“No, Dad!” Kayla cried. She struggled to inch closer, but the ground had a hold on her, grabbing her wrists and ankles. Tears streamed down her face and she cried for her dad, over and over, as he lay dying.
“Daddy!”
A burst of hot energy shot up Kayla’s arms and legs and she tore away from the ground with a guttural cry. She collapsed beside her father and pulled him into her arms. Blood seeped from the cut in his throat, trailing down Kayla’s arms.
She hugged him tighter. “Dad, I’m so sorry… I tried to find you.” Underneath all the dirt and blood, he still smelled the way she remembered, like sandalwood and old books. She rocked him in her arms, like he had rocked her when she was little. “I’m sorry I’m too late, Dad. I’m sorry… Please, I love you.”
His hand reached for hers and she slid her small fingers into his, feeling the warmth drain from his body along with his life. He spoke, so quiet and broken that it came out in a whisper. But Kayla understood. He loved her too.
Somewhere in the distance, a woman screamed.
The scene vanished, but the screaming continued. Kayla only realized that the voice was her own when her throat began to ache.
As her surroundings slid back into focus, she became aware of Abby’s presence again. Her friend’s hands in her own was the only anchor she had. It reminded her of days filled with less pain, of endless nights cuddling in bed and watching a movie, of walking through the city, of the last time they had held hands like this. On the L train that night when Kayla had left Chicago, to finally find her father.
But he was gone. There was no more finding him…
Her body was shaking uncontrollably. She forced her eyes shut, but no matter how hard she closed them, she couldn’t keep the image of her father out. Every cell inside her ached with a terrible pain and she felt as though she was being pulled apart by an immense force.
Dad. Daddy, no… come back to me, please…
She tried to conjure up another image of him. One where he was smiling at her, one where he was still there…
Through the cloud of her pain, Kayla had blocked out everything else. But one voice carried through, slicing through her skin.
“One should not be too fond of humans,” Titania said. “Their lives are so… fragile.”
Kayla’s aching chest exploded with a fresh wave of pain and anger. She jerked her head up to glare at Titania, who perched on her throne. The way she watched Kayla, with an open, curious gaze, was repulsive. Kayla swallowed against the sour taste in her mouth.
“Why—?” she croaked, wiping some tears off her cheeks. “Why did you do this to him? He didn’t deserve to d-die!” Another sob emerged from her throat.
“I never meant to harm him. If only he had told the truth when I asked the first time…”
“You weren’t supposed to find him,” Kayla said in between tears. “He should have been protected.” But he had died, because he wanted to keep Kayla safe.
“He was foolish,” Titania said. “One time he came too close to the border between the two worlds, and the spell dissipated. I suppose he did me a favor. Otherwise it would have taken much longer to find you, my child.”
Titania leaned back on her throne, her hands folded in her lap. “You see, I have been looking for you for quite some time, but there is a strong spell on you. I could not find you nor your human caretakers. After searching both Tír na nÓg and the mortal world in vain, I was desperate. Then I ventured upon your human father.” She gazed into the distance, her eyes growing vacant. “I had no other choice but to torture and kill him. In the end, he relinquished. That left the matter of not being able to speak to you or touch you. Your humans were still protected too.”
Her eyes settled on Kayla. “But there was somebody else you trusted,” she said. As she waved her hand, an image flickered to life, hovering in the air.
The face of Ms. Pinderhughes smiled down at Kayla. Her usually dull gray eyes gleamed with a fierce blue, a menace that made Kayla’s skin crawl. Those were the same eyes she’d seen years ago, hiding in that bush beside her father’s memorial.
Kayla averted her gaze. She tried not to think of all the times she’d run to the bookshop after an argument with her mother. Ms. Pinderhughes always found the right words to cheer her up and they bonded over their shared interest for fairytales.
Now Kayla knew why.
With a snap of Titania’s fingers, the image evaporated. “No one ever suspects the librarian,” she scoffed. “I was certain you would go to her for help once you found the acorn and she would guide you right to me. But, of course, my sister ruined everything.”
