“How do you deal with the Unseelie?”
“Cold iron.” Maeve looked serious. “But they are incredibly dangerous, Anna. I would strongly advise against trying to find out more about them on your own.”
“I wouldn’t be that stupid,” Anna said — though she’d quietly been planning how to get hold of a weapon made of cold iron. “Is that why there are so many of those black dirks in the armory? I thought they seemed a little — ordinary.” Dirks were traditionally a back-up weapon — a short dagger used for close-quarters combat and brought out only when the sword had failed. It had been odd to see so many of them, clearly kept in good condition, ready for regular use.
“Aye, they’re all made of iron, deadly to the Fae,” Maeve agreed. “The men take them out when there’s an Unseelie about.”
“How often is that?”
“Now, don’t be getting any ideas,” Maeve warned. “Perhaps if you ask Donal very politely he’d allow you to go along on a patrol one night — but only if it’s absolutely safe, you hear?”
She chafed at that — but Maeve was there to answer her questions, and she didn’t want to be rude, so she just nodded. She could promise to keep herself safe. After all, she would be safe, if she was armed and on the alert for danger. She was a soldier, trained to manage dangerous situations, and trained to handle medieval weaponry (admittedly not by the Army, but still — she could fight with a dirk if she needed to.) So, it wasn’t exactly a promise she’d be likely to break…
Chapter 22
Maeve was sipping at her tea. Anna did the same, lost in thought. Maeve had put honey in the chamomile tea, and it was deliciously soothing on her sore throat, even though it felt like the delirium was getting stronger, the fever worsening.
“So, these creatures exist outside of time, and have the power to bring people forward and back through time. But how can you be sure they’re faeries? There are other explanations for what’s happened,” Anna argued, trying to work through what she’d been thinking about. “I mean — alien abductions, quantum physics…”
“Aliens?” Maeve tilted her head, a smile tweaking the corner of her mouth. “Anna … have you ever heard it said that the simplest answer to a problem is the best?”
“You really think faeries are the simplest answer to this?” Anna asked, raising an eyebrow. “I mean… I don’t doubt that you truly believe that you saw what you saw, but…”
“Still so much doubt,” Maeve said thoughtfully, looking at her closely. “You had a dream the night you came here, didn’t you?”
“Kind of, yeah. I saw —”
“I know exactly what you saw, Anna. I lived there, remember? You saw tall, elegant figures, glowing from within as if they were made completely of light. They probably stood around you in a circle — they like circles. Circles are magical, and protective. They would have been discussing what to do with you in their language. You would have felt a little afraid, but overwhelmingly like you could trust them, like you were safe with them. They would have been beautiful, and strange, and impossible to understand. Does that sound familiar?”
Anna hesitated. “I told Maggie about my dream… you talked to her.”
“Maggie knows the Fae even better than I do,” Maeve said gently. “Maggie’s Fae herself — her mother was a Gruagach. She was born looking just like she does today. Her father was incredibly near-sighted, bless him,” she added with a smile. “He never saw anything wrong with his Fey wife… or with his Fey daughter. A good man, all told. Of course he was. No Sidhe would consort with anyone who wasn’t pure of heart. That’s why everyone likes and trusts you, Anna,” she said forcefully. “Because you’ve been touched by the Fae — they looked at you and saw something in you that was noble and true, worth preserving, worth protecting, worth bringing here where it’s needed. You’ve been given a gift, Anna. We’ll understand it in time — but now, you need to have faith that what’s happened to you isn’t a fairytale, isn’t a trick.”
“I can’t,” she whispered, not wanting to lie to Maeve but feeling awful for not being able to believe in what she was saying. “It’s not — it’s not how I was raised, Maeve, I’m sorry. I need proof, solid evidence —”
“Oh, is that all?” Maeve surprised her by smiling, her silver eyes lighting up. “If you just need proof of magic, well, I can give you that.”
“You can?”
“Of course. I didn’t learn much magic from the Sidhe,” she said thoughtfully, stretching her long, elegant fingers one by one as though preparing to play an instrument. “Just enough to entertain my children. Maggie knows more, of course, much more. Are you watching closely?”
And just like that, with an odd little flourish of her fingertips and a whispered phrase, Maeve summoned a glowing light that hovered above her palm for a few seconds, undeniably real, its light throwing the shadow of the woman’s hand against the wall. Her eyes glowed with their own light, seemingly intensified by the bright orb that hovered above her hand. Anna was mystified. She reached out for the glowing orb, her own fingers illuminated by its light — and as she grew closer, her eyes widened as she felt a gentle warmth coming from it. It was there. It was real. How on earth —?
And as she made contact with it, Maeve murmured another few words, and it disappeared. Anna turned her eyes to the woman, shocked. “That was —"
“Yes.”
“That was the language they spoke! In my dream! You know it?”
“Only a few words. Words have great power, to the Fey — they guard their secrets closely. They spoke around you only because they knew you wouldn’t remember their words. Did you hear them speak your name?”
“Yes,” she whispered. She had — it had sounded beautiful in their strange, lilting accents, but it had been undeniably her name.
