“Are you sure?”
She snorted. “I may not be a resident of the Golden Court anymore, but I have influence here. He’ll see you. And if he doesn’t see you right away, you tell me.” By the gleam in her eye he didn’t want to be the one who disappointed her. “Now, girl, quit wasting time. Mount up and we’ll be off.”
Thorn got that stubborn look on her face, the one he was getting to know all too well. “I think it would be good if I too went to see the Oracle.” She had taken the reins from the boy, but she had yet to get on the pony.
“Are you insane?” Aoife looked down from the height of her mare and sniffed. “You’ve been lucky so far. The Black Queen is not held in high regard here. And if Oberon himself catches sight of you...” She snorted. “Well, let’s just say if that misfortune happens, you will never leave these walls again.”
Thorn’s chin rose. She looked regal enough to be a queen, despite her poorly fitting clothes and wild red hair. “I understand the risks, but we’ve come all this way to see the Oracle. I think it’s something that I should do myself.”
“Bitch!” A rock came flying in from beyond his peripheral vision and struck her on the face. The pony neighed and reared, dragging the boy a few feet down the cobblestones. Bright blood bloomed on Thorn’s cheek. She wiped it away with the back of her hand, looking from one angry face to another.
The boy who had been tending the horses took off, disappearing into the crowd.
Ardan turned around searching for the culprit, but the crowd outside of the jail were all staring at Thorn with varying expressions from wonder to hatred, many of them clutching rocks in whitened fists.
Another stone came in from the other side. Ardan dropped Triton’s reins and tried to get there first, but this time Thorn was ready and it bounced off her shield.
“Back off, ruffians!” Aoife sent a wave of wind around the street, strong enough to push the crowd back a few steps and knock some of them off their feet.
Ardan made his way to Thorn’s side. “Go with Aoife. She’ll keep you safe while I do this.” He took her hands in his; despite the warm fall day, her hands were chilly. “I’ll find out all I can about you from the Oracle. You don’t want to stay here.” He nodded at the crowd, who had started to shout more taunts and obscenities even as they backed away. “It’s not just them. I never should have brought you here. Oberon has a bad reputation as far as women are concerned, and he hates the Black Queen. You don’t want to end up in his hands.”
“I’ll see you there?” Her lips pinched together and her forehead was crinkled with anxiety. “At Aoife’s?”
His chest tightened. “Count on it.”
He’d abandoned her yesterday. Of course, it hadn’t been his fault. But the look in her eye as he’d been dragged away had haunted him during his incarceration. When he’d spotted her in the gallery his heart had started pounding with relief. She’d been there for him. He didn’t want to let her down again.
“I’m counting on you to be my emissary to the Oracle, to find out what’s going on with me, if you can.” She took the pony’s reins and mounted. “Don’t forget that, soldier.” She clucked to the pony and it walked after Aoife’s gray mare. Despite the ridiculousness of a grown woman on such a small horse, she looked regal as she rode, back ramrod straight, past the crowd, heading for the gates.
The tightness in his chest grew. He’d better move fast. He’d put too much trust in Aoife before. Now, he wondered as he watched them ride out of sight, was he putting too much trust in her again?
Chapter Nineteen
Thorn slid her palms down the silk of her new gown and stared at the fluffy concoction of pink taffeta layered over so many underskirts she wasn’t sure if she could even sit down. “I’m not sure this is me.” She’d gotten used to the freedom of the pants and leather jacket and now she felt like someone had stuffed her into a cone of cotton candy and told her not to move.
“You look lovely, my lady.” Aoife’s human maid, Lena, caught her eye in the mirror. “Like you’re ready for a ball.” Her voice held a note of wonderment and Thorn had noticed the reverent way Lena touched the fabric.
“I look like a pink meringue.” Apparently food was one thing she hadn’t forgotten.
She tried to navigate the area between the long table at the foot of the bed and the mirror. Too many skirts and crinolines made her wider than the space and the edge of her skirt caught on a decorative jar, sending it to the floor with a crash.
