The Wild Curse (Faerie Sworn Book 2)

by Ron C. Nieto

  He led the way and they found the creek just where he said it would be, surrounded by mud just as he had predicted. It was tiny, less a creek and more a trickle of water, but at least it was fresh, clear, and cold. Lily squelched her way to crouch by it and splashed several handfuls on her face. It stung her cheeks and clung to her lashes, and she took her time blinking it out and looking about.

  The land felt familiar, but not enough for her to recognize where she was. She wasn’t even sure she knew in which direction they’d find the Horn and the hunter.

  “Are you capable of finding your way back or do you require assistance?”

  She turned her attention toward Troy. He stood down the current, ankle-deep in it, his body already turned away from her.

  “I think I can make it,” she said. “It’s more or less a straight line, and I didn’t see many other boulders. It should be easy to find. What about you? Where will you be if I need you?”

  That made him look at her, a hint of his usual humor dancing in his eyes and kicking up the corner of his lips. “You only need to sleep, Lily. I have every confidence you shall manage on your own.”

  Lily blushed, but she tried again. “What if some faerie shows up? Like the redcaps.”

  “You are on their side now. There is no reason to fear the monsters anymore.”

  “Perhaps they didn’t get the memo.”

  “Stubborn woman.” He laughed, and Lily couldn’t tell if it was at her or along with her. “Have it your way, then. If you have need of me, I shall be here.”

  “Here. In the mud.”

  “Here, in the water.”

  She took in their surroundings again.

  No, they haven’t become more hospitable in the last five seconds. Okay, never mind. Stop questioning it, Lily! You just need to know where he’ll be so you can avoid him.

  “All right. Take care, then. And have a good night.”

  “To you as well, Lily Boyd.” Her Name reached her light as a whisper, dismissing her from his presence. The power of his words settled over her like a warm blanket, softening the edges of her worries and easing the ache of her muscles. Even her hunger dulled, and she sighed before picking up her pace due to an embarrassment that refused to solidify into anything more serious than a mild startled curiosity.

  So that’s what good wishes feel like, she thought as she reached and walked past the boulder. That’s what it’s like when someone means what they say.

  It feels good.

  So good, in fact, that it managed to quell any remorse she might have felt when she started calling for One.

  “Noisy, noisy, noisy!” The small sprite-like faerie that acted as contact with Cadowain arrowed out of nowhere and hovered a few scant inches in front of Lily’s nose. “Everyone will hear!”

  Lily sagged with relief. The last vestiges of the sun had disappeared a good while before and the night had changed her surroundings, turning them bleak and lonely instead of magical and private. Having some moonlight might have helped, but as usual, the sky was overcast and the world had been bathed in colorless shades of gray. She hadn’t dared move farther away from her designated refuge for fear of being unable to find her way back, but she had been despairing of ever finding One. Finally meeting her took a weight off her shoulders—even if it replaced it with another on her chest.

  “Everyone but you,” she countered. “I have been calling for you for ages.”

  One harrumphed and buzzed in place. “And why would I have come? You have not kept to the bargain you made.”

  “I haven’t kept to the plan,” said Lily, putting as much emphasis as she could into the word. Words were everything, it seemed, and she was banking everything on using them right for a change. “There were complications. But I have every intention to keep the bargain, which is why you should have come sooner. We need a new plan.”

  “Oh, will you keep it now? I see you cavorting with the dark ones. Or were you not traipsing after a kelpie all day long? Do you not plan to join with yet another Unseelie creature come morning?”

  “That other Unseelie creature has the Horn, and this is the best way for me to get it back. We have to figure out what to do once I recover it.”

  “And why does it have the Horn, when you were the one supposed to find it, uh?” One crossed her arms and tapped her foot in the air.

