I shook my head. “No real danger. We need her to be seen around the castle for a while, then the illusion can be ended and Fáidh can go and there will be no danger at all.”
My father’s gaze was piercing and his glamour made me want to blurt out the whole story. I steeled myself, thinking if he wanted to know more, he’d have to ask. Fáidh’s well-being was important to him, I knew. To the whole realm. The Fae have difficulty reproducing and my father had made it clear he wanted Fáidh and I to give him grandchildren. The fact that she already had a husband in the mortal realm complicated the issue for us. Less so for him.
After a long minute, my father turned back to the book. “I counsel you to keep this book safe and to keep our family legacy a secret. Study the patterns in this book. They will give you knowledge and understanding. You should add important ornáidíocht you encounter to the book, as best you can. I am no artist myself but—” He turned the pages. “When you received your powers, at your Quickening, you also received enhancements to your sight and your memory, didn’t you?”
“Yes.”
“These are also gifts I received and these gifts will also help you. Observe. Remember. Make record. Study. It could save your life.” He tapped the book. “Or the life of someone you love.”
“I will,” I said. I turned the pages and stopped at some notes indicating how to determine which magical talents were dominant. Erin was primarily a water mage and I’d often wondered why her Stain was green instead of blue. The book noted that a water mage could have different colors but would always have a pattern like a flowing figure eight. The book was right because Erin had that pattern in her forest-green Stain.
And my father had remembered that.
As I read, dad moved away to look out of the window. He stood beneath the figure of the fool near the ceiling. The stupid expression on the fool’s face felt like a prompting.
Here goes nothing.
“May I ask a question?” My throat went dry.
“This is a good place for questions,” he replied.
“We speak together like father and son. People call me Prince Luck. But I have not been declared a prince.”
My father put his hands behind his back and looked at me. His expression was placid, except for a small smile. “I’m not hearing a question,” he said.
Part of me wanted to know if he was ashamed of me. That wasn’t a question I wanted to ask outright because maybe I didn’t want to know the answer. “There must be a reason you haven’t declared me your son. What is it?”
He nodded. “That is an excellent question. You were not brought up in this realm. You know that difficult decisions were made to preserve your life. It was more important to make sure you would reach your maturity even if it were outside the Behindbeyond. You were raised as a mortal. You have not had the benefit of being groomed to take over the kingdom, learning how to rule. But you are alive, and that is of supreme importance.”
The Alder King stepped forward. My shoulders were higher than his head but he reached up to put his hands on me. “It has been my decision to avoid sanctioning your legitimacy to prevent a weighty burden from falling upon you. One day it can be made official. Then the people will expect you to take an active part in the administration of the realm. Some will be unhappy to have a Halfling as successor to the throne. Our enemies will ramp up their opposition against you. Against us both.”
“The Dubhcridhe would want me on the throne, I think.”
That gave the king some pause.
“You know of their return?” I asked.
“I do,” he replied, his face set in stone. “I didn’t know you knew of them.”
“What can you tell me about them?”
My father glanced at the rose over the door. “There have been many conversations in this room regarding those of the Blackened Heart. There will be others, but not today.”
Okay then.
“Right now, Goethe, you have a life in the mortal realm. You are helping people. And there are unresolved issues between you and Fáidh.”
“That’s all true.”
He turned his attention back to the view of his realm. “You will need time to learn our ways. You will need opportunities to prove yourself and those tasks we can work on now. To give you experience and accomplishments for the history books. For this purpose, I have asked you to come today.”
Straightening his broad shoulders, he was completely the commander-in-chief now. Giving orders and expecting full agreement. This was the side of my father that most people saw every day. The man who had eliminated an entire cult overnight. I doubted there were many familiar with the thoughtful and caring side of him that I’d glimpsed a minute ago.
I already missed that part of him.
“You will go to the Máithrín’s kingdom, Tír Dúchais. You are expected at sunset three days from today. The mission is diplomatic. The Máithrín and I are exchanging gifts. You will oversee the exchange and extend the good wishes of our kingdom to hers. Accept any messages and bring them back with you. Here are your papers, which you are to give to the Máithrín directly or to her designated emissary.”
A leather cylinder with a clasp sat on the table, near the box with the Book of Stains. The king picked it up and handed it to me. The clasp was tied closed with a silver ribbon and the ribbon was in turn sealed with wax. I accepted it with a small bow. It seemed like the right thing to do but the whole idea of leading an expedition set my stomach churning.
It was too much to ask.
My father gave a wry smile like he knew what I was thinking. “You will have Sir Siorradh to advise you, but you’ll be expected to act as the leader of the party. From all reports, you have the strength to stand by your convictions. That’s a good quality, but be careful. The Máithrín is powerful and dangerous. Trust her at the peril of all you hold sacred and dear.”
“I understand.” Dad has lost his mind. But how can I say no?
“Good. I look forward to your report when you return. You leave within the hour. I’ve arranged for riding clothes for you. They will look more archaic than you are accustomed to, but they will be more comfortable for riding. You have experience with horses?”
Experience? Like the rotten Shetland pony at Mark LeDoux’s tenth birthday party who hated children and scraped six layers of skin off my leg by riding down along the cinder block wall until I fell off?
