Tiki reached for a nondescript green glass vase that rested on one of the bookshelves lining the walls of the study and lifted it down.
“What to do with you while we’re gone…” she said softly as she turned the ordinary vase in her hands.
“I’d be careful with that,” a low voice said.
Tiki jerked around. A tall, handsome young man stood leaning against the door frame, his arms crossed over his broad chest, eyes bright with curiosity. He wore a brown jacket and black breeches with tall black riding boots. He looked the picture of a young English lord.
“Dain, you startled me. I didn’t hear you come in.”
A smile played around the corners of his lips as he shrugged off the wall and walked toward her. Blond hair swept across his forehead in a windblown fashion as if he’d just returned from a ride. “You weren’t supposed to hear me.” There was a teasing note in his voice. “How can I spy on you if you know I’m there?”
Tiki gave him a direct look. “And why would you need to spy on me?”
Dain’s lips twisted into a half-grin and his eyes became hooded as he surveyed her, enjoying their game. “Because I believe you have secrets, my dear Tara—” he leaned close and whispered— “powerful, powerful secrets.”
“Yes, well, if I do, they remain secret from me, as well.”
“Give yourself time. You’ve only just learned of your heritage.” His sky-blue eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled down at her. “Perhaps understanding your destiny might take another week or two.”
“My destiny,” Tiki muttered. “Has it occurred to anyone that maybe I don’t have a destiny? That maybe my life is meant to be as ordinary as the next.”
Dain tipped his head back and laughed. “Why would anyone suspect you might have a destiny worth noting?” He tapped a long finger against the side of his face. “Let’s see—you’ve been confirmed as true-born Queen of the Seelie Court by the legendary Stone of Tara. William confided to me that you stole the ring of Ériu—” his eyes twinkled with delight— “which means you’ve recovered two of the mythical Four Treasures.” He dropped his hand to run a fingertip gently down the side of the glass piece. “And rumor has it that you’ve recovered the missing third Treasure— Corn na bhFuíoll—the Cup of Plenty. Is it possible that you might have glamoured the Cup to look like this ordinary green vase?” He lifted his gaze to check her reaction.
Tiki tightened her grip on the glass piece. “How did you know?” She hadn’t yet told Rieker where she’d hidden the Cup.
Dain straightened. “Actually, if you remember, you told me that you’d recovered the Cup and if there’s one thing I know about you, my Queen, is that you protect what is yours.” His smile softened. “I think it’s what I respect most about you.”
Tiki forced a smile. Rieker’s fraternal twin brother was the same height as the young lord—both taller than most, with similarly broad shoulders. They moved with the same effortless grace and could be charming and witty, but rather than identical, their faces were more of a mirror image of each other: similar, yet subtly different. Where Rieker had dark hair, Dain was blond; where Rieker’s nose was straight, Dain’s bore an almost imperceptible hook to the bridge. Rieker’s smoky grey eyes were often shadowed with secrets, while Dain’s eyes were strikingly blue and seemingly guileless.
“May I see it?” he asked softly.
Tiki only hesitated for a second before she whispered the words that would remove the glamour disguising the cup. The green faded away to be replaced with clear glass covered in sparkling swirls of blue, yellows and browns.
Dain sucked in his breath as he reached for the vase. “It’s breathtaking.” The colors and gold gilding on the rim glittered as he carefully turned the glass piece in his hands, examining every inch of its surface. “Corn na bhFuíoll— the Cup of Plenty. Said to hold the four essences of life: healing, inspiration, wisdom and sustenance.” He tilted his head at Tiki, his blond locks shifting to one side. “By my estimation, Girl-Without-A-Destiny, you’ve gained possession of the first three treasures just as Donegal is set to drag the Courts into the bloodiest war we’ve seen in centuries. Legend says the Four Treasures will be found when Faerie is in greatest need and our fate has never been at greater risk than it is now.” Dain’s voice lowered, his expression, for once, serious. “Tara, it is your destiny to solve the paradox of the Treasures. It is you who is meant to find the Fourth Treasure and reunite Faerie.”
Tiki’s cheeks began to warm. She had reached the same conclusion—but how could she admit that she had no idea how to go about using the first three treasures of a mythical legend to find a fourth that could be anything, hidden anywhere? What if she failed?
