by M. C. Aquila
“But let us not speak of this further for now. Alvey”—Sybil reached across the table and patted her hand—“would you go and fetch rosemary from the far side of the glen? I think your father would like to add some to this tea later today.”
Alvey smiled. Her mother could have gotten the rosemary herself at any time or she could have asked Alvey to do it later. She clearly wants me out of the way so she can ask James some questions. Clever as she is, I do not think she ever truly grasped how good my hearing is…
“Of course, Mother,” Alvey said, still grinning as she got back into her chair and left the gazebo, wondering what she was about to overhear.
She made her way toward the sprawl of herbs that had been planted in the glen, filling it with a scent that soothed Sybil’s nerves. If Alvey moved too quickly, eavesdropping would be harder, but she might draw suspicion if she was too slow.
She was rewarded with the following exchange:
“James.”
“Y-yes, ma’am?” His voice was high-pitched, and he was no doubt nervous to be alone with a Noble faery.
“You are very fond of Alvey, are you not?”
“I…” He cleared his throat again. “I-I think she’s pretty brilliant.”
“She is very fond of you.”
Alvey halted, letting out a small gasp, her cheeks burning.
“You think so?” James’s voice sounded hesitant but eager. It was painfully clear he wanted to believe Sybil’s words.
“Aye. And I do not wish to see her hurt. By anyone. Ever.” Sybil’s voice was icy, and Alvey shuddered involuntarily, remembering when she had disobeyed a direct order from her parents and had nearly gotten killed, stampeded over by stone trolls. That was the only time Sybil had ever scolded her, and it had been petrifying.
She wasn’t surprised when James could not reply at first, except for letting out a few faint, weak attempts. Then he managed to answer, “Neither do I.”
“What are your intentions with my daughter, James?”
Mother! We’re only fourteen years old! Alvey thought, blushing furiously and pushing toward the herbs, intending to grab them and stop the conversation as soon as possible.
“I just, um… I mean, I like her. But I need to spend more time with her. Get to know her better, I guess?”
“Ah. And what does getting to know a girl mean to you?”
Alvey slowed her pace, curious to hear how James approached the matter. She had heard a variety of mixed reports on human courtship.
When James finally replied, his voice was strained as if his throat was dry. “It means, well…” He let out a nervous laugh and his voice grew clearer. “Getting to know what she likes and dislikes—Alvey dislikes a lot of things. And what she thinks about the world and, um… things.”
“Things?”
“Um, like life, I guess.” He laughed again. “I guess just understanding who she is and who she wants to be.”
“I see.” Sybil took a long, loud sip of tea. “I heard my daughter had her first kiss yesterday, James.”
Alvey’s mouth fell open. How in the world…? I didn’t tell her! …Though I did tell Father…
“You do not expect anything more than that, do you?”
“No,” James immediately replied.
“What, pray tell, does that mean?” Alvey burst, swinging her chair around and charging back. “Am I so dreadfully horrible at it? Is that what you’re saying?”
“Wh-what? No!” James’s voice cracked painfully. “You’re… you’re just fine at it!”
“Oh, just fine?” Alvey sniffed as she rolled back toward the table. “That’s what every girl wants to hear after her first kiss!”
“Alvey, you were eavesdropping?” Sybil asked in a tone that demanded attention.
Blushing in shame, Alvey still snapped, “Aye, I was! And good thing too! I heard”—she held back tears—“I’m a dreadful kisser and… and no one would ever want to kiss me a second time, and—”
“That is not what I meant,” Sybil said flatly.
“Uh, that’s not, uh, what we were talking about,” James protested at the same time. “I-I never said anything about not, um, kissing you again.” He was so embarrassed Alvey could sense heat coming from him.
“Then what was—?” Alvey’s mouth fell open. “Oh. Right. I…” She blushed, feeling extremely childish. “I understand. I, um…” They were silent, and she felt certain they were looking at her—she covered her face with her hands, unable to bear it.
