“Well, why not? There’s you.”
Oh, how wrong he was. How desperately wrong.
“Do you not dance?” he asked, nodding back to where the musicians made magic under the stars.
“No.” She hoped she said it gruffly enough to dispel whatever thought was in his head. It didn’t work.
“I am out of practice. Perhaps if you let me show you a few steps I can regain my own confidence?”
She frowned, but there was no use in him noticing that. His hand, partly made of flesh, partly fingered in gold, had already taken her own. It was such a gentle grip, so certain and strong. Without meaning to, she stepped forward as he stepped back. His other hand came to rest at her side and he tapped her toe lightly with his own foot in indication for her to retreat as he advanced.
Perhaps to anyone looking, there would have been little grace in their halting, stumbling movements as she struggled to follow unspoken direction. But the music softly and slowly became a part of their rhythm, and the blink of the fireflies flickered in tune with their steps and the beat of their hearts. And then they were floating across the grass of the glade, perhaps by magic, though of what sort, who could say.
And when he slowed at last to a halt, twirling her free of his hand, she found that she was breathless. She, who scaled mountains and chased stags. Surely it could not be exertion, she thought, pressing a hand to the hard flutter in her chest.
He made a small, clearing noise in his throat and then dipped into a bow. When he rose, his finger was tucked underneath the coat, fiddling with something in a hidden pocket. “I had thought to give this to you later tonight, but…no reason to wait, I suppose.”
He cast about for her hand, and she gave it him. Something cool and solid was set in her palm, and she rubbed her fingers around it in question, wanting to see how he’d see it without any eyes. But her sense of touch was not that keen, and so curiosity brought it up to her eyes. There was little light, but what light could be found had all gathered to glint in this small sculpture of diamond. It was a bear. A rearing, roaring bear, perfect in detail no matter that it was hardly bigger than her thumb.
Dohmnal.
“I made it so you could remember what you did. What we did. So you could remember…us.”
I’d never forget. She cupped the carving in both hands, almost afraid it would shatter before her very eyes. Its value soared high above the gem from which it was crafted, and she would never, ever let it be lost. “I….thank you.”
It was the opportune moment. She could feel the weight of the apple in the deep pocket of her dress, and it seemed ready to rip through the fabric if she kept it hidden a moment more. All she needed to do was withdraw it and say, “I have a gift for you as well. You once mentioned you’d never tasted an apple…”
She could not. She would not. Not now. Not ever.
As thoughtlessly as she’d stolen his heart, so had he softly won hers.
She swallowed hard, determining to throw the apple from the highest mountain as soon as she had half a chance. “Thank you,” she said again, and tremblingly set her hand on his arm. “Shall we go back and join the others?”
“We shall,” he agreed with a wry smirk. “The goblins might lead us all in their cultural Dance of the Quaking Stones, and that is not an event to miss.”
11
Adoh would kill her.
As soon as he realized that she had defied him, he would hunt her down and break every bone in her body. She was not sure if there was anywhere she could run where he would not find her, but she aimed to make a run for it anyway.
When the festivities had passed and they had returned to their mountains as the sun began to rise, she had gone straight to her room with the excuse of needing to sleep away her exhaustion, but in reality, she did nothing of the sort. She set at once to preparing for her flight ahead. The goblins were gone from the house and Idris had retreated to his library, so no one disturbed her when she remerged from the room and crept to the door. A wildcat near the door lifted its head and blinked at her, but made no sound, so she slid the door open and slipped out.
And then she was running, running as fast and as far as her feet would take her. Already, her heart pounded in her chest for fear that Adoh would appear at any moment and demand an explanation.
Despite her best effort, there was a sharp thorn in her heart that hurt with every thud of fear. Idris would not understand. She had not even left him a note. There was nothing he could take from her sudden departure except insult. But it didn’t matter, she shouted to herself. It didn’t matter what he thought of her, the important part was that she be far away from him! Far away, so he would never know the truth of how dreadfully close she had come to betraying him even after all his kindness. If he knew the truth he would hate her even more, so it was better this way.
