The Shattered Mirror (Winter's Blight Book 4)

by M. C. Aquila

  The faeries had a variety of complexions. Some had animal or other markings on their skin; one Deirdre passed had dark brown skin with faint golden symbols that were a cross between stripes and knotwork. But there was no mistaking they were all of the same species: all the Noble faeries had horns, tall statures, and Grecian clothing of mostly white, black, gray, or blue green held together with clasps and belts. And all of them, despite speaking levelly and without effort, had voices that were easily heard above the rushing river and the roar of the falls.

  Despite their overall pleasant manner, Deirdre went tense and watchful as she walked among them, feeling like she was surrounded by bears. Even though she was also a faery, she still couldn’t help but feel they were different. For a moment she looked again at Cardea, who she was again walking arm in arm with, and had a sudden desire to run away from her. But she forced herself to keep going even though her legs were stiff and she felt like every eye was on her.

  They stopped near the base of the falls, staying on the rocky riverbank when Deirdre heard a familiar voice calling her name. Iain, followed by James, Kallista, and Cai, approached them from the woods, accompanied by two of the soldier faeries from last night and a rather sour-faced Nikias. Cardea snickered, looping her arm out of Deirdre’s and going to speak with her brother.

  At the same time, Iain reached Deirdre, asking, “Are you all right?” He glanced down at her once-injured ankle, which she was standing on with her full weight.

  “I’m fine—she gave me Seelie fruit and this… fruit juice or wine or something? And my ankle is healed!” Deirdre stuck her foot out for emphasis, then asked, “Are you all okay? The tree prison wasn’t too bad, was it?”

  Iain shook his head. “It was fine. And it was just the night.”

  “What’s all this about?” Kallista asked, gesturing at all the faeries around them, eyes wide and her hand shaking. “Nikias wouldn’t tell us anything.”

  James said nothing, briefly meeting eyes with Deirdre before taking out his book and pencil as if to make notes. However, the moment he looked at the nearest group of faeries seated on a large stone sprouted up from the river, he went still, his book and pencil trembling in his hands.

  Cai was also silent. While he had been allowed to keep his sword, he had his hand gripped so tight onto the pommel his fingers were turning white.

  Realizing they were even less comfortable than she was, Deirdre stepped over and put a hand on Kallista’s and James’s shoulders. “They’re just waiting for the king and queen. I think.” She forced a laugh, gesturing at all the faeries around them. “I mean, they could be here already, and we may not know it—”

  Suddenly the chatter around them died down. In a flash of fire above the falls, Roshan appeared midair, turning one of the spirals of water to ice with a wave of his hand, landing lightly upon it. He took out his staff, spun it with a smile, and brought its long handle down on the ice, which sent out a reverberating ching. The sound had a sweet, musical note to it, but it shook Deirdre like a peal of thunder.

  All remaining discussion immediately ceased as two figures stepped out of the waterfall, the mist freezing to make shining stepping-stones beneath them.

  Oberon resembled Roshan—dark olive skin, dark hair, and the same kind of horns, except the antlers were more mature. He wore a deep blue chiton the color of the ocean, with a leather belt bearing bright gold decoration that stood against his robe like sunlight on a wave. His gray eyes were bright, and when they passed over Deirdre, she couldn’t help but duck back and look down. She might have hidden behind Iain, but James was already taking that spot.

  Titania, dressed in a floor-length peplos, raised her bronze, gold-dappled arms as she said in a strong voice, “It has been well over a cycle since Court was last convened, for one of our own who was lost has found her way back.” She gestured to Deirdre, her gaze a bit less oppressive than Oberon’s, like the sun shining through a forest canopy.

  Feeling all eyes on her, and the intensity of their attention, Deirdre, who did not normally mind crowds or attention, wished she could shrink down and disappear into the ground.

  “We welcome you back with open arms, Deirdre,” Titania said, extending a hand to her, beaming, her red hair catching the sunlight. Her horns were gold and were not like any animal—instead, they were a cluster of delicate, sharp spikes on both sides of her head.

  Deirdre gulped and was about to try to manage a “Thank you” when Oberon spoke first.

