“I did.” Though I’m having a lot of regrets right now. “Where is the Lord of Thorns?”
“He will come in time.”
“How much time? I need my beauty sleep.” I was bloody exhausted after the day I’d had, and despite the abundance of food on offer, my appetite was non-existent. Luckily, the toga-wearing Sidhe had wandered off, leaving me with the newcomer.
He leaned closer. “You may dance with us all night, human, and feel none of it tomorrow. The king will rise from the ashes and bless us all with his presence.”
Uh-huh.
The music grew louder, and as the Sidhe paired off, I let the newcomer pull me into a dance. “When you say rise from the ashes, do you mean that in a literal sense?”
Unbidden, the image of the former Winter Gatekeeper turning into a wraith filled my mind. No way. Even they wouldn’t be that stupid.
He took my hand and twirled me with such speed that I found myself glad I hadn’t imbibed any of the faerie wine. I staggered away, and Coral caught my arm, helping me catch my balance.
“Willow saw something,” she whispered. “And I thought you needed rescuing.”
“Cheers.” I gladly left the dance floor with Coral to walk over to Willow, a pretty half-Sidhe with olive skin and dark hair. She wore a white dress patterned with wildflowers. “Did she get an invite, too?”
“I invited her,” Coral admitted. “To help spy on the enemy. We need as many eyes as possible.”
“Are you sure that was your only motive?” I grinned at her. I knew the two had hit it off, but not that they were still in contact now Coral had become their heir of the Sea Court. Anything that took her mind off her brother’s fate was a good thing, as far as I was concerned.
A flush darkened her cheeks. “No, but she did see some of the cultists acting oddly. Odder than usual, I mean.”
“Hey.” I smiled at Willow. “What did you see?”
She gave a nervous glance at the buffet table. “Some of the Sidhe were moving barrels around the tunnel back there, and… it might have been a trick of the light, but I swear one of the barrels was full of blood.”
Blood? My stomach lurched. “Uh, whose blood?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “Not Sidhe. Smelled fresh, though.”
“What’re they doing, summoning a redcap contingent?”
The word summoning blared through my mind like an alarm bell. My siblings dealt with enough summoning-related trouble at the necromancer guild to know that any magic involving blood in any capacity was bad news. When I’d thought of human sacrifice earlier, I hadn’t actually expected it.
I made my way to the wine barrels, snatching up a glass on the pretext of filling it with elf wine. Stepping around the barrels at the front, I walked towards the back, which extended into a dark tunnel.
A pair of bright green eyes shone from the gloom, resolving into the shadowy form of a cloaked Sidhe lurking behind the barrels. “What are you doing, mortal?”
“Oh, sorry.” I gave a giggle. “I’m afraid I’m lost.”
The Sidhe eyed the wine glass in my hand. “The wine barrels are over there.”
“I heard you were keeping the good stuff back here.” I gave another giggle, my gaze darting to the barrel to the left of me. One glimpse of the crimson liquid inside the barrel confirmed Willow’s suspicions.
“Who told you that?” The cloaked Sidhe took another step closer to me, his hood slipping over his pointed ears. “Get out of here.”
I leaned over the barrel and feigned a gasp. “Is that blood? What are you doing with that?”
I raised my voice loudly enough to reach the Sidhe near the wine barrels. The music quietened, but two more cloaked Sidhe stepped in to join their companion.
“Keep her quiet,” one of them hissed.
A pair of hands clamped over my shoulders. Quick as a flash, I spun, kicking the intruder in the shins. His grip broke, and I rammed an elbow into his throat. I saw Coral weaving through the crowd towards me, but a wall of cloaked Sidhe blocked her way, trapping me in the narrow tunnel with the barrels.
“Whatever you’re hoping for, it won’t work,” I warned them. “Only necromancers or witches can use blood magic, and it doesn’t work with whatever that is. Also, using blood magic this close to the Ley Line is more likely to send you into Death than bring anyone back.”
“I told you we needed fresh blood,” said the cloaked Sidhe on the right.
Ack. “Didn’t you hear a word I said?”
The point of a sharp blade kissed my throat. “Your blood will fuel this sacrifice, and the king shall rise again.”
