He wanted me to tap into the power, her power, and it was already there, surging up to take over. My vision blurred, and then the door gleamed green.
“It’s glowing … Some kind of green barrier.”
“A ward …” The Raven stood beside me. “You should break it.”
“What? How am I supposed to do that?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know, but you have it in you. Can you find it?”
Break a ward? I didn’t even know what a ward was. But my hand was coming up, and my palm was pressed to the thrumming wood, and then crimson leaked from my fingers and spread across the green, like vines, like the taint. But no, it wasn’t the taint, this was me. The green shriveled and retracted, and then the door was just a door.
“Well, well.” The Raven lifted the latch with a click.
The door opened with an ominous creek, reminding me of the scary stories Finn would sometimes weave to give me a thrill. Except every one of his stories would have a happy ending where the ghost, or beast, or monster would be transformed into a good person, a misunderstood person.
But life wasn’t like that. Not in this place. I gripped the Raven’s bicep. “Be careful.”
He paused and turned his head slightly so his jaw brushed my crown. “But I have you to protect me.”
I searched for the sarcasm in his tone but found only sincerity.
We stepped into the gloom beyond, and the wooden floorboards creaked beneath our boots. The door closed behind us with a click, and then the gloom bloomed with light, and as if a veil had been lifted, the tavern bled into color. Men and women and children filled the space, and their attention was firmly on us.
A plump female stepped forward, her eyes wide, her hands clasped before her. “What have you done? Oh, dear, what have you done?”
“Momma, Momma, will they come for us now?” a little girl sobbed, cradled in a woman’s arms.
“It’s Kira’s fault. She went out. I saw her,” a young boy said.
The girl we’d seen outside stumbled forward on a push. She shook her head. “I didn’t mean to. I was just … I needed air.”
“You don’t need air. You don’t need anything,” someone behind her sneered. “How many times we gots to tell you, you’re dead. We all are, and now … We’ll be nothing.”
The girl began to sob.
Dead? They were dead.
The Raven let out a sigh and then turned to me, his face a mask of contrition. “You need to put the wards back up now.”
“What? Me?”
“Can you do that?” the plump woman asked. “If you’re quick, we may still escape.”
Escape? What was she talking about?
“Please.”
“You broke it, you fix it,” someone else demanded.
I held up my hands and backed up. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Surely you must be able to put it back up. You built it in the first place.”
Someone began to sob.
And the plump woman’s lips pressed together in a thin line. “That ward was placed by the winter king himself, and it has lasted forever, but now you brought it down. You will fix it.”
The crowd began to advance, and then the world rumbled.
Someone let out a shriek, and then a crack ripped the air and light blinded me. Lightning? In the tavern? How was this possible? The Raven’s arms were around me, tugging me close, and then the beat of hooves against wood filled the room. The temperature dropped, and the air crackled.
The Raven held me tight, turning my head into his chest. “Don’t look. Close your eyes.”
“What is it? What’s here.”
“The Hunt. But the living must not see.”
I squeezed my eyes shut, ignoring the sound of whip lashes and the screams of the ghostly townsfolk.
“We have to get out of here,” the Raven said.
He tugged me backward, holding me firmly against him. We stumbled over a step, and then my boots were crunching in snow and cool air kissed my brow.
We were outside. We were safe. I raised my head to look up at the Raven, but his gaze was fixed on something over my head.
“It’s been a long time, Raven.”
I turned in his arms to see a woman, tall and powerful and wreathed in emerald smoke. Her eyes glowed, white orbs in her pale face, and her silver hair floated around her head as if teased by invisible butterflies.
“Are you here to finish what was started?” she asked.
“And if I am?” the Raven replied.
“Then I will be ready to collect your essence when you fall, for fall you shall. Fall they all do, and my Hunt will feast.”
Her gaze fell to me. “Mortal … Mortal with a hidden center …” She floated closer. “And what are you?”
