The Faerie Queen (The Faerie Ring #4)

by Kiki Hamilton

  TIKI LEFT FOR the Plain of Starlight at night. She needed to travel light and fast—without Toran following in an attempt to protect her. She would protect herself. On her back she carried a bow and an endless quiver of arrows. There were knives in her boots and attached to her belt. A light, but deadly sabre was tied to the side of her saddle. Those weapons along with her control of the four elements would have to be sufficient.

  The horse she took was black as ink and fast as the wind. The beast reminded her of the first time Dain had shown her Aeveen in the field near O’Donoghue’s farm. The white horse had galloped toward them and Tiki would have sworn her hooves never touched the ground.

  Tiki was dressed in black as well, her hair braided down her back, no glamour to shield her features. She wanted those she met to recognize the Seelie Queen and to know Donegal and anyone who helped him would suffer her wrath.

  SHE’D NEVER BEEN so far into UnSeelie territory before—she knew only that the UnSeelie stronghold was located in the darkness on the far horizon. It seemed an easy enough trip—around Wydryn Tor and through the Wychwood to the far side. Her plan of what to do after she arrived was still a bit murky, but she was determined she would not rest until her family had been found and were safely in her care again.

  NIGHT TURNED TO day and then to night again. The horse never seemed to tire and Tiki let the beast have its head. Memories pounded through her mind as the hooves pounded through the Wychwood and more than once the wind dried tears that had left trails down her face.

  It was on the third day, when the sun should have risen above the horizon, but didn’t, that Tiki knew she had reached the Plain of Starlight. She pulled the horse up and led it toward a dark brook to drink. As the horse plunged his muzzle into the water Tiki debated climbing down and getting a drink herself. Her body ached from the long ride and her throat was parched.

  She eyed the forest around them. With a shrill cawwww! a black bird landed on a stump of wood half-submerged in the stream. The bird cocked his head, staring at her with his one visible eye as if challenging her. As Tiki watched the bird’s odd behavior, she noticed that the log the bird sat upon also had an eye that was staring at her.

  Unsettled, Tiki tugged on the reins to pull her horse’s head from the water. She nudged her heels into his sides, urging him back away from the river. As if in slow motion, other shapes became visible—the white bleached skull that floated nearby; the ears laid flat against the long head and the flared nostrils of what she had thought was a half-submerged log.

  Tiki bit back a gasp of horror. The ‘log’ was a water kelpie, submerged just below the surface. If she had climbed down from her horse would it have attacked?

  She wheeled her horse around and jabbed her heels into his sides, anxious to be gone from the stream. The forest had changed as they rode—from healthy green trees to brown trees that had died where they stood. Barren branches reached out, reminding her of the Night Garden during winter, some blocking the trail.

  Tiki had ducked under several branches when the trail forked and she pulled her horse to a stop, unsure which direction to go. A breeze rattled through the dead wood and she looked up to find dirty little men were crouched among the branches watching her.

  “Who goes there?” One of them cried in a high, raspy voice that sounded like the caw of the black bird.

  Tiki sat straighter in the saddle. “Tara MacLochlan. I seek the UnSeelie Court. Can you tell me which way to go?”

  The men muttered among themselves in bird-like chirps.

  The same man spoke again. He leaned forward, his long toes wrapped around the branch to secure his place in the dead tree. “The Court is in session at the Palace of Mirrors upon Wydryn Tor.”

  “I am seeking several of Donegal’s prisoners.” Tiki’s tone brooked no argument. “Where will I find the Plain of Starlight?”

  The men muttered among themselves again, their chirps sounding more alarmed this time.

  “Has Donegal sent you?”

  “Yes.” Tiki toyed with the idea of shooting a bolt of lightning at the base of the leader’s tree to encourage him to answer but he spoke again.

  “There.” He pointed down the left fork of the road. “That path leads to the UnSeelie camp, but there’s no one there. Donegal has sent everyone to attack the Plain of Sunlight.”

  Tiki’s eyes narrowed into a glare of hatred. In her mind’s eye she could clearly see the devastation and death that Donegal had brought upon the Plain of Sunlight. “Why haven’t you gone, then?”

