The Faerie Queen (The Faerie Ring #4)

by Kiki Hamilton

  THE TRANSPORT TO Scotland was effortless. Larkin had them link arms and the world dissolved into grey swirling clouds. To Tiki it seemed a stiff wind rushed against her body and turned her in a slow arc. The clouds cleared and she was there.

  THEY STOOD ON a small stone bridge that arched over a river amid gently rolling hills of sparse fields. It was much cooler than the Plain of Sunlight and Tiki shivered against the chill.

  “It’s winter in the mortal world,” Larkin commented, “and especially cool up north here in Scotland. Best to glamour some layers while no one is about.”

  Tiki added a sweater and a long cloak, pulling the hood up around her head. She scanned the horizon. “Which way is Dunvegan?”

  Larkin pointed. “North.”

  “Can’t you transport us there?” Dain asked.

  “I can’t transport to where I haven’t been,” Larkin said. “For now, we walk.”

  AN HOUR INTO their trek a wagon came by, pulled by two small, shaggy plow horses.

  “Where ye goin’ lads and lassies in all yer finery?” The driver called out.

  “To Dunvegan,” Larkin replied. “Have you room?”

  The old man threw a thumb over his shoulder. “The whole wagon is open fer the takin’.”

  IT WAS FROM the back of the wagon that Tiki first laid eyes on Dunvegan Castle. They came over a small rise and there in the distance, the castle stood on a cliff of rock above a reflective loch, the golden bricks of the fortress glowing in the watery afternoon sun.

  Tiki let out a sharp gasp and covered her mouth with her hand.

  Larkin and Dain both turned to look at her. “What is it?”

  “I’ve seen that castle before.”

  Larkin frowned. “Where?”

  Tiki stared at the imposing structure, searching her memory. She’d never been to Scotland but the sight before her was familiar—she knew she’d seen Dunvegan Castle before. Suddenly it came to her.

  “The card.”

  “What?” Larkin asked.

  “The card the Jester gave me.” Tiki looked over at Dain. “Remember? I showed it to you just the other day. In the section of the Celtic cross that should have had the Fourth Treasure it was a picture of a castle—this castle.”

  Dain twisted around to gaze at the castle again. “By god, I think you’re right, Tiki.”

  Larkin moved closer, her gaze intent upon Tiki. “When did the Fool give you this card?”

  “It was the night of Samhain—when we sacrificed the Seven Year King and turned the court back over to the UnSeelies.” Tiki shifted her gaze to Larkin. “You were there. He gave me the card and said ‘When the clock strikes twelve, may the winds of change blow you in your true direction.’”

  Larkin stared at the castle, her brow knitted in thought, long golden strands of hair teased by the wind. “He knew, then.”

  “Knew what?” Dain asked. “Surely, you’re not saying the Court Jester, the Fool, knew where to find the Fourth Treasure?”

  Larkin’s fingers were clenched on the short wooden walls of the wagon so tightly her knuckles were white and the muscles in her jaw flexed as though she fought to keep the words from spilling out.

  “What is it?” Tiki asked. “What do you know, Larkin? Speak the truth, because none of us are guaranteed to see tomorrow. If we aren’t honest now—when we’ve only got each other to survive this war—then we will never be honest with each other.”

  The tense moment stretched between them, filled by the creak of the wagon wheels and the steady clump of the horse’s hooves on the dirt road.

  “Why yer a’travelin’ to Dunvegan?” The driver called over his shoulder.

  As quickly as her face had revealed her emotions, Larkin’s features shifted into a mask that hid her thoughts.

  “We need to see the MacLeod’s about a personal matter,” she replied in an imperious tone.

  “The MacLeod’s, you say?”

  “Yes. The Lords of Dunvegan.”

  The driver let out a low chuckle. “They’d be happy to have you call them Lords, Miss, that’s fer sure, but you ain’t gonna do it at Dunvegan.”

  “And why is that?”

