by Lucy Fear
“I suggest you leave, sister, before I resort to the strawberry jam,” he said, his entire face red. She retreated, cackling with glee. Maeve watched the whole scene with a sort of amused bewilderment. Though it was embarrassing to think that their amorous activities were such common knowledge, she had never seen either of them so playful or carefree. It made her feel like she’d seen something special.
“Do your arguments always end in thrown food?” she asked, and he snorted, fetching the croissant from the floor and slathering it with butter.
“That was just playful sibling banter,” he assured her, though he still looked somewhat aggrieved. “But yes, food is a weapon of choice in this house. The only reason you haven’t seen it more often is because we were on our best behavior for guests. Now that you’re one of the family, so to speak, be prepared to defend yourself.” She didn’t think he was entirely serious, but she smiled. A family, a real family, was something she hadn’t understood until she came to the Court of the Heavens, but the thought that she might be part of Idris’s filled her with warmth.
He leaned back in his chair and reached out for her hand, pulling her closer once he’d gotten hold of it. “Come and sit with me,” he said, gathering her into his lap when she didn’t protest. “I don’t know what’s going to happen now,” he murmured against her hair. “I just want to have this one moment of peace before things get crazy again.” She leaned against his chest and felt him let out a long sigh. It was true that they had no way of guessing what Fenella would say. What if there really was no way to reverse the curse, or the only method was even more horrible? For the moment, she let herself forget all of it and focus on just being. The sun lingered on the horizon, turning everything to gold, and Idris ran his fingers slowly through her hair. From where she sat, she could see the healing wound on his neck that was left by her teeth. It reminded her, with a sudden fierce urgency, how fragile this time could be. She leaned her head against his chest and listened to his heart beating as they watched the sun sink into darkness amid a spectacle of ruby and scarlet light.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Luckily, Rhosyn seemed to feel she had teased them enough. When they arrived at dinner, holding hands, she grinned in a self-satisfied way but said nothing. Maeve thought Lord Aidan and Lady Rowan also seemed pleased, but then, they were so good at masking their emotions, she felt she couldn’t be sure. Still, they smiled, and everyone spoke about inconsequential things as they passed the food around. Prince Oisin told them all about a new spell he had mastered, something to do with making his clothes change color depending on the time of day, and just as he finished his story, Fenella entered the room. She looked slightly bedraggled but otherwise triumphant.
“I’ve figured out the source of the curse,” she said as she sat down at the table. Lady Rowan passed her a partly-filled plate of food.
“You should eat first. I think the curse can wait a few more minutes,” she said. Maeve squirmed in her chair, torn between her feeling that Fenella deserved the moment of respite, and the anxiety in her heart that demanded immediate answers. Idris took her hand under the table and squeezed it. It was a reminder that, whatever the curse had in store, he would be at her side. She went back to her meal, feeling at least a little less restless, and finally Fenella sat back with a sigh.
“So, the curse. We had already guessed that it started with the previous Lord, Maeve’s grandfather, Cormac,” she said, folding her hands together.
“That makes the most logical sense,” Aidan said. “The stories about the Court of Bones all started during his reign, and the curse seems to have spread only through his children.”
“Right. The real trick was finding out the when and the what. There are precious few fae around from when he ruled the court; many have been killed in the constant political intrigue and upheaval, and many more have fled. But finally, I found someone who remembered a story. The rumor said that Lord Cormac fell in love with a mortal girl.”
“That’s not too far-fetched. He might have even been one of the young nobles sent as part of the delegation to the mortal world with Queen Aine,” Lord Aidan replied thoughtfully. “He wasn’t so much older than I.”
“You’ve hit close to the mark,” Fenella said. “This girl caught the plague and died, as many mortals did in those days, but rather than mourn her and move on, Cormac vowed to bring her back. He traveled to the Underworld to beg the Cailleach to let him use the Cauldron of Rebirth to resurrect his lover.”
“No one has even heard of the Cauldron for ages… I thought it was a myth,” Rhosyn whispered.
“According to my source, it was, and still is, a real thing,” Fenella continued. “The Cailleach refused Cormac’s request, supposedly finding him unworthy. He didn’t take that very well, and tried to steal the Cauldron.”
“I assume the Cailleach cursed him and his line for the offense?” Aidan said, his face grave. “It explains the potency of the curse. If even half of the tales of her are true, she is a being both ancient and immensely powerful.”
“So what do we do?” Idris asked. His voice was firm and unafraid. Maeve loved him a little more for that. Fenella’s tale, while informative, had made her feel helpless and small. They had stories of the Cailleach in the Court of Bones, grim and bloody stories to make the children huddle under their covers and promise to behave, not the kind of things of which happy endings are made.
It was Lady Rowan that answered this time. “It seems to me that the first thing to do is try to negotiate with the Cailleach. Cormac might have deserved the curse for his disrespect, but surely even an ancient magical being can be made to see the cruelty of blighting the lives of children not yet born at the time of the crime.”
Lord Aidan raised his eyebrows. “I’m not entirely sure you can reason with a being like the Cailleach. It would be like trying to reason with death itself. But it is possible she could be enticed to participate in a trade. ‘A gift for a gift’ is one of the prime tenets of the Otherworld, after all. Even the gods of old were bound to the law of reciprocity.”
