“I didn’t mean to frighten you.” His words seemed to be wrapped in warm caramel.
“I need answers. I came to help the fae and the elves talk to each other, and instead I find that the problem is something else entirely, and that there are dwarves here and even dragons. And you. The situation is a lot more complicated than I was led to believe. Please help by being part of the solution.”
Herne’s eyes twinkled. He seemed amused by her little speech.
Keelie examined the forest floor for Knot. He’d better not be off having an ale with Ermentrude when he was supposed to be her guardian. She glanced over her shoulder, and saw a curtain of leaves forming a barrier between them and the rest of the world. She realized how quiet it had become, hearing just the sound of her own breathing. “Where’s Knot?”
“He’s been detained.” Herne smiled wickedly. Keelie shivered. The plot to a horror movie popped into her mind: Shapeshifting deer stalks elf girl. She wasn’t sure what the King of the Dark Fae wanted with her, and she didn’t like feeling vulnerable in front of him. Now would be a good time to make a retreat, but … Keelie wanted to stay. She sniffed. No cinnamon.
“Do you smell something that offends you?” Herne arched an eyebrow, unsure of what she was doing.
Keelie blushed. “No, it’s just that whenever elves use magic—” Should she reveal this information to him? The fairies might not know about the elven charm.
“Ah! You were wondering if I have charmed you.”
Relieved, Keelie figured that by now, the fairies and elves up here knew a lot about each other. “I need you to come back with me. You must speak with Terciel and Ermentrude, and then we can go to Queen Vania once more.” She tried to sound like Finch, the Wildewood administrator who certainly knew how to be blunt-spoken. She wanted a straight answer.
“You get right to the point—I like that about you,” Herne said. He snapped his fingers, and a big red apple appeared in his hand. He brought it to his mouth with a flourish, then stopped and raised an eyebrow at Keelie. “Would you like one? I love a snack before making a big decision.”
Keelie didn’t know if he was aware of the symbolism of producing the apple. She wouldn’t take a bite. It hadn’t worked out for Snow White or Eve.
He bit into its glistening red peel with a loud crunch.
“Are you going to have a snack, or are you going to discuss what is going on? If not, I need to go.”
He grinned. “Patience is not one of your virtues.”
Keelie rolled her eyes.
“Mayhap a cup of tea to help you with your mood, and a more substantial offering.”
Herne clicked his fingers, and two mushroom-shaped chairs with big poofy cushions appeared, along with a table laden with delicious cakes and a hot teapot filled with fragrant tea.
“I don’t have time for a tea party, and I’m not in a bad mood.”
Herne sat down on one of the chairs. He waved a hand over the table. “I have always found it easier to negotiate business terms over a meal. It keeps everyone at ease. In fact, this is my own blend. I grow it myself.”
“I was warned not to eat fairy food.” Keelie sat on the edge of the chair, but as it started to tip, she moved back and found herself trapped in its comfortable depths.
“You’re part fairy, so eating fae food won’t hurt you. Anyway this tea will help you see things more clearly.” Herne poured her a cup.
“Conversation can do that, too.” Keelie took the cup, bone-white china painted with acorns.
Herne chuckled. “Then let’s talk.”
Keelie took a sip of the tea. “Are you going to help me?”
Herne snorted as he served himself. It wasn’t a reassuring sound. “All in good time.” He settled himself more comfortably in his chair.
“Sean and the elves will miss me if I’m gone too long. They know I’ve come to see you.”
“I think your young Sean won’t know you’re missing for a while.” Herne reached into his cloak and produced a gold pocket watch, the kind that railroad engineers wore during the Wild West days. Keelie had seen a similar watch recently.
“Did you get that from the Timekeeper?”
Herne shook his head. “I got it from a friend. Sometimes it doesn’t work the way I intend.”
“My day in the High Court lasted a month. Meanwhile, the rift widens. Herne, I can’t afford to stay here more than the few minutes that normal time allows.”
“I’ll do my best.”
