by Grace Martin
‘How long until then, do you think?’
‘Quite a few hours, Emer.’
‘Aren’t you hungry? I’m hungry.’
‘There won’t be any food until this evening.’
‘Fine. I’ll have a sleep, then.’
‘Your hair won’t dry bundled up like that.’
‘You’ve done enough telling me what to do,’ I snapped and threw myself onto the bed dropping a towel on the pillow, so I wouldn’t ruin it with my wet hair. Rhiannon withdrew, taking the pile of ruined towels with her, apparently forgetting that she’d placed me on suicide watch. A few moments after she’d gone, I reached behind me and pulled the wand out of my hair, letting the hair spread over the towel. By the time Rhiannon returned and curled up on the bed to sleep behind me, I was already asleep.
Chapter Fourteen
The guards came to collect us late in the evening. They took us to an anteroom and stood an odd kind of guard over us. I’d spent quite a bit of time under guard and this was different. These guards were almost… deferential. They were polite. I’d expected to be hustled along, thrust into a cage and to tell the truth, I’d very quietly tried to prepare myself mentally for rape. It wouldn’t be the first time I’d been caught by a soldier. My heart was pounding and my mouth was dry when they opened Rhiannon’s door and asked us to come with them.
To my astonishment, they bowed. They didn’t even touch me. One spoke, ‘My lady, Bach Chwaer, the White Queen requests your presence at her banquet. We have come to escort you to the hall.’
It wasn’t like we had any kind of choice anyway, so I said, ‘OK,’ and went with them. They didn’t even hustle us. We just walked together to the antechamber beside the banquet hall and I felt like I was a princess again.
And look how that ended.
The guards saw us settled, made sure I had a chair, offered me a glass of water and apologised because it wasn’t wine. By the time they left I was thoroughly confused.
‘Do they always treat you like this?’ I asked Rhiannon.
She shook her head. ‘Some of them are decent men. But this is… unusual.’
A few moments later Cuchulainn joined us. He was even paler than usual. A nerve jumped in his cheek when he locked eyes with me. ‘Emer, my God, no.’ It was a whisper, not a shout. He came towards me and put his hand on my shoulder. ‘I promise you; it will be all right.’
I shifted away from his hand. ‘That isn’t in your power to promise, Cuchulainn.’
He took a sudden step back like I’d slapped him, his bright eyes going wide. He looked much younger suddenly, and so much like his son I nearly got up, went over to him, nearly put my arm around him so I could whisper that I trusted him to take care of me.
‘Just tell me Lynnevet is being looked after,’ I said. It was a sop to his pride. He could do that at least.
He nodded. ‘She’s with Ronan. He’ll keep her safe.’
It was just as well the guards were right behind him. They wheeled in the cage, still bedecked with flowers and ribbons. It was a pretty thing to go to an execution in.
Again, the guards were oddly deferential. I could see Cuchulainn’s surprise when they opened the door of the cage and bowed to me.
‘My apologies, Bach Chwaer,’ one of the guards said, approaching me. ‘The White Queen insists that you ride in… in this… to the banquet.’
Then Cuchulainn was beside me, holding out his hand. ‘May I have the honour of escorting you, your highness?’ he asked.
I took his hand and tried not to notice the calculating expression that crossed his face. I let him assist me into the cage. I took up a position near the door of the cage after it was closed, holding onto a bar with one hand to keep my balance after the cage started rolling towards the banquet hall. Rhiannon positioned herself as far from the door as possible.
Again, the festivities were in full swing and even without insect eyes, it was hard to take it all in at once. The Fool was breathing fire again. When he saw the cart rumble in, he put down his tankard of what wasn’t wine, catching my eye on him and winking at me.
He was just in time. Aoife rang her little bell the moment we entered the room
‘Welcome! Welcome!’ she cried. She rose to her feet and stalked around the table. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, we are honoured today! As you can see – we have a new guest.’ She pointed both her arms at me like she was waiting for an embrace. ‘Does anyone know who she is?’ She walked to the cage and put her face close against the bars, still turned towards the guests. ‘Does she remind you of anyone?’
