The Shattered Mirror (Winter's Blight Book 4)

by M. C. Aquila

  He conjured the image of Deirdre leaving with her father in his mind, willing his feelings for her to vanish into the forest as they had—at least for now. He willed himself not to think of how warm and solid she had felt in his arms as he embraced and spun her around or how much brighter she made every room seem or how wonderfully goofy she could be. Instead, he imagined her walking away and not looking back this time.

  Mum was staring at him, her brows pulled together.

  “Neither of us will get hurt, Mum. I’ll make sure of it,” Iain said. “I know you’re looking out for me, and for Deirdre, but I’ve got to do what I can to help her. I’ve got to do whatever I can here, for the Court.”

  Letting out a shaky breath, Mum gave him a quick hug. “I know, Iain. You’ve always been like this, ever since you were a little boy. You can’t just stand by. I was proud then, and I am proud now.”

  “I’m proud of you too, Mum,” Iain said, leaning down and planting a kiss on her forehead.

  From where he was watching with veiled interest, Cai cleared his throat and looked at him expectantly, jesting, “Oh, but neither of you are proud of me? Figures.”

  “What, you want a smooch from me too?” Iain asked, laughing.

  Cai made a disgusted face and then reddened when Mum completely lost her composure in a fit of giggles. Snorting and wiping at her eyes, she dismissed it as her releasing tension. Cai turned away, hiding an amused smile.

  “Iain, wipe that grin off your face,” Cai ordered after a moment, smirking. “We’re continuing your training now, champion.”

  While Mum sat a few feet away on a tree, Cai ran Iain through similar drills with his axe like the last time at the festival. They were not at it long before Iain felt a familiar, burning gaze on his back. It was not hostile, but it was not comfortable either.

  Iain turned around. An arc of orange flame was slowly falling through the sky, sparks shimmering as they fell to the lush green forest floor without scorching anything. The Summer Prince, Roshan, appeared through the fire a few feet in front of them, the heat of it smothering the air for a second before the flames dissipated.

  His fiery gaze shifting from Cai and resting on Iain, Roshan said, his voice both firm and cheerful, “King Oberon has decided that as Deirdre trains to prove herself, and so shall you. In three days’ time, you will accompany me on the Wild Hunt, where we will investigate your claims made today.”

  After bowing his head a little, Iain nodded, straightening his back. “Right.”

  “Seriously, lad?” Cai made a choked sound in his throat, peering around to gape at Iain. Then he turned his attention to Roshan. “Prince Roshan, you did not ask if Iain agreed to participate in the Wild Hunt. It is not something for any human to take lightly, especially one so inexperienced. Even Fae become lost or killed in such events. I know I’m not crazy enough to try it.”

  Iain’s stomach turned.

  Roshan’s features pulled together for a moment, and Iain wondered if he was offended or angered. However, the faery’s mouth split into a wide grin a second later. Laughing like a roar of flame, he said, “I cannot remember the last time I met a human. I forget it is customary for humans to ask each other, to agree. Mother says I sound more like my father, Oberon, with every passing cycle.”

  Relaxing, Iain let out a low, surprised chuckle. “It’s unavoidable, I’ve heard. But maybe there’s hope for us.”

  “Quite.” The faery beamed. “Here in the Court, however, you must adapt for your survival. Orders are given for a reason and are to be obeyed without question.” Roshan tilted his head. “You, Iain Callaghan, do not seem to mind this truth as much as the other humans in your party.”

  “I guess I kind of got used to taking orders when I was in the Iron Guard, er, briefly.”

  Nodding, Roshan said, “I ought to have known you were a soldier. You have the unmistakable mien of a true warrior in training.”

  A warrior?

  Iain quite liked this fellow. Despite having a demeanor of strength and power, Roshan was surprisingly easygoing.

  “Very much in training,” Cai added with a cough.

  Puffing out his chest a little bit, Iain explained, “Well, I’ve broken up a few bar fights, but until I left my home in Neo-London, I had never fought any Unseelies before. So, yeah, I’m still learning.”

  “Drunken Fae can be quite rowdy as well.” Roshan nodded in agreement, then asked, “What kind of beasts have you fought?”