“But what would you give to an ancient being bent on vengeance?” Fenella wondered, tapping her chin. A good question. The undoing of a curse was not an insignificant favor, but when magic provided all one’s necessities, it took something really extraordinary to get one’s attention.
“I have a few ideas,” Aidan said, pursing his lips. “If all else fails, the least we can do is go and ask her.”
*****************************
As crazy as it sounded, that became the plan. Idris and Maeve would go together to the Underworld to try to persuade the Cailleach to accept their bargain. Only the fact that Idris would be going with her kept Maeve from wilting in terror, and she was still more than a little glad that they were taking a week to make preparations. The day after the decision was made, Lady Rowan invited her to a private lunch, and Maeve was glad for the distraction. Everyone was busy; Idris had left early in the morning to speak to his contacts in Serenalis, and once again, she felt at loose ends.
Even so, she couldn’t keep her hands from shaking as she entered the Lady’s personal garden. Idris’s mother was a kind and cheerful person, Maeve knew, but she was also one of the most powerful people in the three courts, both magically and politically. It was intimidating no matter how you looked at it. But Rowan smiled as Maeve approached the small table set up in the midst of all sorts of soothing and fragrant greenery, and she found herself relaxing, almost unconsciously. There was the sound of running water and birds singing in the background, and bees buzzed from flower to flower. It was so idyllic that it made Maeve suddenly long for a garden of her own.
“Have you been well?” Rowan asked as she passed her a mug of tea. “So much has been happening the past few days, but I’ve been meaning to ask if you’ve had any ill effects from taking Idris’s blood. It did release you from the curse, but since he is only half-mortal, there is always a possibility there could be a downside that manifests later.”
Maeve blinked in surprise. “I haven’t noticed anything.” In fact, she’d been feeling better than ever, but she knew most of that was psychological. She finally had a place in the world, with people who cared for her, and a man who loved her without conditions or restraint. Everyone was doing their best to help her be free of her family and their curse. It was difficult to imagine her life being more perfect, except, perhaps, to discover a greater purpose in life, and despite her frustration at being unable to help, she knew something like that would take time.
“Good,” Rowan said, nodding. “My husband believed that the chance for such a complication was small, but it never hurts to check. Please let us know if you notice anything strange.”
“I will, thank you,” Maeve said. “Everyone here has been so kind to me. I hardly know how I’ll ever be able to repay you.” It was something that bothered her, despite Idris’s reassurances. But, much like her son, Lady Rowan shook her head.
“There’s no reason to worry about that sort of thing,” she said with an easy smile. “We would have wanted to aid anyone in your situation, but seeing Idris happy is more than enough recompense for me. Besides, we’ve discovered that acts of kindness tend to magnify themselves. When you go out into the world, spreading the compassion that you once received, it allows us, in a sense, to do even more good than we could with our own hands. To build the world we’d like to see our children and grandchildren grow up in.” It was such a hopeful sentiment that Maeve found herself smiling. If only the world was filled with people like them. But that was sort of the point, wasn’t it?
“But I did not ask you here to talk about philosophy,” Rowan continued. “Idris tells me that you’re frustrated with your relative lack of skills and knowledge. He seemed to think you could use my advice.”
It was a little difficult to talk about this to someone like the Lady, who was powerful, respected, and seemed competent at everything, but she too had come to the court as a young woman, a mortal who, if Fenella’s description was even slightly accurate, had to fight for every scrap of independence she ever had. If anyone would understand Maeve’s predicament, it would be her. She took a deep breath. “It’s just… when I ran away, I realized I don’t know how to do anything. I couldn’t even light a fire for myself because that wasn’t considered a kind of magic I needed to know. And then, I came here and saw how everyone has some special skill or gifts that allow them to contribute. I want that too. I don’t want Idris to have to rescue me forever.”
“I don’t think he wants that for you either,” Rowan replied gently. “There’s many things you can do to improve your basic skills and knowledge, if that’s all you’re interested in. You’re always welcome in the estate’s library, of course, and if you want training in a specific type of magic, you need only ask. Fenella can teach you basic healing and combat spells to start off.” She folded her arms and reached up to tap her chin with a finger. “But I have a feeling that’s not what you really want. You’re talking about an occupation. A calling. Tell me something, Maeve. Is there anything that interests you?”
“Interests me?” It felt like a strange question. There were many things that interested her, but none of them seemed like something she could turn into a lifetime of work.
“I don’t mean in the transitory sort of way that a good book is interesting. But something that draws you to know more, to do more, to build on what you see in order to make it better. When I was young, it was magic. Of course, that seems silly in the Otherworld. Practically everything here is made of magic. But what I wanted was to know all the magic there was to know, to create spells no one had ever seen before. That’s the kind of thing that carries you through the years. Don’t worry if you don’t find it right away, but that’s what you ought to be looking for.”
Maeve couldn’t think of anything that made her feel that way. Even music to her was more of an enjoyable hobby than a passion. “Does everyone find it?” she asked, thinking to herself that Idris hardly seemed to have more direction than she did. It was only that he was skilled enough to keep himself occupied.
