“At our last meeting, did I not make it clear what would happen to you if you were to return?”
“You did, your majesty,” said Tarian.
“Yet here you are.” Mab’s voice had gone hard.
Cassie’s palms felt clammy. Don’t just kneel there. Tell her it was my fault. But Tarian remained silent.
“Be merciful, I beg you,” blurted Cassie. All eyes swivelled to regard her, and she remembered Tarian’s instruction not to draw attention to herself. Oh well! She fought not to hunch her shoulders. In for a penny. “She only came back because of me, your majesty.”
“And who said you may speak?” Mab’s tone could have curdled fresh milk.
Cassie gave a nervous curtsey. “I apologise, your majesty, if I am breaking court protocol or something. But if Tarian won’t speak up for herself, I must.” She ignored Tarian’s warning glance. “She was reluctant to come back, but I persuaded her.”
“You?” barked the Queen, eyebrows raised. “I remember you, mortal.” She paused. “Are you always so careless of your champion’s welfare?”
Her remark bit Cassie to the bone, and she flushed. “It appears so, your majesty.”
Silence followed her pained admission, then Mab said, “What could you possibly have said or done that made Tarian agree to risk her life?” She sounded genuinely curious.
Cassie took a breath before answering. “I told her about the changeling.”
“Changeling?” Mab’s face darkened. She gestured at James, who until now had seemed beneath her notice. He went rigid, his eyes rolling in panic. What is she doing to him? wondered Cassie. After a moment James staggered and blinked at his surroundings with a look of dazed relief.
“You told the truth, it appears,” said Mab.
Cassie nodded. But Mab was no longer addressing her.
“He was stolen from his parents,” said Tarian. “A doll left in his place.”
“I saw the abductors’ faces in his mind.” Mab frowned. “Angor and Ysbail seem bent on causing me as much trouble as they did my father.”
“They’ve mistreated him for years,” interjected Cassie. “You only have to look at him.” She trailed off as Mab’s eyes pinned her. “We were only doing what’s right, your majesty. How can it be fair to penalise Tarian for that?”
Mab’s gaze lingered on her before returning to Tarian. “Do you agree?” she asked softly. “Should rescuing this mortal exempt you from punishment?”
Tarian replied just as softly, “No, your majesty.”
Her words made Cassie gasp. What was Tarian playing at? Mab’s reply gave Cassie her answer.
“A wise decision.” Mab gazed at the ruined watchtower, her expression distant. “For you know as well as I that a Queen’s authority rests on the obedience of her subjects. And those who flout it must be punished.” She came back to herself, and her voice hardened. “As must those who created a changeling against my express orders.”
For a moment Cassie pitied Angor and Ysbail, but only for a moment. An idea had come to her. “Your majesty,” she said, before she could think twice.
Mab turned an irritated glance her way. “How Tarian puts up with your babbling is beyond me. You are worse than a whining pup. What is it now?”
“This is my fault, your majesty.” Cassie tried to slow her racing pulse. I know you wanted me to stay out of this, love, but how can I? “I should pay the price, not Tarian.”
“You?” Mab’s exclamation drowned out Tarian’s protest. “Do you wish me to unmake you instead?”
“No!” yelped Cassie, before continuing in a more measured tone. “I have no wish to die before my time. But I could be your servant. Your lady in waiting, perhaps.”
Mab arched an eyebrow. “And never see your beloved Tarian again?”
Cassie hadn’t considered that. But if you unmake her I’ll lose her anyway. “If it will save Tarian’s life, then yes, your majesty.” She refused to meet Tarian’s eyes. This is hard enough as it is.
“I confess, I have no great desire to unmake my former champion,” said Mab. “But someone must be punished.” She pursed her lips and gave a small nod. “Very w—”
“I won’t allow such a sacrifice.” Tarian’s words drowned out the Queen’s.
“Won’t allow?” Mab’s back straightened, and her eyes gleamed. For a moment Cassie feared it was with fury, but Mab’s next words disabused her. “I was wondering where that spirit of yours had gone.” Her lips twitched with what looked like amusement.
