by Dani Harper
“Gwenhidw.” Lurien didn’t like the way this was going. Power was being sucked away from him at an alarming rate. The Way was draining them all. “We have to—”
Without warning, a shaft of blinding white light erupted from within the tunnel. The energy struck Gwenhidw full on, not only knocking her out of Lurien’s reach but hurling her over the cliff’s edge like a falling star. Instinct was made for moments like these, when shock robbed the brain of all thought. Without hesitation, Lurien threw himself headlong after her, and they both tumbled to the restless ocean below.
“So begins the rule of Maelgwn, King of Tir Hardd!” The prince rode his stallion into the midst of the scrying pool, trampling the vision of the falling queen and causing it to disappear from view entirely. His hand-chosen followers, three-score strong and every one of them a blooded noble of the Tylwyth Teg, cheered him heartily.
“A cheer as well for our good friends, the keepers of the Way,” said Maelgwn, and forced his unwilling mount toward the towering creatures that seemed to draw all the surrounding light into them. The anghenfilod were pitiless and insatiable—and now absolutely essential to his plans. “Well done! Today, we have kicked the cacwn nest, angering the bees within. And hundreds upon hundreds of vengeful fae will come pouring through the Great Way, just as I promised you. If you lie in wait within, I will close the Way behind you as I promised, and they will be unable to escape you.”
And all of Tir Hardd will truly be mine, he thought. Above and below, and no one to oppose him, human or fae. As for the loathsome Anghenfilod? They would be the old kingdom’s problem. Thanks to the ancient Draigddynion spell in his possession, written on leather parchment stained with the former owner’s dark blood, Maelgwn had the means to permanently seal the Great Way from this side. As for the power to enact the complex spell, he was already energized by the glowing stones in his breastplate. He’d need to draw on his followers’ magic as well, but it might not be enough. Once the little mortal fiddler was back in his hands, however, his success would be ensured. And when the spell was complete, Tir Hardd would be unassailable by anyone from the Nine Realms.
The first wave of fae beings seeking revenge for their queen would find themselves trapped against a dead end and devoured by anghenfilod—and Maelgwn knew that would include the entire Wild Hunt and their twice-damned leader. After that, knowing that the Way was blocked at this end, no one would attempt to use it again, but they still wouldn’t be safe. The spell ensured the Way remained open to the great mountain, Mynedfa.
As soon as the Anghenfilod were hungry again, they would spill out the opposite end of the Way, and begin hunting in the Nine Realms.
It was simply perfect.
Power surged through Maelgwn as he basked in his ultimate triumph, and accompanying waves of pleasure radiated from his shaft. Despite the intense gratification, however, the stones in the breastplate felt as if they were intent on burning through his upper body. Still, he dared not take off the cuirass for even a moment’s respite. He must have as much magic at his command as possible at all times. And he could not risk anyone guessing the source of his power.
Rhedyn knew about it of course—the breastplate was too bothersome to hide when he took her, which was more and more frequently each day. And by necessity, she had become his personal servant as well. But what did that matter? He certainly wasn’t concerned about her telling anyone anything. He kept her well under control.
Some of the smugness left his face when he glanced at her, however. Rhedyn’s face was drawn into something like horror. “You do not share my triumph, my dear lady?”
“You didn’t say you were going to hurt the queen,” she whispered, fisting her hands in the folds of her green riding dress, as if to keep them still.
Spurred into a blinding burst of speed, Maelgwn’s stallion slammed its shoulder into Rhedyn’s mount, causing it to rear and stagger backwards until it threw her to the ground. The prince then seized her horse by the reins beneath its chin and yanked it down on all fours once more.
“There can be only one ruler in Tir Hardd—one, do you understand?—and I intend it to be me. I have planned and worked for this for centuries. You have questioned my decisions for the last time.” He spun around in his saddle to look at all of his followers. My subjects. “You have all witnessed this woman interfere with the enjoyment of what is rightfully mine.”
