The Waking Magic (Winter's Blight Book 3)

by M. C. Aquila

  “I told you she was safe.”

  “But is she free?” James’s voice faltered. “Can I see her?”

  “I’ll be honest; our deal still stands. That is how magic works.” Cecil’s golden eyes glinted. “However, if you keep in contact with me, I am certain we can work something new out that will be beneficial to all involved. You can free her, James.”

  As James headed toward the festival grounds, he looked back once to see if Cecil and Vera were watching him. Once. Not twice.

  But they were no longer visible in the forest.

  I can still save Mum. I can still do this. Nothing has changed.

  He couldn’t help but feel like everything had changed. His backpack was filled with crystals he’d created, his notebook full of new information he’d never even dreamed of knowing, and his mind was filled with images he’d never wanted to see and information he wished he didn’t know.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Kallista wasn’t quite what Deirdre had expected. For some reason she’d envisioned her as being exactly like James: smart and likable but often willing to listen and follow someone else’s lead.

  But as they walked under the covered trails of the festival, using the largest central tree as their guide, which was decorated with hanging lights and lanterns, Deirdre wound up following Kallista. Aside from asking a couple of questions, Kallista took charge and found them the driest, easiest paths. Deirdre would have just taken the most direct path, dry or not.

  Though I guess keeping out of the mud might save time, and she might think I’m no good with rough terrain. Though she could have asked… Deirdre shook her head. No, she’s just being thoughtful. She’s smart, like Iain.

  But…

  Before Deirdre could voice what she was thinking, Kallista asked, “How do you know my sons?” The woman squinted at her, then added, quieter, “You… you’re a girl.”

  Deirdre tilted her head. “What does that have to do with my knowing them or not?”

  Kallista waved her hand through the air. “Never mind that. Did you come all the way here from Neo-London with them?”

  “Yes! First I was in trouble in Neo-London, but I didn’t do anything wrong. And James wanted to find you, so I went with him so he wouldn’t get himself hurt. And Alan—General Callaghan—sent Iain after us, but Iain decided to help me instead. After he cuffed me. See, Alan wanted me brought back to Neo-London because I’m a faery…” She trailed off as Kallista stiffened.

  Is she upset because I told her I’m a faery? Maybe she hates faeries too. Like her husband.

  After biting her lip, Deirdre said, “I’m not an evil faery or anything. I’m not Unseelie. And I didn’t even know I was a faery until recently.”

  At the sound of her voice, Kallista looked up at her in alarm, bewildered, as if she had forgotten Deirdre was there. She shook her head, saying, “No, I am not worried about that. If you are a friend to my sons, then you must be all right, faery or not.”

  Putting a hand to her chest, Deirdre let out a sigh of relief, smiling.

  After a minute of silence, she came up to walk beside the older woman. “Kallista, can I ask you something?”

  “Hmm?” Kallista hardly glanced at her, scanning the two paths in front of them before taking the narrower but sturdier wooden boardwalk. They were forced to walk single file again as they went down it.

  Deirdre followed behind, asking, “Why did you marry Alan?”

  Kallista halted, looking back over her shoulder, eyes hard. “Excuse me?”

  “Why did you marry Alan? I mean, you seem pretty nice, but he’s kind of…” She trailed off, looking away and realizing it might not be polite to call a woman’s husband “evil” to her face.

  Facing back ahead, Kallista walked at a brisker pace, wrapping her arms around herself. “Why would you ask me something like that?” She huffed. “I barely know you.”

  “But was he always like this? I’m wondering because Iain held out for Alan for a while. I always thought it was because they’re family maybe.” Deirdre shrugged. “But I don’t know a lot about family, so I could be wrong.”

  For a while they continued in silence; her insides squirmed. I’ve probably overstepped. I was never good at these things!

  Just when she was going to change the topic by asking how Iain learned to cook so well, Kallista slowed her pace and turned to look at her.

