The Waking Magic (Winter's Blight Book 3)

by M. C. Aquila

  “And he has Puck.” Alvey jerked her head toward Kallista. “How long has Puck been there?”

  “I suppose nearly seven years.”

  Lifting her head, Alvey lowered her hands, gaping for a moment before saying, “That is him. ’Tis the same Cait Sidhe who stole my eyes.” She traced around her shut eyes with her fingers.

  “What?” James shook his head, going pale. “Why would he do that?”

  “He stole them because they’re immensely valuable.” She turned up her nose. “My eyes are worth a great deal more than yours, James.”

  “That’s not really what I meant—”

  Alvey talked over him, beginning to gesticulate. “Puck went to retrieve my eyes, back when they were first stolen, and we have not seen him since. Truly, this must be the same one! This Cait Sidhe…” She leaned back in her chair, suddenly shivering. “It must be immensely powerful to contain Puck.”

  “Well”—Kallista clasped her hands on her knees—“Puck asked me to go to the Summer Court to tell Oberon where he is.”

  Puck, an extremely powerful faery… asked a human for such an important favor? Cai narrowed his eyes. What the hell is this Cait Sidhe that the Seelie court couldn’t search his territory? He can’t be a normal faery cat. If he comes for them… His eyes fell on Kallista and James. They won’t stand a chance.

  “But this is very good.” Alvey nodded to herself a few times. “We have been wondering what became of him. He did not even come when Oberon summoned him… and he always comes when Oberon calls.”

  “He’s that loyal?” Cai asked.

  “Aye, and…” Alvey snickered into her fingers. “He is also a craven when it comes to the king.”

  “Right.” Cai folded his arms loosely. “I’m guessing, if the Summer Court doesn’t free him, they’ll be at a distinct disadvantage… is that right, Alvey?”

  “Aye. He is our best spy.”

  Cai looked over the group, clasping his hands. Deirdre lost her magic. James is dabbling in who knows what… some sort of witchcraft maybe. Iain has potential but little training. Alvey and Kallista are smart but not strong. And the faery—no, Deirdre. He glanced over to where she slept, curled up in the dark. Who knows if she’ll recover from this?

  I can’t turn away from this. Not when they’ve looked to me and given me a chance, again and again. Especially now—he glanced at his left side—that I know I can fight through the pain. If I fought through that attack from that bizarre magic of Alan’s, then I can do it again. This pain won’t get the best of me, never again.

  But… He scratched his chin, suddenly feeling self-conscious. If I shared all this with them, I get the feeling I’ll never hear the end of it.

  “Puck not being present could be a factor that turns the tide in favor of the Winter Court or the human military or both,” Cai said, holding his head higher. “So I’ll be coming with you all. I’ll come with you to the Summer Court.”

  Iain did not say anything, though he looked up from his cooking while James rolled his eyes, turning away, muttering.

  Kallista gave him a pointed look, asking, “In your condition? You’ll barely be able to move.”

  Cai waved her concerns away. “My body’s superficial wounds heal very fast; I can keep up just fine by tomorrow. After all, you’ll have to take it slow for Deirdre and her ankle.”

  Shaking a finger at him, Kallista said, “Only as long as you let me check on you as often as I wish to. Your wounds are severe and extremely irregular…” She frowned at his bandaged torso. “How did you get them? They are… very unusual.”

  “Alan had this odd crystal.” Cai met eyes with Iain. “It let loose some dark magic. I can’t say I’ve seen anything like it. Did you lot ever see him with anything like that? It looked like the crystal was part of him.”

  At the mention of her husband, Kallista tensed. After swallowing hard, her hands curling into fists at her sides, she just shook her head once in answer.

  Cai flitted his gaze to James, expecting him to pipe up. But the boy said nothing. He just sat there, frowning at the ground.

  Normally at the mention of magic, he’d be running off questions faster than he can breathe… So why is he quiet now?

  “I don’t know anything about it,” Iain said, his voice thick. “I didn’t think that… General Callaghan would ever resort to using any type of magic. Maybe it was connected with Cait Sidhe? That creature’s the one he made a deal with for that horrible machine.”

