“I doubt that,” muttered Cassie.
Tarian arched an eyebrow. “It’s not all one way. If a servant falls ill, it’s the duty of his lord or lady to cast a healing spell.”
How generous. But it was obvious they weren’t going to agree on the merits or otherwise of serfdom, so Cassie let the matter drop. “How far is this manor house?” she asked.
“Not far now, according to the dogs.”
They rode on in silence, Cassie’s eyes roaming while her mind wondered what awaited them. Tarian had said James Farley’s circumstances were bad. Being mortal must put him at the bottom in the pecking order. In light of their discussion about how lesser Fae lived, what did that mean?
A walled estate came into view, and Cassie’s eye was drawn to the large, stone manor house within. To its side and rear lay a complex of barns and outbuildings, and she could see a horse being led to what must be the stables.
Tarian turned in at the front gate. A servant scything the long grass in front of the house stopped work and stared at them.
“Aren’t we going to sneak round the back?” asked Cassie. She hadn’t expected a frontal attack.
“Best not to sneak up on Fae,” said Tarian. “They know you’re there, and it tends to antagonise them.”
She halted the stallion by an arched stone porch, slid off, and reached up to help Cassie down. Cassie groaned with relief as she massaged the ache from her backside. The servant dropped his scythe and hurried towards them, but Tarian waved him away. With a shrug he returned to his work.
While Tarian told the dogs to wait on the porch and stay alert, the horses wandered over to a pile of freshly cut grass and began to graze.
“So what are we going to do?” asked Cassie. “Ask the kidnappers to give James back? I thought you said that wouldn’t work.”
Tarian arched an eyebrow at her tone, but said merely, “I intend to bargain.”
“With what?”
“You’ll see.”
While the dogs made themselves comfortable on the benches that lined both sides of the porch, Tarian crossed to the small door within the larger one. Before she could lift the knocker, the door opened, revealing a livery-clad Fae with a drooping black moustache.
The bunch of keys hanging from his belt jingled as he bowed then straightened and stepped back. “Enter. I am Puw, steward here. My master is expecting you.”
Expecting? Cassie felt as if she’d been kicked in the stomach, and Tarian’s face was suddenly still. They exchanged a glance and followed him inside.
A blast of heat struck her cheeks. It was coming from a huge oven. They were in a kitchen, she saw. At one table, two red-faced women were scraping and chopping vegetables while a third made pastry. At another, a sweating man with massive shoulders was jointing a side of venison with a cleaver.
The steward threw Cassie an impatient glance over his shoulder, and she hurried to catch up. A wooden screen separated the kitchen from the next room, which proved to be a large hall with a high-timbered ceiling. Though the hall was draughty, a haze of blue smoke hung in the air, its source the huge central hearth.
He led them past servants, trestle tables, and hearth towards a raised dais at the far end. On it were placed two ornately carved chairs, and in them sat the lord and lady of the manor, watching their progress with hooded eyes. At their feet lounged a pair of wolfhounds.
Tarian sighed.
“Do you know them?” whispered Cassie. A magnificent ankle-length gown—red silk, bound with a golden girdle—showed the woman’s figure to good effect. The man was thickly bearded; his black tunic and breeches highlighted the gold torque around his neck.
“Angor and Ysbail,” said Tarian. “They’re distantly related to the royal bloodline. If they hadn’t fallen from favour, they wouldn’t be living in the back of beyond.”
“What did they do?”
“Had ambitions above their station. Mab’s father had to slap them down.”
They halted in front of the seated pair. The woman was beautiful in a rather blowsy way. Her dark eyes were watchful, her full lips pressed together in what Cassie took to be disapproval. The steward bowed and backed away.
“Tarian.” The seated man looked down his hawk nose at her. “What a pleasant surprise.” It was obvious he thought the opposite. “Welcome.”
Tarian bowed her head. “Angor.” She inclined her head to his companion. “Ysbail. Well met.” She gestured. “May I introduce my companion? Cassie Lewis.”
Cassie wasn’t sure whether to curtsey or bow so she restricted herself to a nod and a smile. “Pleased to meet you.”