On and on she ran through the woods, sometimes slowing when the terrain became too treacherous or when her breath came too fast, but her course was clear. When she reached the nearest human village, she would buy a horse with the savings from her fur sales, and then she would flee from the country. Find somewhere that not even Adoh would dare follow her. A human city perhaps in those lands rumored to be dry and hot, as unlike these lands as could be. It would be a hard change, little more than a cage for her wild and windy spirit, but alive in a cage was better than dead in the cold.
She skidded to a halt at a cliff’s edge for just a moment and reached into the satchel at her side. Hands shaking, she withdrew the apple and threw it as far away as possible. The strength in her arm was considerable, and the small red orb faded into a little speck that vanished into the wood.
She exhaled, pressing one hand to her chest to steady her heartbeat. It was done. Idris was safe.
That was when Idris spoke inside her head. “Keeva?”
Idris stood still at the door where his guest stayed and listened for any sound of her stirring. “Keeva?” he said again, but she did not answer. So though he regretted doing so, he pushed the door open and padded to her bed, patting the mattress carefully so as not to put his hand wrong. “Keeva, I am sorry to wake you, but—” He frowned and extended his hand further. She wasn’t there. Now that he focused, he could not pick up her presence anywhere nearby.
Leaving the room, he paced out to the main chamber where she often stayed. One of his cats rubbed against his leg, purring, and he reached down to tickle its ears. “Do you know where she went off to?” he murmured.
He heard then the scrape of his front door opening and the cat quickly made a retreat. He tensed. “Keeva, is that you?”
“Sorry, Idris.” Her fair voice sounded mildly abashed and her footsteps shy and soft.
“Weren’t you sleeping?”
“Couldn’t. Last night was too thrilling.”
He smiled slightly, fiddling with the end of his scarf. “I’m glad. I know you feared going, so I wanted to thank you again for coming.”
“No, Idris, it’s—” She paused, never sounding more hesitant. “It is I who must thank you. So I went and found you a gift.”
“You shouldn’t have,” he said, stepping back in surprise. “What is it?”
He could hear her hand rustle in her coat and withdraw something smooth and small. “An apple,” she said.
“NO!” Keeva screamed hopelessly to the open sky, startling birds from the trees. “No, no, NO! Idris, stop it, stop it, it isn’t me! Idris!!!” Somehow, somehow, she thought her voice should reach him. Never mind the distance, never mind her lack of any magical skill, he had to hear her.
She could only hear his side of the conversation, but she could guess all too well who served in her stead at the other end.
Turning so hard that the ground tore beneath her boot, she sped back the way she came. But there was no way, no possible way she could arrive in time. She could only run and listen to him speak to her. Speak what could only be his final words.
“I understand you’ve never tasted one.”
H
e rubbed the apple in his fingers, feeling how slick and firm it was. The aroma of it was certainly compelling. “I haven’t,” he said.
“Then please, try a single bite.”
He hesitated as he reached up to unwrap the sash from his head. For a moment he had to remember that his bare face had already been seen, that he could not keep up the habit of hiding it in shame. So with a hard swallow, he let the cloth down and raised the apple to his lips.
He paused. “Keeva,” he said, pouring every bit of summer warmth into the word. “I trust you.” His teeth bit into the apple’s crisp flesh with a crunch.
I trust you.
The silence that followed in Keeva’s ears was akin to the dead.
12
Keeva huddled alone on the snowy floor of the woods, rocking back and forth, trying to hold in the sobs that were swelling within her. She clutched the small carving of Dohmnal in her hand, palm and fingers pressing hard enough to hurt.
He was gone and who knew where Adoh had taken him or even if he was still alive. He spoke to her no more, no matter how many times she keened his name.