  “What?” James looked up. “Right… Uh, right. The machine.”

  “Maybe it’s connected or maybe not.” Cai traced a finger gingerly over his wounds. “All of you have noticed by now, but my body isn’t normal. It was cursed. Right after I was cursed, I was locked away for centuries, in a tree—a bit like that story of Merlin going around these days. The Cataclysm was what finally set me free. Because of the curse, I don’t age or get injured easily, and I don’t stay dead. All my mortal wounds heal, and I come back if killed. But any mortal wounds take years, decades to heal. Or they never quite do. Regardless, they were all in pretty good condition recently.

  “But when Alan’s magic lashed out at me, it didn’t just go after my skin and muscles; it dug deep. It’s like it knew about the curse, knew about those old wounds that were still inside. It aggravated them and worsened them like nothing I’ve ever seen before.”

  When no one else spoke, Alvey piped up. “Methinks it may possess the same magic as the magic that cursed you originally.”

  Cai jerked his head toward her, his brow furrowed. “You really think that?”

  “Well, I was not there to sense it myself, was I? It could as well be the exact opposite to what cursed you.” Alvey raised her hands. “Either could cause the magic to be quite potent.”

  Shaking his head, he chuckled. “So it’s a mystery then. Bloody magic.”

  The chatter continued as Alvey asked Iain to describe in more detail what the magic that attacked Cai looked like. Cai leaned forward as much as was comfortable, resting his chin on his less injured left hand, looking at the fire and tuning the noise out.

  Even after all this time, I don’t know for certain who or what laid this curse on me. It… couldn’t have been this Cait Sidhe, could it?

  Alan’s magic—he grimaced down at his injured side—certainly indicates it could be the Cait Sidhe. There’s also the fact it trapped Puck. But for a Cait Sidhe of all things to be this powerful… it feels like something’s missing. There’s more behind all this.

  And just how far does it go? This Cait Sidhe seems to be acting in the interest of the Winter Court, but is it simply an ally or a full member of the court? If it’s a member, that means it could be connected directly to the king and queen.

  “I don’t like this,” he muttered at the fire. He noticed Alvey twitched her head toward him and shut his mouth.

  She can hear as well as any hound dog.

  Leaning forward a bit farther, he watched the sparks from the flames jump up at the darkness, floating above the flames. I can see what these faeries have done in the past. But I’m in the dark with no idea who they are or what exactly is driving them. Without enough information, it’s easy to make a misstep. Or fail to act, fail to do anything, because the path ahead is so unclear…

  “That’s enough of that,” he mumbled, not caring that Alvey could hear him. “I’ll just have to do what I can. As for what I don’t know… I’ll just be flexible, like always.”

  “Methinks you shall not be flexible at all with those ancient, stiff joints,” Alvey said with a wide smile.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Back home in Neo-London, before he began working night shifts with the Iron Wardens under Commander Prance, Iain had liked to wake up early before the dawn, when the house was silent and everyone in it was peaceful. The morning quiet had always made the strife between his family seem remote, and he’d always hoped that the day ahead would be better. Now at the campsite, he rose before daybreak, readied himse
lf for the day, and then sat by the lazily burning, smoking fire.

  He swept his gaze over the group. Seeing them sleeping, safe, his hope was bolstered. Once they reached the Summer Court, Deirdre would find her family and heal her magic. Mum and James would be safe. The Seelie Fae would be warned in time, and war would be prevented. Injustices would be made right.

  Slowly the rest of the group stirred. Deirdre sat up and stretched gingerly, avoiding moving her injured ankle too much. Mum got up and went to a nearby stream to wash her face and hands; when she returned, she made a beeline for Cai, who was sitting up scratching his beard with a bleary expression.

  Mum knelt beside Cai to examine his wounds. All the while, Cai attempted to wave her away, insisting he was fine and that he didn’t need her hovering over him. She did not budge.

  “Does it hurt when I do this?” she asked him tersely.