Hot anger flushed Kayla’s cheeks and neck. She pulled the acorn from her pouch and flung it across the room. It landed by Titania’s feet with a quiet thunk. “You tricked me!”
“Do not accuse me of foul trickery,” Titania bellowed, the tips of her wings trembling. “The message I passed on was genuine. It is not my fault that you considered that mortal your true father.”
“Your Unseelies lied,” Kayla hissed. “And don’t tell me they can’t. They said you had something of mine.”
“I do have something you long for,” Titania said. “Answers.”
Kayla glared at Titania, her hands holding on tight to Abby, whose pulse was growing weaker. “Then tell me why you killed my father!”
“Because I had to. He had what was rightfully mine,” Titania said with a sneer. “You were not his to keep.” And the way Titania said it, plain and without the faintest note of remorse, Kayla knew it was what she believed.
“What makes you think I’m yours to keep? You’re out of your mind!”
Titania pulled her thin eyebrows up, tilting her head to one side. For a fleeting moment, it looked as though she genuinely cared for Kayla. “All I ever wanted was to find you,” she said softly.
“You should have just left me the hell alone.” Then her dad might still be alive. And Abby wouldn’t be unconscious in the land of faeries.
“I could not do that.” Titania grimaced, as if the thought of it was hurting her. “Because you and I, we belong to each other. We are of the same blood.”
31
TEGID FOEL
The giant wielded his massive fists like one would a mace, and as he brought them down, chunks of rock hurtled through the air. Fay ducked behind a boulder, pulling Maeve with her.
“Fire! Now!” Fay cried, and Maeve released two arrows in a row. She reached back for another one and froze when she found the quiver empty.
“Oh, for Llyr’s sake,” she muttered. She slung the bow over her shoulder and drew her sword.
Fay’s hands were slippery on the hilt of her stolen Nori blade. “Can you see them?” she asked as she peered over the boulder. Her ears were thrumming with every punch the giant threw at the rock where Nooa had been standing only seconds ago; now there was no sight of him—or Oilibhéar.
“There!” Pointing to the far left, Maeve rounded the boulder and started to run.
Fay chased after her, eyes riveted on the spot Maeve was heading for. Nooa lay collapsed on the ground, Oilibhéar standing protectively over him.
The ground shook as Tegid Foel stomped across the landing. He was working his way closer to Nooa and Oilibhéar, and in all his fury he didn’t notice Maeve flit past one of his tree-trunk-sized legs. As she passed, she slashed at his skin with her sword.
The giant wailed, flinging his arms about and smashing even more rocks. He staggered back, almost stepping on Maeve.
Fay hesitated. Her eyes flicked from an unconscious Nooa to a spinning Maeve. Then her gaze met Oilibhéar’s and, after a curt nod, he lunged forward. He drove his sword into the giant’s other leg while Maeve tried to clamber up its back.
Heart pounding, Fay closed the distance to Nooa, and the gravity of his injury shifted into focus. Blood seeped from a gaping wound along his shin, covering half of his leg.
Fay sank to her knees beside him, touching the back of her hand to one of his cheeks. It was
warm and colored with the faintest hue of pink. “Nooa? Can you hear me?” she said. “You’re going to be okay.” He had to be.
Fay tore her eyes away from Nooa when another thump shook the ground. The giant was flailing his arms and legs at whatever he could get a hold on. He hit rocks, crushing them under his enormous limbs, and it would only be a matter of time until Maeve or Oilibhéar met the same fate.
Scanning the area, Fay glimpsed the furred paw of a boggart hanging on to a ledge. Seconds later, it heaved itself up, groaning and panting, and its black eyes focused on her.
Fay got back to her feet to shield Nooa from the advancing boggart. She wished her hands would be steadier on her sword. Her heart was thundering in her chest, her mind racing with thoughts…
The beast lurched forward and Fay braced herself—but they never met. Fay took a step back as the boggart slumped down, a spear protruding from its neck. Over its dead body Fay saw a group of pookas, all wearing war-paint and all holding swords or spears or bows.
