The Gatekeeper's Trials: The Complete Trilogy

by Emma L. Adams

  We passed through the palace grounds and out the gate, where the path changed at Lady Aiten’s direction to reveal a winding forest track leading up to a pair of gates. Vines snaked up and down its spear-sharp points, and beyond lay wild forest as far as the eye could see. Lady Aiten extended a hand, revealing a knife gleaming with green light, and pressed it to point where the two gates met, causing them to swing open.

  “You still have a security talisman,” I observed. “Did you always have one?”

  “Yes,” she said. “Since the Erlking chose me to work for him. His original security team forfeited their talismans after the Seelie Queen’s betrayal, and he distributed them among our new team.”

  “I hope Lord Farin has been relieved of his.”

  She cut me a sideways glance. “Lord Farin misplaced his talisman at Lord Niall’s house, shortly before you informed us of the open doorway into the Grey Vale in the Erlking’s territory.”

  Oops. In fairness, Lord Farin had fallen asleep on duty, and I’d borrowed his talisman for a good cause. Unfortunately, the killer had been one step ahead of me.

  “I thought you were working against my family at the time,” I told her. “Since you kept threatening to have me arrested. Besides, I was working on a hunch. I figured investigating alone would be less risky, given what happened to Lord Kerien.”

  “Be careful,” she said. “I have warned you your Gatekeeper’s title does not carry the protection it once did, which will only grow worse as long as there remains no monarch on Summer’s throne.”

  “Believe me, I know.” To say I had trust issues was an understatement, but the Sidhe were the ones who’d instilled a lifetime of wariness in me. Mum had taught me never to take them at their word despite their inability to lie, but the Seelie Queen’s earlier statements had carried the chilling ring of truth. Lord Daival had come here after his escape, I was certain.

  As for whether he’d found what he’d come for? That remained to be seen.

  The Erlking’s territory had grown wild in the short time since his passing. Thick foliage covered the exterior of the Seelie Queen’s former house, where trees grew from floor to ceiling and the crater-sized hole in the floor was already choked with weeds.

  “Sprite,” I called, scanning the entrance hall. “Hey… sprite.”

  I climbed through a collapsed doorway and peered into the room beyond, but I might as well have tried to dig up a long-buried ruin beneath dense overgrowth. The Seelie Queen had left few traces of her old life here in her former home, and nature had reclaimed the rest. Tangled plants blocked the way into the tunnel through the trapdoor, and I couldn’t picture even a sprite being able to squeeze down there into the darkness.

  It took me even longer to find the clearing, trekking through dense forest choked with undergrowth. Most of Summer territory came equipped with a steady breeze to counter the heat, but my arms dripped with sweat by the time I tracked down the hunched shape of the Erlking’s throne. Formed of the husks of rotting tree roots, it had since collapsed under a torrent of green moss and weeds.

  I think he’d prefer it this way. Centuries of his life he’d spent sitting on that throne, unable to get close to anyone for fear of turning them to dust. He’d taken no pleasure in holding the talisman, and damn if I didn’t want to raise him from death to ask how he’d resisted its call for so long. Even without its shadowy magic humming in my palms, the vivid memory of wrapping my hand around the hilt and feeling the whisper of its awakening consciousness was never far from the forefront of my mind.

  I turned my back on the throne, shoving fistfuls of undergrowth aside until I uncovered the tunnel entrance leading into the Erlking’s underground quarters. I ducked under a tree root into the tunnel, branches scraping my arms. In the wide cave ahead, roots sprouted through the walls, while large sections of the tunnels had collapsed beneath nature’s onslaught.

  “Sprite!” I called into the tunnel, but no answer returned. I pushed a wad of tree roots aside and shoved my way forward, calling out, over and over again.

  Every route seemed to lead back into the main cave, and no sprite appeared. I took the longest route into the forest, emerging in the spot where the murderer had slain the Erlking’s security troll. Shoving branches aside, I burst above the ground and yelled, “Sprite.”

  The forest caught my shouts and echoed them back at me, but no response came. Breathless and covered in scratches, I made my way back to the entrance. Lady Aiten stood beside the gate, without so much as a bead of sweat on her perfect face.

