The Oaken Throne

by Sara C. Roethle

  “We’ll speak later,” Anna whispered as Iseult reached the landing and turned toward them.

  Anna hurried off before Finn could reply.

  To camouflage her worries, she forced a smile at Iseult, the most wildly confusing man she’d ever met. “If you’re here to demand I confront Oighear, you can save your breath.”

  He reached her, then hesitated before closing the last step of distance between them. “I came to speak with you about Eywen, actually.” Finally he stepped forward, then offered her his arm.

  Feeling silly about being confrontational, she hooked her arm in his. He led her across the main hall into a short corridor, then out to the exterior gardens.

  Once outside, Finn exhaled a sigh of relief. While she did not feel the same connection to the earth that she once did, she still felt better outside. The fortress had begun to feel like a cage, with the Cavari out front, barren marshlands behind, and the ever looming threat of war everywhere else.

  They walked together in the dim light of dusk, toward a small stone bench, still damp from the rain. Wordlessly, they both sat.

  She smoothed her hands down her breeches nervously. She longed to tell him about Kai, about the decision she’d made to save him, but knew she could not. He would try to stop her, and he wouldn’t be wrong to do so. In weakening herself, she was risking them all.

  “You said you wanted to speak about Eywen?” she prompted, attempting to distract herself from her guilt.

  He nodded. “If we have no plans to advance on Oighear, he wishes to depart. He would like to gather more of his people to strengthen our defenses. He fears Oighear will grow too strong while we wait.”

  She wasn’t surprised by his words. She knew everyone was growing impatient with her. Everyone, except perhaps Àed, who seemed content to rest in the fortress now that he’d escaped Keiren, and Kai, too sick to even consider arguing the delay.

  “I suppose that’s for the best,” she replied.

  Iseult’s gray-green eyes watched her intently. “So you still refuse to act?”

  She took a long, tired breath, then looked down at her lap. She knew he’d bring it up eventually. Yet, what was she supposed to do? March far to the east to attack Oighear in her own element? March on Garenoch and kill Ealasaid? She didn’t care about the prophecy. She would not harm anyone who was not actively attempting to harm her first.

  Iseult’s hand reached forward to cradle her chin, turning her toward him. As soon as she looked up, his hand dropped, and he was closed off once more.

  Utterly infuriating man, she thought again. If he was going to be so closed off, he never should have kissed her in the first place.

  “I have angered you,” he observed.

  She fought to hide her emotions, then decided against it. She had a right to be angry, and not just at Iseult. She was angry at the entire cursed world, and at fate itself for making her a part of its morbid prophecy.

  Emboldened by her anger, she spoke without thinking. “If you must know, yes, I’m angry, but that is not at the forefront of my mind. I cannot think about wars, prophecies, or even you when I know Kai is in peril. I have been tip-toeing around for days, worried that you’ll try to stop me from saving him, or worse, you’ll kill him yourself instead.”

  Iseult’s expression did not change as he said, “He was bitten by one of those creatures, wasn’t he? Not the last time, but before, when he went missing?”

  Her jaw dropped. “You knew?”

  He shrugged. “I suspected.”

  “And you didn’t try to stop me from seeing him?” she pressed.

  “What you do with him is your choice,” he said evenly. “You have a much stronger . . . bond with him than I.”

  She blinked at him, attempting to maintain her emboldening anger, though it seemed to be slipping away. “Well then,” she replied, “I suppose that means you will not argue when I tell you that tomorrow at dawn, I’d like to combine my blood with his once more. It is all I can think of to save him.”

  His jaw stiffened, but he still did not argue.

  She waited.

  Finally, he gave her a stiff nod. “To weaken yourself is your choice. I will continue to protect you with my life regardless.”

  Utterly. Infuriating.

  She opened her mouth to reply, but he held up a hand.

  “Someone is listening,” he explained.

  Footsteps sounded from within the fortress, not far from where they were sitting.

  They both rose and rushed to the door to catch the eavesdropper, but no one was there.

