by Dani Harper
“Humans do not address the grand matriarch of the House of Oak,” pronounced another member of the retinue.
But Eirianwen held up a gold-tipped finger. “Perhaps the grand matriarch wishes to experience the novelty of conversing with a mortal. If indeed they even are capable of intelligent speech,” she said. “Leave us, all of you.” The eight vanished at once, and she turned to regard Lissy with a perfectly arched eyebrow that was a match for Trahern’s own.
Damn. I liked it better when I couldn’t see him in you.
“There is nothing I need or want from a human. Yet my son seems to have more than a passing interest in you, so we will test how much. Trahern enjoys the protection of the Hunt at present, but perhaps he can be persuaded to leave it of his own volition.”
Omigod, I’m bait. Lissy’s insides constricted, and it was once again hard to breathe, but she kept her face carefully blank. “I don’t think I’m that important to him.” If she wanted to survive, maybe she should have made herself sound a lot more valuable . . . but no way did she want Trahern within a thousand miles of this place.
“Not important when you hold the keys to his very life? I would know what vow he gave you.”
“He didn’t reveal it to me. He said nothing when he did it, and I wasn’t happy about being marked like a possession.” True enough. Best to act as if she were on trial—and in a very real way, she was—and answer questions as literally and simply as possible. If she were lucky, she could be just honest enough that any omissions would go undetected.
“What is the nature of your relationship?”
She gambled on being blunt. “Sex.”
The ruler was blunt in return. “That is, no doubt, what you are to my son. But what is my son to you?”
“Temporary pleasure. Fun. Enjoyment for what little time it will last.”
“Truly? You have no aspirations?” The matriarch sounded incredulous.
Lissy shrugged deliberately. “I knew from the beginning that a human has no future with a fae.” And why did it have to hurt so much to say that? “I’m a realist.”
“As am I. Whatever you might believe, the presence of the blood pledge on your hand signifies you are far more valuable to my son than simple gratification. Perhaps he has taken his brother’s path and chosen a pairing with a creature of lesser station.” Her perfect lips pursed in a little moue of distaste. “In this case, of lesser species.”
Lissy struggled not to react to the insult, to keep her voice even. “I don’t think so. I’m sure I’m more of a pastime. A hobby at best.”
“Indeed. Nevertheless, we will wait together, you and I, and we will see.”
Great. I get to spend quality time with a murderer. Guess I’d better keep up the conversation. With some extra respect, just in case . . . “Your eminence.” It was the only term of address she could come up with, something she’d heard in an old movie. Speaking with dignitaries and nobility wasn’t her forte. “May I please ask a question?” She braced herself to be struck again, but nothing happened. In fact, Eirianwen paused a moment as if considering.
“Speak freely, then. And I prefer not to be bored.”
No pressure there. “I thought it was an honor to ride with the Hunt. Why would you want your son to abandon it?”
“I require his service, of course. He is of use to me. That is what children are for, is it not? Their future utility?”
“Perhaps in the faery realm,” she said carefully. Even experiencing Trahern’s memories didn’t prepare her for how appalled she was by the ruler’s attitude. “It’s not the same in my world. Ideally, children are an outward sign of love, one that continues forever into the future.”
“Love is nothing. But a legacy is something else again. After I had been in power for a time, I thought to secure my own legacy with an heir, and I brought forth twain to make certain of it. The very existence of Trahern and Braith sent a clear message that we would lead the House of Oak for millennia to come, and those who coveted my position knew they had not one but three to contend with. As I grew in strength, however, my sons did as well. And I found I did not wish for them to eclipse me.”
“It’s not supposed to be a competition.”
Eirianwen’s laugh was derisive. “Of course it is. All of existence is a contest, otherwise what would be the point? My sons were talented. I knew Trahern was gifted in sorcery, but I ensured that no one of the House of Oak would teach him beyond the basics. Too much power and he might attempt to seize my position.”
“He didn’t even want it.” Careful, she told herself. Playthings aren’t supposed to know too much.
