Can you believe it’s been three years since I published Unseelie Queen (Crown of Tír na nÓg #2)? Today, July 19th 2024, marks the three-year anniversary of Unseelie Queen. And whenever my books hit such a milestone, I like to take a moment to appreciate my own work. While I was skimming my Scrivener file, I stumbled upon a scene that I’d written, but it never made it into the book. Originally, Unseelie Queen would have been the last book in the series, making it a duology. The story would have played out quite differently with Kayla, Fay & Co. traveling to Ireland instead of journeying through Tír na nÓg. But then I decided that I’d already created a faerie realm of my own. Why not explore it more? And the more I brainstormed, the more ideas I’ve got. And eventually my story could no longer be confined to a duology.
Below is this lost scene I wrote years ago, when I still thought I’m writing a duology. I’ve never edited it, so you get to read the first draft. Hope you enjoy!
As the plane began to lower and the captain announced their landing, Kayla pressed her nose against the tiny window to peer at the land beneath. Vast fields stretched on and on, interrupted by softly rolling green hills and tiny dots of minuscule towns. A thin thread of blue weaved its way through the green, all the way to the ocean. Then the view was obscured by thick, dark clouds.
Kayla leaned back in hear seat. Flying was a miraculous thing to many people; within the matter of hours, a plane could transport you from one country to another, entirely different one. But Kayla wasn’t like many people; she was a faerie, and she had come used to a different kind of traveling, not only from one country to another, but from one world to another.
Still, after all she’d seen in Tír Na nÓg, the magical land of the Fair Folk, she felt excited at the prospect of her upcoming visit to Ireland.
“Remind me again,” came a sickly voice two seats next to her, “why we had to take a…a metallic bird…” The voice stopped as the boy who it belonged to reached forward and retrieved a paper bag to throw up into.
“Aren’t you always the one fussing about the Mortal world, Nooa?” Maeve sneered.
“Oh, stop it! Can’t you see he’s obviously sick?” Fay padded her friend’s shoulder comfortingly. “And it’s called an airplane,” she added.
Kayla giggled involuntarily as Nooa reemerged from his paper bag; his face, which had usually a dark complexion due to his pooka blood, had turned even whiter as that of any other faerie. The plane made a sudden jerk, and Nooa was sick again.
“I’m with the tall one,” someone from the front row said, and Kayla started; she’d almost forgotten her best friend Abby sitting there.
“Huh?”
“I said, I agree with him. Why couldn’t we take one of your magic tunnels?”
Maeve sighed drastically and rolled her eyes at Abby; Fay shot her a glare, then explained calmly, “The Faery Path is being watched by the Seelie Court and, for all we know, the Unseelie Court might have an eye on it, too. It would’ve been too dangerous.”
“So we’re not only running from that crazy evil queen,” Abby shuddered, and Kayla knew she must’ve remember the time when Titania, queen of the Unseelie faeries, had held her hostage, “but also from your own people?”
“We’re not running from them.” Fay paused, looking at Maeve and Nooa, who was starting to look normal again. “But we mustn’t let them find out about our plan. Queen Ophira would be furious.”
“I thought she was your mother?” asked Abby.
Kayla watched Fay closely as they all waited for a response. But Kayla knew Fay wouldn’t answer. She was all too familiar with the way Fay’s emerald eyes grew dark and distant, as though a curtain had closed over them, and just like that Fay had shut everyone out.
She glanced passed Kayla out of the window. “We’re almost there.”
The seatbelt lights turned on, instructions seeped through the loudspeakers, and then the plane lowered and lowered. The closer they came to the ground, the faster Kayla’s heart beat, and as they landed, her nervous stomach performed a somersault.
Once the plane had come to a full stop, people leapt up, retrieved their bags from the overhead storage, and filed out of the plane. Kayla, clutching her poorly looking backpack, was pulled along by the crowd, out of the plane and along long, winding corridors.
As they approached the passport checkpoint, Kayla let Fay pass, so she could perform the same trick she had at the airport in Chicago. She watched, still amazed, as Fay stepped up to the officer and held out five passports – at least that was what other people saw. But Kayla saw through the Glamor, the faeries’ magic, and in her eyes Fay was clutching five big leaves she’d plucked from a random tree back in Chicago.
The officer, a stout woman with the shadow of a mustache above her upper lip, eyed Fay and the others suspiciously. For a split second, Kayla feared she could see through the Glamor, and that Fay, Nooa and Maeve’s illusion to look like ordinary teenagers had failed. But then she nodded and let them pass.
“You need to teach me soon,” said Kayla once they were through. “My Glamor is almost gone.”
“Dahlia said not to. Not until your Birth Glamor has worn of entirely,” Fay reminded her. Kayla knew that Dahlia the Faerie Cat had meant well when she’d said that, but she still felt exposed to the eyes of Mortals. A young girl with piggy tails goggled at her, as they shuffled through control.
Kayla was relieved that they had only carry-on luggage, and half an hour later they had made their way out of the airport, where they stepped into blinding midday sunlight. The first thing Kayla noticed once her eyes had adjusted were the cars driving on the left lane. Kayla had heard about it in school, yet seeing it was something entirely different; it looked odd and slightly wrong.
