by Dani Harper
Listening intently, she heard nothing except far-off birdsong and her own heartbeat. Finally, she risked raising herself on her elbows. A rough serpentine shape filled her field of vision, and she was forced to sit up to take stock of her surroundings.
The shape belonged to a massive tree root, just one of hundreds that pierced the stone floor, rising upward and coming together to form a cleverly stepped platform. Glancing around to ensure she was alone, Lissy slowly got to her feet to peer over the edge. There, the fused roots had been highly polished to reveal rich honey-colored wood beneath, and they formed a stagelike surface large enough to accommodate dozens of people. At the back of the dais, the remainder of the rugged roots coalesced into a gigantic trunk as wide as a city bus. Her gaze followed it up and up and up, until she realized the entire wall and vast vaulted ceiling were formed of an airy network of interwoven branches. She turned around then, surveying the immensity of the Hall. Roughly the size of a football field—if football fields were round—its entire dome sprang from this single massive tree. I’m definitely in the faery realm. Not much of a surprise there.
In the high canopy, bright-furred creatures with big ears and long grasping tails glided from limb to limb, reaching for hovering clusters of jewel-toned butterflies. Here and there, shining white birds sang as they clung to the rough bark—until one took flight and revealed them to be not birds at all but bats. Glowing eyes stopped to peer at her as a parade of glassy lizards marched along a branch. She ignored all of them. As sunlight dappled like gold coins through the thick clusters of foliage high above, she held her breath, her periphery darkening to a narrow circle as she squinted to make out the shape of the leaves . . .
Oak. It’s a damn oak tree.
All sensation, all emotion, all thought, came to an abrupt stop. She sat unmoving on the cold stone floor below the dais, breathing shallowly, unable to process anything, until a glittering leaf spiraled down to land beside her hand. Its silent arrival was enough to jolt her into taking a deep breath. Then another as she regarded the fallen object. No leaf, this, no blessing bestowed by a friendly tree, but a single torn butterfly wing. And didn’t that just sum up her situation nicely?
If this was the House of Oak, odds were that she might not see Fox again.
The horrific thought galvanized Lissy into action. She began walking the lengthy perimeter, inspecting the living wall for any gap she might be able to fit through. There was no entrance that she could find—who builds a room without a damn door? And worse, there was some sort of barrier between the open branches. Light shone through unfiltered. Cool, fresh air flowed in and out freely, bearing the fragrance of outside flowers she could see plainly. But when she tried to stick her hand through, it met an invisible wall as solid as the stone beneath her feet. She tried them all anyway, every opening she could reach. Finally, she climbed the rough crisscrossing limbs as high as the physics of the dome-shaped room allowed to see if the barrier went all the way up. Sadly, it did. She repeated the climb in several places until her hands were scraped and filled with splinters, peering through the higher apertures to get a feel for what lay beyond. The great vaulted room that seemed so enormous to her was merely a small building high atop an immense castle—but not like any castle she’d ever seen in a book. Expanses of formal flower gardens, including multitiered crystal fountains and even a few full-size trees, stretched to cover the entirety of the vast roof, hemmed only by an ornately carved parapet of the same flashy stone as the floor below her. Elaborate watch walls jutted out from the parapet at regular intervals, furnished with stone tables and benches. It was like an extravagant and fanciful version of Brooke’s little rooftop sanctuary in the city—if Lissy were trapped in her greenhouse! There appeared to be no way down, however, no convenient doorway or staircase or even a rickety ladder or a rope. Even more disappointing was the dense forest beyond and below the castle. If she somehow managed to escape and reach the woods, would she be in worse danger from whatever lived there? I’ll take my chances.
She sat on the floor for a few moments to rest her aching arms. Studying the creatures in the canopy offered no useful insight, save that none of them appeared to fly, climb, or crawl outside the room. Great. Everyone’s a prisoner here. Lissy picked a few tiny pieces of bark from her stinging palms, then got down on her hands and knees to scrutinize the monstrous tree’s root system beneath the sprawling dais. The sun’s rays deepened to orange, then red, as she inspected every inch of it that she could reach. There seemed to be no open space beneath the platform at all. She watched wistfully as a few red salamanders scuttled through the dark columnlike roots that were much too close together to allow her entrance.