“Why couldn’t we meet back in Grey Mantle, or in the forest where we first met?”
“Because the rogue goblins are at large. We must go to Under-the-Hill.”
“We’re not in Under-the-Hill now?” Keelie looked around at the now-summery scenery. Maybe this Under-the-Hill was different from the one back home.
“No, this is an alternate reality I’ve created that will last only as long as I need it. We must speak privately.” Herne leaned forward to gauge her reaction.
She sniffed the tea before taking another sip. The scent of jasmine and apples was indeed soothing. She glanced at Herne, who was watching her over the rim of his cup. So maybe he grew his own apples and tea plants, or perhaps these were imaginary refreshments, part of his alternate reality. Keelie hoped he’d grown them, since he was more connected to the Earth than court fae like Fala and Salaca. People who worked with plants were mellow. She knew dealing with trees had given her a different perspective on the world.
Herne stared down into his teacup. “What has the dragon told you? She hears everything.” His voice was very serious, and his gaze held hers.
Keelie swallowed. “She only said I needed to talk to you, and that all magical beings need to work together to heal the rift. I tried to do it alone with Queen Vania, and failed.”
He nodded. “I respect Ermentrude. She gives good counsel.”
“So you’ll work with Vania?”
“That’s another matter.” Herne frowned. “The High Court has always held itself apart. And the queen’s sister, Linsa, died not long ago. The queen mourns, and blames me for her sister’s death.”
Keelie stared at Herne. She wanted to go huh?
“She was found slain next to the rift,” Herne said. “Vania thinks that I talked Princess Linsa into trying to overthrow her, and then murdered Linsa when she would not go through with the plan. But believe me, that is not true. I think that Linsa was trying to prove herself worthy to her sister, who never showed her love, and was killed by one of Vania’s slavish minions. Vania killed Linsa, even if she did not do the actual deed.”
Keelie listened, shocked. The fairy queen had shown no sign of sorrow, and there hadn’t been much mourning going on at the party. “Why would she blame you?”
“Because Linsa and I loved each other, and Vania didn’t approve of our relationship.”
Keelie had to remind herself that this being was not a man. That he ruled over the underworld, the dark fae. Even so, stray threads of compassion escaped. “I’m sorry.”
Herne shrugged. “Have you ever heard of dragon magic?”
“I never even thought dragons were real until Ermentrude crashed the party last night. Er, last month.”
“You’ve probably noticed that dragons are enigmatic creatures. Perhaps I can help you understand them better.” Herne plucked a book from the air and handed it to her.
Keelie took the heavy book, but she couldn’t read the rune-like symbols of the title. Its cover sparkled like Ermentrude’s scales, and its thick, deckled pages were age-spotted, and written in the same strange script. “I already have to read the Elven Compendium of Household Charms. I feel like the homework fairy has cursed me.”
“I don’t know him.” Herne pointed to her cup. “You need to finish your tea before it gets cold.”
Keelie wrapped her fin
gers around the cup and let its warmth soak into her body. She took another sip, then drained the contents. Her vision clouded, and objects began to seem strangely elongated. She didn’t feel dizzy, more as if she were being propelled forward on a rocket through space, but at the same time still sitting in her chair. She seemed to be able to see another layer around her, a different dimension that affected everything. She’d experienced something similar when she’d used dark magic.
Herne smiled mischievously. “It’s the fairy in you responding to the tea.”
“Have you awakened the dark magic? What have you done to me?” Panic welled up in Keelie. She had struggled so hard to control the dark magic now dwelling within her.
“You’re fine. It’s just kicked up your abilities a notch or two. Look at the book.”
Keelie blinked, and realized that she could now read the title of the book. “It’s called Into the Minds of Dragons.”
She thumbed through the pages. The strange letters rearranged themselves on the paper, and Keelie understood what she was reading.
When speaking to dragons, utilize utmost respect, and know that the dragon will not be fooled.
She looked at Herne, reminding herself that even if he wasn’t like the Shining Ones, he was still a fairy.
