by Jenna Black
I didn’t tell Arawn I’d been thinking about turning the Bogles to stone, not making them mortal. Somehow, I didn’t think that would have been any kinder or gentler a spell to have cast. There was no denying I’d intended to kill the Bogles.
“It was self-defense,” I said, telling myself that it was silly to feel guilty about killing things that had been trying to kill me.
I felt Arawn nod, but he didn’t say anything more. And, ridiculous as it seemed, I now felt certain he was … well, maybe not afraid of me, exactly. But unsettled by me, for sure. We had already established that I was unlikely ever to use my magic against him. Now we knew I could reproduce the spell I’d used against Aunt Grace, but I still didn’t know if I could do it when I wasn’t under attack. I was sure I couldn’t use it to cold-bloodedly kill someone.
“It bothers you, knowing I can do this,” I said, though I probably should have just kept my mouth shut and hoped Arawn let it go. So far, he’d saved my life twice—not because he was so all-fired fond of me, but because if I was dead, I couldn’t give him my virginity. But what if he decided I was too dangerous? After all, I might be the only person in either of our worlds who was capable of killing him. I had a feeling that if he sided with those who wanted me dead, my life expectancy would be less than sixty seconds.
Behind me, I felt Arawn’s shoulders lift in a shrug. “I won’t pretend it isn’t disturbing. But I know you would only use it against your enemies, and as a last resort. And I am not your enemy.”
I supposed it depended on how you defined enemy, but Arawn had declared himself my ally, and I believed he meant it. At least, he’d meant it before he’d seen what my magic could do. There was something … off in his tone of voice. And he had put a little bit of space between us on the saddle. Not so much that I didn’t keep bumping into him, but enough so that he wasn’t rubbing up against me anymore. I appreciated the personal space, but I really hoped it didn’t mean Arawn was starting to reconsider my value to him. I had more than enough enemies already.
Chapter Ten
It seemed to take forever to catch up with the caravan. Phaedra had covered a lot of ground in her headlong rush.
The wind was blowing into our faces, and I smelled the carnage before it came into view. Bogles stink to high heaven, and there was an overlay of blood and fear that made it almost overpowering. Or maybe I was just imagining it.
When we finally rode around a bend to the site of the attack, my stomach heaved, and I had to close my eyes and hold my breath in hopes that I wasn’t going to barf all over myself.
There were bodies everywhere, though in my first brief glimpse, I saw only Bogles and a handful of horses. No humans. Er, Fae. Of course, maybe the prince’s people had already carried the dead away from the battlefield.
I opened my eyes again, bracing myself for what I was going to see.
Still lots of bodies, and lots of blood. Some of the prince’s men—servants, not Knights—were piling the dead Bogles together. The pile was already alarmingly high, and there were plenty more bodies littered all around the outskirts of the road. Not all of them were whole, and I did my best not to look at them.
A couple of the wagons had been knocked over, and there were at least three dead horses, but considering the staggering number of Bogles that lay slaughtered on the ground, the battle had gone fairly well. It told me a little something about the power of the Fae I traveled with that they could fight off an attack of this magnitude with so few obvious casualties.
People were hard at work fixing wagons, bandaging wounds, and cleaning weapons. Too busy to see us approach at first. But then someone spotted us, and a cry of alarm went up among the assembled Fae. Behind me, I felt the Erlking sit up straighter, like he was trying to make himself even bigger and more intimidating than he already was.
The prince’s Knights moved quickly to stand between the Wild Hunt and their liege, although it wasn’t like the Erlking could attack anyone from the Seelie Court, not with the geis he’d allowed the Queens to put on him. But that didn’t stop him and his Hunt from being a source of terror. Several of the Fae looked like they were about to pass out from fear, although the Knights just looked grim.
I heard my father’s voice call my name. I strained my eyes trying to see around the Knights. I caught sight of movement, then saw my father, pushing his way through the gawking Fae, Finn and Ethan following close behind him. Keane and Kimber were coming from the other side of the gathering, moving more slowly because they weren’t as aggressive about shoving people out of the way.