Tarian got stiffly to her feet. Her glance flicked between Cassie and Mab. “Pardon my presumption, your majesty. May I offer a compromise?”
A sense of foreboding stole over Cassie.
Mab inclined her head. “I’m listening.”
“Take my immortality from me.”
Cassie’s gasp joined that of all the riders. From Cadel’s expression, even he considered this fate worse than being unmade.
“Your immortality,” repeated the Queen, startled. “You would forfeit that for a mortal?”
Tarian squared her shoulders. “I would, your majesty.” She smiled at Cassie. “But only for this particular mortal.”
Tears pricked Cassie’s eyes, and she bunched her hands into fists. I can’t let you do this! But what choice did she have?
“What you suggest is possible,” mused Mab, her gaze turning inwards, “but seldom done. I believe the last occasion was five centuries ago, during King Kynan’s reign. His great friend, Talyessin, betrayed him and should have been banished for it. But even after such treachery, Kynan could not bear to be forever parted from his friend.” She looked at Tarian. “It is written that later he regretted his decision.”
Tarian remained silent. Mab began to pace.
“To remove immortality requires a great working, a spell that only those of royal blood have the delicacy and power to cast.” She halted in front of Tarian, brows knitting. “Are you sure you desire this? I deem it a fitting punishment given the severity of your crime, but once done it cannot be undone.”
Tarian hesitated for only a moment. “I’m sure.”
“Very well.”
Straightening to her full height, Mab adopted a more formal tone and demeanour. “Tarian daughter of Brangwen daughter of Eyslk, for breaking your exile, I sentence you to lose your immortality.” She gestured at Cassie. “Join your companion while I prepare.”
TARIAN STRODE ACROSS the heath in silence, aware of Cassie’s concerned gaze. It had taken all her fortitude to remain unresisting while the pale green light of the Queen’s spell enveloped her. Considering its magnitude, the working hadn’t taken long, but by its completion she had given in to the urge to close her eyes, if only to block out the sight of Cassie’s distress. A hand had cupped her chin and lifted it. She opened her eyes to find Mab regarding her from close quarters, on her face an emotion Tarian had thought foreign to the Queen: pity.
“From this day forth, Tarian, you will age as mortals do.” Mab straightened and stepped back, as though distancing herself physically and mentally. Her expression changed, became cool and self-contained. “And as I have no wish to witness such an abomination, swear to me, upon your family’s honour, that you will never return.”
So Tarian had. She shivered, remembering. Never had the word “never” seemed so final.
A cold nose pushed itself into her palm, and she glanced down and saw Drysi regarding her with anxious eyes.
“I’m all right,” Tarian told her.
But she was far from certain. Mab’s mention of Talyessin had made her uneasy. He had been a notable worker of magic, who loved nothing more than to amaze and have his deeds recorded for posterity. After his immortality was stripped from him, however, there was no further mention of magic in the annals concerning him.
When you lose your immortality, do you lose your magic too? Tarian grimaced. Rather late to think of that now.
These past few weeks she’d been happier, more content, than she could remember
. Perhaps that was why, just recently, she had been thinking of something Einion said. “Mortals live but mayfly lives,” he had warned her. “Could you watch one grow old and die?”
The prospect of life without Cassie might have weighed heavily on Tarian if she’d let it, so she’d pushed it to the back of her mind. Relinquishing her immortality had seemed an answer of sorts—not much of a sacrifice at all. But if I’ve also lost my magic . . .
An image of Tarian kissing Cassie in the sitting room while Anwar looked on with approval popped into Tarian’s head—Anwar’s attempt at comfort. The link between mistress and dogs was as strong as ever.
“I have that, at least.” She patted Anwar’s head.
“Have what?” Cassie had caught Tarian’s mutter.
“Later,” said Tarian. “Let’s cross first.”
“You’re not still mad at me for offering to be her lady in waiting, are you?”
