“Kiss these.” The soft look in her eyes was gone. Way gone. “Better yet, eat them all at once. I hope you fall asleep for a year.”
Hope turned on her heel and stormed off.
She pushed me.
My power surged into my hands.
She threw things at me.
The blue glow flared, almost as voluminous as the power of Mrs. Fergus.
She insulted me.
With no conscious thought, the blue ignited and turned to orange flame.
Chapter Twenty-Three: Palisade
I got my feet under me and stood. If I touched the ground with my hands, the whole meadow could go up in fire and after that, the whole forest. Part of me wanted to burn something.
Someone.
I heard myself growl, “Where did she go?”
Stop.
“She can’t treat me like this.” I scanned the meadow and saw tents and tables and horses and people. All the wrong people. Not who I was looking for.
Get a hold of yourself.
“I saved her from being a slave.” The snarling voice—my voice—sounded foreign to my ears.
The other voice was calm. Quiet. Insistent.
She’s a woman you care for.
“She needs to burn.”
She needs you.
I shook my head. Rattled my brain, trying to clear it. Tried to listen to the quieter voice because the quieter voice was more recognizable than the voice of rage and fire.
Breathe.
I listened. And breathed. The anger ebbed.
Stop.
The flames at my hands subsided.
What’s happening to me?
I’m not like this.
My senses returned. I put my hands against my temples, squeezing pressure into my head to ease the pressure in my chest. A few people had noticed my outburst and stared. I rubbed my face with my hands and inhaled fresh country air, slightly chewable.
Of course they stared.
I’d stare if I’d seen a prince lose his cool in the most literal and visual way.
I smiled a weak smile. Gathering my herbs-on-a-stick, I looked for Hope. Not to go after her, but because I prayed she hadn’t seen me enveloped in anger and flame. Would she be afraid of me? I didn’t see her from where I stood and couldn’t find her on my way back to the horses. Peachfuzz stood where I’d left her but Hope’s white mare was gone.
More travelers joined our company as we left camp. There were more knights in armor but most of them wore riding clothes like mine.
I plucked one of the pain-prevention leaves from Mrs. Fergus and ate it. It was tough to chew and bitter, which matched my mood. It took half a mile for me to get the leaf soft enough to swallow but the cooling effect was instantaneous, like driving on a soft air-conditioned seat in a luxury car. I sat straight, held the reins gently, and finally felt at ease.
A flash of gold and silver caught my eye. Hope rode at the front of the party next to Sir Siorradh. I wished the leaf could make me numb in other places.
“A moment, your highness?”
Wince rode beside me, looking officious. I’d almost forgotten he’d come along for the ride. “Hello, Bromach.”
“You promised there would be nothing to taint the reputation of the throne, but I’m concerned about that young woman.”
This should be fun. “What’s wrong with her now?”
Wince screwed his face in a mask of worry, making a good pretense of treading lightly. “Companions for a prince must be carefully chosen and their public behavior must represent the best face of the royal family.”
“And Hope doesn’t represent the best face?”
“I fear not, highness. She dresses inappropriately.”
“She wore breeches because she’s always ridden astride.”
“She does not listen to counsel. She should have dressed in a riding skirt, and she should have waited for a contractual agreement before kissing the heir apparent.”
Contractual agreements are not Hope’s thing.
“Bromach, how did you . . .?”
“She could serve as thy concubine, if thou wishest.”
I hate being interrupted.
“But it would be ill-advised.”
“Ill-advised?”
“For all the reasons I’ve just enumerated, highness. And,” Wince inhaled as if it pained him to say the words. “Because she’s mortal.”
What is that? The ugly specter of prejudice?
“And why can I not have a friend who’s mortal?”
“It is a practical issue, highness. With Fáidh Bean, a Halfling, thou hast a chance to bring an Eternal child into the royal line or at least another Halfling. Either would be cause for celebration.”
“What happens between a Halfling and a mortal?”
