The Earl's Childe

by T. J. Wooldridge

  And weren’t we just talking about complicated family issues?

  Calbraith frowned. I tentatively reached my mind out to Ehrwnmyr to see how he felt we were doing.

  His only response was, He hasn’t yet further tried to spill anyone’s blood. We may be thankful of that. One of you may wish to steer the conversation back to negotiating our free retreat as opposed to debating powers and titles.

  Clearly, he didn’t feel cheerleading was part of his advisory role.

  “Your title can be reinstated, though. They—” Calbraith gestured towards Prince Christoper “—have the power to do that, still. That much I know.”

  “What would be the point of that?” my father asked.

  “And it would be my mother, Her Royal Majesty the Queen, with that power, not me,” Prince Christopher added.

  “Excuse me, Lord Calbraith,” I said. He looked at me. “But is there an agreement we can work out? At least one where you’ll let us get home safe tonight? All of us?”

  He gave me a particularly condescending sneer.

  You may have wished to word that so that our passage back was not the only item being negotiated, Ermie noted to me.

  You may have wished to give me a little clearer advice than “can we get the negotiations to safe escape moving a little faster” then. I kept myself from scowling, though. It wouldn’t do for Lord Powerful Daoine síth with Two Score Red Caps to see I was having a disagreement with my kelpie.

  “Why would I want to give up my advantage in these negotiations? I feel rather certain none of you want to see my minions tear each of you apart, one at a time, while you’re helpless to stop it.”

  I ground my teeth but did my best to speak with genuine-sounding innocence and sweetness, “True, but aren’t you tired? Don’t faerie need to sleep, too? I don’t know…I mean, I really don’t know that much about faerie or what you really want with the humans. I just got kind of pulled into this because I didn’t want to kill Ermie.”

  What are you doing? Ermie asked me in a tone that suggested he didn’t approve.

  Playing to his superiority complex.

  It is not a “complex.” He does have a superior position. Significantly so.

  Trust me. For once?

  “I am getting tired, yes,” Calbraith responded, looking not at all tired. “This was a rather unexpected visit on your part, although, as I said, one that clearly benefited my position. I’ll keep this simple for your simple human mind, then. I want the rights to this land on both human and Faerie terms. It should have been mine years ago. Fana lost claim to it when the MacArthur clan vacated—”

  “The MacArthur clan never vacated,” my father interrupted again. “It was always in our name, and there was, indeed, always a MacArthur living on it. My great-aunt never left, and my uncle returned before she passed, though he chose the life of a recluse and made it appear abandoned. And I have documents to prove it.”

  “But you have no title, merely ownership. The agreement was made with the Earl of the Borders, not some common landowner who happens to live in a castle. Without your title, your contract is problematic, so I can, technically, make an attack upon you without having broken the rules, and if Cadmus and Fana choose to defend you, they have no recourse with the higher courts unless I make too terrible a scene.” Calbraith’s grin grew wider. “Which, I suppose, lack of actual rulership or not, might be a problem if the human royals are involved. However, one or two or four of those lovely children currently on your land might be minor enough to avoid a higher court’s involvement.” I heard the collective gasps and growls behind me. “But, as much as I’d enjoy it, I’d enjoy my proper respects more. So, I will very kindly and generously offer you until sunset to have your title reinstated so you may return here and make a contract swearing complete obedience to me, or you can rest assured none of your salt or your spells of protection or even your kelpie will keep me from reaching you. Are we clear?”

  “We’ve got till sunset,” I said, glancing at the brightening sky to the east, “to come back to you with my dad’s title reinstated and willing to do whatever it is you want, or you come after us, and we have no chance to stop you. Aye, I think we got it.”

  He grinned even wider, showing perfectly smooth, white teeth that were a little pointed. Yep, definitely creepier than Lord Cadmus. “Oh, and just so you’re not holding out for some miracle support from the Seelie Court…” He opened a leather satchel on his side and pulled out a small cage, which he illuminated. Inside, the poison-ivy pixie I’d met earlier that day lay curled in a fetal position, shaking. “Its little mate has already informed Fana and Cadmus that you’re negotiating with me.”