  The man flapped his arms like a bird then hopped to another branch. “Can’t fly, can’t walk. The Winter King didn’t want us.”

  “But you make wonderful sentries. Perhaps the Winter King has sold you short.”

  The men chirped among themselves in tones of surprise as Tiki nodded her thanks and kicked her horse into motion. She wondered if she would recognize the UnSeelie stronghold when she saw it.

  She need not have worried. Less than thirty minutes later a familiar silhouette shadowed the path: bodies impaled on stakes. There was no way to avoid riding past the grisly sight and she averted her eyes as she drew close to the first stake. Her horse shied away with a nervous whinny and Tiki’s focus shifted from avoiding looking at the dead bodies to controlling her horse. In the process, her gaze inadvertently fell upon the face of the dead soldier.

  Bushy eyebrows, a beak-like nose, a jutting chin and an odd hump on his back—it was the hobgoblin who had watched them when she and Rieker had gone in search of the Cup. His long braid dangled in thin air as if he swung in play from a tree limb.

  With a cry of rage, she swung her sabre free and sliced through the stake that held the dead hobgoblin suspended in midair. His body tumbled into the underbrush and disappeared as the vines on the ground wriggled with sudden life to wrap their arms around the corpse.

  Tiki stared down the row of dead bodies that lined the path. Were these the hobgoblins who had resisted Donegal’s attempt to make them fight for the UnSeelie Court? Would she find Gestle, the hobgoblin who had helped her and Rieker save Dain from the White Tower, among the dead?

  Her breath was ragged in her throat as she rode down the trail, slicing each stake in half as she passed, letting the bodies tumble to the ground. She couldn’t possibly bury all these dead, but the forest seemed to be reclaiming its own.

  Where before she had thought she would avoid looking at the dead, she checked every face—afraid to find Gestle, while at the same time hopeful she would not.

  The bodies didn’t stop until she reached a stone archway that she presumed led into the headquarters of the UnSeelie Court. She had not recognized Gestle’s face among the dead.

  Disturbingly similar to the opening that led into the Seelie Court on the Plain of Sunlight, Tiki stared at the nondescript doorway that led into the UnSeelie stronghold. What would she find inside? More death? Or would she find the lives she so desperately sought?

  “DON’T LEAVE ME,” Tiki whispered into the ear of her horse before she tied the reins to the saddle and set the horse free. “I might need you again.”

  The horse jerked its head as if in assent then ambled toward a patch of trees that appeared half alive and sprouted green leaves.

  Tiki adjusted the strap of her quiver, the bow held tightly in one hand as she walked boldly in through the arched stone entry. The outside was shadowed with no moon or sun to light the way, but inside the doorway was pitch black. Tiki stopped, waiting for her eyes to adjust but it was so dark she couldn’t even make out which direction to walk.

  “How does anyone bloody well see in here?” she muttered under her breath. She scooted one foot in front of the other but it was hopeless. She groped along the wall until she found what she sought—a torch, waiting to be lit. With a flick of her wrist, fire spurted from the depths of the torch, the flames throwing a circle of light. “That’s more like it.”

  She held the torch high, wondering where everyone was. In the Seelie fort, there
were guards at the entry and at many points along the way to the interior. Here—there appeared to be no one. Had Donegal taken everyone to the Palace of Mirrors for winter? Or perhaps all of his troops were fighting the war.

  The tunnel wound back and forth in a meandering path. Where the Seelie stronghold was surprisingly opulent, this was barely more than a tunnel carved within the earth. Vines sprouted from some of the walls and the moist smell of dirt hung rich in the air. Tiki had just turned a corner when a huge shadow lunged at her with snapping teeth and talon-like claws. She reacted by instinct—she reached across her body and grasped a dagger, flicking it back into the face of her attacker. There was a loud *pop* and the huge shape exploded into a much smaller figure that hit the ground and ran away.

  “Spriggans.” Tiki yanked her bow up and aimed an arrow at another shadow further down the path. The metal tip hit its mark and the giant ogre popped and disappeared. One more came at her but Tiki made quick work of it with another arrow.