“Let me simply state there’s no such thing as a Quarterling.”
“Why not?”
“A mortal mate can contribute no Fae genes at all to the child. She has only mortal genes. Thine are the genes that determine whether the child will have Fae magic or not. As a Halfling, it’s only half the time. Such a child will only be twenty-five percent Fae and we’ve found that this mixture of genes is never viable. Sadly, Halflings and mortals have children who are either mortal or dead.”
The reins in my hands were suddenly very interesting.
“I tell thee only for thy benefit, highness.”
“And the benefit of the throne?”
“Always.”
Wince meant well. Couldn’t fault a guy for meaning well
“One thing more, highness,” Wince said.
“Sure.”
“If thou wilt forgive my saying so, it makes the populace uneasy when their future king loses his temper.”
Well crap.
I repeated in my head Wince was just doing his job. My father hadn’t appointed him for his scintillating personality or his social acumen. But he had a backbone when duty called.
“I’ll keep your secrets and you keep mine?” I asked. “It won’t happen again.”
“Very well.” Wince gave me a nod and set his horse to trot ahead, leaving me to my thoughts and promises. Promises I wasn’t entirely sure I could keep.
* * *
We rode another eight hours. Being under the influence helped a lot. The effects of Mrs. Fergus’s leaf made the ride feel less drawn out and I could better drink in the scenery along the way. Clusters of lilies bore fragrant white blooms the size of my head, and beech trees over seven-hundred feet tall made me feel like a miniature man on a toy horse. Beautiful.
On the occasions when Hope strayed into view, I avoided watching her and perused more landscapes instead. Sweet-smelling hibiscus, hydrangeas the size of basketballs, and foxgloves with blossoms big enough to hang in a church steeple and ring for vespers. Finally, there was a break in the trees to my right and a ragged range of mountains rose like shark’s teeth, a mile high, the tips painted red. To my left, the sun had nearly set. Merely a smear of crimson draining off the horizon.
“See the light, Peachfuzz?” I pointed at the mountains.
Peachfuzz didn’t look up from her plodding. Maybe I could entice her if I kept trying.
“It almost looks like blood evaporating from the tips of those peaks.”
I got a twitch of equine ears.
“Guess we appreciate different things, don’t we.” I said. “I’ll never have the pleasure of chewing through a bale of hay at the end of a long road.”
As the last of the light bled into dusk, our destination came into view. As if on cue, round lights ignited with a silent glow, one-by-one, first at the gate and then high overhead on top of the walls.
“Welcome to the Palisade, highness.” Sir Siorradh waited at the gate, standing outside with Trident’s reins in hand.
“Good to be here, dude,” I replied. I dismounted and found the process to be much easier this time.
The Palisade was a Fae Jurassic Park. A double gate swung open and a monstrous beast
reared up in front of me. I half-expected to see Professor Hammond or Dr. Grant.
This beast had a long face like a draft horse but its ears hung past its chin and it stood twice as tall as an elephant. Like a hairy wall on stumpy legs, and without a long tail for balance, the creature was too bulky and tall to rear up far. The Mama always had three or four dogs around at a given time, all mutts like us boys. The dogs were all overfed on table scraps and all eventually too rotund to raise themselves on their hind legs for more than a moment. A collection of boxy things seemed to be growing on the giant creature’s flanks but they turned out to be crates and trunks. Longer boxes had been secured on its back with a dozen or so smaller ones strapped to either side.
“They’re called Asaliompair,” Sir Siorradh pointed across the grounds where another of the animals was being led toward an over-sized barn. “Admirable, aren’t they?”
“Very impressive.” The creature in front of me seemed to be agitated and made sounds like a low-rumbling boiler. Several stable hands ran up with a manger, like a bathtub on wheels, full of apples. The big lug wasn’t agitated, he was excited for treats. He snuffled and chomped as he scooped up shovelfuls of fruit.
“Are those crates the gifts for Máithrín?” I asked.