Something softly stirred nearby, and she lifted her tear-stained face to see that she had attracted a small audience. A few birds flocked in the encircling trees, cocking their heads at her, and in the brush below, the beady eyes of a weasel peered out. A few rabbits wiggled their noses at her from behind a clump of grass.
She stared dumbly at them a moment as more and more animals appeared. Idris’s pets... Her cries had not gone entirely unheard. They knew his name. Indeed, she doubted that there was not a creature on the mountain who didn’t know him.
“Please,” she whispered. “Can you help me? For his sake?” The words sounded so foolish the moment they slipped from her mouth that she bit her tongue immediately after.
But then something much larger stepped out of the shadow of the wood and she found herself staring up into at the magnificent visage of a stag. He was an ancient, beautiful creature, and she could not help but think of the one that she’d nearly shot before meeting Idris. It lowered its mighty head and sniffed her in a deep huff, and she sat perfectly petrified. Its dark soft eye met hers and there was an intelligence in the depths of that gaze which she could not fathom.
“Do you understand me?” she murmured. “Would you take me back to the goblins? They must know what has happened.” She rose slowly to her feet, and though the stag tossed its rack it did not bolt. Tentatively, she reached out to its withers and brushed her hand down its hide. Then, before she could change her mind, before she could convince herself such an idea was stupidity, she flung herself up onto the stag’s back. It pranced in place, and she nearly slid off. But it was letting her; it was actually willing to help. “Take me back! They may know the only way to reach the King. He’s the only one who can help Idris.”
With a deep whistling bellow, the stag plunged forward, and all the little animals darted about its hooves in an effort to keep up. She clung with all her might around its neck, legs pressed tight into its sides in an effort to stay on. It was nothing like riding a horse, far more wild and graceful at once.
It plunged back up the mountain slope, closing the distance she had ventured in half the time it had taken her to make it. Even so, it felt far too long before the top of the mountain and the doorway to Idris’s home came in sight.
All seven goblins were already gathered on the slope outside, grunting and growling, and they were not the only ones. She recognized the Seelie King and his Loresman even at a distance, and her heart plummeted. If only they would give her a chance to explain before killing her…
The goblins saw her coming first and pointed in great excitement. She supposed she made quite an entrance surrounded by the woodland creatures and hoped they earned her a chance to speak.
The stag slowed alongside the king, and he looked up at Keeva with both distrust and hope. “Where is my son?”
“Your Majesty,” she swallowed hard, not yet willing to dismount from the stag. “I believe Adoh has broken the locks of his life and taken him away from here.”
“I know, I felt it,” he said angrily, and she flinched at the heat in his eyes. He reached up and dragged her off the stag with one sweep of his arm. She completely lost all height advantage and had to crane her neck to look at him. “What I want to know is how you know of Adoh and the enchantment.”
“D-don’t kill me,” she stammered, looking to the goblins for help. They looked worried for her, but also suspicious. She’d be on her own. She stiffened her spine and met the king’s gaze square on. “I am Adoh’s changeling child. I have obeyed his commands all my life until now. Your son was kind to me, and I could not betray him in the end. I ran. But it seems that Adoh has broken the last lock on his own.”
The goblins murmured, whether in anger or disappointment, she could hardly tell. Probably both. As for the king, she could not read his gaze. “I have come back to help if I can,” she said. “Do you think I would have come here, knowing you could kill me, if I did not want to reverse my sin? Idris cannot die because of me. We have to find him as soon as possible.”
The Loresman stepped to the king’s side, tilting his head and narrowing his intense eyes at her. “She speaks with sincerity, Deorsa.”
“I know,” the king growled. He let her go with a snap of his hand, and she stumbled back. “Do you know where he is? The Loresman and I have already looked for him, but his spirit is hidden from us, shrouded in shadow. If you are familiar with Adoh’s realm, where would you suggest we look?”
She reeled for an answer, thinking of an endless number of places. There was every matter of dark prison in the Unseelie Court…it was too vast an expanse to search.