Twilight washed the immense room in shades of violet, and she sat in the very center of the floor. For some reason, it comforted her to have as much space around her as possible. Maybe it seemed less of a prison that way.
The gaps between the branches overhead soon revealed an ink-black sky pinned in place with strange stars. The white bats stopped singing and left their perches to hunt glowing insects. The colors fled the stone floor, its dark surface broken only by faint silvery shimmers as if fish swam beneath it. Like the memories that now swam through her mind, occasionally breaking the surface with their images. Not the life flashing before your eyes kind of thing but simply a random collection of defining moments and foolish ones, the serious and the silly. An emotional audit of sorts, in no particular order. She’d lost an awful lot for one person, beginning with the sudden passing of her dad when she was still a kid. Matt’s death when she was a grown woman had devastated her anew. Her unexpected pregnancy brought even more pivotal changes to her life. And with Fox’s diagnosis came another kind of loss—the parenting experience she’d expected to have. Still, somehow, she’d gotten up after every knockdown, and her heart had faithfully repaired itself after every grieving, even when she was certain it would never be mended again. Change happened, shit happened, but she adapted. She still believed in life. And love, she thought. I’ve experienced a lot of love. I have it now. I’ve got Fox, I have my family, and all my friends.
And Trahern. He’d collided with her life with all the unpredictability and sheer force of a meteor strike. Then insisted on becoming part of it and changed it forever. Because of him, Lissy had gotten another chance to choose to love and give it freely, without reserve. And with that thought came the only real regret she had. I should have trusted him enough to tell him how I felt and let the chips fall. It wasn’t right to keep a thing like that a secret. Or to decide for him how he felt.
Did Trahern know where she was? Or was he still in Tir Hardd somewhere and didn’t yet know she was missing? A little part of her hoped for a rescue because it didn’t look like she’d be able to get herself out of this one. Mostly she hoped like crazy that Trahern would stay as far away from this place as possible and keep an ocean between him and the family who had wrought such a cruel spell on his twin. Besides, Fox needed a teacher, right?
Her thoughts circled back to her son then. Her beautiful blond-haired boy with those serious blue eyes. Trahern would teach him magic, and Braith would guard him. Mama and Brooke and Aidan would raise him, and the new baby would be like a little brother for him. The rest of her friends would continue to be loving aunts and uncles. All of them together would help buffer him from the world that so often overwhelmed him. And all would help him find his balance. Fox’ll be okay if something happens to me. He’ll be okay.
But I’m damn well not giving up on trying to get back to him. I just have to figure out how. I just have to figure it out . . .
No spell was required to summon the pwca. Trahern had barely formed the thought before a column of flame and smoke burst up from the ground in front of him. When it died away, an enormous black hare with golden eyes looked up at him. And grinned with wickedly pointed teeth. “Your need must be great, Hunter.”
“I would call on your strength and speed, Cadell,” Trahern said. “But more than that,
I need your knowledge and your talent for a very dangerous trick.” Quickly, he explained.
“The Wild Hunt cannot aid you in this?”
“Nay. They are a law unto themselves in many things, but they may not stray beyond their ancient charge. Betrayers are their lawful prey, as well as trespassers from other realms. The defense of the queen, above all. They do not concern themselves with petty squabbles.” Were they to pursue all those who scratch and scheme for power, the entire Court would be ridden down in an instant.
Cadell was silent for a time, pacing and shaking his head in a manner more suited to a caged warth than a hare. Trahern was accustomed to patience, and when he didn’t feel patient, he knew how to mimic it perfectly—but this time, waiting was agonizing. Every heartbeat spent here was another moment Lissy was a captive of the House of Oak . . .