“Why are you helping me?”
Herne stared at her. “You asked for my help and said we must all work together. This is the key that you can use, because dark fae magic flows through you. It’s time you met others of your kind.”
Her kind? A little magic did not make her kin to the dark fae. “I hardly think—”
The cocoon of leaves shielding them from the world disappeared, and the colors of the aurora borealis undulated strangely against the bright sky. Keelie’s head began to whirl.
Herne reached for her. “Steady. Call upon the fae magic within you to control how you see things.”
“I’m not going to Under-the-Hill.” She’d had enough tours of fairyworld to last her quite a while. She felt a homesickness for the Dread Forest surge through her.
“It will open your eyes to another layer of the world and help you see things from a different perspective, which is what we’re all going to need if we’re going to repair the rift.”
Yes! Herne’s power would be a great help. Keelie didn’t want to go with him, but when she closed her eyes, she saw the gaping wound in Gaia’s Dome that protected Earth from space. The planet seemed so vulnerable. She could not walk away.
She met his warm gaze. “I’ll come with you.”
“Spoken like a brave fairy.” Herne reached for her hand, and she placed hers in his.
When she looked up at him, his eyes had darkened. She turned away. She had seen Sean stare at her with the same intensity, and she knew it meant that Herne was interested in her. He was a being of power and magic, and he found her attractive.
She liked it.
Maybe the tea had bewitched her, or the fairy magic within her was calling to him. Whatever it was, she found Herne incredibly handsome.
“Are you ready?” His voice was a forced whisper.
“Yes.”
A sharp jangling of discordant bells interrupted them.
Peascod spun up from underneath the ground, dirt spewing everywhere, spattering them with pebbles.
The Lord of Under-the-Hill didn’t seemed pleased with his jester.
Peascod’s burning glare bore into Keelie. “Insolent faker. Mongrel. You dare seduce my king? My liege, you must not take this creature to my realm.”
“Your realm?” Herne said softly. Then his face reddened and flames erupted in his eyes, flickering against the black. “You dare speak so to me?”
Keelie stepped back, ready to run. She’d known Peascod was dangerous, but not that he was stupid enough to confront Herne.
“Yes, I dare. You’ve never listened to me when I’ve advised you.” Peascod juggled his glass spheres and threw one up into the air. Light surrounded it, and in the deep reflection of the glass, Keelie saw the image of a beautiful woman who resembled Queen Vania. Princess Linsa.
Herne inhaled sharply and his face paled. “You dare show this to me.”
Peascod laughed behind his mask. “You allow your desires and feelings to interfere with your role as our king,” he hissed. “Yes, I question your decisions. Many of our brethren gather in the human town waiting to hear your orders, yet you call them rogues. We’re ready to claim the power that is rightfully ours. We have been held in submission by the High Court for thousands of years—now it is time to rebalance the world. If you bring the mongrel elf-lover Keliel to Under-the-Hill, then we’ll know that our king does not support us.”
Herne seemed to grow taller as he looked down contemptuously at the jester. “These goblins are not mine. They are rogues indeed, the wild things of the cities of men. You have gathered them in my name, but they obey you, and have offered me no fealty.”
Peascod juggled on, but his eyes seemed to narrow. He turned his angry gaze to Keelie, then back to his former master. The scrying sphere descended, and the jester didn’t attempt to catch it. It landed on the hard, cold ground and shattered, the image of the woman exploding into many jagged images. Herne dropped to his knees and stared disbelievingly at the woman’s face, reflected over and over in the shards. He picked one up, and in a soft whisper spoke her name.
Then, tilting his head back, Herne lowered his cloak and it dropped to the ground like cloth wings. His cry of pain shredded Keelie’s heart.
She feared for her life. If Herne lashed out in his grief, and Peascod, who was just as dangerous, reciprocated, she’d die right here. She didn’t know where to run. She reached out to the trees.
Can you hear me?
Yes, Lady Keliel. We hear you. Your heart beats fast. We hear it all through our sap.