  “Because you tore a path through the realms and that was noisy.” Lily took a deep breath, exhaled, and looked over her shoulder. No movement. No Troy. Good. “Look, I can still keep my part of the bargain. I grab the Horn, put it somewhere safe, tell you, you tell Cadowain, he frees Grandma, Grandma hides the Horn again. Everyone thinks she no longer has a clue about it, and it is safe. Easy. We just need to agree on a new meeting point or some form of communication or something.”

  “That is silly! That plan would only work if you were quiet about it! The kelpie knows you know about the Horn now, and he knows your True Name. How long will it take him to figure out you made off with it, do you think? The moment you try to hide it, he will just order you to fetch it back! There will be no time for Cadowain to tell you where the Doctor is, much less to put it somewhere safe.” Each sentence was spoken faster than the last, until each word poured over the next in a flurry of speech. One began to fly in tight circles around Lily, as if the movement helped filter some of the distress brought on by the situation. “It is impossible, the bargain is forfeit!”

  “It’s not. I have an idea, okay? I have a way.”

  “Really? What is it?”

  Lily swallowed and forced her fists to unclench. Tiny half-moon cuts would surely appear on her palms come morning. She rubbed her arms, as if that would erase the marks from her hands.

  “You don’t need to know,” she said. “I’ll manage to undo the power Troy—the kelpie has over me, and that’s all that matters. You just have to give me a way to get in touch when the time comes.”

  “The little human attempts to do the impossible. Does One believe in her?” The faerie hovered in front of Lily once more and stared at her with luminescent dark eyes that, for once, belied the playfulness of her manner. “Why yes, I believe One does!”

  With a flourish, One produced a fine golden cord, soft and slender, and as warm as a spring day. Gliding closer, she began to twine it around the clasp of Troy’s necklace.

  “A glamour around a glamour,” she said with a wicked grin as her charm sunk into Troy’s. “This one is already spent, its purpose served, so the silly kelpie will never know the hands of Summer touched it. This way, you only ever need to take this trinket off when you have freed yourself of his influence, and I will know. Easy, is it not? Discard his gift when you have discarded his control over you.”

  Lily stayed very still to keep her hands from snatching the necklace back and her lips from demanding a different way of communication. Her options were limited, and she’d rather not push her luck any further.

  “Are you sure he won’t notice? What about the other Unseelie faeries?” she said instead when One flew back to admire her handiwork.

  “They will remain absolutely clueless! That is the beauty of it. The kelpie no longer owns this trinket—he gave up his control over it when he chose to give it permanent physical shape. He will be unable to feel my tampering, while the remnants of the disgusting glamour used to create it are more than enough to hide any hint of me from the rest of his ilk.”

  “All right.” Lily took a deep breath. “I should get to my part of the deal then.”

  She turned and walked back toward the boulder and the tree as silently as she could. The clasp of the necklace against her throat felt heavy as lead, but she curled up on the floor and pushed the feeling from her mind. She had lost a lot of time, and she needed to get as much rest as possible in preparation for the following day.

  Somehow, she had managed to salvage her plan. She would not fail a second time.

  C H A P T E R V

  “Did you sleep well?”

  The words
seeped into her dreams and dissolved them, sending the restless tendrils of nightmare and worry far beyond the reaches of her conscious mind. She came to with a start, unable to remember the night visions that had soaked the small of her back in cold sweat and feeling as if she had barely closed her eyes for a blink.

  “Not really,” she croaked. “It’s hard to rest when you’re sleeping alone in the forest, surrounded by who knows what.”

  “Do you imply you feel more comfortable sleeping with the known monster?” Troy’s easy smirk grew into a full-fledged wicked grin that reached his eyes.

  “I—” Yes. “You need to stop crowding me. It’s rude.”

  Troy didn’t move an inch from his crouch. The amusement didn’t drain from his features either as he stared at her, making Lily aware of the cool, damp stone against her back and the knotted roots digging into her side. She tensed, the instinct to uncurl, dust herself off, and just stop gazing up at him as if she were mellow prey fighting a losing battle with the need to safeguard whatever meager personal space he’d left her.

