by Robin Trent
Elizabeth sat down on the window seat and stared out into the yard. She hadn't just dismissed the doctor from the room; she had dismissed him from her mind as well. Dr. Barrett shook his head as he packed his bag. He left a vile of laudanum on the dresser. "If you need to take something for your nerves, Mrs. Merkova, a teaspoon of this in a glass of water should do it." Then Dr. Barrett left Elizabeth to go seek out Nikolai.
Queen Oonagh was dressed in her royal robes. She wore them as vestments of protection as if they would shield her from whatever had brought Rhys Bryhana to her court. She entered the room regally, with her head held high, and she looked down her nose at Rhys. As she seated herself on the interim throne, she pounded her scepter on the ground, and it rang throughout the room. She had always known that someday Rhys would come to her seeking answers. However, she was not so prepared to give wholly the answers he sought.
For Queen Oonagh, Rhys Bryhana was a wild card. She was never sure exactly what he would do. And yet, she had taken so much from him in her quest to end the conflict. She didn't feel that she owed him, per se, but an audience was the least she could do. "Speak, Rhys Bryhana," she commanded.
Rhys wasn't in the mood for court pleasantries, but he knew he needed to follow protocol if he was to get any answers. So he bowed low. "Your Majesty." The salutation tasted bitter in his mouth. Standing back up, Rhys leveled his gaze upon the queen. "I have much to ask you, Queen Oonagh." Rhys studied the queen for her reaction. Her head swiveled to rest her gaze upon him. "First of all, I would like some answers concerning my wife's death. And then, I would like to know about my son. You see, I know you were there and that you could have prevented my wife's death, but chose not to. And I know my son lived. For this, I would have my answers, Oonagh," Rhys omitted the word queen to show his disdain.
Queen Oonagh rose from the dais as if struck. "You dare to question me?" She used her vantage point to tower over him. "Over a human death?"
Rhys was not impressed. He knew the tricks royalty used to dissuade being questioned. "My wife's death, Your Majesty. Since you are the only one who was there and had the power to stop it, yes, I do question you."
"We are not obliged to answer you. But I will settle this." Oonagh did not like being commanded. "We are royalty, and we do what we must do to protect our people." She seethed anger. "What did you think would happen when you became involved with a human, Rhys? Did you think it was going to end happily ever after?" Oonagh didn't sound mocking so much as that she was stating the obvious. "There's a reason for the edict. It is because of situations such as this. And you chose to disobey it--no intermarriage between species. You knew the risks when you took her as your wife. And I could not make an exception to the rules just for you, so I did not lend assistance in the matter."
"She was my wife! She was a warrior who fought in your campaigns for you against her own kind!" Rhys cried out in anguish. And then he lowered his voice to a whisper that still echoed in the chamber. "You could have shown her some compassion. You could have spared her life."
"Humans live such incredibly short lives. She would have died eventually anyway, and you would have been alone," Oonagh said.
Rhys could not believe how calculating and cold Oonagh was being. "I see," he said. He stared at Oonagh and saw ugliness there. He actually felt disgusted at his own kind. "And all this time, I have wreaked havoc on mankind in retribution for my wife's death, when really it was you I should have blamed."
A noise sounded from the corner of the room as Halflar stepped forward.
"Blame yourself for getting involved with her in the first place. If that is all you have to say, Rhys, then this audience is over."
"My son. What about my son?"
"That was a kindness I bestowed because the child was an innocent." Queen Oonagh stared straight ahead avoiding eye contact.
"You don't consider humans to be innocent. Why did you spare my son's life?"
"I have answered your questions Rhys. This audience is finished." The queen rose from her throne and pounded her scepter.
It couldn't happen here, but it would happen. Eventually, Rhys would make sure that Queen Oonagh died by his own hand. He swore that to himself, for his wife's sake. He bowed to Queen Oonagh and turned his back on her immediately and walked out.
