The Tree Shepherd's Daughter

To my sweetie,
who's lived for years with obnoxious cats, large dogs, and
overflowing piles of books in our North Georgia cabin.

Many thanks go to Maureen and Nancy for their enthusiasm and wisdom, and to the Renaissance Faire Research
Team - Shannon, Christina, Graham and Jack, who endured
turkey legs, jousting, sunburn and wench kisses galore, to
Summer for the vet help, and to my fab editors Andrew
Karre and Rhiannon Ross, who read, reread and made great
and valued suggestions, and to my awesome agent Richard
Curtis (you're the best!), and all the supportive and creative
folks who dwell at the teenlitauthors Yahoo group.

GILLIAN SUMMERS

Woodbury, Minnesota

The Tree Shepherd's Daughter: The Faire Folk Trilogy © 2007 by Berta Platas and Michelle Roper. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever, including Internet usage, without written permission from Flux except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

First Edition First Printing, 2007 Book design by Steffani Sawyer Cover design by Kevin R. Brown Cover illustration by Derek Lea Editing by Rhiannon Ross Flux, an imprint of Llewellyn Publications

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Summers, Gillian. The Tree Shepherd's Daughter / Gillian Summers.-1st ed. p. cm.-(Faire Folk Trilogy ; 1) ISBN: 978-0-7387-1081-5 [ 1. Magic-Fiction. 2. Fairs-Fiction. 3. Fathers and daughters-Fiction. 4. Elves-Fiction. 5. Moving, Household-Fiction. 6. Death Fiction.] I. Title. PZ7.S953987Tre 2007 [Fic]-dc22 2007015339

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. Cover models used for illustrative purposes only and may not endorse or represent the book's subject. Flux A Division of Llewellyn Worldwide, Ltd. 2143 Wooddale Drive, Dept. 978-0-7387-1081-5 Woodbury, MN 55125-2989, U.S.A. www.fluxnow.com Printed in the United States of America

Trees. Keelie Heartwood didn't think her life could be more
depressing than it already was, but the sight of the green
forest before her made her feel gray inside. She could already feel the tingling of her allergic reaction. Wood of any
kind made her feel sick, but living trees were the worst.

She stepped forward, slipping a little, and a ghastly
smell greeted her. She looked down. She'd stepped inside a
circle of rotten and decaying mushrooms. "Gross!"

Thunder boomed in the dark clouds that hung from
the overcast sky, promising more rain. More bad news for
her white Skechers. Lately all her news had been bad.

The black mud on the wide, winding, tree-lined path
sucked at the shoes, staining them as she struggled to
keep up with Ms. Talbot's fast pace. The woman was her
mother's attorney, and Keelie hated her almost as much
as she already hated Colorado. Behind her, the taxi that
had dropped them off spun its wheels on loose gravel,
then skidded onto the paved road and sped away. Keelie
didn't look back in case her longing to return to California
showed on her face. She'd sworn to herself she wouldn't cry,
but the tears pushed at her throat, trying to rise. Maybe it
was the trees. There were too many trees, and her tingling
was turning into full-blown jitters.

Heart thumping, she hitched her heavy leather messenger bag higher on her shoulder, not wanting to risk ruining her few remaining clothes. The airline had misplaced
her luggage, another black mark against her miserable day,
her miserable life.

The enticing scent of roasting meat wafted by, cutting
through the wet, earthy smell that covered everything like a
moldy blanket. Her stomach growled. The only thing she'd
eaten all day was the tiny bag of peanuts and miniature
pretzels tossed at her by the flight attendant on the plane
from L.A. Too bad she'd been too depressed to accept Ms.
Talbot's offer to buy her an Au Bon Pain sandwich at LAX.

At least it wasn't raining any more, though it looked
and sounded as if it could start again any second. Dark
clouds like spongy cannonballs hung low over the evergreens. Ahead, the trees thinned, revealing two tall, ancient-looking yellow stone towers on either side of oversized wooden gates with black iron hinges. The doorway was flanked by giant topiary lions. One stood on its leafy
haunches, its paw on a huge wooden shield that read,
"Welcome to the High Mountain Renaissance Festival."
The other crouched as if ready to spring.