“No!” The Raven pulled me back. “Stay away from her. Your dominion is over the dead. You will not lay claim to her.”
She smiled, and it was a cruel action. “Maybe not today, but soon.”
Her head whipped up, and something akin to fear rippled over her face. And then her smile twisted. “Or maybe you will be fodder for someone else, huh? Humans are a rarity in Faerie, and it looks as if this one has been found.” She took a step back toward the tavern. “Good luck, Raven. You and your mortal friend will need it.” Lightning flashed, and she was gone.
I stared at the spot where she’d just been, blinking away the dark spots that danced in my vision. “What just happened?”
He shook his head. “Something is coming. Something that can frighten the Lady of the Hunt, and as far as I am aware, there is only one thing in this realm that can instill fear in what is left of her heart.”
The howl of wolves was followed by the clatter of hooves.
The Raven grabbed my hand. “It must be a minion of Oblivion.” We broke into a run, but a dark shadow swept across the alley up ahead. We skidded and turned to go the other way, but a flash of white fur blocked that exit.
The Raven yanked me into an alcove, his face tense. I knew that look—it was the look of defeat. We were cornered, and whatever had found us would claim us. But there was a way. There was hope.
“Go!” I shoved the Raven.
“What?”
“If we both get caught, then we’re doomed, but if you get away, you can track me, you can save me.”
He shook his head slowly, but he was considering it, I could see it in his eyes. He knew it was the smart move, the only move.
I gripped his lapels and locked gazes with him. “Fly now, so you can save me later.”
His jaw clenched, and then he pressed a hard kiss to my lips. “I will come back for you.”
He slipped through my fingers in a flurry of feathers, and the clip of boots and the snarl of wolves closed in. I pulled my bone dagger from my belt.
Yes, he would come for me. But first I needed to survive. Gathering my wits, I stepped out of the alcove.
Chapter Ten
The white wolf was at least four feet tall. It blocked the alley with its bulk, and its snout crinkled in a snarl that reverberated across the cobbles toward me. Behind me, the snort of a horse and then the clip of hooves echoed down the narrow space. Turning my back on the wolf was not an option, and the bone dagger in my hand would much better serve me against the snarling beast than the horse at my back.
“He’ll rip out your throat before you can get in a slice,” a female voice said from behind me. “I’d put that down if I were you.”
“I think I’ll take my chances.” I kept the dagger raised and ready. “Unless you’d be willing to call him off?”
There was a surprised burst of laughter. “I may be so inclined if you would answer me one question.”
A question? “I’d need to hear the question first.”
The wolf took a step toward me, its body low to the ground as if preparing to pounce.
“Oh, dear, it seems that Lyrian is becoming antsy. We best be quick. Did you kill the silver wolves in the woods to the north?”
Oh, crud
. The desire to say no, to lie, was a palpable force, but the word stuck in my throat. “Yes, I did. They attacked me, and I defended myself.”
“With your … bone?” Her tone was a blend of amused and impressed.
“Yes, with my bone dagger.”
Lyrian the wolf’s body tensed, ready for attack, and my pulse leapt, ready to counter.
“Stop.” The word was uttered short and sharp, with no increase in volume, and yet the wolf froze on command. “Go find a rabbit or something to chew on, pet. This one is mine.”
The wolf’s silver eyes flashed. He snapped his jaws and then turned and ran off. Relief coursed through my body in a wave as I lowered my arm.
“Turn around, human. Turn so I may look upon your face.”
Straightening my spine, I turned to face the speaker. The woman was seated side-saddle atop a magnificent white horse. Her garments were cream and silver and her hair was almost as white as the snow, but it was her eyes that captivated me—so blue that they looked almost impossibly bright in her face, and cold, like chips of ice. Her lips, in contrast, were a startling crimson. Those eyes flared in what I would have called recognition, if we had been acquainted. But it was a quick flash, gone too soon to analyze, and then her lips parted in an empty smile to reveal sparkling white teeth and the tip of a pink tongue.