  “Because the Potato Famine took everything the ‘Lords’ of Dunvegan had. Old Man MacLeod moved his family to London back in ’51. No MacLeod’s been livin’ at Dunvegan for over twenty years.”

  THE DRIVER STOPPED at a fork in the road and swiveled around to look at them, his brown felt hat shading his wrinkled face.

  “This is the turn to the castle.”

  “Thank you for your kindness,” Larkin said, as they scrambled from the back of the wagon.

  “Much obliged,” Dain said, reaching up to shake the old man’s hand.

  Their driver gave a slow nod. “Heard tell a few years back that Old Man MacLeod was a bank clerk in a place called Lombard Street though, no tellin’ if he’s still there or not.” He lifted his shoulders in a shrug then readjusted his hat. “Good day to you folks.” The reins snapped against the rumps of his two shaggy ponies. “Hi’yup.”

  “NOW WHAT?” DAIN asked as the wagon trundled off in the distance and the three of them stood at the fork in the road. “If no one’s been living at Dunvegan for twenty years, it’s unlikely they would have left their most prized possession there unguarded.”

  Tiki remained silent. It seemed odd that the ring had released the word Dunvegan if no one lived there anymore, but their driver had seemed quite sure the MacLeod’s had left long ago.

  Larkin gazed down the wooded trail that led to the castle, her face etched with indecision. “London does seem the better choice, given the circumstances.”

  “What are the chances we’ll find them?” Tiki asked.

  “We know one of MacLeod men work on Lombard Street as a bank teller. We’ll start there,” Dain said.

  “There are a lot of banks in London,” Tiki said doubtfully.

  “It’s all we can do.” Larkin held her arms out. “Gather round. We’ll go together. We can’t waste any more time here.”

  “No.”

  Dain and Larkin looked at Tiki in surprise.

  “We’re here—we need to at least go to the castle and see what we can learn. The Cup gave us the clue, it must mean something.”

  Dain spoke first. “You’re right, Tara. It would be foolish to leave without investigating.”

  Tiki expected an argument from Larkin but the faerie surprised her. She swept her arm out in the direction of the castle. “To Dunvegan.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  The trek to the castle took longer than Tiki expected—the trail wound up and down the swales of barren land in an undulating path, much longer than it appeared from a distance. As they neared the castle, the landscape became wooded, obscuring the panoramic view until they reached the entrance and gazed out from their perch atop a ridge of rock. The castle was balanced on the edge of a great loch like a sentinel, the silence only broken by the cries of the sea birds. Before them the hills stretched as far as one could see.

  They walked through an arched entry into a main courtyard with a parapet on one side that looked out over the vista.

  “It’s like we’ve arrived in another world, isn’t it?” Tiki murmured. “After the hustle and bustle of London, it’s hard to imagine that life exists like this.”

  Dain stood close by her side, his hands resting on the top of the stone barricade, his gaze sweeping the vista. “I feel like we’ve gone back in time—to a place perhaps Eridanus and Finn knew.”

  “I agree. It’s like we’ve reached an intersection of old and new; ancient and present—a crossroads of time and space.” Tiki placed her hands next to where Dain’s rested. His fingers were long and tan—a stark contrast to the petite size and pale color of Tiki’s. She glanced up at the side of his handsome face. “Do you suppose it’s destiny that has brought us here? Are we meant to find what has been hidden for so long?”

  “Don’t deceive yourself.” Larkin’s words broke the spell as
she came to stand on the far side of Dain. “Destiny is simply the intersection of hard work and opportunity—nothing more, nothing less. If you put your mind to something with the intent of pursuing the goal at all cost—you create your own destiny.”

  “Can I help ye?”

  Tiki whirled around to find a wizened old gentlemen dressed in a Scottish kilt standing ten feet away.

  “The castle’s not open to visitors at this time,” he said, “though it’s been years since we’ve had any.” He tilted his head. “Have ye lost yer way?”

  “Mr. MacLeod sent us,” Dain answered, stepping forward with his hand out. “I’m Brendain Winterbourne and this—” he motioned to Tiki, “is Tara Dunbar MacLochlan and Larkin.” Tiki nodded and gave a short curtsey. “Mr. MacLeod said we could visit the castle. Are you the caretaker here?”