Framed by the tall trees of the forest, it looked like a
leftover set from The Lord of the Rings.

Fake, she thought. Everything here was fake, except for
the trees. Her fingertips tingled from all the living wood
around her. She'd never been in such a big forest. Any
minute now she'd break out in hives.

People milled around a ticket kiosk, some regrouping,
ready to leave, others digging through wallets and purses
for the admission fee. Beside the kiosk, a big painted map
of the fairground showed the place was enormous, with
lots of streets, even a lake. And a depressing amount of
forest. Forget lunch. She was feeling nauseous.

Ahead, Ms. Talbot bypassed the ticket booth and disappeared through the gates, intent on her objective. Keelie
was abandoned to make her way on her own. So what else
was new? Her mom had been a busy woman, too. Keelie
was used to fending for herself. She was going to be sixteen, not six.

Two big security guards in movie armor ran after Ms.
Talbot. "Hey miss, stop. You have to buy a ticket."

Keelie smiled, pleased that the lawyer was caught.
Served her right.

Keelie flashed a fake smile at the ticket taker, smoothing her hair behind her ears. She'd wait right here for the
taxi that would take them to the airport as soon as La Talbot got booted out on her can.

The ticket taker's eyes widened and he bowed low.
"You are most welcome, milady. Your father awaits within.
Welcome to the High Mountain Renaissance Faire." He
handed her a small map and brochure.

Keelie stared at the papers in her hand. Was the man
psychic?

"Keelie, get a move on." Talbot was waving her in. The
two guards were walking back to the ticket booth, one of
them counting money.

Keelie groaned, her elation short-lived. She approached
the lions. No one stopped her. A movement at the corner of her eye made her turn. Had the lion shrugged? She
could have sworn she saw a green ripple run through its
body. Impossible. Must have been a gust of wind.

A flicker to her right. The tasseled tail of the crouching
lion had twitched, as if it was ready to jump off its stone
planter and leap into the woods. The costumed man at the
doorway glanced at her and waved her through. He hadn't
noticed the movement, and either she was expected or this
place was totally lax about letting people in.

She shivered as she passed under the banner and through
the tall gate. It was like a noisy fortress. A raucous prison.
Primal drumbeats kept time for clashing trumpets, fiddles,
and bagpipes in a dizzying mix that these poor idiots seemed
to enjoy.

Despite the friendly greeting on the lion's shield, there
would be no welcome for her. She certainly didn't want to
be here.

She glanced at her watch. Two hours into her new life
and already her shoes were ruined, her luggage was lost, her back hurt, and she'd probably wrecked her manicure.
Not to mention the skin-crawling, nauseous feeling she
got from the woods. And she was seeing things.

She wanted-no, needed-a hot bath and a massage. Back in the day, Mom would call TJ at the Beautiful
Dreamer day spa and make an appointment for side-by-side
hot stone massages. Keelie wished she could take the next
plane back to California and civilization. Back to Mom.

Mom, who would say, "Okay, babe. Let's talk it over,"
whenever she'd seen or felt something strange, something
inexplicable. The older she got, the more of those talks
they'd had. Mom always made her feel normal again.

Except there was no Mom anymore. She inhaled, finding it hard to breathe. The pines pressed in all around, and
she felt as if they were murmuring to her. Claustrophobia
wasn't far behind, but where could she run where there
weren't any trees?

"Hurry along, Keelie," Ms. Talbot's voice came from
somewhere ahead. "I've got to get back on the road in
thirty minutes, or I'll miss my return flight."

Ms. Talbot, who also worked at Mom's law firm, had
apparently drawn the short straw, and it was obvious she
wasn't thrilled about it. Keelie imagined how the meeting
had gone. "Take the kid to Colorado?" Talbot would have
said. "Can't we just drop her off at the airport?"

But no, that would have been too easy, and she was already labeled a flight risk, after the incident the first weekend. A potential runaway who had to be escorted like a
baby. It was infuriating, even if it was true.