The doctor left Elizabeth's room and headed to the library to talk with Nikolai. He did not want to tell this man to commit his wife. But given Elizabeth's state of mind, he feared she might harm her children. He opened the door to the library and was greeted by the sight of Nikolai hunched over in a chair with his head between his hands. Nikki's head snapped up when he realized he wasn't alone, and the doctor saw a brief hint of hope cross Nikolai's face until he looked into the doctor's eyes. That was when Nikki's face fell. He looked haggard, stressed, with dark circles under his eyes and a day's growth of beard. His collar was undone, coat slung over the back of a chair, and his hair was severely mussed. The doctor could only imagine the worry Nikolai must be feeling.
"Dr. Barrett, how is my wife?"
"Nikolai, this isn't going to be easy. I know how much you love your wife. But she is tortured by these fantasies and it is affecting her health. Hell man, it is affecting your health! Look at you!"
"This isn't about me, Doctor! Tell me what I should do for my wife. I want her to be well again." Nikolai had a look of desperation on his face.
"Nikolai, this is beyond my knowledge of medicine. In London, there are sanatoriums that exist just to deal with these sorts of issues..." The doctor's voice trailed off as he took a long hard look at Nikki.
"My wife? In one of those hell-holes? You've got to be kidding! Anything but that." Nikolai shook his head furiously.
"If you won't take my advice, then the most I can do is give her some laudanum to calm her nerves, which I have already done. But you can't have a young wife who just spends her time sleeping her life away. If she goes to London, she'll at least have some sort of chance of overcoming this affliction. If she stays here, I am not sure your wife will get well." Dr. Barrett stared out the window. He kept wracking his brain on how to help this woman, but insanity wasn't his forte. He just didn't see any other way. He walked over and placed his hand on Nikolai's shoulder.
"Think about it. I realize this is a lot to deal with, and I know you'll need some time to think it over. But you have to seriously consider it, Nikolai. I will see myself out. I'll be back in a few days, and you can give me your answer." The doctor went into the foyer and retrieved his coat from the rack.
Stepping out into the still evening air, he closed the door behind him with the same care one would show when someone had died. That was how it felt, like Elizabeth had died. That bright, brilliant, vivacious young woman was now someone else. She was someone who raved about faeries and changelings and spirits in the house, someone who refused to feed or take care of her own child. This was all lunacy. London was the best possible answer; there could be no other.
Elizabeth quietly made her way to the guest room. It sat above the study, and there was a grate in the floor that let the warm air from the fireplace rise to add extra heat to the second floor. She sat there and listened to the conversation between her husband and Dr. Barrett, a sinking feeling developing in the pit of her stomach as her worst fears were confirmed. She knew the doctor didn't believe her, but it appeared neither did Nikolai.
She had tried confiding in her husband all that she knew, and this was her reward. He thought her insane. She had wanted him to believe her. There may have been a part of him that had tried. But of course, no one could see what Elizabeth could see. No one else saw the abduction. No one else saw the changeling in the crib. Elizabeth should have known. Now time was running out. The doctor wanted her committed and had given Nikolai a few days to consider it.
Elizabeth had always known that there was something else to this world besides what a person could see with the naked eye. It was nothing that could be pinpointed directly by her, at least it hadn't been unti
l the otherworld spilled into her own. Now she knew for certain that there were faery beings and an otherworld that existed side by side with the human world. The secret faery book she had recently read had tales of it. Oh, to most people they were just stories, but Elizabeth knew they were real. She wasn't sure how much was fact and how much was fiction, but most myths and fantastical tales had some grain of truth to them surely.
And yet, when she had asked Nikolai about the journal in the attic, he didn't know what she was talking about. Elizabeth had assumed he would have heard about the myths. The book had put all the pieces together for her. It had allowed her to realize that she wasn't crazy, and it let her know what she needed to know about the changeling. Nikolai only thought the book had made her crazy and that it had caused some kind of brain fever. Did he really believe that she was so incapable of separating fantasy from reality? Of course he did. Why else would he consider committing her?