  “Rory Campbell, I be. Caretaker, Groundsweep, Head Inn Master and other assorted titles.” He gave a gap-toothed grin as he gripped Rieker’s hand, then tipped his mac at Tiki then Larkin. “Glad to make your acquaintance. You’ve come to learn about the castle, then?”

  “Yes, we’d love to hear what you know about Dunvegan,” Tiki said. “We’ve been told there are even some stories about faeries.”

  The old man let out a gleeful chuckle and jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “Why else would we have a faerie tower?” He cocked a shaggy eyebrow at them. “There are many treasures here at Dunvegan but the Faerie Flag is our most prized possession.”

  Tiki clapped her hands together. “Would you tell us how the MacLeod’s came to have a flag from a faerie?”

  “Certainly, little miss. Would the three of ye like to join me for tea?”

  Tiki and Dain grinned at the old man. “We’d love to,” they chimed together.

  RORY CAMPBELL LED them into the castle into a small room that doubled as a makeshift kitchen. “Pardon the mess—” he swept a few periodicals off the table and dusted the wooden seats— “it’s not often I have guests.”

  The three of them sat down on the chairs and Tiki let out a grateful sigh. “Thank you,” she said. “It was a longer walk than we thought. It feels good to sit.”

  “Where ye from?” he asked over his shoulder as he put a kettle on to boil and pulled four mismatched tea cups from a small cupboard. “I can tell by your accents you don’t live on the Isle.”

  “London,” Dain said. “We’re just in Scotland for a short visit. How long have you been caretaker here at Dunvegan?”

  “Since the chief had to pack ‘er up and go to London.” He shook his head, an expression of great sorrow on his face. “I’m the only one who stayed.” He looked around the small room. “Somebody has to keep the place alive.”

  “Can you tell us about the faerie flag?” Tiki asked. “I’ve never heard the true story of how it came to be in the possession of mortals.”

  “Yes, please do,” Larkin added. “It sounds fascinating.”

  “Twas a gift, ye see,” he threaded his gnarled hands together and rested them on the small wooden table. “A very precious gift, indeed.” He stared at the table as if gathering the threads of the story he was about to tell. When he was ready, he lifted his head and began.

  “It was long ago, hundreds of years before now, when one of the Chiefs of Clan MacLeod fell in love with a young woman. What the chief didn’t know at the time was that the woman was a bean sidhe—a faerie—but I doubt that would’ve stopped ‘im. They was in love, ye see, and there’s little that can stop true love. They married an’ lived happily for several years. Had a baby boy what was their greatest joy. But the chief didn’t know his wife had made an agreement with her father—she could only stay for a certain length of time. At the end of that time she had to return to the Otherworld and bring nothing from the mortal world with her.”

  His voice was low and melodic and Tiki sat mesmerized by the tale he told, his words creating images of people she’d never met.

  “Well, the time up and came where the faerie had to depart. She and her husband bade a tearful farewell at the Faerie Bridge,” he pointed out a little window, “right down yonder, not far from the castle. Before she left she bade her husband promise the baby would never be allowed to cry, for she would be able to hear his cries in the faerie realms. Her heartbroken husband agreed an’ they parted ways.

  One day passed into another an’ the chief remained distraught at the loss of his love. His clan was so concerned that they organized a party for him. A young nursemaid was assigned to take care of his son but the party went on well into the night an’ the young maid had never seen such a revelry. There was music an’ dancing under the stars an’ she crept from the baby’s room to watch the goings-on. It was then that the baby woke an’ began to cry.”

  He stopped and lifted his cup to his lips.

  “And what happened?” Tiki asked.

  O’course, the mother heard the wee babe from far away in that Otherworld an’ she appeared at his cradle. She wrapped her baby in a piece of fabric—some say it was her shawl, others say it was a flag—but she sang a sweet lullaby to her son until he slept again. When the chief came to the baby’s room to check on his son, he found him wrapped in a golden silk sewn with what looked like red elf berries.”

