Bran let out a relieved sigh. “Finally. I was not looking forward to sleeping on the ground, I’ll tell you that.”
I stared at him. He couldn’t be serious? It struck me that Bran might be on the spoiled side. “You realize that none of us are looking forward to camping out, but I think it’s safer than just traipsing into an inn that just appeared out of nowhere.”
“There is no safety in this realm, regardless of where we sleep. And if someone bothers us, we can handle them.” He sounded so cocky that it scared me. Why the hell had Derisa and Aeval insisted he come along? At least Morgaine seemed to have a level head about this trip. She knew it was dangerous, and she wasn’t taking chances.
As if reading my thoughts, Morgaine shook her head. “We are all weary and the trip is only going to become harder, but we don’t dare chance the inn. Just keep on moving. We aren’t far from a wooded glade, and there we will find shelter in the trees just off the path.”
Morio cleared his throat. “For once, I’m inclined to agree with you. This is not a realm to be taken lightly, and while we have a fair amount of power at our fingertips, there are creatures far stronger and more deadly than we are.”
Bran’s eyes narrowed to slits as he stared at Morgaine. “Do you forget what we discussed before we left? Do I have to remind you?”
Okay, this was a new one. I glanced at Morgaine, who flinched. She pressed her lips together and stared back at him. Anger rolled off of her in a wave, so palpable I could almost feel it.
She let out a short huff. “You might want to keep your mouth shut, Raven Master. Use up your tokens now and you won’t have any for later. A promise can only be leveraged so far, you realize?”
What the hell could Bran be holding over Morgaine’s head that would make her cave? And the more important question: Did Aeval know about this little matter when she ordered him to accompany us?
I glanced over at Arturo and Mordred. Arturo looked unfazed as usual. He was a rough read, that one. But Mordred looked pissed. As he gazed at Bran, a sneer flickered on his lips.
I shivered. The three of them made for a dangerous triangle, and whatever stakes they played for were far too high for my comfort level.
Delilah nudged my elbow and I gave her a surreptitious nod before leaning against my staff and whistling.
“Listen up. I have no clue what’s going down between you two, but whatever the issue is, we’re not part of it. You can do what you want, but the rest of us will take our chances in the woods ahead. We’re not going into that inn. If it showed up out of nowhere, it can vanish just as easily.”
Bran didn’t even bother looking at me, but continued to stare at Morgaine. “Moon Witch, you are under orders to the Queen of Dusk. Your desires and thoughts have no place or say here.”
Morgaine’s gaze flickered to meet mine and for the first time in a long while, I saw a glimmer of fear behind that cool exterior. “Play your cards wisely, Bran. Your hold on me is more tenuous than you like to think. I’ve met more dangerous players than you in my life and lived to see them enter the grave. Now, do you insist on chancing the inn?”
Bran flashed her a shrewd smile. “Check and mate. We will sleep in the forest. But Morgaine, don’t forget who holds the upper hand.”
Before anyone could say another word, the inn shivered and vanished. I stared at the barren space where it had stood. Everything in the realm of the Elder Fae seemed deadly and nebulous, and now that we knew Bran had some hold over Morgaine, I was even more nervous.
Morgaine let out a snort. “Sleep in the inn. Yes, what a wonderful idea.” Then, without another word, she turned and motioned toward the path. “Let’s get settled for the night. We need rest.”
* * *
The thicket was rife with deciduous trees, barren and sparse in the winter night. A thin veil of frost was beginning to form and it would be downright cold by morning.
Morio struck up a foxfire spell and the glowing ball gave us enough light to see our way behind a patch of ferns, their fronds waving a good five feet high. The trees were thick here. Among the alder and birch and oak, there also stood some fir and cedar. A dry, flat patch of ground beneath one of the giant conifers was large enough for us to spread out, and we gathered beneath the tree in a circle, resting on the ground.
I pulled out my blanket from my pack—spidersilk and thin, but warm. As I settled between Morio and Delilah, Tanne set up his gear on her other side.
Morgaine, Mordred, Arturo, and Bran set up their camp opposite us. I wanted to light a fire. Crackling flames would make everything seem so much better, but I didn’t even broach the idea. Too many creatures out there in the darkness. Too many chances to be seen by unwelcome eyes.