“Damn it.”
“Mind your feet.” Lena rushed over to pick up the pieces. “I’m sure we can mend it.”
“Here, let me.” She moved her bare feet out of the way of the shattered porcelain and sent a wave of power at the pieces. They trembled, then reassembled, as good as new in Lena’s hands. The maid gave a little start and Thorn smiled at her. “There, that’s fixed. But that doesn’t solve this.” She picked up the fluff of her gown in both hands and spread out the skirts. “If it’s not too much trouble, can we find some pants—and a shirt. If you can find that in my size, great. If not, anything clean that doesn’t look like Cinderella’s pumpkin would be wonderful.”
The maid bit her lip. “But the Lady Aoife said you were to be dressed as befits a princess.”
Thorn held her tongue about what she thought about Lady Aoife’s commands. Thorn didn’t trust her. Not one bit. The lady had been nothing but kind on the surface since they’d arrived at her chateau, but all of her words held double meanings.
Aoife had given her a lovely room overlooking the back of the mansion and instructions to stay within the high walls of the garden if she went outside. At first it had been heavenly. The bath was five times the small tin tub she’d used at Ardan’s cave, and having multiple soaps and shampoos and hot running water out of the tap was pure luxury. But this dress was the limit.
“Pants and a shirt.” She gave Lena a severe look, feeling badly when the maid dropped into a quivering curtsy. Damn. She’d been dealing with only Ardan for too long, now she’d scared the girl.
“Yes, my lady.” Lena scurried to the door. “I’ll be right back.”
“Wait!” But it was too late, the maid was gone. “Fine, since I don’t think I can sit in this concoction, I’ll just stand here until you come back.” She carefully made her way to the window, managing the skirts better this time.
It wasn’t that the skirt felt unfamiliar. It was that they felt too familiar. As if, once upon a time, she’d lived in dresses like these. The gown wasn’t as revealing or sexy as the one she’d woken up in, but it had a feel to it like sliding into water filled with expensive bath oils—easy, comforting, seductive.
Exactly like walking into a well-laid trap.
The last few days she’d been woken up by a rough fall onto a stranger in armor, been attacked by magic numerous times, had stones thrown at her by a hateful crowd. How could she run in this dress?
And somehow, she knew, she’d need to run.
Her hostess watched her like a cat watched its dinner. Biding its time until it chose to strike. Aoife threw out comments like the one she’d said to the maid, asking her to dress like a princess, and then wondering aloud why she so closely resembled the Black Queen, as if Thorn would slip up and accidentally tell her all her secrets.
Thorn snorted. As if she even knew any of her own secrets.
No. As lovely as Aoife’s chateau was, as tempting as the bath and the delicious food, and even the soft silky dresses were, she was out of here. Just as soon as Ardan came back from the Oracle. And when he did, she’d be ready, and not trussed up in a corset like a chicken bound for the roasting pan.
ARDAN WALKED UP THE inner stairs of the Oracle’s tower, sticking close to the wall and away from the steep drop on the other side. Like every other stone piece of this castle the tower had been built for defense. The stairs were narrow, so only one person at a time could go up. And the rope that was the only barrier to his fall was little comfort. It would only take a hard shove
and he’d be a pile of broken bones down on the stones of the central floor.
He reached the top and knocked on the door.
“Enter.” The door swung open quietly.
Ardan entered the room. It hadn’t changed from the last time he’d been here. Still packed with books and clutter, it took up the entire second floor of the square tower. The walls were hung with faded tapestries and a screen hid half of the room, curtaining off what he assumed was the old man’s bed.
“So, you’ve returned. Well, I thought you might.” Seated in a rocking chair his wrinkled walnut skin barely seemed to cover his bones. His pointed ears were twice the size of Ardan’s, with tufts of curly white hair sprouting from them like weeds sprouting from rocks. If he’d ever had any hair on the top of his head, it was now long gone, leaving his bald brown pate shining in the candle’s glow.