  There was another wave of swearing and grumbles behind me. In my head, I sensed similar thoughts from Ermie.

  Tucking the little cage back into its bag, he fixed us with another of his awful smiles. “So. Sunset. Let’s not waste a moment. Some royalty requires time to get things accomplished.” He shot a look at Prince Christopher, who gave the briefest of nods.

  “I’ll do what needs to be done,” he said coolly. I had to give props to His Royal Highness; he didn’t flinch in his royal demeanor at all, despite the fact that, as I could see him in the light, he looked pretty messed up. One arm was in a filthy sling, and his shirt and trousers were in tatters. He held the iron knife in his good hand, and he still looked like he knew what he was doing with it despite his injuries. Joe was staring at him, too, with awe and respect in his eyes.

  I was rather proud of my dad, too. I wouldn’t have known all that family information, nor could I have used it in negotiations as easily as he had. Though I saw his hands shaking terribly, and his eyes still that unnatural brightness that let me know his mind was uncontrollably spinning a hundred miles an hour, he was focused. And he wasn’t backing down. “So, you’re fixing our truck, too?” he asked. “I don’t believe we can all fit on the kelpie.”

  Calbraith raised an eyebrow at my dad, who… Wait! I followed his gaze and had to look away. What did my dad think he was doing, looking the daoine síth in the eye?!

  Mum must have noticed that, too, because she sucked in her breath and clutched his non-knife-holding hand.

  Calbraith broke the stare-down first, but not without style. He lazily flicked his hand in our direction again, turning to leave. “I don’t touch human contraptions. It’s not my fault I had to use force when other means couldn’t stop you. It’s a beautiful sunrise. Enjoy a walk beneath it with the last bit of your freedom…or the last bit of some of your lives.” He glanced over his shoulder, this time at Lily and then at me in a way that totally made my skin crawl. “You do make lovely children.”

  I felt my dad lurch behind me, as if he planned on tackling the daoine síth lord.

  “Michael,” Mum hissed slowly. She was squeezing him extremely hard. “Please. Please. Not now. We’ll figure something out.”

  I heard my dad forcing out several breaths as Mum pushed herself more against him, holding him back.

  With the little bit of dawn, I was able to see the red caps surrounding us more clearly. Not that seeing them was remotely reassuring. There were at least twenty. And they all looked like short, stocky, body-building men (and a few women, I think, but I couldn’t really tell the girls from boys), with hoods, bandanas, and other various head gear, all a rusty red. Their eyes still seemed to glow yellow, as did their teeth, which resembled the shark-like teeth of the kelpie. Only in human-shaped mouths, which somehow made them even more grotesque.

  Or, maybe I was just getting used to Ermie.

  None of us moved until all of the Unseelie were out of sight. Then, we took a collective breath and started heading back to the castle.

  “Heather, Ehrwnmyr,” said a very exhausted-sounding Princess Maryan, “might Joe, Annie, and Richard ride?”

  “I’m fine, Mum,” Joe immediately protested. “It’s just a scratch. I want to walk with Heather. Please?”

  The princess sighed.

  The
others may ride. And Prince Christopher. Even Ermie’s “voice” was exhausted, drained.

  “He said they can ride. And Prince Christopher, too. He’s also injured.”

  “I’m fine, as well,” said Prince Christopher. Joe clearly didn’t get any ounce of stubbornness from his parents. None at all.

  We helped Richard and Annie up, giving them fair warning that Ermie would “hold” them so they stayed on. When I pulled my hand away, though, it was sticky with blood that smelled of the ocean.

  “Ermie—”

  I am fine also, child. Before I could argue, he continued, in a “louder” telepathic voice. I have sustained far worse injuries, from both Calbraith and his red caps, and the little ones will slow us down, so let it be. Once I am back to my water, I will heal faster than any of you mortal humans.

