She ground her teeth, sipping slowly at her tea as the dinner plates were taken away and dessert was brought out by the servants. It did smell delicious — some kind of bread and butter pudding, served on huge platters, smelling sweetly of a range of spices she couldn’t recognize… cloves, perhaps? Nutmeg? She was too distracted by her worries about what she was doing here to properly engage with that question. Maeve seemed to notice that she was frowning to herself as she toyed with the plate of pudding in front of her.
“Are you alright, Anna?”
“Yeah,” she said, not looking up. “Just thinking.”
“Would it help to think out loud?” Maeve suggested gently, delicately dissecting her own bowl of pudding to extract currants from its depths. “I’ve always found talking to someone is better than getting lost in my own thoughts.”
“I’m just worried about what I’m doing here,” she said, not wanting to burden Maeve too much with the intricacies of her rather turbulent relationship with Donal. After all, Maeve was very close to Donal — she seemed to see him like a son, as much as she did her own son Malcolm. They’d grown up together, after all.
“It will become clear, dear,” Maeve said, her silver eyes full of warmth. “Don’t worry yourself too much. Have faith in the choices of the Fae — their motives are often mysterious, but they’ve never steered us wrong.”
“Have they ever brought someone like me through?” she asked, eyebrow raised.
“No,” Maeve admitted. “You’re something new. But I still trust them.”
Anna was about to say that she didn’t know whether that was wise — but a huge yawn interrupted her as she opened her mouth. The sleepiness that she’d been holding at bay was beginning to rush in as she nibbled at the delicious, warm pudding in her bowl.
Maeve laughed gently. “My dear, you’re exhausted.”
“It’s not that late,” Anna protested, stretching her jaw — an old trick that pulled more blood to the head, making you feel more awake. “I shouldn’t be tired.”
“You went through a huge ordeal last night,” Maeve said firmly. “And you slept — what, three or four hours?”
“That’s plenty,” Anna complained. And it was, too — she’d survived on much less for extended periods of time before.
“It certainly is not,” Maeve said sternly. “And besides — you don’t know what kind of an impact the kind of travel you’ve been through can have on a person. It may have taken more of a toll than you’d expected.”
“That’s true,” Anna admitted, fighting off another yawn. “Maybe I’d better get an early night. But tomorrow I want to start making myself useful! I don’t want to just be some — guest,” she said irritably. “Especially if I’m staying for a while. Everyone around here has a job, pulls their weight. Even if it’s just scrubbing latrines, I want to help out.” She’d had plenty of practice at that in the army, after all, she thought to herself with a grimace. It hadn’t been her favorite duty — hadn’t been anyone’s — but she’d gotten good at it. And if it was what she had to offer the castle, well, she’d offer it. Until they realized she could do much more for them, of course. She had to have faith that they would realize that.
“We’ll find you something to do,” Maeve assured her. “And once you’re rested, maybe we should have a long talk about the Fae.”
“I’d like that,” Anna replied. She meant it, too. Whatever her doubts about the veracity of everyone’s tales about the Fae, there was no denying that there was something going on here. The more information she had, the more likely she would be to be able to figure out exactly what the nature of all the ‘supernatural’ happenings was. And who better to talk to than Maeve, who’d lived here for years, been married to the previous Laird of the Sept, and who claimed to even have lived with the Fae for a time? Knowledge was power, she knew that. But as yet another huge yawn took over her face, she knew she needed a bit of rest before they could have that conversation.
Everyone else was beginning to file out of the Hall, heading for duty or bed. Donal was still deep in conversation with his advisors when Anna moved past his table — she gave him a little wave, but he didn’t notice, so immersed in his conversation. Feeling a little bit foolish, she kept walking. At least her day spent wandering the castle meant she was completely at home with navigation now. She said goodnight to Maeve in the entrance hall. The silver-eyed woman said she’d come to her room the next morning after breakfast — they could sit at the little table and share a pot of tea and some stories about where they’d come from.
“I’d love to know more about you too, Anna,” Maeve said thoughtfully. “I must admit, I’m curious about what our future brings.”
“Absolutely. We can trade stories,” Anna said, pleased at the prospect of spending a little more time with the older woman. She liked the men she’d met just fine — Malcolm was a bit of an impetuous jerk in that way younger men tended to be, Donal was a bit of a chauvinist, and Brendan probably had his foibles too, but they were good men overall, and she liked them. But there was something about friendships with women that was just — different. Not necessarily better, but Anna knew that if she spent too much time around men, her batteries drained a lot faster. It was good to have a confidante like Maeve around. Someone she trusted, someone she could talk to about things.
Well, most things, anyway.
The stairs felt somehow longer and taller than they had earlier that day, each flight draining her energy reserves more and more until she felt alarmingly dizzy. When she reached the floor with her room on it, she breathed a sigh of relief. But this level of fatigue was concerning. Was what Maeve had said true — had the trip between her apartment and the bottom of the lake taken more out of her than she’d previously suspected? She certainly felt tired enough to collapse, even though the day’s exertions had been comparatively light. Probably a good thing that Donal hadn’t taken me up on my offer to spar with him, she thought with a grin, opening the door to her little room. There was a fire crackling in the grate, and she shut her eyes gratefully, letting the warmth sink into her bones. Yes, she definitely felt a little light-headed. That wasn’t good.
