Hetta’s eyes automatically sought Wyn’s. He had frozen, a tray piled with dishes held effortlessly in his good hand. He’d dispensed with the sling the day before, despite Hetta’s protests. His gaze was turned inwards, and it took him several seconds to acknowledge Hetta’s unspoken question. When he did, he looked thoughtful and inclined his head very slightly.
“You summoned Gwendelfear?” Jack asked.
“Yes,” Gregory said, jutting his chin out. “I told her she owed Alex, since she’s the one who set her free.”
The room absorbed this information thoughtfully, and Hetta felt a sudden flash of exasperated wrath towards her younger siblings. Did they have no sense at all?
“Is it possible?” Marius asked Wyn. “Could she heal Alex?” Everyone turned towards him, although Gregory looked confused.
Wyn sighed and put the tray back down on the table. “Yes.”
“But if Gwendelfear can, why couldn’t you help her?” Marius asked. There was a note of accusation in his voice.
Wyn was already shaking his head. “Healing is not one of my gifts.”
“What are you all talking about? Why are you asking Wyn like he’s an expert?” Gregory broke in.
Grandmamma, Jack, Marius, and Hetta exchanged glances. There was no one else in the room but for them and Wyn, as Gregory had chosen a moment when the other servers were absent.
Wyn’s lips twitched in a half smile as he turned back to Gregory. “I suppose I am some kind of expert.” He hesitated, then added, “I am fae myself, you see.” He said it lightly, but Hetta knew him well enough to spot the tension behind his seemingly casual statement. She was coming to realise just how careful Wyn was about revealing personal information.
Gregory stared at him. “What?” He looked around the dining room for support. Marius looked embarrassed, belatedly realising his slip had inadvertently outed Wyn. Grandmamma was watching with every evidence of enjoyment.
Jack merely thumped the table impatiently. “Never mind that,” he said, getting to his feet. “If Gwendelfear can heal Alexandra, then what are we waiting about for?”
“Wyn?” Hetta asked.
“Be very careful,” he said. “The fae are bound by their promises, but they are very, very good at finding loopholes. Exact words are important.”
Hetta’s eyebrows went up. Wasn’t that interesting?
“You all knew!” Gregory accused, pointing at Wyn. “How long have you known?”
“Does it matter?” Hetta said, shrugging and getting to her feet.
“I should rather think it does! How come it was fine to lock up Gwendelfear for being a fairy if Wyn has the run of the house?”
To everyone’s surprise, it was their grandmother who answered. “Because Wyn swore an oath to protect those of Stariel when he first came to us, many years ago.”
This time Gregory wasn’t the only one who looked at Wyn accusingly. Wyn looked rather sheepish.
“Well. Yes,” he said. “Lord Henry was no fool.”
“Father knew about fairies?” Gregory said.
Hetta was also curious to hear Wyn’s answer. It had always been peculiar that her father had so willingly accepted a strange boy into his household. He wasn’t a flexible or warm-hearted man. She’d always presumed that it was a measure of Wyn’s innate charm that he’d managed to thaw even Lord Henry’s heart. But if there had been something rather more like a bargain to begin with, it made a great deal more sense.
“He knew enough to know how much he did not know,” Wyn said finally. “Enough to take advantage of an opportunity when it presented itself.”
Jack seemed neither surprised nor interested. “There will be time for nattering later,” he said, striding to the door. “Where is she, Gregory?”
For the first time, Gregory looked a little ashamed of himself. “I—ah—I told her she could cross the boundary. She’s waiting down by the copper beeches.” In response to everyone’s silent but intense rebuke, he added in a rush, “Well, it saves us a tramp to the boundary, doesn’t it?”
40
Fairy Magic
They followed Gregory’s lead out of the house, pausing only to retrieve coats, hats, and footwear. Hetta put a hand on Wyn’s arm to hold him back, and the two of them were the last in the procession.
Wyn looked down at her with an unreadable expression but didn’t object when she tucked her arm into his as they walked.
“This oath business,” she said in a low voice. “How does that work?”
“Fae cannot lie.”
