Page 6

Killian

I slowly began to do as Bracca asked, watching him out of the corner of my eye as he fidgeted impatiently while I dressed. He wasn’t good at having to wait for anything. I decided to be brave and not be embarrassed to be naked in front of him. I dropped the fur and let him look if he wanted to. I found I liked the idea of him watching me.

I pulled one of the furs we’d slept under across my shoulders after I had my clothes back on. I looked up to see his gaze on me, but he had a neutral expression, even though his eyes were dark and stormy. Following him out of the little structure that his men were already in the process of tearing down, I watched them packing up the furs, and I thought they must be using magic, because they were so quick with it. Already a huge fire had been built out closer to the trail and two small cauldrons were bubbling over it.

If not for their magic, I thought they couldn’t have survived in this hostile environment. This was a place so far to the north that it seemed to me that eternal night reigned, and the stars converged on icy, frozen terrain. It was early morning, but still so dark, that if not for the fire, I wouldn’t have been able to see where to walk. In contrast, Solaria had been a sun-bathed place, sparkled in silver, dusted in gold and warmed by the fairest beams of sunlight. Was it any wonder the two tribes were so different, even if they were both of Tuatha De Danann ancestry? It took real strength and even courage to live in a place like this.

Either that or you had to be crazy. Take your pick, because either or both of those things seemed to apply. I knew that one reason the Dark Fairies were called dark was because they allowed tribes of the dark Fae to live among them. Creatures like vampires, goblins, trolls, brownies and even demons all were frequent visitors to places where the Dark Fairies lived. Those were the rumors anyway. Would I see these creatures and be around them? Should I be afraid?

As I came up behind the prince, someone filled a cup from a ladle with something hot and thrust it in my hand. Another of them gave me a bowl full of some kind of steaming mush. I asked Bracca what it was, and he gave me a grim look as he replied.

“It’s wild relish, sweetened with manna dew.”

“You’re joking, aren’t you? Isn’t that from the Bible?

“It was the stuff that fell from heaven and kept the Israelites alive during their journey out of Egypt. It was supposed to be sweet, as I recall. And I think mortal poets use the phrase from time to time.”

“I think you’re teasing me.”

He smiled down at me. “Perhaps. But isn’t that what your mortal legends tell you about Fairies? That we feed mortals strange, magical foods that will keep them in our realm so they can’t go home again?”

“Even worse than that It’s said that mortals should never eat anything a Fairy gives them because when they finally wake up, they see it was nothing but refuse and horse dung.”

“You’d get awfully hungry if you were reluctant to eat our food. And besides, you can’t leave anyway—I won’t let you. You may as well eat your fill. We won’t stop again for hours.”

“Of course, I’ll eat. I’ve had to eat during my time in Solaria, after all. By the way, I don’t suppose you have any goblin fruit, do you? That’s a particular favorite of mine.”

“Goblin fruit? When have you eaten that?”

“In Solaria. It’s delicious.”

“The Goblins are nasty little creatures, but their fruit is good. I’ve shopped in the Goblin Market before. Perhaps I’ll take you someday.” He turned away then as if he were tired of making conversation.

I still wanted to talk to him about why the Dark Fairies had wanted to bring me here, or wanted me at all for that matter. I wasn’t sure he was telling the truth about the tournament games, especially enough to offer my father gold to buy me. And why me anyway? I was only a lowly squire and not a knight. I understood that Lord Ellien had wanted to trade for me, but was it me in particular or would any mortal have worked? Had Prince Bracca actually asked for me by name? It seemed impossible. I’d never met the handsome prince before in my life. Why would I even be of value to a Fairy prince?

I was a lowly squire, the son of a knight of middling fame, with no claim to any of my own. Did Prince Bracca hold some grudge I hadn’t previously known about against my father? My family? And was I supposed to be the instrument of his revenge? In that case, he should have chosen another brother, like my eldest, the heir. I was obviously of very little value to my father. Or did he have something against me personally?