“Some of them.” Siorradh moved toward a smaller barn and I led Peachfuzz to keep up. “We’ll need to take our own supplies for the next leg of the journey. This is the last outpost south of the borderlands. We have forty or so leagues to cover yet, so there’s food and essentials for us and the animals to get us to the Máithrín’s kingdom and back again.”
“Forty leagues without a town or a village?”
Siorradh tilted his head from side to side. “There are villages. But their water is tainted, food is scarce, and the people are diseased and dangerous.”
“Why?”
“The borderlands were the battlegrounds between the kingdoms. The Máithrín and the Alder King have managed a lasting peace, but it has not always been so. Picture thousands of people, all of them capable of magic, trying to kill each other. The terrible fallout from their foul and deadly spells infested the ground with curses physical and metaphysical.”
I tried to imagine what that might have been like. Mages throwing devastating magics across a battlefield, leaving residue that lingered, maybe for centuries. Maybe forever. Although I’d fought in Afghanistan for a year, the skirmishes I’d seen were small in scale. There’d been Improvised Explosive Devices, but when they went off, their potential for destruction ended. Far different from thousands of square miles that were still dangerous decades after the last curse had been cast. I said, “Truly no man’s land.”
“No man would want it. Except those who are tragically befouled already.”
And we were going through that place in the morning.
Sir Siorradh laughed. He must have seen my concern. “Fear not, dude. The road has been purified and we’ll not stray from it.”
“I’m not worried about me,” I replied. “I’m worried about Peachfuzz.”
A melodious voice descended over me. Fáidh’s. “Help me out with my horse, cowboy?”
There was an exquisite gray mare carrying an equally exquisite woman. “Certainly, ma’am,” I drawled. “I’d be happy to help y’all out. Which way did y’all come in?”
Fáidh laughed and said, “Old joke.”
I pointed at myself with my thumb. “Old cow poke.”
She let the reins fall to the side of her mount’s neck and held out her hands. I stepped next to her horse as she slid down the side. Her hands landed on my shoulders and I caught her waist. She touched ground lightly and we embraced.
Siorradh nodded to Fáidh and then left us alone. I gave Fáidh another hug.
A woman who isn’t mad at me. Yet. The night was young.
Her hair smelled lightly of flowers, as if she’d collected the sweetest blossoms along the road and crushed the petals into her locks. She wore it in a braid that fell over her shoulder.
I said, “Even your hair rides sidesaddle.” I ran my hand over the beautifully-crafted leather she’d been sitting in, configured so that both legs were positioned on the horse’s left side. “Can you gallop in this thing?”
“Keeper made it for me, a long time ago,” she replied. “It’s enchanted. I can’t slide off until I want to.”
“I see. My saddle’s enchanted too. It’s a torture chair disguised to look like a saddle.”
“Oh, dear.” Fáidh put a gloved hand over her mouth to hide a grin. “Was it that bad?”
“The first half of the day I was miserably saddle sore but the second half was better. I had Mrs. Fergus at my service.” I pulled the sticks out of my boot to show her.
She turned the leaves to examine them. “These are a natural analgesic. She must have put a spell on them to modulate the effects and localize them to the legs and buttocks.”
Heh heh.
“May I keep one of these to study?”
“Of course, milady.”
“I see that look on your face, Got. Yes, I said ‘buttocks.’”
“Third grade was my favorite.”
Fáidh gave me a wry expression. “How’s Hope?”
Sighing before I realized it, I said, “She’s all right. We had an argument.”
“What did you do?”
“What did I do? You just assume—okay, fine.”
I explained. She listened.
“You didn’t tell Hope not to say ‘thank you?’”
“I know. I didn’t want Hope here in the first place. And then I had to learn to ride a horse so I never got a chance. It was recently pointed out to me that there are a lot of things I haven’t told her.”
Fáidh pursed her lips. “She needs to know we’re married in this realm.”
