Giant's Daughter

by Jennifer Allis Provost

  “It surely was.” I glanced at Angus. “The rest of you always knew?”

  “When you were born with those eyes,” Angus jerked his chin toward my face, indicating my iridescent gray eyes that were a perfect match to Maelgwyn’s, “we had our suspicions. When Da stomped off to the Summer Court and beat its king half to death, we were rather certain.”

  “I bet you were. The rest are all Da’s, then?”

  “As far as I’m aware, yes.” He scooped up a handful of pebbles and flung them down the mountainside, one after the other. “Why are you asking such questions? Looking for more relations to rescue?”

  “I’m looking to understand myself,” I snapped. “While I adore the stinking lot of you, I am starting to wonder if bringing you out of imprisonment earlier than planned was the best idea. What were you all thinking, drinking yourselves silly and singing to Mum?”

  “We weren’t thinking much, that’s for certain. Did you have to set the gallowglass on us?”

  “You’re lucky Robert’s all I sent after you. From now on if you get any brilliant ieas, run them past me first.”

  “I suppose we could, but you forget that our worst ideas come from Da himself. For instance, yesterday’s concert was all his notion, as it was when Da tried to take over the Seelie Court and all of us daft fools went along with it.” Angus flung the next few pebbles with a bit more force. “Still can’t believe we did that. Strength in numbers we had, but what we were sorely missing was strength in brains.”

  I laughed. “What even gave Da the notion to try such a thing? He must have known that awful plan was doomed from the outset. Really, not one of you tried to talk some sense into him?”

  “Now sister, you ken well we have little sense between us,” Angus replied. “Da got it in his head that Fionnlagh’s crown—the antlered deal he hauls out for special occasions—was the focus of his power. Our plan, lame though it was, was to steal it and thus take that power for ourselves.”

  “Da really thought that by plunking Fionnlagh’s crown on his head he would suddenly rule the whole of the Seelie?” I gave my brother a look. “You’re right. The lot of you are daft.”

  “Hey now, there are plenty of instances of magical objects lending power. The countryside is littered with holy relics that bestow all sorts of fortune on those lucky enough to find them.”

  Angus had a point. If one was lucky enough to stumble on a holy relic—a real one, not just a bit of bone someone claimed was a saint’s remains—true power was at their fingertips. The crown in question, however, was not such an object.

  “Despite your careful research—by which I mean your total lack of research whatsoever—I can say with certainty that the crown is not at all magical,” I said. “Maelgwyn retrieved it after we sent Fionnlagh into ice, and it’s been sitting in his library ever since. It’s nothing more than rather homely family heirloom.”

  Angus grunted. “Be that as it may, the Seelie power flows from somewhere. If we’d had more time at the court we would have found the source of it.”

  “What do you mean, the source? Are you saying that Fionnlagh’s power isn’t his own?”

  “Think on it. Maelgwyn, back when he was still Udane, was the Summer King, as was his father before him. All the power goes to the firstborn in that family, with nothing left over for the rest. Fionnlagh was a lesser son and so powerless he was unable to conjure up a fart at a feast, then Maelgwyn goes down and Fionnlagh suddenly has his own court?” Angus shook his head. “Makes no sense. Fionnlagh couldn’t have gotten the power from Maelgwyn, because Maelgwyn still has his power. Therefore, how did he become the Seelie King?”

  “I... I have no idea.” I thought about the Seelie Court, and the many tales of Fionnlagh’s vast strength, both physical and magical. I’d seen that strength demonstrated with my own eyes, more than once. “If what you say is true—”

  “Which it is.”

  “Fionnlagh owes someone a great debt for all of that power.” I met Angus’s gaze. “Someone, or something.”

  Angus nodded sagely. “That is exactly what we wanted to find out, and maybe nick a bit of it for ourselves.”

  “Gods below. What in the world have you done with all that power? Don’t answer that,” I added when Angus opened his mouth. Some questions were better left unanswered.

  “More importantly, where would Fionnlagh have gotten that kind of power? And since he didn’t have any wealth or influence until after he was Seelie, how did he pay for it?” I stood and dusted off my jeans. “Fancy a quick trip to the Seelie Court?”