The Erlking reined his horse to a halt while still about fifty feet away from the Knights. My dad finally made it to the front, but the Knights blocked his way. I saw the spark of fury in my dad’s eyes, and realized that Ethan hadn’t been exaggerating when he said my dad was “beside himself.” He looked like he was about to explode. I wasn’t close enough to tell, but from the way the Knights whirled toward him, I guessed my dad was pulling magic, maybe about to do something stupid.
“Dad! Don’t!” I yelled. I tried to slide off the horse, but Arawn put an arm around my waist and held me.
“Not yet,” he said. “Someone might get twitchy if you make any sudden moves.”
“Let go of me,” I growled, but he just held me tighter.
I prayed Dad wouldn’t cast anything on the Knights who were blocking his way. I suspected that would be the kind of breach of etiquette that could get him in a whole lot of trouble, especially when the prince had it in for him anyway.
Finn reached out and laid a hand on my dad’s arm, leaning forward and saying something I couldn’t hear. Dad winced, then closed his eyes, visibly taking a deep breath to steady himself. When he opened them again, he looked outwardly calm, his bland Court mask back in place. But the Knights still regarded him warily.
“Now you can get down,” Arawn said. “But move slowly. They’re on edge, still in battle mode. It wouldn’t take much to trigger them.”
I didn’t much want his advice, but I listened to it anyway. I kept a close eye on the Knights as Arawn helped me slide to the ground. I was glad for his steadying hand, because it was a long way down. The Knights looked every bit as on edge as he’d said, so I walked slowly and held my hands away from my sides, trying to look as harmless as possible. Not that that was hard. As my aunt Grace and the Bogles could have told you, I’m not actually harmless, but I definitely look it.
My dad said something to the Knight closest to him. The Knight frowned, then stepped aside with apparent reluctance. My dad slipped past him, although Finn and Ethan stayed behind. Dad walked slowly toward me. After everything I’d seen and been through in the last half hour or so, I wanted to run to him and fling my arms around him—a gesture of affection I’m sure he’d have had no idea what to do with.
We met about halfway between the two groups. I wished the Erlking would take his Hunt and leave, because as long as he loomed there, the tension was going to stay dialed up to maximum.
“Are you all right?” my dad asked, his voice controlled and tight.
“I’m fine,” I assured him, though I wasn’t sure it was quite true. I’d seen more death since I’d come to Avalon than I’d ever imagined, but I’d never seen anything like today. Breaking down and having a fit of hysteria seemed like a reasonable thing to do, although at that moment, I was pretty numb. “What about you?” There was blood on his shirt, and I gasped when I saw the five parallel tears in his sleeve. Blood soaked his shirt around the tears, although there was no sign of a wound.
“I’m fine, too,” he said, then followed my eyes to the tear on his shirt. “It was just a scratch, and Finn healed it for me.” He reached for me, startling me by pulling me into a hug. “I thought I’d lost you,” he said into my hair, his voice choked with emotion.
I hugged him back, my throat tightening up so much I couldn’t talk. Sometimes, I felt like my dad saw me as nothing more than a tool to help further his political ambitions. Then there were times
like these, when he let me see what lay beneath his polished exterior, and I realized he really did love me. And I loved him right back.
Dad broke the hug before I had a chance to say something sappy and started guiding me back to the caravan. The Knights were still blocking the road, and I saw that Kimber and Keane had joined Ethan and Finn, waiting for me just beyond the barricade. Maybe it was my imagination, but I could have sworn I felt the Erlking’s eyes on me the entire time.
I looked back over my shoulder as the line of Knights parted to let us through. Arawn gave me a jaunty wave, then turned his horse and led his Hunt back down the road away from us. I had no doubt he’d be staying close on our tail, even if he was pretending to go away.
The Knights finally relaxed, and the rest of the prince’s people lost interest as the Wild Hunt rode away. Except for the prince, that is. Surrounded by his Knights—not a mark on him and not a hair out of place—he stormed in our direction with murder in his eyes. This didn’t look good.