  Iain rubbed at the back of his neck absently, suddenly self-aware. “There was this Unseelie dwarf in this cave who had a hoard of treasure who I beheaded. With my axe.”

  To his surprise, Roshan did not scoff at him. “That is impressive for a human as young and inexperienced as you are.”

  “Thanks.” With a small laugh, Iain added, joking, “There were a few giant spiders too. And, not to brag, but I’ve taken care of some pretty beastly house spiders in the military housing in my day.”

  Roshan stared at him blankly. “That is no great feat. I do not know why you would brag of it in the first place.”

  Cai chimed in when Iain could only gape. “Sarcasm. Faeries just don’t get it.”

  Roshan turned his bright eyes to Cai. He had the same spark James had when he was eager to learn something new. “Ah, you mean double-speak. That is when a human says the opposite of what they mean or disguise their true intent.”

  “Well, it’s a little different than that,” Iain said. “Alvey has actually become quite good at sarcasm.”

  “Did you teach her this skill?”

  “It was a group effort,” Cai said.

  “I should like to learn more about this,” Roshan said contemplatively. “You will teach me after the Wild Hunt.”

  Iain nodded, grinning. “All right.”

  “However”—Roshan frowned suddenly, looking as intimidating and stormy as Oberon himself—“that sounds completely awful and I would loathe to spend more time with you.”

  Again, Iain’s mouth fell open, and before he heard the cracking sound of his pride shattering in his ears, Roshan grinned. The faery’s eyes were alight with mischief as he asked, “Was my sarcasm effective?”

  All Iain could do was laugh as the faery snickered.

  “You’re hilarious,” Cai drawled, but his bearing suddenly straightened as he asked, “Would it be possible to ask a favor, in regard to one of our own?”

  “What manner of favor?”

  “James, the boy who left with Alvey not long ago. Could a lower member of the Court perhaps watch over him?”

  Kallista stood, brow furrowing. “You mean have him followed?”

  Cai shrugged. “I was thinking of more like spying on him, but…”

  “He won’t get into any trouble with Alvey,” Iain said immediately. “He can handle himself, and”—he let out a nervous chuckle—“he’s well-behaved with girls, if you haven’t noticed.”

  “I was asked to keep an eye on him.” Cai turned to Roshan. “I can’t very well keep that promise while I’m training Iain. I know this realm is dangerous, even with Alvey by his side. Just one extra eye watching him… I’d appreciate it very much.” Cai even did a small, polite bow.

  Iain and Kallista’s gaze met as they both gaped.

  But Roshan was already nodding. “Certainly, that can be arranged. He is terribly young—and with all the trouble she has gotten herself into in the past, Alvey warrants extra care as well. Her parents would not mind. I shall have James watched over by a Dryad, who shall regularly report to you—unless something is urgently wrong, in which case the faery shall come to me.”

  Cai quickly bowed his head. “Thank you.”

  After Roshan left, Cai pointed at Iain and said, “Not one word about that.”

  “I wasn’t going to say anything,” Iain said, unable to stop smiling.

  “And not a word to James either. I don’t want him shouting at me and cracking his voice; it sounds like a banshee.” Rubbing his hands, Cai went on more serio
usly, “Now, let’s go over everything we collectively know about the Wild Hunt. We’ll prepare your mind with knowledge and a plan, and then we’ll work on preparing your body with a little more training.”

  “Right.”

  “What do you know about the Wild Hunt from stories?” Cai asked as they walked around the clearing.

  “They’re destructive, yeah? They’re usually a bad omen.” Iain felt himself pale a little, but he steeled himself. “Mum used to say it was bad luck to talk about it, because the hunt meant death, and the hunted were departed souls.”

  “That’s the more modern version. But it isn’t quite as close to reality. However, they are still destructive. Not evil but still potentially deadly.”

  “What’s the point of the Wild Hunt, if not to chase souls?”

  “It’s to hunt monsters. Unseelie monsters. They’ll probably be hunting those Unseelie hounds we encountered yesterday evening in addition to checking on your claims.”