This is a sort of stupid thing Deirdre would do! Oooh, now James will think I am so immature, and—
“I’m going for the rosemary!” she burst, swinging her chair around and rolling away once again.
She heard her mother laugh, not unkindly, then say to James, “Alvey often takes her meals with me when I am well. James, I would like you to dine with us when I am… fit to have company. Alvey will let you know either way. Unless you have other plans?”
“N-no.” He let out a small burst of genuine, unstrained laughter, then continued, “I-I’d like that very much. Thank you.”
Chapter Thirteen
Cai tapped his foot as he waited at the edge of the training grounds of the Eniad for Iain to arrive. The grounds were a wide, sloping, grassy mountain plain, nestled between two rugged, steep mountains, the tallest in the realm. There were patches of fir trees at the foot of the hills, but the valley itself had only the faeries and their equipment, which were carried by large roe deer and broad, strong badger-like faeries, who acted as pages, minding the deer and passing out weapons—a mix of training and battle-worthy swords, bows, and lances—to any faery who requested one.
Despite Cai’s wide array of experience with good and evil faeries, he still was unable to relax around these Nobles, even with their attention focused on their training and not him. The only Noble faery he’d spent extended time with in the past had a subtler presence, somewhat like Lonan, Deirdre’s father.
But being with the rest of this lot is about as comfortable as mingling with wolves. Or sharks, Cai thought as he watched the soldiers spar. Casually a few of them summoned magic to create churning storm clouds above them that grew dark with a peal of thunder, the wind turning cold.
But at one shout from Nikias, a faery cleared the storm clouds before they grew out of control, then resumed combat. Nikias strode along the vast, rocky, open fields of the grounds, examining the others with a sharp eye.
He’s no slouch. I’ll give him that.
“Cai!” Iain appeared out of the woods, flushed from running and from the cold air. “All right then? What’s this all about, you and… Nikias asking me here?”
With a grunt, Cai said, “He dared me to make use of the training grounds.”
“So, of course we must.”
“Of course.”
They headed into the field, but the moment they entered, the earth quaked beneath them, shaken by two faeries halfway across the field as they summoned stalagmites. Nikias shouted a quick warning at them. They continued, but the ground immediately stopped shaking.
Iain whistled, then asked, “I’m all for showing we humans can handle things. But is this really…?”
“Safe?” Cai gestured to the field and trees and faeries around them. “Nothing in this place is safe.”
“Actually, I was wondering if it was really a good idea. But since Lonan is certain I can’t handle it, I’m all for it.”
“Lonan, hm? He seems to have taken a shine to you.”
Iain scratched the back of his head, glancing the way he’d come. “He’s not much like Deirdre, is he?”
“Forget about Deirdre for now.” Cai tapped on the pommel of his sword. “I was going to let you take a shot at using a blade this morning—it’ll be a lot less clumsy than that ax of yours. But I don’t want you accidentally chopping your arm off because you’re too busy daydreaming.”
“As if that blade is any less clumsy than a peasant’s weapon.” Nikias strode toward them wit
h a smug smile on his face. “To think you dared to come here. I would make some jest about you possibly being brave or stupid, but I sense you have both heard those jokes before. Many times.”
“He’s not wrong,” Iain muttered, shrugging.
“I think we dare because you’ve got all of them”—Cai pointed to the sparring faeries—“on a pretty tight leash.”
“We cannot allow any damage to be done to the realm during mere combat practice.”
“So if the ground won’t be blown up under our feet, I think we’ll manage. Thank you for your concern.” Cai turned to Iain, unsheathing his sword, asking, “You ever even held one of these before?”
Iain, who had been watching the exchange in amused silence, shook his head. “Not a real one, no.” Looking at the blade, his eyes widened. “This is the one you used when you were a knight, yeah?”
“As if that is of any consequence,” Nikias muttered, beginning to turn away.
“Oh, it changes things,” Cai said, grinning at the faery. “This sword was felling Unseelie giants probably when you were a wee lad, running around with a wooden stick.”
