The Earl's Childe

by T. J. Wooldridge

  “Ermie! Your fur!” There were six seeping and still bubbling wounds. Worse, though, around each wound his normally wriggling fur hung dead and brown.

  It will take years for it to grow back, if it even does grow back.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. The sadness and pain in his mind-voice twisted my heart. I gently patted the wound, and he jumped away, turning his head so his eyes didn’t meet mine. Clumps of dead, brown tentacle fur clung to the damp compress.

  It’s fine. Really.

  I pressed my lips together. “Tony!” I called to the djinni. “Tony, come here, please?”

  I’ll be fine! He doesn’t need to touch me! Ermie side-passed away from me as the djinni came to my side.

  Claustrophobic and djinni-phobic, I noted.

  “Yes, Heather,” Tony said, glancing between the kelpie and me.

  “Can you help Ermie? And…without touching him?” “Not if he doesn’t want me to.”

  I walked over to Ermie, hands outstretched to him. “He’s not going to hurt you. Please? I don’t want to see you in pain.” I rubbed my hands up and down his muzzle and around the straps of his bridle, reaching to scratch his neck, albeit gently; there were some scabs that looked like red-cap tooth marks there, too.

  With a sigh, he leaned his forehead on my shoulder. You trust him?

  I looked at Tony, thinking of what he said to Joe about choosing to be in debt to him. He didn’t have to heal all of us, but he had. “Aye, I do.”

  Fine, then. I trust you.

  I nodded at Tony; the weight of Ehrwnmyr’s words caught in my throat. There was no teasing or sarcasm in his tone.

  I do trust you. You’re foolishly, stubbornly, and unrealistically kind to a fault so huge you would get your weak, mortal self killed. Do you realize how aggravating that is?

  That sounded a bit more like the kelpie I knew. I chuckled.

  “I’m done.” Tony stepped away from Ermie. Stepping a little farther away from the djinni, he stretched his neck to sniff at his flank.

  Even my fur! This fact made the (rather vain) kelpie very happy.

  “Tha— Are you one of those people I’m not allowed to thank?” I asked Tony. He’d said Joe didn’t have to worry, but I wasn’t taking any chances.

  He smirked at me. “You’re welcome. Your thanks puts you in no debt to me, no. But it’s good you’re aware of such things.”

  I smiled at him.

  “If there’s nothing else, Heather, it’s nearly tea, and there is something I must do.”

  Tea! We needed an answer about Dad’s earldom by teatime!

  “Okay,” I said, and he disappeared. I didn’t know what answer to worry about more. If the queen gave my dad an earldom or whatever. Or if she didn’t.

  Echoes of laughter trickled from the dining room. No one else was in the great hall, now, but the two equines and me, save for when Prince Christopher or Princess Maryan walked out to check on us.

  I walked over to the large fireplace and sat on its raised marble platform. Ermie followed me, tucked his knees in, and actually lay down beside me.

  There’s a reason you are avoiding your friends whom you worked so hard to keep safe?

  I shook my head. “They’re busy talking about how many red caps they killed.”

  Ehrwnmyr stared at me for a very long time before saying, They did commendably well, considering their youth and clear lack of training with blades. Particularly the young prince, your “best mate.”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  And this makes you uncomfortable.

  “They’re proud of killing things. Even Joe, who…” I stopped. It was none of Ermie’s business about how Joe felt about losing his bodyguard.

  The kelpie tilted his head. You do realize the red caps would have killed you. Eaten your friends while they still lived. While Calbraith watched. And made you watch, because it would kill you inside, and that is exactly his preferred form of entertainment. He paused a moment. I saw the other horse’s body. Smelled its fear still in the air. You must know there was no other option but to kill them for our escape.

  “Killing still shouldn’t be something you’re proud of.” I frowned at him, remembering his joy when I gave him permission to kill the red caps. “Or something you enjoy.”

  It is true I take pleasure in killing, and even in the taste of others’ fear—and I know you don’t want to hear me say that—but I do not take pleasure in killing one’s spirit or in that level of torture. I have never eaten another intelligent creature while it lived.

  I didn’t say anything. But I wasn’t concentrating on hiding my thoughts, either.