Cuchulainn answered. ‘She looks like you and like your esteemed sister,’ he said in a loud voice that carried to every ear in the room, even the ears of the mice in the rafters. ‘She looks like you, only younger and more beautiful.’
Aoife turned to present him with a snarl as the whole room giggled. I leaned forward and she leaned back in a hurry. ‘Don’t put your face too close to the bars,’ I whispered, like Cuchulainn, making sure it was a whisper it could be heard all through the room. ‘I might rip it off, like I did last time.’ I smiled, showing all my teeth.
Aoife backed away from the cage, a sour expression on her face. Apparently, none of this was going to plan. Given that she already knew me and Cuchulainn, I don’t know why she was surprised. She went into the middle of the dance floor.
‘Oh, yes, we have a clever guest tonight and she has a very clever champion who has never learned how to keep his famous mouth shut. Ladies and gentlemen, welcome our newest guest, the famous Bach Chwaer!’
I’d seen this reaction once before, the first time the Empress had presented me to her courtiers, in a room much like this one, when she named me her heir. Everyone gasped, inhaled so sharply I half expected to see the candle flames flicker.
I realised something Aoife hadn’t. Her position wasn’t as secure as she thought. I was a danger to her and that was why the creepyguardians had kept me hidden my whole life, so that she didn’t realise it.
The Empress had ruled the Thousand Counties before Aoife. She had raised Aoife and Aine from the day of their birth when their mother died. Aoife was always her favourite and had been the official heir to the throne until I’d appeared at court twenty years ago. The Empress had then named me her heir.
At some point in the future, I would go back in time again and others would go with me but there was a trick to knowing how to exit the stream of time at the right point. Most of my companions would arrive much further back in time than I would. Rhiannon would arrive in the past of 40 years ago. Kiaran would arrive a hundred years ago and join the Librarians at the height of their power before the fall of Cairnagorn. Elisabeth would go with me into the past, too, but she went back the furthest, back three hundred years to the time when the Thousand Counties first became an Empire.
And Elisabeth became the Empress. No wonder she’d chosen me as her heir.
So now, even though Aoife had been Queen of the Meistri for the last twenty years, she was only Queen because I hadn’t claimed my right to rule. I was the rightful heir to the throne.
The thought ran through me like hot water. I had the right to rule, the right to be Queen. And what’s more, I’d made a deep impression on the people. I’d disappeared from Meistria for three weeks and returned to them with Umbra in my hand. I’d defended them against a dragon. I’d stood before the Camiri who spent their lives in slavery and only achieved their freedom shortly after I arrived. The Camiri had seen at once that I was beloved of their leader, Caradoc. I’d brought the people together in a way that had never happened before.
Thankfully, none of that was dependent on my sparkling personality.
Then I’d come back to my own time; as far as they were concerned I’d disappeared into thin air. The rumour had grown that the Bach Chwaer – that I – would return in the time of Meistria’s greatest need. I’d grown up with these legends, never guessing that they were about me.
I may not be very lovable, but people loved m
e. They loved the idea of me. They hoped for me, waited for me. Maybe I could do more tonight than just kill Aoife. I could take away everything she’d ever worked for first.
Once the crowd had drawn in a deep, communal breath, they held it in silence. I looked from face to face. I could have them if I wanted. All I had to do was say the word and Aoife would find herself alone.
That sort of thing gives a girl confidence.
And a certain amount of fear. If Aoife knew I was a threat to her what would stop her from killing me?
Unfortunately, Cuchulainn hadn’t thought it through so far. He raised his voice. ‘Hail the Bach Chwaer!’ he cried. The next thing I knew he was kneeling at my feet. ‘All that I am is yours, O Lady. May my every breath and every action serve you.’
Before I had a chance to catch my own breath, he wasn’t alone. The guard who had spoken to me earlier strode forward to kneel beside Caradoc. He laid his hand on his heart and looked up at me with hope for the salvation of the world in his eyes. ‘Hail the Bach Chwaer!’ he said in a ringing voice. ‘I will serve you all my life.’
