by Melissa Widmaier
March 1, 2026
Love is immortal.
In a quiet souters village in Scotland, an earl’s rebellious daughter stirs up trouble with the fabled faeries known as the Daoine Sìth. Can she lift the veil on a darkened past and rescue her knight from the seelie queen’s clutches?
Based on a beloved Child Ballad, this fairytale retelling mixes magic with devotion, leading our heroine and her loved ones on an adventure worth recounting in an enchanted glade or a royal hall.
In a quiet souters village in Scotland, an earl’s rebellious daughter stirs up trouble with the fabled faeries known as the Daoine Sìth. Can she lift the veil on a darkened past and rescue her knight from the seelie queen’s clutches?
Based on a beloved Child Ballad, this fairytale retelling mixes magic with devotion, leading our heroine and her loved ones on an adventure worth recounting in an enchanted glade or a royal hall.
Excerpt
Heartsick, the Lord of the Unseelie slipped from Carterhaugh through the portal oak. He materialized into Elphyne, trembling. There was someone he missed as much as Tam missed his father, and, like Old Thomas, he was never returning—to this realm or the mortal one.
He ambled through the pristine meadows and grasslands of his grandmother’s seelie kingdom and slipped easily into the forest that bordered his own.
Much of the Sìth folk gave him the space his rank was due, especially the ones who had known and feared his grandfather, Finveara. But the unseelie creatures found Alfarinn exhausting. They made a point of glaring with beady eyes and sharp hisses whenever he passed by. He was no Finveara.
It wasn’t until he reached the marshes that Alfarinn noticed something was odd. He stopped abruptly and looked around, hoping the stillness in the damp air was only the result of his sister’s mysterious cats mid-stalk.
His grey Sìth eyes settled on a horse head bobbing in the muddy waters, with a passenger in the form of a slimy snail. This could only be one particular kelpie. The Lord of the Unseelie groaned and approached his nosy subject.
“Your grandfather would have thrown a fireball at me for spying,” Ceol teased.
The silver beast pulled himself up out of the water and shook from snout to tail. It was a miracle that his pet snail did not fly off.
Alfarinn whipped the water from his clothes with a wave of his hand. “You admit to spying?”
“Perhaps a little.”
Ceol’s horse face split into an eerie, sharp-toothed grin as his monstrous body metamorphosized into the figure of a man. The kelpie usually graced the courts in faerie form but there were times that he retreated to the cool marshes to transform into his true nature. It was a face he only showed his kin, his master, and his victims.
“I’m just curious, my lord. Why do you sulk about your holdings? Do you seek mischief? If so, I am eager to be of assistance.”
Alfarinn snickered as the smiling kelpie delicately hid his precious creature in his enchanted pocket. “Are you now? Actually, I could use a little help, Ceol.”
The kelpie pranced about, waving his arms wildly.
Alfarinn raised a hand in warning. “This will require more stealth than anything, Ceol. I will not have you mauling anyone for this task.”
The kelpie deflated and gave a resentful pout. “But I haven’t mauled anyone in ages!” he whined.
Alfarinn did his best to hide his shiver. Kelpies were forbidden from attacking other fae, but the souls of mortals were fair game. Tam fit into both categories, much to the kelpie population’s displeasure.
“What if I told you that this mischief would be wrought on a certain earthly knight? Would you be willing to play my game to be rid of him?”
The kelpie reverted back to his horse form and danced fluidly around his master. “Pretty Tam’s flesh is tantalizing, and his soul would be delicious. If you want to be rid of him, let me have him. I'll not tell a Sìth it was you.”
Alfarinn scowled, channeling his grandfather’s energy. The kelpie recoiled.
“No, Ceol. The queen would fly into a rage the likes of which we've never seen.”
The creature’s eye fixed on the Sìth lord, gleaming maliciously. “Are you afraid of her, Lord of the Unseelie?” It was a declaration more than a question, a search for weakness in the chain of command.
Alfarinn squinted and folded his arms over his chest, pulling himself up to full height. “Afraid! No. I am her grandson,” he reminded with a smug smile. “She loves kin above all else. You, on the other hand, council member or not, would do well to keep in her good graces.”
Ceol swallowed and quickly changed back into his less-intimidating configuration. “Noted.”
He looked about the marsh for a moment, perhaps weighing his choices, and fondled the poor snail in his pocket. After some moments avoiding his exasperated master, the kelpie turned and nodded his acceptance.