  “What for?” Angus asked.

  “I’d like to have a look around.”

  Chapter Ten

  Chris

  RINA SENT ME FROM THE flat’s living room directly to the Winter Palace’s empty dining hall. The breakfast dishes and table linens had been cleared away, and someone, probably Sarmi, has polished the long table until it shone. Knowing Sarmi’s meticulous standards every surface in this hall was clean enough to eat off of, including the floor. Bing that the hall was empty, these freshly scrubbed surfaces gleamed for my eyes alone.

  I’d expected Anya’s brothers to be having a late breakfast of their own, but they were either still asleep or otherwise indisposed. How long did it take for a giant to sleep off a hangover? They’d been out for at least ten hours, maybe more. Apparently, increased size did not equal increased alcohol tolerance.

  A tremor rocked the palace. I grabbed onto the table, and wished I could call Rina. She would know if northern Scotland known for earthquakes. Then again, the Winter Palace didn’t exist strictly in the mortal realm. For all I knew this area was prone to earthquakes, volcanoes, and the occasional monsoon.

  The aquila quivered in my chest pocket a bit faster than before, and I got the sinking feeling that whatever this shaking was, it was not a natural disaster. Shit, the brothers must be awake. What were they up to now?

  I burst out of the dining hall and ran toward the ballroom where the Ninth Legion usually hung out during the day. A barracks had been constructed at the rear of the hall, and thanks to a healthy dose of Anya’s magic they’d created their own Roman outpost inside the Winter Palace. I rode out another aftershock as I saw Lucius striding toward me.

  “Is this you?” I asked, holding up the miniature standard. It had gone from quivering to buzzing, and was almost too hot to hold on to.

  “Forgive me, but I had no other way to contact you.”

  “It’s fine. Do you know what’s causing these tremors?”

  Lucius frowned. “These are no tremors. Come with me, if you will.”

  I followed Lucius through the palace and to the throne room. In the center of the room, in front of the grand double staircase and directly below a chandelier made of ice so clear it shone like diamonds, was the Bodach. He was sprawled out face down on the floor, one arm bent under his forehead while his other arm stretched in front of him. I noted his clenched fist, and the cracks in the floor radiating from it.

  “Is he dead?” I asked. As if to answer, Bod raised his arm and punched the floor so hard the palace’s foundations shook.

  So that’s why everything was shaking. I would have much preferred an earthquake. Or a volcano.

  “Is Anya here?” I asked. “Or Angus?”

  “They have both left,” Lucius replied. “Shortly after they took their leave the Bodach returned. He was in quite a state, though I know not why. After he raged about the ale house and then the kitchens for a time, he entered this room and started beating the floor apart.”

  “He never said why he’s mad?”

  “He does not seem mad, so much as distraught.”

  “Huh.”

  I regarded Bod, and realized Lucius was right. Bod’s face was streaked with tears and dust, and for all the tremors he was causing he was only halfheartedly beating the floor. I had no doubt that if he wanted to he could reduce the entire palace to rubble.

  I cautiously approached the giant. “Hey, old man,
” I began. “What happened?” When he remained silent, I sat on the floor near him, but out of reach. “I can’t help if you don’t talk to me.”

  “And what help would you be offering?” he wailed. “What can you do to fix things?”

  “Nothing, if you don’t tell me what’s broken.”

  Bod raised his fist and let it fall to the floor. The entire room shook, and part of the stair railing collapsed. “Not only will she not come home with me, she won’t even see me. She won’t even talk to me.”

  “She?”

  “My wife.”

  I sighed in relief. Relationship trouble was something I could commiserate on. “Maybe Beira just needs some time.”

  “Time?” he demanded. “All we’ve had is time apart, time to think. All this blessedly endless time has done is made her remember the bad, and never the good. And I know whose fault it is.”

  “And, whose fault would that be?” I asked, desperately hoping Bod blamed himself for this situation.

  “You know who’s behind this mess!” Bod reared up on his knees with his fists clenched overhead, moving far faster than a creature of his size should be able to. “He is!”

