Page 25 of The Crimson Throne (Spy and Guardian #1)

Ringing fills my ears, a wave of nausea tugging at my gut. I blink rapidly, the human parts of my body readjusting to the fae.

Where there had been boulders, now castle walls rise from the mist, the stone carved in harmony with nature.

There are no straight lines, the windows blossoming in the natural dips of the stone and the towers twisting like trees.

Moss shining with dew casts a glittering emerald glow.

Lights flick by—sprites, the wee sticklars.

Everything here is like the landscape of Scotland but slightly… off. As if one painter sketched out the landscape, and then another faintly painted over it, adding new elements and changing subtle details.

It’s the glamours, stronger here than in the human realm. Strong enough to be real. While I can weave nothing but misty shadows and tricks, this is the home of magic, potent and strong.

I am the strongest Leth in Scotland.

And I am nothing here.

The magic that can truly shift reality remains out of my reach, inaccessible to me.

“Lady Alyth.”

I turn, trying not to show how much the sound of my name being spoken startled me. A brownie steps out of a hollow spot in a log. A shimmer in the dark hole tells me that this brownie has used a portal to reach me quickly.

Because heaven forbid my father greet me.

I incline my head to the brownie, one of my father’s personal attendants.

As with all fae, I don’t know his name, but I call him Kirk because he’s generally as silent as a church.

Also because the word for a chicken is “cearc,” which reminds me of the chicken feathers he sticks in his hair, thinking they make him look distinguished.

“Hello,” I say respectfully.

“What are you doing here?” Kirk gets right to the point.

“I found another Red Cap item.” I hold out the amulet I took from Samson.

Kirk clucks his tongue like a worried hen, taking the silver Celtic knotwork. He inspects it carefully, muttering to himself.

“I am concerned that this may be the work of the High Blade,” I say. “I’ve connected this item to Lady Lennox and, from her, to a member of the English queen’s court.”

Kirk holds a finger up, demanding silence.

I close my mouth but cannot help heaving a sigh. Nothing I say ever matters.

Kirk does something with his hands, swirling them around the amulet. With an audible pop! that resonates throughout the area, the amulet disappears.

“I will report this to your father,” he says, bowing and turning.

Dismissing me.

“Wait!” I call, actually reaching out to him.

Kirk is low in societal rank, but he’s a full-blooded fae.

I may be a prince’s daughter, but I’m also half human.

When I grab Kirk’s elbow to make him pause, he looks down at my hand with distaste that makes it clear he thinks, despite our different ranks, I have no right to touch him.

I let go immediately.

“Can’t you take me to see my father? Let me explain to him what this threat is, how dangerous it is…”

Kirk shakes his head. “The prince is indisposed.”

Right. Of course he is. The palace walls rising over where the boulders are in my realm have sparkling crystal windows lit up with various different lights. There’s an excellent chance my father is inside, dancing and drinking. Oblivious to me.

But those palace walls are charmed. Humans who slip into the fae realm are doomed to wander aimlessly unless they have a connection like me, but even I cannot go into the proper court without a fae guide.

If I were to try to enter the palace, it would always remain out of my reach, even if I ran at it full tilt.

If I were to try to force my way inside, I would find myself befuddled and confused, turned about.

Even if the path to the palace were a straight line, paved and clear, with signs pointing to the right direction, the only way I would be able to take one step closer would be if I were invited and led inside the palace by a full-blooded fae.

I know.

I’ve tried.

Until I learned nothing would make my father leave his parties. Nothing I could do anyway.

That’s how the Seelie Court works. Layers of deception and traps, ensuring nothing disturbs the revelry. Turning you into a source of amusement for trying.

Kirk could take me straight to my father. And I could tell him to his face that the Red Caps draw closer, that the High Blade may be involved.

But he won’t.

I wish I knew whether it was that the Seelie Court doesn’t take the threat seriously or that they don’t take me seriously.

“I will report directly to your father,” Kirk says, a little kinder now, which makes it all the worse, the pity in his voice.

I nod, and the brownie steps back into the hole in the tree, disappearing.

I cast one last look around the fae realm. It is so, so beautiful. Achingly so.

Layers of deception , I remind myself, blinking rapidly.

Nothing here is real.

I fall backward, out of this world and into my own.

***

I stumble, regaining my footing as my eyes adjust to dim, dull reality.