Hetta stumbled and gripped his hand for balance. It was warm even through their gloves, and she could feel his pulse racing despite his outward appearance of calm. He flashed her a fierce grin.
“You can’t lie?” she asked, not because she doubted him but because she needed to speak the words aloud again to confirm them.
“No. I cannot.” A hint of laughter in his voice. “It’s a heavy burden to bear. Please endeavour not to take too great advantage of it.”
It was too big a revelation to process all at once, so she asked the next obvious question as they made their way past the house and down to the woods bordering the northern edge of Starwater.
“Will Gwendelfear be bound by a promise to me, even though I’m not Stariel’s lord?” Hetta conjured a string of lights without a second thought, though Jack had already switched on his flashlight. He shot her a narrow glance, annoyed and yet knowing he was being unreasonable. The woods that Hetta had walked through not so long ago with Wyn on their way down to the Home Farm were much less inviting in the dark, with the chill bite of winter bearing down upon them. Hetta hunched in on herself in an effort to preserve a little warmth. Wyn drew her to his side, as if to share a measure of his own, and she found it difficult not to give in to the urge to simply burrow into him.
“Yes. Our word is binding, unless we wish to lose a measure of our power.”
“She called you Oathbreaker. Gwendelfear.”
Wyn stiffened next to her but said nothing.
Hetta tried to put together what she knew of Wyn’s past. “You said you ran from an engagement. Does that count as a broken oath?”
Wyn’s answer was so soft she had to strain to hear it. “Yes.”
She wanted to question him further, but Jack had realised that Hetta wasn’t beside him and Marius and had swung around to find her. He scowled when he saw how close Wyn and Hetta were standing, and Hetta sighed and disentangled herself.
“Where is she?” she asked Gregory.
Gregory looked around. “She said—”
“I am here,” said Gwendelfear, and, abruptly, she was. She stood before them in her fae form, her greenish hair flickering oddly in the yellow of Hetta’s spell light. Hetta had become accustomed to Gwendelfear’s whiteless, flower-pupiled eyes in the time she’d been here, but Jack, who hadn’t seen her since her unveiling, was visibly repelled. The fae’s dark green lips curved in a slight smile as she surveyed the party, though it disappeared for a second when she spotted Wyn.
“Hello, Gwendelfear,” said Hetta. “You know why we’re here.”
It wasn’t a question, but Gwendelfear nodded. “Alexandra.” Her face softened slightly as she shaped the name.
Hetta saw no need to beat around the bush. “Can you heal her?”
Gwendelfear studied her face. “Yes,” she said eventually. “I think so.” Her eyes fixed unerringly on Wyn’s. “I see you are still alive, Oathbreaker.”
Hetta didn’t realise she’d stepped forward until she felt Marius’s hand on her shoulder, holding her back.
“I am,” Wyn said steadily, his arms crossed as he looked down at the fae woman.
A dark smile whispered over her face before she said, “Ask what you have been wanting to ask,” in a colder tone.
He frowned slightly but unfolded his arms. “How,” he said, then added, “and why?”
A small smirk flickered on Gwendelfear’s lips before she answered. “My father was a grea
ter naiad.”
Wyn blinked rapidly, evidently impressed, although Hetta hadn’t found this utterance particularly informative. She dredged up some of her education. “Naiads are some kind of water fairy?”
“Waterfae,” Gwendelfear corrected.
“They’re known for their healing gifts,” Wyn explained. “DuskRose is not known for such, so I was curious as to where Gwendelfear had acquired such a talent.”
Gwendelfear narrowed her eyes at him. “Does it irk you that you, with all the magic of the mighty stormdancers behind you, cannot do this? That you must beg a lesser fae for help?” Her tone was mocking, but Wyn didn’t rise to her bait.
Instead, he nodded to himself. “And why, Gwendelfear, would you offer this?”
“I want to be free of my obligation. The little Valstar girl freed me; I must repay the debt. But you would not understand such things, would you, Oathbreaker? Tell me, do your protectors feed you scraps from their table and tell you that you’ve been a good dog when you perform tricks for them?”