Angor didn’t return her greeting. “You keep company with mortals?”
“I do,” said Tarian. “And she is under my protection.”
After a moment he shrugged. “Very well.”
Tarian made a show of looking around for somewhere to sit. “Are guests not permitted to conduct their business with you in comfort?”
Ysbail flushed at the implied slight and beckoned a servant over. Moments later two more chairs had been brought.
Tarian sat and waited until Cassie had done the same, before saying, in a conversational tone, “You were expecting us, I gather.”
Angor gestured at the wolfhounds lying at his feet. “Did you think my dogs would be unaware of yours?”
“It was a risk,” agreed Tarian, provoking a pang of guilt in Cassie.
A risk I made you run.
“Now here you are in person.” He drew himself up in his chair. “You mentioned business dealings. Well?”
Tarian nodded and pulled out the changeling doll. “Yours, I believe.”
Chapter 9
It was just as well she had put a protection spell on the doll, thought Tarian, as Ysbail cast a surreptitious spell. When the crude wooden artefact remained intact, a flash of unease crossed Ysbail’s face, gone as quickly as it had appeared.
Angor threw his wife a warning glance before turning back to Tarian. “You’re mistaken. That vile thing has nothing to do with us.”
“Why then did your wife just try to destroy it?”
For a moment he was at a loss, but he recovered quickly. “You know as well as I that our present Queen outlawed such things. My wife was but abiding by the law.”
Tarian arched an eyebrow. “I thought you might plead ignorance, living on the outskirts of Faerie as you do. You knew of Mab’s decree, yet you created and used a changeling?”
With a show of indignation, he rose to his feet. “Who says so? Point him out and I’ll rip out his lying tongue.” He paused. “Or is it you who slanders me?”
Cassie shifted in her chair, and Tarian threw her a reassuring glance. Angor’s bluster didn’t scare her.
“Perhaps you are unaware, my lord, that when a changeling doll is created, a bond links it to its maker.” She cocked her head. “Or perhaps you knew but thought that the trail would fade with time. It didn’t. And it led me to you.”
Was that panic in his eyes?
“So you say. But of what value is the word of an exile? Oh yes.” He scanned the watching faces of his retainers and servants, who had edged closer, eager to hear what was going on. “We may be on the outskirts, but we still hear tidings. Tarian daughter of Brangwen daughter of Eyslk, the Queen’s former champion, was exiled and ordered never to return,” his gaze returned to her face, “on pain of her unmaking.”
The resulting silence was so intent Tarian could almost hear Cassie’s heart beating.
“Mab knows you’re here,” he went on, his smile full of malice. “I sent word.”
Cassie sucked in her breath.
“I see.” Tarian kept her voice steady.
A hand slipped itself into hers. “We must leave,” said Cassie urgently.
“Not yet.”
“But if the Queen comes—”
“Hush.” Gently, Tarian extracted her fingers from Cassie’s. “You sent word to the Queen, my lord?” She shook her head in mock pity. “Rash.
Very rash.”
His smile disappeared.
“Never mind what may happen to me. What do you think Mab will do to you and your wife when she learns you broke her edict about changelings?”
“Husband!” Ysbail looked frightened. He shook his head at her, and she fell silent.
“I propose an exchange. This,” Tarian held up the changeling doll, “for the red-haired babe.”
“What babe?”
“Don’t play games, Angor. He’s a man now, that’s true. But he was a babe when you took him from his crib.”
Angor shifted in his seat. “Suppose we had done such a thing?” There was uncertainty in his eyes now. Good. “What concern is it of yours?”
Tarian gave him a smile. “Beyond the natural concern of any good and loyal subject, you mean?”
His lip curled but he nodded.
She let her mask of good humour drop. “Don’t try my patience, Angor. We both know the man is here. Bring him to me. Now.”
He pointed at the doll. “Will you remove the protection spell?”
She nodded.
For a moment more he hesitated, then he beckoned the waiting steward. After a brief conversation, the steward bowed and hurried away.
“I have sent for the pigboy,” said Angor, smoothing his robes.
