Jamison was silent for a long time after that, but she could see that he was thinking deeply about everything she’d said and watching the woods around them warily. She wondered if she’d told him too much; he was clearly a little freaked out by the shadowy figures moving around in the trees. But she wasn’t going to turn back just because Jamison was scared. Abagail’s pull was too strong.
The bright sunshine they rode into as they left the shadowed forest felt wonderful to her; it warmed her skin, which had become chilled, and filled her with hope. She knew it couldn’t be much farther. The pull had grown so strong that it was hard not to kick her horse into a gallop. But she resisted the temptation, knowing that Jamison needed some time to recover from the trip through the haunted forest.
Chapter Eleven
Jamison
Jamison was sure that he’d never felt cold the way he did when they came out of the forest, and it took several minutes before the sunshine began to warm him. As they’d ridden through the trees, he’d watched the shadows moving, felt the chill that came off them mixed with emotions he knew he shouldn’t have been feeling. Despair, shame, guilt, and rage filled him as the shadows passed, weighing him down with a sense fear unlike any he’d ever known.
Miranda seemed unphased by the experience, although he did see her shiver when they came out into the light, and he wondered how she could be so calm. “Did you feel that?” he finally asked, taking one final glance behind him.
She looked over at him, surprised. “You felt them?” she asked.
He nodded. “And it was horrible,” he answered honestly, his pride forgotten for a second. “I rather not ever go back there.”
“I’ll have to teach you how to block them out,” Miranda said. “That’s what I did.”
“I thought you weren’t going to use your magic,” he said, relieved to get back on comfortable ground.
She thought about that for a second. “I’m not sure that was magic; you could have done it, if you’d known how.”
He grunted. “I seriously doubt that, those things were...” he didn’t finish his sentence, just shuddered. “Is there anything else I should worry about?”
Miranda shrugged. “You’ve got the map,” she said.
They’d reached a little stream, and the horses were pulling their heads down to drink, so he slid off his horse, then reached up and helped Miranda down. A bolt of desire shot through him when her body brushed against his, but he ignored it and took the map out of his pocket. Miranda stood watching him as he fumbled to get the map open, looking more at ease than he’d ever seen her, and for the first time, he felt like she had the upper hand.
“Why do I feel like you know what’s coming?” he asked, anger bursting to life. “If you do, you’d better tell me. Do I need to remind you that I only came along to protect you? I can’t do that if you hide things from me.”
Miranda’s eyes filled with anger. “I don’t know any more than you do, especially since you took the map,” she said. “But I do know something about the spirit world, and what we just went through was nothing compared to what else might be out there. Like it or not, you’re in my world now, a world that you know nothing about.”
The truth hit him like a punch in the stomach, and Colin’s words surfaced in his mind again. It had been a few days after Darby had come to live at the castle; he’d been avoiding his brother, trying his best to patch up Ballantine after Simon’s attack when Colin had cornered him in his office at the barracks.
“You can’t keep avoiding me,” Colin said, sitting down in the chair across from him. “I’m sorry if you feel like I’ve made a mistake, but I love Darby, and we’re going to stay married.”
“So, you’re just going to ignore the law and decades of tradition?” Jamison asked, sitting forward in his chair. “Those laws were put in place for a reason, and I don’t see why you think you should change them.”
Colin sat back in his chair. “What were the reasons?” he asked.
Jamison was stunned by the question at first, then shocked that he didn’t have an answer, but he pushed the question aside. “It doesn’t matter; those are the laws we have to live with.”
He gave him a patronizing smile. “We don’t have to live with anything,” he said. “We have the power to change things, to make things better.”
“What was wrong with the way things were?” Jamison asked him, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Everyone was happy, and they knew where they belonged.”
“You know that’s not true. You know that Simon nearly destroyed Ballantine, and we’re the ones who let him do it,” his brother said, getting to his feet. “I saw the damage he did, Jamison, and if it hadn’t been for the laws, he might not have been able to do it.”
“I don’t believe that,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Because you don’t want to believe,” Colin said. “It wasn’t easy for me at first either, but now I can see that we’ve turned into a narrow-minded shallow society that’s isolated ourselves from the rest of the magical creatures with our laws. We have to change, Jamison, or the Unseelie will destroy us.”
At the time, he hadn’t understood what Colin was trying to tell him, but he was beginning to see it now. Safe at home in Ballantine, he’d been able to pretend that the Fae were the only beings in the Land of the Fae, but the truth was that they were far from alone and he knew nothing about what was out there.
“You’re right, I don’t know anything about what might be out there,” he said, surprising them both. “But I have a feeling you do.”
He tried to hand her the map, but she shook her head. “I don’t think we need that anymore,” she said, looking up the trail. “I think Abagail is just on the other side of those woods.”
“I was afraid you were going to say that,” he said, his stomach twisting with apprehension. “I just hope we don’t run into anything like those shadows.”
Miranda mounted her horse and gave him an encouraging smile. “Don’t worry: I’ll protect you,” she said.
“Not if you won’t use your magic,” he reminded her, then was sorry when her face fell.