In truth, Cassie’s spur of the moment offer had horrified Tarian. She wouldn’t have put it past Mab to take Cassie up on it, just to enjoy seeing Tarian squirm. But she sighed and said, “No. I’m not still mad at you.”
Sunlight flashed off something in front of the watchtower on the hill. Tarian shaded her eyes. Armour. That group of figures must be Mab and the others, watching.
“Mab wouldn’t change her mind, would she?” asked Cassie, following her gaze.
“No.” Best not to chance it, though. Tarian increased her pace.
“Keep up, James,” called Cassie.
His energy reserves were meagre, and already his breathing was ragged, and he had pressed a fist into his side. In spite of her sense of urgency, Tarian took pity on him and slowed.
“I think I can feel it,” said Cassie, as they closed the distance to the shimmering boundary. From James’s puzzlement, he could feel it too.
Tarian reached for Cassie’s hand. “Grab hold of James. After all this, we don’t want him getting left behind.”
Cassie nodded. She beckoned, and when he was within reach gripped his hand.
Tarian pointed, and with a joyful woof the dogs bounded ahead. One moment they were there, the next they weren’t. James’s eyes widened, and he let out a whimper.
“Hush,” Cassie told him. “They’re all right. You’ll see them again in a moment.” She looked at Tarian. “Shall we?”
“Wait.” Tarian wanted to commit to memory as many of the sights, sounds, and smells of Faerie as she could: the wild heath with its splashes of yellow and purple; the clouds of butterflies and trilling song of the skylarks; the wild horses racing, the drumming of their hooves both heard and felt; and the red deer grazing in the distance. At last, the pine-covered slopes drew Tarian’s gaze towards the skyline, back to the crumbling watchtower and the figures standing in front of it.
She took in a last deep draught of the sweet-scented air, then smiled at Cassie and tightened her grip. “Now.”
Chapter 11
The glade was as they had left it, down to the scattering of blue and white petals. Tarian ignored the dogs cocking their legs against a tree and glanced up at the sky.
“Late afternoon.” She released Cassie’s hand.
Cassie turned to calm James. “It’s all right. You’re safe now. This is where you belong. This is Sutton Park.” She threw Tarian a wry glance. “Not that that will mean anything to him.”
“Where I belong,” he murmured, looking at his surroundings with new eyes.
The dogs bounded to Tarian’s side and nosed her for attention. She crouched and stroked their brindled coats, smoothed their sleek muzzles. She felt wrung out. Is this what being mortal feels like?
“We’re going to take you back to your parents,” said Cassie to James.
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” said Tarian.
An arm draped itself around her shoulders. “Are you all right?”
For a moment Tarian wondered whether to lie. But only for a moment. “I don’t know.”
James sat cross-legged on what had been their bedding and began to plait stalks of dry grass together.
“Do you feel,” Cassie paused, “different?”
“Tired, maybe.”
“That could just be stress.” Cassie played with a strand of Tarian’s hair. “At least you didn’t do a ‘She’ on us.” The corners of her eyes crinkled.
“What?”
“Get all wrinkled and crumble to dust. Rider Haggard? Never mind. Feeble attempt at humour. Sorry.”
They regarded one another in silence.
“Something’s scaring you half to death,” said Cassie. “What is it?”
Tarian was reluctant to put her fears into words. But Cassie held her gaze, her expression patient. “Mab’s spell may have stripped me of more than my immortality,” she said at last.
“What do you mean?”
“My Fae magic. I may no longer have it.”
Cassie frowned. “Is that a known side effect?”
Tarian straightened up, and Cassie did too. “Who knows? The archives contain hardly any mention of Fae who’ve had their immortality removed.”
Cassie gave her a considering look. “There’s only one way to find out, isn’t there? Have you tried talking to the dogs?”
Tarian nodded.
“And?”
“I still can.”
Cassie looked relieved. “Isn’t that magic?”
“I’m not sure,” said Tarian. “The dogs are from Faerie too.”