  “What, when you jab your fingers into my open wounds? No, that feels great.”

  Standing, Mum placed her hands on her hips, and Iain bit back an amused grin. Cai really had no idea what he was getting into in agreeing to accompany them.

  “Well, you do not have to be so fussy.”

  “Fussy?” Cai went as red as his beard. “I’ve dealt with injuries a lot worse than this—decapitation, for example.”

  “You could have fooled me.” Mum actually smiled, teasing in her voice. Then she said, “Regardless, I would say you are cleared for the journey. Just take it easy, and don’t push yourself.”

  With a scoff, Cai batted his hand through the air, looking like a bear taking a swipe at a little bee that was pestering him. Mum stood and shuffled away, heading to shake a stubbornly sleeping James.

  It was not long before the group had packed their belongings, doused the fire, covered the ashes with soil, and set out north toward Cumbria. Ordinarily, they would have stayed well away from the road, but with Deirdre’s ankle and Cai’s wounds, level ground was preferable. So they trekked just to the side of the road behind a line of trees.

  Cai seemed hell-bent on proving his injuries were healing, taking the lead, while Mum lingered at the back of the group with Alvey. In the middle, the brothers helped Deirdre along as they had the previous day. Occasionally Iain would ask Deirdre how their pace was or try to make conversation. James’s silence throughout was tense and palpable.

  Deirdre then found a sturdy, smooth, twisted branch that looked like a wizard’s staff to use as a crutch. She rolled her rain jacket and tucked it under one arm, using it to cushion where she leaned on the stick.

  After a few minutes of getting used to it, she said, “I can walk on my own for a while.”

  “You sure?” Iain wondered if she was just saying that to avoid the awkwardness of James being sour at both of them.

  “Promise!” Deirdre nodded, her ginger hair bobbing and looking like spun copper as it caught the dappled sunlight.

  When she offered him a faint but assuring smile, he returned it. Then he looked up through the canopy of trees and said, “Hey, the sun’s out. I nearly forgot it existed. No more rain.”

  For a flicker, Deirdre’s face looked pained, as if he had brought up a loved one she was still grieving. But then she wiped her brow where sweat had formed from her hard work, and strode forward with determination.

  Iain and James walked side by side through the underbrush in silence for a minute. Eventually Iain asked, “Are you ready to talk about what happened yesterday?”

  James carded a hand through his hair, which was curling around his ears in the damp and needed a trim. “I dunno. Are you going to yank me up by my arm if I’m not?”

  Iain cleared his throat. “I just want to understand what’s going on with you. And I want things to be all right between us.”

  “I want that too,” James said. “But first you have to trust me, Iain. Trust that I had a good reason for the stuff I did.” There was a certainty in his little brother’s tone, a confidence. He did not stutter or stumble over his words.

  Iain pressed him further for information but got nothing from him. He knew from yesterday that he couldn’t force his brother to confide in him. James would have to do that on his own when he was ready.

  After a minute, Iain asked, “Do you have any questions about what happened yesterday, with Cai and the machine and everything?”

  “Dad was the one who drained Deirdre’s magic, wasn’t he?” James asked in a low voice.

  Iain clenched his hands into fists as his pulse thundered angrily. “He was the one. What he did to her… He’s a monster. And with that magic, that crystal he had, it was like he was actually inhuman.”

  There was no more room to deny what his father was, how he’d always been. He had manipulated and lied to convince people and his own family of the person he wanted them to think he was. Things would be different because of the crystal and the dark magic seeping from it. Now there was no hiding the monster he was.

  * * *

  Alvey pushed her chair down the winding path, listening to Iain and Deirdre chat ahead of her. For a moment she considered pushing ahead and butting between them, but she had heard what happened yesterday: how Iain went back to help her during the battle. How he helped her escape after being captured by Alan, carrying her back.

  They’d hardly been apart for a moment yesterday or this morning; in comparison, Iain had spoken little to Alvey.

  Is it something about my appearance? she thought, biting down on her lip. He didn’t even mention me to his mother, and now he seems to be partial to Deirdre. I heard human men sometimes prefer ginger girls… is that what this is?