“So he may say, and perhaps he does not. Not yet. But as one grows in power, one naturally desires more. Is it not so in your world?”
Lissy couldn’t disagree with that. “What about Braith? Was he a sorcerer as well?”
“Braith was willful from the beginning, with little magic of his own. But he possessed a single gift that balanced the scale, one rare among the Tylwyth Teg. He could perceive what is to come.”
“You mean he could foretell the future? For real?” Trahern hadn’t mentioned that.
“Braith was a farseer, a strong one. And therefore exceedingly useful. He predicted much that I was able to turn to my benefit. But one day he dared to tell me that a child would bring about my downfall. That this mighty oak”—she waved her gold-tipped hand to encompass the tree that supported the vast hall—“which has been the symbol of our family for millennia, would be razed to the ground, and the entire House with it. What choice did I have after such a revelation but to take steps to protect both my sons?”
“But I—I heard that Trahern’s brother was turned into some kind of dog.”
Something in Eirianwen’s pretty laugh made the hair on the back of Lissy’s neck stand up. A shadow instantly appeared at the matriarch’s right hand and coalesced into an enormous black grim laden with silver chain-mail. He towered beside the thronelike chair like a stone lion. Had the creature been there all along? The ruler stood and lifted the dark canine’s chin with a single taloned finger, forcing it to look first at her, then at her captive. The dog made no sound and offered neither resistance nor affection.
“Permit me the pleasure of presenting to you my son and heir, Braith.”
THIRTY-ONE
The black dog automatically bowed to Lissy before returning to rigid attention. Astonishment left her wordless, but it didn’t stop her heart from being wrung by the animal’s dull, haunted eyes. Does Eirianwen think that’s really Braith, or is she testing me to see what I know? Whatever the game was, however, she needed to play along. And she’d say nothing about the great gray grim that had befriended her son.
Eirianwen left the golden branch of her office on the mighty chair and strolled elegantly along the length of the dais. “It cannot be said that I do not treasure my children,” she said. “But I could not permit either of them to fulfill Braith’s prediction. And thus, he remains well protected in the form you see before you. As a grim, he can do nothing but obey, yet he is alive and will remain so indefinitely. And though I did not plan it so, his fate protected his brother as well. Rather than share his twin’s destiny, Trahern went straightway to the Hunt and has remained safely with them ever since.”
“You talk of safety and protection. Protection from what?” Lissy suspected the answer but hoped like hell she was wrong.
“From me, of course.” The ruler’s tone affected patience, as if she thought mortals incredibly stupid. Or just this one in particular. “I would have had to kill them both, otherwise.”
Okay. I’d like to ring up the warden now and tell him my interview with the homicidal maniac is over. Lissy glanced over at the black dog just in time to see the creature shudder before resuming its rigid pose. You too, huh?
The matriarch of the House of Oak wandered casually to the wall of branches, which immediately parted to form a tall oval window that spilled sunlight into a great golden pool around her. She li
ngered there as if looking out upon an interesting scene, but Lissy wasn’t fooled. The pose was too artful, every movement designed to take fullest advantage of the light, to enhance her appearance to the max. How many years had the woman spent rehearsing such subtleties? Powerful people often have powerful egos. Lissy searched her mind for any way that knowledge could be used to help her escape, but short of somehow flattering Eirianwen into letting her go, she couldn’t think of a damn thing. Yet. For now, she’d do her best to keep the conversation going—and try not to think of every movie she’d ever seen where the villains explained themselves to the captives because the captives weren’t going to live long.
But Eirianwen spoke first. “What of your own offspring?”
The question was like a snake strike, unexpected, terrifying . . . and a poison that stopped Lissy’s heart. Omigod, Fox! Trahern had warned her from the very beginning, mincing no words: They will take him and use him, or they will kill him. And this woman had just talked about murdering her own children without a qualm.
“Mine?”
“You have a child, of course. My guards reported the presence of toys in your dwelling.”
She set aside her indignation at the idea of strangers searching her house—and just when the hell had they done that? Instead, she focused on the problem at hand. Maybe she couldn’t keep Fox’s existence a secret, but the most important thing in the whole damn universe was that his gifts remain hidden from the faery realm—and especially from this angelic-looking horror. “I only have one child, a very young boy.”