  “She didn’t take him back to Faerie?” Tiki asked

  Rory shook his head. “When the child grew to be a young man he told his father that the flag was Am Bratach Sith—a gift from his mother. Should they ever find themselves in danger they should wave the flag an’ armies from the faerie realm would come to their aid.” He held up a crooked finger. “However, there was a condition—the Faerie Flag could only be used three times an’ then it would disappear an’ return to Faerie.”

  “Oh my,” Tiki said. “That is a wonderful story.”

  “Has the flag ever been waved?” Dain asked.

  “It’s been used twice: once when the clan was in battle against the MacDonalds an’ once when the MacLeod cattle herds were stricken with plague an’ the clan members were dying of starvation. Both times the chief waved the flag an’ the faeries saved them.”

  Larkin smiled at the old man. “Sounds like the flag has one last go in it.”

  “Yes, indeed. It’s there for when we need it the most.”

  “Where do you possibly keep such a valuable treasure?” Tiki asked innocently, lifting her cup to sip her tea.

  The caretaker didn’t blink. “You’d have to ask Chief MacLeod. That secret is not mine to keep.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  “Wills!” Leo’s jaw sagged. “What a surprise! Your cousin told me you’d left for Scotland.”

  “You saw Dain?” Rieker’s expression mirrored the surprise on the young prince’s.

  “Just yesterday.” Leo grabbed Rieker’s arm and pulled him into the small sitting room. “Come in here so we can talk in private.”

  “Uh—Leo—” Rieker resisted the tug on his arm.

  “What is it?”

  “I’m not alone.”

  Leo frowned. “What? Who’s with you?” He leaned out the door to peer down the hallway.

  “They’re not out there. The guards thought it best if I came up by myself.”

  “And who have you brought to visit?”

  Rieker glanced over one shoulder and then the other before lowering his voice. “The children. We were headed for Scotland for their safety—but I wasn’t far outside of London when I realized we were being followed.”

  “Followed! By whom?”

  Rieker pressed his lips in a thin line. “I don’t think you want to know.”

  Leo’s eyes widened. “You’re serious?”

  “This was the only place I could bring them where I knew they’d be safe. Do you think the children could stay with you for a bit?”

  Leo’s mouth opened and closed and opened again before any words came out. “Of course. We’ve plenty of room—”

  “I know it’s a lot to ask but there’s no one else I trust.”

  “Say no
more.” Leo held his hand up. “It’s past the supper hour. Have any of you eaten?” He pushed past Rieker and began marching down the hallway before Rieker could answer. “Bring the children to the lower drawing room and we’ll feed them before we send them to bed. Then you and I must talk.”

  IT WAS SEVERAL hours later when they reconvened in a small sitting room on the second floor near Leo’s private chambers. They sank into a pair of dark leather chairs and Rieker leaned his head back against the cushion with a sigh of relief.

  “Thank you for taking us in, Leo. I wasn’t quite sure what I was going to do. Having to care for the children changed everything.”

  “Yes, I can imagine. Probably better to have staff for that sort of thing.”

  Rieker gave a short laugh. “I can see where it would come in handy at times.”

  “What is your plan now?”

  Rieker ran a hand through his dark hair. “I need to find Tiki, except I don’t know exactly where she is.” He looked at his friend. “It could take me a while.”

  Leo waved a hand through the air. “The children can stay. No worries. You do what must be done. It seems that the, uh…situation, has taken a turn for the worst.”

  “Yes. You said you’d seen Dain? Where was this?”

  “It was yesterday, late afternoon. I called on your townhome and he answered the door. I’d just had an enlightening conversation with Mamie and my mother and stopped by to share what I’d learned.”

  “And Dain answered the door at Grosvenor Square?” Rieker had an incredulous tone in his voice.

  “Yes. In the morning, you should travel directly there and find him. I gave him something very valuable intended for you.”

  “And what was that?”