However it happened, she knew she had one limited chance of getting her baby back. From the stories she had read, she knew what she had to do. If she didn't do something, she would spend the rest of her life mourning a child she would never see again. If they sent her away, the changeling would continue to deteriorate, eventually dying, and people would say it was her fault and isn't that sad. And then by the time she got back, all would be lost forever. No, this was not going to end this way. If she could at least retrieve her child, she could spend whatever time they wanted her to spend in the sanatorium, knowing her baby was back home, safe and sound.
31
It was evening, and the last dying rays of the sun cast long shadows across the lawn. Titwell watched the sunset from his own perch, up in the attic. He smoked his pipe and admired the beauty of nature. He hadn't had a real peaceful start to his time in the Merkova household, but things had finally started to slow down. Helen was gone, and Elizabeth seemed to improve almost immediately.
The wards that Rhys had set up around the house had proven very useful, and now there were no more nighttime visitations. For his own part, Titwell had kept Elizabeth and the child, Ophelia, as protected as he could, and they didn't seem any worse for wear. True, Elizabeth's own dealings with the Sidhe had left her haggard and in serious need of rest. But with the nightmare gone, she was sleeping peacefully now.
The sun had finally set, and twilight had arrived. The grey air and silence of that in-between time smelled of magic and potential. Titwell felt a twinge as if his own internal sensors were going off. He peered out into the yard to see a ghost, a vision in white glide toward the tree line. This ghost had blond hair the color of wheat when it's ready to harvest, very similar in color to Queen Oonagh. Was the queen outside? Is that what he was seeing? No, the person was coming from the house. Elizabeth. What was she doing going to the forest at this time of the evening?
Titwell scrambled out of his chair and entered the nursery first. He had an inkling of what Elizabeth might be up to, but he wanted to check. Ophelia was still in the bassinet, sleeping peacefully, but the changeling was gone. Titwell was down the stairs and out the door in an eye blink. He needed to stop Elizabeth. What she was doing was dangerous. Extremely dangerous. He headed toward the woods as fast as his short legs could carry him. He was so focused on trying to stop Elizabeth that he didn't see or hear his attacker until it was too late. Darkness enveloped him as Titwell hit the ground.
Groz sat on top of the now unconscious Titwell, grinning from ear to ear. "No wards to help you now, laddy, eh? Stupid brownie."
Elizabeth had waited until everyone in the house was asleep. She knew what she must do, and she didn't want anyone stopping her. She didn't bother changing her clothes or donning boots. She had no time for that. She crept into the nursery, being careful to not make a sound, walked over to Ophelia, and bent to kiss her babe on the cheek. She stroked her child's soft downy hair and whispered, "I'm going to get your sister back. Sweet dreams, my love."
At the crib where the changeling lay, Elizabeth gazed upon the visage of an old, shriveled looking gnome with beady black eyes that twinkled in the moonlight. The changeling grinned lopsidedly and then parted its lips to show tiny rows of sharp pointed teeth. Elizabeth shuddered. She didn't want to endure touching it, but for her daughter's sake, she would do anything.
Elizabeth wrapped the changeling in a blanket and left the nursery. When she reached the front door, the changeling must have sensed what she was going to do for it started to cry again. She wrapped the blanket tighter around the changeling's head and pressed it close to her chest to muffle its screams. She couldn't take the crying anymore. She couldn't take the sounds of her baby in her head. Elizabeth wanted it all to stop. She had heard the legends as all English children had, that sometimes if you leave the changeling out in the woods, the faeries will return the real child. She always thought they were just stories, not a nightmare she would end up living.
Outside Elizabeth walked through the chilly night air to the woods. She didn't care that it was dark; she didn't care about wild animals. She only wanted her baby back. Numbness had set in with a sense of hopelessness. She wasn't mad, she knew she wasn't. She walked a ways in, and she could swear she heard whispering in the forest, or was that the wind? The leafless trees were skeletal silhouettes that clawed at the October sky, and the moon was bright enough to dapple the forest floor with spots of soft light here and there. She used this light to continue, wanting to move far enough into the forest that the fae would come.