Finally, the pwca stilled and faced him. “Eirianwen is formidable, commanding magic few can oppose, plus the loyalty of your Oaken brethren. She is rightly feared for her ruthlessness, and many whispers claim that she has slain countless innocents.”
“The stories are all true, though she is clever enough that no trace is ever found that points back to her. I would hold you blameless for refusing the task,” said Trahern.
“Nay, I would not be left behind in such a venture. Think of all the things to be learned!” Once again, Cadell was the huge black stallion that Trahern had first met, nearly twice the size of Cyflym. Flames blew from flared nostrils, and an enormous front hoof struck sparks from the pavement. “You need a mount, do you not?”
He vaulted to the pwca’s broad back and knotted his hands in the long black mane. “You once said you sought to outrun the whirlwind. Show me now.”
THIRTY
This is the mortal?”
Lissy’s eyes flew open, and she glanced around wildly. The melodious voice seemed to come from everywhere at once, but there was no one in sight. Every lilting word possessed an alluring musical quality, and she found herself automatically yearning to hear more—until some warning instinct kicked in. It’s magic. Someone is using magic on me. The realization seemed to break the enchantment because when the voice continued, there was no crystal chime at all but a chilling undercurrent of broken glass and shards of bone rubbing together in a fast-running stream . . . “You are quite certain it is the one I seek?”
Hearing nothing more for a time, she stood stiffly. Every muscle protested as she straightened. Serves me right for falling asleep on a rock. Turning in a circle, she scanned the room carefully.
A faint shimmering—not unlike a heat wave rising from a summer pavement—drew her attention to the very center of the great dais. As Lissy turned to look at it, the exposed golden wood abruptly heaved and grew upward, as fluid as a fountain, shaping itself into a broad seat. Substantial arms developed and curled into wide knots and spirals, seamlessly blending into the high, curving back, reminding her of Celtic art. But the chair’s beauty was marred by deeply carved scenes of armies clashing, battles with horrific monsters and predatory beasts. Violence covered every inch of it—and moved sinuously as if alive. Blue blood ran amid haunting horrors. For intimidation, no doubt. It was certainly working on her.
And then the great chair was no longer empty.
A slender fae woman who didn’t look more than twenty in human years regarded Lissy from beneath long lashes tipped with gold. Exotic features seemed divinely sculpted from purest marble, the impossible beauty almost hypnotic in its perfection. Though she needed no improvement, her apparel was likewise mesmerizing. The pale claret skirt of her trumpet-shaped gown was richly embroidered with an entire golden forest, with countless wine-colored gemstones forming fruit on the finely wrought boughs that waved in a nonexistent breeze. Wine-colored animals ran and leapt and stalked among the trees as if alive. The animated design extended to the long train that spiraled as neatly about her gold-slippered feet as if arranged by invisible hands. Long filigree talons capped her delicate fingers as they grasped an oak branch with gilded leaves—surely symbols of her station. Eight men in wine-colored robes now stood in a half circle a few paces behind her. Guards, advisers, or simply enforcers, they were likewise a testament to her supreme position.
Eirianwen.
Lissy searched for some resemblance to Trahern in the woman’s face, without success. Her glistening white hair, wound high into an intricate headdress before falling to her waist like a waterfall, was as thick and lustrous as Trahern’s own. And as with him, it was impossible to discern the color of her irises. But similar attributes also belonged to the fae who surrounded her. Perhaps the coloring was typical of all Tylwyth Teg. Even Lissy’s disguise in the faery realm had featured the same.
But she certainly hadn’t possessed the imperious gaze that now appeared to examine her like a bug in a collection. Lissy stood quietly, tucking her annoyance into a mental drawer and locking it, saying nothing. Instead, she focused on returning the ruler’s stare without flinching. And as she did, as it had been with Trahern, she began to see more. And that’s where all similarity ended. Behind his eyes, she had discovered the man within. But behind this woman’s divine exterior? Something cold, calculating, and impossibly patient, as all ancient things must be. It was like locking eyes with a dragon.
And if she wasn’t very, very careful, she would be burned.