I need your help. Lend me your magic.
A wave of green magic enveloped her, creating a shield. She could feel the power flow through her body, awaiting her summons. She would defend herself, and she would return to Dad, to Grandmother, and to Sean.
Peascod looked at her, raw hate poisoning his gaze. He pointed at her with the needle-sharp fingernail of a goblin. “She will bring this pain to you again, Your Majesty. She will make you feel a mortal’s death. You can’t let it happen again.” His tone was smug, confident that he’d convinced his lord of Keelie’s evil plans.
Herne reached down for his cloak and draped it around his shoulders, then stood with slow, precise movements. He didn’t look at Keelie. He didn’t look at Peascod. Abruptly, the Lord of the Dark Fae spun around, his cloak whipping out, making him look like Lord Death coming to collect for his realm. He waved a hand and Peascod was lifted from the ground and held in midair, face up, so that his limbs flopped awkwardly from their sockets. His two remaining glass spheres dropped and clattered against each other on the ground like oversized marbles.
“Please, Lord Herne, I speak the truth. Do not hurt me. It is the elf girl that does this to you,” Peascod yelled.
“You dare show Linsa’s image to me? You invade my lands with rogue goblins, then dare suggest you need more power?” Herne rasped in anger. He reached out and grabbed Peascod by the throat. Dark mists of magic seeped from the ground, rising to encircle and bind the jester so that he couldn’t move his arms. He dangled his legs back and forth like a puppet as he struggled to free himself. His eyes bulged, and the green veins in the whites of his eyes grew larger.
Although Peascod deserved to be punished, Keelie didn’t want to see him strangled to death. On the cop movies she’d watched on television with Mom, hostage negotiators remained calm and kept a neutral tone of voice. “Lord Herne,” she said gently.
“Keliel.” Herne seemed to return to the present. He tightened his grip on Peascod, whose eyes bulged even bigger. He wrapped his hands ar
ound Herne’s, trying to pry them off his neck.
He wasn’t kicking out as much now, and Keelie could tell that if she didn’t stop Herne, Peascod wouldn’t be long for this world. She walked up to him and touched him on the shoulder, trying to quell her shaking. “Let him go. He’s not worth it. You don’t want his blood on your hands.”
“He would have me kill you,” Herne said. He squeezed Peascod’s neck even tighter. It was now a lovely shade of purple and brown. When asphyxiated, goblins must turn brown from lack of oxygen.
Keelie looked down at the image of the woman in the crystal shard. She lifted her hands up to Keelie, as if beseeching her to stop Herne. Keelie picked up the fragment, and held it in her palm, then held it out to the dark fae lord. She was taking a big risk, but it felt right.
“Linsa wouldn’t want you to kill Peascod.”
Herne slowly turned his head, and his black eyes filled with bloody tears as he gazed at the shard. Like an animation, the image of Linsa smiled and nodded at him.
Herne closed his eyes. Red tears trailing down his face, he dropped Peascod to the ground, where he lay, writhing and gasping for breath. The fairy lord took the glass shard, and the image of Linsa smiled. Then it faded, leaving behind empty broken glass.
Silence blanketed the area, broken only by Peascod’s ragged breath.
“She was very beautiful,” Keelie said softly.
“I never thought I would love. Five hundred years was too little time with her.” Herne turned, his face a mask of forced concentration. It was as if the tears and pain she’d seen seconds ago had been packed away, deep in a hidden chamber of his heart. “Don’t be surprised, Keliel Heartwood. The fae can love and lose just as humans and elves can. Pain is not exclusive to mortals.”
“Lord, forgive. Forgive, forgive,” Peascod beseeched as he crawled toward Herne.
The dark lord blasted the jester with silvery waves of magic, propelling him back ten feet. Peascod hit a beech tree’s trunk with a loud thud, and the snap of a cracking bone made Keelie wince. “Milord!” She placed her hand on Herne’s shoulder.
The Quicksilver Faire Page 14
