“I think it will help him,” I said to Jax.
He shook his head. “You know it won’t. You’re a healer. You’ve seen what happens when a child eats one.”
I had. Instant vomiting. The berry ate away at the insides until there was nothing left. Until they died. “I have a theory.”
Jax shook his head. “Now is not the time for theories.”
“Perhaps it’s exactly the right time,” I breathed, pulling another berry from my pocket. I pressed it between my fingers the way Mother had all those years ago, squeezing until it shed its skin. I held the skin up to Jax. “I think this is the poisonous part. And this—” I lifted my other hand. “—is the part that will help him. I saw Mother use it once. I’m sure she used it on a fae.”
Jax shook his head, resolute.
“He will die anyway, right?”
Jax wouldn’t meet my eyes.
“Isn’t it worth a try?” Stars, I hoped I was right, because no matter what I said, nothing was worth the horrific death that would come from nightbalm poisoning. But, I reminded myself, this was more than a hunch. I was almost certain it would work. If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t be trying it. “Shouldn’t we do everything we can to save him?”
Jax crossed the chamber and opened a window, stopping to inhale the ocean scent. His shoulders drooped. “Okay. You can do it.” He kept his back to me.
I drew in my breath, unsure if I was pleased or disappointed by his reaction. If this didn’t work, it was all on me. “I can do this alone. If you prefer.”
He turned to stare at Fergus. “I’d like to stay.”
I wanted him to stay. I didn’t want to kill Fergus, and I certainly didn’t want to be in here alone when I did it. But I said, “It might not be pleasant.”
He nodded. “I know.”
I took the last berry from my pocket and squeezed it to reveal its center. Taking a deep breath, I placed a drop of juice on his lips, then took his hand and waited.
Nothing happened. A sheen of sweat remained on Fergus’ skin.
I glanced at Jax.
“Did you even give him any?” He took an uncertain step forward.
With one hand still in Fergus’, I peeled the towel from his back, leaning closer to stare at his wounds. “Is it my imagination, or do those wounds seem less angry?”
Jax moved toward his friend and both of us stared at Fergus’ back. “Better. I think.”
I thought so, too. But perhaps it was wishful thinking.
Fergus squeezed my hand, his lips moving. I bent to hear what he said.
“You tried to kill me,” he whispered.
I shook my head. “I … thought it would work. I mean … I was almost certain.” I glanced at Jax. Was I in trouble?
“You broke … my windows.”
I let out my breath and touched his shoulders and back with my fingertips. His fever was gone. I looked at Jax. “It’s working.” To Fergus, I said, “They were dirty. Now you have a nice clean set of windows.” I peeled the compress from his head.
His lips turned up into a weak smile and his eyes fluttered shut. There was no more groaning. “He will be fine,” I whispered to Jax.
Jax wrapped me in a hug and lifted me off my feet with a whoop. “He will be fine!”
FIFTEEN
“I owe you an apology.”
I jumped at the sound of Fergus’ voice. It had only been a few hours since he’d taken the nightbalm, but his recovery had been fast. Within the hour, the weeping wounds on his back healed, but he’d spent that time, and then some, sleeping. Jax said he needed to sleep to recover his magic. I’d left about then, giving them both some time alone. In the time since, I’d bathed and changed into a knee-length summer dress with thin straps I’d found in the cupboard in my room, and had seated myself on the steps that led down to the beach. I watched the waves roll in, enjoying my last few hours on the island. Tomorrow I was leaving. I hadn’t told Fergus yet, but I hoped he’d allow me to take Raven to Unseelie to rescue Mother.
In the time since I’d last seen him, Fergus had also bathed and changed into a pair of shorts and a navy blue shirt. He still looked tired, but a lot better than when I’d seen him last.
I shuffled over for him to sit on the step, keeping my hands cupped in my lap. I had taken little notice of them while I worked on Fergus, but there wasn’t a place on my palms that wasn’t cut or burnt. In some places, whole chunks of skin were missing. “What for?”