  Iseult peered down the short hall for a moment, then shook his head and turned to Finn. “If you intend to carry through with this plan, at least try to rest first.”

  His eyes scanned her face. She knew she looked horrible from lack of sleep, but there wasn’t much she could do about it.

  She nodded. “I will do as you say. Anna and I plan to act at dawn.”

  Iseult gently touched her shoulder for a moment, then strode away.

  She watched his back as he retreated down the hall, her thoughts lingering on whoever had been listening to them. Hopefully it was just one of the Bucca.

  Her feet dragging with every step, she made her way toward her chamber. She knew sleep would not come easy, but if Iseult could be so agreeable to her notions, she could stand to be agreeable to some of his.

  Kai pressed his back against the wall, panting. That blasted Iseult had ears like a fox. How had he heard him waiting inside the doorway?

  He forced his breathing to slow, then hurried back toward his room, mulling over what he’d heard. He could not allow Finn to sacrifice more of her blood to him, not when it wasn’t likely to help.

  He reached his room and began gathering his few belongings. He should have left long ago, back when he first realized the bite, and perhaps the blood he was fed, were changing him. Yet, he’d selfishly looked forward to his daily visits from Finn. He’d hoped he would improve enough to be able to protect both her and Anna in these dangerous times.

  Now, he’d be doing quite the opposite if he stayed. He’d weaken Finn, and she’d be vulnerable to her many enemies. He could not allow it.

  If only Iseult would have argued with her . . . he shook his head. He truly couldn’t believe that he had not argued, but this was no time to dwell on it. He needed to escape the fortress before she came for him. He knew without a doubt that if he was forced to face her, he would be unable to say no.

  With his belongings slung over his back, and a few weapons strapped about his person, he exited his room. He listened to make sure no one was coming, then fled, knowing he could not look back. If he looked back, he would not have the strength to leave them all behind.

  Ealasaid limped toward the dining hall, the moon shining overhead to light her way. Slàine had forced her to practice for hours, and she’d been none too gentle about it. Her entire body was covered in bruises, and her new training clothes, a set of black breeches and matching tunic, were torn and muddy.

  To make matters worse, as soon as the lesson had ended, Sage, who was now her second in command, had come to find her to discuss infighting in the burgh. The young, dark-haired mage had been inexperienced when they’d first met, but now his fire magic could nearly rival Ealasaid’s lightning. He was a hard worker, and loyal, diligently training the new mages showing up each day. It turned out having so many mages in one town could be dangerous, as infighting escalated far beyond what would occur with normal men and women. She’d spent the remainder of her evening apologizing to the innkeep for his damaged property, when what she really wanted was a hot meal and a long bath.

  Maarav appeared at her side as she walked, the pleasant smells from the nearby dining hall engulfing them. She used to jump whenever he approached her so stealthily, especially at night, but she was used to it now. In fact, she’d come to depend on the way he always showed up just when she needed him most.

  “Carry me,” she whined. “I cannot walk anymore.�
��

  He smirked, making no move to lift her off the exterior cobblestone path leading to the brightly illuminated dining hall. They walked between decorative hedges, adorned near their wiry trunks with waxy winter flowers, their colors washed out in the moonlight. “I see Slàine has not grown softer in her training methods.”

  She shook her head, her frizzy curls now mostly pulled loose from her braid. “If anything, she’s grown harder. I cannot believe that she made all of her assassins train so rigorously.”

  Maarav smiled wistfully, his black hair trailing behind him in the soft breeze, intermingling with the darkness of night. “On my sixteenth birthday she made me climb to the top of the cliffs guarding our home in the North. When I reached the top, she aimed an arrow at me and forced me to walk along the entire effacement before I could come back down.”

  She stopped walking to turn and balk at him. She’d seen his homeland once, not long after they’d escaped Conall and his Reivers. The massive black cliffs hiding the city within were far too steep to climb, and their tops were jagged and sharp as daggers. “You’re kidding,” she pressed when he did not elaborate further.

