Chapter Forty-Four
On her own? Tiki didn’t even want to think of that possibility. She looked for unusual trees, or standing stones that might be remarkable, but aside from a few hedgerows in the distance, the sunny meadow was non-descript. The mound before her could have been any mound, in any meadow, in the country outside of London or in the Otherworld.
“Follow me.” Larkin ducked low to enter the narrow passage and Rieker followed her. Tiki glanced doubtfully at the small hill. Surely, they weren’t going to hide in this dirt mound?
Rieker reached back for Tiki’s hand. “Stay close to me.”
The tunnel was dark and sloped steeply downhill. Tiki struggled to draw a deep breath as darkness closed around her like hands pressing the air from her lungs. As they moved further into the tunnel, small torches, embedded along the dirt walls, lit the way. The flames wavered and flickered as they passed, dancing as though alive. The passage smelled of freshly dug dirt, yet the walls were hard-packed as if they’d existed for centuries.
They went down and down and down.
Ahead of her, Rieker finally stopped. Tiki peered around his shoulders. Larkin was talking to two men who appeared to be guards. They gripped razor sharp spears and stood before a weathered plank door. Larkin murmured something to the men, then pointed toward Tiki and Rieker.
One of the guards eyed them, his gaze lingering on Tiki, before he motioned to the other to open the door and allow them to pass through. Against her will, Tiki’s gaze was drawn to his face as she neared. To her surprise, he dropped his eyes and inclined his head in a small bow.
Unsettled, Tiki hurried past, staying close to Rieker. They traveled down a hallway then stopped again. Tiki stared down a short flight of stairs that encircled the spectacular hall below her. The ceiling stretched high and candles in great wooden wheels cast a bright light over the room. Men and women ate at long wooden tables. A loud buzz of conversation echoed off the walls as the group ate and talked. Pairs of armed guards stood at attention around the perimeter of the room.
Larkin stepped to the head of the stairs, her head held high. As a few noticed her presence they nudged each other and nodded toward her. One by one, everyone in the room quieted to hear the news.
Larkin raised her hands. “My Macanna brethren. We have fought long and hard against a formidable foe. Tonight, there is light cast here among the darkness.” She paused for three heart-beats. “I return with Finn MacLochlan’s daughter.” Whispers rippled through the crowd like the wind through the rushes. “A true high queen of the Seelie Court is among us again at last. Together we will ensure her destiny.” Larkin swept her hands toward Tiki. “May I present Tara Kathleen Dunbar MacLochlan.”
There was a split-second of absolute silence as every pair of eyes focused curiously on Tiki. Her cheeks grew warm and her head suddenly felt light. She tightened her fingers on Rieker’s as if she could draw strength from them. It was just like Larkin not to warn her that she intended to present her like this.
“She don’ look like Finn,” someone yelled from the back of the room.
“She’s just a girl,” somebody else yelled.
A deep voice came from the left. “Where’s she been all this time?”
One woman sat close enough that Tiki could see the way her eyes raked her up and down. “How do you know we can trust her?”
“SILENCE!” Larkin swung her arm through the air and snapped her fist closed. In that instant the room became silent as though she’d cast a magical enchantment. “I know you have questions. I know you want proof.” She looked from one face to another, almost daring anyone to question her. “You shall have it. And then, together, we will dispose of Donegal once and for all.”
Tiki stared at the toes of her boots, trying not to make eye contact with anyone in the room. She understood why they were questioning her. It was the same question she was asking herself. What if Larkin was wrong again?
For a second the room remained quiet, then conversation burst out across the hall, though no one yelled any more questions in Larkin’s direction.
“Come along.” Larkin walked down the steps to lead them through the hall. The stares pressed on Tiki as she followed Larkin across the room. After having lived the last few years of her life hiding from attention it was unsettling to be the focus of such intense scrutiny.
Larkin spoke to no one but led them to a private table, set off by itself, at the far end of the hall, already laden with plates of food. She pulled out a chair, its wooden legs scrapping against the floor, and sat down.