Red sandstone lines the riverbed, making the creek look as if it’s tainted with blood. From here, the boulders serve as towering walls. Sound echoes strangely, bouncing off the enormous rocks. Sunlight cuts like ribbons in the rare spots between rocks and bald trees.

Winter is a time when everything dies, but nothing here feels as empty as death.

I take a deep breath, filling my lungs with air until it hurts, the scent of petrichor seeping into my body.

It would be so easy to quit. Let some other Leth care about the wall. About the Red Cap plot that threatens the entire nation.

I’ve heard of it happening before, with other Leths. Once they go to their fae kin fully, swearing to never return to the humans, they can be accepted into that world.

My father ignores me because he wants to ignore the wall, the responsibility that comes with it. If I let that go, if I walked away from the duty I was born to fulfill…I could step fully into the Seelie Court, take a place beside my father, who gave me his blood, his magic, but not his status.

Not his home.

That’s what holds me back.

Some might call it pride, I suppose. But I won’t leave Scotland for the Seelie Court as long as he treats me like a guard instead of a daughter. I’ll stay here in my real home, where I’m valued. At least by some.

I peel off my boots, then my woolen tights, and I hike my skirts up as I step into water that glitters red thanks to the color of the pebbles.

I send my magic out, out, calling. Water knows; water carries.

This narrow band snaking through the gorge connects to the lochs and the rivers and then to the sea.

My magic pings off the barrier that encloses the entire land, confirming its strength, but it also sends out a warning to all the fae:

Be on guard.

The enemy approaches.

Hooves echo off stones, soft patterings. No horse could get down here, but a goat has no such limits.

The creatures standing on the stones, peering down at me, however, are not goats.

Glaistigs are ethereal beings, often letting their bodies fade to ghostly shadows.

Their lower halves take a form similar to goats, green moss staining gray-and-white fur.

Glaistigs, when they bother to appear, look like women from the waist up.

Long stringy hair, rough and matted, streams over their shoulders.

Horns curl up from their temples, wide and thick, the tips sharp.

I see a half dozen now, but I’m certain there are more hidden in the shadows, some not taking form, some in the trees, ready to attack if need be. The wildest fae trust not even a drop of human blood.

I scan the ones here, nodding to each respectfully, and then bow to the one whose mossy cloak extends into a cape draping over the tallest boulder, ferns like lace and tiny red berries along the hem like jewels.

This one is the leader of the glaistigs. “Green Lady,” I say, my eyes still downcast.

“You are welcome here,” she says, and I dare to lift my eyes.

I needed to send Samson’s amulet to the fae realm, but I chose this spot on purpose, hoping the glaistigs would answer my warning call.

“I come with an invitation,” I say carefully, “as representative of the queen of humans of this land.” Mary did not extend the invitation herself, but she doesn’t need to know what I’m doing.

“Humans do not typically invite us to anything outside war.” Her voice is soft but clear, like the icy water still wrapping around my ankles.

“War may be coming,” I say. “The human queen celebrates the birth of her child, but her husband works with the Red Caps.”

“Traitor.” The word hisses from all the glaistigs, so low that their stomping hooves almost drown out the sound.

“The wall holds,” I clarify, “but he has eyes on human thrones and enough fae blood to align with the Red Caps. He’s used a weapon of theirs before, and more have infiltrated.”

“We are ready.” The Green Lady’s shoulders roll back, her chin tilting up, a sunbeam sliced in two by her horn.

I have no doubt the glaistigs are ready. Their spears and their magic are always ready. It doesn’t matter to them that the Red Caps have been absent from Scotland for a millennia; that is just a wink to the fae.

Another dark reminder that it is possible for the High Blade to be behind all this…

“The human queen has hired men to dress in costume for the celebration in honor of her son,” I say.

The Green Lady’s eyes narrow, her slitted pupils like daggers.

I speak rapidly. “They do not mean to make a mockery of your kind.” Mary has hired some to dress as satyrs. She knows the Greek myths better than her own, but that is, perhaps, because the glaistigs prefer to be forgotten.

“It will suit,” the Green Lady allows. “We can weave into the shadows and among the humans without being noticed.”

“That is my hope,” I say. The glaistigs will add a layer of protection.

The Green Lady looks to the other glaistigs. Each nods to her slowly, confirming they will help.

“Any traitor we see, we kill,” the Green Lady says, turning to me. “Your kind likes…” She waves her hand, looking for the word. “Trials. Second chances. We do not abide by such customs.”

I look her in her eyes. “I know.”