  He shook his head. “You can do impossible things when a woman is aiming an arrow at you.”

  “I’ll have to remember that,” she quipped, then forced herself to start walking. Her sore feet dragged with every step.

  “So . . . ” Maarav trailed off.

  She knew what he was going to ask next. Though she’d agreed to marry him, she hadn’t thought everything through. How could they possibly have a wedding when they were at war? It seemed somehow wrong. Not to mention that her family was dead, and she wasn’t close enough to any of the mages to call them true friends. If they had a wedding now, their only witness would be Slàine. Perhaps Ouve and Tavish would have attended, but they were both dead.

  “We are at war,” she replied, not wanting to voice her other pathetic concerns. She was ruling over thousands of powerful magic users. She shouldn’t be concerned about having friends.

  “My point precisely,” he countered. “We don’t know what could happen tomorrow, and I’d like to be married to you today.”

  They reached the light of the dining hall. If she could just put him off until they were inside, they’d have no privacy in which to speak . . .

  He gently took hold of her arm, halting her advance. “Is there another reason you’re avoiding this subject?” he questioned.

  She met his gray-green eyes.

  “Ealasaid!” someone called, and her shoulders slumped in relief.

  They both turned to see lantern light illuminating Ilsandra, one of the mages who’d been present since the battle against the Aos Sí. She was tall, only a few inches shorter than Maarav, with long hair so blonde it looked white.

  She reached them, then hesitated, her dark eyes hinting that she’d picked up on the tension between Maarav and Ealasaid. Her freckled skin slowly turned red.

  “It’s fine,” Ealasaid assured. “What do you need?”

  “Travelers, my lady,” she explained. “They wait outside the gates.”

  “The Ceàrdaman?” she questioned. “Have they said what they want?”

  Ilsandra bit her thin bottom lip, then replied. “To speak with you, my lady. They asked for you by name.”

  Ealasaid turned her attention to Maarav.

  He shrugged. “They’re being polite if they’re waiting outside the gate. Simple walls do not keep creatures like the Ceàrdaman out.”

  Well that was something, at least. She turned back to Ilsandra with a sigh. “I suppose I better go and speak with them.”

  Ilsandra nodded, then turned to lead the way. Maarav followed at Ealasaid’s side without question.

  Ealasaid’s stomach growled. She’d been so close to a nice supper. “What do you know of the Travelers?” she whispered to Maarav as Ilsandra walked ahead of them.

  “About as much as any,” he replied. “They claim to be all-knowing, and are somehow related to the Faie. No one knows where they came from, or why, they suddenly just appeared at a random point in history.”

  Ealasaid sucked her teeth as they rounded the central building of the estate toward the gates leading out into Garenoch. What could the Travelers want with her?

  Even at the late hour, many mages were still running around, along with the assassins who stood guard. Those who came near enough to recognize her in the dark watched on curiously as they reached the gates, motioning for the guards above to let them out into the burgh.

  Ilsandra stood close to them while the massive gates swung outward, prompting Ealasaid to keep her questions to herself, not out of distrust, but out of a need to appear like she knew what she was doing. Which, it was becoming increasingly clear to her, she did not.

  With the gates now open, she turned to Ilsandra. “There’s no need to accompany us any further. We’ll be fine on our own.” She flicked her gaze to the assassins who’d approached, ready to escort them into the burgh.

  The black-cowled men and women turned their gazes to Maarav, who nodded.

  Ealasaid sucked her teeth again, then turned to walk through the open gates. Even though she was supposed to be in charge, the assassins all deferred to Slàine, or to Maarav when Slàine was not around. Perhaps someday Ealasaid would earn their trust. She only hoped such a day would come before Slàine decided Ealasaid was worth more to her dead.

  Together, she and Maarav walked out into the burgh. The gates slowly swung shut behind them, trapping them on the outside, though Ealasaid did not mind. She felt far safer in the burgh than she did around Slàine, or any of Lady Síoda’s men. Though the lady of the burgh and her husband, Lord Gwrtheryn, had peacefully retreated to their own private area of the estate, Ealasaid could not quite push away the fear of a knife striking her in the dark. Gwrtheryn might be a coward, but Síoda was a woman to be watched.

