The Faerie Queen (The Faerie Ring #4)

by Kiki Hamilton

  “Kieran?” The name exploded from Rieker’s and Dain’s lips at the same moment.

  She held her hand up and her voice gentled— “and he is also your birth father.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Tiki’s gasp echoed like a cannon shot in the silence. It was as if time had become suspended in that moment. Then the room exploded in questions.

  “Kieran’s alive?” The hope in Dain’s voice was unmistakable.

  “Our birth father?” Rieker’s words were thick with disbelief.

  “The Jester?” Tiki squeaked.

  Larkin held her hands up to stop further questions. “I know it’s a shock but let me speak before I change my mind. There’s more you need to know.”

  “Tell us,” Dain and Rieker said at the same moment.

  “More?” Tiki whispered.

  “The Jester’s last name is Winterbourne.”

  “Kieran told me that was my last name,” Dain exclaimed.

  Larkin raised her eyebrows. “He must have sensed his life was at risk then.”

  “What does it mean?” Rieker asked.

  Larkin’s face remained impassive. “Winterbourne is an ancient name, from a line of fey who were UnSeelie by birth but left the courts long ago to strike their own path.”

  Tiki looked from Rieker to Dain. “UnSeelie? What are you saying? That William and Dain are—”

  Rieker finished her sentence. “UnSeelie?”

  “Half.” Larkin said in a matter-of-fact way. “Breanna was Seelie, Fial was UnSeelie, but he was born to the light.”

  “Wait.” Rieker shook his head as he held his palms toward Larkin. “I don’t understand. My father, Will Richmond, was not our birth father?”

  “No.”

  “But before you said—”

  “I lied.”

  “I thought faeries couldn’t lie,” Tiki said.

  “Don’t be ridiculous.” Larkin snorted. “Yet another convenient mis-truth that we use to suit our purposes. You should know by now that we are powerful creatures far beyond the abilities of mortals—”

  Rieker interrupted her. “You’re telling us our real father is alive?”

  Larkin raised her chin a notch so she appeared to be looking down her nose at him. Her eyes were slitted in a calculating expression. “Yes.”

  “And you want me to believe that our father is the man we knew as Kieran and also as the Court Jester?”

  “You’ve got it all exactly right, William.” Larkin clapped. “Bravo.”

  Rieker’s eyes narrowed and one side of his mouth lifted in a sneer. “Why do you think we would believe the madness you spew, Larkin?” He pushed himself to his feet. “I’ve often wondered at your loyalties, but now I wonder at your sanity. This time you’ve gone too far.”

  Larkin remained unaffected by Rieker’s reaction. “You have just confirmed that we have been successful in hiding our true purpose. Think it through, William. It was our goal to bury the truth so deeply, beneath so many layers of lies, that no one would ever suspect the truth of who we were and what we were doing. If they knew or found out—we would be dead—as most of us are.” Her lips pressed in a thin line as she gazed at Rieker. “We had to do it this away—to keep you and Dain alive.”

  Dain remained seated and seemed much less shocked by the news. “You mean we’re not half-mortal?”

  Larkin shook her head. “No. Of course not. You’re pure fey, though of mixed blood, to be sure.” One corner of her mouth quirked in a taunting smile as her gaze shifted to Rieker. “Not a mortal half-breed, after all. Just a fey half-breed.”

  Rieker’s mouth tightened. “You’ll have to give me some proof to believe this, Larkin.”

  “I know it’s difficult, William, especially given the mortal upbringing you’ve suffered. This is difficult for me as well. We’ve hidden these secrets for so long because our lives depended on it—all of our lives—that even now, when I know I must tell you, I worry that my revelations will put us at even greater risk.”

  Dain leaned forward, an eager expression on his face. “I’ve seen the Jester loads of times and he’s never acted any differently towards me than anyone else. Are you sure—”

  “And because of that, you are still alive to speak of it.”

  “Hmmmm, he is old enough to be my father—” Dain mused.

  “Dain,” Rieker barked, “are you going to believe what she tells you? Don’t you find it a little farfetched to believe the Court Jester—the clown, the juggler, the Fool—is our father?”

