Giant's Daughter

by Jennifer Allis Provost

  “It really is warm.” I looked down, but none of the wildflowers were blooming. That was a shame, since in summertime the meadow was covered in white and yellow and pink blooms. “Do you think the increase in temperature will harm the local ecosystem?”

  “Christopher. Why do you suspect Nicnevin is here?”

  “I’ve got a few reasons, actually. First of all, we have this unseasonable weather, though the warmth is nice.”

  Anya sniffed. “A snowfall would greatly improve this meadow.”

  “A snowfall would be beautiful. Also, Rob told me that work on the house is being done well, but slowly. So slowly he couldn’t understand why such skilled craftsmen were behaving that way. Seems to me that someone doesn’t want the gallowglass and the walker moving back into their house any time soon. That, and Nicnevin hates winter.”

  “Winter hates Nicnevin as well. This extended summer could definitely point to her.” Anya kissed my temple. “Appears you’re the brainy one today. Shall we have a knock, see what she’s up to?”

  “Might as well.” As we approached the back of the cottage, I saw flashes of bright wings flitting about the garden. “Want to grab Wyatt so he can be my bodyguard?”

  “You will never let me live that down, will you?”

  “Nope.”

  We skirted the walled garden, and approached the cottage’s front entrance. Just as Rob had described, work had been done—and done well—but everything was unfinished; for instance, the front door was hung, but the trim wasn’t up. The same was true for the windows, and while the majority of the walls had been repaired they didn’t look up to keeping out a Scottish winter.

  Huh. Maybe Nicnevin keeping the area warm was her misguided attempt to help.

  We entered without knocking—I still sort of lived there, after all—and took in the common room. Drop cloths covered the floors, and plastic sheets hung over the bedroom and bathroom doors. Tools and makeshift tables were scattered about, along with boxes of tile and piles of lumber.

  “Rob wasn’t kidding about the slow work,” I said. “They were supposed to install that tile a month ago.”

  “Notice the stairs,” Anya said. They were perfect, from the polished wood bannister and spindles to the plush red carpet that lined the steps. It was a staircase fit for royalty, human or Seelie.

  I sighed, and steeled myself for yet another encounter with my least favorite person. “I would rather talk to Fionnlagh than her.”

  Anya patted my arm. “I will keep her from harassing you too much. Remember, I’m now the more powerful of the two of us.”

  That did make me feel better. I rolled my shoulders, and said, “All right, beautiful. Let’s see what the evil queen has to say for herself.”

  The heady scent of roses wafted down the stairs. “Smell that? She left us a trail.”

  Anya wrinkled her nose. “I prefer lavender.”

  “So do I.”

  We ascended the stairs, and learned that not only was the staircase complete, the upstairs hallway had also been carpeted and wallpapered. That meant that the stairs and second floor hall were the only refinished areas of the house. Interesting.

  The rose scent led us to the master bedroom. There we found the Seelie Queen lounging on an absolutely enormous bed heaped with cushions and draped in yards of gauzy silk, reading a gossip magazine.

  With a put upon sigh, Nicnevin said, “If you two are here you must need something. Desperately.”

  Chapter Twenty Three

  Anya

  THERE SHE WAS, THE Seelie Queen we’d been searching for these past months reclined in comfort on someone else’s bed. Nicnevin was wearing the sort of silken gown one would don to meet one’s lover, and the silver bedside tray was laden with wineglasses and the remains of a rich meal. It was all I could do to keep from freezing her. “Are you enjoying yourself?” I demanded.

  Nicnevin quirked a ginger brow, but otherwise didn’t move. “I was. How is your first winter faring? Seems a bit warm in my opinion.”

  I clenched my fist and willed myself to stay calm. “Elphame needs you. You must leave this... this nest of yours and reclaim the Seelie throne.”

  “Or at least reign in your creepy stepchildren,” Christopher added.

  “Have the fuath been misbehaving?” she asked. “Surely you can handle them, Christopher. You are so good at handling things.”