  “When we met…” She sighed, brushing her hair behind her ear. “He had a quiet steadiness and kindness to him. And since we were both alone in the world, we became each other’s family and created our own. I never doubted that he cared for me.”

  Deirdre folded her arms, thinking with a small shudder of the cruel look on Alan’s face the last time she saw him that made her feel like something being hunted. This image Kallista shared of Alan didn’t feel possible.

  “But”—Kallista let out a thin sigh—“he always carried hidden burdens, a pain that I couldn’t touch. He withdrew, and suddenly he was beyond my reach. He just changed, like his heart had turned cold.”

  “Yeah, okay,” Deirdre said without thinking, nodding to herself. “I wonder what happened?”

  Kallista didn’t respond but walked again, faster than before.

  Once they had gotten closer to the wedding, where the ceremony was in full swing, it only took a couple of inquiries to find that Cai—known well for being a weirdo who constantly carried a sword with him—was in a large, rowdy open-air bar. Kallista stiffened, and her expression sharpened as they dove into the noisy, smelly, and pushy crowd. Deirdre hurried through and found Cai at the bar with an empty mug in front of him, drinking a second one.

  “Cai!”

  When he saw her, his face sobered slightly, and he sat up straighter as he asked, “Where the hell are those lads? They’re letting you roam around by yourself to get into who knows what and noticed by who knows who? Idiots.”

  “Listen, we”—Deirdre gestured to Kallista, who joined her—“have to talk to you! Kallista saw soldiers coming toward the festival.”

  Cai didn’t even glance at her as he took another sip. “Sure she did.”

  Deirdre stomped her foot, her fists shaking in fury. “She did! She’s Iain and James’s mother, and she’s not a liar! We have to let everyone know they’re coming, or they’ll hurt everyone here!”

  “Their mother?” Cai set his drink down, twisting in his chair, looking over Kallista before turning to Deirdre. “Iain said they hit a dead end with that hunt. Are you sure she’s their mother? Do the lads know she’s here?”

  Deirdre shook her head. “No, I just found her, by accident, really. And yes, she is their mother—just look at her!”

  Turning all the way around in his seat to face them, Cai asked Kallista, “Why would the military be coming here? It’s been well over a decade since they last tried to ransack or break up this or any similar festival.”

  Kallista looked him in the eye, unwavering. “I overheard they were sending at least two battalions and… and a general. They’re coming straight here, and they’re looking for a faery of some kind.”

  Deirdre gulped.

  “That many men for one faery? He must be one hell of a beastie.”

  “Well, we’d be foolish to stay here and find out, yes?” Kallista placed her hands on her hips as she gave Cai a sharp once-over. She raised an eyebrow at him.

  Picking at her nails, Deirdre kept her gaze lowered. He’s coming for me. Alan’s coming. It’s just like that awful Boyd said. And all these people are in danger because of me. We have to do something.

  “When and where did you last see them?” Cai asked. “What do you think their ETA was?”

  Kallista considered before replying, “I suppose a couple of hours from now if their pace slows at all.”

  “It won’t.” Cai slipped off his seat, straightening and stretching to the side with a grunt. “If what you’re saying is true, some advance troops or scouts may be here soon or are already here.”

  “
We have to tell everyone!” Deirdre persisted, gesturing toward the crowds around them.

  “No. I’m going to tell Singh, the head of security. Most likely, he’ll have all of us”—he waved his finger in a circle, pointing at the two of them—“go on a little trip. See if this is real. If it’s not, well…” He let out a dry chuckle. “Wouldn’t be the first time they’ve locked up silly women and faeries for troublemaking.”

  Kallista flushed, eyes flashing; Deirdre scowled at him. “That’s not a nice thing to say! And why would you lock us up? We—”

  Cai rolled his eyes. “Do you even understand English, faery? If you run around saying those things, you could cause a panic. You could start a stampede, people running over and crushing each other just to get out of here. And it’d be all your fault for yelling out the news like some bloody crier.”