  Bod locked his fists together and slammed them onto the floor. The shockwave sent cracks moving lightning fast across the floor in all directions and snaking up the walls. I heard a mad tinkling overhead; the chandelier was shaking like a leaf in a windstorm.

  “Bod, why are you taking your anger out on the floor?” I asked, keeping my gaze on the chandelier. “Destroying it won’t get you your wife back.”

  “But it will get me him.” Bod slammed the floor again, and I remembered who was imprisoned beneath the Winter Palace: Fionnlagh.

  Shit, I’d thought Bod meant Maelgwyn was the guilty party in Beira leaving him, but Bod blamed everything on Fionnlagh.

  Bod raised his fists again. He was ready to beat his anger out on Fionnlagh, and was prepared to destroy the palace to reach him.

  “Lucius!” I stood and withdrew the aquila.

  “Here, Dominus.” Instantly, Lucius and a dozen legionnaires in full armor were in the room.

  “We need to get Bod out of here!”

  Lucius barked a few commands, and the legionnaires surrounded Bod. He ignored them, and kept on beating the floor into smaller and smaller pieces.

  “Shields up,” Lucius ordered. The legionnaires raised their rectangular scutums. “Close in!”

  Step by step the legionnaires closed in on Bod. When their shields were less than an arm’s length from the giant, they moved as one and forced Bod first to his feet, then to back away from the hole he’d created.

  Bod roared.

  A legionnaire lost his footing on the broken floor and went down. Those on either side closed the gap.

  “You will not keep me from my quarry,” Bod yelled.

  “I can’t let you destroy Anya’s house,” I said. I helped the fallen legionnaire to his feet. “You okay?”

  “Yes,” he replied, then he shoved me aside. A moment later Bod’s meaty fist connected with the legionnaire’s breastplate. I landed on my ass as the legionnaire was flung across the room.

  Bod had tried to hit me with his full strength. Anya’s da had tried to kill me.

  The chandelier finally had enough, and crashed to the floor. I rolled out of the way, barely avoiding the scatter of razor sharp ice. When the dust cleared eight of the twelve legionnaires were down, and Bod was gone.

  “Sarmi,” I yelled. “Sarmi, we need medical attention!”

  Sarmi poked her head into the room, then disappeared. She reappeared a moment later with an army of servants in tow, each of them bearing bandages, bowls of water, and trays filled with herbs and salves, and whatever else they could find.

  Lucius offered me a hand up. “He got away.”

  “Yes he did.” I surveyed the damage Bod had caused. Worst of all were the wounded men; red stained the frozen floor, and Sarmi had already ordered the removal of three of the legionnaires to the palace infirmary. Along with the human loss the entire room was trashed; the stairs that led to the throne listed to the side, what was left of the walls sagged, and the floor looked as if it would cave in at any moment. I knew Anya could fix the structure, but what would happen to the legionnaires? How would she feel when she realized Bod was responsible for all of this destruction?

  “I’m so sorry, Lucius,” I said. “I never meant for your men to get hurt.”

  “They’re soldiers,” Lucius said. “We all understood the risks when we signed on.”

  “Still. I’m sure none of you thought you’d be facing a giant.”

  Lucius shrugged. “Rome was always beset by its share of monsters, and the creatures grew more strange the farther north we ranged. Why should our present assignment be any different?”

  “Why, indeed.”

  I followed Bod’s escape path from the throne room and through the palace. Instead of footprints his giant feet had left craters in the floor. Convenient, that. The path led me out of the throne room, up the stairs and toward the dormitories where we’d put his sons. A broken window told me Bod had jumped to freedom. I peeked through the shattered glass. There was no body on the ground below, and no sight or sound of Bod in the courtyard.

  “Crazy giant could be anywhere,” I muttered. I pushed open the dormitory’s door. All of Anya’s brothers slumbered away, with the exception of one empty bed: the one that belonged to Angus.

  “How is he involved here?” Angus was the only one of the brothers that hadn’t been drunk at the Unseelie Court, and he was conspicuously absent now. From what Anya had told me her brothers operated with one mind, and all of them did whatever Bod, or Angus, asked of them. What made Angus different than the rest?