  Christopher’s lips flattened and he moved toward the bed with his hands poised as if to shake some sense into her. I placed my hand on his arm, halting him. “They sent us on a wild goose chase that ended up with Crom Cruach nearly killing me, and Maelgwyn, and my Da.”

  Nicnevin flicked down the corner of her magazine. “The Bodach is loose? Gods below, this is a crisis. What of those ruffian brothers of yours?”

  “Yes, they are all free.” I managed to keep my voice even. Barely. Meanwhile my fingernails dug into my palm so deeply I wondered if I’d bleed. “You don’t seem surprised to hear Crom’s name.”

  “Elphame stopped surprising me long ago.” Nicnevin raised her magazine so it obscured her face. “Regardless of what gods you’ve angered, your brothers are the ones you should be worried about, not the fuath.”

  I snatched the magazine from her hands and flung it aside. “The fuath lied to us!”

  “That’s what they do.” She calmly took another magazine from a pile on the bedside table and opened it. “They were born in pain and misery, and thus spread pain and misery wherever they go.”

  “They helped us defeat Fionnlagh,” Christopher said. “When we told them he’d imprisoned you—” He glanced around the room. “Were you ever imprisoned?”

  “I was, thank you for your concern,” she replied. “From what I’ve gathered, when you froze the mighty king his geas over me was broken. I then retreated here,” she gestured about the room, “in order to recover from that most harrowing ordeal.”

  “You seem to be recuperating well,” I said, then I paused. “The geas bound you to this realm?” She nodded. “Where were you?”

  “Tantallon Castle. It’s where Fionnlagh puts all of his inconvenient people, lovers and otherwise,” she added with a grimace.

  “I’m sure you all had much to discuss,” I said. “Now you must return to Elphame.”

  “Must?” Nicnevin put down her magazine and regarded me. “I don’t believe I must do anything, and certainly not because you wish it.”

  “Careful,” I said, frost accumulating on my palm. “I’m more powerful than you.”

  “Are you?” Nicnevin purred. “What will you do, o mighty queen? Freeze me like you froze my husband?”

  “That’s a great idea,” Christopher said. “Let’s freeze dry this one and stick her underneath the palace with Fionnlagh. Lovers reuniting is always so heartwarming.”

  “I’d rather die than spend another moment with him,” Nicnevin snapped. “Which means no, I will not return to Elphame, not for you or anyone. Or anything,” she added.

  “If you return now, you will rule alone,” I said. “The fuath, the Picts, and the full might of the Seelie Court will be yours alone.”

  “Perhaps for now, but what of when Fionnlagh returns?”

  “He is frozen. The ice won’t thaw for at least half a millennia. You will have a full five hundred years to build your power base before you need worry about him.” Nicnevin remained silent, and I finally understood the emotion in her eyes: fear. The Seelie Queen, she who bowed to no man, was scared of her husband.

  “Is five hundred years not enough?” I ventured. “I can keep him frozen for longer, if you like. It’s no bother.”

  Nicnevin glared at me as one would regard a simpleton. “Let’s strike a deal then, shall we? Prove to me that Fionnlagh is where you claim him to be, and offer me assurances that when he comes for me and everyone else he feels has wronged him, I will have your protection.”

  Christopher started to say that of course Fionnlagh remained imprisoned, but her words gave me pause. “Have you
reason to believe he escaped?”

  “I know my husband. It is only a matter of time before he frees himself, and he does have a mighty temper.” Nicnevin sighed, her gaze resting on Faith’s cradle in the corner of the room. “The reason I surrounded myself with warriors—the Picts, the fuath, and even the many gallowglasses that served me over the years—was not for power, but for protection. My protection. Fionnlagh’s ego bruises easily and often, and he’s not one to let go of a grudge.”

  “And now you’re hiding from him in the gallowglass’s home,” I said. “We can protect you. Even if I cannot hide you at the Winter Palace, we have the might of the Unseelie behind us.”