“Pigboy?” muttered Cassie, indignant. “His name is James.”
“Good,” said Tarian.
A RIPPLE OF laughter and crude comments marked the arrival of the red-haired young man Tarian had last seen eating pig swill. It followed his progress across the hall towards the dais, as did the ripe smell of pigs.
Angor and Ysbail pressed perfumed silk kerchiefs to their noses as his escort, a Fae in a farrier’s apron, jerked him to a halt in front of them and swiped his legs out from under him. “Show some respect for your betters.” The thud of knees on the hard floor made Tarian wince. “The pigboy as requested, my lord,” said the farrier with a bow.
The real James Farley bowed his head and hunched his shoulders. Tremors shook his frame. He was clearly terrified. Cassie made a choking sound in her throat, and Tarian could see that she was distressed on his behalf.
“Well?” Angor gestured towards the doll in Tarian’s hand.
“A moment. I must remove the protection.” She didn’t tell him that she was transferring it to James.
When she had finished, she handed Angor the doll. Seconds later it was a pile of ash. With a grim smile he brushed a stray white flake off his tunic and directed a servant to sweep up the mess.
“Is James ours now?” asked Cassie.
“Yes,” said Tarian.
At that Cassie rose and crouched beside the kneeling man. In spite of the stench and grime, she put her arm round his shoulders and said, “You’re safe now.” From his amazed expression, he had never seen another mortal before. “We’re taking you home,” continued Cassie, smiling encouragement. He turned a baffled glance in Angor’s direction.
“Will you tell him he doesn’t belong to you anymore or shall I?” asked Tarian, annoyed at Angor’s silence. He shrugged.
She stood up and squared her shoulders. “Pigboy.” Her commanding tone hooked James’s wide-eyed attention at once. “Your master has sold you, and now you are mine.” She glanced at Angor. “Is that not so, my lord?”
For a moment she thought he wasn’t going to answer. Then he gave her an ironic smile and inclined his head. “It is so.”
“From now on you will answer to the name James Farley.” James mouthed the name. “Come with me, James.” Tarian beckoned. “Now.”
Her tone brooked no disobedience, and he scrambled to his feet and hurried to her side. Cassie followed.
“Are we leaving now?” she asked Tarian in a low murmur.
“As fast as we can.”
“Good.” Cassie gave the watching Fae a resentful glance. “They’re getting off too easily. Can’t you hide an ill luck attractor somewhere? If anyone deserves a plague of flies, this lot do.”
Tarian stifled a smile. “They’d only destroy it.”
“But they should be punished for what they’ve done.”
“They will be. But not by me.”
Cassie looked a question, but Tarian shook her head. Now was not the time. She gave Angor a half bow. “My business here is concluded, my lord, so I will take my leave of you.” She glanced at Ysbail. “And of you, my lady.”
Ysbail’s dark eyes were malevolent. “I do not think we shall meet again,” she said. “You have left it too late.”
Tarian kept her expression neutral. “You may well be right.”
She turned on her heel and strode towards the exit. And after a moment, Cassie and James followed her.
“WHAT DID SHE mean, ‘left it too late’?” asked Cassie, as Tarian helped her up onto the stallion’s back. “Please tell me she wasn’t talking about Mab.”
“I fear she was.”
The lack of a saddle and reins didn’t daunt James, and he was eager to mount the mare. Anwar and Drysi hadn’t scared him either—he had smiled and petted them. Yet whenever Tarian addressed him he trembled like a leaf. It made a kind of sense, she supposed. Unlike my kind, beasts treat him kindly.
She mounted up behind Cassie, settled her arms around Cassie’s waist, and urged the stallion forward.
Cassie clutched Tarian’s wrist. “I thought you said this place was miles from Mab’s domain.” She sounded tense.
“The Queen is the most powerful of us all,” reminded Tarian. “She can travel hundreds of leagues in seconds.”
Cassie’s grip tightened until it was almost painful. “What are we going to do?”
“Return to the crossing.”
Tarian checked on James’s progress. His expression was dreamy, his lips curved in a half smile. Satisfied, she faced front one more and kneed the stallion into a canter.