Bran said little, but instead covered himself with a blanket and turned over. I wasn’t sure if he was asleep, but it was a relief to feel like we weren’t under his constant scrutiny. Arturo silently went about setting out a snack for the three of them. Mordred leaned against one of the trees, his blanket wrapped around his shoulders.
I was tired, but hungry, so we dug through Hanna’s sack of sandwiches and chicken. She’d also included water in reusable plastic bottles, and cookies. Delilah stared at Bran’s prone figure, then tapped me on the shoulder and motioned for me to follow her. Tucking my cloak tightly around me, I did.
When we were far enough away from camp, back near the main road, she whispered. “What the hell is going on with Bran and Morgaine?”
“I don’t know, but I feel like we walked in a demilitarized zone, and any moment, we could step over the wire. I’d like to throttle Morgaine, though, for not warning us that Bran’s up to something. And I’d like to ask Aeval what the hell she knows about this and get a straight answer. She can’t be blind to their feud. She’s the one who brought Bran over to lead the Talamh Lonrach Oll Warriors. In fact, now that I remember, Morgaine was furious. I think she was doing her best to secure Mordred in that position.”
Delilah cocked her head. “But why would that give Bran power over her?”
“I don’t know, but when Morio was made my priest, during that rite, Morgaine acted like she hated my guts. Now she’s . . . well, she’s not friendly but she certainly seems to have transferred her anger for me to Bran.” I wanted to get to the bottom of all this, but the potential for upsetting the applecart was more than I wanted to risk—at least until we returned home.
“This whole off-to-find-the-Merlin thing reeks of intrigue.” Delilah sat down on a large rock. “I think I prefer dealing with the war in Otherworld. How can you stand the power plays going on out at the Triple Threat’s compound?”
I nudged her to scoot over so that I could sit beside her. The moon was visible between the clouds drifting by, and it felt like I could reach up and touch her. “I guess this is all part of where my life is headed. I’m supposed to be the first High Priestess over Earthside for the Moon Mother. That’s why Aeval is training me. But . . . there’s something bigger coming, I think.”
“That’s kind of how I feel with my training for the Autumn Lord.” Delilah let out a soft chuckle. “I mean, I know that one day I’m destined to bear his child, and that Shade will be the father by proxy . . . I guess that in itself is scary enough. At least, with that destiny, I can’t help but feel I’ll manage to survive. I can’t very well give birth if I’m dead.”
I let out a snicker and realized I could see my breath in front of me. “Well, that’s one way to look at it. Damn, it’s getting chilly.”
She nodded. “Yeah, the frost is already forming.”
“I wish that Aeval and Titania would . . .” Pausing, I glanced around to make sure nobody had followed us. No need for prying ears to hear what I was about to say. “I wish they would strip Morgaine of her powers.”
A shuffle in the brush stilled my words. Delilah heard it, too, and we froze, waiting to see what fresh horror was going to leap out at us. Another rustle and then the huckleberry bush parted and out flew a familiar figure.
&nb
sp; “Mistletoe!” I jumped up. The pixie darted over toward us. Even though pixies tended to look a lot alike, we knew Mistletoe well enough to tell him from the rest. “What are you doing here?”
He tipped his hat—a tiny green affair formed from a leaf, with a dashing yellow feather in it—and hovered in front of me. “I bring you news from Feddrah-Dahns.” He spoke in Melosealfôr, the high language of the Cryptos, used also by Moon witches such as myself.
Mistletoe was about twelve inches tall, and he was nearly translucent, with flecks of light sparkling through his body. In addition to the hat, he wore a pair of burlap trousers tied with a belt made of ivy vine, and he had a brown leather bag slung over his shoulder.
Unlike the pixies we had fought earlier, Mistletoe was a good sort, and he was also the messenger of the crown prince of the Dahns Unicorns.
“It’s been far too long since we heard from you and Feddrah! How are you faring?” I held out my hand and he flew down to settle on it. I brought him down to my knee and he made himself at home.