When she failed to answer in anything beyond a stammer, he spoke again. “Answer this, mortal. How did Adoh learn of the correct keys to break the enchantment?”
“I don’t know.” She clenched her teeth. “He only told me what they were, not how he got them.”
The king paced back and forth, a lion savage for a kill. “Only the Loresman and I knew what locked the enchantment!” He paused then, and the anger upon his face flared then refocused into something sharp and deadly. He wheeled upon the Loresman.
The fey had already fallen to his knees, hands up to stall his sovereign’s wrath. “My King!” he cried. “I have not betrayed you! But…” His throat bobbed, and misery was in his eyes. “But I have failed you. There….there was one other who knew of the enchantment’s secrets.”
“How is this possible if not by betrayal?” Deorsa growled in a low rumble of thunder.
The Loresman looked so sick Keeva almost would have felt sorry for him if she wasn’t waiting for the answer with the same angry expectation.
“It is not I who created the enchantment,” the Loresman whispered. “When you asked for it, I studied and searched, but there was nothing I could create on my own to prevent death. So I went looking for another more powerful…I went to Loch Mor.”
Deorsa paled.
“What does that mean?” Keeva demanded. In all her time in the dark court and under Adoh’s tutelage, she’d never heard the name.
“Loch Mor, the realm of Fuath……Lord of the Dead.”
∞∞∞
Night forever hung over Loch Mor. Its thick waters reflected black, and even if stars did sometimes dare to peep from behind the brooding clouds, their light never once winked upon the surface of the lake.
The shrubbery on the shore of the loch suddenly moved with a rapid wind, and the air cut open. A pale figure in white was thrown through the tear, and after it stepped a dark figure. The portal closed immediately afterwards.
The eerie amity of the loch’s eternal night was broken by the cackling laughter of Adoh. He loomed above the body of the fallen prince, throwing his head back to the sky in unbound glee. “So simple! So simple a plan, so simple a fool!” He kicked Idris hard.
The prince rolled away and rose up onto his hands and knees, spitting the r
emnants of the apple from his mouth.
“It’s too late,” Adoh sneered. “It’s already been done. You feel it, do you not? The precious locks on your life are undone, and you are just as vulnerable as the rest of us!”
“I feel it, Adoh,” he said bitterly. “It would seem you’ll finally have your way.” He slowly rose up, leaning back onto his heels. “I am almost surprised you persisted this long. But it was low, even for you, to bring Keeva into it.”
“Keeva.” Adoh chuckled, pacing back and forth before him. “Ah yes, Keeva. You think her an innocent bystander in this, don’t you? You think I merely took her guise to trick you?”
The prince said nothing.
“No, no, no.” Adoh paused for a moment, swooping so low to him that Idris veered slightly back. “In fact, Keeva has been mine all along. She was the one who unlocked your first protections! She came up that mountain hunting for you, not that bear! Fah, she was mine from the start!”
And still the prince said nothing, but Adoh was lost in the revel of his triumph and railed on.
“You naïve boy! Even after me, you learned nothing. I thought the girl might win your friendship, but she took something else from you, didn’t she? So then, how does it feel to have your heart broken?”
Idris laughed.
The world surrounding them exhaled. Even the wind stopped stirring the trees, even the water stilled. Adoh paused mid-step and slowly turned to face his enemy. An enemy who, in his greatest moment of peril, was laughing.
Idris raised his chin, the shadow of his laugh still cast across the air. “Do not take me for a fool, Adoh,” he said. “I knew she served you from the moment I felt iron on my brow.”
For a long awful moment, Adoh stared. A sharp hiss inhaled between his clenched teeth. “You lie. Why….would you have not killed her? Sent her away? If you knew she meant to betray you, why pretend otherwise?”
“Because when she spoke of the Unseelie man who stole her as a baby, she spoke with fear,” Idris replied. “She was trapped, and I pity any who suffer under your hand. So I wanted her to know instead what trust felt like. Friendship. Loyalty.”
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