“So, what exactly must I do to annoy the tasty mortal boy?”
Heartsick, the Lord of the Unseelie slipped from Carterhaugh through the portal oak. He materialized into Elphyne, trembling. There was someone he missed as much as Tam missed his father, and, like Old Thomas, he was never returning—to this realm or the mortal one.
He ambled through the pristine meadows and grasslands of his grandmother’s seelie kingdom and slipped easily into the forest that bordered his own.
Much of the Sìth folk gave him the space his rank was due, especially the ones who had known and feared his grandfather, Finveara. But the unseelie creatures found Alfarinn exhausting. They made a point of glaring with beady eyes and sharp hisses whenever he passed by. He was no Finveara.
It wasn’t until he reached the marshes that Alfarinn noticed something was odd. He stopped abruptly and looked around, hoping the stillness in the damp air was only the result of his sister’s mysterious cats mid-stalk.
His grey Sìth eyes settled on a horse head bobbing in the muddy waters, with a passenger in the form of a slimy snail. This could only be one particular kelpie. The Lord of the Unseelie groaned and approached his nosy subject.
“Your grandfather would have thrown a fireball at me for spying,” Ceol teased.
The silver beast pulled himself up out of the water and shook from snout to tail. It was a miracle that his pet snail did not fly off.
Alfarinn whipped the water from his clothes with a wave of his hand. “You admit to spying?”
“Perhaps a little.”
Ceol’s horse face split into an eerie, sharp-toothed grin as his monstrous body metamorphosized into the figure of a man. The kelpie usually graced the courts in faerie form but there were times that he retreated to the cool marshes to transform into his true nature. It was a face he only showed his kin, his master, and his victims.
“I’m just curious, my lord. Why do you sulk about your holdings? Do you seek mischief? If so, I am eager to be of assistance.”
Alfarinn snickered as the smiling kelpie delicately hid his precious creature in his enchanted pocket. “Are you now? Actually, I could use a little help, Ceol.”
The kelpie pranced about, waving his arms wildly.
Alfarinn raised a hand in warning. “This will require more stealth than anything, Ceol. I will not have you mauling anyone for this task.”
The kelpie deflated and gave a resentful pout. “But I haven’t mauled anyone in ages!” he whined.
Alfarinn did his best to hide his shiver. Kelpies were forbidden from attacking other fae, but the souls of mortals were fair game. Tam fit into both categories, much to the kelpie population’s displeasure.
“What if I told you that this mischief would be wrought on a certain earthly knight? Would you be willing to play my game to be rid of him?”
The kelpie reverted back to his horse form and danced fluidly around his master. “Pretty Tam’s flesh is tantalizing, and his soul would be delicious. If you want to be rid of him, let me have him. I'll not tell a Sìth it was you.”
Alfarinn scowled, channeling his grandfather’s energy. The kelpie recoiled.
“No, Ceol. The queen would fly into a rage the likes of which we've never seen.”
The creature’s eye fixed on the Sìth lord, gleaming maliciously. “Are you afraid of her, Lord of the Unseelie?” It was a declaration more than a question, a search for weakness in the chain of command.
Alfarinn squinted and folded his arms over his chest, pulling himself up to full height. “Afraid! No. I am her grandson,” he reminded with a smug smile. “She loves kin above all else. You, on the other hand, council member or not, would do well to keep in her good graces.”
Ceol swallowed and quickly changed back into his less-intimidating configuration. “Noted.”
He looked about the marsh for a moment, perhaps weighing his choices, and fondled the poor snail in his pocket. After some moments avoiding his exasperated master, the kelpie turned and nodded his acceptance.
“So, what exactly must I do to annoy the tasty mortal boy?”
About the Author:
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Melissa is an award-winning author on the spectrum who likes to mix a little ink with her magic. Her books focus on the familial bond and exploring the natural world. When not manipulating words, she can be found camping with a camera in hand, getting lost among things green and growing. She lives in Arizona with her husband, three boys, a dapper old cat, and a rambunctious corgi.
Website-FB-Twitter
Instagram-Youtube
BlueSky-Amazon
Goodreads
Melissa is an award-winning author on the spectrum who likes to mix a little ink with her magic. Her books focus on the familial bond and exploring the natural world. When not manipulating words, she can be found camping with a camera in hand, getting lost among things green and growing. She lives in Arizona with her husband, three boys, a dapper old cat, and a rambunctious corgi.