Far-seeing was typically a human Gift, but once in a while an elvatian was born with the sight. And that’s what the old man was—fae, just like Ardan himself.
Ardan found himself wondering if his own ears would continue to grow, and if he’d ever reach the several thousands of years old he guessed the Oracle to be.
“No. Sorry, my lad. You won’t make it to this age.” The Oracle cracked a smile. “But no one really wants to.” He sighed, his smile fading away. “Now, what’s brought you back? I see you found what you were searching for.”
“No, I didn’t. I’m looking for the Black Queen.”
“But you found the lodestone, didn’t you?”
Ardan gave him a stiff nod. A large crackling fire kept the room at a roasting temperature and he began to sweat under his armor.
“And the lodestone, it led you where?”
“It continues to point to someone who is not the queen.” Ardan leaned in and lowered his voice. “Or is she?”
The Oracle laughed. “I sent you to the right place. Let’s see how you’ve messed up the game.”
Ardan bristled with resentment. “I haven’t messed anything up, I did what you instructed. Now you tell me, where did you go wrong.”
“Patience, boy, patience.” A small round table with a flat bowl of water slid over from the corner to rest next to the old man’s rocking chair. The Oracle made a low humming noise and stuck his finger in the bowl, spinning the water counterclockwise until it had momentum of its own.
He pulled out his finger and looked over the bowl with clouded eyes. “Hmm, I see.”
“What do you see?”
“Well, look for yourself, boy.”
Ardan looked into the bowl. A picture had formed of himself in the cave where he’d found the lodestone. The glass globe was in his hand. Impatience filled him and he forced his hands to stay relaxed at his sides.
“I already told you. I found the thing, but it’s not taking me where I need to go.”
The Oracle shook his head. He passed his hand over the bowl again. Now Ardan heard an echo of his own thoughts as he stood staring at the lodestone, and his hopes of finding the Black Queen sank.
I’m a knight. A Tuathan Lord, damn it! If I’m not in service to someone, what am I?
Nothing. Just a man without a place.
I need my place back. And this lodestone will help me find it.
“Do you see, lad? It’s helping you find what you truly desire. Follow it, and it will take you where you need to go.”
Ardan’s frustration turned to rage. “I’ve been up and down the countryside, sacrificed everything for this fucking quest, and you’re telling me I’m the one who’s screwed the whole thing up? If I don’t find the queen I’ll be dead,” he snarled at the old man. “What the hell do I do now?”
The Oracle grinned, revealing a gap in the center of his crooked yellow teeth. “Where did the lodestone take you, lad?”
“It’s not a where—it’s a who.”
“Well then. Stick with her and you’ll find your queen.” He looked around the room. “Where is the lass?”
“Safe.”
The Oracle stuck his finger in the water and spun it again. As the water slowed it formed a picture of Thorn in a puffy pink dress, with the Lady Aoife behind her. As they watched, a fine spider web formed, weaving over and over around Thorn, until she was dead center of the lovely pattern.
“You’ve made another mistake boy. You’ve left her in a trap.” The old man began to laugh, his laugher rising louder and louder, echoing off the stones. “All this work for nothing. You lose her, and you lose everything.”
Ardan’s sweat went cold. What had he done?
Chapter Twenty
Aoife craned her neck and peered up through the branches of the oak tree towering above her. Starlight filtered through the branches and she smiled. It wasn’t one of the oldest in the grounds but it was perfectly situated, and now that she’d applied her talents to it, it soared a hundred feet tall, the wide canopy of brown leathery leaves stretched out overhead in a spreading umbrella. It was perfect for her trap.
Reaching into her pocket she took out a tiny bird cage, no bigger than her thumb. She tied a silver ribbon to it, placed it on her palm, and blew. Under the influence of her magic the cage and ribbon grew, until finally, the slender ribbon had grown into a rope and the cage was large enough to hold a man with thick silver bars and a strong floor..