  Nicnevin laughed, a hollow rattle that I’m sure mimicked the dry husk of her soul. “Beira and I, under the same roof? That would destroy Elphame as surely as Crom would.” She sobered, and continued, “For now, I think it’s best for all involved for me to remain hidden. My enemies far outnumber my friends, and if my enemies become yours it won’t end well for any of us.”

  It was not the answer I’d hoped for, but I understood her point. “If we have no other options, we will come get you.”

  Nicnevin nodded. “So I gathered.”

  “We’re also telling Rob and Rina you’re staying here,” Christopher said. “If you’re lucky, Rina will only send you to Elphame.”

  “I look forward to weathering your sister’s wrath. I do hope she brings the child when she visits.”

  Christopher opened his mouth, no doubt to tell Nicnevin to have a care when she spoke of Faith. Instead of dealing with that shouting match, I took Christopher’s hand, and blinked back to the solarium.

  “She is the worst,” he grumbled, “but, that was enlightening. Why did you want to know where Nicnevin was held?”

  “We may need that knowledge later on.” I went to my globe, and called up an image of Tantallon. Once, it had been an imposing fortress, but human folly had ruined it centuries ago. That begged the question of why the Seelie King frequented it, and what else he’d left in the castle for safekeeping.

  “Karina has been to Tantallon, has she not?” I asked.

  “I think so, back when she first met Rob.”

  “Did she tell you about it?”

  “A bit. They almost drowned.”

  “They almost drowned inside a fortress, on land? Were the fuath present?”

  “From what I recall, there was a ghost and Rina wanted to help it, so they went to a cave beneath the castle to check things out. One of the spirits wanted to capture Rob and turn him over to Nicnevin—this was back when he still bound to her and wore that collar. Rina and Rob ended up jumping into a well and were swept out to sea.”

  “Oh.” I scrutinized the image of Tantallon, then I enlarged the image of the cave beneath. “You’re telling me that this location—a location we have confirmed Fionnlagh has used to imprison people quite frequently—has an otherworldly way below?”

  “I don’t know if it’s otherworldly.”

  “They survived, didn’t they? What are the odds of that happening without magical assistance?”

  “Pretty low, I guess. What does that mean?”

  I tapped the globe’s surface with my fingernail. “It means that we should have a look around Tantallon.”

  Chapter Twenty Four

  Chris

  ANYA TELEPORTED US not to Tantallon itself, but to a rocky finger of land a few hundred yards away that faced the castle, and the sea cliffs the fortress sat upon. Even at that distance the sight of the castle, though ruined, was awe inspiring. Tantallon was constructed from a reddish stone, and had a tower sitting at each corner with a large gatehouse in the center, but those weren’t the main defenses. That honor went to a massive curtain wall that separated the main structure from the headland, and from anyone or anything that considered invading. The other three sides of the castle were bordered by steep cliffs that dropped off to the sea. As defenses went, this place was nigh on impregnable.

  “Tantallon reminds me of the Unseelie Court,” I said, indicating the cliffs. “Maybe these are Maelgwyn’s old stomping grounds.”

  “Perhaps they are,” Anya said. “It must be lovely in summer.”

  “I can see why Fionnlagh likes to stash people here,” I said. “If the curtain wall didn’t keep others from finding you, the sea cliffs would.”

  “Or, perhaps they would force you to discover a more creative approach.”

  “How so?”

  Anya gestured toward the area below the castle. Since it was low tide we could see whole of the promontory’s cliffs and a fair amount of the beach below. “You could easily land an army at that beach. Equip the soldiers with ropes and pickaxes, send them up the cliff, and you could surprise the household as they slept.”

  I almost asked Anya how she’d come to such a conclusion, when I realized she was thinking not like the woman I met in New York, but as a queen ever ready to defend her home and people. “Is that what you’d do?”

  “Of course not. I would freeze them out.” She walked a little way down the beach for a different view. “That appears to be the cave Karina spoke of.”

  I followed her gaze, and saw the dark hollow below the castle. “I guess that’s where we go in.”

  “So it appears.” Anya took my hand, then paused. “All of this teleporting doesn’t affect you in any way?”

