That he’d sent me his sprite with a message was proof enough.
Mum pressed her lips together. “This is unprecedented. The Erlking was over a thousand years old and was married to the Seelie Queen before I was born, so it’s unsurprising that he didn’t foresee this eventuality.”
“Yeah, his children will have been scattered for centuries, I imagine,” I said. “As for her, the Sidhe blew up at me when I suggested his ex-wife might have bumped him off. Does she have a claim to any of the Erlking’s property?”
“No,” said Mum. “If he’d taken her on as an equal partner, it would be a different story, but she didn’t share his power.”
“That’s why everyone thinks they married for love.” How the two had agreed to their union was a total mystery to me. The Erlking’s destructive magic and his wife’s super-charged healing abilities were a match made in hell. Not that she wasn’t a dangerous force in her own right, and if she hadn’t been behind bars, she’d be sitting in the Erlking’s place.
Ilsa turned the page of her book. “It’ll be one of his children. Legitimacy doesn’t matter to the Sidhe.”
“Assuming he had kids,” I added. “For all I know, that talisman of his made copulating difficult. I wonder how he even got married. Did he and the Seelie Queen stand on opposite sides of the room and yell the vows at one another?”
“Faerie weddings aren’t—”
“I know they aren’t like human ones. I was joking. Anyway, imagine how awkward the funeral will be. Everyone there will be related and will have murdered their own cousins at least once, back when death was temporary.”
Ilsa winced. “Or everyone will claim to be the heir and get into a punch-up over his coffin.”
“I hope I don’t get an invitation, then.” There hadn’t been a funeral in Faerie… ever. “I wonder who will get all his money. He must be loaded.”
Inheritance customs among Sidhe were almost non-existent, thanks to their long-lived nature and proclivity for centuries-long family feuds. As for marriage, most Sidhe didn’t practise monogamy, or at the very least, didn’t select a single life partner. Eternity was a long time, and the shifting alliances, betrayals and general backstabbing didn’t make for happy partnerships. Just look at the Erlking and his wife.
Half-faeries, with a shorter lifespan, were a little easier to understand. They had no reason to crave and steal power as the Sidhe did. But that didn’t mean one of them couldn’t be heir, in name at least. No way. They wouldn’t let a mortal take the throne.
“I imagine the heir will inherit everything he owned,” said Mum. “Anyone might claim to be his relation, but it’s a matter of whether they can wield his power.”
“You mean the staff.”
The staff, with its destructive magic, capable of destroying anything it touched. Whoever next wielded it would hold the fate of the Courts in their hands.
“The staff.” Ilsa reached into the pocket of her grey hoody and pulled out a small, square book with a picture of a large black raven on the cover. “Maybe my talisman knows more about it.”
“I thought your talisman was supposed to be an expert on the realm of Death, not Faerie.” For most people, speaking about an object as though it was an intelligent being would draw raised eyebrows, but most people didn’t live in a house fuelled by faerie magic straight from the Summer Court. All talismans contained a certain amount of power, but the more powerful ones attained a certain level of consciousness and influence over their owner. In Ilsa’s case, the book changed its contents depending on what Ilsa wanted to know, but when it didn’t feel like sharing, the pages turned blank. Like now, for instance.
Ilsa gave the book a shake, but the pages remained empty. “Don’t give me that crap. I know you know more than you let on.”
“And you wonder why people think we’re weird.” I reached out and gave the book a prod. “I don’t think it knows anything about the Erlking’s talisman, Ilsa.”
The book itself was supposed to be a repository of knowledge on all things related to necromancy and the afterlife, but its magic was from a source similar to the Erlking’s talisman. Not Faerie, but the magic that had ruled before the Sidhe.
“That, or it’s terrified of being turned to dust, too.” She turned the pages. “If nothing else, it might tell me more about Death in Faerie.”
My mouth parted. The Sidhe alone knew what awaited them after death, and they guarded that information fiercely. Back when their immortality source had remained intact, their souls had passed through the Death Kingdom on the edge of the Winter Court before returning to life… and that was as much as I knew.