“As I said, Lady Camille, I have a message for you.”
I frowned. “Feddrah-Dahns knows I’m here in the realm of the Elder Fae? And please, speak in the common tongue—Delilah doesn’t know Melosealfôr.” If the unicorn prince knew where I was, that begged the question: Who else had that information, and was I in danger?
“He does. Word travels fast and rumors, still faster.”
“Damned Raven Mother. Why did she open her big mouth? She knows how important this trip is.” I let out an exasperated sigh. Aeval sure knew how to pick our traveling companions.
But Mistletoe shook his head, his wings fluttering with the movement. “No, it was not her. She has been absent from Darkynwyrd for several weeks. The Black Unicorn summoned Feddrah-Dahns to the woodland yesterday. The rumors are thick, but we haven’t been able to track their source yet. We have scouts looking into matters.”
“If it wasn’t Raven Mother, then there has to be a leak in Talamh Lonrach Oll, or in the Grove of the Moon Mother. Because I didn’t even know I’d be making this trip until a couple days ago.” I glanced over at Delilah and she shook her head. “Anyway, what news do you bring?”
“Feddrah-Dahns is concerned. With Elqaneve devastated, and the war spreading, he wanted to make this journey himself, but he is needed in Dahnsburg. The king has put him in charge of coordinating war efforts on behalf of all the Cryptos volunteering for service.” The pixie scowled. “Telazhar . . . his name is as good a curse.”
“I’m glad to hear your master is safe. We miss him.” The unicorn might not be as stern as his father, King Uppala-Dahns, but he was noble and honest, and funny in his own way.
“Feddrah-Dahns bade me tell you this: There is reason to believe that danger heads your way. Questions have been asked around Dahnsburg about you . . . and about the Black Unicorn horn. We fear someone means to steal the horn. The prince asked me to find you and caution you to watch your back.”
I sucked in a deep breath, once again regretting that I’d ever been gifted with the horn and hide. It made me a walking target and right now I had a big red bull’s-eye painted on my back.
But if Raven Mother hadn’t been at the roots of the rumors, then who? Bran? But if Bran wanted the horn, he wouldn’t be spreading rumors around that I had it. He’d just find a way to take it, and being the son of an Elemental, I wouldn’t be able to stop him. No, there had to be something else . . .
“Thank the prince for me. I wish I had some answer to all this. Wait, maybe you know something.” I hesitated, not wanting to spread more rumors myself but maybe . . . just maybe . . .
“If I can be of service, you have only to ask.” For a pixie, Mistletoe was incredibly polite. I wondered again, just how he’d gotten his job and why he was so unlike the rest of his race. He could be an annoying little twit, but he came through when it counted.
I glanced around again, to make certain none of Morgaine’s crew was nearby. Delilah noticed and skirted the area, then returned.
“We’re alone.”
“Thanks. Mistletoe, if you don’t know the answer, will you ask Feddrah-Dahns for me? But don’t tell anybody else what I’ve asked, please. There’s a lot riding on this.”
He held up his hand. “I swear by my wings. What do you want to know?”
“Bran—Raven Mother’s son. What can you tell me about him? Do you know what secrets he might be holding over Morgaine’s head as blackmail? Do they have any history together other than out at Talamh Lonrach Oll? I’m stuck in the middle of what seems to be a conflict between the two.”
Mistletoe let out a low whistle. “When you ask a question, you ask a question all right.” He shifted, crossing his right leg over his left. The movement tickled me—he was so light that it felt like a butterfly was on my knee.
“Some history you might not know and that I have a feeling Morgaine might choose to keep you from knowing. When she was young, she crossed over to Otherworld for a time. She met Bran, who was younger than he is now, but still an adult. He wanted her. She didn’t want him. She was in love with Arturo.”
“Where did Arturo come from? He’s human, isn’t he? He drank the Nectar of Life, didn’t he?”
Mistletoe stared at me. “You don’t know who he is?”
I glanced at Delilah, who shrugged. “Not really.”
“He is the Wounded King. He came out from the mists of Avalon with Morgaine after she sequestered him there to heal.” Mistletoe slapped his knee. “You really aren’t up on your history, are you?”
