Birthright

by E.J. Stevens

  I’d give up all the pancakes in Faerie and eat ramen for eternity if it meant returning home to my loft apartment with its threadbare couch and musty smelling wall hangings.

  “I doubt it will be that simple,” Torn said.

  “No,” I said, letting out a heavy sigh. “It never is.”

  Ceff stood rigid, and I waited as various emotions—fear, anger, frustration, uncertainty, and resignation—crossed his face. His shoulder slumped, just slightly, and I knew that I’d won the argument, for now.

  “Who will you leave in charge of your people?” he asked. “Your father is still missing, and with you gone, who will keep them safe?”

  I’d given this a lot of thought, actually. I just hoped that my plan worked.

  “I have an idea,” I said.

  “This should be good,” Torn said. “How are you going to find another wisp with royal blood on such short notice?”

  “I’m not going to,” I said with a smile. “I’m going to teach the wisp court about a little thing called democracy.”

  “Oberon save us all,” Ceff said.

  He let out a heavy sigh, but there was laughter in his eyes. He might be a king, but he knew me well enough to recognize when my mind was made up.

  Plus, we were fresh out of wisp royalty at the moment, not that my uncle had done all that good of a job leading in my uncle’s absence. Fueled by his obsessions, Kade had led by fear and manipulation, and he’d encouraged competition and paranoia within the royal guard. If it weren’t for Kade’s jealous machinations, Flavio might be alive right now.

  My hands tightened into fists, and I took a deep breath.

  “You may want to stand back,” I said.

  Ceff raised an eyebrow, and then shared a look with Torn who just shrugged, and moved a few feet away. I turned to stride up the remaining steps, and onto the dias. I stripped out of my leather jacket, tossing it onto the throne.

  I willed my wings to unfurl, and steadied myself against the buzzing that flooded into my skull. I turned to face the crowd of wisps who’d remained in the Great Hall, waiting to learn their fate. Kade was unconscious, and Flavio was dead, so they looked to me for answers—and I planned to give them that and more.

  I would give them their freedom.

  I planted my feet in a wide stance, and lifted my chin. My chest tightened, and a small part of me wondered if my father would approve of what I was about to do. Bringing democracy to the wisp court would undermine his authority, his claim to the throne. But I was done with thrones and leaders whose only qualification was the blood that ran in their veins. I wanted more for these people. They deserved to have food to eat and a safe place to live. They deserved to be free from fear, from the tyranny of men obsessed with power.

  “My father left Faerie,” I said. “For good or ill, he isn’t here. My uncle ruled over you with an iron fist and an unkind heart. I will not do the same.”

  The buzzing roared, a crescendo of thoughts and voices that threatened to overwhelm me, but I soldiered on.

  “My first order as your princess is to revoke the rights of my family, of any one family, to lead you, and to instate a new kind of governing power for our people,” I said. “I know this is a monumental change, but I have faith in all of you. We as a people are resilient. We glow in the deepest dark. We are wisps.”

  I held my hands high, tears rolling down my cheeks, as I embraced their cheers. I would only lead them for a day, this day, but I would use my limited time as their princess to bring a positive change for the future.

  Through the roaring, I turned and smiled at Skillywidden, and called him to the dias.

  “Skilly, do you want to return to Tech Duinn?” I asked, keeping my voice low.

  “No, lass,” he said, fidgeting with one of his suspenders. “I had hoped to stay ‘ere and mind the hearth.”

  “Even if I leave?” I asked.

  “Aye, even then,” he said. “I’ve made friends with the kitchen staff, and I’d be no good in the human world. I’d rather stay in Faerie, if it’s all the same to ye.”

  “I’ll miss you, Skilly,” I said. “But I was hoping you’d stay. My people need you.”

  “They do?” he asked.

  “They do,” I said. I raised my voice, my words once again carrying to the gathered wisps. “You will need to elect representatives, men and women you trust, for your new council. Meanwhile, I appoint Skillywidden to aid in decisions that need immediate attention.”

  “But, Princess, I’m not even wisp!” he said.