Rhedyn rose shakily from where she had fallen, clutching her shoulder. Not one member of the assembly made the slightest move to assist her. Instead, they only watched with mild interest as Maelgwn uncoiled his light whip from his side. The dark anghenfilod watched too, with greedy anticipation in their soulless eyes.
A frantic baying suddenly filled the air, and a huge canine shape materialized nearby.
News at last. Rhedyn could be—would be—punished later. At Maelgwn’s signal, the great black dog lowered itself until its belly scraped the ground and crawled toward him. “Tell me you have discovered my little lost grim,” he commanded.
The animal dipped its head once, then twice for good measure, no doubt anxious that its message be clear.
Found! The hidden stones in the breastplate beneath his tunic seemed to heat of their own accord, as if they too were pleased. “Show me at once,” he ordered, and the dog bounded away. Maelgwn’s silver spurs drew blood from his horse’s flanks as he rode hard in pursuit. The entire hunt wheeled and followed him, with all the grims howling like hellhounds at their heels.
Rhedyn alone was left behind. Maelgwn hadn’t specifically given her to the anghenfilod, but they might think differently—if they thought at all. She had no idea where she was in the mortal realm, but she dared not stay here. Her fae mount, steady beast that it was, stood shaking but had not fled. Nor did it appear to be lame. Quickly she seized a fistful of its mane in her good hand and leapt to its back.
The horse didn’t need to be told to run for its life.
TWENTY-TWO
Morgan had left the barn on the pretext of checking on the goats again, but Caris knew the tall veterinarian was discouraged over her failure to persuade Liam to accept their story. It’s not your fault, thought Caris. You can’t make someone believe in something. Knowing that didn’t make it any better for any of them, though, and she felt wholly at a loss. Should they try again? Would Liam even allow them to try again? He’d been so angry . . . but that was water off a duck’s back to her. Her own da had been a gruff man more often than not, cussing at every frustration, and he was all the more so after a long night at the pub. Yet she’d known that her father meant nothing by it. She’d certainly never worried that he would send her away.
But what would Liam Cole do?
The man might rail at them all, order them off his farm, perhaps even banish them from his circle of friends. But Jay and Morgan had mates to go home to. Family. Other friends. Work to do and lives to lead. Caris knew she would be welcome to accompany them—and Morgan had already offered her gainful employment—but her heart could hardly bear the thought. Yet what choice would she have if Liam couldn’t find it within himself to accept their story? Even if he wanted to continue their relationship, she couldn’t do it. She simply couldn’t.
Because you needed the person you loved to believe you. And there it was. She’d admitted it. She’d tried to be sensible and careful, conceded that she had feelings, agreed to give him a chance and all that. Duw annwyl, I love him.
Now, simply by telling the truth, she had surely lost the man’s trust, and with it, all hope of love was dashed. Nor would she settle for less. It seemed foolish, even outrageous, to dare to want something as incredibly wonderful as love, when she’d already received the gift of being human again. But humans have hearts! As a rule, the Tylwyth Teg looked down their noses at mortals, usually with distaste and loathing for such inferior creatures. After spending time in the Nine Realms, however, Caris knew better. Most of the Fair Ones envied
men and women their emotions, but particularly love in all its forms.
He touched my cheek . . . He kissed my fingers . . . He kissed my face. Most of all, he’d uncovered his secrets, revealed his past disappointments and pains to her.
Realistically, their relationship was barely more than the light of a firefly, blinking fitfully in the darkness. But she knew, as much as she had ever known anything, that their feelings could grow into a great blaze, bigger than the biggest midsummer bonfires she’d witnessed as a child.
Big enough, perhaps, to consume her.
The foals were well fed and dozing. Might as well walk back to the house and make up some semblance of a meal. Jay and Morgan hadn’t bothered to eat yet, she knew, and she’d had very little herself—though she’d never felt less like eating in her life. As for Liam? If she was lucky, he’d already be sound asleep on the couch again, and if fortune was truly kind, he might even be stretched out in the back guest room.
Out of sight . . . but he’ll never be out of mind. Caris sighed.