“Eat while you can. We’ll be on the move tomorrow as there’s only two days before Beltane.”
As she ate, Tiki felt the eyes of the Macanna on her. She kept her gaze focused on her plate. Of course they were curious. She would be too if she were in their position. But if they came to believe she was Finn’s daughter, what would these people expect from her? How could she lead them?
“How are you keeping apprised of what’s happening?” Rieker asked Larkin. He dug into the food without a second thought.
“We have spies within Donegal’s ranks,” Larkin said. “Spies pretending to be UnSeelie’s in the Palace of Mirrors as we speak. Dain, for one.” Larkin barely skipped a beat. “Though, I believe you’ve known him as Sean.”
Tiki’s fork clattered against the plate.
“What?” Rieker’s face darkened as the faerie’s words sunk in.
Larkin raised her eyebrows at him. “Surely you don’t expect him to spy in the UnSeelie world without the benefit of a glamour? No one in their right mind would ever believe Dain is UnSeelie.”
Against her will, a twinge went through Tiki at the thought of beautiful, blond Dain being undercover in Donegal’s court at a time like this. An image of his gruff exterior as Sean filled her head.
“Who is he, Larkin?” Rieker clenched his fork. “We’re risking our lives for you and your people. The least you can do is tell me who—”
“He’s your brother.” There was no emotion in Larkin’s response. She shoved another bite of food in her mouth and swallowed a great gulp of wine as though she had nothing more important on her mind than to fill her stomach.
Rieker froze.
Tiki cringed at the faerie’s choice of words. She knew what an emotional impact the word ‘brother’ had for Rieker, especially after his two younger brothers had been murdered.
Rieker struggled to keep his expression neutral. “Surely you must mean a distant relation? Someone who also carries the blood-line of Eridanus?” He crossed his arms, his face now guarded and unreadable. “I’m sure there are many, but certainly not a brother.”
Larkin checked the neighboring tables to see if anyone was listening to their conversation but all the other tables were on the other side of the room. Convinced that no one was paying any undue attention to what was being said she spoke softly.
“Your father spent time in the Otherworld before he married.” She lifted her shoulders in a careless shrug, as if sharing the day’s news. “He was descended from Eridanus and knew of his own connection to the fey—diluted though it might have been. When he was presented with the opportunity to visit our world, he took it.”
Rieker sat back in his chair with a thump.
Anger burst in Tiki’s chest like a match to a flame. How dare Larkin manipulate Rieker like this—in the most painful way possible. Tiki set her fork down, trying not to reveal her shaking fingers. She’d suspected there might be a connection between Rieker and Dain, but brothers? Surely Larkin was mistaken.
“Are there others?” Rieker tone was even.
“No. He’s the only one.” Larkin replied. She raised an eyebrow at him. “Your father was only here for a short time.”
The muscles in Rieker’s jaw flexed. “Who might Dain’s mother be?”
Larkin hesitated before she let out a small sigh. “Her name was Breanna.”
“Was?”
Larkin chewed her food without speaking. Tiki got
the impression she was debating how much information to reveal. Finally, the beautiful faerie nodded. “Perhaps it’s best if you know. The time feels right.”
“Know what?” Rieker ground out.
“Breanna died in childbirth. Your father was grief stricken, for he was very much in love with her.” Larkin ignored Rieker’s sharp intake of breath. “He chose to return to London. Apparently, it was there he thought he could best carry on.”
The façade of calm that Rieker had maintained up until now cracked and Tiki could see the anguish in his eyes. “He abandoned his own child? He left Dain behind? My father wouldn’t do such—”
“Actually—” Larkin cut him off with an upheld finger to motion for him to wait as she took a drink of the blue wine that filled her glass. Tiki wanted to reach across the table and shake her. The faerie enjoyed her moments of power too much. Larkin set the goblet down. “As you know, it’s rare for faeries to give birth. Twins are virtually unheard of in the Otherworld.”
Larkin leaned back and contemplated Rieker through half-slitted eyes. “I suspect it was due to the influence of mortal blood.” It was as if an explosion had suddenly rocked their table and Larkin’s words rained down on their heads like stones.