You have got to be shitting me. They thought they were raising the Erlking, but blood sacrifices tapped into dimensions beyond death, ones which made Faerie look like a paradise. It was bad enough when humans tried to raise the dead, but faeries had zero understanding of the boundaries of life and death here in the mortal realm. They must have heard some version of the truth—that the Ancients’ blood bestowed immortality—and had sought to recreate it.
The slight problem was that they’d got the source wrong. The blood in the barrel didn’t belong to a god, and neither did mine, but using me as a blood sacrifice on the Ley Line might well kill every single person in this cave.
12
Think, Hazel. Four or five cloaked Sidhe surrounded me, while the barrels of blood or wine blocked my escape route. A sharp pain stung my neck, and I leaned back from the blade’s edge, calling on my Gatekeeper’s magic. Aiming the green glow at the earthen floor, I searched for any signs of life beneath the ground.
As my Summer magic reached below the earth, a torrent of roots burst upwards into the cave. Feeding more magic into the roots, I willed them to grow faster, thrusting like spears from the cave walls and ceiling. Fragments of soil rained on our heads, splashing into the wine barrels.
The hooded Sidhe wielding the blade backed up a step. “Stop that, human.”
Too late. The roots continued to grow, fuelled by my Gatekeeper’s magic. The music jarred to a crashing halt, while the dancing broke up, shouts of alarm echoing off the ceiling.
“The cave’s collapsing!” someone yelled.
Might have overdone it a little.
I threw up a shield above my head and shoved my way through the cloaked Sidhe. They let me run, trying in vain to drag the wine barrels out of range of the falling earth. Emerging into the main cave, I grabbed Coral’s arm and pulled her after me into the crowd of fleeing faeries.
Roots popped out the earth, knocking over the guests like skittles, while the despairing shouts of the panicking Sidhe came from the very back of the cave.
“Serve them right if they get buried along with their precious wine barrels.” I elbowed past the hooded cultist who’d danced with me earlier and let Coral and Willow overtake me, glancing behind to make sure the Sidhe hadn’t resumed their attempt at blood magic.
From the back of the cave, a bubbling crash sounded, and a torrent of wine swept through the cave, swirling around our ankles. That was enough for the remaining Sidhe, who joined the crush of people fleeing the cave. Winged piskies, cloaked cultists and bewildered humans tripped over one another in an effort to get outside.
When we reached the mouth of the cave, I ducked after Coral and Willow, emerging onto the hillside. A wave of earthy wine followed, flowing down the grass and into darkness.
“There’ll be some really drunk highland cows wandering around here for the next week,” I remarked. “I didn’t mean to bring the whole place crashing down.”
“I’d take a collapsing tunnel over a blood sacrifice.” Coral reached for Willow and brushed earth from her shoulder.
“You ruined everything,” said a dishevelled half-Sidhe whose wine-dampened hair clung to her face like seaweed. It took me a moment to recognise her as Aila.
“You’re welcome.” I scanned the guests for Holly but saw no signs of her. Given our proximity to the Ley Line, I wouldn’t blame her if she’d sneaked
back home early. Watching Aila leave, I turned to Coral. “You didn’t invite her, too, did you?”
“Of course not,” said Coral, shaking wine droplets off her cloak. “I suppose she thought it an honour to get an invitation.”
“That, or she’s joined the cult.” It wouldn’t surprise me. Aila was the sort of half-faerie who bore a bitter and irrational hatred towards humans, as though she blamed us for her own mortality. She’d despised me without reason ever since I’d first set foot in Summer. A cult dedicated to immortality would be right up her alley.
Lights flared on the hillside, heralding the arrival of several Sidhe on horseback. Lord Raivan led the way, stopping at a safe distance from the flowing wine river, and the cultists continuing to wade out of the cave.
What a waste of time. The bloody Lord of Thorns wasn't even here, and we hadn’t found the Erlking’s sprite, either. Where had Lord Daival sneaked off to in the time that had passed since I’d seen him in the memory-eater’s vision? For all I knew, she’d been trolling me and had shown me a memory from a week ago. That’s what I got for expecting anything remotely helpful from a faerie.
Coral nudged me. “Look who’s here.”
