by Vanessa Skye
Nuadha rises, and the others show respect and follow suit.
“Come, girl. I wish to see how the beast fares.” He holds up his hand as fae move to join us. “Just the female and me. I wouldn’t want any of you to feel threatened. Go about your tasks to prepare the city for my absence.”
Nuadha nods his head once, and I follow as he strides toward the door.
The interminable silence stretches on as we walk, and I wonder if I should apologize again, but then the angry part of me remembers exactly what he did and said. I squeeze my lips shut instead.
“I trust you find your lodgings acceptable, child,” he says.
That’s it! “Alys.”
“What?”
“My name, it’s Alys.” What is wrong with me? Jesus, I need to sew my own mouth shut.
Nuadha scowls. “I know that.”
“Then why do you keep calling me child?”
He stops and turns so quickly, I almost bump into him.
“You irk me.” He narrows his eyes. “You argue with me more than any fae has ever dared, and I should kill you where you stand and be done with your insolence. I would not continue this foolishness if I were you.”
I swallow. “I-I’m sorry, Nu—Sire,” I say with a bow. “Where I was raised, we have no royals—except maybe the Kardashians—so I am unfamiliar with showing proper respect for a king such as yourself. I promise to try harder.”
“What is a Kardashian? Are they the new human overlords? Should we prepare for their invasion?”
“In a way…” The giggles hit me, hard, and I stop, wrapping my arms around my stomach, until I can catch my breath. Where do I even begin? “They are nothing. It was a silly joke on my part.” I clear my throat and wipe the last trace of grin off my face. “I apologize.”
He snorts in annoyance. “Stop vexing me.”
“Well, maybe someone should argue with you more. You can hardly be a good king surrounded by yes-men, can you?” I look up and try not to show any fear.
He stares, taking in my face, my long braid, and then his gaze slides to my sword and boots before looking away with his lips pursed. “I will be whatever kind of king I wish to be because I can. The strange ideas you carry from the human world are not welcome here. And I call you a child because you are one.” He turns and stalks down the hall once more.
“I am not! I just turned eighteen.” I’m not exactly sure what the date is, but when we left, my birthday was only a few weeks away.
A wave of melancholy washes over me. At home, I would have gotten presents, and Mom would have baked the best cake. Here, I am unseen, and once again, unwanted.
“That, faeling, makes you a child. You have three years before you reach adulthood here. Try to remember that…as well as your proper place as a guest on my world, and in my city.”
His words sting, but I don’t argue further. It’s pointless, anyway. I’m lucky he hasn’t stabbed that flaming sword of his right through my tongue by now.
We reach my lovely little cottage to find Mandrake in his stable steadily eating his never-ending supply of carrots and apples. His muscular bulk covers the once-protruding bones even more than it did this morning.
Mandrake wanders close and rubs his cheek on the side of my head in greeting.
“He makes a remarkable recovery, Alys,” Nuadha says, barely more than a whisper. “He will be ready for you to ride tomorrow.”
Ride? I barely managed to stay upright on a regular horse. How the heck am I even supposed to even get on this beast?
As if hearing my inner fears, Mandrake nudges me out of the stable with Nuadha following, and a moment later, kneels in the grass and lays down on his right side.
I take a couple of steps back. What are you doing?
What does it look like?
Who knew unicorns were sarcastic?
“He is inviting you to get on his back, Alys,” Nuadha says with an amused smirk.
“Um…” I blink several times as I stare at Mandrake. Are you sure you are recovered?
I am nearly full strength. As the fae king suggests, I will indeed be ready for our journey tomorrow.
I step a few paces closer and awkwardly throw my leg over his back.
Once I settle, Mandrake carefully stands.
I grip his shaggy mane and try not to look down…or scream.
Mandrake sets a slow pace, and I fine-tune my position until I am comfortable behind his shoulder blades.
He picks up to a trot, and I resist the urge to fling my arms around his neck and hold on for dear life.