One of them walked toward Fay while the others dispersed, circling the giant from all directions. At first, she didn’t recognize him under the layer of white face paint, but his very distinctive pair of antlers could never hide him.
“Cadfael,” Fay said, bewildered.
He nodded. “Ophira’s daughter. I had never thought to see you here.”
“I am not—” Fay began, but she decided to let it pass. “Why are you here? I mean, how do you even know?”
He stepped up to the dead boggart and yanked his spear out of its neck, wiping it on the beast’s grizzled fur. The weapon’s colorful feathers weren’t the least bit ruffled. “We have had an eye on the Giant’s Mound for some time now,” he said, scanning the area. “Is your queen with you?”
“No, I am here on my own terms,” Fay said. Cadfael might have raised an eyebrow at her, but it was hard to tell underneath the face paint. “So you knew the Unseelie Court was inside this mountain all along?”
“We suspected that they might be in there, but we weren’t sure. Not until now.” He glanced over at his soldiers. Fay saw, with relief, that Maeve had gotten down from the giant’s back. She, her brother, and the pookas were driving Tegid Foel into a corner.
A puddle of the boggart’s blood had formed at Fay’s feet and she shuddered at the sight. In the heat of the battle, she hadn’t hesitated to kill them, but as she was looking at the dead body now, she felt a pang of grief. It wasn’t right that they had killed them. After all, this kingdom belonged to them too.
Fay averted her eyes. “I need to get inside,” she said. “And one of my friends is hurt.” Nooa behind her still hadn’t moved.
“You dare to ask for our aid?”
“I would never do such a thing.”
Cadfael’s black eyes stared down at Fay. “Your people never do.” Anger and pain marked his voice, and it reminded Fay that, even though they shared the same pointed ears and lived in the same kingdom, they were two entirely different people.
“The Seelies and pookas have lived in hostility for a long time,” Fay said. “Now, however, we share a common enemy. I will not beg for your aid. It is not in my nature to do so. Instead, I will kindly ask you to follow my path to face our enemy.”
His response was drowned out when a heart-rending cry echoed off the mountain walls. A pooka was hanging on to the giant’s neck from where blood was flowing. Tegid Foel stumbled against the mountainside, causing a minor earthquake.
“Your men should not kill him,” Fay said. “Legend says that Tegid Foel has been living here even before the Fair Folk settled.”
“He should not fight a war he did not start,” Cadfael agreed. He watched his men for a second, his expression indecipherable underneath all the face paint, before he looked back at Fay. “And neither should you. Queen Ophira and I might not see eye to eye, but something tells me you do not agree with her, either.”
Fay loosened her hold on the sword a bit. “You will come with us, then?”
“As you said, we share an enemy now,” Cadfael said. He gave a low, throaty noise that sounded much like a deer’s and one of his man sprang away from the giant. “Sólas is one of my most trusted warriors. He will not leave your side until you and your friends are safe.”
Sólas bowed his head to Fay. His coppery blond hair looked even brighter in contrast to his white face paint.
“What is the plan?” Fay asked.
Cadfael smirked. “We will convince one of the Unseelie guards to let us in.” Before Fay could ask him to elaborate, he had turned toward his men, lifting his spear up high. “Tegid Foel shall live! Tonight, we will conquer the Unseelie Court!”
The pookas roared and whistle as they bolted forward, Cadfael in the lead. Fay didn’t move.
Roused by the tumult, Maeve and Oilibhéar glanced at Fay, and when they saw she was now alone with a still unconscious Nooa, they came running to her. The four remaining pookas kept back the bruised and bloody giant.
“What are the pookas doing here?” Maeve asked. She wiped sweat and blood from her chin, while Oilibhéar sank down beside Nooa.
“Someone needs to stay with him,” he said, brushing Nooa’s hair from his face. “I think it should be me.” His own hair had come loose from his braid, and his breastplate had a few dents and scratches.
“I don’t want to leave him,” Fay said quietly.
“But Kayla is in there. Nooa will understand.” Oilibhéar turned to his sister with a fleeting smile. “Time to be brave.”