Darrow caught up to the Sidhe, and he looked pissed. Uh-oh. I’d bet he’d pressured Lord Raivan to tell him everything, and he was not pleased that I hadn’t chosen to confide in him.
Sighing inwardly, I walked over to him. “Fancy meeting you here.”
Darrow eyed the collapsed cave under the hill and the river of elf wine trickling out. “Your work, I presume?”
“The outcasts planned to enact a necromantic ritual, with no knowledge of necromancy,” I said. “It went about as well for them as you’d expect.”
“How long have you known?” he said. “Is this what the memory-eater showed you?”
“Does it matter? Lord Daival wasn’t even here.” Why did he have to butt into every part of my life? It wasn’t as though I was the one trying to conduct necromantic rituals on the Ley Line or start a cult to raise a dead man. “He’s probably sipping wine on a desert island laughing at us. I really thought we had him.”
My forehead gave a sudden throb, and green light flared from my circlet like a torchlight in the darkness.
Darrow frowned. “What—?”
“It’s a warning.” My gaze fell on a dark shape hovering above the Ley Line. A wraith. “The bastard went after my family.”
Darrow made to follow me, but I shook my head at him. “Go back and tell the Sidhe there might be an attack on Summer’s gate.”
“Why?” he asked. “They can help you—”
“Like hell they can,” I said. “This is personal. If Lord Daival is on my family’s property, I’ll kill him myself.”
I could only hope he decided I’d acted out of reckless bravado and nothing more, but I didn’t have time to conjure a better excuse. I broke into a full-on sprint into the Ley Line’s path, crossing over to the Lynn house. Following the tug of the circlet’s warning magic, I leapt over the fence and sprinted around the manor to the back garden.
On the lawn, Lord Daival stood over Mum, thorny vines flowing from his hands and wrapping around her ankles and wrists. Her hands and arms were bleeding, and an iron knife lay at her feet. I snatched it up and pointed it at Lord Daival’s throat. Fucking talismans.
“Get away from her,” I growled. “I thought your Queen wanted me to rule at her side, not turn you into a pincushion for attacking my mother.”
“You should be dead,” he said, unconcerned by the iron’s proximity. From the bright glow of his thorns, they were the product of a talisman’s magic, subtle enough to get around our family’s shield.
“You’d be dead, too, if their attempt to sacrifice me had worked.” I thrust the knife at him, but the thorns rose into the air, yanking the knife from my grip and tossing it away. “Didn’t you even bother to read a basic guidebook before forcing your people to use necromancy on your behalf? Or didn’t you care if they brought about a second faerie invasion?”
I pushed my Gatekeeper’s magic at his thorns, demanding they release Mum, but they held fast. Gritting her teeth, she kicked the knife back towards me, only for more thorns to materialise and tug it away once more. Sweat stood out on her forehead, while blood slicked her wrists and ankles.
“Let. Her. Go.” With each word, I pushed more magic into the thorns, drawing on the power of my circlet, but Lord Daival simply conjured more thorns in each hand. When Mum broke free, a fresh pair of vines ensnared her, gripping tight.
Then a blanket of icy cold fell over the lawn, followed by a shadowy form. Oh, there’s the wraith.
“Go to Edinburgh,” Lord Daival commanded the hovering dark shape. “I’m sure your siblings will have sensed the disturbance on the Ley Line by now, Hazel. They’ll be right in the wraith’s path.”
“What the hell did they ever do to you?” I spat, resuming my attack on his thorny vines.
“Your family is the reason for my imprisonment,” he said. “You wronged my queen, and you’ll pay for it.”
Damn him. He hadn’t just been trying to summon the dead—his intention had been to draw Ilsa and Morgan’s attention to the Ley Line and punish my entire family in one instant. My circlet ignited in tandem with my rising anger, and the thorns binding Mum’s wrists released her.
Lord Daival went for me instead, thorn-coated blades in each hand. I dodged one, but the edge of the other nicked my arm, drawing blood. Cold magic brushed my skin, signalling the wraith’s presence. I can’t fight them both at once.
The wraith gave a sudden, piercing scream. The sound ripped through my eardrums, and a whirlwind of icy air tore the grass from its roots and the leaves off the bushes. Lord Daival stopped mid-strike as a wave of shadows engulfed the struggling wraith.