She looked away. “That should make you happy,” she said, her eyes focused on the trail. “I know how much you hate magic.”
He opened his mouth, but nothing came out; he couldn’t admit that he wished she would use her magic. After another minute of silence, she kicked her horse into a trot and left him sitting staring after her, the enormity of what he was feeling paralyzing him for a moment. Not only was he wishing that a witch would use her magic, but desire for that witch was pounding through his veins.
***Miranda***
Miranda was slightly shocked that she’d yelled at Jamison, but it had felt good to be angry and express it, something she’d never been able to do. Even more surprising was that he hadn’t really fought back, except for his last remark, and she was just going to ignore it. Since they’d turned off the main trail, something had been happening deep inside her; the wounds of a lifetime that had oozed for as long as she could remember had begun to heal.
And with that healing came not only hope but confidence, another feeling she’d had very little of as well. Looking over at Jamison as they rode, she realized that for now, she was the stronger of the two, even if she didn’t use her magic, and it thrilled her to think that for once, she was in control. As they approached the forest that separated them from Abagail, she wondered what they might find in its shadows and prepared herself for something truly dangerous.
But when they rode out of the sunshine and into the darkened wood, she felt nothing but the pleasure of a summer day in the forest. “There’s nothing here,” she said, looking over at him.
“Really?” he asked, the relief on his face so obvious, she wanted to laugh but held it in.
“Just the usual stuff: birds, animals, and trees,” she said, grinning at him. “Looks like we made it.”
The woods turned out to be only a few miles wide, and it
wasn’t long before they emerged into a clearing full of tall grass. It was surrounded by trees on three sides and a steep cliff on the fourth; nestled in front of the cliff was a small cabin. Painted white, it sparkled in the sunlight, the brightly colored flowers and huge garden around the house such a striking contrast, Miranda stopped her horse and stared.
Anticipation thundered through her veins as the pull she’d been feeling grew stronger. “This is it,” she said, then nudged her horse into a walk again.
As they approached, the door to the cabin opened and a woman stepped out. Miranda knew at once that it was Abagail, but she looked nothing like she’d expected. The messenger had said that he’d met an old woman, but even from that distance, she could see that the figure standing in the doorway wasn’t old. When the woman stepped into the sunshine, Miranda could see her golden hair glistening in the sunlight and as they got closer, she realized that the woman was about her mother’s age.
The woman stood waiting for them in the yard in front of the cabin, her arms held loosely at her side, but Miranda could feel the magic emanating from her and knew that she wasn’t as harmless as she looked. When they entered the yard, she stopped the horse and slid down, took a few seconds to let her circulation return to her legs, then took a few tentative steps towards the woman.
“Are you Abagail?” Miranda croaked. “I think you sent for me.”
The woman smiled for the first time and nodded. “Yes, I’m Abagail,” she said. “I hope the haunted forest didn’t give you too many problems. It can be a bit difficult to get through.”
Miranda shook her head. “No, we stayed on the trail,” she said, her voice still quavering.
Abagail nodded, clearly pleased. “Good,” she said. “Come a little closer please.” She took a few tentative steps toward Abagail, who was studying her intently. Then she said, “You look just like your father.”
Miranda couldn’t help the gasp that came out. “You knew my father?” she finally asked.
“And your mother,” she said, still studying Miranda. “I’m sure your mother never mentioned me.”
Miranda shook her head. “My mother refused to talk about my father, and she never mentioned you.”
“Then I think we have a lot to talk about,” she said, “Come on into the house. Your friend can put the horses in the barn and join us afterward,”
She looked back at Jamison, who was staring at Abagail open-mouthed, but he finally looked at her and nodded. “I’ll...um...join you inside in a few minutes.”
Abagail studied Jamison for a minute, then turned and walked back inside the open door. Miranda followed her, stepping out of the bright sunshine and through the door, her heart thudding in her chest, questions spinning through her mind. This woman knew her mother and the father she’d never known; it seemed impossible, but she knew that life was full of impossibilities—she’d learned that lesson long ago.
The cabin was much larger on the inside than it seemed from the outside, and she had to stop and stare before she could get her feet to move again. Abagail had disappeared through a doorway farther down the hallway and she quickly followed, curious about the cabin but more interested in what Abagail had to say.
When she walked through the door into a brightly lit kitchen, she stood looking around the room for a second, immediately feeling that the room was the center of the house. It must have taken up the one entire side of the cabin, she realized, taking a few more steps into the room. The huge windows at one end of the room looked out toward the mountains, and she could just imagine watching the sunrise from the wooden table with a cup of coffee.
It took her a few moments to drag her eyes away from the view, but then the inviting smell of something wonderful began to permeate her senses and she turned to the other side of the room. Abagail was standing at the stove, stirring a steaming pot of stew, and the intoxicating scent made her stomach growl.
Abagail set down the spoon she’d been using, put a lid on the pot, then turned to her. “I’m sure your staving. Dinner will be ready in a few minutes,” she said. “Maybe you’d like a cup of tea while we’re waiting.”