  I halted, clutching a stitch in my chest. “The Erlking’s sprite is missing. The Seelie Queen told me he’s the only person in the Court who knows the identity of the Erlking’s heir. I think Lord Daival came here after his escape…”

  “And took the Erlking’s sprite captive?” Her tone dripped with disbelief, but it sounded more like she didn’t want to believe me than anything else.

  “I believe so.” I straightened upright. “The Seelie Queen told me it was his intention, and I’ve found no signs of the sprite here on the Erlking’s territory. Don’t forget the sprite was the one the Erlking trusted to deliver the message telling me to investigate his death.”

  Lady Aiten’s face turned ashen. “I must inform the others.”

  “Don’t make a big scene,” I warned. “If you tell all the Sidhe, everyone will start panicking. Others might take advantage of the situation to put themselves forward as the potential heirs, like those two shapeshifters at the party. Best to keep it quiet for now.”

  Her lips compressed. “You will need to hold your tongue, too, mortal. If the other Sidhe find out you were the one to inform me of Lord Daival’s intentions, they might well decide you are to blame.”

  That figured. It’d be easier to blame the human than admit to their own screw-ups. “I’m used to keeping secrets. But I do need to warn my family about Lord Daival’s escape.”

  “Do that.” Her words were as sharp as thorns. “You are not to come back to Faerie until I have decided what to do with you.”

  And to think I’d thought we’d begun to understand one another. I recognised the raw fear underlying her tone, so I let it slide for now.

  Once we’d retraced our steps to the ambassadors’ palace, I made for the gate leading back home. I’d been looking for an excuse to get out of the party, but an escaped criminal hadn’t been what I’d had in mind. Why didn’t I ask the sprite if he knew who the heir was? It wouldn’t have been my first thought, but knowing the Erlking’s commitment to secrecy, of course he wouldn’t have told any of the other Sidhe. As to why the sprite hadn’t just told the heir… well, the Erlking’s murderer had still been loose in the Court at the time. The heir had likely survived this long because nobody had known their identity.

  On the path, the Summer gate waited for me, formed of pointed hawthorn stakes coated with moss. Opening the gate still carried the same storybook air it had when I’d entered Faerie for the first time, as though my very bones knew I was treading in the footsteps of my ancestor, Thomas Lynn.

  All the stories told that the young knight had been walking in the woods when a faerie queen had lured him through a gate. After a time, he’d escaped back to Earth, but the Sidhe were not to be defied. They’d come for his daughters when they were grown, the same way they’d come for me. At twelve, I’d woken to find magic coursing through my veins, the Gatekeeper’s mark glowing on my forehead. It’d taken me a while to learn my new talents came with one hell of a sting in the tail, yet despite our mutual dislike, I’d come to suspect that the Sidhe needed the Gatekeepers as much as we needed them.

  “Hazel?” Ilsa called from behind me. “You’re leaving?”

  I turned around, one hand resting on the gate. River caught up with Ilsa, but nobody else was within hearing distance. “Lord Daival escaped jail and kidnapped the Erlking’s sprite. Who, the Seelie Queen just told me, is the only person in the Courts who knows the identity of the heir to the Erlking’s throne.”<
br />
  Her jaw dropped. “Shit.”

  “Yeah, pretty much,” I said. “I don’t care if the Sidhe notice I’m missing, but Mum needs to know. I’m not leaving her alone at home with Lord Daival on the loose, besides.”

  “They won’t notice you leave,” said River, whose stunned expression matched Ilsa’s. “I’ll stay here and keep an eye out for trouble.”

  “If you’re sure.” Ilsa gave him a quick hug, then walked after me through the gate.

  In the garden of the Summer Lynn house, bright green lawns ran to the large manor house, while on the right-hand side of the gate lay the Inner Garden. A narrow entrance between thick hedges led to the pool of healing waters, and within, a dark shape floated below the surface.

  “I don’t suppose you know who the heir is?” I asked the Erlking’s staff.