  “You worry and fuss about the most interesting things,” he said after a moment. “You would do well to pay as much attention to your words and actions as you do your mortal manners.”

  Still not stepping back, he rose in a languid movement and held out a hand for her to take. She did, hesitating just barely, and he pulled her up. Her back had a bad kink, and her muscles screamed from the tight ball she had curled into for sleep. The ambient humidity did very little to ease the myriad aches soaking into her bones, and she grimaced as she stood, bumping against the boulder at her back, the tree at her side, and his body everywhere else.

  “What have I said this time?” she asked, partly curious and partly to cover the embarrassing hitch of her breath.

  “Not a thing,” he replied, still grinning. Still provoking, still playful.

  “Usually, you only look this amused when I’ve done something stupid.”

  “Do I?” Troy reached out and plucked something from her hair. He flicked it back over his shoulder, and Lily prayed it had only been a dry leaf or tiny twig. “I shall endeavor to be more open displaying my amusement at random times from now on.”

  “There’s nothing random about it,” Lily said, narrowing her eyes as it clicked in her mind. “It’s because we’re meeting the Royal Hunter, isn’t it? You did the same thing in front of Glaistig, and then again when we met the Seelie guards. You go all faerie.” She gestured, trying to encompass all of him. “All derisive humor and aloof attitude, as if you were playing the world, and you—”

  Troy’s index fingertip tapped twice on her lips and she froze. It wasn’t about obeying his silent command, or about him muttering her name and telling her to stop. It wasn’t about her brain catching up with her words and realizing she had overstepped the boundaries of what a faerie would want a mortal to know.

  No, that would’ve meant he silenced her somehow, when it had been all her.

  One light touch, one wicked smirk lighting up his eyes like emerald fire, and the words deserted her.

  The whole theory deserted her.

  “So very perceptive of you,” he said, the words a pleased purr. “What else might you have noticed?”

  “You’re always cold,” she said, her lips still feeling the coolness. “And you’re dripping. You used to be wet a lot, but you’re wetter now. All the time.”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  Troy reached out and ran a single finger down her cheek. A tiny droplet of water followed his feather touch, then veered to the side and caught at the corner of her mouth. He stared at it for a moment, before turning and walking away.

  “Come,” he said, looking back over his shoulder. “As I said, it is unwise to make the Royal Hunter wait.”

  Lily shook herself and hurried to catch up. His pace seemed leisured, comfortable, and it misled about his speed.

  “Aren’t you going to tell me anything else? What to expect from him or something?” she asked his back the moment she caught up.

  He didn’t turn around this time. “I believe I have offered more than enough answers to establish my good will.”

  He had. The previous day he had been so open she had forgotten information was the coin faeries bartered with.

  He almost seemed human.

  Lily bit her lip. The reprieve, it seemed, was over. This was the world of faeries, and she took a deep breath to steel herself against it.

  When they reached Aboyne’s parish church, Troy stayed under the heavy canopy of the trees. The gray light of dawn pierced the soft veiling clouds of early morning and shimmered over fresh dew covering ancient stone and vibrant wildlife, pulling the world ever so slowly from its dreams and into life through a single, perfect moment of breathtaking magic.

  “Here we are,” he said.

  C H A P T E R VI

  “You took your time to return.”

  Lily gasped, her body going rigid, and turned as slowly as she could manage toward the new voice. The Royal Hunter stood less than two yards away, an absolute vision over a stunning backdrop. His fair blond hair spilled over his shoulders like spun rays of the rising sun, and his eyes were calculating chips of ice. He more closely resembled a fairy tale prince than anything else, his statuesque physique complemented by tall riding boots, soft cream breeches, and a heavily embroidered white dress coat. It made him anything but inconspicuous.

  “That’s not sensible clothing for a hunter.” The words slipped past her lips, no thought and no consideration.