Gooseflesh broke out across my skin. Who was she? What was my subconscious picking up on? The Raven had said that the Lady of the Hunt was afraid only of the taint, but there was no evidence of the taint on this woman’s alabaster skin.
Her horse clipped closer. “So, pray tell me, human, where did you come from?” Her eyes glittered. “A spy from the summer court? A changeling they kept from me, no doubt?” She tapped her chin. “They thought your mortal shell would shield you from my scouts.” Her mouth twisted in annoyance. “How many more do they have?” Her eyes widened. “How many more are already hiding in my court?” Her eyes flicked from side to side, and her left eye twitched. “I must root them out. Find them and end them.”
A shadow circled above, but I didn’t look up, because I knew what it was—the Raven keeping watch. The stories I’d read as a child, the tales Finn had told me came to mind now. A changeling was usually the name reserved for a fey left in place of a human baby; was it also used to describe the human brought back to Faerie? The terminology didn’t matter, all that mattered was the fact that she thought I was a spy, and the look on her face promised pain.
“I’ll make an example of you.” Her tongue flicked out to moisten her lips. “No, maybe I’ll keep you hidden and torture you for personal sport. No, better yet, I’ll simply call a gathering and have you publicly executed to show the winter court that their queen will not tolerate traitorous, deceitful creatures.”
The winter queen? But what of the king? Was she his wife? I was so confused. My neck heated suddenly, and my hand went up instinctively to clutch at my throat.
Does it matter who she is if you die? Lie. Use your mortal tongue. Tell her a tale that she may believe, and then watch and learn and gather the information you require. Speak vaguely and allow her to fill in the rest.
That voice again, the same one that had chastised me in the icy water. Berstuk. Even as my mind balked at his intrusion it also latched on to his advice.
Snarls lit up the alley behind me. The wolves were back.
I held up my hands in supplication. “I’m no spy, I swear it. I was a prisoner of the … of the summer court, and I … I ran away. I escaped, and I found myself in your lands. They were cruel to me, mocking my mortality, and I … I simply wanted to be free of them.”
She studied me through narrowed eyes. “You killed my silver wolves.”
I shook my head. “I was afraid, and in a frenzy to survive, I struck them down. I don’t know how I did it. I suspect my vigorous defense took them by surprise.”
She pouted. “Yes, the survival instinct is strong in mortals. It is why humanity, despite its fragility, has persisted for so long.” She looked down her nose at me, studying me with her chilling blue eyes, and then her gaze misted. “There is nothing as cruel as the subtle edge of mockery. It can burrow under one’s skin until it finds the very heart of you.” Her voice was softer now, as if she was lost in a memory. But then she exhaled sharply, and her features hardened. “The summer court are frolicking fools who do not deserve the wonder of mortal company.” Her ruby-red lips curved slightly. “But you will find a home at my court as my personal human. You will pay for the lives of my wolves with your servitude.”
With a nudge of her heels, she urged her horse closer and then leaned down to offer me her hand. “Come and I will show you the true wonder of Faerie.”
There was nothing to do but take her hand, and as she pulled me easily up onto the horse before her, the caw of a raven drifted on the wind.
Ice kissed my cheeks and raked its fingers through my hair as we galloped over the snow and sailed across the land, leaving the village and its dead behind. The wolves streaked ahead, keeping pace easily. Her grip on me was tight and unrelenting, and I squeezed my eyes shut and tucked in my chin, unable to bear the ache of the cold on my eyeballs.
The cold burrowed through my cloak and licked at my flesh. How much longer would we ride? My bones ached with the chill. Where was the Raven? Was he above us? Was he keeping track?
“You’re trembling.” Her breath was ice whispering across the side of my face.
“C-cold.”
She sighed. “Mortal flesh. Of course you are.”
Something warm settled on me, materialized as if by magic. Fur brushed my cheeks, blocking out the elements.
“Better?”
“Yes.”