“Sure,” I replied.
We went back up to my chambers. I followed my father again. More halls. More stairs. More bowing guards.
Sir Siorradh and Wince waited with riding clothes and smirks. I took the clothes as if I went riding every day and handed Siorradh the book, wrapped again in its cloth. “Is there a safe place for that?” I asked.
He accepted the book. “We have a trunk that locks for you. We’ll take it with us.”
“Great.”
“Anything interesting?” Wince asked, eyeing the book.
“Wallpaper patterns,” I replied. “I’m redecorating.”
“Oh.” Wince looked at the walls like they were closing in on him.
As advertised, the riding clothes were more Renaissance Faire than I would have liked, but I decided to own them like a boss. Max offered to help me change, like a real valet, but I declined. I’m sure he knew what he was doing, as well as any Mr. Bates. The thought of him dressing me just felt weird. I went into the next room to figure things out. A minute or three later, I strode out in my tall boots and breeches with my shirt and doublet as if the mandolin were my musical instrument of choice and I took all my meals on a trencher.
“Ooo!” Fauxpe said, no doubt admiring my masculine stride. She still wore Hope’s face.
I went with my best Bee-Gees impression. “Thou canst tell by the way I use my walk, I’m a wench’s man, no time to talk.” I struck a heroic pose and put my booted foot on the trunk Siorradh had said was mine. Fauxpe laughed in her throaty way and ran her fingers over the embroidered dragons on my doublet.
Did he interrupt us on purpose? “How kind thou art to explain,” I said.
Wince missed my sarcasm. He pointed to a chain mail shirt that would have been too big if I hadn’t been wearing the padded vest. The shirt was lighter than I thought and it slipped over my shoulders like shining silver water. I moved my arms, getting a feel for the hauberk. It restricted my reach but I’d still be able to throw a punch.
“How’s it feel?” Fauxpe asked.
“I’ll get used to it. It’s better than these breeches. I feel like I’m walking with ferrets down the legs.” The breeches had a patch that ran from below the knees, along the inner thighs, and up under my butt.
“You’ll be glad of those ferrets after a few leagues in the saddle,” Siorradh said.
I looked at Siorradh’s armor. “What about you? Do you have this padded stuff on under that tin can collection? You look like you’re wearing the entire soup aisle at the grocery store.”
Siorradh gave a shake of the helm. “I have less need of padding than most.”
“Really? How so?”
Siorradh didn’t have a chance to reply. Wince clapped his hands three times like we were children, tardy for class. “Come now. ‘Tis time to make ready at the stables.”
I gave Wince a skunk-worthy stink-eye that he didn’t notice.
Hominus odious.
“We’ll walk down with you.” Fauxpe put a hand on my arm and looked at Oz who nodded in response. Oz would accompany us to maintain the illusion of Hope’s face on Fáidh. That would let more people see our fake Hope around the castle and word would hopefully reach Vapeman. After I left the grounds, Fáidh and Oz would return to my chambers. Then Oz could end the spell. He would stay in my chambers, in part because he wanted to be alone but also to have someone eating the food that would be brought to my chambers, maintaining the deception. Fáidh would wait for an opportune moment to go back to the mortal realm. Max and Sandretta would return to the mortal realm too. They were handy in a domestic setting, but I didn’t feel they’d be up to the rigors of the road, and they could keep an eye on Hope.
With luck, whoever was spying for Vapeman would report that Hope was here and think she was sequestering herself in my chambers until I returned.
That should let Vapeman get his money from Marcus and, just maybe, get a commitment that would keep Hope safe permanently. Then we’d work on a way to take care of her dad.
Wince led the way to the stables. Bless his annoying little heart.
The stairs were narrow but the hallways were wider and Fauxpe and I found ourselves walking side-by-side. I was tempted to hold her hand. Fáidh was my wife in this realm, after all. But she had Hope’s face, and while I didn’t mind if I started a scandal, maybe it wasn’t a good idea to do so right in the castle.
I still wanted to hold her hand.
We continued down stairs and halls. Being in the castle, away from the mortal realm, made it harder to set my feelings for Erin aside. It was easier in Miami where I had things to do to distract me from wanting to be with her. Here, we belonged to each other and we were even expected to spend time together intimately.
My nose came to the rescue. The aroma of the stables greeted me before I saw them. We walked down a straight flight of steps wide enough for two carriages to drive down and stepped into a courtyard with at least twenty paddocks. Each one held a beautiful beast.
I inhaled. Deeply.
Animals and nature and the great outdoors fed my soul, and I didn’t mind the smell of a cow pie or pigs in a sty. Wince, however, winced. “Pew,” he said. “I’m sure we all want to get this over with. If everyone will come this way.” He took off across the courtyard, walking faster in his heavy robes than I thought possible.
Fauxpe must have caught me inhaling. “Are you enjoying the fresh country air?”
“Air so fresh, it’s chewable,” I replied.
She laughed and we walked close enough to touch shoulders.