  Beside me, Joe laced his fingers through mine. “Are you—” I started.

  “Don’t even ask,” he frowned, not looking at me. “Please. Just. Just…”

  “I was so worried about you,” I said softly.

  He squeezed my hand, but said nothing, his mind in its own world. I let him have his peace.

  We passed the truck. The whole driver’s bumper was crunched into the fender and the plastic of the lamps glittered in crystal bits through the sheep-eaten grass. As Dad reached in on his tiptoes to retrieve the key from the ignition, I heard Mum ask, “What did he mean, when other means wouldn’t stop you? And how could you look him in the eye? Was it like that…”

  “No. Not that.” He shook his head and I wondered what “that” could have been. “But it appears that a clinically manic mind is either extremely unpleasant or too hard to manipulate for a faerie.” From his voice, I could picture the hard, mirthless smile on his face.

  “Interesting,” was all Mum said.

  Dad snorted. I did notice both my parents still had their knives out and ready.

  Prince Christopher and Princess Maryan walked behind us, knives also at the ready. Lily walked on Ermie’s other side, knife still drawn, and I could see her posture reflecting all the martial-arts training Mum had insisted we have. She wasn’t saying much, either.

  What were we going to do?

  CHAPTER

  14

  You can’t wish away terrible things. I know that. But…it still hurts to remember that fact.

  Joe’s arm was not fine, we found out as his mum and mine made him pull off his torn shirt. What made the “not fine” clear to me, his best friend, was that he didn’t even argue with our mums. And he looked like he might just pass out when he finally saw the angry red and pus-colored gashes that went from his shoulder to his elbow.

  “We need a doctor,” Maryan said with a gasp.

  “We need to get any red-cap poison out first,” Mum said, barking a list of things to Mrs. McInnis, who nodded and ran to the pantry. “Unless you actually know a doctor who specializes in this sort of thing.”

  The two met eyes. “Not in this country,” Maryan said softly.

  Mum’s only response was raised eyebrows as she had Mrs. McInnis start steeping the ingredients in the already-boiling water. I climbed up onto the table next to Joe, on his good side. He didn’t say anything but leaned so his good shoulder touched mine.

  “Y’know. On the telly and stuff, they always make people keep talking, so they don’t pass out…” I told him as the two mums were checking out the younger kids, who only had some minor scrapes that were not from the red caps.

  “Why? Do I look like I’m about to pass out?” He managed a smirk.

  “You did a second ago, kinda.” I offered him a smile back. “So you probably should keep talking.”

  The mums, with help from Dad, were doing their best to convince—without arguing with—Prince Christopher about letting them see his arm. Lily had met my eye, but was staying by Dad and trying to help, leaving me alone with Joe. As soon as the mums had switched their attention to Prince Christopher, Annie, who was a little older than my younger brother Rowan, edged onto the table just behind Joe. She leaned her head on Joe’s back, saying nothing. Wincing, he moved his bad arm enough to take her hand.

  “You and Rich should probably get some sleep,” he said gently, over his shoulder.

  “Uhn-uhn.” She slowly shook her head “no” against him. “Staying with you.”

  Gritting his teeth, because I’m sure his bad arm hurt like anything, he hugged her arm to his stomach and sighed.

  “So…” I met his eyes. “What…happened?”

  Joe lowered his eyes from mine and spoke barely above a whisper. “I don’t want to talk about that. Please. Not…” He glanced over his shoulder at Annie.

  “Oh, right.” I felt stupid as I looked at the clearly exhausted girl.

  “So, you tell me. What is going on here? I leave you alone for two weeks and you’re overrun with red caps and a mad daoine síth who wants to enslave you all?”

  I puffed out air through pursed lips. “Actually, you got just about the whole story from Lord MacCreepy the Worse’s bad monologuing.”

  I don’t know who snerked first, but Joe wasn’t alone in his reaction. Then I heard Mum ask Dad, “Dearest, maybe you should direct him to the next Bond Villain casting call.”

  “Too unfair. A millennia of angst-ridden family drama is something some method actors only dream of.”