Sensing her discomfort, Dain dropped his gaze and reached into the interior of the vase. “What is this?” He lifted out a card between two fingers.
“Oh that.” Tiki took the vase from him and whispered the words to change its appearance back to an ordinary green shape before pushing the container back onto the shelf. “I have no idea what it is. The Court Jester gave it to me when we parted for the season.” She shrugged. “It’s probably nothing.”
Dain tilted his head. “The Jester gave it to you?”
“Yes. Why do you sound so surprised? It seems the man’s purpose is to be an enigma. I swear he takes special pleasure in speaking rhyme with no reason.” She paused, imagining the gaudy, colorful clothing of the Court Jester who resided throughout all the seasons in the Palace of Mirrors. “Though I have to admit he did give us a clue about the Stone of Tara when we were searching. Some muddled conundrum about Fate and Truth.” She shook her head. “I swear he acts the fool just to hide his brilliance.”
“No doubt his wit keeps him alive, though he also has extraordinary talent with magic. I’ve seen him create birds from fire. Dangerous birds at that.” Dain turned the card over in his hands, revealing several intricately-drawn designs that resembled stained-glass windows. He frowned as he ran a fingertip over the images. “Tara—” his tone changed— “do you recognize these images?”
Tiki leaned close to stare at the card. “That looks like a queen in the middle and I know this—” she pointed to a drawing of a single upright stone positioned between the spokes of a Celtic cross— “is the Lia Fáil—the stone from which the Cloch na Teamhrach, the Stone of Tara, was said to have originated.” She moved her finger to the next spoke in the wheel containing a picture. “This is the Corn na bhFuíoll, the Cup of Plenty, and this—” her finger tapped the image of a ring capped by a glowing red stone— “is the Ring of Ériu. But I have no idea what the meaning of the fourth image is, do you?”
Dain rotated the card to better see the fourth drawing, a castle of golden bricks with a tower on one end. “Why would the Court Jester give you a card with drawings of the Four Treasures?”
Tiki laughed. “That is exactly my point about the Jester—those aren’t the Four Treasures. It’s a picture of three of the Treasures and a castle. How could a castle be one of the Treasures? It makes no sense. His wit is shrouded in puns with hidden meaning and murky innuendo. I think he amuses himself by confounding those he is meant to entertain.”
Dain stared at the card, turning it in a circle in his hand to view each of the images. “What did he say when he gave it to you?”
Tiki raised her palms. “I don’t remember.”
Dain was oddly persistent. “Try.”
She let out a low groan. “Let me see—it was on Samhain, when control of the courts was to return to the UnSeelies. Something about the winds of change.” She gazed blindly at the floor as she searched her memory. After a moment she snapped her fingers. “I’ve got it. ‘When the clock strikes twelve may the winds of change blow you in your true direction.’” She gazed at Dain’s face. “Does that make any sense to you?”
Dain tapped the card against his thumb. “Not exactly, but—”
“There you are.” William Richmond entered the room, his wavy dark hair blown back from hi
s face, cheeks rosy from the bite of the winter air. His broad shoulders were clad in a brown tweed jacket and he wore tall riding boots with dark pants that revealed his long muscular legs. “Are you ready to go? Do you have the children packed?”
Tiki plucked the card out of Dain’s hands and slid it into her pocket as she stepped away from the bookcase. Her heart beat erratically at the idea of telling Rieker she wasn’t going to go with them. It would not be a pleasant conversation. “We’re almost ready. Fiona went up to wake the children.”
Rieker threw an arm out as she walked past and caught her around the waist. He lowered his head, his dark eyes searching. “Good morning, my queen,” he whispered, before he pressed his lips against hers.
Tiki returned his kiss, marveling at Rieker’s willingness to show feelings he had kept hidden for the longest time. She pulled back, her lips curving up in a soft smile and ran a hand along the soft stubble on his cheek. “Good morning, my lord.”
“Are you still committed to our grand adventure?” His smoky eyes were deep with an emotion he had only recently begun to let Tiki see and her heart skipped a beat in response.