Dad put his arm around my shoulder and made a little shooing motion at my friends. “I suggest you retreat,” he said. “This may get unpleasant.”
Ethan drew himself up, all offended dignity. “I’m not the type to run away from trouble.”
Keane and Kimber both took up similarly stubborn stances. Maybe they all thought they could help protect me, but if the prince had his panties in a twist, I didn’t think it fair for my friends to be caught in the middle.
“Just give us a little space, guys,” I begged them. “I’ll be fine.”
I think they were planning to argue some more, but Finn put one hand on each guy’s shoulder and started pulling them out of the way. Keane tried to break his father’s hold, to no avail, and Ethan didn’t even bother to try. With an apologetic shrug, Kimber hurried after them.
Just in time, too, because Henry was practically on top of us. Everyone else had scattered at the sight of Henry’s fury. I didn’t know what he was so pissed off about, seeing as he was the one who’d led us into an ambush. An ambush I couldn’t help suspecting he had something to do with.
“What is the meaning of bringing the Wild Hunt here?” he spat, and I didn’t know if he was talking to me or my dad.
My dad decided Henry was talking to him and answered. “I didn’t bring them here. I’m sure they were just following, and Dana happened into them when her horse carried her away.” There was a sharp edge to those words, and I wondered if Dad suspected that someone had cast a compulsion spell on Phaedra, as the Erlking believed.
Henry chose to ignore the implications, instead curling his lip as he looked at me. “Interesting company you keep. Unseelie friends and the Wild Hunt at your beck and call. Perhaps my mother made a mistake by inviting you into our lands.”
Probably the smart thing to do would have been to keep my mouth shut and let my dad handle the obnoxious jerk of a prince. But keeping my mouth shut isn’t my way.
“At least I didn’t lead us into an ambush,” I countered. “And it was nice of you to make sure all your Knights were gathered around you while the rest of us were under attack.”
Beside me, Dad made a little choking sound. I couldn’t tell if it was smothered laughter or alarm. I did know that the prince was not amused. He glared at me as if he hated me more than anyone in the world.
“Perhaps we would not have been ambushed if you hadn’t insisted on bringing your Unseelie companions!” he snapped.
It was my turn to sputter with outrage. “You seriously mean to tell me you think Ethan and Kimber arranged for us to be attacked?”
The outrage lost a little of its steam when I remembered Ethan arranging for me to be attacked by a Spriggan, back when I’d first come to Avalon. Well, actually, it was Ethan’s dad who arranged the attack, but Ethan was in on it. He was supposed to save me from the Spriggan so he could be my hero and I would fall madly in love with him. Things had gone horribly wrong, because of course things always do when I’m around, but I’d long ago forgiven Ethan. And I was sure he had nothing to do with the Bogles.
Henry made a sour face. “They are no friends of the Seelie Court, and—”
“Really, Henry,” my father interrupted. “They live in Avalon, and their father preaches that citizens of Avalon should not align themselves with a Court. Look first to your own people before you accuse mine.”
“You dare!” Henry spat, as if he’d never heard anything so outrageous in his life. His cheeks were growing red with anger. My dad hadn’t been exaggerating when he said he was good at rousing Henry’s temper.
I noticed a couple of Henry’s Knights edging closer, watching my father and me with suspicious eyes, like they thought we were about to attack their prince. But my dad’s voice remained calm and level as Henry’s grew more shrill. If anyone was going to attack, it would be Henry.
“My daughter is supposed to be under your protection,” my dad said. “And yet an attempt was made on her life right under your nose. The Bogles did not venture so far into Seelie territory without some interference, nor would my daughter’s horse have run off with her like that. The obvious conclusion is that someone in your party arranged it.”
Henry clearly didn’t know how to quit when he was behind. “Perhaps it is you yourself who arranged the attack,” he said. His face was now almost purple with rage, and his voice had gone up about an octave. “As a way to discredit me!”
My dad gave that suggestion exactly the respect it deserved: he laughed.