  Dain returned Rieker’s glare with a steady look of his own. “I understand your disbelief, William, but anyone borne to Faerie knows the term Fool is not literal. I’ve seen the man juggle fire. He can skewer the highest Lord with just the twist of a phrase, and he can create birds out of thin air. He may be a juggler but he knows powerful magic, not to mention he knows the secrets of Kings and Queens—which probably makes him the most powerful man at Court. Let’s listen to what she has to say.”

  “William.” Larkin snapped. “Sit down. We don’t have much time. If Donegal has imprisoned the Jester, then he must suspect him of treachery, which means he might know far more than I suspected. The Jester and I are the only ones left alive who know the truth. I will not let Donegal sacrifice him, too. I must return to the Otherworld and save him. You lot will have to go on and find the MacLeod’s and the flag. That is ours—and your father’s—only chance.”

  Tiki tugged on Rieker’s hand. She had a terrible feeling that Larkin was speaking the truth. “Wills,” she said softly. “Let’s listen.”

  Rieker’s gaze darted down to where Tiki still sat on the floor. “You don’t mean to tell me—”

  “Think about it—who gave us the clue about Fate and Truth to find the Stone of Tara? Who told us not to fear the water so we would know how to get to Dain when he was imprisoned in the White Tower?” Tiki’s voice was beginning to rise. “Who gave us the card that could have led us to the Fourth Treasure if we’d only been smart enough to figure it out—”

  Dain reached over and yanked on Rieker’s other arm, pulling him to the floor. “Sit down and shut up. We’re going to hear what Larkin has to say.”

  Rieker muttered under his breath as he pulled a crate over and sat on it, his lips pressed in an angry line.

  Larkin tilted her head toward Dain. “Thank you. I can’t possibly tell you all of it now—”

  “No, of course not—” Rieker interrupted— “because then someone might know as much as you and you wouldn’t be able to yank our strings and force us to dance for you over and over again—”

  “If you are quite finished, William—” Larkin spoke in an icy tone— “I will tell you what you need to know and then we must be on our way.” She stared at Rieker as if she expected him to interrupt again but he held his tongue.

  Larkin took a deep breath. “Now then. Fial is the Jester’s true name—your father’s name. Fial Lasair Cathall Winterbourne—a man of honor and unbelievable strength.” Her voice quieted and her eyes became distant. “You should be proud to call him father. His bravery is unmatched by anything the rest of us have done, for you see, your father is the ultimate spy. He has lived between two worlds and belonged to neither for most of his life—all for the sake of a promise made long ago. Those who have known his secrets and his sacrifice have been murdered one-by-one: Finn, Eridanus, Adasara—even Breanna—until only he and I remain.”

  Dain leaned toward Larkin. “Why is he such a threat to Donegal?”

  “Because he knows great magic—much more than anything the Winter King can accomplish—and he knows secrets that Donegal doesn’t want revealed.”

  “If he’s so powerful, why does he act the fool?” Rieker asked. “Aren’t there other positions he could assume for one court or the other?”

  “As Dain said, the term is not literal. Fial chose carefully when he became the Jester—and he doesn’t reveal himself because he has secrets of his own. It’s not in his best interest, or
that of the courts, to reveal all—which is precisely why we have operated in the shadows and behind glamours all these years—waiting for the right time to overthrow Donegal.”

  “You mentioned a promise—what was that?” Tiki asked.

  “To stop the killing and reunite the courts as one. To live side by side with the mortals in peace. And most importantly—to create a future where one wasn’t labeled Seelie or UnSeelie, but simply as fey.”

  “But what is he?” Dain asked. “Seelie or UnSeelie?”

  “Fial is a Winterbourne,” Larkin said, “which makes him UnSeelie by birth but the Winterbournes left the UnSeelie Court long ago and created their own autonomous political world. Because of that, their name is rarely spoken here anymore.”

  “Did they leave because they wanted to be Seelie?” Tiki asked.

  “Not exactly. They wanted the right to live and act as they pleased—whether it be in the light or the dark; the Plain of Sunlight or the Plain of Starlight—the Night Garden, the Wychwood Forest or the hills of Tara.” Larkin’s lips twisted in a sad smile. “Fial’s troubles started when he fell in love with a Seelie girl named Breanna. Her father was an underlord of one of the fifths of Connacht.”

