Nooa leaped up. “Are we really going to follow them?”
“It is the best chance we have to save not only Kayla but our court too,” Oilibhéar said. He sounded determined, but he didn’t move to follow, and instead he locked eyes with Fay, as if waiting for her approval.
“And put Kayla’s life at risk?” Fay said. No matter how much the idea repelled her, she couldn’t deny this might be the only way to find the Unseelies’ secret hiding. And by doing that, they might secure the Seelie Court’s future. Fay wouldn’t have to become the Seelie Princess and Kayla would no longer be the girl who united both courts.
“We’re only doing this under one condition,” Fay said, fixating her gaze on Oilibhéar. “As soon as we get a glimpse of the Unseelie Court’s approximate location, we attack. We cannot let Kayla enter the court. Because if she does, we will all have to face Titania.”
29
THE UNSEELIE COURT
Blazing morning light blinded Kayla as soon as they stepped out of the Faery Path. She blinked to get the dancing spots out of her eyes, and when her vision cleared, she saw they were standing on the ledge of a mountain. Far below them was barren land, miles of rock, sand, and dust, and the only green spot was a patch of trees on the horizon.
“I bet that’s not the glorious Tír na nÓg you’re used to,” Ciarán scoffed, tightening his grip on Kayla’s arm and yanking her forward. They were walking toward an expanse of weathered stone that rose so high that Kayla couldn’t even make out the mountain’s peak. Their surroundings were eerily calm.
Until a low rumble shook the ground.
“What was that?” Kayla tried to twist her head back, but Ciarán forced her to keep walking.
“Nothing you should worry about,” he said. Then he stopped at the side of the mountain where a man in the same charcoal armor greeted them with a nod. The guard tapped the hilt of his sword to the rock and, with a grinding noise, a secret door slid open.
The tight grip on Kayla loosened, but there was no time to act; now Rhona pushed Kayla forward. “Don’t be shy.”
Kayla stumbled, cursing out loud.
A narrow tunnel led them into the mountain. It was dimly lit by the light of a lantern Rhona had picked up at the entrance. Other than the Faery Lights, this one was dark-blue and added a ghostly glow to the inside of the mountain.
It reminded Kayla too much of the treacherous will-o’-the-wisp.
As they climbed the rocky stairs, Kayla heard another low, distant rumble, as if something enormous dragged itself through the mountain. On the top of the stairs, the path split: on one side, another set of stairs led up into darkness; on the other, the tunnel opened onto a wide cave. It was crowded with faeries, men and women alike, talking and laughing, and for a second Kayla mistook them for the faeries she knew. But looking closer, she could see they weren’t Seelies. Their eyes were bloodshot, their faces pale after years of living underground, and their hair was dull and dirty.
“Stop stalling.” Ciarán pushed her forward.
Halfway up the stairs, a faerie boy passed them. He wore a pair of ragged woolen pants and a loose shirt the color of a dank puddle. His brown eyes, freckled with amber, were huge in his sunken face, but when they settled on Kayla, he smiled a crooked smile, reminding her of Theo.
No one else passed them as they made their way further into the mountain. Kayla’s heart pounded so fast against her ribcage she feared it was audible. She didn’t want them to know she was afraid. She wanted them to know she would stop at nothing to save her father.
Once they’d reached the top of the stairs, Rhona pushed Kayla over one last step. She staggered into a vast cave filled with the tiniest bit of daylight spilling in through cracks in the rock. It illuminated the concrete floor all the way to the far end, where the jagged rock formed a throne. Blackthorn wound around it as if it had once been roses. The seat was empty, and someone lay unconscious in front of it.
Kayla realized in an instant it wasn’t her father. Her mind flooded with relief, but only until she recognized the huddled figure on the ground.
“Abby!”
She dashed forward before anyone could hold her back and sank to her knees, her hands running up and down Abby’s body. Her jeans and shirt were torn, her skin icy to the touch, and there was a deep bruise along her jawline. Kayla shook her gently, whispered her name over and over, but Abby didn’t respond. She was so pale and cold, her lips slightly blue. Kayla’s hands trembled where she had laid them on Abby’s.