“What?” Rieker gripped the edge of the table.
“In any event,” Larkin continued with an airy wave of her hand, “Eridanus would only let your father return to London if he left one of you behind. Insurance, I suspect.” There was a smug smile of satisfaction on the faerie’s lips. “Your father chose to take you.”
Tiki clutched at Rieker’ arm. “Larkin, are you saying that Dain and Rieker are twins?”
Larkin took another bite of food, chewing thoughtfully. “Fraternal, of course. It does seem obvious though, doesn’t it?” She smiled. “Now that you know the truth.” She raised her wineglass to Rieker. “Here’s to newfound family. Bit more faerie in your blood than you thought, eh?” With a grin, she took a deep swig and drained the contents of her glass.
Anguish was etched across Rieker’s handsome face, as if someone had drawn lines of pain across his skin.
Tiki’s mind rushed in dizzying circles. If what Larkin said was true, then Rieker had much more than a thread of faerie blood in him. This confirmed why he could disappear in London on a whim; why he was chosen to guard the ring of the truce. Perhaps even why she had such a strong attraction to him. “Why did Eridanus decide to split them up?”
Larkin waved her fork toward Rieker. “Isn’t it obvious? William doesn’t look as much like a faerie. Apparently took after his father’s side. Dain, on the other hand—” she paused to drink from her glass again— “would have more trouble explaining his pointed ears and other features to some of those aristocratic types in London. But Eridanus was extremely clever. I suspect he believed having a child in both worlds would ensure your father’s loyalty as well as a necessary commitment to secrecy.” She cocked her head at them.
“Perhaps he even thought you might be a liaison for the future?”
Rieker leaned toward Larkin, the intensity of his emotions like a wave rolling across the table. “But if Breanna died, what became of Dain? Who raised him?” Though his face was pale, his words were steady.
Larkin motioned to a servant to bring more wine. “Dain was raised by a faerie named Kieran. He loved that boy like he was his own child.” She shuddered. “Unnatural, if you ask me.”
Rieker choked. “Kieran?”
Tiki had to bite her lip not to gasp out loud. The faerie who Rieker had cared for during his dying days had raised his brother?
The servant refilled Larkin’s glass. “Leave the bottle,” she said. “I suspect we’re going to need it.” With a short bow, the servant set the twisted wine bottle on the table and departed. She held up the green glass. “Can I fill your cup, William? You look like you need a nip.”
Rieker ignored Larkin’s offer. “Where is Kieran now?”
Tiki was amazed at how calm he sounded, though she recognized that guarded tone of voice. He was not going to let Larkin see how he really felt. He had mentioned to Tiki more than once that many of the things Kieran had told him had not made sense. That it was as if the old man had expected Rieker to know of things he didn’t. Now to find out that Kieran had raised Rieker’s twin brother— Larkin shrugged. “Kieran disappeared a few years ago while I was working within the UnSeelie court. I never did hear what became of him. I don’t think even Dain knows, but I assume he is dead, like so many others.” She nodded at Tiki. “Exactly the reason why she is needed here—to help put a stop to the killing.”
Tiki remembered what Rieker had told her. Kieran had been dying when he had met him. Believing him to be homeless, he had cared for the older man. It had been Kieran who had told Rieker there was a rumor of someone marked with an fáinne sí hidden in London.
Rieker’s voice sounded brittle and forced; more of a statement than a question. “He knew we were twins?”
“It wasn’t common knowledge,” Larkin said. “Eridanus told those who knew of your birth that you had died. But Kieran knew the truth of where you went. I always suspected he kept track of your father.” She leaned back, one arm draped over her chair, her wine goblet held loosely in her long fingers. “The fey have a terrible time curbing their curiosity.” The corner of her mouth quirked. “Perhaps he dreamed of reuniting the two of you. Wouldn’t he be pleased now?”
Below the table, Rieker’s hands were drawn into fists, his knuckles white. “Does Dain know?” His voice revealed none of his inner turmoil.