  Dain interrupted. “What’s an underlord?”

  “A sort of royalty back in the day—in ancient Ireland there were five kingdoms called fifths that were ruled by underlords. They, in turn, were ruled by the Seelie king. Breanna’s Seelie heritage and the fact that her father was among the politically elite, made their relationship impossible on many levels. But they were in love and headstrong. They believed they were invincible, so they disobeyed their parents and ran away and married. It wasn’t long before Breanna was pregnant—” Larkin lifted her long, elegant fingers toward Dain and Rieker— “with the two of you.”

  Tiki glanced at Rieker’s face. His eyes were hooded, shielding his thoughts; his expression cold and unreachable—reminding her of when they had first met, when she’d considered him dangerous.

  Larkin smoothed her gown over her knees and continued. “Fial and Breanna did have enough sense to know that children of mixed parents would not be accepted in any part of fey society—so they moved often and hid the truth. Eventually they landed in London. Fial had already begun to use the glamour of Kieran. He knew his family was looking for him—particularly his brother—so he made a pact with Finn and Eridanus—if they helped keep the two of you alive, Fial told them he would commit his life to the promise of rejoining the courts. That’s why Eridanus sent you to London, William, to live with a mortal family who owed him a favor—” her gaze shifted to Dain— “and why you, Dain, stayed in the Otherworld. They had to keep you apart. They couldn’t take the chance that someone might uncover the truth of your heritage.”

  Dain squirmed. “So what happened?”

  “Shortly after the two of you were sent away, Fial and Breanna were found by Fial’s family. Breanna was murdered. They came for Fial next. They carved a letter T—for traitor—across his back, beat him until they believed he was dead, then tied him to a rock and threw him in the river to drown—just to be sure.” Larkin’s voice became fierce. “But Fial survived.”

  “You’re serious?” Dain glanced over at his brother, but Rieker remained expressionless. “How could anyone survive that?”

  Larkin’s nostrils flared with emotion. “His will was stronger than that of his attackers. But the UnSeelies are a brutal lot and unrelenting. To survive, Fial knew he had to stay dead.”

  Larkin pushed off the rickety chair, and paced to the back of the little room. “But the courts were in disarray. Eridanus was helping Finn who had been mortally wounded in battle. As I told you before, Finn didn’t die immediately. Instead, he suffered a slow lingering death, a piece of iron arrowhead lodged in his lung. After his death, rumours swirled that he and Adasara had had a child—an heir to the Seelie throne, so Donegal placed a bounty on Adasara’s head and that of the child’s, if it existed. Arrangements to hide Tara had barely been made before Adasara was also murdered—” Larkin’s voice faded away, her face creased with painful memories. “And now, only Fial and I are left.”

  “It’s a sad tale, to be sure.” Rieker’s voice sounded razor-sharp in the shadowed silence of the dim room. “But if Kieran, or Fial—whatever name you’d like to use—was UnSeelie, and he was supposedly our father, why did he tell me I was descended from Eridanus?”

  Larkin turned from where she stood by the cold box stove. “Kieran was preparing you for your future.”

  “How does telling me I’m descended from Seelie royalty prepare me for anything?” Rieker spat. “Especially when it’s another lie.”

  Tiki wondered at the expression on Larkin’s face. It was a strange mix of pride and sorrow.

  “William,” Larkin’s voice was deceptively gentle. “I applaud your passion—it speaks well of your ability to face what the future holds for you—” her gaze moved from Rieker to Dain to Tiki— “for all of you.”

  “For once, just tell us the truth,” Rieker snarled.

  Larkin raised her eyebrows. “You want the truth, but then you don’t believe me when I tell you. It’s one of the reasons I only reveal pieces at a time—”

  “Why, Larkin?”