And then the Fool joined them. In his ridiculous outfit I hadn’t really gotten a good look at him, but now he was so close to me and he’d taken the silly expression off his face I realised that I’d seen him before.
Aoife’s Fool was no fool. This man was a creepyguardian. A Librarian.
‘I have served you all my life, O Lady,’ he murmured. ‘I will continue to serve you all your days.’
Aoife shrieked in rage. She raised her wand.
But she wasn’t the only mage in the room. Even as the lightning arced from Aoife’s wand, I raised my hand to focus Umbra’s power. The men kneeling before me turned and jumped to their feet. The guard drew his sword. Cuchulainn threw up his arm to create an invisible shield, directing the lightning around us to earth. The Fool sent lightning back in return.
Aoife’s mages came to her aid as the courtiers screamed and tried to hide behind the tables. Lightning flashed back and forth across the room as we tried to head for the door. One of the soldiers who attacked us lost his health and his sword to Cuchulainn, who now lay about him ferociously with the sword in his right hand while he cast magic from his left. More magi poured into the hall as a bell began to toll somewhere close. There must have been dozens of magi, dozens of guards, pressing close to attack us.
There were so many of them and only five of us, Rhiannon a terrified grey blur clinging to the back of my belt, but Cuchulainn and the Fool were powerful magi, even without wands. I was powerful in my own right but when I had Umbra on my side, I was practically invincible.
The magic flowing through me was intoxicating, like a fire in my veins. They couldn’t stop us. We edged slowly towards the door, decimating the White Queen’s magi. Aoife turned tail and ran away.
Without thinking, I ran after her. Cuchulainn grabbed me by the back of my shirt at the last moment and dragged me back.
‘Let me go!’ I shouted. ‘I want to kill her myself!’
‘Forget her!’ he shouted back.
‘To hell with you!’ I managed to jerk myself free and started to run after Aoife again.
‘Stop her!’ the Fool cried. ‘She’s getting away!’
Hearing a creepyguardian shout for me to be restrained nearly made me lose my mind. Everything faded away and suddenly it was like I was a little girl again. Unlike that little girl, though, adult Emer knew what terrors lay in store for her in the custody of the creepyguardians. Nothing he could have said would have made me run faster.
There was magic flying all around me, whipping up the wind so much it was circling like a tornado. The wall of raging winds picked up everything in its path; food, cutlery, weapons, even Magi, until it was a wall of shining silver.
The Fool was still shouting, but I would have run over a cliff if I’d had to, just to escape that voice and all the fears that had ever overwhelmed me.
I barely heard the clang of the sword as Cuchulainn threw it away to run after me. For an old man, he was fast ‒ for an old man, he was strong. He caught me around the middle and lifted me clear off the floor. I kicked and screamed, but he still ran towards the door of the Great Hall, holding me tucked against him. I raked my nails down his face. He pulled his head back and stumbled for a moment, his features drawing into a snarl, but he kept running.
The Fool was standing by the door, gesturing with one hand for us to hurry and pass through. With the other hand, he was directing the flow of wind away from the door so that we wouldn’t be torn to shreds as we escaped.
Cuchulainn ran through the door and only set me on my feet again once we were through. He grabbed me by the shoulder and shouted, ‘Will you see sense now?’
I nodded, tears streaming down my face that I didn’t remember crying. One side of his face was smeared with blood. He caught me in a fierce embrace that lasted less than a moment and caught my hand in his.
The five of us ran towards the bailey. We made it outside, into the torchlight and moonlight.
A noise thundered across the bailey, so loud that the ground shook beneath my feet. I couldn’t help but cower. I’d learned all my life to fear that sound.
It was a dragon. He trumpeted as his massive claws thumped into the ground before us. The noise was amplified as another dragon landed beside him. I looked up. Above us, there must have been a hundred dragons circling in the night sky above the spire.
And then Aoife was there. She was dragging something, someone. A featherskin. A featherskin slim to the point of being emaciated, the bones practically visible beneath the feathers.
‘If you don’t stop right now, Emer, I will snap your sister’s neck!’ Aoife shouted.