  “We must not forget she is not the same child who was spirited away from the realm.” He folded his arms, looking at Deirdre. “Not all reunions are meant to last. Save your joy and your welcome for when we know her fate better.” He glanced at his wife.

  She folded her hands, her knee-length braids swaying as she tilted her head. “But to return to the realm without magic, in order to finally be reunited with her family, is commendable. After all, she was no stronger than a human, and most humans would perish in such a journey.”

  “That does not change the problem at hand.” He looked back at Deirdre. “A faery without magic—who cannot even possibly sense magic—has no place in the realm.”

  Stepping to Oberon’s side, Titania put a hand on his shoulder and addressed both him and the crowd. “Of course, there is a chance for her to regain her magic. After all”—she gestured to all her subjects—“magic is, in a sense, who and what we are. There is still hope.”

  “Though it is slim, as it is clear her loss of magic is not a very recent development,” Oberon added.

  Titania slid her hand off his arm, and her cheeks were dotted red as she took a step away from him and raised her head, calling, apparently to the sky, “Lonan, Sybil!”

  Immediately, on the opposite bank of the river from Deirdre, two faeries, accompanied by Alvey in her chair, appeared from the shaded woods.

  Sybil—these must be Alvey’s parents! Deirdre grinned, standing on her toes to get a better look at them. Iain and James stepped forward, joining her.

  “Look at that,” James whispered. “He doesn’t have any horns!”

  Lonan, a raven-haired faery, had the height and striking gaze of the other male Nobles. However, his skin had no markings, his head bore no horns, and his eyes were a deep ruby red. In addition, his wine-colored clothes were more of a European fashion, with a tunic, trousers, and full-length sleeves.

  Sybil stood out in strong contrast to her husband. Her skin was light brown, her hair and eyes were deep gold, and her Grecian-style clothes were blue with a white-and-yellow himation wrapped over her shoulders.

  They stepped toward the royal couple, briefly bowing their heads. Oberon opened his mouth to speak, but Titania ran right over him, nearly shouting, “Your daughter, Deirdre, has returned!”

  Most of the faeries cheered, several creating and sending out balls of light of a variety of colors that danced, burst, and changed shape in the air. But Deirdre barely noticed, staring, frozen, her mind racing.

  Their daughter? But they’re Alvey’s parents! They don’t—neither of them are ginger! This can’t be right. Alvey would have told me. She would have said something!

  She looked over to Alvey, expecting to see the girl shaking her head or groaning and throwing her hands in the air—giving some sign this was a big mix-up. Some sign that Alvey, one of Deirdre’s few friends, hadn’t been hiding this from her.

  But Alvey was quiet in her chair, arms folded. She seemed to sense Deirdre’s gaze and shifted in her seat, her overgrown bangs hiding her face.

  Alvey?

  “No.”

  The voices went silent and the lights faded slightly. Sybil stepped from her husband, toward the riverbank, golden eyes fixed on Deirdre. Deirdre shuddered and stepped back—instead of her mother, she felt like a mountain lion was approaching her and was grateful for the wide river between them.

  “No. You can’t be Deirdre.” Sybil pointed at her, her hand trembling. “’Tis impossible. Deirdre is dead!”

  “I�
��” Deirdre shook her head. “I was… I was in a, um”—she gulped and forced herself to continue—“I was in a convent, an orphanage there. So—”

  “This is all a lie!” Sybil shook her head, her hair flying. “You cannot be real. I won’t be tricked again!”

  Deirdre opened her mouth to protest but saw the flash of tears in Sybil’s eyes. The other faery turned on her heel, disappearing in a golden flash of light that shot into the forest, away from the river and away from Deirdre.

  Alvey scowled in Deirdre’s direction, asking loudly, “May I leave to see to my mother?”

  “Go at once,” Oberon responded. As Alvey wheeled away, Oberon whispered something to his wife, who frowned and turned away from him, folding her arms.

  He then addressed Deirdre, who was wiping away tears, and said, “You will have the chance to train with your father, whose primary magic is also Shadow Magic”—he glanced at Lonan—“and perhaps reconnect with your power.”