  “Because you are descended from Eridanus,” Larkin snapped. “Fial is also the son of a mixed relationship. His father was the child of a Winterbourne lover that Eridanus took centuries ago. Fial himself is a half-breed, though Eridanus never publicly acknowledged any relation to him. Fial was raised in Winterbourne until his mother left to join the UnSeelie Court, but the blood of Eridanus runs in his veins, just as it does in yours and Dain’s.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  The guard held the torch high above his head to light the roughhewn stone steps that led down into the rocky depths of Wydryn Tor. Far below the Palace of Mirrors Donegal followed the flickering flame to a dungeon he had created long ago for precisely this kind of prisoner: someone who could never be allowed to escape; someone who could never be allowed to speak the truth.

  At the bottom of the stone stairs a stern-faced guard stood before a wooden door, an iron-tipped spear clutched in one hand. A horizontal slit at the top of the door allowed the guard to view the prisoner and a small cut-out at the bottom of the door allowed what little food and drink that was granted to be slid through the opening.

  Donegal motioned to the guard. “Is the prisoner chained?”

  “Yes sire.” He lowered his eyes and bowed. “Hands and feet.”

  “Open the door then.” The Winter King pointed up the stairs into the darkness. “I want total privacy. There is a landing above us some thirty steps. You may wait for me there.” He reached for the torch. “Both of you.”

  The guards hurried to do his bidding, their boots echoing against the stone steps as they climbed up to the landing. Donegal waited until he was sure they were positioned out of earshot before he entered the dim cell and carefully pulled the heavy door closed behind him. He lifted the torch, using the wavering pool of light to locate the prisoner.

  Crumpled on his side and tucked into one of the dark corners, the orange glow from the flame glinted off the manacles that bound the Jester’s wrists and ankles, making the metal shimmer as if it were on fire. Donegal stepped closer, illuminating the bloody face of his prisoner.

  “Hello Fial.” He nudged the prisoner with the toe of his boot. “Imagine my disbelief when I saw the scar on your back.” Donegal spoke softly, yet a deadly timbre echoed in his voice. “What an interesting surprise to find the brother I thought I had murdered so very long ago—has actually never left me at all.”

  Chapter Twenty

  “I have a question.” Dain broke the silence that had filled the room as they absorbed the shocking news Larkin had shared. “Why did Kieran abandon me? All these years I’ve wondered if he was dead or imprisoned—”

  A flicker of emotion crossed Larkin’s face and for a second Tiki thought she saw something that looked lik
e sympathy. Then Larkin’s face hardened and she spoke in a matter-of-fact tone. “He left you to save your life. Donegal and his followers were asking too many questions. He must have suspected something. Fial knew the time was approaching when he needed to inform you and William of your true heritage—of the promise.

  He went to London as Kieran and found William, intending to tell him the truth—but it was too risky—Donegal and his inner circle were suspicious, sniffing around too close to William—and to me. Then Donegal murdered William’s mortal family and Fial feared the Winter King had somehow found William out. Fial didn’t dare reveal the truth then—in fact, he didn’t dare have any contact with either of you. So he gave Kieran up and has lived only as the Jester these last few years, communicating with me and biding his time to share the truth with both of you.”

  “If any of us survive,” Rieker said with a hint of bitterness.

  “I think I believe you,” Dain said softly. “It all fits.”

  Tiki glanced from Dain to Rieker. She’d always wondered about Kieran’s sudden appearance in Rieker’s life—as well as his knowledge of the Otherworld. What Larkin was describing did make sense. But Tiki’s stomach roiled with an uneasy feeling that Larkin had not shared everything yet. She feared there were more surprises to come.

  Rieker’s voice was neutral when he spoke, revealing nothing. “How will you free the Jester? The Palace of Mirrors, the White Tower, the Plain of Starlight—wherever they are holding him—those areas are impenetrable. What is your plan?”

  “Why is it your concern?” Larkin smirked at him with familiar arrogance. “Unless you’re planning to help me?”

  Rieker didn’t blink. “Perhaps. I’m not sure how, to be honest.”

  “It’s no different than what you’ve done the last few years, William—running through the underbelly of London pretending to be a pickpocket.” She shrugged. “You dress a certain way, you play a particular part—you become someone else to gain information.” Her gaze flicked over to Tiki and the dare was clearly communicated. “It’s simple: to find and free the Jester we must become UnSeelie.”