  She turned the corner and stared. A vast room stretched before her. Devoid of life, the space was littered with debris: wine bottles, empty and strewn all about the floor as if dropped where they’d been finished; half-chewed bones and maggot-infested meat littered table tops; chairs were tipped on their sides as if a party had ended in a horrific brawl.

  But that wasn’t what had riveted Tiki’s attention. It was the paintings on the walls of the circular room: Amazingly life-like, one was of Larkin, now with a red X painted over her face. Next to her were Dain and Rieker, both with a single black slash across their faces. A picture of Tiki covered the wall next to Rieker. And next to her picture—was an image of Clara—with a red X covering her face.

  Chapter Fifty-One

  “Breathe— in and out,” she commanded herself as she rode away from the stronghold of the Plain of Starlight. “He would not kill a little girl. She is more valuable alive than dead.” She bit her bottom lip to stop the sobs that roiled in her chest. “Larkin told me so,” she whispered, swiping tears from her cheek with the back of her hand. “Breathe—in and out. She is more valuable alive than dead.” She urged her mount faster. Aside from the pictures, there had not found any evidence that Rieker, Dain and Clara might be in that location. The only prison left was the Palace of Mirrors.

  AS WINTER HAD grown stronger the Night Garden had become a frozen sculpture—ice encased every thorn, bramble and bloom. It was in the hour before midnight that Tiki went back to Wydryn Tor disguised as she had been when they’d visited the palace with Larkin glamoured as Fachtna. She looked like a small UnSeelie male with a large, hooked nose and white hair pulled behind her neck. Her eyes were black rather than vibrant green and her shoulders bore a slight hunch, stretching the folds of her worn jacket.

  Dark shapes of Donegal’s soldiers patrolled the garden, something Tiki had never seen before. She had passed groups in the forest, as well. Luckily, as a lone traveler she had remained unseen where they had been many and easy to hear from a distance, allowing her to circumvent their path.

  She crouched low on the pathway and made herself as small as possible, praying she could avoid detection. Raucous noise rolled from the Palace of Mirrors as Donegal’s followers celebrated the Winter Solstice—the longest night of the year. Out in the Night Garden where Tiki crouched hidden, it was oddly silent—as if the world held its breath. She was counting the number of guards that surrounded the perimeter of the palace when a scratchy voice spoke close by her elbow.

  “Alms for the poor?”

  Tiki nearly screamed from fright. She whirled around to stare into a bone-thin face. The hooked nose and fanged lower jaw were unmistakable.

  “Ailléna! What are you doing out here? It’s freezing.”

  The little Redcap recoiled in surprise, her shaggy eyebrows pulling down over her nose in confusion. “Do I know yer?”

  “Oh.” Tiki put her hands to her face as she remembered her glamour. Did she dare tell the Redcap who she was? Could Ailléna help her find Rieker and Dain? She made a split-second decision. “It’s me—Tiki.”

  Ailléna tilted her head, her large hooked nose curling in doubt. “Who?”

  “The Seelie Queen.” Tiki mouthed the words but the frown on Ailléna’s face got deeper. “Yer are not my queen.”

  Tiki looked around in frustration. “Are you alone?”

  The look on the Redcap’s face turned to uncertainty. “Yes.”

  Tiki whispered the words to remove her glamour just long enough for Ailléna to recognize her. “You helped us find Corn na bhFuíoll—the Cup of Plenty after it became lost.” When the Redcaps sizeable mouth dropped open Tiki quickly reapplied her disguise.

  “Jumping Jack-in-Irons,” the little goblin gasped, “what are yer doin’ out here, Majesty? Alone? Donegal has his soldiers everywhere looking for yer, the Jester, anyone Seelie. Yer shouldn’t be here mum.”

  “I need your help.”

  “Certainly, Majesty.” Ailléna bobbed her head up and down, as she glanced over both shoulders with a look of apprehension. “Whatever yer need.”

  “First of all, you can’t call me that anymore,” Tiki whispered.

  “Yes, mum—but what should I call yer?”

  “Anything but that. How long have you been here on the Tor?”