  No reply came. Shadowy magic coiled around the staff’s hilt, mingling with the vibrant light of the healing waters. Not Summer or Winter magic, but the magic of the Sidhe’s predecessors, the godlike Ancients whose power put even the SIdhe to shame. After the Sidhe had kicked their gods out of their realm, all that remained were remnants of their power.

  Remnant or not, there was something conscious present in the staff, calling to me and urging me to wrap my hand around the hilt. The staff had the power to turn Lord Daival to dust in a heartbeat, but I was fairly sure it wasn’t healthy to keep re-claiming the magic and then giving it up. Besides, conscious or not, it was still an inanimate object with no knowledge of the Erlking’s heir.

  “Hazel?” Ilsa said from behind me. “Morgan’s not around, but Mum’s still up, and she’s not in the shed. Want to come and tell her?”

  I dragged my gaze away from the staff and turned my back on the still waters of the grove. “Sure.”

  I didn’t miss the faint traces of concern in her expression which always appeared whenever I lingered too long in the grove. Being close to the talisman’s magic was like walking into a faerie revel. One second you were perfectly in control, the next you were leading a naked conga line through Lord Niall’s living room. However much the staff might tempt me, I had no intention of turning into the next Seelie Queen, thanks. Lord Daival’s magic was weak, as far as I knew. I shouldn’t need the talisman’s magic to apprehend him.

  Mum sat up in the living room, surrounded by stacks of paper on every available surface. Teetering piles occupied the armchairs, the coffee table, even the bookshelves. All were covered in scrawling handwriting, mostly hers and Ilsa’s.

  “You’re back early,” she said, stifling a yawn with the back of her hand.

  I closed the living room door and cleared a stack of papers from the sofa to sit down. “Do you want the bad news or the worse news first?”

  “Lord Daival escaped jail and kidnapped the Erlking’s sprite.” Ilsa sank into the sofa beside me. “Turns out the sprite is also the one person who knows who the Erlking picked to be his successor.”

  Mum dropped the page she held, which fluttered to the carpet. “If he comes here—”

  “He doesn’t need to,” I said. “Our copy of the family tree is incomplete, and besides, we don’t know who the Erlking chose as his successor. It might have been anyone.”

  “What did the Sidhe tell you to do?”

  I fished the paper from the floor and handed it back to her. “Nothing. Lady Aiten is the only person who knows, aside from me, and she thinks the other Sidhe might pin the blame on me if they find out.” The Sidhe were more than welcome to deal with him themselves, even if years of cleaning up their messes had instilled me with a permanent mentality of if you want something done right, you have to do it yourself.

  “Sprites are considered inferior beings in the Courts,” said Mum. “I would guess that’s why nobody guessed the Erlking chose him as a confidant.”

  “Yeah, I know.” I looked at my feet, guilt swirling within me. I should have taken the sprite with me, not left him to roam around the Erlking’s territory alone.

  “Did you say the Seelie Queen told you?” said Ilsa. “Are you sure she wasn’t leading you astray?”

  “She didn’t lie.” My hands fisted on my lap. “She told me unambiguously that the sprite is the only person who knows who the heir is, and Lord Daival intended to capture him. Given the sprite’s absence, it’s safe to say he at least tried.”

  Mum swore under her breath. “The sprite was the Erlking’s most trusted advisor. They’ll have known one another for centuries. I should have known he would have told the sprite and not his Sidhe advisors.”

  “Especially considering one of them used to be Lord Daival himself,” I added. “Though I’m guessing the Erlking didn’t expect his sprite to become a target.”

  Which left the Sidhe with a conundrum and a half. If the sprite told Lord Daival the heir’s identity, the Seelie Queen’s next step would be to get rid of the competition. On the other hand, if he perished without revealing the identity of the heir, the Sidhe wouldn’t be able to crown their next monarch with the confidence that the Erlking would have backed up their choice. From what I’d seen at the revel tonight, it was safe to say some of them would object no matter who the Erlking nominated, but the odds of the Summer Court electing a new leader without bloodshed had plummeted below zero.

  “I was afraid of this,” Mum said. “Given how long it’s been since the Court had a change of leadership, nobody would ever have been as widely supported as the Erlking. Most of the current Sidhe were born after he was crowned and have never known a world without him on the throne, much less had cause to wonder about who might succeed him.”