Our mounts were saddled and waiting. The first in line was a huge specimen, with a massive head and rippling muscles. He eyed us as we approached, wearing blue and gold colors with saddle and stirrups trimmed in silver. Hooves trimmed in silver as well. I saw more than simple animal instinct in those eyes. He was looking at us with purpose and thinking about the small creatures before him.
He was spectacular.
I felt myself drawn to him, almost as if he had glamour, and I found myself reaching out to put a hand on his flank.
A voice rang out over my shoulder. “Take care. He’s been known to use those deadly hooves and teeth against strangers. Best leave him to his rein-holder.”
“Who’s that?”
“Me.”
The morning sun glinted off Sir Siorradh’s silver helm and I swear there was a smile on his visor. He stepped in front of the steed and took either side of the bridle in his gauntleted hands. The horse lowered his face and softly bumped Siorradh’s helm. They stood for a moment, brow to brow. Siorradh said, “Hello, my friend.”
The stallion blew a greeting through his nose and pawed the ground, sending sparks off the stones.
Siorradh said, “His name is Trident, due to the blaze of white on his forehead that splits into three points. He is the finest warhorse in the king’s stables.” There was a glow of pride in Siorradh’s voice and it was easy to understand why.
“Will you need a winch to get into the saddle?” I asked. “In the mortal realm, knights had to be lifted onto their horses.”
“I can mount on my own. My armor’s enchanted,” Siorradh replied. “To compare, the armor in the mortal realm was Iron Man’s Mark I suit. I have the Mark VI.”
I turned to Fauxpe. “Does it look like his visor is smiling to you?”
Fauxpe squinted and shook her head.
“What sturdy steed do you have for me?” I asked.
Wince pointed to a tan-and-white mare with soft eyes and muscular legs. “Here is the mount for thee. We were unsure of thine experience but she’s strong and gentle and will serve thee well.”
She was two or three hands shorter than Trident. “What’s her name then? Thunderbolt? Ironhoof?”
The stable boy answered, “Peachfuzz, milord.”
Fauxpe put her hand over her mouth but I knew there was a laugh lurking back there because her eyes were dancing. I felt a pulse of heat in my chest, which I squashed. I’d be laughing too. I was no expert rider and if this animal had been selected for me, she must be the best choice. I would own the horse like I owned my riding clothes.
Like a boss.
“Excellent,” I said. “She must be the most beautiful mare in the king’s stables.”
With all the dignity and grace I possessed, which wasn’t a lot, I got up into the saddle on the first try. Clunky but successful. The stable boy handed up the reins.
Sir Siorradh mounted his horse in one smooth motion. I expected nothing less.
We were joined by six more riders, two of whom wore armor. Siorradh explained, “These men will be our guard. We have another group in the field. I’ll introduce you when we reach them. The cargo we are delivering is bulky and the pack animals are slow. They left more than two weeks ago to reach the rendezvous point. We’ll catch up to them by nightfall.”
“The gifts I’m to give to Máithrín are at the rendezvous?”
“Correct.”
“Sounds great,” I replied. To Fauxpe I said. “Enjoy your stay, Hope. I’ll see you when I get back.”
Fauxpe gave a curtsy, which was both adorable and a tiny bit sarcastic. “Safe travels.”
“See ya, Oz.”
Oz nodded goodbye.
Max gave me a nod as well and Sandretta a farewell curtsy. “See you at home,” I said.
I didn’t notice Siorradh give Trident any prompting but the steed tossed his head and t
ook the lead.
This was it. A new journey on the open road through a beautiful land. Anticipation and excitement thrummed through me like a bass string being plucked.
Peachfuzz took all of one step when there was commotion among the guards.
“Hold! Hold!”
“Let the mortal pass!”
“Stay your arms!”
Hope walked into the courtyard.
Chapter Twenty: Questing Party, Plus One
“How did you get here?” I dismounted and gave Peachfuzz a pat on the neck.
Hope tossed her shield coin to me as she walked. I caught the coin and she said, “This needs recharging.”
“Why? What happened?”
She inhaled sharply through her nose. “It’s out of power.”
That didn’t answer either of my questions. Opening the coin, I held the silver four-leaf clover flat in my hand and called up my power. I said, “Sciath,” and pushed a thread of blue into the sigil. I felt it accept the magic. Hope was right. The shield was empty. I fed power to it until it was full. I asked, “How did it lose power?”
Hope shifted her shoulders as she crossed her arms, her hands flat along her biceps like five-legged spiders. “I used it to open the portal.”
Open the—
“—what now?”
Hope stared me down. “You told me the portal opened with magic power and you said there was magic power stored inside the coin. So, I took out the clover and held it against the silver part and said ‘Oscailte’ like you did. It worked.”
I guess it did.
“Then you came through the portal and wandered up to the castle?”
“Sure. I need you to recharge my shield now. Please.”
In that moment, I understood why Hope had shoplifted bottled water at 18 years-old. She hadn’t been thirsty. She’d been making a point. To whom or why, I didn’t know and it didn’t matter. I consciously ignored the heat in my chest as I put the sigil back inside the coin.
Hope snatched the coin out of my hand.
“I told you I wanted to come with you,” she said. “Although I’m having a hard time remembering why right now.”
Got Hope Page 18