  A burst of anxious excitement struck him. “Good,” he said. “The Court should stop those monsters.”

  In a warning tone, Cai reminded him, “The Wild Hunt is not something many humans have witnessed and lived through, Iain, much less participated in it. It will test you in every way, and you will have to keep focused on the task at hand. The faeries… I can’t promise they’ll save you if anything goes wrong. In fact, I have a feeling some of them will want you to fail.”

  “Why?” Iain gaped.

  “To get you out of the way. Or maybe for a laugh.” Cai shrugged. “Luckily, Lonan won’t be on the hunt.”

  Iain balked. I guess I wasn’t imagining the icy looks he was giving me.

  “I’ll be strong enough,” he said, sounding more confident than he felt.

  “But like I said, there are things in this realm humans cannot prepare for, no matter how hard you try. But you can prepare your muscles a little. You’ll be riding on the back of some kind of animal, no doubt.” He suddenly stopped walking, frowning at Iain. “Have you ever ridden a horse even?”

  Iain blinked. “I don’t think I’ve even petted a horse. Maybe once, at the Cataclysm Memorial.”

  The old knight smirked, gesturing to the center of the clearing. “Then we’ll work on strengthening those legs of yours. Give me some lunges and squats. Get to it, champion!”

  Chapter Eight

  “I sense Water Magic nearby,” Alvey said, pointing, as she and James made their way through the woods.

  The forest was dense, filled with new green saplings as well as ancient trees towering over them. The bark was covered with red moss and lichen and mushrooms James had never seen before. He had stopped a few times to jot down some observations in his notebook or even attempt a quick sketch.

  Where Alvey pointed was an opening through the trees, and beyond, there was an open field nearly white with sunlight.

  “Isn’t there Water Magic nearby everywhere?” He couldn’t help but grin. “I can still hear the river, and, uh, we’ve gone pretty far from it.”

  “Aye. But I sense a clean well for drinking has been formed recently.”

  “A well?” He swallowed hard. “You mean… with, um, faery water?”

  “No. It should be safe for humans and animals…” Alvey trailed off, then lowered her voice, turning her head so that her blond fringe of hair moved out of her face, and listened for a moment. “’Tis as I thought. We are being followed.”

  For a second, James’s limbs went icy at the ominous statement. Then, after glancing around, he said, “Well, at least it’s not Unseelie, whatever it is. We know that.”

  “Be that as it may, creatures here are wont to be just as dangerous.” After listening a moment longer and after telling him to shush his loud breathing, Alvey said, “I hear the quiet creaking of branches, like something perching on them. Owl faeries, I expect. Dryads.”

  “Dryads!” James gasped. “Why would we mind being followed by, uh, something as harmless and amazing as them?”

  “’Tis likely they were either sent by Cardea to follow me or by Nikias to spy upon you.”

  The sensation James had been experiencing since his arrival to the Summer Court enveloped him again, like facing the full light of the bright, burning sun, and there was nowhere to look or hide where it could not reach. All was illuminated, and no thought was hidden from sight.

  “Why—?” Anger sharpened his tone. “Why would he spy on me? I have nothing to hide. I haven’t… I haven’t done anything wrong.”

  Alvey giggled at him. “’Tis nothing to be offended about. Truly, the Eniad would spy upon any human or even strange faery here. You ought not be so defensive.”

  James sighed, relaxing his shoulders. “You’re probably right, Alvey.”

  “Methinks you could stand to say that more often.”

  Around them, the tree branches rustled faintly as a cool wind flowed through them, smooth as rushing water. Soundlessly, a few faeries similar to Eurasian eagle owls in coloring and shape glided above them, twisting and winding effortlessly through the trees. They landed on a branch and stared at the two teenagers, clicking their oddly white beaks and bobbing their heads.

  “Amazing.” James beamed, watching them. Then, leaning over Alvey’s chair, breathless, he whispered by her ear, “So how do we ditch them?”

  “By going someplace they will not follow.”

  “Why won’t they follow?” He took a deep breath, preparing to unleash more questions. “Is it against the rules? Or maybe—”

  “Nay.” Alvey’s mouth stretched into a Cheshire cat grin. “’Tis because they are too craven to follow us where we are going for fear of waking the sleeping creature there.”