For a moment, Elizabeth questioned the wisdom of what she was doing, but the knowledge that her husband and the doctor may send her off to another asylum pushed her on. She would not be locked away with no chance of ever recovering Euphemia. It was now or never. The changeling squirmed in her arms, trying to break free, and Elizabeth tightened her grip. "Hey, I can't breathe," the changeling complained.
"I am not releasing you. Complain, all you want. I want my child," Elizabeth said.
"You must if you are willing to risk a run-in with the Wild Hunt," said the changeling.
Elizabeth stopped and looked down at the changeling in her arms. The beastie looked a little too sly for her liking. "Wild Hunt, is it? Out on All Hallow's Eve, roaming the land, gathering up souls? Stories used to frighten children. I'll have none of it. Now shut up. We are going to exchange you for my daughter, and your faery tales are not going to stop me." She paused for a moment catching herself. The irony of what she just said wasn't lost on Elizabeth, trapped in her own faery tale as it were. The changeling laughed.
A cold wind snatched at her robes, and Elizabeth could see her breath as she hastened through the woods. Branches scratched her face and arms, but she did not stop. She could feel every twig, every stone through her daintily slippered feet, and still, she moved forward. Elizabeth was silently berating herself for being so compulsive and not thinking things through. She never stopped to think about necessities like appropriate clothing. Well, hopefully this will be over with quickly, and she can go back home with her child safely in her arms.
A large oak tree grew right in the path Elizabeth was taking, and she paused to lean up against it as she surveyed her surroundings, looking for a good spot to lay the changeling. Was this far enough into the forest? Would the Sidhe come? Elizabeth didn't have long to wait for her answer. She heard twigs snapping, and the rustle of leaves that signaled someone or something was approaching. Electricity tingled up her spine, and all she could hear was the beating of her own heart and the rushing of blood in her ears. Elizabeth started drawing short gasps of breath and felt the weakness in her legs as she trembled. She loosened her grip on the struggling changeling, and it jumped down to the ground, cackling at her fear. The changeling stood up and dusted leaves from its coat. "You're a fool, Elizabeth Merkova. You should have left well enough alone." The changeling touched the tree with its small childish hands, and the world spun and shifted.
Elizabeth opened her eyes when the spinning stopped, but continued to grip the tree from behind her to k
eep from falling. She felt like she was going to vomit. So much for being the heroine in her own story. She could barely stand up straight. She looked down for the changeling, but could not see it. In the distance, she heard its cackling laugh as it ran away. This was not working out the way she had planned. Elizabeth tried to get her bearings and stared at the unfamiliar landscape. It looked like the woods behind her house, and then again, it didn't. Something was off.
A low growl from behind her alerted Elizabeth to the presence of an animal. She heard the leaves rustle and saw many pairs of golden eyes gleam in the moonlight ahead of her. She was surrounded. Hot breath grazed her hands as they still gripped the tree. Elizabeth was frozen to the spot, unable to move, and she watched helplessly as the wolf circled, stopping in front of her. The wolf sniffed her nightgown, its warm breath making plumes of smoke in the cold night air. She closed her eyes, waiting for the bite as she stood against the tree hopelessly immobilized by fear. The wolf took several steps back and sat down. It stared at her.
Elizabeth waited. She waited so long she was beginning to lose patience. What was this wolf doing just staring at her? Wasn't it going to attack or something? Elizabeth decided to take her chances and moved, scooting her right foot out from the tree and transferring her weight to that foot. The wolf growled and bared its teeth. Elizabeth moved her foot back to its previous position and went back to leaning up against the tree. The wolf sat still and continued to stare. Elizabeth was wondering how long this was going to go on when she heard the sounds of someone approaching in the distance. It sounded like many people.
