“Do you hear that?”
Aidan stood still, listening intently. “Is that music?”
Drifting across the stillness of the woods was the sound of a trumpet, high and clear, its notes faint but discernible. Gwen and Aidan looked at each other.
“Loniel?” Aidan guessed.
“A trumpet doesn’t really seem his style,” Gwen said, considering. “He seems more of a primal drums kind of guy.”
Aidan huffed through his nose, but otherwise ignored the comment. He said, “Well, it sounds like it’s on our path, so I guess we’ll find out.”
“Tread carefully,” Gwen warned, and they continued, walking more slowly and deliberately.
The music gradually grew richer and more complex as more instruments unveiled their tones. Trombones followed the trumpet, then a smattering of clarinets and flutes followed by a faint but growing swell of strings.
“Violins and flutes and cellos,” Aidan said slowly. “This is a whole orchestra.”
“Do you think…” Gwen trailed off. “We must be awfully close to the castle.”
“Yeah, sounds like the queen took a little field trip this afternoon.”
Gwen bit her lip.
“Are you ready?” she asked Aidan, turning to him. His cape was twisted at the clasp, and she reached over to fix it. Her hands trembled slightly as she undid the clasp, thinking of their task ahead.
As she finished, Aidan grabbed her hands in his and held them still.
“We can do this.”
They gazed at each other for a few long moments. Gwen felt like they were saying so much without any words. After a long moment had passed she tucked her head down to their clasped hands between their chests, wondering what had just happened. She squeezed his hands and let go, looking back into Aidan’s eyes as she did so and smiling shyly.
Aidan reached a hand to her temple and brushed back an errant piece of hair. She suddenly wished he wouldn’t stop.
“There are so many flowers in your hair. It looks beautiful.” He took his hand away and it left a hollow near Gwen, like the absence of heat in winter. “Let’s go show it off.”
Spontaneously she tucked her arm into his.
“Let’s do this,” she said, and together they walked down the path toward the music.
***
Gwen realized when they had walked past the next bend that the music came from a spot off the path.
“Guess we have to break trail again,” Gwen said, removing her hand from Aidan’s arm to hike her skirts up higher.
“Wait, there’s a path here.” Aidan pointed to a well-worn trail through the undergrowth, its inception hidden by a carefully positioned shrub. “Looks like the queen’s not a fan of bushwhacking.”
“That’s one thing we have in common,” Gwen muttered.
The path quickly widened into a large sunny clearing. Stately birches ringed a meadow of wildflowers, blooming white and yellow and violet amongst waving grasses. The sun streamed down, bathing everything in a bright glow. The meadow was alive with Breenan dancing in the hazy light. Their forms swayed and flowed like a mirage as Gwen blinked in the sudden brightness. A small, open-sided pavilion stood on the far left of the meadow and the dark-haired queen perched on a carved wooden seat within. Gwen’s stomach flopped a little at the sight of her mother. She suddenly, desperately, wanted to see Isolde’s face. Years of longing surfaced in an instant, and she gripped Aidan’s arm for balance against the maelstrom in her head.
“I see Ellie,” Aidan whispered, and Gwen tore her eyes away from the figure under the pavilion to scan the dancers. She spotted Ellie’s sky-blue dress without difficulty through the Breenan milling around the central dance. The dancers were dressed today in fresh colors—bright blues, vivid greens, sunny yellows. Many of the women and men had crowns of flowers and leaves on their heads and woven into their hair.
Aidan must have been noticing the same thing, because he leaned down and whispered, “You fit in perfectly.”
She smiled up at him as their eyes met. Then she sighed.
“Are you ready?”
“Ready as I’ll ever be.” They walked forward through the crowd. No one took much notice of them. There were green leaves of tattoos peeking out from underneath dress necklines, and Gwen surreptitiously glanced at her own to reassure herself it was still there. The gesture surprised her. Was she really so accepting and used to the mark already, that its presence comforted her?