  “Since Donegal burnt the fields ‘roun’ the Plain of Sunlight.” She shook her wizened head. “T’wern’t safe to stay without Larkin to protect me—” she hung her head—“bein’ a Redcap an’ all.” Her lower jaw began to tremble. “I still can’na believe she’s gone—” she gave a great shuddering sigh.

  “I know.” Tiki closed her eyes and took a deep breath, but it did no good for Larkin’s face was always there—looking back at her with sardonic amusement. How the faerie would have laughed to know the sadness Tiki felt at her departure. “I will make Donegal pay,” she promised.

  “But why are yer here, alone Maj…er..uh..sir?” She crept up next to Tiki and stared through the frozen brambles toward the palace. “Yer can’na be planning to attack the Winter King on yer own? That’s madness.”

  “No, I’m looking for my friends—Rieker—you remember him?”

  Aillena nodded.

  “And Dain—”

  The Redcap gave Tiki a hideous grin revealing all the fanged teeth that jutted over her upper jaw. “The handsom’ one.”

  “And there’s a child—Clara—I don’t think you’ve met her—”

  “The mortal girl Donegal stole from yer?”

  “Yes,” Tiki said, “that’s exactly who I’m looking for—have you heard anything?”

  The little goblin looked all around before she spoke and when she did Tiki could barely hear her. “The rumour is that while Donegal was fightin’ with Larkin somebody tried to cut the girl from her trap.”

  Tiki’s heart caught. “What happened?”

  “I’s just ‘eard the whispers outside the kitchens an’ whatnot, but they say the ones who tried to cut ‘er free are strung up in the Great Hall and the little ‘un is still hangin’ in the golden net.”

  “She’s alive?” Tiki’s heart soared before it promptly plummeted. “Strung up?”

  “The last I heard she’s alive but I can’na be sure. The other prisoner’s hands are tied by ropes so they can’na move.”

  Tiki took a shuddering breath. It was as she’d feared. That explained why no one had found her—they were all being held captive. It would be up to her to set them free.

  “And what of Donegal?”

  “I can’na say for sure, mum, but I’ve heard he’s been in meetings in the High Chamber since….since…” the goblin rubbed her clawed hands together— “the passin’.”

  “Since he murdered Larkin, you mean.”

  The little Redcap averted her eyes. “Yes.”

  “I’m going to need your help, Ailléna.”

  “Anything, Majesty, but yer know I can’na go into the palace right now—they’re not lettin’ anyone in who isn’t part of Court.”
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  “I know. That’s all right. Here’s what I want you to do….”

  ONCE SHE HAD given instructions to the goblin, Tiki cut through the frozen Night Garden toward the Palace of Mirrors. The garden was eerily quiet as she made her way close to the side of the building and as she passed one of the luminescent blooms encased in ice she realized why it seemed so silent—the garden wasn’t singing—the ice had muted their song.

  Tiki drew in a deep breath of the cold air. Somewhere along the building there was a door. She’d escaped out of the palace through it once with Dain. Now she needed to find it to sneak into the palace.

  MORE THAN AN hour had passed and Tiki still hadn’t located the door. The side of the building was immense and the brambles seemed especially thick close to the palace. The thorns tore at her clothes like tiny fingers and her teeth chattered with cold. Frustrated, she closed her eyes and tried to envision what she had seen when Dain had led her from the palace that night when they’d escaped from Donegal. It had been dark and the path had led through a maze of brambles for a short time before they’d reached the steep edge of the Tor.

  ‘You have to jump.’

  Tiki’s eyes flew open. She remembered. Dain had led her to the edge of the cliff where a secret path twisted down the side of the Tor. The door had not been far from the spot where Dain had told her she had to jump. If she started at the edge of the mountain, maybe she could work her way back to the door that led into the palace.

  The moon had crested and begun its downward descent, peeking occasionally through the layers of dark clouds that gathered above the palace. By the shadowy light, she wound her way to the edge of the mountain which cut away in a sheer drop. She inched forward to cautiously peer over the cliff. A wrong step and she would plummet to a sure death. Below, she could make out the tops of the trees of the Wychwood Forest. Cut out of the side of the mountain was a rocky little trail.