“What have you done?” Kayla cried. She placed a hand on Abby’s cheek and leaned in. “I’m so sorry, Abs. So, so sorry.”
“She will be fine.”
The voice was silky and cold, like a bucket of ice water tipped down Kayla’s spine. Kayla could hear the shuffle of fabric and see the movement from the corner of her eyes, but she didn’t dare look up. Not until the queen had sat on her throne.
Shuddering, Kayla lifted her head. Clear blue eyes stared down at her from a pale face framed by sleek jet-black hair. A dark crown resembling two long horns rested on her head, and her hands were neatly folded in her lap, atop her deep-blue gown.
The Unseelie Queen pulled her lips into a grin.
“Welcome home, Keília.”
Fay came out of the Faery Path first. Her eyes left Kayla and the two knights for a second to take in the changed scenery. They were still in Tír na nÓg, but nowhere near the land’s more pleasant parts.
“Do you have any idea where we are?” she asked as the other three stepped out into the broad daylight behind her. Nooa shielded his face with a hand and Maeve squinted against the sun.
“We are at the Giant’s Mound,” Oilibhéar said. “In the far north of Tír na nÓg. The only thing that lies beyond this point is Uffern. And trust me, no one has ever come back from there.” He inched along the rocky wall, peeking around a corner. Then he indicated for them to wait.
“Giant’s Mound, you said?” Nooa asked with a tremor in his voice. He was clutching the dagger Fay had given him so tightly that his knuckles turned white. “As in the story of Tegid Foel?”
“That would be the one.”
Fay sidled past Oilibhéar, her eyes again riveted on Kayla, who the knights ushered toward the side of the mountain. She drew her sword. “We need to attack now or—”
The ground trembled with a low rumble and Fay stumbled back, falling against a rock. Once the tremor had calmed, Fay regained her balance and realized Kayla and the Unseelies had nearly reached the entrance to the court.
“Oilibhéar! Now!” Fay didn’t wait for his response as she leaped out from her hiding spot, her hands tight on the hilt of a stolen Nori blade, and ran after Kayla. Her lips formed to shout the girl’s name, but the sound never left her throat.
“Fay! Watch out!” Nooa called.
Fay skidded to a halt as a hideous creature landed before her. It was six feet tall and grizzled, with a misshapen body and a bulbous nose. Black eyes glared at Fay from under its fur as it lifted a hand the size of a bear’s paw. There was barely enough time for Fay to direct her weapon at the beast.
An arrow hissed over Fay’s head and pierced the creature’s hand with a thud. The creature wailed and staggered back—a short respite in which Fay’s friends caught up to her.
“W-What is that?” she asked in between breaths.
“A boggart,” Oilibhéar said. “Nasty little beasts. And they never come alone.”
As he drew his sword, two more boggarts crawled up on the precipice, dragging their enormous bodies toward the group. Maeve fired another arrow that hit home in the first boggart. It recoiled, slipped on a stone, and fell. Its moans grew quieter until they died completely.
The remaining two creatures spun at them with glaring eyes, uttering deep, angry growls. Maeve and Oilibhéar dashed forward, Oilibhéar wielding his blade, and Maeve releasing a series of arrows.
“Fay…” Nooa placed a hand on her shoulder. A strand of charcoal hair had fallen into hi
s silver-gray eyes, which were wide with terror.
She shrugged his hand off. “Kayla is in there, Nooa. She’s in the court. The queen… We don’t know what she’ll do to her.”
There was a sickening cry and Fay saw Oilibhéar pull a blood-sleeked sword out of a boggart’s flesh. The other boggart snapped the arrows that protruded from his body as if they were twigs and advanced on Maeve.
Fay kicked off her feet, hurtled through the air, and landed on the boggart’s back. Gripping the hilt of her sword tight, she brought the blade down in its neck before it could shake her off. Blood splattered Fay’s face, and the beast cried as it squirmed and writhed under her. She yanked hard at her weapon and fell off the boggart’s back, catching her fall in a roll.