A long sleep, she decided, that would help. She’d tuck herself into bed and let her whole body switch off — do what she could to turn off the internal alarm clock that always woke her up at the crack of dawn. She’d always found it hard to rest, but she’d do her best now. There was no sense in wearing herself to the bone and burning out. The last thing I need right now is to get sick, Anna thought to herself as she settled into bed, shivering a little as the cool sheets pressed against her skin. A hot meal and a good night’s sleep were the best medicine, she thought happily to herself as her body heat gradually warmed up the bed. She’d be fighting fit when she woke up in the morning.
Chapter 21
She slept like a log. That was something, at least — she remembered absolutely nothing between drifting off to sleep and waking up, which meant she must’ve slept deeply. But when she woke up, she could already tell that something was wrong. Her body felt strange — stiff and sore as though she’d spent the entire previous day doing heavy lifting or manual labor, not wandering around a castle. And her head was clouded, too, her thoughts strange and semi-delirious when she tried to focus. She opened her eyes with some difficulty, seeing the early dawn light on the wall — for her, that counted as oversleeping. Anna usually stirred a little at least sometime before dawn — the legacy of hundreds of 4 a.m. starts. The fact that she’d slept so soundly, and for this long, could only mean one thing.
She sat up with some difficulty, the sheets sliding back off her body, and swallowed — feeling a horrible scraping in her throat. That confirmed it, she thought with a sinking feeling in her stomach. She was sick.
Being sick wasn’t really an option as a soldier — but head colds weren’t exactly uncommon, with the amount of trekking through freezing mud and water that they did. The best thing to do, she’d learned in her experiences, w
as to pretend you weren’t sick at all — to act as though the symptoms were just part of the training. On no account could you let yourself indulge in self-pity, even for a second — that was a sure-fire recipe for disaster. And for getting yelled at by your drill sergeant, she thought with a grin, remembering the fate of one of her buddies who’d laid in bed a few minutes longer than he should have one morning, nursing a nasty cold. When the sergeant had demanded to know why he’d failed inspection (an untidily made bed and some poorly stowed socks letting him down) he’d explained that he had a horrible cold. The ridicule had lasted for far longer than the cold had, with the drill sergeant offering him a tissue and a hot water bottle every time he struggled with an exercise. Anna, who’d been very green at the time, had quietly taken the note that even if you felt like shit, you had to pretend to be in top shape.
It was a hard habit to shake. But as she swung her legs over the edge of the bed and felt the horrible, lurching feeling in her head, she questioned that instinct, just a little. Did she really owe it to anyone to soldier on through this horrible feeling? Was she pushing herself too hard for people who weren’t going to appreciate the effort anyway? After all, as far as anyone here was concerned, she was just some weak, frail woman, she thought resentfully, getting dressed a lot slower than she usually would have to compensate for the pounding in her head and the strange, dizzy feeling of fever. Why shouldn’t she just stay in bed all day, wasting away? A servant would come by eventually to sort out the fire or change the sheets or whatever it was they did all day — she could prevail upon their mercy, get them to bring her some food. It was tempting, and she lingered by her bed for a moment.
What changed her mind was the thought of what Donal would say if he heard she was languishing in her room with a cold. She had to prove to him that she was strong, that she was tough, that she was a soldier — and that meant continuing to conduct herself like one, even if she suspected he wouldn’t even notice. So, she braced herself, yanked her boots on, and stepped out into the corridor. And besides — she had a tea date with Maeve.
There were things to be learned about the castle and the village — about faeries, about the history of this place, and about what she might be doing here. What her intended destiny was going to be. Would a soldier like Anna let a little cold get in the way of a mission like that? she asked herself, mentally adopting the voice of her drill sergeant. Sir, no, sir.
Still, she took the stairs carefully. Soldier or no soldier, her balance was compromised, and it wouldn’t exactly look good to fall down the stairs and break her neck on her second day here. She was late to breakfast, she realized, moving into the Dining Hall — half the population of the castle seemed to be finished already. Ah, well. Fewer people to infect with my sickness, she thought, grabbing a bowl of porridge and scanning the hall for Maeve. She spotted the woman at the table they’d sat at the night before, waving — she joined her.
“Did you sleep well?”
“I did,” she said, then winced at how crackly her voice sounded. She tried to clear her throat — then dissolved into a coughing fit.
Maeve looked dismayed. “Anna, dear, you’ve fallen ill!”
“It’s nothing,” she tried, still coughing. “Just a head cold. It’ll clear up.”
“You sound like Donal,” Maeve said disapprovingly, rising to her feet. “He’d die of the Plague before admitting he felt under the weather. I’m getting you some tea and honey.”
She spooned her porridge into her mouth as Maeve bustled off to the kitchens, smiling a little. There was honey in the porridge too, and the soft, warm food felt good on her scratchy throat. There was something very heartening about the food at this castle — she could see why mealtimes were such a big event. You’d need something like this a few times a day to keep you going, especially in the dead of winter. Morale was very important, she knew that much.