“There appears to be nothing of interest here at all,” said the matriarch, turning her head away as she motioned for one of her cadre to come forward.
The man knelt beside the great oaken chair, staring at Lissy with a smugly superior expression that surprised her. I thought you guys didn’t do emotions. Or do you only understand the crappy ones?
“I sought your son in Tir Hardd, as you commanded, Shining One,” he said to his ruler. “He had not been there of late, and none knew where he might have gone. Then a few tongues wagged—before I silenced them—that Trahern had suddenly appeared with another Hunter, a woman. Her presence would have been of no consequence had I not also learned that your son keeps no company outside the Wild Hunt. He has never been witnessed with a companion of any kind until this day.”
“This is no Hunter.”
“No, Most Fair One, it is not.” He paused until a faint movement of Eirianwen’s finger indicated he should continue. “I followed the pair to the Green Stag’s forest and witnessed for myself the woman’s true form, the one you see before you now.”
Anger and embarrassment washed over Lissy. She’d not only been human in that forest, she’d been naked—and definitely not sunbathing! Nevertheless, she kept her features as neutral as possible. Hadn’t Trahern once warned her to hide her feelings from the fae? That it would give her an advantage? She surely needed all the cards she could get right now. Think about Fox, she told herself. My job is to survive by any means possible so I can get back to Fox. She could handle a little humiliation. Whatever they say, whatever they do, I can’t afford to show anger or anything else. I can’t let them get under my skin.
Speaking of skin, she sure hoped she wasn’t blushing . . .
“I find it difficult to believe that the heir to the House of Oak would dally with such a drab little creature. It is even more difficult to believe you would bring it here to me and sully my hall.” Her voice softened then, yet was far more frightening than if she’d shouted. “Do you think my son such a fool that he would come all the way here to fetch a mere toy?”
“No, Shining One. But this one bears a mark.” He appeared to hesitate then, and his smug expression disappeared. “I—I believe it may be a blood pledge.”
Eirianwen’s gaze again rested on Lissy, though she hadn’t seen the ruler move. Certainly, no one else moved. Perhaps no one else breathed, either, because the very air seemed to have fled the room. The ruler of the House of Oak became as a statue, silent and unblinking, her taloned fingers gripping the arms of the massive chair. Time might move differently in the faery realm, but it was certainly dragging now . . .
“Mortal.
” The words were like a whiplash as Eirianwen addressed her directly. “Show me your hand.”
Her first impulse was to say no, of course. Lissy wasn’t in the habit of obeying commands, no matter who issued them. But neither protest nor resistance was in her best interests at the moment. She held out her hand, palm outward, knowing that the intricate blue design Trahern had placed there with his own blood was plain to see.
Among those who stood behind the ruler, there was a subtle ripple of discomfort, confusion, and even revulsion. Yeah, yeah, humans have cooties. I get it. As expected, the matriarch’s exquisite face was still a perfect mask, revealing nothing. Within her exotic eyes, however, Lissy saw not the rage or indignation she expected, but shrewdness. The ruler was thinking, considering . . . This was someone who played a long-term chess game and was accustomed to winning.
“How did a mortal maneuver my son into pledging his life?” Eirianwen said at last.
“What? No! I didn’t ask for this at all. He gave it to me. I didn’t even know what it was—I still don’t.”
The ruler shot a look at the man still kneeling beside her. “Explain.” She turned and confronted those behind her as well. “Any of you, explain how it is that one of the Fair Ones, an heir of the everlasting House of Oak, freely gifted the adduned gwaed to a dull human.”
“Perhaps the tedium of his existence in Tir Hardd played a role,” ventured the one closest to the ruler’s right.
Lissy fully expected him to be magicked right out of existence, and judging by a couple of faint but audible gasps, so did his fellow fae. Instead, Eirianwen laughed outright. “Then the sooner my son returns, the sooner he can recover from his boredom.”
“What do you want from me?” Lissy was going for unafraid but respectful. Still, a hard slap by an unseen hand nearly knocked her down.