  Deirdre felt Kallista level a knowing I-told-you-so look at her but ignored it. “Okay, but we’re going to go out there, and”—she pointed at Cai—“you’ll see the soldiers, and you’ll see that we aren’t lying.”

  Cai gestured for them to follow, saying in undertone, “You’d better hope so.”

  * * *

  James trudged back to the area where he abandoned Deirdre, half expecting to see her still examining with oblivious rapture the trinkets in the stalls. With a pang of guilt, he realized he did not give her enough credit. She was nowhere to be seen.

  After deciding to head to the center of the fairgrounds where Iain had told them to meet him, James left. As he walked, he took out the Unseelie book from his pack, and with a deep breath, he opened it to where the missing pages had been.

  “What…?” James sucked in a breath, his eyes flitting over the pages. There were words written inked in the margins in swirling, neat cursive handwriting. When he flipped through the pages frantically, he saw that the whole book was littered with jottings.

  “I can’t believe it,” he thought aloud, his voice rising to a squeak. “It’s fully annotated! Look at these notes—tips and facts and observations—this is brilliant!”

  Turning the cover over, he saw that the binding was more secure, and the front cover was less frayed, the blue fabric vibrant instead of faded. The name of the author, embossed in silver, was no longer rubbed away, clearly readable: Cecil Morris.

  He gave me his copy. This is the original.

  With a tremor in his hands, he flipped to the back pages; there were blank pages left for note taking. A message was there in Cecil’s handwriting:

  James. While this book was written with the intention to understand Unseelie Fae, I have included a few extra details about Seelie faeries here for your benefit. I hear you intend to visit the Summer Court. I have only been myself on one occasion many, many years ago, and it is a truly splendid place. However, while there is beauty and pleasure in abundance, I caution you that Seelies and their ilk can be just as dangerous and deadly to mortals as the Unseelies. I doubt you will need to know how to best them since I am certain you can outwit them, but in case you find yourself in trouble in the Court, I hope these notes aid you well. Sincerely, Cecil.

  James was torn between gratitude and guilt. This person had agreed to make him a thrall when asked. He had kept James’s mother from him for six years, and whatever had happened to her during that time was harrowing enough to haunt her letters with grief. And yet Cecil had not forced his will on anyone. He was an intermediary, like he had said.

  He’s giving me a chance to find Mum… He said I could save her.

  After staring hard at the book in his hands for a long moment, he shoved it back into his bag, not liking how confused it made him. He tried to push all thoughts of what Cecil had shown him out of his head and focus on finding the rest of the group.

  It was not long before James spotted his brother. Iain was always easy to pick out of a crowd; he was tall and always charged through with purpose, rarely distracted by anything. Iain’s face was grim until he saw James and made a beeline for him.

  “Where’s Deirdre?” Iain asked, peering around as if expecting her to pop out.

  “I… I must have lost her,” James lied. “She was, um, right behind me a minute ago. Maybe she’ll meet us at the center of the festival where Cai is.”

  “I don’t know if Cai will be continuing with us to the Court,” Iain said as they began to walk side by side down the row of booths toward the large central trees.

  James balked. “Did he finally give up trying to steal from you? Or did you knock his block off?”

  “No,” Iain answered. “I gave him the amulet back, and I told him that he could stay and help us or leave with it.”

  “Obviously he’d leave with the amulet if you gave him the option,” James said with a scoff. Then he frowned thoughtfully and asked, “So then why did you, uh, do it?”

  “I don’t think you’re right about him, exactly, but you were right when you said I shouldn’t keep the amulet from him. If he’s going to help us, then it should be his choice. Whether he cares or not… we’ll find out.”

  James nodded. “Okay.”

  “Now that we’ve hit a dead end with Mum, I think it’s our best bet to ask for help once we get to the Summer Court.”

  When James looked up at his brother, he saw the well-hidden exhaustion and weariness lining his face, and the dark circles under his eyes were more prominent than ever.

  James looked ahead with his head high. “You don’t need to worry anymore, Iain. We’ll find Mum, and I have the information we need. And… and I can look out for you too sometimes.”