“Here,” Maeve said briskly, putting a cup of tea down on the table in front of her. “Honey and chamomile. Very healing.”
“Thank you, Maeve,” she said softly, feeling like a little girl again. Her mother had always been very strict about rest and recuperation when she or her brother got sick. Any kind of a fever or cough meant a day home from school, tucked up in bed, the TV brought especially into your room from the lounge. Was there a television hidden around the castle somewhere, she wondered, almost giggling at the thought.
“You pushed yourself too hard yesterday,” Maeve murmured, putting the back of her hand to Anna’s forehead. It felt cool against the skin there, and Anna realized she must be running quite a fever from the frown on the woman’s face.
“Swimming up from the bottom of a lake didn’t help either,” Anna pointed out, her voice comically husky and nasal.
“Hm, well. I think a day or two in bed would serve you well. Finish your breakfast and I’ll escort you back upstairs.”
“Fine,” Anna relented. She’d considered fighting it — but she didn’t much fancy her chances against the stubborn gleam in her new friend’s eye. That had been the expression on her mother’s face every time she or her brother got sick. The look that said they would be cared for and nursed back to health whether they liked it or not.
So, she found herself back in her little bed, propped up on a mountain of pillows, a second mug of tea steaming beside her. Maeve had brought a teapot up, too, and a little plate of what looked like pastries — she seemed to be of the ‘feed a cold’ school of thought when it came to recovering from illness. Though Anna felt a little embarrassed at all the attention, she had to admit that it felt a lot better to have someone looking after her. She settled gratefully against the pillows.
“Can we still have that chat we were going to have?” she asked beseechingly. She didn’t want to just lie here alone all morning — she’d go crazy. She supposed she could nap… but it felt almost impossibly strange to sleep during the morning. She’d always been a morning person, even before the army, and after all that training… well, there was no way she was going to be able to rest, no matter how nasty the cold was.
“If your voice will hold out,” Maeve allowed, an amused smile on her face. “And if you promise to let me know the minute you get too tired to continue.”
“I will, I will.” Anna leaned forward, grabbing a pastry and nibbling at the corner of it. It was delicious — crunchy, buttery, flaky pastry with a still-warm center of fruit. “So — tell me about the Fae. You lived with them?”
“Aye, when I was a girl,” she said, smiling. “My parents died when I was only very small, and I had no family left in the area who would take me in. I was on my way to an orphanage when I saw a light gleaming just off the road. The Fae distracted the people I was with long enough that I wasn’t prevented from wandering off toward it. Then… I was there. In the Land of the Unaging.” She smiled — it was clearly a very fond memory.
Anna remembered stories of lights luring travelers from the road and frowned. Could there be some truth to the old stories? “How long were you there? What was it like?”
“It’s hard to describe,” Maeve said gently. “At least, it is in this language. Gaelic gets closer, but — well, I imagine you don’t speak that,” she chuckled, and Anna shook her head with a laugh. “It was … beautiful. And very strange. We played a lot, I remember that. Intricate, glorious games with complex rules… I can’t remember any of them now, of course. Do you know the feeling of waking up from a vivid dream, sure that you’ll remember the grand adventures you’ve been on for the rest of your life? But then when you try to tell someone, it all slips away?”
“Like trying to hold onto a handful of sand,” Anna said. She knew the feeling well — she’d often tried to describe her dreams, only to realize that she was forgetting them as she spoke. She didn’t dream very often. Or perhaps I do, she thought with a shock — perhaps I had all kinds of wonderful dreams but forgot them before I even woke up. It was a sobering thought.
“Yes, exactly. Well — my time with the Fair F
olk was like that. But when I emerged, I was older. Old enough to make my own way in the world, at least, even though no time had passed out here.”
That was interesting. Anna leaned forward. “So, they returned you to the same day they took you from?”
“Aye, they did. Time works differently for the Fair Folk. Their home is called the Land of the Unaging for a reason. None of them are touched by the passage of time… or at least, if they are, it’s not in a way we have any hope of understanding. Our lives must seem so brief and strange to them,” Maeve said softly. “But still, they reach out and try to help us.”
Anna thought of her little brother’s ant colony. He’d had a fish tank full of ants for years when they’d been going to school, and he’d worked tirelessly to take good care of the creatures, constantly bringing home books on ant care, trying to improve their environment, enrich their little lives however he could. They had no way of understanding that he was taking care of them, and Anna had often wondered what he got out of the strange little hobby. Perhaps that was how the Fair Folk looked at humans — strange little creatures with whom they could never properly communicate, but whom they nevertheless wanted to care for.
“So, they’re benevolent,” Anna said.
“Not all of them. The Unseelie Fae are — well, tricksters at best, and downright malevolent at worst. They’re the ones that steal children for ill, not for good. It’s no wonder people get confused,” she added, sounding exasperated. “But we haven’t had much trouble with them for — oh, for decades, now. An occasional spirit will emerge and need to be dealt with, but in general it’s been so quiet since the Castle was built that the villagers are questioning the need for us in the first place.”
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