“Where’s my good morning kiss?” Dain’s question dispelled the intimate moment. They turned to find him with his arms crossed over his chest, chin tilted in a petulant angle.
Rieker released Tiki to take a step toward his brother, a wicked grin on his face. “So it’s a little snogging you want this morning, eh?”
Dain laughed and threw his hands up to protect himself. “Not from you, you nutter, I was talking to Tara…” The boys began a mock battle with Rieker trying to catch Dain to kiss him.
“William—”
Something in Tiki’s voice made Rieker stop his horseplay and he swiveled around to look at her, a questioning expression on his face.
Tiki’s words came out in a burst. “I’vegivenitalotofthought—” she took a deep breath, trying to calm her nerves— “and I’m not going with you to Scotland.”
Chapter Four
Situated at the far end of St. James Park, the Birdkeeper’s Cottage sat near the edge of the lake, nestled among the reeds and flowers that flourished there. Prince Leopold stood inside the cottage, his hands clasped behind his back, contemplating the view that stretched across the water towards Buckingham Palace. The building shimmered through the trees like a faerie-tale mirage.
“Mamie, did you have a chance to meet William’s friend, Dain?” Leo glanced over his shoulder at the elderly woman who sat in a nearby rocker, a marmalade-colored cat curled in a ball on her lap. “He introduced him as his cousin, though I’d never heard of him speak of a cousin the same age before.”
Mamie’s voice was quiet, with a sing-song quality that reminded Leo of bells. “No dear, I didn’t meet him.”
Leo turned back to contemplate the view and his voice grew soft and musing. “I’d never heard William speak of any family other than Thomas and James before. And after their deaths I never heard him speak their names again. Too painful, I suppose.” Leo rocked back on his heels, a faraway look in his eyes. “There was a striking similarity between William and Dain. If I didn’t know better I’d say they could almost be brothers.”
“What did you think of this young man?”
“He seemed a right-enough fellow, though I’m concerned they’re involved in something quite serious.”
“These are serious times,” Mamie replied, reaching for a teacup that sat on a nearby table. “I worry about William, too—and his pretty friend, Tara.”
“Yes.” Leo nodded and let out a long sigh. “And then there is Tara.” He turned to face Mamie, his arms crossed over his chest. The brown jacket he wore hung on his thin frame, a result of his recent battle to regain his health after an attack by a liche, sent by Donegal to London with the intent of killing Queen Victoria. “Dain said something I found quite curious.”
“And what was that, dear?”
“He referred to Tara as a queen.” Leo was silent for a long moment, wondering at Mamie’s lack of a reaction. Images of Tara as the scroungy young boy he had first met in St. James Park, and then as the breathtaking Elizabeth—a beautiful young woman who had appeared at a masked ball in Buckingham as if by magic, only to disappear as mysteriously as she had arrived—merged into the enchanting young woman he had come to know—the one with whom his dear friend, William Richmond, was obviously in love. If he didn’t know better, he suspected William’s ‘cousin’ might be in love with Tara, as well. “Tell me the truth, Mamie. I’ve known and trusted your wisdom all my life. You’ve advised my mother since she took the throne. I know you have knowledge of otherworldly things—is Tara a queen in that other realm?” A thread of disbelief echoed in his voice.
The wooden glides of Mamie’s rocker created a mesmerizing hush, shush as she rocked back and forth, the sound accompanied by the purring of the cat. Together, they created an odd kind of melody, giving Leo the disconcerting sense that he had somehow left London far behind and now existed in an unfamiliar world where time stood still.
Mamie slowed her movement and patted a chair that sat next to the rocker.
“Come sit, dear boy, and listen carefully to what I have to say, for I dare not repeat it more than once.”
Leo hurriedly slipped into the chair, his gaze fixed on the elderly woman’s face. Her white hair was a halo around skin gone soft with wrinkles, but her brilliant blue eyes snapped with intelligence and an unusual wisdom.
“What I’m about to tell you cannot leave these four walls, do you understand? There are far too many lives at stake.”
Leo’s pulse jumped and he jerked his head up and down in assent. “You have my word.”
“Your friend, Tara, is not only a queen, but a true-born queen, acknowledged by Cloch na Teamhrach, the Stone of Tara. She is more powerful than even she can imagine.”