I will not allow you to fall, Alys.
Huh-uh. Okay.
It is unnecessary to grasp my mane like you are trying to pull it out at the roots.
Oh. I release my desperate hold on his dreadlocks…a little. Sorry.
He trots around the grassland until I’m confident with my balance before breaking into a gallop.
I squeeze my hands and thighs around him as we streak across the field. The heather and wildflowers nothing but streaks of color thanks to Mandrake’s unbelievable speed. He is faster than any horse I’ve ever seen.
The unicorn eases into a wide turn, and we gallop back to Nuadha.
I can feel the king’s heavy scrutiny as we approach and stop on a dime in front of him.
Mandrake bows and settles on the ground so I can slide off his huge back and once again plant my feet firmly, and gratefully, on the ground.
“He says he is nearly at full strength,” I say between nervous gulps of air. “He will be fine tomorrow.”
The king nods, glancing at me then Mandrake. “Armies would follow you to the ends of Tír na nÓg to do your bidding, Alys,” he murmurs. His blue eyes meet mine, and he lifts a hand.
I hold my breath as his fingers gradually within an inch of my cheek.
Then he blinks and drops his hand. “I have much to contend with this morning. I will see you at the evening meal, child.”
He stalks away and disappears inside his stone fortress.
Chapter Thirteen
Baird meets me at my cottage just before dawn.
“Here is the pack for your hor—mount,” he says, handing me two leather bags sealed with metal buckles and joined by a long strap.
Checking inside, I see food, a warm blanket, and spare clothing.
“Your water bladder,” he says, showing me how to loop it over my shoulder, so it sits at my side for easy access.
I pick up my leather pack, which contains even more clothing and food, throw it over my shoulder, and we walk out to the stables where Mandrake is awake and waiting.
“I cannot believe this is the same animal,” Baird murmurs and steps back.
I grin at the sight of Mandrake’s thick muscles and healthy shine. “I know, right?”
Mandrake nuzzles me, and I give him an apple I snagged from last night’s meal.
“I have a question,” I ask as Baird admires Mandrake. “I thought each fae could only make their own rip in the veil, yet Nuadha made one for the banished fae yesterday?”
Baird nods. “Normal fae are capable of making their own rip, but only theirs. Nuadha is old—extremely old, however, and has vast stores of power at his disposal. There are few on this world as old as he. He can create tears and strip fae of power before he banishes them so they cannot return.”
“Oh. So the banished fae won’t end up lost between worlds?”
“Not unless he wishes it.”
I sigh. “Still, the Talentless in the human world now…he has no clue what to do or how to live.” Thoughts of the Talentless, and the banished fae in particular, kept me up most of the night last night. What is he supposed to do? He can never come back. He could have a family who relies on him. “I can’t believe Nuadha did that. He didn’t even care!”
“Nuadha does what he thinks best for this world. This is not Earth. Things are different here. And don’t forget there will be a Gallagher, like your mother, to help the fae stuck on Earth.”
> “It was a shitty thing to do. He’s a dick. End of story.”
Baird shrugs. “He has kept peace in this world for thousands of years. What human can say the same? He may have banished the Talentless yesterday, but do not make hasty judgments. All is not always as it seems.”
Birds chirp as the first of the sun peeks over the foggy horizon and casts an orange glow across the spectacular mountain range, and rather than ruin the beautiful morning, I mutter to myself but don’t argue.
“Where did you get to after dinner?” Baird asks.
“I was tired,” I say vaguely, as I sling the saddlebags over Mandrake’s hindquarters.
Feeling brave after my moment with Nuadha in the paddock, I had dressed for dinner in a new blue silk gown left in my bedroom for me plus my pretty silver slippers. I’d washed and dried my hair with care until a blaze of curls framed my face just so. I’d even pinched my cheeks for some artificial blush and rubbed oil on my lips before seeking out the first guy to ever make me feel like a stupid, giggling idiot.