As she crossed the farmyard in the dusk and headed for the house, she caught sight of many glowing colors through the shadows of the broken trees. She couldn’t see clearly at first and quickened her pace to get closer. Were those tents? Whatever was going on? No Gypsy encampment had ever been so dazzling. Drawing closer, she saw the many—what? Dolls? No, they’re garden statues, silly. The whimsical figures were called gnomes, and they surely represented how humans viewed the faery world. As precious and sweet as children’s toys, and purely imaginary . . .
Small wonder that Liam didn’t believe us.
She regarded the red-capped one closest to her. Out of all the fae creatures she knew, Caris supposed the bearded gnomes best resembled the Coblynau. Most of them did, from the ones that were barely a hand high to some that stood as tall as her waist. But why had Ranyon—because it could only have been the ellyll—gone to the trouble to do all this? It was one thing to restore the gnomes, but the festive setting looked like a giant tea party. In fact, she remembered playing much the same way with her cloth-peg dolls and a pair of uncooperative kittens when she was small. She’d never seen such an abundance of food in her entire life, however, and the savory aromas made her stomach growl. Whatever is Ranyon up to?
The ellyll’s excited voice burst from one of the tents closest to the house. As she made her way there through the bright gathering, Jay could be heard as well. It sounded like they were arguing . . .
And then a third voice made her heart jump.
Caris hurried as fast as was possible, dodging tables and figures and tent poles, until she reached a great blue canopy—and stopped completely still, unprepared for the sight of Ranyon, Jay, and Liam, lounging on an enormous leather couch. Great mugs of ale were in their hands, heaping plates of food in their laps, and they were far too busy exclaiming over something on the television to notice her presence behind them.
“Did ya see that?” Ranyon was sloshing ale as he pointed at the screen with his mug. “That batter’s havin’ a real power surge today. ’Bout time too!”
“Naw, it’s the prevailing winds,” said Liam, and took a hearty bite from a cold meat sandwich that was as thick as a brick. “Come on, just look at the direction the flags are flying. That ball got a ride.”
“Are ya daft?” The ellyll punched Liam’s arm. “My man’s a solid contact hitter. That ball didn’t need a bit o’ help to clean off the bases.”
“I haven’t heard any commentary yet,” added Jay. “You’d think the announcers would say something about the wind if it were a possible factor.”
“You just watch the next batter,” said Liam, with his mouth full of sandwich.
“Aye, well it’s yer team up next,” said Ranyon. “They won’t be batting near as far as mine.”
Liam shook his head. “I don’t have a team. I told you: I’m a neutral observer.”
“If ya don’t have a team, then why can’t ya be rootin’ fer Toronto?”
Dear heavens, he’s made a believer out of Liam! Relief sagged Caris’s knees, and she sat down hard on a vacant stump between two enormous smiling gnomes made of concrete. She truly didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Ranyon had managed to work another miracle—only this was far greater than anything he’d done with the house, or even with the strange party around her.
The ellyll turned around and winked at her, as though he’d heard every word in her head. “There ya be, good lady.”
Jay waved without looking, intent on something happening on the television, but she was shocked when Liam practically jumped off the couch and came to stand in front of her.
Instinctively she put out her hands to steady him—but it wasn’t necessary. Not only did he not keel over; he looked as steady as a rock. His color was good, and she peered at his forehead in utter disbelief: the vivid purple bruising that had marred nearly half of it was completely gone!
Shocked, Caris looked around at Ranyon. He had a knowing expression on his face and waggled the mug he had in his spindly hand so that some of the foam sloshed over the side . . . and it glittered strangely as if shot through with pure gold.
“You gave him coblyn ale?” she mouthed at him, but the ellyll just smiled and shrugged as if he were perfectly innocent of any such thing. Liam still had his tankard in his hand, and she snatched it from him.