Wyn’s expression didn’t so much as flicker, but the air around him changed, becoming as charged as a looming thunderstorm, the taste of elektricity and spice in the air. Hetta had had difficulty seeing the prince in him before; she saw it now as he straightened, eyes cold.
“Do you have any other motivation for offering to heal Alexandra?” he pressed.
Gwendelfear glared at him, and Hetta realised that Wyn was trying to drive her into a corner. Clearly there was another reason and just as clearly Gwendelfear did not wish to reveal it.
“Does it involve bringing harm to Stariel or those who reside in it?” Hetta asked when it seemed like they were at an impasse.
“No,” Gwendelfear ground out.
“Then I don’t care what it is. You may keep your secrets, if you can heal my sister.”
Wyn was still full of brooding menace, and said, “Speak the words,” to Gwendelfear.
She tilted her head at him chidingly. “Of course. I am glad to make this bargain. I will attempt to heal Alexandra in repayment of my debt to her. I will even do you one better and promise to do no harm to those of Stariel from now until I cross the border.”
Wyn still looked suspicious, but he nodded in answer to Hetta’s silent question.
And then Marius said suddenly: “You care about Alex.”
Gwendelfear glared at him as if sheer ill-will could silence him, but he appeared not to notice, repeating his words with increasing confidence. “Gregory told you how badly off she is. You’re worried about her.”
Gwendelfear said nothing, and that, in itself, was an answer.
“Well, in any case, let’s get on with it,” said Hetta, after it was clear no one else was quite sure what to say.
Phoebe was awake again and sitting with Aunt Sybil at Alexandra’s bedside when the small army of Valstars approached. Her fatigue was such that it wasn’t until they were all assembled around Alexandra that she frowned and began to form a question. By this time, Aunt Sybil had noticed Gwendelfear’s presence and had begun to demand her own answers in a forceful whisper that was louder than normal speech.
Hetta explained as best she could, and the two women reacted predictably. Phoebe seemed ready to embrace Gwendelfear as a saviour; Aunt Sybil was suspicious but grudgingly willing.
Gwendelfear’s gaze went past them to Alexandra’s pale form in the bed, and something changed in her expression of self-satisfaction. Marius has guessed truly: Gwendelfear did care about Alexandra. The flicker of worry was gone in an instant, but Hetta had seen it.
“She will need to be in water,” Gwendelfear said.
“Will a bathtub be suitable?” Hetta asked before any of her relatives could begin objecting.
Gwendelfear tilted her head to one side and considered. “Yes. The water should come from Starwater.”
“The lake water is freezing!” Aunt Sybil objected before Hetta could stop her. “And you just expect us to carry buckets of it up here?”
Gwendelfear turned to her and said calmly, “Yes.” Aunt Sybil drew in an angry breath. “This is magic, Sybil Langley-Valstar. It does not operate according to people’s convenience.”
“Can we heat the water?” Hetta too didn’t like the idea of putting her sister into ice-cold lake water. But Gwendelfear shook her head.
“No. It changes the nature of the thing.”
“Well,” said Hetta, “I suppose we had best fetch some buckets then.”
The serving staff were somewhat astonished when what seemed like every Valstar within shouting distance traipsed down to the kitchen in search of containers. It was something of a testament to the family’s collective oddities that they acquiesced without fuss, although their eyes burned with curiosity. Wyn received many speaking looks, and Hetta knew that he would be expected to explain once they got him alone. She had no doubt that he would manage to come up with something but marvelled for the first time at the skill it would require to mislead people without speaking a word of untruth. No wonder he’d held that secret so closely; once people knew it, they would pay far too much attention to his precise words.
There was an icy wind straight down from the Indigoes, and its cold crept under scarves and pulled at hair. The reeds by the lake shore were blown nearly flat, and the surface of Starwater was ruffled, small white caps of waves slapping against the shore.
It was entirely unnecessary for them all to fetch and carry, of course, but somehow it had become a family affair. They all wanted to help Alexandra, and if this was the only way they could help, then so be it. Only Phoebe and—at Hetta’s insistence—Jack had remained to watch Gwendelfear and Alex. Everyone else—including, to general wonder, Aunt Sybil—had taken hold of pails and water jugs and marched out into the blustery weather and down to the lakeshore.