“Names have power. Great power. They’d have used your name in bringing you here.” Maeve tilted her head to the side, a teasing smile playing across her beautiful face. She looked younger, somehow, the magic still dancing in her eyes. “Is that enough evidence? Do you believe it yet?”
“I — I’ll have to think about it,” she murmured, feeling suddenly dizzy. She’d thought she had all this under control. Rational explanations, scientific reasoning, that was what she believed would help her figure it all out… and like any rational person, she’d been willing to accept evidence of magic if it was given to her. Or at least, she’d thought she’d be happy to accept evidence of magic. That had been before Maeve had just summoned a ball of light before her very eyes as easily as she’d poured her a cup of tea. She sipped at her tea now, her thoughts racing and spiraling, feeling very dizzy and unwell.
“I understand,” Maeve said softly, reaching out to pat her arm gently. “It’s a lot to get used to. But once you’ve accepted that magic is real… well, I think it’s an important step in finding out why you’ve been brought here.”
“Yeah,” Anna said dully. “Yeah, I guess… wow, magic, huh?”
“Aye, magic,” Maeve said, smiling. “But listen, Anna — there’s no rush at all here, alright? You take all the time you need to work through it. I’m here for you — we all are. If you want to speak with the scholars of the Sept, I’m sure they’d be more than willing to make time for you. They know more about magic than I do — and more about the history of this place. I know it’s hard, but you have all the support you need. I promise.”
Anna opened her mouth to thank her — then sneezed instead, surprising herself. Maeve frowned, pressing the back of her hand to Anna’s forehead again.
“Your fever seems to be getting worse,” she said with gentle dismay. “It might be worth seeing an herbalist for a remedy…”
“I’ll be fine,” Anna said, a little exasperated. “Honestly, Maeve — I’ve been far sicker, and under much more stress before.”
“How so?”
“Well, I was a soldier. Boot camp alone…” But she realized Maeve didn’t know what that meant — she had no frame of reference to refer to. It
was basically impossible to describe the Army to anyone who hadn’t experienced it for themselves, that was true. But at least with people from her time, Anna could use movies and TV shows to help describe what training had been like, what war was like. Movies and TV shows didn’t get it right either — but they got a lot closer than she could get with just words. She opened her mouth and closed it again, aware of Maeve’s patient interest. “It’s hard to describe,” she said weakly. “But the training… a lot of it was about resilience. We worked through stuff like this. It was almost … good, to fall sick, because it gave you practice at working hard and training even when your body wasn’t in optimal shape.”
Maeve was nodding — this seemed to make sense to her. “The men go swimming in the Loch in midwinter to build endurance. I imagine this is similar.”
Anna laughed. “Yeah! Exactly. Wow, that sounds like a good way to get really tough really fast. It must be freezing.”
“Oh, yes. And the Monster is always very interested in what’s going on,” Maeve added with a twinkle in her eye. “One tends to swim faster with an enormous creature like that at one’s heels.”
“The monster’s friendly though, right?”
“Oh, yes. But it’s still rather frightening.”
Anna remembered the feeling of the huge force rising up beneath her as she’d swum desperately for the surface of the loch. The idea of swimming with that thing nipping at her heels… well, she wasn’t surprised that it spurred the men on to swim faster. She laughed. “I suppose so. But — yes, swimming in freezing water, training in terrible conditions — it’s as much to train the body as to train the mind. Mental resilience. Discipline. Working through discomfort — because that kind of ability might save your life one day.”
“You’re certainly an interesting woman, Anna Clarke,” Maeve said thoughtfully. “I think my boys were wrong to discount your combat experience so quickly.”
“That’s what I’ve been saying,” Anna said, trying not to sound too much like a petulant child — and failing. “I tried to challenge Donal to a sparring match yesterday and he wouldn’t even hear of it.”
Maeve laughed. “Challenging the Laird to a fight on your first day… no wonder he likes you so much.”
An unexpected flush of warmth moved through her at that — a warmth that had nothing to do with her fever. “He does?”
“Oh, aye.”
What was that look in Maeve’s eye? It was — sly, somehow. Conniving. Like she was up to something. Anna had seen that look in her friends’ eyes before they ‘accidentally’ introduced her to some handsome, single guy who just so happened to be drinking at the bar they’d all gone out to… suspicion began to rise in Anna’s mind. “He’s been very much struck by you.”
“Could’ve fooled me,” Anna sighed. “He thinks I’m some silly woman who’s destined for nothing more than childrearing and domestic work…”
“There’s nothing wrong with either of those things,” Maeve said, a sharpness in her tone that surprised Anna.
She hastened to correct herself. “Of course not! And I want all of that someday. But — I hate being told that it’s all I can do, you know? I’m capable of that, yes, but I’m capable of more than that. All women are. And if we tell little girls that all they can be is housewives, that’s all they’ll ever try to be… and who knows how many of them could have been powerful warriors?”
Maeve was nodding, but Anna could tell that she wasn’t especially taken by her argument. How could she be? It was clear that she’d chosen a life of childrearing and domestic labor — that it truly brought her joy. And that is wonderful, Anna thought crossly, but what about all the women who didn’t find joy in that life? Were they just expected to suffer in silence? She supposed they were. Maybe this was her purpose here, she thought, not for the first time. Maybe she needed to lead some kind of feminist revolution in the sixteenth century. Well, she’d start with Donal.