As much as I hated having to admit it now, standing in the doorway of that spectacular dining room as fae crowded around his modest throne, I’d recognized my grinning, blushing silliness as the same stuff I’d seen on all the faces of those high school girls practically tripping over themselves in their sad attempts to get the attention of one boy or another. With lantern flames flickering off every piece of crystal and glass in the room, reflecting colors on wall tapestries so skillfully crafted that they almost looked animated, I’d known I was about to join their sad ranks.
But first, I’d had to get his attention.
I fought to keep my shaking legs from dropping me flat on my face as I’d stepped past the spit weighed down by pounds and pounds of roasted meat as fat sizzled over the open flame. I struggled not to let my own head get in my way as I had walked past several stunning music fae dancing, playing instruments, and singing in haunting voices. And I repeated It’s only dinner. It’s only dinner over and over while trying to force the goofy smile twitching at the corners of my mouth away. I’d kept my gaze locked on his beautiful face with every grinning, wobbly step.
Nuadha, on the other hand, had glanced my way—taking in my hair, face, and body—for exactly one bored second before his gaze had flicked away and he promptly seemed to forget I existed.
Seated at the opposite end of the long table from King Cranky McGrumpypants, I’d eaten in silence, drank in silence, and watched the entertainment in silence, with Nuadha steadfastly ignoring me.
Regardless of his threats in the war room, word had obviously gotten around as the grandly dressed fae—barring Aiden and Baird—had avoided me altogether, sharing nothing but wide-eyed stares and whispers behind their hands.
Nuadha had no sooner finished his last bite before calling over several music fae to entertain him. The stunning creatures had danced in a whirl of silken color, occasionally reaching out to stroke a muscular arm or a smooth cheek, which he only encouraged with his perfect smile.
He had gone out of his way to show just how thoroughly he enjoyed their pointed attentions, and after an hour, disappeared with three of them, and no one raised an eyebrow.
I’d left the hall almost immediately after with a sour taste in my mouth that had nothing to do with the delicious fare and everything to do with why I’d even cared what he was busy doing somewhere inside the stupid castle with the stupid music fae.
“I, uh…I knew we had an early start,” I eventually respond to Baird as Mandrake kneels, and I climb onto his back.
We head toward another stable on the other side of the main building where Aiden and his men are preparing to leave. Everyone is decked out in full gear—breastplates, helmets, and shields along with their swords.
“What is that pattern?” I ask, pointing at the design of my mom’s amulet stamped into the center chest of the men’s armor.
“It is Nuadha’s crest.”
“Good morning, Alys,” Aiden says with a grin. “Are you ready?”
“I am,” I say, returning his smile. It’s nice to see a friendly face.
Baird jumps onto the back of his dappled gray horse with a graceful bound, and Aiden does the same.
“You looked very beautiful last night.” Aiden winks. “My men could not keep their eyes off you.”
I snort. One certainly could. “If you say so.”
Aiden’s expression becomes serious, and he guides his horse closer. “As we travel, we may run into trouble.”
I nod. “Your men are dressed for war this time.”
“They are. No war has been declared as yet, but if these raids continue, Nuadha will not hesitate. And while your training shows tremendous promise, it is by no means complete. In the event of a battle, I want you to stay by my side. But if the way is clear for you to run and safely hide, I suggest you do so.”
I do not run from battle and hide like a weasel.
I decide it’s best not to pass Mandrake’s ire on to Aiden and simply smile instead.
“We will continue to train when our travels allow it,” he says.
I nod as two of his men lead a magnificent black horse with a gleaming ebony coat out of the stable.
The animal paws the ground and snorts, eager to move. The beautiful warhorse sports a silver breastplate strapped across its broad chest and an intricately engraved silver helmet. It dwarfs every other horse in the yard and comes close to Mandrake in size, but not quite.
One guess who this big boy belongs to.
“Are you prepared?” the king asks Aiden as he strides across the yard at that precise moment, his armor gleaming, sword strapped firmly to his back, and a royal blue silk cloak rippling down his back and around his legs and feet like a swirling mist.