They reached the edge of the spectators just as the music finished. The musicians wiped their brows under the warm rays of the sun and flipped sheets of music. Spectators and dancers were moving around, changing places, and Aidan grabbed Gwen’s hand.
“Now’s our chance,” he whispered, and they hurried into the meadow. Gwen steered Aidan as close to Ellie as she could before the dancers placed themselves in formation. Aidan touched her forehead to put the dancing spell on her, and they parted to take their places in the dance.
Gwen’s hands were clammy and cold. The audacity of what they were doing hit her with the full force of the danger they were in. She was totally dependent on this spell that Aidan had made up on his own.
She was so busy fervently hoping that the spell would work that she was taken by surprise when the music started and her body demanded to move. She let it do what it willed, happy to be a passive recipient of the dance. She curtseyed and Aidan bowed, and they walked around each other with their hands just touching.
Gwen breathed a little easier but kept vigilant, trying to figure out how to get to Ellie. She risked a glance at Ellie dancing nearby. Her dress was as clean as before and her hair still miraculously intact, with the addition of fresh flowers laced through her curls. Her face, however, was a mask of indifference overlaid on extensive suffering. She had a gaunt, hollowed look, so bizarre on her normally cheerful visage, and her eyes were sunken with dark circles underneath. Gwen glanced down and her stomach dropped. Ellie’s shoes were worn away almost completely and bloodstains edged the holes. Gwen focused again on the dance, tears springing to her eyes.
The music changed slightly and Gwen and Aidan found themselves in a set of four with Ellie and a young Breenan man who wore a crown of laurel leaves on his chestnut-brown hair.
Gwen had hardly made eye contact with Ellie before the Breenan man swept Gwen away in the dance. The two couples whirled around each other, Gwen barely having time to breathe. Her partner’s intense eyes were focused on hers as they turned. Gwen concentrated hard on letting her body do what it wanted. After the initial relief of knowing the dance moves, it was difficult for her to let some unseen force control her. She wanted to fight it, and felt very wrong-footed and ill at ease even as she executed perfect footwork. As she twirled past the other two she could hear Aidan murmuring softly to Ellie. Her heart ached at Ellie’s nearness and her stomach clenched at their proximity to danger.
Gwen and her partner separated and the two couples faced each other in a square once again. Gwen looked at Ellie’s face dripping with tears, spilling out over her cheeks as she fought to keep her eyes open wide enough to see the dance. Her feet never faltered.
Gwen forgot everything in her overwhelming despair. Her body was numb with horror. In her distraction and emotion, Aidan’s spell on her diminished. Suddenly she didn’t know what to do next. Ellie’s eyes widened with terror and Gwen realized she had missed steps of the dance. She tried to listen to her body again but the Breenan man had stopped, watching her curiously. Aidan and Ellie stopped as well.
“You’d better go see the queen,” the man said finally. “She’ll want to have a word with you. You know she only allows the best in her dances.” He jerked his head in the direction of the tent, looking at Aidan. “Go on, take her up.”
Gwen’s heart sank as she realized she was leaving Ellie yet again. She looked at Ellie as Aidan took her arm. Ellie looked terrified and bereft, but she tried for a watery smile as Gwen walked away. Her heart pounding and her stomach in knots, Gwen w
alked with Aidan toward the tent. There was no escape. Gwen could feel the eyes of the man burning into her back and the queen had stood up from her carved seat and waited for them.
They approached the tent. The queen stood under its cover with her face obscured in its shadow, dim amidst the dazzling light of the clearing. They stopped a few paces away. Gwen wondered what to do. She bowed her head awkwardly to acknowledge the queen’s presence and hoped she wasn’t supposed to curtsey or get down on one knee.
“You are very young.” Isolde spoke out of the shadows. Her voice was rich and resonant—it was a voice used to being heard. “That might explain your inability to keep to the dance. This particular dance is a very old one indeed, not one of the new ones from my most recent choreographer. Therefore there is little excuse for your misstep, save inexperience and a lack of knowledge of my court.”