THEY WERE GALLOPING past the ruined watchtower when the air above the track ahead began to shimmer. Cassie gasped as an archway appeared out of nowhere. For a moment it remained empty, then through it came four riders.
The first was unknown to Tarian: a herald wearing the livery of Queen Mab and carrying the Queen’s narrow white pennant. After him came three much more familiar figures. Einion was wearing a russet-coloured tunic and breeches, over which he had thrown a cloak of forest green. Cadel’s silver armour was dazzling in the sunlight—purely for show, of course. And bringing up the rear on a magnificent charger was the Queen herself, dressed in a gown of midnight blue with a silver girdle.
Einion’s gaze softened when he saw Tarian, and he gave her a brief, sad smile. The look Cadel threw her was not so friendly, but then, during their last encounter, she had smashed his head to a pulp. As for Mab . . . The Queen’s eyes were unreadable as they met Tarian’s.
Cassie moaned low in her throat.
Tarian instructed the stallion to halt and called the dogs to heel.
“What are you doing?” hissed Cassie, twisting to look at her.
“We cannot escape her. It will only anger her further to try.”
“But—”
“Hush,” said Tarian. “She would use you against me. I won’t risk that.” Her resolve hardened. “Leave Mab to me. And try not to draw attention to yourself.” Whatever happens, I will make sure you and James get back to your own world safely.
She slid off the stallion’s back and turned to help Cassie down. The mare halted too, pawing the ground while her rider sat transfixed by the sight of the proud and beautiful Queen.
“Get down,” Tarian told him. Trembling, James obeyed.
She called the two horses to her and whispered words of release. They startled and tossed their heads as they came back to themselves, and stood, the whites of their eyes showing, taking in their surroundings.
“There, there.” She stroked a quivering flank. “I no longer have need of your services. Accept my grateful thanks and go.”
For a moment longer they stood, eying the dogs, though Anwar and Drys
i had sunk to their haunches at Tarian’s command and were no threat. Then, with an exchange of whinnies, they galloped off down the hill, manes streaming out behind them. She extended her senses after them, smiling at the exuberance and exhilaration that flowed back to her.
A distant shimmer on the heathland below caught Tarian’s eye, and her smile faded. So near and yet so far. With a sigh, she turned to face the Queen.
Chapter 10
Dismayed, Cassie watched Tarian drop to one knee in front of the Queen’s horse. Why isn’t she running? Or putting up a fight?
Mab’s expression as she gazed down at Tarian’s bowed head was unreadable. Cassie bit her lip. Would she be open to persuasion to give Tarian a second—or was it third?—chance?
Who am I kidding? This is Mab we’re talking about, and Tarian disobeyed her explicit instructions. Cassie swallowed, her mouth dry. I can’t lose her. She’s meant to outlive me, not the other way around.
At Mab’s signal, the herald dismounted and knelt on all fours. She used his back as a dismounting block, straightened her gown, and stalked over to Tarian. Cadel and Einion dismounted too. Cadel looked down his nose at Cassie and made a point of ignoring her, but Einion threw her a look of apology.
“A seat, Einion,” commanded the Queen.
With a bow and a gesture, he materialised a plush red chair at her elbow. She smiled at him and made herself comfortable on it. And all the while Tarian knelt in front of her, not moving a muscle.
“I’m glad to see your manners haven’t deserted you, Tarian,” said Mab at last.
“Indeed, your majesty.” Tarian kept her head bowed.
“I was surprised to hear of your return.”
No one would have guessed from the conversational tone that Mab was discussing a matter of life and death. Tarian’s death. Cassie had never witnessed an unmaking, but Tarian had told her what was involved. What had she said? That the body collapsed in on itself? A shiver ran down Cassie’s spine, and she felt sick.
“Look at me,” ordered Mab.
Tarian raised her head, and the two Fae locked gazes. Cassie wondered if they were remembering how things had once been between them. A pang of jealousy shot through her before she remembered that Mab had wiped all that from her memory. Would that act of forgetting help or hinder Tarian?
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