Chapter Twelve
Jamison
Jamison watched the two women walk into the cabin, still stunned by the sight of Abagail. He’d been expecting an old woman, and instead, they’d found an attractive younger one. Her announcement that she’d known both Miranda’s mother and father had shocked him, as much as it had clearly shocked Miranda, but for much different reasons.
Abagail’s words echoed in his head, and he realized that Miranda had never mentioned her father: in fact, no one had ever mentioned him. But what concerned him even more was that Abagail had known Miranda’s mother, and a stab of fear raced through him when he realized that they might have just walked into an Unseelie trap. He’d never trusted Darby, and she’d sent them to Abagail, but as much as he wanted to grab onto that theory, he couldn’t make it stick.
Sighing, frustrated with the confusion in his mind, he nudged his horse forward, grabbed the other horse’s reins, and started around the cabin in the direction Abagail had pointed. There was more space between the back of the cabin and the cliff than he’d thought, enough room for a stout barn, big enough to house several horses and a few other animals. As he took the scene in, including the chicken coop that sat in the barnyard, he got only the feeling of a place that had been cared for.
But then he realized that a witch had resources that normal people didn’t have, and magic could have been used to create what he saw, and some of the charm drained away. His earlier fear surfaced, but dismounting in the barnyard, he felt nothing evil in the air, no indication that anything was amiss. After tying the horses up to the hitching post, he stepped into the barn, which was tidy but crowded, with only two empty stalls.
He walked past the cow, who was happily munching on a bunch of hay, a sow with several piglets, and a goat that stuck its head through the slats on its pen and sniffed him as he walked by. The barn was neat and tidy, the tack room at the back as clean as any he’d seen, and he wondered again how much magic was involved in keeping the barn in such good condition. It seemed impossible to him that one woman could do all of this alone, and again, he found himself worrying about what he’d gotten himself into.
When he’d finally seen to the horses, he walked back around to the front door, anxious to know what had gone on in his absence. Miranda and Abagail would have had plenty of time to conspire against him, or for Abagail to pull Miranda over to the Unseelie, or for—he stopped himself from thinking anymore and knocked on the door. He heard a voice tell him to come in, so he pushed the door open, stepped inside, and shut it behind him.
Standing in the entryway, he found himself surprised again; he wasn’t sure what he’d expected walking into a witch’s house, but it wasn’t the charming room he was looking at right then. He stood staring for longer than he should have, then made himself turn away, the urge to collapse into one of the chairs in front of the enormous fireplace almost more than he could resist.
Knowing he was probably looking for the kitchen, he passed by an open doorway to what looked like a small study and went farther down the hallway. The next door led to a brightly lit kitchen, and the smell of food hit him the second he stepped inside, making his stomach growl loudly. Miranda and Abagail were seated at a wooden table, but as soon as she saw him, Abagail got to her feet.
She gave him the same appraising look she’d given Miranda just a little while ago, but a smile didn’t appear on her face. Instead, she said, “Dinner is ready,” and walked away from him. “There’s a bathroom down the hallway if you need to get cleaned up.”
Dinner seemed to last a lifetime; the food was wonderful, but Miranda was clearly exhausted, nearly falling asleep several times before she’d finished eating, and Abagail clearly didn’t want him there. He could feel her disapproval from across the table but ignored it; he’d done nothing wrong, had, in fact, saved Miranda from the Unseelie.
It was a relief when the food was gone and Abagail said, “I think it’s time I showed you to your room. You look exhausted.”
“But you still haven’t told me about my father,” Miranda protested, but it was a weak protest.
“We’ll have plenty of time for that tomorrow when you’ve had some rest,” Abagail said, getting to her feet.
Miranda opened her mouth to protest, then closed it and got to her feet. “Only if you promise to tell me tomorrow,” she said, then let Abagail lead her out of the kitchen.
Jamison waited at the table for Abagail to come back, deciding that now was a good time as any for them to have a little talk. She wasn’t surprised to see him still there when she came back into the kitchen. “You could have started cleaning up while you were waiting,” she said, walking over and picking up dishes from the table.
“I figured you’d just use witchcraft to clean it up,” he said, watching her face closely. “Isn’t that how you do all this?”
She stopped and turned around. “What difference would it make if I did? I’m not hurting anyone.”
“Unless you’re working for the Unseelie,” he said, getting to his feet.
***Miranda***
Miranda woke the next morning, opened her eyes, and looked around, but knew immediately where she was. A smile spread across her face, then disappeared when she remembered that Abagail was going to tell her about her father, and her stomach filled with butterflies. All her life, she’d imagined what her father must have been like, how he looked, what his voice sounded like, even what he might have smelled like.
She’d lived with many questions about him for so long, and now that she was going to get some answers, she was nervous, afraid that the picture she’d painted of him in her mind was about to be shattered. She wasn’t sure she could stand it if she found out that her father was as evil as her mother, wasn’t sure that she could ever believe that she was anything but evil if that were true.
Fae Mistaken (Fae 0f Ballantine Book 4) Page 7