Marius took one look at the water, removed his shoes, rolled up his trousers, and waded several steps out into the lake, gesturing impatiently for the others to hand him their vessels. Standing in deeper water, he was able to fill them more quickly. Hetta frowned at him as he took her pail.
“Don’t you get yourself sick too.” The water, she knew, would be only a few degrees above freezing at this time of year. His feet would be burning with the cold of it.
He handed her her pail impatiently and shrugged. “Best hurry along then.”
No one needed to make two trips to fill the bathtub. The tub they’d chosen for the event was in a large if slightly dilapidated bathroom tiled in pale green. To this, an unknown decorator had chosen to add a row of large feature tiles circling the room at waist height, showing sprigs of lavender.
Aunt Sybil banished the men from the room, although she had to make a small concession for Marius, who carried Alexandra in. She was feverish again, thrashing weakly against his chest. He spoke to her in a low voice, trying to comfort her, but her eyes showed no comprehension. His mouth thinned into a line as he contemplated the cold, slightly green-tinted water. He glanced at Gwendelfear, who nodded impatiently, and he carefully lowered Alexandra into the water, still in her nightgown.
Alexandra hissed at the shock of the temperature and clung to her brother like a cat, splashing water everywhere. Marius’s face whitened but he unpicked her fingers and stepped back, water dripping from his shirt. She sat, moaning piteously, her hands scrabbling at the tub’s edges, too weak to pull herself up. After a moment, she seemed to relax slightly. Perhaps, Hetta thought hopefully, she was so hot that the cold water was bringing her relief.
Without a word of warning, Gwendelfear clambered into the tub, crouching over Alexandra. Aunt Sybil made a wordless noise of protest, but Gwendelfear shot her a poisonous look, and the sheer alienness of her wide blue eyes was enough to silence her. Gwendelfear turned back to Alexandra, her expression sharpening. She leaned forward and placed a hand on either side of Alexandra’s head. Both of them stilled, until the surface of the water smoothed out again.
They made an odd tableau, Gwendelfear’s greenish ankles
emerging from the water on either side of Alexandra, whose head was now tilted back so that her eyes met Gwendelfear’s. She looked confused but not frightened. Her rasping breaths were the only sound in the small bathroom.
Although Gwendelfear had been in her fae form the entire time, something about her shifted even further from humanity. Her hair took on the appearance of multihued lakeweed, shifting as if it were slick with water. The water began to…glow was the closest word Hetta could find to describe it, but it wasn’t truly a glow. It was as if a sunbeam was suddenly filtering up through it, throwing the entire room into a greenish light. Gwendelfear’s skin grew greener too, or perhaps it was merely the effect of the light.
Ripples began to form where Gwendelfear’s skin touched the water, although she hadn’t shifted from her crouched stance. Her pose was very like that of a heron poised above a fish. Soon the surface of the water was as ruffled as Starwater’s had been earlier, though there was no wind or movement to cause it.
Small wisps of steam began to rise from the water. The light grew even greener, the waves even wilder, slapping against the edges of the tub. Alexandra made a small startled noise, and Hetta instinctively stepped towards them, but the light abruptly cut off and Gwendelfear sagged in sudden fatigue.
Gwendelfear released Alexandra’s head and stepped out of the tub, her movements stiff. But everyone’s eyes were on Alexandra, who was looking around the bathroom at her assembled relatives with a confused but entirely lucid expression on her face and pupils of the proper size.
“What’s going on?” she asked.
Phoebe gave a sob and flung herself at her daughter, wrapping her arms around her, entirely heedless of Alexandra’s soaked condition.
“Mama!” Alexandra objected, but Phoebe just gave another strangled sob and then began immediately to fuss about getting her out of the cold water and back into her bed, to which Alexandra said only, “But the water is quite warm, Mama. Why am I in my nightgown? And why are you all here?” Her gaze went especially to Marius, and she blushed.
The Lord of Stariel Page 25