When she got back up, Oilibhéar was shoving his boggart over the cliff with one final kick. Then he ran over to Maeve and together they fended off the last boggart. All that was left of the beasts were their tormented cries followed by the quiet as they met their death on the ground.
With heaving breaths, Maeve dragged herself back to where Fay had fallen. Although her pants were ripped at her knees and a shallow cut ran along her upper arm, her lips twitched up into a faint smile. “Totally won this battle,” she said, trying none too hard to hide her excitement.
“Yeah.”
The mountain trembled again, more ferociously this time, and Fay clasped Maeve’s arm for support.
“Looks like there’s more,” Maeve said. All of a sudden, the sun was swallowed by an enormous shadow, though the sky was clear.
At the sound of deafening footsteps, Fay and Maeve swiveled around and gasped as a giant climbed over the rocks, every pebble shivering under his enormous feet. His head was bald and hideous, with many bruises and cuts, and his body was like a human’s, but grotesquely pulled into a larger shape. He kept coming closer, little parts of rock breaking away under his massive limbs.
Tegid Foel jerked to a halt when a soft, sweet tune filled the air. His fat, ugly head tilted to the side, to where Nooa stood, playing on his flute. Eyes closed, Nooa let his fingers glide over the flute, producing the sweetest melody Fay had ever heard.
It was the song of the forest at the end of the night, on the brink of a new day, when chirping birds returned from their nests and dew trickled from the flowers and plants onto the damp grass. When the sun inched higher and higher over the horizon, but didn’t reach every corner of the forest yet, and everything was calm and peaceful.
The tune snapped like a broken record, and with a groan, the giant woke from his trance.
Oilibhéar surged forward. “Nooa!” he cried.
But it was too late.
30
MEMORIES
The cave was so silent that Kayla’s own breath was like thunder in her ears. She could sense the two knights, Rhona and Ciarán, behind her. Another knight had come in through the right, but Kayla barely saw him in the shadows.
Her gaze was focused on the Unseelie Queen. She’d called her Keília, pronounced it the way Amhrán had written it in her letter. Somehow, she knew.
“What have you done to her?” Kayla asked, a slight quiver in her voice. “She’s got nothing to do with this!”
Titania didn’t respond. As she rose from her throne, a pair of gossamer wings spread from her back. They were gray and laced with fine, spidery lines of the same shocking blue as her eyes. It startled Kayla how little the queen resembled her own sister. While Ophira was pure, fair-skinned, with hair like liquid gold, Titania was dark and terrifying. She had the destructive beauty that could burn down the world with a smile.
The Unseelie Queen strode up to Kayla and Abby. In the broken daylight creeping in through the cracks in the stone, the complexion of her skin looked as gray and dull as the inside of the mountain. “I have no intention of harming your little friend just yet,” she said. “But I will hurt her if you do not agree to stay with me.”
“Stay?!” Kayla’s voice cracked. She tried to shield Abby from the queen’s vicious glare with her own body. “I’m not staying with you. You’re a murderer!” While she spoke, her fingers searched Abby’s wrist for a pulse. It was still there, but faint.
Titania’s eyes were like tiny pinpricks on Kayla’s skin, crawling up and down her spine.
“Murderer… what a harsh word, don’t you think?” Titania said, scrunching up her nose. “No, that word does not suit me. And once you have learned the truth, you will understand why I did all these things. The lives I took were mere sacrifices for a greater cause. But do not worry. I am here to teach you and protect you.”
Kayla’s throat tightened. The pounding of her heart was loud and frantic in her eardrums, and every nerve in her body itched to get up and punch Titania in the face. But she stayed at Abby’s side, glaring up at the queen. “Why did you bring Abby here? What is it that you want?”
“Your friend does not concern us just yet,” Titania said, her lips pulling into a crooked grin. “I believe you came for someone else?”
Kayla’s eyes narrowed on the queen. “Where is my father?” A tiny voice in her head echoed, which one? She amended, “Where’s Alasdair?”
Titania stopped in front of Kayla. Her face was indecipherable and her blue eyes as cold as solid ice. “I can show you,” she said.