“Trahern’s seed?”
Now it made sense why the toys were important enough to be reported. The power-hungry matriarch was worried about future contenders for her position! “My child is one hundred percent human. His father, Matt Lovell, was killed before his son was born, and that was nearly ten years ago. As for Trahern, I only met him within the past couple of months.”
“Months. Years,” repeated Eirianwen. “Breaths. Heartbeats. A mortal is a mere blade of grass, while we are as mountains. You cannot even comprehend how long I have existed.”
Lissy turned slowly, suppressing a shiver and ordering herself to think about the volcanic stone that spanned the Hall, until she regained her composure. Blue, gold, green. Just the floor. Labradorite, feldspar, plagioclase, anorthite, refractive, calcium sodium aluminum silicate . . . “As a geologist in my world, I study the processes that create mountains.”
“Study upon this: the fae walked the earth long before men. As men became more plentiful and began to alter the world to suit themselves, we gradually withdrew to realms of our own making, our own design. We would have a world suited to us.”
“And what about your children? Do you try to make them suit you as well?” She didn’t mean for that to come out, but it was almost impossible not to react. I’ve got to be more careful, dammit!
Far from being offended, Eirianwen laughed. “Of course! What good would they be if we did not? But I sense that you do not approve. Answer me this, then: Of what real use is your child to you? His father is dead and left you no kingdom, no wealth, no legacy worth securing. Your life span is appallingly short, yet you spend your limited time seeing to your offspring’s needs. What does your son do but take from you, even the very food from your mouth?”
“My child, my son, takes nothing away from me,” said Lissy, her hands fisted at her sides as she fought to keep indignation and anger out of her voice. “I am not made less by his existence. Because of him, I am more than I would otherwise have been. He is not my competitor; he is my teacher. I learn from him every day. I see my child experience life and laugh and love and grow. Sometimes I cry, too, because growing sometimes hurts both of us. And sometimes I stand in absolute wonder at his insight and perspective. My life is enhanced by my son, and I am so goddamn lucky to have him.”
“A pretty speech, but naive. You speak to me of children, yet you are but a very young child yourself. And because you are mortal, you will never be more than that.”
“And you will never know what a good man your own son has become, and he’s done it despite all your attempts to twist him.”
“Good? A human failing, and hardly a compliment. I wanted my sons to be strong enough to rule.”
“And when they became so, you sought to use them or imprison them. Was there any possible way to please you?”
“Perhaps not,” she said unexpectedly. “So, mortal, you were afforded the rare privilege of visiting Tir Hardd. Tell me, how do you find the faery realm?”
The change of subject was abrupt but welcome. Lissy felt that she’d said far too much already, and it was a wonder she was still alive. “I have no words to describe how beautiful your world is, the wonders of it,” she said honestly. “This spectacular stone, for instance. I’ve never seen anything like it. And the workmanship—I can’t see a single seam. Where is the mine that produced it?”
“It is but a single stone, and certainly not mined.” Eirianwen had returned to her glorious chair, and the golden branch in her hand had become an elaborate fan of gilded oak leaves. “Are we coblynau, to scrabble in the dirt? We grew it ourselves, of course. What you stand upon is called carreg o ddraig—dragonstone. But a master sorcerer does not choose it for its pleasing appearance.” Eirianwen leaned forward in the massive chair, her smile suddenly wide and feral. “In combination with an ancient spell, it bestows a highly desirable power in the magic wielder that can be used upon lesser creatures, including mortals. The more dragonstone there is, the greater the power.”
Without warning, a flurry of small winged creatures swooped down from above and surrounded Lissy, buzzing, whirring, fluttering, flapping. She tried to cover her head and protect her eyes with one arm as birds jabbed at her with needle-sharp bills. White bats flashed pointed teeth. Shiny beetles the size of apples exposed enormous pincers. With her free arm, she swung at them all, trying to knock them out of the air.