“Felling a couple of giants is no great feat, Sir Cai.” Nikias puffed out his chest. “I have battled and emerged victorious with everything from Fachans to the Frost Giants of the far north.”
“Sure, it’d be easy with an army lot helping you.”
“I have slain plenty of beasts on my own. My first kill, centuries ago, was a vicious Cait Sidhe, off the west coast of Ireland.”
“Done in five myself,” Cai said, examining his fingernails.
“And how many of those creatures did you kill after you were cursed?” The faery sneered. “’Tis easy to face death if you know you cannot truly die. Did you purchase this fate yourself, or is your luck that dreadful?”
I probably shouldn’t punch him in the face, Cai reasoned with himself. But… I don’t have to let that go either.
“If you’re threatened by our presence”—Cai ignored Nikias’s mocking “Ha!” and continued—“and won’t let us train in peace, then come on. I’m willing to prove we have a right to be here and train with you lot.” Holding his sword at the ready, he nodded to the faery. “Unless you’re scared? No shame in that.”
“Your taunting is pitiful, and I have absolutely nothing to prove by fighting you.”
But he won’t leave us alone, and he’ll keep looking down at us—that has more cons than pros, especially since he’ll probably be on that hunt with Iain. I can’t have this git seeing Iain like dirt beneath his feet. This is a low blow, but…
“Very well.” Cai shrugged, lowering his blade. “Still, it would be worthwhile for Iain to see what human-to-faery combat is like.” He glanced at Iain, who crossed his arms, clearly a bit unsure about this whole affair. “I’ll ask another faery to spar. Maybe…” Cai snapped his fingers, smiling at Nikias. “Maybe the prince.”
Nikias froze, like a bear that has spotted a challenger at the edge of its territory. “And what makes you think that would happen?”
Cai shrugged innocently. “He seemed like a friendly chap and somewhat interested in humans. I’d think he’d like the chance to spar with an old knight, wouldn’t you say?” Gesturing for Iain to follow, Cai turned away. “Let’s go find him, see what he thinks—”
“I accept your challenge.” Nikias’s voice was hard as he unsheathed the training short sword at his hip.
“You honor me.” Cai did a small mock bow before holding his sword up again. “Though you might want a different blade. That one looks pretty flimsy, don’t you think?”
As a reply, Nikias lunged forward, aiming straight for Cai’s left shoulder. The knight parried it, then sliced at the faery’s forward leg. Nikias lowered his sword to block, and a very satisfying expression of shock appeared as Cai’s sword sliced his neatly in two.
“What—?” Nikias stepped back a few paces, then roughly repaired the sword with Fire and Water magic, welding it back together. “Is your sword enchanted?”
Shrugging again, Cai lunged forward and, after a few parries, cut clean through a new blade, even as Nikias hardened it with magic.
“What are you playing at?” Nikias hissed, using Wind Magic to grab a true faery blade from a nearby weapons rack. The other faeries around slackened their training and watched out of the corners of their eyes.
“It’s old magic, older than you or me. Ready for real this time?”
Cai could not remember the last time he had this much fun in a fight. Despite all his bluster and attitude, Nikias was excellent at sparring. The faery held off from using magic, and Cai held back from using any “dirty tricks,” as the other knights used to call them. Though he couldn’t resist talking.
“Your thrust is a bit slow, isn’t it?” Cai asked. “Maybe that’s why you’ve only killed one Cait Sidhe. They’re devilishly fast.”
“And you favor your right side, don’t you?” Nikias returned, winded from bantering but smirking. “Is it age? Or that curse?”
“If only you had an excuse for such sloppy footwork. When you have to take a step back, it’s like an elephant doing it. A blind elephant.”
“Oh, you know what an elephant is? Given how you spoke earlier and your stiff attacks, I assumed you grew up with dinosaurs for pets.”
As this went on, Cai’s body—especially his side—told him it was near time to quit. But as he began to slow down, Nikias stopped attacking and slowly turned his head to look behind him, where his soldiers had all been gawking for the past few minutes.