With the flick of her hand, the surroundings changed. The walls of the cave vanished and were replaced by snow-covered streets and trees. The image wasn’t as clear as real life, nor was it as hazy as a dream. It felt close enough to touch, but it was somehow smudged at the edges.
Kayla was still sitting on the ground, entirely alone now. The cold of the snow didn’t touch her. She was rooted to the spot, forced to watch as the scene unfolded in front of her.
Alasdair was in his car, fighting his way home through an awful blizzard. Palm-sized snowflakes whirled through the air, swallowing the headlights. Alasdair slowed down to walking speed, steering the car to the right.
Before he could reach the curb, his car died. He turned the key in the ignition, but the engine gave only a stutter and went silent again.
Cursing under his breath, Alasdair released the seatbelt and leaned over to the passenger seat to look for his phone. He froze as he saw wild moss creeping through a gap in the passenger window. It spread like a wildfire, covering the leather seats in an instant.
Alasdair shrank back. With a bang, the windshield shattered inward, and he lifted his hands to cover his face. Through his fingers, he could see a vine shoot through the hole in the glass, whipping back and forth, whether on its own accord or moved by the roaring wind was hard to tell. It wound around Alasdair’s wrist, jerking hard.
He struggled against the tight grip as a second vine, thick as a branch, came darting in, closing around his other hand. And then there was another one around his neck.
Moss and ivy kept seeping in through every crack and the hole in the windshield. Soon the vines had engulfed him and began dragging him out. He wriggled and writhed, screaming at the top of his lungs. The sound died in the thickness of the vines.
He fell face first into the snow. The wind tore at his hair as he tried to roll onto his back, but he was pinned to the ground. Then the vines fell away at once, slithering back into the ground.
Alasdair staggered to his feet. Before him loomed two figures, their dark hair powdered white with snow. The man was dressed in some sort of armor with a sword clasped in one hand and a blazing torch in another. Beside him stood a woman with flowing black hair and deep blue eyes. Wings fine like a bug’s spread from her shoulders. She was beautiful in the way a storming sea was: something to be admired from a safe distance.
She took a step forward, reached out a hand, and grazed Alasdair’s cheek with her long, cold fingers. “Say, are you the father of a beautiful little girl by the name of Keília?” Her voice was as icy as the blizzard.
He was shivering, his teeth chattering with the cold. “N-No.”
The woman cocked her head to the side. “Liar.” Sh
e slapped him hard across the face. “Speak the truth!”
“No,” he repeated. This time his voice didn’t waver.
Her perfectly round mouth pulled into a grin as she drew a small dagger and pressed it against his throat. “You stupid mortal. She is not yours to keep.”
Alasdair tried not to move. “You can’t have her. Ever.”
“Oh, but I will.” She leaned in closer, a sneer on her lips. “I do not mean to be cruel, so I will give you another chance. Tell me where your daughter is. Now!”
A vein pulsed at her temple, the thin blue line visible through her ivory skin. He could barely swallow with the weapon at his throat.
Then the pressure disappeared. The woman strode up to the car, took the torch from the man in passing, and tossed it through the window. Tongues of fire licked up the seats and down the side of the car.
“You will talk,” she said.
Alasdair drew in a breath and closed his eyes. His face was illuminated by the flames consuming his car, leaving behind nothing but a melted wreck.
The scene evaporated into thin air and then grew solid again. They were inside a cave, grim and dank. Alasdair slumped on the ground, his arms and legs in shackles. His hair, now much longer, was caked with dirt, only partially hiding the scratch marks on his face. His clothes hung loosely on his body.
Titania towered over him, something silver glinting in her hand. “I am asking you one last time. Where is she?” When no response came, she leaned in and sneered, “Either way, I will find her. You are only delaying the inevitable.”
Alasdair lifted his head an inch, moaning. “I’ll never tell you,” he said, his voice hoarse. His entire face was bloody with cuts. “I’d rather die protecting her.”
“As you wish.”
A flash of silver, the thud of a body collapsing.
Seelie Princess (The Crown of Tír na nÓg Book 1) Page 25