  “What about—?” Deirdre gestured weakly to where her mother had vanished. “She… really was my mother?”

  “Aye.” Oberon’s voice softened. “Sybil is one of the most vital members of the Court. She is unsurpassed in her skill for Light Magic. She wove the spell for the barrier that protects the Court and the entire island from the second bomb.” He gestured upward before continuing, “She fulfills her duty honorably, and it is an honor for you to be her daughter. Her mind may be damaged from all she has undergone over the years, but no one has the right to speak ill of her in any way. Is that understood?”

  Deirdre managed a nod.

  “After Court is convened, you will go and train with Lonan. As our Court judge and one of the most skilled with Shadow Magic, he is fully capable of providing all aid possible—but whether or not you can reconnect with your magic is ultimately your responsibility, Deirdre.”

  Deirdre glanced once at her father. Their eyes met and he gave her a small smile, but she barely saw it as her eyes swam with tears again.

  Chapter Six

  As the orange dawn shone through the lattice of tree branches in the holding cell, Iain had awoken in the hammock feeling refreshed and full of confidence to have his say at the Court summons. His optimism was only slightly dampened by Cai’s relentless sarcasm.

  “Are you ready to face the Court, Iain?” Cai asked him in a low voice as they were led by Nikias and two of his men through the cool green forest, dappled sunlight gliding across them.

  Iain nodded firmly. “Yes.”

  “Wrong answer.” Cai chuckled, his demeanor careless, though his hand had not left the pommel of his sword since they walked out of the tree. “You’ll never be ready to come face-to-face with Noble faeries like this. To think you are is foolishness.”

  “You set me up,” Iain said with a wry smile.

  “I did.” Cai stared ahead, his eyes narrowing on the faery soldiers guiding them through the forest. “But if you think this will go your way, that we’ll be listened to, you need to get that out of your head right now.”

  Only when they’d reached the massive, roaring waterfall did Iain realize what Cai had meant. Being in the presence of these Seelie faeries was not something anyone could prepare for, no more than Daniel could have been prepared to be thrown in a den with lions. But he wasn’t afraid. It wasn’t like the primal, animal fear the Unseelie monsters produced. It was like learning for the first time that the cosmos existed and feeling small in the vastness of space.

  Beside him, James’s eyes were darting wildly about as he tried to take everything in, but he couldn’t seem to look at any faery or force of magic long enough to process it.

  Iain grabbed his arm, feeling his pulse racing rabbit-fast under his skin, but when James met his gaze, he calmed down after a few seconds. “How are you feeling?” Iain asked.

  “I-it’s… it’s amazing. So bright, and, um, amazing. Am I making any sense?”

  “No,” Iain admitted. “But that makes sense.”

  “How… how about you?”

  Iain chuckled rather shakily. “Remember that one Christmas Eve—I was eleven or so—and Mum forced me to sing with the choir during evening church? Dad was there and Boyd and Philip… I was so nervous, and I thought I was going to be sick.”

  His brother’s green eyes cleared, lighting up with recognition, a smile slowly forming on his face.

  “Mum said it was nerves, that the sick feeling was good. But it wasn’t just nerves. It was the eggnog I’d had earlier that had gone off. And then, in the middle of the song, when I stepped up to sing…” Iain trailed off, letting the memory speak for itself. “Well, that’s how I feel right now.”

  James’s face split into a wide grin. “Remind me, um, not to stand too close to you today.”

  “Too bad Boyd’s not here to take the brunt of the vomit stream this time, yeah?” Iain barely suppressed a laugh as James snorted.

  Then, leaning in close, James whispered slyly, “If you have to, go for Nikias.”

  The arrival of Oberon and Titania was a blur of color and light and sound, senses assaulted. But after Lonan and Sybil arrived, Deirdre’s parents, Iain was able to pay close attention to what was happening around him, focusing on Deirdre. After Sybil left in a flash, Deirdre was trembling like a leaf in the wind beside him, and Iain’s chest ached to see her so stricken.