Gwen glanced at Aidan briefly, wondering what to say. His pale face looked as confused and frightened as her own.
“Well? Have you nothing to say in your own defense?” Isolde said, and stepped forward as if to examine them better. Gwen’s breath caught.
It was the face from her father’s sketch come to life. The years had aged Isolde, but lines were faint, and only one dramatic stripe of white at her temple lightened the brown-black locks. Age had merely given her beauty an air of gravitas. She was not wearing the smug smile of hidden knowledge as she had for the sketch. Instead, her lips pursed a little and her eyes considered, as if unsure what to do.
Gwen was speechless at the sight of her mother in the flesh. Aidan came to her rescue.
“We’re sorry, my lady,” he stumbled out. “It won’t happen again.”
“Missteps are something I cannot allow too frequently. The dance is a kind of magic, you know, beyond its own intrinsic beauty. The magic made by the dance and music powers much of this realm. The enchantments on the forest to keep the realm safe, for example, are born of these beautiful formations.” She swept a hand toward the dancers, and then turned back to Gwen and Aidan. “Without the dance, the forests would be overrun with dangerous beasts, our borders would be breached by malevolent enemies, and this court would sink into ruin. Even the food at our table relies on the magic of the dance and without it the people of this realm would go hungry. So you see, I must ask you to leave. Every misstep weakens the magic. When you have mastered the moves, you are more than welcome to return and join again in the pleasures of the dance.”
Isolde looked expectantly at them while Gwen gathered her scattered thoughts. She blurted out, “Why do you bring the humans in? Surely they’re a source of error. They aren’t perfect.”
“Too true.” Isolde nodded. “But it is a necessary evil. The magic of the dance loses its potency with too much repetition. We would survive for a while without new choreography and creativity from the humans, but eventually the magic would weaken and the realm would be susceptible to war and famine. Besides, my dancers would get very bored doing the same dances over and over again.” She glanced out to the dancers. “Speaking of which, my newest acquisition seems almost spent. I’ll have to dispose of her shortly, I suppose. Perhaps on the morrow.”
Gwen followed her gaze to see Ellie on the other end. Anger started to burn deep in her chest. Anger at her own impotence and failed rescue attempts, anger at the whole crazy Otherworld, and above all anger at Isolde, her cold, cruel, abandoning Breenan mother. Her frustration must have shown on her face, because Aidan surreptitiously snuck his hand into hers and gave it a gentle squeeze. She released the breath she didn’t know she had been holding.
Isolde turned back to them.
“Safe travels,” she said dismissively. Then she looked more closely at Gwen, searching her face curiously. “You look very familiar, my dear,” she said. Gwen tried to make her face as blank as possible. Isolde’s eyes travelled up to Gwen’s hair, and Gwen glanced down. She noticed a delicate gold chain lying against Isolde’s neck. At the end of the chain dangled a large gold locket, the metal face worked with patterns of golden vines and leaves.
Gwen glanced back at Isolde’s face, her heart pounding. Everything she wanted was here—Ellie, the locket—they were so close but so unattainable. Isolde’s face was puzzled.
“There is a riddle spelled out in the flowers in your hair,” she said. “It’s very skillful work. Did you do this?”
Gwen frowned in confusion.
“No, I didn’t. I had help.”
“From whom?”
Gwen couldn’t see any reason to lie. She realized that this must be the ‘message’ Loniel sent to Isolde.
“Loniel did it.”
Isolde stared at her for a minute, her hand reaching up to finger the locket absentmindedly. Then she collected herself.
“That will be all. You may go now.” She waved them off.
Aidan grabbed Gwen’s arm and pulled her away. She stumbled after him and they quickly walked the circumference of the clearing. Gwen glanced back once. Isolde still looked after them, frowning.
They walked into the dim of the forest and promptly bumped into a man.
“Sorry,” Gwen gasped.
“Wait,” the man replied. “What are you two doing here?”
Gwen squinted into the darkness as her eyes adjusted. Aidan sucked in his breath beside her. Suddenly the man grabbed her shoulder and pushed the edge of her dress down, leaning in to look at her mark. She recognized Corann.