The compassion in Cassie’s eyes almost made Tarian want to weep. Snap out of it, she ordered herself.
“You know what you have to do,” said Cassie.
“Yes,” said Tarian grudgingly. “Try casting a spell.” But what if it doesn’t work?
Cassie nodded. “Start with something small. What about something even the Lesser Fae can do?”
Tarian exhaled. Cassie was right. She could manage Fae light, couldn’t she? “All right.”
But she couldn’t remember the spell or the glyph that went with it. Has Mab wiped it from my memory? She began to panic.
A squeeze of Cassie’s hand brought her back to her surroundings. “You’re hyperventilating,” said Cassie matter-of-factly. “Take a few deep breaths and calm down.”
With a sheepish look, Tarian did as she was told.
“And don’t think so hard. This is something you’ve known how to do since you were a child, isn’t it? Something that should be second nature to you. Like riding a bicycle.”
“Fae don’t ride bicycles.”
“You know what I mean.”
This time Tarian didn’t think, and as if they had a will of their own, she found her lips moving and her fingers tracing the design that had surfaced in her mind. In the middle of the glade, a small globe of pale blue light popped into existence, eliciting an exclamation from Cassie. James gave it a bored look and went back to his plaiting.
Tarian’s knees gave way, and she sat down hard in the middle of the glade. Anwar and Drysi licked her face, and for once she let them. She felt relieved beyond measure. Cassie flopped down next to her, pushed away the dogs, and gave her a hug. Tarian returned it.
“I should have known,” she said.
“Known what?” asked Cassie, relaxing against her.
“That Mab was too skilled to strip me of my magic by accident.”
“She could have done it deliberately. I wouldn’t have put it past her.”
“You forget, we were friends once. More than friends.”
“And you forget. She’s exiled you twice. That woman is one unstable bitch.”
Cassie’s vehemence startled Tarian into a grin. She waved the Fae light out of existence and glanced to where James was sitting. Belatedly she took in his battered appearance. With a gesture she dispelled the stench of pigs, then she invoked a healing spell. His bruises and cuts disappeared and his cheeks gained more colour—at the bone deep level, old hurts and fractures would be healing too. Seeing the spell work, Tarian let out a satisf
ied grunt.
James looked up, his expression a mixture of relief and confusion. He seemed aware that something had changed but unable to identify what it was. After a moment, he resumed his plaiting.
“That was kind,” said Cassie. “Angor could have done that, but I suppose he couldn’t be bothered.”
Tarian waited for the throbbing headache to ease. “I could erase his memories of Faerie too. But it seems a bad idea to take away what little memory he has. What do you think?”
Cassie’s expression reflected the pros and cons as they occurred to her. “You’re probably right.”
To Tarian’s relief, her own exhaustion seemed to be receding. Perhaps it had been, as Cassie said, stress. And fear. For a while longer they held one another, then with an exchange of smiles, they helped each other up and brushed off the dirt and bits of clinging leaf mould.
“So you still have your magic,” said Cassie, as they left the glade with James trailing after them. “If you can heal yourself, isn’t that as good as being immortal?”
“I can keep myself healthy,” said Tarian, calling up a protection spell for the three of them before ploughing through the middle of a holly thicket. “But I can’t keep ageing at bay.” She put an arm round Cassie’s shoulders. “I’m going to grow old alongside you, love. Whether you like it or not.” The thought brought satisfaction tinged with apprehension, but she pushed the latter aside. What’s done is done.
“And I was looking forward to people wondering why a gorgeous young thing like you was hanging out with a withered old bat like me.” Cassie cocked her head. “A grey streak like Susan Sontag’s would look gorgeous on you.”
“Like who?” Tarian glanced back to make sure James was keeping up.
“I keep forgetting that cultural references fly straight past you.” Cassie frowned. “It’s going to be worse for James. He didn’t even know his own name. You warned me our world might be too much of a shock, and you were right. There’s no way he’s going to be able to cope.”
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