“There’s that too,” I lowered my voice. “And I think Mrs. Fergus was hinting I should tell Hope about concubines but I couldn’t. Not after Wince told me about Quarterlings.”
Fáidh crossed her arms.
“First, don’t use insulting nicknames. Second, go back to why you kissed Hope.”
“I learned from my father.”
“You learned to kiss from your father?”
I clenched my fists. “No. I mean Mrs. Fergus.”
“You learned to kiss from Mrs. Fergus?”
I could have let myself get angry except for the expression on Fáidh’s face. “It’s a good thing you’re pretty,” I said. “I wouldn’t put up with this kind of crap from an ugly woman.”
Fáidh tried not to smile.
“What I’m trying to say is that I’ve noticed my father relates to people in a way that puts them at ease. In a way that connects with them. He adapts to the situation.”
“Okay.”
“Mrs. Fergus obviously had a soft spot for romance, so I used some flowery speech and a kiss so Hope wouldn’t spend the next seventy years collecting herbs and sweeping floors for Mrs. Fergus. It worked.”
Fáidh unfolded her arms and touched my arm. “That was very smart. You saved her.”
I shrugged. “Yeah. But she wanted to know if I meant it when I kissed her.”
“Ah. Now I understand. You know those kisses of yours have the power to weaken a woman’s knees in a single round.”
“Ooo. Comic book hero quotes. And with great power comes great responsibility. I see where I went wrong.”
“Good one. In brightest day, in blackest night, no chance to smooch shall escape thy sight.”
“Wow. Green Lantern. I bow to your superior skills.”
“I learned that from you, the same thing you learned from your father. Relate to people in a way that puts them at ease.”
“Well, results today are mixed. And you’re okay with all this?”
“We’ve talked about it, Got.”
“I know.”
“And spending the next seventy years with you is better than sweeping floors for Mrs. Fergus.”
“Debatable. Anyway, she’s ma
d at me and she hasn’t known me long enough to learn I always get forgiven.”
“Well. It’s been challenging for Blake and me to have a relationship too.”
“I know it has. Is he all right? You said he needed healing?”
“It was just a burn. On his hand.”
Chapter Twenty-Four: Sleeping Arrangements
It was probably nothing. It had to be.
I often said I didn’t believe in coincidences. Doesn’t mean they don’t happen.
On the night Hope was shot in the parking lot, I’d used a thread of magical fire to burn the hand of the gunman, which had made him drop the gun. Now, Fáidh had told me she’d healed a wound on Blake’s hand. A burn wound.
“What happened?”
“He came home late. He wanted to grill some steaks and he burned his hand.”
“I’m sorry to hear it.”
Sounded reasonable. It’s dark. You’re hungry and tired. A burn can happen.
But did she see it happen?
I wouldn’t ask any questions that might upset her, but if the evidence hadn’t been stolen and that gun hadn’t disappeared . . . well, no sense getting lachrymose over leaked lactose.
We walked our horses to the barn. The Palisade was a fortress with a double wall of trees. Not just timbers. Trees. Forty square acres completely enclosed by living oaks, growing straight up for two-hundred feet before branching out. Both the inner wall and outer wall of trees grew unnaturally close together, their trunks touching. Ten feet of space separated the inner and outer walls and guards patrolled between the branches far above the ground. The only breaks in the inner wall were four sets of stairs at the corners of the enclosure to access the battlements.
Such a fortress would be impossible to create in the mortal realm. Trees just didn’t survive so near each other without magic.
I wanted to see for myself. The guards let me pass with a nod. It was cool when they bowed to my father. It was awkward when they showed deference to me.
The view was spectacular, glimpsed through the spaces between the branches. Most of the other trees had been cleared away from the land surrounding the Palisade, except for the beeches bordering the river a hundred yards below and a few scattered clumps here and there. In the distance, the rush of water was distinctive and I knew there had to be a waterfall upstream. Overhead, the stars flickered into existence, strewn across the heavens as if invisible dragons breathed them out on the wing.
Got Hope Page 21