  He nudged my knee with his nose. It is yourself you are uncomfortable with, angry with, the most. For giving me permission to kill.

  I nodded slowly.

  They would have killed us all. Worse than just killed us all.

  “I know.” I wiped tears from my eyes with the sleeve that hadn’t been flayed open by Calbraith’s scourge. “Just…still.”

  Still nothing. If you’d chosen to hold me back, it would have been a death sentence for all of us. Or worse.

  “I know. I do. But knowing that doesn’t make me feel any better about it!”

  Ermie sighed. Nor do you even think it should. I repeat my earlier observation on how aggravating sharing your soul is. You’re too precious for words.

  I scowled at him. “Stop calling me precious!”

  But you’re so precious.

  “You know what, I won’t feel guilty for smacking you on the nose if you call me precious again!”

  He rolled to his feet and hunched, more like a dog than a horse. Behind him, Stormy scampered to his feet, unsure of this new development. Can your precious mortal body even catch me to do that?

  “I can order you to stop!” I growled, standing up.

  You would do that? Command me against my free will for no gain but your own sore pride? Alas, perhaps your soul is not that precious.

  “Cut it out! You’re mocking me!” I swatted in the direction of his nose, but he was right. My mortal moves didn’t even come close to making contact as he hopped to the side.

  Do you feel guilt if you crush a precious wee biting midge, too?

  “Maybe I do. I don’t like killing things.” Even stupid insects.

  How precious. He threw his head up and cackled. It echoed through the great hall like notes from a church’s pipe organ.

  “Heather, are you okay?” Joe had run out of the dining room, followed by the rest of the crew. Ermie’s reverberating laugh made us all cringe.

  “I’m fine.” Save my pride. I glowered at the kelpie, who showed his wicked teeth in a wide grin.

  As his laughter started to fade, a deep gong filled the air. We all startled, crouching defensively.

  “When did you get bells in the castle, Heather?” Joe asked.

  “We didn’t. Not that I know.”

  “It’s the garden Bell Spell,” came Mum’s voice as she ran back into the hall, Max, Rowan, and Dad right behind her. Isis followed, barking and howling. Mum looked at Ermie. “Can you take us to the meeting spot?”

  Garden Bell Spell? Meeting spot? How injured our parents had looked before Tony healed them and Ermie saying the castle had been “breached” while we kids were fighting flashed in my head. What had happened while we were out of the castle?

  While Dad grabbed Isis to keep her from attacking Ermie (who merely chuffed in her direction), Mum looked down at my brother, who hovered by my side again. “Rowan, stay here and be good for Princess Maryan and Prince Christopher.”

  “I want to go!” he shouted.

  “Rowan,” my dad said. “Help me with Isis, please?” My brother ran over and the two of them calmed her down. “Thank you, Rowan. Can you please take care of Isis for me? Help her keep everyone here safe?”

  My brother tightened his jaw and gave a little whine. I could see my dad shaking as he tried to preserve his patience. Fortunately, my brother seemed to understand the
situation and took hold of Isis’s collar, nodding.

  “That’s my boy. Thank you.” Turning from my brother, Dad cupped his hands to make a step for Mum to mount Ermie. He picked me up next and sat me in front of Mum. Then he gave Max a leg up. Prince Christopher came over and offered my dad a leg up, too.

  “Wait, before you leave!” Tony reappeared in the great hall, making Ermie start, which is very uncomfortable with four humans aboard, I may add, even with magickal fur that holds you on.

  Rowan just barely kept control of Isis again. The poor dog, having to deal with all these magickal beings!

  “I have news from Her Majesty, the Queen, that may prove useful.” He walked over to us and handed a scroll to my father. “Your papers, Lord Berwickshire, and a summons for a more formal ceremony.”

  I looked behind me, to see my dad’s jaw drop. He looked at Prince Christopher. “I…”

  “Hurry up, or you’ll be late,” the prince said with a smile, slapping Ermie on the butt.

  In my head, Ermie wanted me to be aware that he consciously refrained from kicking the prince.

  “Side door.” Mum gestured to the always-locked smaller door that led to the northwest gardens. “Let’s see if we can avoid the troops knowing what we’re up to. Tony, if you will?”

  Smiling, the djinni snapped his fingers, and the door opened.