  He reached for her, to place his hand on her shoulder or perhaps embrace her, but Mum sidled up to her instantly and whispered comforting words. He turned from them as Oberon’s rumbling voice sounded, seeming like the faery king was right beside him as he ordered, “Nikias informed me of your concerns to bring up with the Court. Come forth and speak.”

  Iain and Cai walked in unison toward the wide river and the falls, but Nikias cut in front of them swiftly. After frowning at the two humans over his shoulder, the leader of the Eniad took a few solid steps into the river. The instant his boots hit the water, but before even a drop touched them, the river parted and made dry, solid ground under his feet.

  Iain and Cai followed Nikias to the middle of the river, near the base of the falls, where he announced, “My lord and lady, before you stands the cursed human knight and the boy of no consequence.”

  Iain hadn’t planned on freezing up. He dug his fingers into his palms to ground himself, searching for his voice when Cai spoke up.

  “No consequence?” Cai’s hard features twitched from the effort of keeping his muscles relaxed in the den of Seelies. Looking past Nikias and directly at the king and queen, Cai said, “This lad is Iain Callaghan, and his father, General Alan Callaghan, is on his way to your doorstep with a human army and the Winter Court’s monsters at his back. We came here to warn you of such a threat.”

  Murmurs and whispers rolled through the crowd of Seelie Fae like a ripple from the river around them. Rising above it all was the musical, high, clear laugh of Titania. “The human army has never been of consequence. You bring us no news at all and are dismissed.”

  “Stand down, wife,” Oberon ordered with a thrust of his hand. “I sense the humans have more to say on the matter.”

  The force of Titania’s glare toward her husband, though masked with a bright smile, made Iain want to laugh and cringe at the same time.

  “That we do,” Cai agreed with a grunt, bowing his head slightly. Then he took one step back, gesturing to Iain as he continued, “But this lad knows more about it than I do. He’s seen the might of the human army firsthand.”

  Nodding once, Iain cleared his throat, brushed the surface of the amulet under his shirt with his fingers, and began to speak. At first he felt like he had to bellow to be heard over the sound of the roaring waterfall, but when he did this, the Seelies laughed around him.

  They can probably hear me fine talking normally.

  “With respect, Your Majesty, the human army is not the same as the one you might have encountered before the Cataclysm,” Iain said. “In the wake of the bombing of Old London, a faction of the military was forged called t
he Iron Guard. This branch is specifically trained to deal with and take down Fae—Unseelie and Seelie alike. They are armed with new tech and weapons, iron and silver. Their newest achievement was building a machine that can drain magic.” Iain’s voice faltered at the last part, and he clenched his fists. “The machine was built not only to drain and use Fae magic as a weapon—it was also built to bring this barrier, the one protecting your Court, down.”

  Pointing in the direction where he had come from, Iain said, “Right now the Iron Guard is allied with the Winter Court, and they are headed here to bring the barrier down and to make war, to let the bomb fall. They have the magic they need in the machine: Deirdre’s magic.”

  Of all the faeries in Iain’s line of sight, only Lonan looked as stricken as the rest ought to be. His steady, piercing red gaze met Iain’s and then flicked behind him to the bank, where Deirdre, his daughter, was standing. The faery’s mouth formed a severe line.

  In the following silence, Oberon considered Iain and Cai for a brief moment. “The Unseelies have been attempting to ally with the humans for some centuries now in their war against us. Tell me how you believe this to be true.”

  Cai stepped forward again. “The nature of my curse allows me to survive mortal wounds. When I fought General Callaghan, he had strange Unseelie magic that attacked my curse with precision, like it knew exactly how Unseelie magic worked.

  “What’s more, the boy and his mother”—Cai gestured to Mum and James, who were standing close together—“know the army has dealings with the Winter Court through the Cait Sidhe, to whom they were sold as thralls for the army’s access to this machine.”

  Quickly James lowered his head, hiding his face from view behind Mum’s shoulder. Iain wondered if the mention of such a creature like the Cait Sidhe was too overwhelming for him in the midst of all of this. Mum, however, stared ahead and blinked tears from her eyes, her back straight as a rod.