  Or perhaps it is like Deirdre said. He believes I am too young—too young for his interest.

  Her chin quivered, and as she heard James walk up beside her, she clenched her jaw steady, unwilling to betray weakness to him. Especially after doing so yesterday when they were attacked.

  If it had been Iain, I would not have minded. She tilted her head, listening, hoping to sense Iain perhaps slowing down to walk and talk with her. But he did not.

  Instead, James fell in stride with her. “Alvey? How’s it, um, going this morning?”

  “’Tis perfect,” she snapped. “I am just being ignored by everyone.”

  “Well, I’m not ignoring you,” James replied, his voice low.

  “Aye.” Alvey drew her hand over her mouth, sniffing. “Pray, what do you want?”

  “Well, um… can you still hear me?” James was now whispering so low no one else could possibly hear.

  “Aye,” she replied, nearly as quiet. “Is this about that magic you mentioned yesterday? Is that why you are being secretive?”

  “Yeah.” James huffed lightly. “No one else understands, but… I think you might.”

  “’Tis possible.” She pursed her lips, wondering exactly where this conversation would lead. A cautious part of her urged her to end it, but she ignored the warning and asked, “Why do you wish to learn magic?”

  “I don’t want to rely on anyone else to protect me ever again,” James replied immediately, still in a low undertone.

  Alvey nodded. “That is understandable. That is why I left the realm, after all.”

  “To make that, um, charm?”

  “Aye, it will be a charm. After…” She hesitated but pressed on. “After I was caught in the time rapids, rushing me forward two years… I hated it. That is, other faeries could both sense and avoid such streams. I could not avoid it, as I have no magic. And since I was alone at the time, no faeries could save me.

  “I despised being so helpless. I know what it is like to have no magic and to hate it.”

  “Yeah.” James gulped. “So, when I keep learning, do you want to see it? I mean, not see it, I mean…”

  “I am intrigued by it, if that is what you mean. I am curious where this goes. But”—she tilted her face upward—“what do you wish to use magic for?”

  James coughed lightly but continued in a confident voice. “I want it so when anything comes
after me, after us, I can take care of it on my own.”

  “Iain shall not approve, I imagine.”

  “Yeah, well, Iain doesn’t have to know. And he’s not right about everything. He’s been wrong about a lot of things.”

  “And your mother? Shall you hide it from her too?”

  James didn’t immediately reply. “She’ll understand someday.”

  Alvey ducked her chin, her cheeks warming. Never before had James sounded this confident and driven—plus his voice hadn’t cracked once during the entire conversation.

  “Very well. I shall be your ally in this, even just as a confidant and observer. I, too, am curious.” Then she lifted her hand toward him.

  He froze. “What?”

  “Humans shake their hands to make a pact, aye?”

  “Oh. Right.” She heard what sounded like him quickly wiping his palm on his jacket before taking his hand in hers, shaking it very lightly.

  She held on longer than she knew was required, smiling. Aye… I am curious to see where this goes.

  * * *

  As the group traveled, the terrain inclined, slowing their pace. Evening drew near, and they set up camp in a clearing with ruins that were shielded by an enormous cliffy hill on one side that was rocky and dotted with trees. Cai explained that the skeletal stone remains were from an old monastery, which would keep Unseelie Fae from sneaking up on them in the night.

  “Iain, let’s scout out the area.” Cai nodded in the direction of the moss-covered hill. “We’ll get a decent view from the top. Stay sharp and bring your axe.”

  “Right,” Iain said, jumping to his feet. Mum made a disapproving noise in her throat but said nothing as Iain eagerly shouldered his pack to follow Cai.

  Once they started their ascent, it was clear that Cai, no matter his protests, was still struggling with his injury. He pressed one hand to his side as they climbed, his face draining of color. But when they reached a ledge, with a groan, Cai lowered himself to sit on a smooth, flat rock at the edge.

  Then, as he rummaged through his various pouches and pocket, he said, “Let’s rest a minute, and… clear the air.”