He crouched in front of me and took my hands, cupping them between his. I winced at the pressure. Now that I wasn’t working on adrenalin, it appeared the slightest touch lit fire beneath my skin.
“For not doing this sooner.” As Fergus spoke, the fire in my hands dimmed and disappeared, and I had no doubt that when I next looked, the wounds would be like the ones on Fergus’ back, just placid red scars.
With the pain gone, I was suddenly aware of how close we were. Our knees touched and our hands were between our chests. I couldn’t meet his eyes. “You were … busy.” He’d been in no state to heal anyone.
“I had this dream,” he leaned forward as he spoke, his voice soft. “I dreamed that someone blew in all my windows, trying to stab me with the glass. Then they tried to poison me with nightbalm. I wonder why I dreamed such things.”
He was too close. I shook my head. “No idea. Overactive imagination, perhaps?” I filled my voice with mock innocence.
“Could be. It just seemed so real.” He grinned and released my hands. “They should feel better now.”
I glanced down to find them healed, as I expected. “They do. Thank you.”
“No. Thank you. Jax would be planning my funeral rite were it not for you.”
So, Jax had told him what happened. I lifted one shoulder. “I’d have done the same for anyone.”
Fergus’ eyebrows rose.
“Minus the glass explosion of course.” I looked at my hands to hide my smile. “That’s what I do … did. I was a healer in Iadrun, and I was good at it. I always thought it would be the only thing I ever did.” I didn’t know if I’d get the chance to be a healer again. It would depend on whether I could rescue Mother. And whether this princess thing came with added responsibilities.
Fergus lifted his hands. “You need not sell it to me. I know firsthand how good you are at your work.”
I blew out a laugh. “You have to say that.”
He shook his head and turned down his lips, eyes dancing. He placed his hand on his chest. “Prince, remember. I’m sure the job description confirms I don’t have to say or do anything I don’t want to. Which reminds me. I came out here to apologize.” He indicated to the beach. “Can we walk? After so long away, I need to bury my toes in the sand.”
I nodded, and he stood, held out a hand and pulled me to my feet.
The evening was hot, and I’d long since removed my shoes. Apart from the last time I was here, I’d never been on a beach. Last time, there was no chance to enjoy it. The sand beneath my feet felt glorious, rough and smooth at the same time. It was still warm from the heat of the day, and it moved and molded beneath the soles of my feet.
Fergus watched the ground as he spoke. “What you did with the nightbalm, there are only a few who can access the sort of magic required to do that. And even then, they can only—”
I shook my head. He had it all wrong. “It wasn’t magic. I healed you with human medicine.” I would never use magic on him—or anyone. Not after almost killing him.
“There is no human on earth who could access the part of the nightbalm berry that can heal fae. Only someone with powerful magic can do it. Royal magic. I’ve only ever seen it done once.” He smiled. “But I’m glad you knew how to do it.”
I shook my head, though it was becoming harder to deny. “It wasn’t magic.” My voice was small. “I tried to use my magic, and the result was a hole in your bedroom wall and almost a new scar for Jax.” My mind was working. I’d only seen i
t done one other time. Close to the Crossing. By the woman everyone thought should be the Seelie Queen. My mother.
Fergus tried not to smile. And failed. “Yes, well, it would seem that the rest of your magic may not be as … honed. But you can fix that with practice.”
I shook my head, everything that had happened these past few weeks catching up with me. “I don’t want to fix it. I don’t want magic. I just want to go to Unseelie, rescue Mother, and get as far from this place as possible.” I glanced at Fergus as I heard how that sounded. “No offence.”
He shook his head. “None taken.”
We wandered with slow steps along the beach, my thoughts sticking on Mother. “I have to rescue her.”
Fergus nodded. “I know. But I need to tell you something first.”
“Okay.” Whatever he was about to say, I was suddenly certain it was the reason for the beach walk.