  After halting to rummage through his pack, he produced the book again. Holding it, all he felt was determination to use it for a good purpose and a burst of confidence that he had done the right thing, the smart thing.

  “See this?” James held open the book and pointed to the pen-and-ink illustration of a large monster cat prowling low to the ground. “This is the Moorland Beast, and it’s the Cait Sidhe Mum mentioned in her letter. I have all the information we need about him.”

  “James—” Iain was clearly about to scold him, but he stopped abruptly like he was restraining himself. Then he asked, measured, “You and Deirdre went to meet that guy then?”

  “Uh, yes. Deirdre and I went together, so it was safe.” James let out a nervous chuckle. “I told you I could take care of myself, Iain.”

  They neared a booth where James had ditched Deirdre, and he decided to ask if the vendor had seen her. He approached a stall of leather and beadwork and asked the vendor, “Have you seen a ginger girl recently? We, uh, just got separated.”

  “I saw her here about an hour ago, fretting about her losing her boyfriend.” The woman appraised him. “You him?”

  “Uh, must be another ginger girl. She’s, uh, not my girlfriend.”

  Iain, who was standing to the side, peered over at him curiously, squinting.

  “What?” James asked him.

  “Nothing.” Iain shrugged.

  “Wait a moment, lad,” the vendor said when he turned to leave. “I just remembered I saw her again just a few minutes ago. She was with a dark-haired woman, and they were headed that way.” She pointed to the southeast corner of the festival.

  Dark-haired woman? Maybe she found someone to help her look for me.

  “James,” Iain said as they headed toward where the woman pointed. “After we find Deirdre… it’s probably nothing, but I overheard someone talking about the Iron Guard coming here.”

  James’s limbs went numb. “So?”

  “So if it’s true, we’ll need to warn people, help them get out. If the Iron Guard is coming for Deirdre, we’ve got to do something.”

  It was his first instinct to deny what Iain said and rationalize what he heard. But James was uncertain.

  Cecil knew we were coming, and if he could track me, then the army could too, couldn’t they? I know Cecil said he’s an intermediary, but whose side is he really on? And if the Iron Guard is on their way, then Dad must be with them.
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br />   Cold fear pumped through his veins. He was the only one who knew that his father was capable of anything, that he would hold nothing back. They were all in danger.

  “James,” Iain said gently. “I know you don’t want to get involved in this, but if they’re really coming…”

  “Fine,” James said. “We can warn everyone, and then let’s get out of here.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  “They are coming, sir.”

  The scout, a short man named Gunnar, who had the same faint ethereal glow as Alvey, appeared from the trees ahead. Deirdre and Kallista were in front of Cai, who brought up the rear of the party. They were taking a deer trail through the misty woods toward the southeast border of the forest. There were four men in the festival’s militia and the head of security for the festival, Singh, a bald, dark-skinned man with a thick salt-and-pepper beard.

  “Lead the way.” Singh nodded to Gunnar, who immediately turned and took them down a more obscure trail, heading due south.

  “The head of the main force is moving slowly,” Gunnar said as they went; he made no noise as he walked. “It’s almost as if they are taking their time on purpose or as if they’re afraid of leaving something behind. If we’re quiet, we can get a better look from the southern ridges and report back to town with no problem. I didn’t see any scouts or point forces.”

  “But there may be some about,” Singh said. “We’ll assess their main force and head back immediately.”

  Deirdre couldn’t help but whisper to Cai, “I guess that means you owe someone an apology, doesn’t it?”

  “You’re right.” Cai turned to Gunnar. “I’m sorry when I said half elves are useless. You’re somewhat useful sometimes.”

  “Well, thanks then,” he returned with a small snort, shaking his head as he led them on.

  Cai looked at Deirdre. “Happy now, your ladyship?”

  “That’s not what I—”

  “Quiet, everyone,” Singh snapped. “We’ll want to keep a low profile in case there are scout forces, and that means silent movement, everyone.”