The argument had drawn a fair amount of attention, and more than one of the observers snickered. I doubted even Henry believed what he was saying, but he clearly didn’t like being laughed at. There was a young, redheaded servant girl—I’d guess her age at somewhere around fourteen—standing respectfully to the side awaiting his attention. To my horror, Henry turned to her and slapped her so hard one of the Knights had to catch her to keep her from falling.
“How dare you laugh?” he shouted, though she hadn’t been one of the ones who’d snickered. Those people got the message, though, ducking their heads and slinking away.
“Tell me, Henry,” my dad said, “do you make a habit of bullying children, or do you only do it when your temper is piqued?” If he was particularly upset that Henry had just clobbered an innocent bystander because of his needling, you couldn’t tell it by looking at him. I, on the other hand, wanted to demonstrate some of the most deadly kicks and punches Keane had taught me, and I had no doubt that thought was clear on my face. I wouldn’t actually have done it—I swear, I’m not a moron—but my dad put a restraining hand on my shoulder just the same.
Belatedly, Henry seemed to realize he was making a total fool of himself. I could see him visibly battling his temper, trying to resist the urge to respond to my dad’s latest taunt. He managed it, but not by much.
“Your daughter may ride in one of the servants’ wagons,” he said, still spitting mad. “I have no spare horse to give her now that she’s lost her mount.”
I had no doubt being relegated to the servants’ wagon was meant to be an insult, but if it got me out of any more horseback riding, I was all for it. I didn’t much appreciate Henry’s implication that I was to blame for losing Phaedra, but I kept my mouth shut. I wondered if my dad was going to argue about me riding in a wagon, but he seemed satisfied that he’d come out on top and didn’t object.
Henry turned sharply away, stomping off. “Elizabeth!” he bellowed over his shoulder, and the poor redheaded girl went scurrying after him, her head held low.
“Shouldn’t we be turning around and heading back to Avalon?” I asked my dad as we both watched Henry’s indignant retreat. “I’m obviously not as safe here as you thought.”
He looked grim and unhappy. “Apparently not. But we can’t turn back. It would be an unpardonable insult to imply that Henry can’t protect you.”
“You’re kidding me, right? Because I’m pretty sure I’d be dead right now if it weren’t for the Erlking. Even if Henry’s people weren’t
behind it, they didn’t lift a finger to help me. I think it’s fair to say he can’t—or won’t—protect me.”
“Maybe so, but if we offer him an insult of that magnitude—no matter how well-deserved—he could use it as an excuse to revoke our safe passage.” Dad swept his gaze pointedly around the caravan, with its Knights and magic users. “We are not among friends, and without the protection of safe passage…”
I suppressed a groan of frustration, but I got the point. I had a good idea what Henry and his people would do if they were no longer under any obligation to play nice, and I did not want to find out firsthand I was right.
Chapter Eleven
When we were finally ready to depart again, one of Henry’s servants directed me to my assigned wagon. It was more comfortable than riding horseback, but not by much. The only seats were hard wooden benches. As if that weren’t uncomfortable enough, two of the baggage wagons had been beyond repair, and their cargo was stuffed under the benches so there was only one seat where you could actually put your feet on the floor. The servants put me in that seat, but I couldn’t help feeling guilty when I saw the rest of them contorting themselves to find a place to put their feet. The women, who had to deal with the ridiculous bustles right over their butts, had an especially hard time of it. I wondered if all the crap in those crates was strictly necessary, but I knew better than to think Henry might leave something behind for the comfort of mere servants.
I don’t know if it was a result of post-traumatic shock, or if Henry’s servants were so beaten down they’d lost all desire to be sociable, but try as I might, I couldn’t get anyone in that wagon to speak to me in more than monosyllables for the entire afternoon. They all rode with their heads bowed, not looking right or left, not talking to each other any more than they talked to me. I thought surely I could strike up a conversation with the redheaded girl, Elizabeth, since I guessed she was near my own age, but she was even quieter than the rest. Her eyes went wide with what looked like fear every time I tried to strike up a conversation. I felt so sorry for her I wanted to go over and give her a hug, but of course, I didn’t. I was sure she wouldn’t have appreciated it.