  “Skillywidden is henceworth known as wisp friend,” I said, keeping my voice raised. I winked at Skilly, and he blushed. “He will be an asset to your growing council, and a valuable advisor.”

  With that, I grabbed my jacket, and stepped down from the dais. Skillywidden frowned, and shuffled his feet.

  “What am I supposed to do now?” he asked.

  “Help them,” I said. “Give them advice when they need it, just as you did for me. In the twelve months that I’ve known you, Skilly, you’ve been a loyal friend. You always gave me good advice, and you have a tender heart. I know that you will help my people, because you can tell the difference between what is fair and just, and what is selfish cruelty.”

  “The boy,” he said.

  We shared a look, and I nodded.

  “You knew that saving that boy wasn’t a failure,” I said.

  “But to give me this, the ear of ye people,” he said. “It’s too much.”

  “It won’t be for long,” I said. “They’ll build a government, in time. But until then, I trust you to do what you can to make things right. And you won’t always be on your own. I’ll try to return, when and if I can.”

  “If anybody can, it be you, Princess,” he said.

  It was true. I was the daughter of the Queen of Air and Darkness. If there were backdoors to Faerie, I’d have access to them. It was just a matter of finding those portals, a job well suited for someone with P.I. training. At least, that was my hope.

  I smiled, and nodded.

  “There’s just one more thing before I go,” I said.

  “And what would that be?” he asked, eyes narrowing.

  I’d asked a lot of him all ready. I didn’t blame him for being suspicious.

  “Will you keep the hearth fire burning for me?” I asked.

  Skillywidden’s face relaxed, and he returned my smile.

  “Aye, lass,” he said. “Thought you’d ne’er ask.”

  Chapter 53

  “I will not stand for this, I am…argh!” Kade yelled, interrupted by a slap to the side of the head.

  “Are you sure we can’t kill him, Princess?” Torn asked, tilting his head in my direction, and holding an extended claw to Kade’s throat. “No one would miss him, and there’s a convenient bog right over there…”

  “No,” I said. We’d been over this, and I wasn’t backing down. “He’s a delusional creep, but he’s my family.”

  “I knew you cared for me,” Kade said, eyes gleaming. “Tell them to unhand me, and we can return to the wisp court where we can rule together…”

  “Torn, if you don’t shut him up, I will,” Ceff said.

  “You know how I like it when you talk tough, Fish Breath,” Torn said, batting his eyelashes. “But it’s my turn to guard the prisoner, and I don’t take orders from you.”

  “Oh would you all be quiet?” I asked.

  My head still ached from my little speech yesterday. Having my wings extended had been necessary for communicating with my people, during the speech and in the meetings we held after, but the subsequent headache had sent me to my quarters without dinner. I’d been too sick to eat, or enjoy the fact that Ceff had shared my bed. Now we were on our way to the ice palace, and I was tired, hungry, and fresh out of patience.

  “Like I said, Princess, if you let me kill him…” Torn said.

  I sent a fire ball whizzing past his shoulder, close enough to singe one of the pieces of bone and fur d
angling from his ear.

  “Well, that was rude,” he muttered.

  “So is killing a man,” I said. “If he starts ranting again, gag him. Until then, keep your complaining to yourself. I’d rather not attract unnecessary attention.”

  “Good point,” Ceff said. “We do not know what resides in this place.”

  The thing is, I did know. I’d spent months trudging through the muddy terrain along the edge of this bog, and flying overhead. I’d seen enough to know that we didn’t want to encounter some of the bog’s more violent denizens.

  “Come on,” I said.

  We were nearly to the boundary, where Nithsdale bordered The Forest of Torment. I wasn’t eager to enter the heart of my mother’s lands, but the longer we spent in the bog, the more likely we’d encounter a flesh eating bog fiend or a rabid pack of duergar. Of course, the forest held its own kind of trouble.

  “How do you propose we get past the trees?” Ceff asked, giving voice to our newest dilemma.