“Where to?” Maeve asked with her usual air of annoyance.
They hailed a cab and Kayla told the driver the address she’d been given by Dahlia.
“Firs’ time te Dublin?” the driver asked in a rough Irish accent. He was a plump man in his mid-forties, with red hair and red stubble on his jaw.
Kayla, who’d wound up taking the seat in the front, felt obliged to respond. “Yes.”
“Where’re ye lads from?”
They had left the airport areal and the driver was merging the car into the traffic. Kayla flinched involuntarily, not being used to cars driving on the wrong side. “Uh…the States. Chicago,” she said.
“Nice. Been ter meself once.” He checked left before changing the lane and for a second his gaze caught Kayla’s. “Go way outta that!” he cried, causing Abby to squeal on the backseat and Maeve scowling at her. “Ye one of the Folk!”
Fay’s head appeared between the seats. Her eyes scanning the driver she asked, “You have the Alder Eye?”
His gaze detached from the road to take a closer look at Fay. “Aye. Been in me family fer generations.” He returned his attention to the traffic, weaving the car expertly through the chaos of vehicles. “Ye better not fool with me, mind. I’m keen on protection,” he added.
Puzzled by that remark, Kayla raked the car’s interior with her eyes and sure enough she found a sharpened piece of wood, undoubtedly rowan, wedged between the driver and the door. From the rear-view mirror tangled a wreath of knotted four-leaved cloves she hadn’t noticed before.
“We mean no harm,” Fay assured him.
“’Course ye don’t.” He gave a horse laugh. “But ye nature is as benign as it is malevolent. Ye can’t help, can’t ye?”
Maeve in the backseat snorted derisively.
“Ye laugh! But me cousin once refused one of ye lot’s invitation. Fella got so offended, he turned ‘im inter a stone. Took us ages to find ‘im.”
At his words Kayla’s stomach churned with unease. No one spoke for a long time, as the driver darted from one lane to the other. As they drew nearer to the city, the lanes on the highway got more crowded. But soon the city came into view and moments later they were off the highway, driving along narrower streets.
Kayla had only once been outside of Illinois and that hadn’t been far from the border. When her father had still been alive, he’d taken her on a weekend-trip to Milwaukee. But that city was nothing compared to what she saw now: old and new buildings side by side; small winding alleys and wide streets; and green hills, almost like the ones in Tir-na-nog, rising behind the city limits.
The driver pulled the car up to the curb outside a high building with many polished windows. As Fay reached into the pouch on her belt, he said, “Nah, don’t bother. I know ye lot don’t use real money.”
Fay shrugged. “Good enough,” she said and gestured the others to get out. But Kayla hesitated and only after slipping the driver a five-dollar-bill did she follow the others. He winked at her through the windows, seemingly pleased by having received at least some money.
“Is that it?” Fay asked, eying the skyscraper suspiciously.
Kayla checked the address again, then nodded. “Must be his workplace.” She looked at her friends questioningly. Abby and Nooa were both a bit pale, while Fay’s expressions was as usual indecipherable; Maeve looked determined, one hand flexed on the hilt of her sword she’d insisted on taking with her.
“Should we…uh…go with her?” Nooa asked.
Fay raised an eyebrow at her friend. “Yes! But we might not all want to be seen.” Maeve and Nooa moved their hands up to their throats simultaneously, touching their necklaces, and a soft golden shimmer enveloped them. They appearance didn’t change in Kayla’s eyes, but –
“Woah! Where did they go?” cried Abby.
“Shh!” Kayla walked over to her friend to whisper in her ear. “They can make themselves invisible. They’re still here.” As Abby stared at a blank spot, Kayla could see Nooa grinning foolishly and Maeve rolling her eyes.
With a still vexed Abby by her side, Kayla led the way into the building. The ground floor opened onto a wide, clinically white space dotted with a few plants and dark leather chairs. They approached the elevators at the far end and took one up to the fifth floor, just as Dahlia had advised. Up there they found an open area with dozens of cubicles in which people stared intently on computer screens.
“Good afternoon.” They were greeted by a middle-aged, ash-blond woman with a mousy face. She scanned them from head to toe through her round spectacles, her thin lips pinched into a grim line. “What is it that I can help you with?”
Kayla took a step forward. “We are looking for Mr Alexavier Duval.”
“And on what matter exactly to you want to speak with him?”
“Um.” Kayla hesitated, her eyes flickering down to the woman’s name tag on the table. It read Edith McNeill, secretary, Bank of Ireland. “We wish to open an account with your bank,” she lied quickly, feeling an instant burn in her throat. Lying was a human ability she was slowly starting to lose.
“I’m afraid that has to be done in one of our branch banks.”
Kayla looked to her friends for help. Abby shrugged, but Fay seemed to be pretty preoccupied with staring at Edith’s desk. Her eyes fixed on something and widened.
“Dahlia sent us,” she said.
Sarah Tanzmann 
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