  “Can you make us fit, Ermie?”

  I would duck if I were you.

  As we rode through the door, I felt a weight in my lap. A small lamp, like right out of Aladdin, but small enough to fit into my palm, threatened to fall to the ground. I let go of Ermie’s mane with one hand and caught it. As I touched it, I heard a whisper in my ear, different from the mind-voice of Ermie. It was Tony.

  “I’m no longer bound to this, but they needn’t know that. I would suggest saving this for a last bargaining chip, choosing your words carefully if you need to do so.”

  I held it for Mum to see. “I think we can negotiate on our terms,” I said before hiding it in the waistband of my riding pants and pulling my shirt to hide it.

  CHAPTER

  19

  Because negotiating with faery folk when lives are on the line is exactly how I want to spend my summer vacation.

  Ermie took us to the rose garden fountain. A patio table and chairs were set up; Lady Fana and Lord Cadmus reclined in two of the chairs. Mum and Dad looked as surprised to see that as I was, so I figured the furniture “came with” the faerie. Tom, in his mostly-person-looking form, leaned on the fountain, oversized tail curling around his legs. Four of the owl fey waited in a circle on the next-outermost path.

  The lord, lady, and Tom all stood when we dismounted. I flashed Tom a big smile that I hoped he could read. I’d missed him. He inclined his head a little and gave me a wink, then nodded at Lady Fana and Lord Cadmus.

  “Family MacArthur of Clan Arthur,” Lord Cadmus greeted. “And Liaison Heather.” His eyes flew to Max.

  “Your pardon, Lord Cadmus,” my dad said, clearing his throat. “But she is Lady Heather MacArthur of Berwickshire, Liaison.”

  Oh, wait. I had a title now. I hoped I didn’t look too surprised.

  “Our apologies, my ladies and my lords.” Fana bowed her head. Cadmus followed suit, but he still stared at Max. “You hadn’t mentioned this before.”

  “We were told it would be better for our relations should we use the family title, reinstated by Her Majesty, the Queen.”

  “But of course,” Fana said. “And who might be your guest? We expected only your family.”

  “May you accept our apologies, now, for we don’t know the proper etiquette for titles of Faerie,” Dad said. “But this is Lord Maximilian Drummond of Perthshire. Also, the son of Lord Calbraith…and, I believe, your nephew, Lord Cadmus?”

  “Indeed, that would be my nephew walking at your side,” Lord Cadmus said. Suspicion narrowed his violet eyes, but he didn’t react further. “Well met.”

  “Well met, sir,” Max said.

  Tom coughed and gave me a look.

  “In Faerie, is it always ‘m’lord’ or ‘m’lady’?” I quickly asked. “Again, apologies. We’ve not been tutored much in Faerie etiquette. And I’d rather my parents negotiate for now, if that’s all right?” Oh, and there’s an army on our doorstep, so can we get these formalities over with? I thought in that little locked-up box in my head so no one would “hear.”

  “We do prefer the more formal titles in Faerie,” Lady Fana nodded. “It is good of you to ask. And we will speak with your parents.”

  “Then, well met, m’lord,” Max corrected.

  “Not to offend,” Mum said, eyes darting around, “but are we safe here? Are four guards enough?”

  “Our allies guard this position,” Lady Fana responded coolly. “And we have our own protective spell should fighting break out. Now, if Tom has reported to us truly and you have not, indeed, entered a contract with Lord Calbraith, shall we sit and discuss our terms of allegiance?”

  “Tom speaks truly,” my mum said, taking a seat first. “We have not made any treaty with Calbraith, nor have we any desire to.”

  The slightest smirk touched Lord Cadmus’s lips at Mum’s dropping of Calbraith’s title. I wasn’t sure if it was intentional on her part, or her American “We-don’t-do-fancy-pants-titles” slipping through along with her bit of a Southern accent.

  “So, you would be interested in making a treaty with us?”

  “A temporary one. For this issue with Calbraith,” Mum said. “The kelpie has explained you’re accustomed to such things with other fey clans?”

  I glanced over my shoulder at said kelpie, who had one ear on us while pretending to look utterly comfortable and relaxed as he exchanged sidelong glances with Tom.