“I remembered some things while the nightbalm was in my body, things I hadn’t thought of for years. Like the day I came to your cottage … before.” He glanced my way.
“The day that was blocked in your memory?” The day Father died.
His mansion was far behind us and the few beach cottages on this side of his home were spaced well apart. Between them, a long field sloped up to the bottom of the large hill behind Fergus’ home. Horses—so many horses—grazed on brilliant green grass at the back of the field. Raven was there. So was Obsidian.
Fergus indicated with his hand and we walked up to a grassy knoll where the beach met the field, where a bench seat was angled perfectly to take in both the grazing horses and the beach. He waited until I sat, then sat beside me. “This view is the best on the island at this time of night.”
I couldn’t deny it. The sky was turning shades of magenta and orange, reflecting on the water, which was just beginning to sparkle. I couldn’t focus on the view. I wanted to hear what he’d recalled to make his face so grim. “So what did you remember? And who did it?”
“Father did it, though I’m still not sure why.” He ran a hand down his face. “That day, the first day I came to your cottage, it was my first job with the Wild Hunt. We were to bring in a man, alive or dead, Father didn’t care.” He licked his lips. “The man was Myles Ridgewing. Also known as Myles Tremaine. And he was the husband of the dead Seelie Queen.”
“Father,” I whispered.
He nodded. “The night we first met—the night I hurt your mother—I felt this … pull toward your cottage. I wish I could have ignored it, especially knowing the things I now know about you. Had I, you would not be in the position you now find yourself. But I couldn’t stop myself from entering your cottage, especially after I caught sight of you running up the path toward it.” He shook his head. “When we went back there together, Aoife told me she knew my secret. No one outside the Wild Hunt knew my secret, apart from you, and you’d had no chance to tell her.”
“I promised to keep it, and I meant it.” I still would. There was nothing in the world that would convince me to part with it.
“I know you did.” He met my eyes with a small smile. “Your mother’s words were laced with magic—a spell. It’s been eating at me since, allowing me to recall the smallest details but nothing of substance. Mixed with the nightbalm magic though, all my memories came back. I remembered your cottage. I remembered why I’d gone there all those years ago. For almost seventeen years, everyone in Faery thought you and Aoife dead. Everyone, it seems, except Father. Had we found you and Aoife that night, we had different instructions on how to deal with you. Different to how we handled your father.”
“What instructions?” My hands were shaking. Just talking about that night took me right back there. Mother and I had been so close to being found.
“The two of you were to return to Unseelie. Alive.”
“Why? What does he want with us?” My voice sounded small. I didn’t understand why the Unseelie King would hunt us this way. We were from the Seelie Court, enemies of the king, sure, but was that good enough reason for him to hunt us down?
Fergus shook his head. “I don’t know. Never knew. I only know you need to be careful around him.”
I was sure of that, too, but it didn’t help. None of this told me what was going on or how I could save Mother. I got to my feet, tired of sitting still, and headed down to the water’s edge. Fergus followed without speaking.
We wandered on in silence, the last of the sun on my back and the water warm at my feet. My thoughts shifted to Rhiannon. My aunt. Mother’s sister. A woman who loved the power her title brought. A title that shouldn’t belong to her. “Why didn’t Rhiannon use magic suppressors on me?” Had she, I’d still be in Seelie.
Fergus took in my profile for a long moment before answering. “She didn’t think she needed to. You didn’t have magic when you two met, though I believe she thought you had weak magic. You were no threat to her. And her love of theatrics meant she preferred to make an example of you and publicly execute you rather than doing it behind closed doors. I imagine that’s where you were headed had you not brought the prison down around her.” He kicked through a wave that rode up over our feet. “You must have been very young when you left Faery. Definitely under five. Probably much younger.”
I cast him a sidelong glance. The setting sun lit up half his face, momentarily removing the tension and exhaustion. “I guess so. Otherwise, surely I’d remember something about this place.”