“History of Otherworld, yes—Earthside, not so much.” And then I realized what he was saying. “Arturo is . . . Arthur? As in King Arthur? There really was a King Arthur? You’ve got to be kidding me! Why doesn’t he remember who he is?” And then, another realization. “The Nectar of Life. She fed him the Nectar of Life and over the centuries, he’s forgotten. Like Tam Lin.”
Mistletoe nodded. “He was gravely wounded, and his son saved him. The stories and poems miss the mark. They were written long after the fact, like so much of history. Morgaine spirited him away when he was dying, but Avalon is a tricky place, and it’s easy to lose memory there if you are of human origin.”
“And Morgaine is half-Fae so she wouldn’t have that problem. Nor would she have the same problem taking the Nectar of Life. Fae side wins out there. Always has.” Just like it would win out when Delilah and I made the choice to drink. Our mother’s blood would not cause a problem because of our father’s heritage.
“Precisely.” Mistletoe shifted again, his wings fluttering in the light breeze that had cropped up. The temperature was dropping again and I shivered under my cloak, wishing I’d brought my blanket.
“So she brought Arturo to Otherworld? Mordred, too?”
Delilah interrupted, though. “Wait—Mordred. He’s Arturo’s son? Was he the one who tried to kill Arthur?”
“Yes, and no. He is Arturo’s son, but he did not try to kill him. That part of the story is wrong. In fact, Mordred saved his father’s life by killing the man who went up against him. Lancelot and Arthur fought over Gwenyfar. She was married off to Arthur without her permission. She and Lancelot were already in love. They got it on, were caught, and the result was a bloody nightmare of a battle. Mordred wanted his father’s throne, yes, but he loves Arthur, regardless of all his hunger for power.”
“So what does that have to do with Bran?”
“Mordred noticed Bran’s attraction to Morgaine while they were in Otherworld. She wasn’t interested. Bran pushed. Mordred got pissed off and he swore that if Bran didn’t back off, he’d fight him.”
“Well, that would have been suicide, fighting an Elemental.” Elementals were immortal—the only true Immortals. They couldn’t die, not permanently. Even the Black Unicorn had been reborn, but he was like the phoenix.
“Then what could Bran be holding over Morgaine?”
“That, I do not know. I’m simply telling you what I know of their history.
If it can give you an insight, then I’m hoping I have helped.”
Mistletoe paused, then added, “I can tell you this: Raven Mother fears her son. I don’t know why, but after you sacrificed her consort, Lady Camille, Raven Mother threw Bran out of Darkynwyrd for a period of time. He had barely returned home when he was called over Earthside. And that is all I know—” He stopped as a noise rustled the bushes behind us.
I pressed my fingers to my lips and nodded to the nearest fern. Mistletoe immediately dove for cover. The next moment, Mordred was standing there, staring at Delilah and me.
“Are you quite all right?” Animosity oozed from every pore.
“Fine. Thank you.” I wasn’t about to offer him an explanation. What Delilah and I were talking about was none of his business. I sat there, cold but unwilling to move because he so obviously was waiting for us to stand up and follow him back to the camp.
After a moment, he let out a snort. “You should sleep. Morning will come early and my aunt says the going will be rough. We have a mountain to climb. I should think you want all your strength about you.”
I glanced at Delilah. He wasn’t going to leave without us, and he did have a point. “True that. We’ll be along in a moment.”
As Mordred turned, I slid my hand behind me and wiggled my fingers in the direction of Mistletoe’s fern. A quick poke in my backside told me he’d seen me and was saying good-bye in the only way he could without being noticed.
As we returned to the campsite, I glanced over at Arturo’s sleeping form. So we had a king in our midst. A king who had forgotten his name. The Wounded King, at that.
A sudden sadness swept over me. The great humans of history died so quickly. Or, if they managed to get hold of the Nectar of Life, it seemed to stretch them beyond their ability to retain their sense of self.
Which made me wonder . . . what would happen to Chase? He’d been given a thousand more years to live. It had been that or let him die. Now, he was wrestling with the concept of a life in which everyone he knew—among the FBH community—would be dead long before him.
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