“Anything?” I leaned over her shoulder. “Hey, you’re a necromancer. There’s another way to speak to the man himself.”
“Oh, boy.” She turned the blank page. “Please don’t. Morgan already tried to talk me into asking the Sidhe to let us into the Court to summon the Erlking’s ghost. You know they’d never let me, not in a million years.”
“Maybe after a million years, they’ll have run out of other ideas.” In the human realm, hiring a necromancer to investigate a suspicious death was a common enough practice for those who could afford it. On the other hand, raising the dead in the Courts was risky for everyone, including the necromancer. I wouldn’t ask her to do it if there were any other way to learn the Erlking’s last wishes.
“Maybe.” Ilsa sighed. “But he must have thought you could solve the riddle. Besides, finding out who the killer is won’t tell us where the staff and the crown are.”
“True,” I relented. “Only one person can hold the staff at any given time, and I can’t imagine it’s fun to carry around a talisman that kills everything it touches. There must be more than one conspirator.”
Her lips pursed. “You’d think the staff would be easier to track. Someone would have noticed if it was still in the Court.”
My hands twisted together. “I don’t think it is.”
Which left two options: the lands of the Grey Vale, where the Sidhe banished their outcasts, or in the mortal realm. The thief would have had to move fast to get it out of the Court, which at least alleviated the possibility that it was anywhere near our house. The whole place would collapse without the magic fuelling it. If it was loose in the mortal realm… well, the upside was that we’d hear about it pretty quickly.
The downside was that it might be the last time we heard anything at all. My Gatekeeper’s magic only protected me against faerie magic, not the dark power of the Sidhe’s terrifying predecessors. The Erlking must have hoped his immortality would shield anyone else from having to bear the burden of carrying that staff. He’d implied as much the last time we’d spoken.
For all our sakes, I hoped that wouldn’t be my last interaction with a monarch of Faerie.
5
Darrow didn’t call me back to the Court that evening, but the mark on my wrist kept me up all night, throbbing and twinging like a wild piskie was gnawing on my arm. I got up early and took out my anger on the punching bag, hammering it until the pain grew too intense. Showering and dressing proved difficult, too, and by the time I gave in and went through the gates, I was tempted to punch Darrow in the nose when I found him waiting on the other side. He looked irritatingly fresh-faced, his silver hair gleaming and his lean body clothed in plain black. He shouldn’t look as striking as he did, but then again, faeries could make rags look like a monarch’s garb.
I gave him a scowl. “I hope you had as rough a night as I did.”
“I am not the person who started the binding ceremony,” he said. “I believe it was set up after a past Gatekeeper tried to flee their responsibilities.”
“Don’t look at me.” Who might that have been? Mum’s lessons had taught me some past Gatekeepers’ tenures had been awfully short-lived, but I’d been more focused on emulating the ones who’d survived.
“You kept me waiting some time.”
“You try showering with only one hand working.” To my irritation,
the pain had faded now we stood beside one another. “I’m not going to attach myself to you like a limpet until the Trials are over.”
“The pain should go away after the first day or two,” he said. “I’ve considered your proposal.”
“Huh?”
“You said you preferred a different style of tutelage,” he said. “And you prefer me to call you by your name… Hazel.”
I frowned. “What brought this on?”
A knife flew into his hand, inches from my throat. My hand snapped up and caught his wrist, driving the blade away from my neck. With my free hand, I hammered a blow into his sternum, except he wasn’t there anymore, and my hand passed through empty air.
A sweeping kick knocked my legs out from underneath me. I came upright in time for my chin to collide with Darrow’s fist. I bit my tongue and tasted blood, my eyes watering with pain. He’d moved too fast even for a Sidhe—and where in hell had his knife disappeared to?
The truth hit me: he hadn’t really been there. I’d been talking to an illusion while the real Darrow shadowed me, waiting to strike. The underhanded snake.