  The Unseelie sidhe barked out a surprised laugh that still managed to sound dignified, elegant as silver bells. “Ah, I believe I see now why you claimed the mortal as your own, Troy. A fine specimen indeed.”

  “She has her amusing peculiarities,” said Troy, not denying the claim of possession.

  Lily turned to him, expecting some sign of hostility, or a façade to hide his annoyance at the implications. Instead, she found his gaze showed a certain fondness.

  Wait. Is he friends with the bloody Unseelie Hunter?

  The Royal Hunter nodded at Troy’s comment, his eyes somehow displaying amusement while remaining iced over, cementing her hunch about their relationship. However, his attention never quite left her.

  “And what is your name, little mortal?” he asked, finally acknowledging her presence and her ability to talk just fine.

  Lily didn’t fall for that question a second time, thank God for small mercies.

  “I’m a faerie doctor of sorts. So, Doctor, I guess?” She shrugged.

  “The Doctor?” he asked, addressing Troy. “Surely not?” His chiseled eyebrow arched a fraction and managed to convey a trove of shrewdness with minimal expression.

  Troy shook his head. “A relation,” he clarified.

  “Well then. There is a Doctor already, so I fear that name will not do. It does not belong to you.” He focused on Lily again, waiting.

  “I’ve also been called Whelp and My Lady.”

  “The first is uncouth, and one would assume the second was bestowed in jest.”

  Lily swallowed. Unseelie monster or not, charged with finding and capturing her or not, this sidhe made her want to speak her mind, banter and swap comments in much the same way she did with Troy. It was not a feeling she had gotten with the Seelie guards, and that unnerved her as much as the rest of the whole situation did. Disguising her rigid posture as best she could, she shifted to seek Troy’s input.

  No help from that corner. He stood slightly behind and to the side, his body language relaxed and at ease. No mask over his features, though, and no tension on his shoulders nor apology in his stance.

  “I’m willing to take your suggestions into account,” she said when the silence stretched a tad too long.

  “Herald,” the Royal Hunter said with barely a moment’s hesitation.

  “What?”

  Troy chuckled. “Come now. A title from the age of kings hardly seems appropriate for such an inn
ocent mortal . . . and a woman, at that.”

  The sidhe shrugged and the movement made the fine embroidery of his dress coat ripple and catch the nascent light. “She will carry the Horn of the Wild Hunt, will she not? And while she does, will it not be through her that we will address it? As I recall, that is the very definition of a Herald. As for her being female, well, it is as you say—the age of kings is long gone, and in these new times, many a thing has changed.”

  “I suppose the title is no more ill-fitting than Doctor ever was,” said Troy, tilting his head to the side in what Lily had come to consider a gesture of curiosity and puzzlement. “If she agrees to wear such a name and to make it hers, I suppose she may use it.”

  The two faeries stared at her, waiting, and she swallowed a scoff. The high-handed way they had just talked about her, giving her permission to use a fictional name no one cared about. It made her want to stomp her foot and say something she would likely regret later.

  No, she had to remember they were faeries.

  They mean more than they say. If we were alone, I would just ask Troy . . . but I think that would show very poor manners in front of the Royal Hunter, and it would make me look dumber than I already do. She looked from one faerie to the other, meeting their eyes for a fraction of a moment—which was as long as she dared. There wasn’t a hidden message waiting for her in the eyes of either one, and she bit her lip. If this were another huge mistake, Troy would have let me know.

  “All right,” she decided. “I’ll take Herald, then. Until something better comes up, at least.”

  “Excellent.” The Royal Hunter smiled. “You may call me Marast.”

  “Marast. I thought you were the Royal Hunter?”

  “Indeed.”

  “He is,” Troy cut in. “Just as I am Kelpie and yet you refer to me as Troy, for that is who I am as well.”

  “She has not grasped the purpose of names yet, I see?” said Marast, speaking to Troy right over Lily’s head.