Another waft of magic sent the cage floating high into the branches, and with another gesture the gleaming silver ribbon tied itself to a fat branch. She let go and the cage swung from the branches, a pretty prison. She tested it, looping more power over the cage and applying force until it approximated the weight of her houseguest. The branch bowed a little with the weight, but it held, the cage swinging slightly in the breeze.
A wide smile crossed her face. It would do.
She checked the roots for strain, then worked her way out, checking the entire tree—leaves, grass and dirt—until she reached the edge of the canopy. The roots were vigorous, the branches would hold the weight, and the space under the tree was large enough for Ardan to fight the queen and still give Aoife room to bind her little houseguest. She made her way back to the center and stood next to the trunk, quieting her mind. Reaching deep into her Gift she pulled out the deepest piece of her magic. She tossed a lasso of power up to the stars, hooking into the great capacity of the universe. A rush of sparkling energy filled her, as heady as mainlining champagne.
This was what it was to be one of the strongest fae in Underhill. Few saw under her guise of gentle older lady to the true magician underneath. Being able to latch into star power gave her the ability to look merely strong, not truly Gifted as she was. But it had come at a cost.
Bitterness tasted like bile on her tongue.
She hadn’t been this powerful when she’d been married off to the King of the Golden Court. If she had, she would have made sure none of this mess would have come to pass. Aeval would never have stolen the king’s only chance to have a child—and her’s with it. The prince that now ruled the north of the Black Court’s territory and on into the White’s, would have been her son. He would have ruled the Golden Court, and she would have stayed on as queen instead of chasing down this dream of revenge.
Magic buzzing on her skin, she took the first steps away from the trunk. Layering the spell in a spiral, she headed right and walked widdershins out to the edge of the canopy. With each measured step she siphoned more of the stars’ power, sending it down into the roots. The tree greedily sucked up power until every piece of it—dried leaves, roots, bark—glittered with the light of a thousand stars.
She took the last step, tied off the spell, and turned around, a surge of satisfaction rushing through her at the sight. It looked like she’d captured millions of glowworms for a summer party. Now the tree would feed on starlight and she could use her power for other uses. It was so pretty, sparkling like nothing on earth ever could. Too bad she couldn’t leave it like this, but if she did, the trap would be visible from miles away.
With a wave of her hand she drew
the night down over the tree. The glittering disappeared and everything went dark. Now the tree looked like what it had been, simply a black skeleton hung with even darker papery leaves. Even in the daylight the shadows would cling to it. No one would see what was truly there—a spiral to catch a queen.
The star power was gone from her skin, but even so anticipation lingered in its place. Ardan would be here soon, and she wanted to make sure he wouldn’t steal her pretty little houseguest away and set his own trap without her. Or worse, think he should protect the chit. She could tell he was becoming overly attached to the girl and when that happened, men became fools.
No, she wouldn’t risk it.
This time, everything would be under her control. This time, the Black Queen would come for the girl and Ardan would be waiting. And this time, so would Aoife. She’d make sure nothing went wrong and her chosen emissary would finally kill the bitch.
She walked back to the chateau, anticipation singing in her chest. It was time to bait the trap.
Chapter Twenty-one
Dreams of being hunted under the light of a full moon kept Thorn tossing and turning despite the comfort of the mattress. Hounds bayed at her feet and she urged her steed to go faster, faster! To run full out. She had to escape before he caught her. A wicked laugh rolled across the moonlit fields and she shuddered in fear.
She didn’t want to turn and look—she knew it would slow her down—but the terror had her looking back anyway. He lit up the night. Everything about him was too bright. She couldn’t see any details of his face in the golden light shining from him like a sun.
He was going to catch her.
Burying her face in the horse’s mane, she bent over its back and urged it to go faster. It caught her urgency and sped up. But it was too late. Something came out of nowhere, wrapping around her in a tangling net of gold and yanking her back. Her scream was choked off as she struggled, the golden cords wrapping her from head to toe. The more she fought, the tighter it got and the more she realized this was not a dream, it was real.
Bespelled: A Fae Fantasy Romance (Fae Magic Book 5) Page 13