  Once they were out of sight of the guards perched atop the high walls, Maarav wrapped Ealasaid’s hand in his. She took comfort in his warm palm against hers. At one time, she feared a knife in the back from him too, but that time was long since past. While few others would be wise to trust him, she did, and that was all that mattered to her.

  They received a few glances here and there from those still out that evening, either closing their shutters for the night, or walking toward the inn for a meal, but no one bothered them. It was refreshing to feel for a moment like any other normal person.

  Of course, that feeling would end as soon as they reached the outer gates where the Travelers waited.

  Nearing the newly constructed gates, she stopped to look up at Maarav’s shadowed features. “Is there anything else I need to know?”

  He shrugged. “Just be careful what you say, Eala, and do not ask them for information that they do not offer freely. And do not take any gifts. If you do, they will expect something in return, something you will most certainly be reluctant to give.”

  With a nod, she took a deep breath, then approached the guards standing at the base of the gate, ready to gesture up to those posted above. Two of the guards were Lady Síoda’s men, evident by their simple uniforms of dark blue coats and matching breeches. With them were two mages Ealasaid vaguely recognized, a man and a woman, though she could not recall either’s name.

  “They wait just outside the gates, my lady,” the male mage explained. “We were not sure if we should admit them.”

  She didn’t bother telling them that if the Travelers wanted to come in, they would simply come in, and there was little anyone could do about it.

  “Open one side of the gates,” she instructed, “but remain on guard. I will speak with them.”

  The mages and guards nodded. One guard gestured up to those mounted atop the wall. A moment later, one of the heavy gates began to swing inward, prompting those before it to step out of the way.

  Ealasaid waited patiently as the gate opened, revealing five of the Ceàrdaman standing outside. They wore long white robes, obscuring t
heir thin forms to the point where Ealasaid could not tell if they were male or female. Their perfectly bald heads and features that were neither overly masculine nor feminine added to their air of sameness.

  Ealasaid stepped forward with Maarav at her side, and the guards and mages behind them, fanned out defensively.

  One of the Travelers stepped forward. Ealasaid guessed she was female. In her hands she held a black velvet box, long and thin. To Ealasaid’s surprise, the Traveler dropped to a knee, her people mirroring the movement behind her.

  She bowed her bald head and extended the velvet box. “We of Clan Solas Na Réaltaí come bearing gifts for the Queen of Wands.”

  Ealasaid bit her lip to keep from gasping. Queen of Wands was what Oighear had called her too. She recognized the words of their clan name as something that roughly translated to starlight. Not far off from the name given to her gathering of mages, An Solas, simply, the light.

  Her mind raced for something to say, but all she could come up with was, “Why?”

  The Traveler lifted her gaze, but did not rise. “To swear fealty, of course.”

  Ealasaid glanced at Maarav, who shrugged.

  “And what would you want in return for this fealty?” she asked, remembering Maarav’s warning.

  “We offer this allegiance freely,” she explained. “We do not require a boon in return.”

  She glanced at Maarav again.

  He pursed his lips, observing the Travelers. “They may twist their words, but they do not lie. If they say something directly, you need not question it.”

  Her shoulders relaxing, she received the velvet box. It was heavier than it looked, far heavier. She wondered by its shape if perhaps a short sword was hidden inside.

  She peered at the Traveler as she rose, wondering if she was now expected to open the box.

  Though Ealasaid asked no direct question, the Traveler nodded.

  With a shaky breath, she balanced the heavy box in one hand and removed the lid with the other.

  Inside was a silver scepter. The rod was decorated with tiny swirls and pinpricks of jewels that looked like stars. At one end was a perfectly clear, raw jewel, clearly unshaped by human hands. It was about half the size of her fist. With the way it twinkled in the moonlight, she could hardly imagine what it might look like in the sun.