  “We are.” Lady Fana did not sound massively thrilled with the option.

  “Good.” My mum gave a brilliant smile. “Let’s make this quick, because, let’s just say, I’ve been out of practice casting for some time, and there’s a red cap army at my door.” I silently cheered her on as she continued. From the corner of my eye, I saw a few lines form around Dad’s mouth, but I couldn’t tell if he was shocked or amused by Mum’s “manners.” She continued, “We’ve given Max, here, safe quarter, and promise to continue to do so until he wishes otherwise without duress from the jackass outside our door. We find you both far more amiable neighbors, so we’re all for some way of helping out without throwing any more kids in the way of danger. We also have the kelpie who, I’ve heard, with proper backup because he’s not immune to iron, claws, teeth, or bullets, can take out about a dozen red caps in a go. Also,” she shared a look with my dad, “we’ve got a prisoner locked up downstairs. And from Heather’s description of your meeting the other night, we think you might be interested in her. She’s a cat fey. Goes by Marquesa? She was working for Calbraith, and tried to break in after Max took down the salt lines.”

  Tom gasped so hard he started coughing. We all turned to stare at him. When he caught his breath, he asked meekly, “Did you hurt her?”

  “No.” My dad sounded offended. “We’re not like that!”

  Lady Fana narrowed her eyes at Tom. “Were you aware of your mother’s allegiance?”

  Mother?! For goodness sake, what freaking family feud of faerie hadn’t we gotten stuck in the middle of yet?

  “No. We don’t speak. At all.” His voice came out more pained than I believe he intended.

  “She speaks of you,” Lady Fana said. Her tone said, “Not well.”

  “I know.” Tom’s ears flattened, and he looked like he wanted to crawl into a hole for eternity.

  “So,” Mum said. “Nearly all the salt lines on our property, save around the immediate castle, have been broken. You have full run of our land. The kelpie will support you as an independent agent, not as a slave. And we will keep Max safe, which will keep Calbraith occupied because he wants him—”

  “Mrs.—I mean Lady— Ah!” Max stood, backing away, pressing his hands
to his face.

  Mum, Dad, and I stood with him.

  “What is it?” Lord Cadmus asked as he and Lady Fana also stood.

  “It’s not…working! The spell you tried to do…to keep him out…”

  Mum cussed. “I didn’t bring any iron with me. I figured it was bad form.”

  Dad’s face showed he’d thought the same.

  I had iron! I’d never drawn my boot knife in the fight. I pulled it out now, ignoring the gasps from the daoine síth. “Max. Grab the blade.”

  He did. I winced as I heard the sizzle of the blade and his pained growling behind clenched teeth. Behind me, I heard a commotion of chairs clattering and angry voices. I was focused on Max, though. “Like Mum said, use it! Be stronger than him!”

  After a moment, Max sucked in a deep breath and, with a groan, opened his hand. I could see the blistering skin before he gingerly curled his fingers to his chest, eyes still squeezed shut. “Thank you—” He quickly turned, pulling me behind him.

  Two of the four guards had swords pointed at us. The other two were by my parents.

  “How dare you!” Lady Fana said, pointing at my parents.

  “We didn’t know!” My mum said. Her body quivered, as did Dad’s, as if they were trying to fight being frozen. They probably were. If Calbraith could do that kind of magick, surely these two could. The swords pointed at them…that was for my benefit. Mum continued, “She didn’t know. I swear to you, none of us knew Heather had her knife, and I didn’t think to remind her to remove it! She’s just eleven! She meant no offense by it, and I should have known to check! We’re her parents—that is on our heads!”

  “Enough!” Lady Fana pointed to them, and my Mum’s mouth snapped shut.

  Ermie flew to my side. The two owl fey on my parents—my parents, who were well and truly trapped by Fana’s magick—and one of the owl guards by Max and me turned their swords to him. He was unperturbed. I was well aware Heather had iron, and I specifically refrained from advising her not to bring it.

  Lord Cadmus glared at him. Ermie lifted his head proudly and glared right back. The owl fey shifted uncomfortably. Though they drew closer to him, I could see they were shaking. The corner of my kelpie’s lip lifted in amusement. I half-expected him to say, “Bring it!”