Leo’s teeth tugged at his bottom lip. “That mark around her wrist?”
Mamie nodded. “Yes, an fáinne sí. A rare mark that follows the lineage of the true high kings of Tara, the Irish royalty of the Otherworld. Her existence was only a rumour for many years.”
“But where has she been?”
“Hidden, here in London, by parents who were doomed—who understood the destiny that waited for her.” Mamie let out a long sigh. “The only one who knew where she was, and who she was—watched from a distance, waiting for the time when Tara’s return would be most beneficial.”
“And who might that be?”
“She goes by the name of Larkin now. A more cunning faerie has never existed. Her sister, Adasara, was Tara’s mother.” Mamie began rocking again, the wooden frame creaking with the movement. “Larkin was always terribly jealous of Adasara.”
“Was Adasara a queen?”
“No. Tara’s father, Finn, carried the royal blood.” Her crooked fingers smoothed the orange fur of the cat as she rocked, her voice softening with memories. “It was a tangled web that existed between the three of them. I’m not sure anyone but Larkin knows the truth anymore.” Her voice hardened and her gaze narrowed. “In the end, though, Finn and Adasara both died and Larkin disappeared. I’d never heard what became of her until last spring when you and Tara told me she’d become a spy in the UnSeelie Court. Now she has returned to the Seelies and is leading them in a battle against the Winter King—the same king who wants to murder your mother.” Mamie leaned her head against the back of the rocker and stared blindly into the distance, seeing things not in the room. “But powerful though she may be, Larkin can only win this war with Tara’s help.”
Leo rubbed his suddenly sweating palms along his thighs. “Does Tara know she’s part of this battle?”
“She’s being forced to learn.” Mamie slowed to a stop and leaned toward Leo, her voice dropping. “It is a deadly and dangerous war that is being waged in the Otherworld and I fear for Tara. She may be a true-born queen, but she has not lived in that world, she’s not been raised to think—or manipulate—like they do. I warn you, Leo�
��Donegal, the king of the UnSeelie Court, will stop at nothing to claim all of Faerie and England along with it, if he can.”
Leo thumped back into his seat. This war of which Mamie spoke had existed on the edges of their reality for as long as he could remember. It was a secret that was only spoken of in hushed tones and among a select few of the inner family. When his mother’s precious ring of Ériu had been stolen last December—by none other than Tara herself, he suspected—the balance had shifted and the Otherworldly war had spilled over into London, affecting all their lives, forcing them to acknowledge its existence in a way they hadn’t before.
Leo sat upright in his chair. The idea of beautiful, charming Tara facing this battle alone and unprepared made his stomach roil. “We can’t just sit by and helplessly watch them attack. What can I do?”
Mamie rested her fingers against the bare skin of his arm, her grip surprisingly strong. “You must speak to your mother, and only your mother, about this matter. You can’t be sure who can be trusted. Ask her about the other secrets held within the ring of the truce that William guards. That is the information Tara will need to win this war.” Mamie’s eyes were shadowed with worry. “Those secrets might be the only hope Tara has.”
Chapter Five
“Sullivan, have Bearach’s hounds returned?” Donegal stood on the steps to the entrance of the Palace of Mirrors with his hands clasped behind his back, looking out over the shadow-shrouded Night Garden. Gnarled branches cast stark silhouettes against the watery moonlight that lit the landscape. Between the thorned bushes and razor-edged leaves, magnificent flowers bloomed with an alluring glow. It was only upon closer inspection that one could see the blood stains on their jagged petals—an ominous reminder of their lethal intent.
“No, Majesty. We’ve not seen them since they were released to hunt the Seelie Queen yesterday.” Sullivan stood next to the Winter King, mimicking his posture. He was taller than Donegal, but much thinner of limb with silver hair that brushed his shoulders. “They must still be hunting her if they haven’t returned.” He cast a sideways glance at Donegal. “Have you considered they may not be able to find her? On Samhain, the Queen took the body of the Seven Year King and left. There’s no way to know if she went to the Plain of Sunlight with the rest of the Seelie Court or elsewhere. Given her history, she could have returned to the mortal world.”
The Faerie Queen (The Faerie Ring #4) Page 2