  I eased the door shut and returned to the throne room. The wounded legionnaires had been relocated, and Sarmi’s crew was busy mopping up what was left of the floor. Lucius surveyed it all, his arms crossed over his chest.

  “He’s gone.” I mimicked Lucius’s posture, but I didn’t think anyone would mistake me for military any time soon. My affect was more of a stern lunch lady’s. “Jumped out of a second floor window.”

  “Odd for him to bother with such theatrics. The door was closer.” Lucius frowned. “Do you suspect the giant of trying to distract us from something else in play?”

  “I don’t think he was trying to distract us. If anything, he’s heartbroken.” Lucius grunted. “Ever have a broken heart?”

  “Once you enlist in the legion wives are forbidden,” he replied. “Women are a distraction like none other.”

  “What about men?”

  Lucius grunted, then looked away. “Best to avoid entanglements and focus on the job at hand.”

  “You will accomplish more than way.” I didn’t press the matter, but I was curious. Lucius had led the Ninth Legion for thousands of years. Had he really been alone that entire time?

  “Would you like me to send a search party after the Bodach?”

  “It would be a wasted effort. With the amount of destruction he leaves in his wake we’ll know where he is soon enough.” I frowned at the heaps of rubble. Anya had been so proud of how she’d rebuilt the palace, and especially this room. Bod had all but destroyed it in a few short minutes. “For better or worse, we all will.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Anya

  ANGUS AND I BLINKED from Benn na Caillich to just inside the boundary of the Seelie Court, and what a spectacle that court was. Whereas Maelgwyn’s palace sat atop a dark and dreary crag surrounded by a darker and drearier landscape, the Seelie had surrounded their home with acres of well-tended lawns and finely manicured hedgerows. Statues and water features were placed at regular intervals, lending an overall sense of serenity and grandeur to the area. If I hadn’t known better I would have thought I was on a European garden tour visiting the castles of empires long since fallen.

  The Seelie palace itself sat in the center of the gardens, and it resembled nothing so much as
a massive vanilla frosted cake. It was again the opposite of the Unseelie Court; where the former was all dark stone and tall spires, the Seelie’s home was low and squat, with white columns and decorative frills carved from fine white marble crammed onto every surface. Little did the Seelie’s subjects know that this grand and lovely exterior housed a set of murderous rulers with rot in their hearts. I considered the scene before me, and decided I much preferred the honest darkness of the Unseelie Court, and the icy clarity of the Winter Palace.

  While I ruminated on the beautiful if somewhat deceptive home of the Seelie, I was struck at how well-tended the castle and gardens were. Everything was in full bloom, and there wasn’t a stray leaf or twig in sight. Even the grass appeared to be freshly trimmed.

  “With Fionnlagh and Nicnevin gone, who is looking after the place?” I cupped a handful of lilac blossoms from a nearby shrub and inhaled deeply. They’d always been my favorite. “Lilacs! Can you believe it? In winter, no less.”

  “It’s always been like this, so perfect it’s ugly,” Angus replied. “Give me an old field strewn with boulders any day. As for the gardens, maybe one of your wight friends works here.”

  I dropped the flowers and faced my brother. “You’ve been here before.”

  “Aye. Many times. Before Da got in in his head to take over the Seelie, Ma brought us to court often. We all hated it, even Ma. No idea why we kept coming back.”

  “I wonder why.” Mum had never once brought me to the Seelie Court, and with good reason. Maelgwyn and I were so much alike anyone acquainted with him would have instantly placed me as his daughter, and thus a potential heir to the Seelie throne. If there was anything Fionnlagh hadn’t liked, it was potential heirs. Now all of that was out in the open, or at least no one was denying who had fathered whom. It also meant that my potential albeit weak upon the Seelie Court was common knowledge. I wasn’t quite sure how I felt about that.

  Add to all of that the fact that Mum never did anything unintentionally, and always thought ten steps ahead of her current situation. I wondered what plans she’d set in motion back then, and if any were still in play.