Maeve reached out a hand to touch Nooa’s. “Take care of him for me, big brother,” she said and ran after the pookas.
Fay cast another glance at Nooa and her stomach clenched. Grabbing her sword’s hilt tighter, she turned away and followed Maeve. The pookas had already reached the large stone slab where Kayla had disappeared, circling the Unseelie that stood guard there.
Throughout her life, Fay had been terrified two times: the day her mother died and the day her father stopped loving her. She had learned then that fear was weakness, and she wouldn’t survive if she was being weak.
As she approached the Unseelie Court in quick strides, weapon clasped in her hand, she didn’t feel fear. This time, she didn’t have to act strong.
This time, she was strong for someone else.
32
EVIL BLOOD
Silence had fallen over the throne room. Kayla stared at the queen and her cold, unmoving eyes. They were blue, like the water of a lake in the winter about to freeze. Titania’s hair was black like Kayla’s, her lips round and full, her nose straight. So were Kayla’s lips and nose.
But it couldn’t be true.
“You’re not my blood,” Kayla said.
Titania looked at her almost pitifully. “Oh, but I am.”
“You can’t be…” Kayla trailed off.
“Once you hear the truth, you will understand.” Titania rose to her feet, pacing a few steps. “Many seasons ago, the king of Tír na nÓg took a special interest in my mother. She was one of the Wild Fae, scorned by the Seelie Court for a petty theft she’d committed when she was still a child. She had been banished ever since. The king did not mind, but his people did. So my mother was not allowed to live with him at the court, but I could, as his bastard child.” She paused, staring off into the distance for a second, before snapping out of her thoughts with a shake of her head.
“My father never stopped loving her, so he went back to see her a second time. However, he was unaware that when he left her again, she was pregnant with my brother Lasarian. But my father, that fool.” She gave a derisive snort and continued to pace.
“He chose that other woman over my mother and never went back to her ever again. Naturally, I never knew of my brother’s existence, either, until I had finally left my father behind. One of my faeries met my brother and she saw the resemblance. She told me of him and brought me to meet him, in the Dark Forest, where he was hiding. He was living like an animal with all the other outcasts fr
om the Seelie Court. This I could not tolerate. The Seelies had taken so much from me. They could not torture my brother too. I offered him to become one of my Unseelies, to rule alongside me as the king of this court. He would no longer need to live with the blood of the Seelies coursing through his veins. As an Unseelie, he could sever the last tie that bound him to the people that had abandoned him. He said he would need to consider my offer. I should leave my servant with him and he would send her to me with his answer.”
Titania came to a rest before Kayla, looking straight down at her. “When my servant returned to me, I found she was pregnant. A love child between a Seelie and an Unseelie.” The corner of her mouth quivered. “And you, dear Keília, are that child. Your mother Amhrán was my servant. And my brother Lasarian is your father.”
Kayla’s grip slipped from Abby’s cold wrist. “No. You’re lying.”
It had to be a lie or at least some twisted truth. Because Kayla couldn’t be part Unseelie—she’d lived in the Seelie Court. No Unseelie could even enter the court, and those who had been brought into it had suffered an excruciating pain. Death was their only salvation. Fay and the others told her about that, back in Chicago.
“I am never mistaken,” Titania said with a growl. “I know when I see my own blood. But if you still doubt my words, then I will prove them to you. Ciarán.” She gestured the knight to come closer, and he stepped up to his queen, put aside his sword, and unclasped his breastplate.
Kayla watched as he lifted the plate off his chest and revealed a mark underneath his collarbone, etched deep into his skin. It was a mark she recognized in an instant: a set of four straight black lines, one of them longer than the others.
The malicious grin on Ciarán’s face as he put his breastplate back on drove hot needles into Kayla’s skin. He picked his sword back up. “The raven’s footprint,” he said. “Or, to be more precise, the Unseelie Mark.”
Titania brushed aside the fabric of her own dress, and there it was, the mark. “And you have it too,” she said. “Ever since you were born to an Unseelie.”
Seelie Princess (The Crown of Tír na nÓg Book 1) Page 26