With that depressing thought, I drank from the cup they’d given me. It was some kind of warm mulled wine, bitter and really strong. Much too strong for my taste, but it did serve to warm me through and through. And it was only porridge in the bowls, after all, sweetened from a jar of honey one of them had retrieved from his packs, instead of the mysterious relish and manna dew Prince Bracca had teased me about. At least I thought so. I was starving and ate every bite. Anyway, I’d probably never see my home again no matter what I did or didn’t do. So I might as well try to make the best of things.

While we sat there, and to get my mind off those depressing thoughts, I asked the prince about the stag I would be riding.

“Dandelion? He’s older and calmer than most of the others. These younger ones have a wildness that make them difficult to manage.”

“That’s a silly name,” I offered, and he shrugged.

“Who gave you your name? It’s not English.”

“No, it’s not. My mother gave it to me, I suppose.”

He took another sip of wine. “Tell me about your mother. Your real mother.”

“Why?”

“Because I asked you to,” he said, sounding irritable. “Why do you question every word out of my mouth?”

“Sorry. But I-I don’t know anything much about my mother. My father never mentioned her and my nurse wouldn’t talk about her.”

“Why not?”

“I have no idea. All I know is that her name was odd. It was pronounced like Ashlynn, but spelled differently, I think.”

“It’s a Fae name.”

“A Fae name? Why would she have one of those? Perhaps her parents were fanciful.”

“Or perhaps she was Fae. Your family’s land touches the Liminal. It’s possible.”

His eyes grew wide. “I never heard that about her. No, I’m sure you’re wrong.”

“Why?”

“Why? Because you just are. Fae aren’t human, for God’s sake, and I am. That’s crazy!”

He only shook his head but the men sitting close to us who overheard us arguing looked shocked.

“What?” I said to the man sitting on the other side of me. “Why are you looking like that? What did I say?”

“You speak too familiarly to the royal prince. Prince Bracca is never wrong. It’s unseemly to say so. Even if you are his a chumann.”

“I’m his what?”

“Never mind,” Prince Bracca said and leaned across me to say something to the soldier in that odd language they spoke which was a little like Gaelic, I thought, but not exactly. Anyway, the soldier looked surprised and then gave me a long, up and down look before he nodded.

The prince stood up then and motioned to me to follow him.

“What was that? The word he used about me. What does it mean?”

“It means something like sweetheart.”

I was shocked and I must have looked it because he laughed out loud. “He said it, not me.”

I wasn’t sure that made it any better. He took me over to the stags, which someone had already saddled. Reaching for me, he tossed me up on the back of the second one in line.

“This is Dandelion. Don’t kick him like most mortals do with horses. Just tell him where you want him to go, and he will.”

Maybe that was true for these Dark Fairies, but they forgot to tell the stag. Dandelion didn’t like me being on his back, and it made him restless. He was reluctant to move and tossed his huge head, making the bells on his rack jingle. He snorted and pawed the snow, letting me know he didn’t approve of me being anywhere near him.

It got so bad that at one point that Bracca came over to check on us before we left. “What are you doing to Dandelion?” he asked.

“I’m not doing anything to him!” I said, feeling indignant. “He’s being difficult for no good reason.”

He gave me a look and shook his head again, before going up to speak softly in the beast’s ear. Dandelion settled down but rolled a blue eye back at me warningly before he turned to follow Bracca’s stag down the trail. Feeling a little guilty—I had actually kicked him several times in his sides to get him moving despite what Bracca had told me—I leaned over and spoke to the beast.

“I’m sorry I kicked you, and I promise never to do it again. It’s the way I was taught to ride, but I can see that it’s rude and mean and might hurt you. I beg your pardon.”

Dandelion snorted and shook his head. I chose to take that as a good sign. Of course, he could have been telling me to go to hell because he didn’t accept my apology.

We rode all that long day, and I was practically falling asleep in the saddle by the time we arrived. Hours had passed since breakfast. When we got down from the stags, someone made a big fire that was instantly hot and blazing from a snap of their fingers. Their mastery of fire was their best trick, in my opinion. They hauled out the pots again and began heating the mulled wine. Another one handed out meat pasties, which were little handheld meat pies. I was starving by then and quickly ate three of them. As I looked around for one to offer Dandelion, Bracca came up beside me.

“What are you doing?”

“Looking for another of these pasties. I thought Dandelion might like one.”

“Stags don’t eat meat.”