“I’m not sure exactly what Kieran told him, but no—” Larkin shook her head— “I don’t believe Dain knew he had a brother until recently.” She took a long drink of wine. “Then he couldn’t help himself—he went to London as Sean in search of you.”
“Does he know he’s half mortal?” Tiki asked, remembering how Dain had questioned her about her own heritage.
“I have no idea what he does and doesn’t know.” Larkin shoved her plate to the side. “Enough of Dain. We need to talk about our plan.”
“So Dain is in Donegal’s court right now?” Rieker pressed. “In danger?”
Larkin jerked forward, suddenly angry. “We are all in danger, William,” her voice was razor-sharp. “Dain is willing to risk his life for what he believes, as are all the Macanna.” Her lips pulled back from shiny teeth that were suddenly pointed, making her look feral. “Are you?”
Tiki dropped her eyes and stared at the table. She didn’t want to confront Larkin. But if what she had just told them was true, then Tiki knew she’d made the right decision to come. If it was in her power, she would not let anything happen to Rieker’s only living relative.
Chapter Forty-Five
Johnny!“Fiona shouted across the field as she ran, the hem of her dress clutched in one hand and held high above her knees so she wouldn’t trip. Overhead, storm clouds gathered on the horizon, black and threatening.
He turned from where he was perched on the fence, watching Toots ride the big brown bay in circles around the corral. Mr. Bosworth stood in the center of the gated area, holding the lead as he shouted instructions to Toots.
Johnny climbed down and hobbled to meet Fiona. Something in her tone made the skin crawl along the back of his neck just like when a bobby was paying too much attention to him.
“Fi, what’s wrong?”
“It’s Clara.” Fiona’s chest heaved, her voice coming out in choking gasps. “Have you seen her?”
“Clara? No.” He motioned toward Toots. “I’ve been out here with the horses. Why?”
“I can’t find her.” Fiona gasped for breath, seemingly unaware that she still clutched her skirts well above her knees.
“Could she be with Mrs. B.?”
Fiona shook her head. “Mrs. B. hasn’t seen her since breakfast.”
“What about Shamus?”
“Shamus is working in the barn on his furniture. She’s not there.” Fiona shoved past him and jerked herself u
p on the fence posts until her head was over the top rail.
“Toots!” Her cry pierced the afternoon air like the cry of a hawk. In the distance, thunder rumbled.
Toots jerked around in surprise.
“Where’s Clara?”
“How should I know, Fi?” Toots swiveled his head as the horse continued to prance around the circle. “Can’t you see I’m learning how to ride?” Mr. Bosworth slowed the horse to a walk and turned his weathered face in Fiona’s direction.
“You sound distressed, Miss.”
Johnny climbed the rails to look into Fiona’s face.
“Why are you so upset?”
“Toots.” Fiona’s voice held a wild note of hysteria. “She’s gone. Do you understand me? Gone. By herself.”
Toots’ eyes narrowed in a frown as the horse came to a stand-still, jerking his head to loosen the reins. “Gone where?”
“She’s gone to help Tiki.”
Toots gripped the saddle horn. “How do you know? How could she?”
“She told me she was going to go.” Fiona kicked a leg over the top rail so she could balance on the fence. “She said Larkin revealed her true name and told Clara if she ever needed her to call her and she’d come. But I didn’t believe her. I thought she was just missing Tiki.”
“But how could she get anywhere, Fi?” Johnny asked. He climbed a rung, balanced below where Fiona sat perched. “She’s just a little girl.”
Fiona bit the corner of her lip. “If she called for Larkin, she would come. She has to come. Larkin would take her.”
Next to her, propped on the fence, Johnny’s brows scrunched in confusion.
Sitting on the horse, Toots’ face blanched. “Are you sure?”
“Yes. I’ve looked everywhere.”
A frown creased Mr. Bosworth’s wrinkled forehead as he led the horse toward Fiona. “Does the missus know the little girl is gone?”
Fiona stared at Toots. “Larkin has to come when her name is called. All she had to do was grab Clara and leave again.”
“But why would Larkin take her?” Toots asked.
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