“I’d say that mostly the Aos Si do eventually, if they live long enough. We have the advantage on mortals because we have so much time available to us, and very little need to struggle for our basic survival. For many of us, it’s not just one thing but a series of passions that changes as we age. But you were thinking about my son when you asked,” Rowan said with a knowing smile. Maeve blushed as the Lady continued to speak.
“I think you’re correct that Idris takes no particular joy in the duties he undertakes for us. He just hates to be idle, and helping the nature spirits allows him to keep busy as well as doing real good. I’m hoping that your arrival is the change he needs to discover what he truly wants. But,” she said, holding up a finger, “you should concentrate on yourself for now. You can’t force anyone to grow if they’re determined not to, but I believe Idris will figure things out on his own. All he needs is your presence and support, as much as you need his. In the meantime, I can see if Fenella can make time to teach you a few things. Although, if it doesn’t bother you to take lessons with a child, you could join Oisin in his daily sessions. He’s just at the point of broadening his general knowledge that might be of benefit to you.”
Maeve hated to feel like she was giving everyone even more work to do, and she was not a particularly proud person. Oisin was a sweet boy, and she knew he would not judge her. “Actually, that sounds perfect,” she said with a sigh of relief.
**********************
The next day, she came to the library after lunch, and went to a small room in the back that served as a classroom. Rowan had explained that Oisin was actually taught by all members of the family and some of the estate staff in an informal rotation. Today, the teacher was Fenella, and the subject was the geopolitical basics of the Otherworld.
“Oisin, please tell us everything you can remember about the three courts and their rulers,” Fenella said, after drawing a diagram of three linked circles on the chalkboard. Each one had a symbol that even Maeve recognized: one star, one cresting wave, one skull.
“Everything?” Prince Oisin asked with a too wide smile. Fenella scowled.
“I don’t want to know everything you know about your own parents, young man. Just their names will suffice.” Maeve smiled slightly.
“Okay, okay. The Court of the Heavens is ruled by Lord Aidan and Lady Rowan. They have three children together, with no other heirs. The Court of Waves is ruled by Lady Aine alone. She has had many children in the mortal realm, but her only known heir is Prince Meirion, who is currently missing. The Court of Bones is ruled by Lord Cian alone, his consort Lady Brigit having died some years ago. His acknowledged heir is Prince Conall, but he has one other known child, a daughter named Maeve.” Oisin flashed her a smile.
“That’s correct,” Fenella said. “The three courts function autonomously for the most part, but will convene a full council in the case of contested succession. There used to be a ruler over the entire Otherworld, but it has been millennia since the throne has even appeared.” Strange as it sounded, Maeve had heard of the disappearing throne of the king. But there was one question she wanted to have answered.
“But what about the Underworld? How is that connected to everything else?” she asked. Oisin leaned forward with interest.
“I suppose you ought to know, since you’ll be traveling there,” Fenella said, and she turned to the chalkboard and began to draw again. “The mortal world is also constructed of three realms, but rather than being three similar planes that overlap each other around a central spoke, they lie on top of each other, like pages in a book. The middle realm is the one on which humans and other mortal creatures live their lives. The true Heavens, the Celestial realm, is said to be where the gods originated. No one knows how to get there or even if it still exists. The Underworld is where the spirits of the mortal dead reside before they are reborn.”
“So it’s connected
to the mortal world, not here?” Maeve asked with a frown. The idea of returning to the mortal world made her uneasy. Her last trip hadn’t exactly been pleasant. She worried what would happen if the next new moon came while they were there. Would Idris be able to keep her from hurting anyone on his own?
“There is a connection directly to the Underworld in the Court of Bones. It’s in the borderlands, quite far away from your father’s fortress. I assume that’s the entrance you’ll be using.”
Maeve didn’t want to go to the mortal world, but she wanted to be back in the Court of Bones even less. It preyed on her mind for the rest of the day, and Idris must have noticed. They walked back toward her bedroom so she could pick up some clothes, which had become their routine, but instead of standing by the door as he usually did, Idris sat on the edge of her bed. When she walked by, he grabbed her hand and tugged her toward him.
“So, are you going to tell me what’s bothering you? You’ve been in your own world ever since I came back from Serenalis,” he said, reaching up to brush her hair away from her face. Just the feeling of his arm around her back was enough to let some of the tension drain way.
“I’m sorry if I’ve been strange, Idris. It’s just that Fenella told me that the easiest way into the Underworld is through the Court of Bones, and I…” She hated to admit that it scared her. It made her feel like a child, especially when she wanted so much to be able to stand on her own two feet.
But he wrapped both arms around her and kissed her cheek. “You don’t need to apologize. I know this has to be difficult for you. I promise, I will never let him hurt you again.” She wanted to believe him, but she had grown up believing her father to be invincible and all-powerful. It was a hard habit to break.
“But what if—?” she started to protest. Her mind had not been idle in spinning up terrifying and unlikely scenarios involving a confrontation with Lord Cian, but Idris had no intention of letting her give voice to them.