  James stared at her, his eyes going wide and his face warming, simultaneously dazzled and disconcerted by the half elf’s confidence and bravery. He was about to ask where they were going when—

  A frantic, screeching birdcall rang through the forest. The cry echoed, and the plants shifted as animals and faeries leaped about in the foliage.

  There was a panicked flapping of wings overhead as an iridescent bluish-black-and-white blur shot through the forest, careening through the leaves. The oversized magpie zoomed low over James’s and Alvey’s head, ruffling their hair—swooping after it were two more owl faeries, who chittered angrily. The teenagers ducked.

  The two owl faeries, who were perched on the branch and watching Alvey and James, took off after the other birds, disappearing from sight after the harrowed magpie into the trees.

  “Why were the Dryads chasing that magpie?” he asked, staring after it.

  “If they were chasing it, they had a good reason for it.” Alvey frowned, pondering this for a moment. “I do not know how a familiar of the Winter Court could have slipped into the realm, but it shall be taken care of shortly.”

  James followed Alvey through the narrow opening in the trees and into the field beyond. Sunlight in the cloudless sky cast the field in a golden hue, and insect-like faeries flew up from the tall grasses as they walked by, scattering in a musical, cicada-like hum. Nothing was ever still in the realm. Life was constantly flowing, rustling, whistling, and breathing all around them.

  After a bit of walking, the ground beneath them sloped upward. As usual, Alvey’s chair had no problem with the incline. They were at the foot of a hill a little over four hundred meters high, covered in gray rock and green grass and moss.

  “This is… this is incredible!” James flipped to a new page in his notebook and sat down on a boulder as Alvey parked her chair and leaned back. “Hey, Alvey, what kind of creature lives here? You mentioned that before, why the Dryads don’t come here.”

  Snickering behind her fingers, she said, “You have not noticed it yet? You are sitting upon it!”

  Jumping to his feet and biting back a yelp, James backed up and examined the rock he had been perched on. He stared for a long moment, not seeing anything. “Alvey, are you having a go at me?”

  “Fie!” The half elf swatted h
er hand through the air impatiently, then gestured to the hill before them. “Just look hard at the face of the hill, at the rocks and boulders. Squint if you must. You shall see it eventually.”

  The face of the hill? The… the face of the hill! Of course!

  The eyes were the first thing James noticed—they were natural crescent shapes forged in the hill with gray rock. Below the eyes, a large, sharp rock jutted out in a nose. Around the ridge of the mouth was a beard of moss dotted with flowers. It was a massive stone face in the hill.

  “It’s a troll, isn’t it?” he asked, winded with excitement.

  “Aye.” Alvey smiled. “’Tis a very old Seelie mountain troll. He only wakes from his slumber on rare occasions. The last time was to swat away pesky birds trying to nest in his teeth—hence why not even the owl faeries will come near now.”

  When James was finally able to glance away, when he was finally able to speak, like breaking out of a trance, he knelt in front of Alvey’s chair. She stiffened in her seat as he approached. “Alvey…,” he said. “This is… this is probably the greatest day of my life.”

  The half elf’s face turned pink. “’Tis nothing!”

  She waited a moment, holding her breath as if in anticipation, but James stood up quickly and said, “How long can we stay here? When the troll wakes up, what does he—?”

  There was a hooting sound in the distance, carried by a deliberate gust of wind pushing the opposite of the current around the hill. One of the owl faeries hopped about in the field where they had come from, refusing to come any closer, its feathers puffed out and eyes livid under furrowed feather brows.

  When the two went over to the owl faery, Alvey tilted her head toward James with a sigh. “It appears I have been summoned by Cardea for an audience with Queen Titania. She requests that I inform her of all I did on my journeys outside the realm.”

  James’s shoulders slumped. “Oh.”

  “You may stay here if you like, and I will return shortly,” Alvey said. “Then we can… continue our adventure. You will be quite safe here, and you can always call on one of the Dryads nearby if you need assistance.”