  I’m pretty sure there were a few more jokes like that, but shortly, all of us started laughing. Hard. Which, I suppose, is all you can do when you get in a mess as big as ours with no immediate way out. And you’ve had no, or next to no sleep and are beyond exhausted. You just laugh like crazy people.

  The buzzer on the stove went off, and Mum put a compress on Joe’s arm. He scrunched his face and clutched my arm painfully; it must have stung or burned like heck.

  “Keep this on until I tell you to take it off. Understand?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he answered as respectfully as one can through clenched teeth.

  After letting him take a few deep breaths, I twisted my arm so he would let up.

  “Payback for when I was scared of the ghost?” I asked, rubbing my arm and remembering how hard I’d clutched him when one of the castle ghosts, Abigail, had led us downstairs to find a magickal rope to capture Ermie.

  “I had no idea you were utterly terrified of ghosts,” he teased, though his voice was still strained. “I would not have guessed such a thing until you confessed it this very moment.”

  I chuckled, then filled him in on all the details of the past two—or was it three?—days. Mouth open, Joe stared at me. “I’m sorry you had to go through that…all of that. You really have had things messed up here, too…”

  The worst was worrying about you, really, I said in my head.

  “We weren’t in a war zone,” Lily said, her voice soft, as she moved beside Joe and me. “That’s what they said on the news about…”

  Joe swallowed and didn’t look up.

  “Did they say anything about us?” Princess Maryan asked, turning to us.

  “Just that there were theories you were over there, and then those stories kind of disappeared,” Lily answered. “My older sister’s girlfriend, fiancee now, was over there—she’s a photojournalist—and I think she helped cover up anything about you all. Wasn’t… Didn’t you all have guards and stuff?”

  The prince’s and princess’s eyes flicked to Joe, who was still staring at his knees. “We did. But we were separated—” Princess Maryan began.

  “They were killed!” Joe snapped, turning his head quickly to glare at his parents and making Annie jump. He looked away, glancing in the direction of my parents. “Excuse me. My legs are cramping up, and I need to walk. I’ll keep this on.” He held the compress to his arm as he slid off the kitchen table and headed towards the museum side of the castle.

  The adults nodded their permission as I followed him.

  “I’m fine,” he growled when he heard the door shut behind me as we entered the display dining room, where no one a
ctually ate, but where we showcased all the antique china, silverware (as in actual silver), and even some goldware. I wondered if any utensils were iron and, if so, which. In case we needed backup weapons.

  “No, you’re not. And I’d be a pretty rubbish best friend if I believed that for even a second.” I continued to follow him as he passed into the show parlor, which had chairs so old you couldn’t sit in them…but a long list of other famous people and past kings, queens, earls, lords, politicians, generals, and the like all had, so you could try and guess whose butt-print you were looking at.

  Without answering me, he shoved through that door and went up the marble staircase that led to the second-floor music room and the display library, with books and documents in specially sealed displays. Things my father had been finding and getting preserved since we moved into the castle. I wondered if the agreement with Lady Fana he mentioned was in there.

  We didn’t get that far, though. Joe stopped in the music room, jumping when he triggered the motion sensor that started the player spinneret. I’d gone through the museum part of the castle thousands of times, and sometimes I still jumped.

  Scowling at me, he stopped and stared out the small windows of old, wavy glass. While the castle was hundreds of years old, a lot of it had been redone more “recently,” which was why there were glass windows that my best friend could glare out of and see the blurry kaleidoscope of our gardens in the sunrise.

  “Just…leave me alone, all right?”

  Something in his voice made me not believe him. “No. You wouldn’t if this were me acting like you are.”

  He scowled again, though this time less severely. I walked over and stood beside him, also staring outside. After a few minutes, I heard him sniffle. When I looked at him, tears were streaming down his face.

  I’d never seen Joe cry. Ever.

  I didn’t know what to do, but I knew I didn’t like it if people saw me cry, so I didn’t say anything. I just stayed there, next to him.