“I know. But there’s no grass with all the snow. He might be hungry.”

“Then he’ll eat the leaves and bark off the trees. Don’t worry about him. We won’t be stopping long. We’re close enough to hear the roar of the sea, and all of us are anxious to get home.”

“The sea?” I cocked my head to listen but didn’t hear a thing but the wind. “Wait. Surely, we’re not going out on a boat? In the dark? In this weather?”

“No boats,” he replied, and I silently thanked God. But I was still shocked at just the idea of sailing in the Great Western Ocean. Or whatever this sea was—it could be any sea for all I knew. But I thought if we were still near England, it must be that one, though I’d never actually seen it. I had heard that the ocean to the west of England—especially the one in the northwest—was really wild with huge waves that could easily swamp a boat. I was no sailor, so I didn’t like the idea of it. Though for some reason, now that he’d mentioned it, I could hear the distant roar of the waves too. It gave me an odd feeling in the pit of my stomach. Not dread exactly, though definitely not a pleasant feeling either. I thought I could smell the tang of it on the wind, but that had to be pure fantasy and my mind playing tricks on me.

“Our castle is on the edge of the water. On a cliff overlooking the sea.”

We got back on our mounts and continued on, even faster than we had traveled before. Perhaps the stags sensed they were close to their warm stalls and proper food. We rode for an hour or so more before the castle appeared on a far hill in the distance. It seemed to loom even from that distance, but maybe it was because I’d been thinking of the dark king and his fearsome reputation. I wondered if the stories about his demonic blood were true.

The castle perched on a craggy cliff, and I could see a long trail—it was much too narrow to be called a road—leading up to it. Its turrets and battlements had a thick layer of salt spray and ice, making it look like it was frosted with sugar from a distance. I could clearly hear the pounding of the waves. The stone shone through in places though, and in those patches, it was a dark, wet, gloomy gray. Above every turret was the king’s emblem, a red circle on a field of black. The flags billowed in the wind, ominous against the bruised-looking clouds threatening overhead.

Distances were deceiving, however, because the sun had set before we reached the trail. Since it was narrow and treacherous looking, the prince and his men stopped to get off their stags and go into the woods to fetch stout branches to act as torches as they traveled up to the castle. The deer were sure-footed, but the ice on the road was slippery. The prince rode back to take the reins right out of my hands.

“You’ll ride with me and let your stag follow us on his own,” he said.

“I’m perfectly capable of riding this stag up that trail.”

“No,” he said and made a little hurry-up motion for me to dismount. One look at his face told me not to argue, so I got off and stomped over to his mount to wait for him. He leaped on the back of the stag and reached down to haul me up effortlessly and set me in front of him. It jogged a memory that I thought I had buried—and suddenly it roared back with a vengeance.

It was the memory of a handsome stranger on a horse near the Maling bridge in Kent. He and his companion had been stopped by my friends, my brothers and I, and they had been made to pay a toll. The younger man had taken exception to it, and he was so angry that I had been afraid blood would be shed. We were trying a pas d’armes, like we’d seen in the Tournaments, but I thought now it had been ill-advised. It really must have seemed very much like highway robbery, especially to a person who was not a knight, and that was what the younger man had accused us of.

He had pulled me up on his horse just like this, and he’d kissed me until I was almost swooning. He did other things too that were shocking and that I couldn’t think about for a while afterward. I’d never felt that way about a man before, and I still didn’t know what to think about those feelings. If that stranger had really been a man—I thought now that it was Prince Bracca all along, glamoured to look human. I should have known that no mortal could have had that kind of strength. It had been humiliating and awful—yet so exciting and wonderful that I’d dreamed about it for weeks afterward. It had left me craving more, and I thought about that kiss and the other things he’d done for a really long time afterward. I still thought about them even now. It was the answer to how I’d offended him at least. Fairies never forgot, nor did they forgive.

The idea made me blush, and I sat really still on the stag in front of the prince and tried to think of anything else other than the feel of Bracca’s muscular thighs beneath me. And that hard ridge I could feel through his trousers. I knew what that was. He pulled me back against him and thrust the torch into my hand. Light the way for us, a chuisle . It’s starting to snow.”