“Back to work!” he snapped, and they immediately complied.
“Call it a draw for now?” Cai asked.
“For now.” Nikias nodded at them. “You don’t quite have one foot in the grave, I suppose. But—” He gestured to Cai’s sword. “I will find out the story behind that.”
“And here I was starting to think faeries were a little well-informed.” Cai sighed, shaking his head. “Knights had all sorts of special talents. I can hold my breath for nine days straight. That bastard Mordred did spot-on imitations of his witch mother, sometimes on purpose.”
Nikias chuckled. “How would you like to demonstrate your lung capacity for all to admire?”
“Ah, I can’t.” Cai purposely coughed, pounding his chest. “Like you said, I’m old. Weak lungs.”
* * *
“Can you really hold your breath for nine days?” Iain asked, grinning. He widened his stance in the dirt, holding one of the faery swords aloft over his head. Cai had been teaching him drills since Nikias left.
The knight held his own sword out in front of him, facing Iain. “Your grip is too tight on the hilt,” he said. “If you want to solidly strike the head of your enemy, that’s fine. But if you want to change direction, you’ll need a looser grip. You can still block a strike like that.”
Focusing, Iain loosened his hold so the hilt near the cross guard was resting in the space between his thumb and fingers; his other hand was holding near the pommel. He swung the sword down with a twist, changing positions to hold the sword in front of him, blocking Cai’s slow and patient left gut strike with a metallic shing.
“That wasn’t… incredibly awful,” Cai commented with a grunt.
“I’ll take it,” Iain said. “Maybe I’ll be as ready as I can be for the Wild Hunt. But the Iron Guard and an army of Unseelie monsters will be here who knows when. I don’t know if I’ll be ready in time.”
“So you don’t want to practice? Is that what you’re saying? If you’re trying to slack off—”
“Cai,” Iain said firmly, “that’s not what I’m saying.” Glancing at all the faeries training around him, at Nikias making his rounds, Iain’s mouth was suddenly dry. “I’ll practice every spare minute I have with a blade, if you’ll teach me. But I don’t know how I’ll ever be ready for war.”
Glancing at the ground, Cai scratched at his beard with one hand. “No… there is no preparing for it.”
Lowering his sword,
Iain looked up, determined. “I have no problem fighting the Unseelies. I would proudly slay those monsters until I die. But they had to involve the Iron Guard, humans, in their ancient war with the Seelies. How do I fight them?”
He had tried, with what little means he had, to sway the Iron Guard—to alert General Windsor to the truth. When that did not work, he had tried to sway the Summer king and queen, only to now have to face a nearly impossible challenge to do so. Now the war he and Philip had been trying to prevent was coming for them.
The Iron Guard doesn’t even know whose war they’re really fighting. They think they’re avenging King Eadred’s death, that they’re preventing another Cataclysm… in reality, they’re fighting the Unseelies’ war for them.
“Listen, Iain.” Cai set his sword aside for the moment. “Every soldier fights for a reason. Sometimes, like with sour-faced Nikias over there, it’s for glory and honor. Sometimes we go to battle for king and country, for freedom, or for the safety of our family.
“I know you’re not here for glory or accolades, so you shouldn’t expect to look forward to war. But you need to hold on to those reasons why you’re fighting. That is what will get you through, even when you’re facing an enemy you wish you didn’t have to face.
“But it sounds to me you’re wanting to warn the Iron Guard of what your father’s done, of the threat. Is that what you’re thinking of? You think your place is there?”
“My place?” Iain frowned, thinking. “I want to try to stop this conflict. Beyond that… I’m not sure where my place is. It’s with James and Mum and Deirdre, yeah?”
“Some of those things are pretty separate right now.”
They raised their blades again, preparing for more drills. The ground shook, and Cai stumbled out of the way as faeries summoned more Earth Magic. Before Iain could react, a pillar of rock shot up from the earth, impacting with his shoulder as it went past him.