“I think you ought to get some rest,” Maeve said gently.
Anna was surprised to realize that she was sleepy — sleepy enough to actually think about taking a mid-morning nap. She glanced at the tea, suspicion in her eyes.
Maeve laughed. “I haven’t drugged you, Anna. You’re tired. Let yourself rest. Even fearsome warriors need to rest and heal sometimes.”
How could Anna argue with that? Maeve rose to her feet, and moved to the door, silent as a cloud — and by the time the door had clicked shut, Anna was fast asleep.
Chapter 23
This sleep was full of dreams — uneasy, nervous dreams about strange, shadowy figures that lurked behind every door in the castle, every building in the village. Anna patrolled, in her dream, wearing her combat fatigues, but something was wrong. She didn’t have a weapon. No gun, not even a knife strapped to her shin — she was completely unarmed. And there were enemies circling — horrible, shapeless creatures with malevolent, glowing red eyes and high-pitched laughter that she kept hearing just on the edge of her field of vision. How was she going to fight them off? How was she going to protect everyone in the village from the unseelie Fae if she couldn’t even protect herself with a weapon?
It must have been mid-afternoon when she finally woke up, the bedsheets tangled around her, her forehead covered in sweat. She sat bolt upright in bed — then groaned, dropping back against the pillows, at the stab of a headache between her eyes. That definitely isn’t good, she thought muzzily, fighting through the unwellness to reach for the cup of cold tea by her bedside. It was still delicious, and the honey soothed her throat, which had gotten even more sore while she was sleeping. This was a nasty cold. She pulled the blankets tighter around her, shivering a little even though she could tell the room wasn’t cold. Maeve had left the pastries by the bed, too, and she reached out for one, nibbling at it without appetite, but knowing it would help to keep her body’s reserves of fuel up.
The physical discomfort matched her mental unease to a T, she thought, huddling down under the blankets again once she’d eaten. The pastry was sitting in her stomach like a rock — just like the new information Maeve had revealed was sitting uncomfortably in her mind. Was she really going to have to accept that magic was real? Was she going to have to accept that supernatural creatures called Sidhe had brought her here for some strange purpose? Accepting it was a horrible prospect… it made her feel powerless and confused. She didn’t know the first thing about these creatures. How could she make plans, take tactical steps, if there was such a huge unknown quantity in the equation?
She supposed that she’d just have to learn as much as possible about the creatures. Go to the occultists, ask them to teach her, or at least to lend her some books about the Fae. But from what Maeve had been saying, nobody truly understood the Sidhe. How much could she really learn from books or from other people, when Maeve had lived with them for years without even being able to speak their language more than a few words? It sounded like they were secretive, deceptive creatures… how could she even trust them? Yes, she’d felt that sense of warmth and trust when she’d been with them… but that could just as easily have been a spell. After all, they were magical, weren’t they?
And all of this sounded like so much work. Anna drifted back into a troubled sleep, feeling too depressed and miserable to stay awake any longer, to try to work through the problem. When she woke up again, it was dark, and her body was shivering. Her door was standing open — there was a servant looking down at her with worry on her face.
“Emily?” she croaked. It looked like the girl — and sure enough, the worried face was familiar.
“Oh, you poor thing,” Emily said with dismay. Her arms were full of firewood — she’d clearly come to set a fire in her hearth. It must be dinner time or thereabouts, then. “Have you fallen ill, then?”
“Unfortunately, yes,” Anna said with difficulty, sitting up in bed and groaning at the aches in her body. This was a nasty cold — worse than any she could remember. Or was it just that she was in bed, paying clos
e attention to her body, not out focusing her mind on training?
“I’ll bring you up some dinner,” Emily promised, setting the fire with rapid, confident movements.
Anna lay back in bed, feeling useless, but grateful to be cared for. True to her word, Emily brought her a heaping plateful of roast meat and vegetables, as well as a fresh pot of tea to soothe her throat. Anna thanked her warmly before setting about her meal, the warmth of the fire chasing the chill from the room and making her feel better.
Maeve stopped by briefly in the evening to check on her, frowning when she admitted the cold was worse. She’d brought her some kind of herbal remedy for her illness — a little basket full of cloth strips like the ones Maggie had used to bandage up Donal’s arm the night before. Anna squinted into the basket. Her head was all clogged up with mucus and inflammation, and she hardly had a sense of smell anymore, but the wraps smelled faintly of camphor.
“I went and visited Maggie this afternoon,” Maeve explained, setting the little basket on Anna’s bedside table. “She said she was sorry to hear you were feeling so under the weather. Sent these along to heal you — they’re to go on your chest and throat. Herbal remedy.”
Anna looked at the fabric with unease. It smelled strange and looked stranger — was she really expected to wrap those around her body? At least Maeve didn’t seem like she was about to do it for her — she was pouring her yet another cup of tea.
“Thank you for looking after me. I hate being sick,” Anna grumbled. “I feel so useless.”
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