He shrugged. “There are spells that can stop that happening, but you’re not spelled.” I waited for him to expand on his statement. Instead, he spoke of something completely different. “Do you know all fae children are born without magic?”
That was something I’d never heard before. No magic made fae children vulnerable.
As if he read my thoughts, he said, “They’re also assigned guards—four for each child—who stay with them every moment until their magic comes in.”
“That’s a lot of guards.”
He shook his head, his eyes darkening with sadness. “Not really. There are very few children born in Faery. I guess it balances out our immortality. Those rare children are treasured.”
“By assigning guards to them?” Didn’t seem like a very loving environment to grow up in.
“They only have guards until their magic comes through. It usually happens just before their fifth birthday. Unless you’re royal, then it comes earlier, usually by the time a child is one. Most often, it comes in gently; soft and serene. One day a child has no magic, the next their guards are replaced by magic tutors because they have new talents.”
I knew why he was telling me this. “That’s what happened to me in the prison. My magic came through.” But it hadn’t come soft or serene.
He nodded. “I imagine if Rhiannon knew you’d never received your magic, rather than assuming it was weak and restrained by your time in Iadrun, she’d never have left you unsuppressed. It’s unheard of for a fae to have no magic until they’re … how old are you, sixteen?”
I nodded, feeling like a failure. I was at least twelve years late receiving my magic. Longer if I really was a princess.
He gave my shoulder a nudge. “Don’t feel bad. We’d still be in Seelie if your magic hadn’t made an appearance when it did.”
That made me feel even worse. “My body is doing things I can’t control. Guards are dead because of me. I almost killed Jax. I don’t want to go around killing people because I don’t know how any of this works.”
“Then it’s your lucky day. I happen to be an expert in all things magic.” He laced his fingers together, pushing his hands out in front of him. His eyes danced and I could feel him trying to make me smile.
“Good thing you owe me a favor.”
His eyebrows rose. “I do?”
“I’d say so.” I nodded. “For saving your life.”
He smiled. “Of course. How could I forget? We’ll start your lessons tomorrow.”
I tried to
smile back, but I couldn’t. Twice now, bad things had happened when I tried to use magic. I wasn’t sure I wanted to risk a third time.
As if he could read my mind, he said, “You used your magic perfectly when you knew what you were doing with the nightbalm. And you won’t get a surge of magic like that again. It only happens when there’s an abundance.”
I nodded, understanding why he’d told me all this. “Which I had because I left Faery before it came through.”
He nodded. “For you, yes. For others, for people that have a lot of magic, that build up can happen if they don’t use their magic often enough.”
“You’ve seen it happen before?” There was something in his tone that told me I was right, and that the last time had been traumatic.
“I have. That story doesn’t have such a happy ending as yours.” The words sounded like he meant it as a joke, but his tone was heavy.
I turned to face him, something about those words and the bleakness on his face telling me who he was talking about. “It happened to you. Did you kill someone?” My cheeks reddened. He was the fae leader of the Wild Hunt—something I seemed to have forgotten since coming to Faery—as if killing someone would bother him. To hide my embarrassment at my stupid question, I asked another. “Or does killing not matter to you?” I bit down on my tongue as soon as the words escaped my lips. And bit down harder when I saw the flash of pain cross his face.
Immediately his eyes hardened. With nostrils flaring and pressed lips, he turned away and started up the beach. He didn’t even deign to answer my cruel comment.
“Fergus. Wait! I’m sorry.”
His face was so hard when he turned back that he didn’t even look like the person I knew. “Don’t be. And don’t worry. It’s not you I’m angry at, it’s me.” He marched up the beach toward his home, his hands squeezed into tight balls.
I watched him go, the look on his face before his eyes hardened etched into my mind. I hadn’t just hurt him with my comments, I’d disappointed him, too. My question was brutal, asked to cover my embarrassment. I wanted to go after him. I should go after him. But that brief conversation had reminded me of something I’d been avoiding.
Kingdom of Yesterday's Lies (Royals of Faery Book 1) Page 19