“What is this?”
The wraith’s icy magic vanished beneath the shadows, and its struggling screams died to nothing, revealing silence behind. Even Lord Daival stood frozen to the spot, his expression transfixed, his thorny blades dangling at his sides. The lawn was a wreck, the hedges stripped to the bones, and the Inner Garden lay open for all to see.
Even from a distance, the waters appeared cloudy and dull, the staff floating on the surface in a pool of shadows.
“It cannot be,” murmured Lord Daival.
No.
Panic drove me forward, a knife in my hand. He tore his gaze from the talisman and deflected my blow with the side of his left-hand blade. The right blade swiped at my hip, sending thorns to ensnare my ankles. I tripped, stumbling on the spot, as he spun out of reach of my knife.
Mum lunged at him from behind, but he darted out of reach, too fast for her to catch. Thorny vines entangled my feet, climbing up my legs and piercing the skin underneath.
Lord Daival’s second blade clashed with mine, and a second tendril of thorns wrapped around my upper arms. The vines crept higher, poking through the thin fabric of my dress, as his blade skimmed my throat. “Surrender.”
“I claimed the talisman,” I gritted out. “If you strike me dead, the talisman’s magic will destroy you before you can deal the final blow.”
I hope. The talisman’s shadows hadn’t stopped him tying me up with thorny ropes or devoured him like they had the wraith. What was it playing at? Go on. Kill him.
“You led the Sidhe to believe the staff was lost,” he said. “Devious work, for a human. However, I would like to know how you tricked it into serving you.”
His gaze slipped to the talisman, and I brought my knee up into his groin. The thorns’ sharp pain deepened, but Lord Daival staggered, cursing, right into the path of Mum’s knife. The blade sank into his shoulder from behind. At once, his face greyed with the effects of the iron, while the thorny vines relinquished their grip on me. An alarming amount of blood soaked through my dress, trickling down my bare arms and legs.
“Get him!” I yelled at Mum. “Hit his heart this time.”
Lord Daival roared in fury, pulling the
knife from his shoulder and throwing it at me. I dove to the ground to avoid it, right onto a bed of thorns. My vision turned fuzzy, my limbs heavy and throbbing with pain.
“You will yield the talisman to me,” said Lord Daival. “For every day you fail to surrender, a new potential heir will die. This, I promise you.”
“Go fuck yourself with a thorn bush.” I lifted my head, willing my body to move. Blood darkened the grass around me. Too much blood. I tried to reach for my weapon, but my hand closed on empty air. My vision faded in and out, and when it cleared, Lord Daival had vanished.
“He hopped through the Ley Line.” Mum stood over me. “Hazel. Stay with me.”
Her hand grasped my wrist and released it at once. Shadows curled up my arms and around my hands, caressing me like a cool breath of air.
“Stop that!” I gasped. “Don’t you dare attack my mother.”
The shadowy tendrils of magic tightened, tugging my body across the lawn. Mum cursed, grabbing for my arm, but I shook my head, understanding what the talisman was doing.
A moment later, the waters of the healing pool closed over my head, and all went dark.
“The water healed all your injuries,” said Mum. “That’s the good news.”
“The bad news is that Lord Daival saw the talisman.” And it was more the talisman’s fault than mine. The bloody thing had been trying to get the world’s attention ever since I’d left it in the grove and would have probably hopped out of the waters and terrified some poor human next, but that didn’t stop me from feeling like I should have done more to stop it. “And it tried to attack you.”
I’m in way over my head with this one.
I lay under a blanket on the sofa and sipped at a mug of a blood-replenishing potion Mum had insisted on making me. It tasted of ogre piss, but after a few sips, I felt less shaky and more like chasing down Lord Daival. After a nap, that is.
“It didn’t, Hazel,” said Mum, draining the rest of her own mug. I’d insisted she got into the waters as soon as I’d regained consciousness, and the marks from Lord Daival’s attack had faded from her wrists. “The talisman pushed me away from you, yes, but I didn’t feel any adverse effects from its magic.”
The Gatekeeper's Trials: The Complete Trilogy Page 34