“We are, Sire,” Aiden says with a bow.
Nuadha nods once toward Baird and runs his hand along his horse’s flank. “Then let us away before the sun is too high.” Once again, he doesn’t even look in my direction much less greet me. Instead, he jumps onto his mount’s back as if his silver armor weighs nothing and rides and across the paddocks, his cloak flying behind him like a beacon.
We fall into a formation with Aiden following the king. Next in line is Baird then me, and twenty or so armed men bringing up the rear as we canter toward a green valley nestled between the low snow-topped mountains.
I’m initially concerned about Mandrake’s ability to keep up in his weakened state, but he easily maintains a gallop with long powerful strides and steady breathing. The smaller horses require two steps to every one of the unicorn’s, and soon enough, it’s them that have my sympathy.
Nuadha occasionally stops to converse with Aiden and Baird, ensuring we’re heading in the correct direction, as the armed men behind us carefully examine the area for any threats.
Eventually, the grassy paddocks fade into large sun-speckled forests as we work our way up into the low mountains. The air turns noticeably colder, but even with the sun shining, there are more patches of frost scattering the ground than melting into it. It will be winter soon, and I hope to be back in the warm confines of the cottage before that happens. If winters in this version of Ireland are anything like my Chicago, I have no desire to sleep on the ground.
We allow the horses to rest while we eat a midday meal in a thick wood before heading back down the other side of the idyllic valley.
I can’t help but smile as we ride through grassy plains and rocky outcrops with heather and fall wildflowers almost tall enough to skim the smaller horses’ bellies before a winding dirt track leads us alongside a bubbling stream and across a rough stone bridge.
We stop long enough for man and beast alike to take a drink from the clear water.
“How close are we to where you met Estrild?” Nuadha asks Baird.
“Not more than an hour’s ride, Sire. It is in the forest of Eadrom, about a mile in.”
“Are there fae communities nearby?” Nuadha asks.
Aiden nods and replies, “T
here is a forest fae community in Eadrom and a water fae settlement in Lough Mask beyond that.”
“With water fae about, be on your guard!” Nuadha shouts the warning behind him as his kicks his horse into a gallop.
The fae draw their swords and raise their shields as they ride, and I wonder why Nuadha carries no shield and does not draw his weapon.
I carry my sword, although I am still not certain how I’m supposed to fight from a height above most of the fae’s heads. Aiden hasn’t taught me that yet.
We spend our first night out in the open cold. The startlingly bright night sky is our only shelter as the men gather around an empty cauldron brought from Chathair Mhór.
I frown, watching as they carefully place it over a fire and return to their seats around the pit.
Soon, the smell of hot stew bubbling away in its depths wafts throughout the camp.
I gasp and hear Baird walking up behind me. I point. “How is the pot producing food when they didn’t put anything in it?”
Turning, I see it’s Nuadha, not Baird, standing quiet and so close I could touch him.
“That is the Cauldron of the Dagdha. One of Danu’s many gifts to her people. It feeds entire armies, and is never empty so long as it sits on flame.”
“O-oh.”
One of Nuadha’s men hands him a steaming bowl of stew, which he passes to me and gestures for the man to bring him another.
I get a small bite past the nervous lump in my throat and pretend I still have manners as I start inhaling the rest. It’s delicious, but I suppose I should expect no less of a magical stew.
Determined to keep him talking, I ask, “Is your sword also one of the gifts?”
He nods, spoons stew into his perfect mouth. “Danu presented her people with many gifts. The Sword of Danu you’ve seen. There’s also the Stone of Fal, which sings in the presence of the rightful ruler of Tír na nÓg. It is here, in Éire,” he replies before taking another bite.
“W-what else?”
“The Spear of Lugh. Its bearer is always assured victory in battle. It helped me overcome Bres all those years ago. And…” He frowns and looks away.