  The bog no longer sucked at our feet, trying to devour us by pulling us into its depths. Instead, the mud here was semi-frozen, moisture forming ice crystals along its surface. We were fast nearing The Forest of Torment and all of its perils, namely trees that drank the blood of Mab’s enemies.

  To venture into that forest, which formed an impenetrable boundary around her ice castle, was a fool’s errand. I guess that made me a fool.

  “Don’t worry,” I said. “I have a little something up my sleeve.”

  I meant that literally. I suspected that the best way to prove that I wasn’t an enemy was to demonstrate my family connection to Mab. Unfortunately, that would require shedding blood in a forest of bloodthirsty trees. I just hope I didn’t start a feeding frenzy.

  “You do realize chances are good that we’ll face certain death,” Torn said, eyebrow raised. He’d gagged Kade with a piece of fabric torn from my uncle’s cloak, stifling the man’s rantings. Kade was just lucky that Torn hadn’t used wisp hide, not that I would have let him. “Not that I’m complaining. I do enjoy a challenge.”

  Torn was just crazy enough to think a field trip through The Forest of Torment was fun, a thrill to break up the monotony of immortality. I shook my head, removed one of my gloves, and slid a dagger from my boot.

  “If my plan works, there won’t be any dying, not today,” I said.

  I dragged the tip of the dagger across my palm, and winced. It would have been easier to use the sharp edge of one of my throwing knives, but those blades had seen too much action, and I wasn’t prepared to lose a day while I replayed every moment of pain those blades had inflicted. I held my breath, prepared for the visions that did come, but they weren’t as bad as I’d feared. Maybe I was finally getting the hang of this faerie thing.

  “I take it there’s a reason why you just cut yourself, Princess?” Torn asked.

  I rolled my eyes. Of course there was a reason. Blood dripped from my hand, reminding me of another dagger wound I’d had not so long ago. A red cap had stabbed me, but when he licked my blood from his evil, little blade his eyes had gone wide. He’d bowed then, begging for mercy before he ran away. I hadn’t understood the red cap’s reaction then, but I understood it now. I was Mab’s daughter, a fact that some of her minions could taste on my blood.

  I hoped that the bloodthirsty trees had a distinguishing palate, or my blood might go from appetizer to the main course.

  “Yes,” I said.

  I strode to the edge of the forest, tilting my head back to gaze up at the trees that grew with their heads together like conspiring demons. A chill breeze sent whispers through the skeletal trees, their bare limbs destined to spend eternity in the torment of perpetual winter.

  I held out my fist, and turned my hand, shaking droplets of my blood onto the frost covered ground. The blood steamed in the icy air, sending up a tendril of spectral mist. I shivered, and stepped back as a root burst through the frozen ground to suckle on my meager offering.

  Now we just had to wait.

  Kade’s eyes bugged out, and a moan escaped the makeshift gag that Torn had tied around his face. What did he think, that’d I’d come here to sacrifice him to the forest? That I was sprinkling the earth with my blood to whet the trees’ appetite?

  “I’m not going to kill you uncle,” I said, dryly. “If I was willing to let you die, I’d have let Torn kill you hours ago and saved myself from your ranting.”

  I turned, and smiled at him. Apparently, it wasn’t a very reassuring smile, since he renewed his moaning and struggled against Torn’s grip on his arm. I shrugged. I was done with mourning my uncle.

  I’d cried most of the previous night, with Ceff a strong presence at my side. He didn’t try to stop me, to tell me that everything would be okay. He knew that I was grieving the loss of my uncle, of the family I’d longed for. After the tears came anger, followed by a hollow emptiness. My uncle had broken me, changed me. He’d shattered my heart, but I wouldn’t let him scatter the pieces. He’d taken enough from me.

  I was done giving him pieces of myself. It was time I started rebuilding my life, and becoming who I truly wanted to be. That person was a P.I. in Harborsmouth with a kelpie husband and some of the best friends anyone could ever hope for. Now I just needed to get home and start living that dream.

  I wrapped a bandage around my hand, slid on my glove, and waited to see if my gambit had worked. I didn’t have to wait long.