I spat out blood. “That was a low blow.”
“It’s the least of what you can expect in the Trials, mortal.”
“Thought you were calling me Hazel now.” I lunged for his arm, trying for a lock, but he twisted free with an elegance that a lifetime of martial arts training would never accomplish.
A muscle twitched in his jaw. “You need to learn not to let your guard down.”
“You need to learn not to look away from your weapons.” I yanked his knife out of the sheath on his thigh and hooked my legs around his, bringing both of us crashing to the ground. Pinning him between my knees, I pressed the tip of the blade to his throat. “If you want to use cheap trickery, I’ll return the favour.”
His eyes narrowed, his chest rising and falling. Magic brushed against me, its sharp scent infiltrating my senses. It smelled of oak and ash, tinged with frost. The mark on my wrist tingled. “Don’t push your luck, mortal.”
“It’s Hazel.” I returned his glare with a smile and pushed to my feet, ignoring the lingering caress of magic as potent as a Sidhe’s. How far did his magical talents go? He could create illusions that breathed as though they were alive and could carry on a conversation with a real person without being detected.
One breathes without life…
A sudden rush of fear chased down my spine. He couldn’t have used an illusion to infiltrate the Erlking’s home, could he? No… the Erlking’s talisman destroyed any magic it made contact with. It wasn’t possible for even him to evade its insidious touch.
Darrow held out a hand for his blade. “What is it?”
“Nothing.” I gave him his knife back, keeping my smile in place. The Sidhe could smell prey a mile off, and I’d spent too long learning to mask my fear to be cowed by the likes of him.
He sheathed the blade. “We’ve wasted enough time. Come with me.”
As if I’d started the whole thing. “You haven’t said where we’re going.”
“The base for the Gatekeeper’s training grounds.” He looked me up and down. “Take off your glamour. You’ll be wearing a different one for the duration of your Trials.”
That’s presumptuous. For all he knew, I’d thrown on the glamour immediately after waking up and was stark naked underneath, which I may have done once or twice when I’d overslept before classes as a kid. After all, glamour took less than a second to apply, and I’d often suspected that the only reason the Sidhe bothered with clothing at all was because it provided some protection if someone started throwing spears around. Which, to be fair, was a high possibility here in the Courts.
I let the glamour fall away, revealing my plain clothes. Darrow’s hands glowed, and I glanced down to find that I now wore black attire edged in green, like his own outfit.
“Nice,” I commented. “Bit plain, though.”
Without a word, Darrow walked down a short path towards an expanse of grass and halted beside the opening to a tunnel.
“This,” he said, “is the entrance to the Gatekeeper’s training grounds.”
I peered inside, seeing earthen walls and a surprisingly large space underneath the hill. “I didn’t know it was underground.”
Mum hadn’t been allowed to tell me about her own Trials, so I knew nothing of the specifics, only what I’d managed to glean from reading old Gatekeeper’s reports. I did know that there was no point in trying to guess our location, because in Faerie, nothing was constant.
“You won’t tell a soul about this place,” he added. “The binding will ensure it.”
I bet it will. Swallowing my renewed annoyance at the mark on my wrist, I followed him through the entryway into an open space with a high, domed ceiling and passages branching off in all directions. The earthen floor was smoothed from the impact of a thousand footprints, while shimmering lights hung at intervals on the wall. To my surprise, several other faeries gathered in small groups, and turned my way when I entered.
“These are my assistants,” said Darrow. “They will guard you while the Trials are in progress.”
He’s not training me alone? What was the deal with the binding, then?
“Coral will show you around.” He beckoned one of the faeries over. “She’ll tell you the basics, and then I’ll introduce you to the training grounds.”
Before I could ask another question, he was already walking away, leaving me alone with a roomful of strangers.
“Hey,” said the young woman he’d called over. “I’m Coral.”
Her generous curves and wavy white-blond hair indicated her human heritage, but her pointed ears were definitely fae. She didn’t wear typical court attire. Over a plain black outfit similar to mine, a shimmering white cape hung off her shoulders.