  “It’s a little weird, being in one place and then at a completely different location a second later, but I don’t seem to be having any side effects, bad or otherwise,” I replied. When she smiled, I asked, “Should I be having side effects?”

  She nodded. “Most mortals cannot bear teleporting often, never mind more than once a day. This unusual tolerance may be yet another trait you inherited from your mother.”

  “Maybe.” I thought for a moment. “Rob has never mentioned any side effects from Rina’s portals.”

  Anya laughed. By the time it faded she’d teleported us to mouth of the cave. “Robert is too wise to complain in Karina’s hearing, and to stubborn to complain in anyone else’s. Let’s see what the Seelie bastard’s left behind.”

  We entered the narrow opening with my super powered girlfriend leading the way; Anya may think I’m strong for a mortal, but she’s easily as strong as a giant, maybe more so. Soon enough the passage opened into a large chamber of striated orange stone. I noticed an opening in the dead center of the floor.

  “That must be the well,” I said, recalling Rina’s escape story. “It empties into a tunnel that connects to the Forth.”

  “Good to know.” Anya walked along the edge of the chamber, examining the walls. “Karina said a ghost was in residence?”

  “They were told it was the ghost of one of Fionnlagh’s past lovers, but she turned into some type of monster. Regenerating limbs, and all that.”

  Anya paused. “Who told them?”

  “There was a tour guide up top, who sent them after the ghost and then disappeared like the Cheshire Cat.”

  “Gods below. I understand Karina’s natural curiosity, but how did Robert fall for such a tale?”

  “Have you seen them together? He’s been wrapped around her finger since day one.” I looked around the chamber, which was quite well-lit for a room carved out of bare rock.

  “Where is all of this light coming from?” I asked. “It should be much darker in here.”

  “I believe it’s coming from the walls.” Anya placed her hand flat against the rock. “It’s warm. Perhaps the light is coming through them?”

  I placed my hand on the cave wall next to hers. Instead of the rock being merely warm I could feel heat flowing through it. Pulsating, as if it was alive and blood coursed through its veins. “There’s something behind the walls.”

  “What could be back there?” Anya ran her hands over the surface, then she backed up a step and regarded the wall. “It appears to be solid rock.”

  “It’s a heartbeat.” The words just tumbled out of my mouth, but as soon as I said them I
was certain. “Someone’s trapped back there.”

  “What if it’s Karina’s ghost?”

  I shook my head. “It’s not. If there’s anything Elphame’s taught me it’s what monsters feel like. This isn’t a monster. This... these are people.”

  “People,” Anya repeated, then she gasped. “I only know of one group of individuals Fionnlagh went to great pains to hide.”

  I nodded. “How do we move this rock?”

  Anya pushed up her sleeves. “Stand back.”

  I did as instructed, and watched as Anya created a ball of frost between her palms. Once she gauged it complete she flung it at the wall, then she raised her arms and the cold returned to her. Anya completed the cycle a few more times, and I realized that when she called back the frost the rock thawed, only to refreeze when she tossed it back. She threw and summoned back her enchanted snowball at the walls over and over until the rock couldn’t bear the constant freezing and thawing, and wide crack appeared.

  I ran to the crack and peered inside. “There’s light and heat back there!”

  “Grab the edges,” Anya ordered. “Peel away the surface!”

  “I can’t rip apart solid rock!”

  “It’s not rock. It’s a spell.”

  We each grabbed an edge and pulled. The rock crumpled in my hands like wrapping paper. Anya and I peeled and tore away the entire back of the cave wall, and revealed a hidden room. It looked like a movie set depicting the inside of a genie’s bottle.

  The room was circular, with a shallow bench that ran the length of the room. The bench and floor were covered with plush velvet cushions in bright jewel tones, and sheer fabric hangings further divided area into smaller rooms. Other than the bright fabrics and cushions, the room appeared to be empty.

  “Curiouser and curiouser,” I said, then something moved on the bench. I stepped closer, and saw a child lying underneath a blanket, her eyes closed. “Anya, there’s someone in here.”