And it was better. The furs shielded me from the angry breeze, and her arms held me securely as we rode hard over the icy land, and then a shadow bloomed up ahead, rising out of the winter wasteland like a sleeping monolith—black and gray sweeping towers and blocky buildings with terrible jagged points were locked behind a wall made of ice.
The structure grew, looming over us and casting us in gloom as we got closer and closer. But the gates were closed, and we were going too fast, and the winter queen wasn’t slowing her pace.
A squeal rose up my throat, but then the massive gates were swinging open and we were through. Buildings rushed by, and fey stumbled out of our way as we galloped through a market and onto a wide, frosted road that rose on an incline. At the peak stood a castle, black and forbidding and hewn from granite.
“Welcome to your new home,” she whispered in my ear. “Welcome to the winter court.”
Chapter Eleven
A wide moat ringed the castle, and we cantered across the bridge, which was the only access to the yawning castle entrance. Guards rushed out to meet us as we slowed to a stop but jumped back as the wolves snapped at them.
“Peace, Lyrian, Macha,” the queen ordered.
The wolves skulked back and then turned and ran off across the flagstones. The guards approached, but the queen waved them away.
“I can manage fine,” she said coolly.
She leapt off the horse and then held out her arms to me. I grasped her shoulders, and she swung me down off the huge beast.
“Come.” She strode across the courtyard toward an archway which led into a tower.
Her stride was long, and I was forced to jog to keep up. Up a flight of stairs and then onto a plush marble corridor hung with black and red velvet drapes. There wasn’t a soul about, and the only sound was the clip of her heels on the ground.
She led me up another set of steps, these ones made of stone, and pushed open a wooden door.
“This will be your room. I will send someone to tend to you shortly.” She stepped back to allow me to enter.
It was a circular tower room with a bed, a wardrobe, and a fireplace.
“Do not leave this room. It isn’t safe for you to roam the halls. Not until I’ve formally introduced you to my court. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“Bolt the door,” she instructed, and then slammed it shut behind her.
I was alone.
In the winter court.
I sagged onto the bed and ran a hand over my face. How long before I had the chance to meet the king? Hopefully his sanity would be more in check than the queen’s.
There were two windows, both open to let in the icy breeze, but if the Raven was going to find me I needed to give him a sign. My cloak? Shrugging off the furs, I stripped off my cloak and hurried to the nearest window. My skin was still warm from the furs, so the chill didn’t register as I hooked the cloak to the shutter latch and allowed it to dangle over the sill. Hopefully, he’d see it and come to investigate.
Hopefully.
A shiver ran up my arms as the heat seeped out of me. I gathered the furs around me again, and hurried to close the second window. Now to build a fire.
Five minutes later the hearth was crackling with embers, and there was a knock on the door.
My pulse kicked up. “Who is it?”
“The queen has sent me to tend to you.”
I opened the door to thin air, and then yelped as something brushed my thigh. A woman no taller than my hip entered the room carrying a basket. Her hair was pulled up in a knot at the top of her head, and she was dressed in pants and a tunic. An apron with many pockets was tied to her waist.
“Well, what do we have here?” She looked me over and sniffed. “The queen does enjoy her pets. A mortal. Who would have thought. Been a long time since I saw one of your kind in these parts.” She placed the basket on the table by the shuttered window and glanced at the hearth. “At least you’re not completely useless. You can build a fire. Although if Her Majesty had put you in the new part of the castle then you wouldn’t have had to. Honestly, I have no idea why she persists in using the east wing, it’s positively primeval.” She turned to me, hands on hips. “I brought you some pastries, meat, and wine. Eat up. I’ll be back later with hot water for you to wash.” She shook her head once again. “Each room in the west wing has its own bathroom. Honestly. Let’s hope Her Majesty moves you once you’ve had your introduction to the court this evening.” She hustled toward the door. “If I’m to tend to you on a regular basis, I much prefer the use of magicka than this primitive setup.”
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