  “Then why bother with the family tree?” Lady Aiten had been the one to convince Mum to start it, since our house held the most books on the history of the Courts in the mortal realm, but it seemed a pointless exercise if the Erlking had his own plans. “Considering most names on the list don’t match up with actual people, it’s probably centuries out of date.”

  “I imagine they’re code names,” said Mum, indicating the sprawling lines on the page in front of her. “Even the Erlking’s own name is unknown to the Sidhe. Most knew him as Oberon, his father’s name.”

  Ilsa gave a nod. “She’s right. The Sidhe are superstitious about names.”

  Didn’t I know it. The brief shred of optimism I’d felt at the sight of the family tree’s lines gradually filling in had disappeared when Mum explained that most of the names didn’t correspond with any known inhabitants of Faerie. It seemed the Sidhe were paranoid about being recorded in the history books, so they’d used false names like the Lord of Sweeping Tides and the Lady of Tall Trees. On top of that, many of them changed their actual names and titles every other century out of boredom.

  “They are.” Mum laid down the page on the arm of the sofa. “However, Lady Aiten asked me to do this, and it’s all I can do, without my magic.”

  The vulnerability in her tone struck me at the core. Mum had always seemed indomitable, unyielding, but losing her Gatekeeper’s powers must have hit her harder than I’d realised.

  “Then I’ll help.” I sat down beside her and picked up one of the books. “If we find out who the heir is ourselves, we can at least warn them so they can be on their guard.”

  Ilsa picked up a stack of papers and shuffled them like a pack of cards. “The Sidhe must know Lord Daival is hiding in the Vale. If they can get over their fears and go after him, they should be able to find him.”

  “Unless he doesn’t want to be found.” I flipped open the book. “Did I mention he also stole back his talismans from the jail’s weapon stores? The guards keep everything they confiscate from their prisoners in storage.”

  Ilsa rolled her eyes. “I think immortality is the only reason the Sidhe survived this long at all. If they’d let natural selection do its thing, they’d have died out.”

  “No kidding.”

  Speaking of dying out, the odds of the next monarch living as long as the Erlking were pretty much zero. Securing leadership was an awful lot
easier with immortality backed up by a talisman with the ability to reduce any threats to ashes.

  One thing was clear: whoever succeeded the Erlking, the era of peace in the Courts had come to an end.

  Mum, Ilsa and I stayed up into the early hours, working on the family tree. Ilsa was the bookish one in the family, but I’d been spending longer than she had in the library this past week, scouring my family’s collection of ancient tomes for any clues about the Erlking’s staff. So far, I’d found little to go by. No Gatekeeper in history had ever claimed a talisman, much less one as destructive as the Erlking’s staff, so Ilsa had suggested I might end up in the history books myself, assuming I lived that long. Personally, I’d rather go down in history as the Gatekeeper who freed her family from the curse, but after combing through so many books on Sidhe history, I knew more about the Sidhe’s various interrelated bloodlines than I did my own family’s.

  I didn’t remember falling asleep, but I woke under the hand-knitted throw on the sofa to Mum’s voice saying, “Lady Aiten is here to see you, Hazel.”

  “Ugh.” Had the Sidhe forgiven me already? A likely story. I pushed into an upright position, knocking a stack of cushions to the floor. Scraps of crumpled paper, empty plates of stale cookies and teetering piles of books occupied most of the remaining space, while on an armchair, a lump of blankets was all I could see of Ilsa.

  I pulled a glamour on to hide my rumpled clothes, wild hair, and the dark circles under my eyes and walked to the door. Yanking the door open, I looked blearily at my visitor. While Lady Aiten looked like she’d rolled out of bed pristine and shiny, the mirror on my left showed me I’d left a gap in my glamour which showed my bright pink bra strap. Great.

  “Lady Aiten.” I surreptitiously pulled my glamour into place. “You haven’t told the rest of the Sidhe Lord Daival kidnapped the Erlking’s sprite, have you?”

  “No,” she said. “I did tell Lord Raivan, as he is trustworthy and loyal to Summer, and unlikely to place the blame on either of us for the oversight.”