“Hey! That’s my first one!” he protested, but she ignored him and eyed the contents. He’d polished off two-thirds of it, but there at the bottom was one of Ranyon’s signature charms. Caris guessed it had healing properties, and she was glad for that. But the coblyn ale itself was a concern. When her da had a few too many pints at the pub, he’d eventually become drowsy and collapse to sleep it off (hopefully making it home first). Coblyn ale had a like effect on the fae. Fermented by the Coblynau deep in their mountain home, the powerful brew quickly produced drunkenness, and eventually stupor, even in the Tylwyth Teg. But a human? Their minds remained clear, their thoughts unmuddled, while their bodies were infused with energy. Liam Cole was probably feeling better than he’d had in years.
Like all things fae, however, there was a downside. The more ale, the more energy. Too much and it was possible for a mortal body to wear itself out in frenetic activity. She’d witnessed captive humans literally dancing themselves to death in the midst of the glittering Court, and the memory made her heartsick. Caris fished out the talisman and dumped the ale on the ground. “You’ve had enough for today,” she said to Liam, tucking the little charm into his shirt pocket.
He looked like he was about to protest further when Ranyon interrupted. “Aye, she’s probably right about that,” said the ellyll. “Don’t want to overdo with that head o’ yers. At best you’ll be fair snobbled or, worse, you’ll be tossin’ yer cookies again.” He winked at Caris and turned his attention to Jay, who was still focused on the screen. “I’ll just be having a quick look ’round for Morgan. I’m sure she could do with a bite to eat,” he announced much more loudly than he needed to, and seized his friend by the arm. “And I’m going to need a bit o’ help finding the poor, famished dear.”
“What? Oh, oh right. Sure.” Jay jumped up and the two disappeared in record time, leaving Caris alone with Liam. He had both her hands in his before she realized it.
“Hell, it seems like all I do is apologize to you,” he murmured. “This is twice in one day I have to say I’m sorry for being such a moron.”
Moron? She looked at him oddly, then laughed. “Sorry. Once upon a time in Wales, I’d have thought you were talking about carrots. But I think it means something quite a bit different now.”
“Lemme spell it out for you. It means idiot. Dork. Complete and total ass. Oh, and probably that word you came up with too: dihiryn. Did I say that right? Anyway, take your pick, I’m guilty as charged.”
“I don’t think you deserve any of those names, and especially not dihiryn.
” She stood on her tiptoes and whispered in his ear. “That’s a brutal cad, you know. A bounder. A truly nasty and despicable villain, like Maelgwn.”
“Okay, okay, maybe I’m not quite that bad.” He touched his forehead gently to hers, and she was mesmerized by the intensity of his gaze. “But I didn’t believe you when you told me the truth, and I did that to you more than once too. I’m guessing it probably hurt like hell. I’d do anything rather than bring you pain, you know, but somehow I seem to keep doing it—that whole misunderstanding about music for instance. I could have lost you forever before I’d even gotten a chance to know you.
“Before I got the chance to tell you I love you.”
She couldn’t think of a single thing to say, but her arms slid around his neck of their own volition. Caris had never had a lover in her life. She knew nothing about kissing save for that quick and awkward sampling when she was ten, and if she’d stopped to think about her lack of experience, she might have let this moment slip by. But she didn’t stop, and she didn’t think . . . Her lips tingled as they met Liam’s—and they didn’t even bump noses. His response, gentle but certain, left her breathless.
And wanting more.
The sunset had given way to full dark, and the many vividly colored canopies glowed like giant lanterns with hundreds of bright candles. The innumerable gnomes stood motionless beneath them, surrounded by all the trappings of a terrific party—although Liam cast them a suspicious glance from time to time in case any of them moved. Soon, however, he forgot all about them, and about everything else in the world.
There was only Caris.
The flavor of her soft full mouth was everything Liam remembered from their very first encounter, when he’d been convinced she was a dream for the taking. This time, however, it was all the sweeter for its willingness, and he drank from it for a long time.
“Stay with me. Be with me,” he said at last. “I don’t understand where you came from or why it was me that found you. I’m just grateful that you’re here.” His words were interspersed with the gentlest of kisses, giving and asking at the same time. “I’m sure you’ve noticed that I can be an insensitive jerk at times, but I hope you also know that I need you and I care about you. Just give me a chance to show you.”