The matriarch casually examined the filigree talon that sheathed one of her long, elegant fingers. “I need but a drop of your blood to fall upon the stone to complete the spell,” she continued. “And then I will be able to read your simple little mind. I am certain there must be something of interest in there, something you have not yet shared with me.”
Lissy connected with a beetle, sending it skittering to the floor. And noticed that the onslaught seemed to be lessening. Not only were the creatures keeping their distance from her, but not one had managed to touch her. She stopped moving and slowly, slowly lowered her arms to her sides. The whirling mass took no advantage of her vulnerability. They didn’t even move closer. Why was that?
Now that she wasn’t being attacked, a strange warmth just below her throat won her attention. Her fingertips identified the pendant that held the ash leaf. It had worked its way to the outside of her shirt, and she looked down to see that tiny sparks of green light leapt from it like indignant aphids.
“What is that? What do you have?” Eirianwen rose from her chair, and the creatures fled upward to the canopy of the ancient oak. She was silent for a long moment, her exquisite features a still porcelain mask, as she stared at Lissy. Understanding lit in her many-colored eyes. “A mortal with a blood pledge and the ash tree’s favor . . . how very unusual. You are indeed more than you appear, but no matter. While the ash may shield you from some things in this world, it cannot protect you from me. And I will have all your little secrets before I’m done with you.”
The golden fan in the ruler’s hands transformed to a bright dagger that leapt into the air and arrowed straight at Lissy. She threw herself to the floor to avoid the gleaming blade, but it slowed in midair and changed its trajectory. It feinted at her as she dodged and rolled, coming within a hairsbreadth, then tumbling away whenever she moved in order to reposition itself and strike at her again.
Eirianwen’s bright laughter rang throughout the vast room, and Lissy caught a glimpse of her lounging sideways in the great oaken chair, her head upon her arm
as the fingers of her other hand flicked and danced like a puppeteer pulling strings. Dammit, she’s playing with me! When the dagger drew back yet again, Lissy grabbed one of her own running shoes and threw it with the overhand pitcher’s technique her brother had taught her as a kid. And then ran like hellhounds were after her.
The shoe slammed into the knife, impaling itself on the shining blade and sending it clattering to the stone floor. The laughter stopped while Lissy was already at the farthest point from the dais with her back pressed against the rough branches that formed the wall. She didn’t need to be any closer to know that she had succeeded in infuriating the woman.
But there was nowhere else to run.
The golden dagger shook itself free like a dog shaking off water, then hovered in the air once more. Sunlight gleamed along the blade, calling up a sudden flash of colors from the iridescent floor. Lissy prepared to dodge yet again. It was completely hopeless as, sooner or later, exhaustion or error would allow Eirianwen to win. Yet she wouldn’t give up; she couldn’t let this murderous creature learn about Fox . . . and an idea born of desperation formed.
The knife hurtled toward her as if shot from a bow, and this time Lissy didn’t try to avoid it. Instead, she made a running leap to meet it—
And was thrown backward in a brilliant flash of light.
Cadell was true to his promise of speed.
The long, glittering span of the Great Way was a blur as they galloped through. And when they left it behind for the sheer cliffs of Angsley Island, Cadell paused long enough to veil his stallion form and extend his invisibility to his rider. Trahern accepted the concealment. The fewer who know we are in the old kingdom, the better, he thought. Eirianwen had eyes and ears everywhere, but even magic could not reveal a pwca who did not wish to be seen. They resumed their headlong pace into the faery realm—
And darkness. Though Wales was enjoying a rare sunny morning, night had already fallen in the faery realm under the deep violet shadow of a new moon. Swift and silent, they raced across both Alder and Rowan territories until at last they approached the seat of Eirianwen’s power. Cadell slackened his pace only when the great House itself loomed in the distance. Trahern studied the high, sprawling castle as thousands of pale-white starflowers floated up from the expansive gardens like ghosts escaping a graveyard. He had grown up here, knew every finger width of it, yet it seemed all at once unfamiliar, even sinister. Had it changed in his absence or had he?