“Oh, no,” she breathed. She wrenched away from him, but it was too late. His shocked face and wide eyes filled her vision. Aidan grabbed her hand and they fled, Corann watching them go with an open mouth.
Chapter 16
Corann stared after Gwen and Aidan’s frenzied escape, making no move to stop them. His forehead creased in confusion. He stood beneath the trees, thinking, until a change in the music brought him out of his reverie. He turned quickly and exited the relative darkness of the trees into the shimmering light of the meadow.
Isolde stood in the shade of her brocade pavilion. Her face was thoughtful as she surveyed the dancers floating in intricate formations to the pulse of the orchestra. Her fingers stroked the locket around her neck absently.
Corann approached the queen.
“My lady?”
She turned and smiled in welcome.
“Corann. I was wondering where you had disappeared to.” She brought her hand down from the nape of her neck and smoothed her skirts. “I’m pleased with our little excursion today. We all needed a change, I think.”
Corann bowed his head in agreement but did not reply. He stared at Isolde’s face, his lips tight, as she gazed out over the meadow. She caught his eye and laughed lightly.
“So intense! Is there something you wish to say?” She reached out and gently brushed away an errant lock of hair on his forehead.
Corann did not smile back.
“My lady.” He paused. “When I acquired your latest dancer,” he waved toward Ellie, dancing dead-eyed nearby, “I also met her friend, a girl about the same age. I would have thought no more about her, except that she must have followed me into our world, along with a male companion. The bartender, if I recall correctly.”
Isolde frowned.
“Why have you said nothing until now?”
“I did not know. I only saw the two of them as they left the meadow just now. The girl was dark-haired with a green dress. The male was tall with red hair.”
“Yes, I remember. I just spoke to them.” Isolde stared at Corann in puzzlement. “The girl wasn’t following the dance correctly, and so I asked them to leave.” She frowned. “She had a mark, and certainly looked Breenan. But you say they came from the human world?”
Corann looked unhappy.
“Did you read her mark?”
“No, I didn’t bother.” Isolde looked sharply at Corann. “Who is she? Why and how was she in the human world?”
Corann looked directly into the queen’s eyes.
“She is your daughter. Your half-human daug
hter.”
There was a long pause as Isolde stared at Corann. Her usually calm expression betrayed her, and various emotions flitted across her face. First came blank shock, followed by a widening of the eyes in panic. Finally a hint of longing stole over her features. She turned her face away from Corann. Her voice was a little unsteady as she said, “So that was Gwendolyn. How—how strange to see her. See her as a grown woman, I mean. In my mind she is always so tiny, such a fragile little thing. And so angry. I remember her little fists and her cries as my mother took her away.” She exhaled sharply in what might have been a laugh. “My mother was so afraid I would not let the baby go. From the moment she knew I was with child she hounded me, reminding me I had to give the baby up. She hardly let me see her on the birth day.” She looked back at Corann, her face controlled once more. “She needn’t have worried. I knew what had to be done.”
Isolde gazed at the dancers, a faraway look in her eyes.
“I wondered why the girl looked so familiar. I suppose I saw myself in her.”
“She does resemble you a little,” Corann said begrudgingly. “But there is something strange and other in her features. It is an uncanny meld.”
“It’s her father,” Isolde said softly. “She has a lot of him in her. Alan.” She stared into the distance with unseeing eyes, a faint smile playing around her softened mouth.
Corann’s face darkened.
“You still have feelings for this human?” He spoke in a light, casual tone, but his eyes were locked on Isolde’s face.
Isolde blinked and shook her head.
“Of course not. I never did. He was a means to an end, nothing more.” She avoided Corann’s searching gaze, keeping her eyes fixed on the dance.
Corann let the subject drop.
“Did the girl say why she was here?”
“No,” Isolde said thoughtfully. “But she if is indeed a friend of my most recent human, perhaps that is all the explanation we need.”
Breenan Series Box Set Page 16