I stared. That slim form, I knew it. I knew the shape of the person beneath the feathers. I knew how they cowered. I recognised even the scent of her fear. My heart started to pound even faster as Aoife tightened her grip on what might be ‒ oh, God, please ‒ Elisabeth.
I would have screamed, but there was a rope tightening around my neck now and there was no more air in the world.
When I came to ‒ which I hadn’t thought was going to happen ‒ I was in a cage with the others, hanging over the space between spires, Aoife’s gloating laughter in our ears.
Chapter Fifteen
My vision was blurry, my mind was blurry ‒ for a moment before I realised that the soft, feathered form that held me and leaned over me in the bright moonlight was Elisabeth. ‘Oh, Sparrow, look at your feathers!’ I cried, putting my hand up to stroke the feathers on her face.
Sparrow laughed. Her voice was rich and low and the sound of it enveloped me. ‘Hawk, what else would a Sparrow wear?’
I meant to laugh, but it came out as a moan. Reaching up to touch her face sent a bolt of pain through me. I cried out and, turning to hide my face in Sparrow’s feathers, I wept.
I couldn’t see anything, but I felt the warmth. I turned to look‒ Cuchulainn’s healing magic felt like Caradoc’s had, as I’d had chance to learn. Caradoc had saved my life before.
‘He saved your life,’ Sparrow said softly, stroking back the hair where it had fallen across my face. ‘I can’t use my magic with all these feathers on me and Gwydion can’t heal. We’re lucky it’s a full moon and we’re outside. We managed to gain enough strength for him to heal you.’
I looked over at Gwydion, sitting across the cage with his legs drawn up. He waved and flashed me an echo of his boyish grin. ‘Hi,’ he said. ‘I’m Gwydion.’
I would have laughed if I’d had the extra air. I’d gone under a different name when I’d known him. My own name had become famous and Gwydion was the son of the enemy King. I’d pretended to be Aoife. I wondered if he’d said anything to her when he was taken prisoner.
‘We’ve met,’ I said, my voice rough with pain, even as it eased. ‘Many years ago.’ Now I did laugh, because the whole thing was so damned ridiculous, but the sound didn’t come out right. In a voice that cracked less and less, I tried to
convince him that not only had I, a nineteen-year-old, been his prisoner and masqueraded as his sister, I was also his niece, which explained why Aine and I had looked enough alike to pass for twins.
Cuchulainn didn’t look surprised. By the time I was finished talking, he was also finished healing and sitting back on his heels beside me. I reached out to touch his knee and he jerked away, masking the sudden movement by going to sit beside Gwydion.
‘I think I met your son,’ I said to Cuchulainn. Despite myself, my voice softened. ‘You must have been so proud of him. He was…’ my voice trailed off because I’d never described my feelings for Caradoc before, not even to myself. ‘He was so brave and so kind.’ I squeezed my Sparrow’s hand, so glad that I could tell her about Caradoc. ‘I wore feathers for a while, too, and Caradoc was kind, even to a featherskin.’
‘He sounds special,’ she said softly.
‘He was so special,’ I whispered back. ‘I wish you could have known him, Sparrow. He was the gentlest man I’d ever met. He was so patient with me.’
‘Very special,’ Sparrow said. She smoothed my hair. ‘Where is he now, Emer? A man like that… he sounds like he loved you enough to wait for you, no matter how long it took.’
‘Yes!’ I turned my head. I hadn’t expected Cuchulainn to contribute to this conversation. I caught sight of an intense look on his face before he looked away.
‘What was that?’ I asked, startled out of my tears.
‘He would wait,’ Cuchulainn said and hearing his voice, so similar to his son’s, nearly made me break my heart.
‘How would you know?’ I asked. ‘He told me he was taken from his family when he was only four years old.’
‘He found us. Before the war. I ‒ I’m not surprised he didn’t tell you. Back then… those were dark days. He was a dreamer, always thinking there’d come a time when he’d wake up to a better world. His sister ‒ she was far more practical, not that it did her any good in the long run.’ He laughed, but it wasn’t funny. ‘Didn’t do her any good in the short run, either.’