  With a terrifying combination of shrieks and groans, the frozen trees parted, leaving us a gleaming pathway.

  “Now that looks familiar,” Torn said.

  It did. The path looked the same as the path of ice that we’d seen when we first entered Faerie all those months ago.

  “Perhaps the land recognized you, even then,” Ceff said.

  “The prodigal daughter returns, so they roll out the icy path home?” I asked. “Like an Unseelie red carpet, or yellow brick road?”

  “I would expect nothing less for the daughter of the Queen of Air and Darkness,” he said.

  The daughter of the Queen of Air and Darkness—now that was going to take some getting used to. I’m pretty sure when little girls dream about being a faerie princess, they don’t picture the queen of the bogeymen as their mom. If I thought about it too hard, I’d go nuts, so I shrugged and laughed it off.

  I was an immortal, which meant there was plenty of time for rocking in a corner when this was all over—so long as we made it out of Faerie alive.

  “Well, if they’re rolling out the red carpet, who am I to deny them a princess?” I asked, forcing a smile.

  I strode onto the icy path, and into The Forest of Torment. If I did make it home, Kaye was going to have my head.

  Chapter 54

  “Do you think there’s a secret knock?” I asked. “Or a password?”

  I was going with open sesame, if I had to guess. Torn sighed, and Ceff shook his head.

  After hours of freezing our butts off while keeping a death grip on our weapons, and looking nervously over our shoulders, the creepy forest had regurgitated us at the gates of Mab’s ice palace. Out of the frying pan and into the fire, but, you know, with less heat. I lifted my chin, surveying my ancestral home. I was trying to channel royal arrogance, but if my uncle’s frantic glances were any indication, I’d accomplished more psycho than princess.

  It’s hard to look confident when your teeth are chattering.

  My mother—I’d never get used to thinking that—might be an uber powerful, malicious sadist, but she knew how to impress. Her ice palace towered over us, towers and thick walks blocking the stars so that the home of the Unseelie Court, Mab’s seat of power, seemed to encompass all of Faerie.

  It was an impression that only grew as we moved closer, trying to decide how best to enter. The gate and surrounding walls were formed of solid ice that gleamed with eldritch light, and two yetis stood guard. There’d be no forcing our way in. I guess we’d just have to ring the bell, so to speak.

  �
��Oh well,” I muttered. “Here goes nothing.”

  I held my breath as I walked past the tusked behemoths, but they didn’t so much as flinch. They were like the Faerie version of Buckingham Palace guards, looking straight ahead without a sound. Their silence was unnerving, so I quickened my pace.

  At the gate, I used my dagger to reopen the cut on my palm, careful not to flash my blade at the guards, and shook droplets of my blood onto the shimmering surface where the two doors joined together in the center. So long as my blood continued to act as a key, and Torn didn’t do anything stupid like pick a fight with the guards, we might just make it inside the ice palace in one piece.

  Whether we ever made it back out again was another story.

  I wound a scrap of cloth around my hand to staunch the bleeding, and tugged on my glove. I flexed my hand, making sure the bandage wouldn’t impede my ability to fight—if it came to that—and discreetly palmed my throwing knives. If my plan didn’t work, and whatever magic my mother had used to ward the gates of her palace had more discriminating taste than the forest, then our only chance to escape was to take out the guards, and run like the dogs of hell were chomping at our heels.

  Knowing the extent of Mab’s power, and her penchant for the dramatic, they probably would be.

  Ceff came to stand on my right, and Torn on my left with my uncle held in an arm lock, as the spectral glow of the gate began to pulse. I grit my teeth, preparing for a fight, but apparently the flashing light didn’t indicate a tripped alarm. We weren’t zapped into fae popsicles, or attacked by the guards, though the yetis did begin to move.

  The yetis turned in unison, grabbing onto the handles of two wheel-like mechanisms that had been previously hidden behind the girth of their enormous bodies. With a growl and snap of shifting ice, and the clank of chains, the doors of the ice palace gate began to swing inward to reveal a courtyard fit for a queen.