“You’re half… selkie.” I noted the cape.
She smiled. “I am. And you’re human. Hazel, right?”
“That’s me.” She was the first person who’d smiled at me since I’d set foot in Faerie, and the first selkie I’d spoken to at all. They tended to keep to themselves. Her Scottish accent indicated she must be part of Scotland’s selkie colony who lived in the ocean off the coast.
Coral led me down a passage and through a door on the right. To my surprise, it contained a fair-sized set of living quarters, including a bedroom, kitchen and bathroom. While it didn’t have any of the modern conveniences like a microwave or electric lighting, it beat sleeping under the stars, which I’d assumed most Gatekeepers did during the Trials.
“This is all yours for the duration of your training,” she said. “The Trials have been known to take place over a number of days, so we wanted to make things comfortable in case you have to spend the night here.”
“By ‘we’, I take it you don’t mean Darrow.”
Her brows rose. “Made an impression, did he?”
I held up my arm to show the mark on my wrist. “Let’s just say I’m a little sleep deprived.”
She winced. “I can brew a tonic for that. I don’t know if he told you the effects fade after a day, and when you’re in this realm, you won’t notice them at all.”
“That’s… not ideal,” I said. “But I appreciate the offer.”
Selkies weren’t given to deceit or trickery, so her offer was likely genuine. The only magic they possessed was the ability to transform into a seal—unless their skin was stolen, that is—which explained why she wore it as a cape.
She twitched her shoulders under the cape, seeing me looking. “You should know, I’ll be testing your knowledge on poisons at some point during your Trials, but I won’t do anything underhanded like slip poison into your food or water.”
“Now you’ve told me that, I’m going to be doubly suspicious,” I said, in light tones.
She grinned. “Good. It’ll keep you alive. I take it you’ve spent a lot of time in the Court?”
“As much as a human is allowed to,” I said. “You’re f
rom the Sea Kingdom, right? Does your Queen know you’re here?”
“Of course she does,” she said. “I’ll brew the potion to stop the mark from bothering you. Darrow wants me to show you the whole place, but between you and me, there’s not much worth seeing in here, and he’ll show you the weapons room himself.”
She walked into the kitchen area and began opening cupboards. Someone had fully stocked the kitchen with packaged meals that looked like they’d come from a human supermarket.
“So that’s your speciality,” I observed. “Didn’t know you went in for poisons in the Sea Kingdom.”
“Oh, we don’t,” she said. “We’re not fighters by nature, especially not outside of the water. Being employed as food-tasters or bodyguards is actually one of the least hazardous positions one can take in the Court.”
“Huh.” My knowledge of the Sidhe eclipsed my education on the rest of Faerie—for obvious reasons—but everyone knew selkies were better equipped for life in the water than on land. “What’re you, then? Darrow’s assistant?”
She snorted, almost dropping the bag of herbs she was holing. “No. Darrow meant we’re here to assist with protecting you.”
“You mean, stopping the Sidhe from murdering me because they suspect I killed their king,” I surmised. “Is that the reason for the lessons on poisons?”
“You’ve got it,” she said. “It’s useful to know, since the Sidhe use poison when they don’t want to make an open challenge.”
“They don’t tend to be that subtle when it comes to me.” I’d never heard of the Gatekeeper having extra bodyguards before. They must be really worried one of the Sidhe would slit my throat in my sleep. Not a cheery thought. I fidgeted, watching her add herbs to a bowl and stir with practised hands. “Does Darrow hate half-bloods as much as he hates humans?”
“Hates humans?” she echoed. “He doesn’t hate humans.”
Right. So he has a personal issue with me, then. I didn’t get why, considering he at least had volunteered for this, but perhaps he’d gone in expecting someone like Mum, not someone who smiled and chatted and turned his own weapon on him when he wasn’t looking.
The Gatekeeper's Trials: The Complete Trilogy Page 5
