“Yes, my lord?”
“I wish to greet the queen and present her with a gift. I am Prince Bran, King Faolan’s seventh son of the Wintertree realm.”
“Certainly, my lord. Follow me and I will announce you.”
The man turned swiftly and walked along the perimeter of the ballroom, skirting groups of Breenan dressed in their finest, chattering and holding crystal goblets glittering with a pinky-orange liquid. Gwen was supremely grateful that many of the crowd sported fantastical masks of feathers and beads and fur. Dancers swirled nearby and Gwen was dazzled by the colors and textures of the clothes floating past. She scanned the dancers for Ellie and was relieved to see her blue dress on the far side of the room.
They approached the dais at the edge of the ballroom. Isolde stood in front of her carved wooden seat, scanning the dancers with a worried expression, her hand fingering the locket around her neck. Gwen found herself clenching her jaw at the sight of Isolde and she forced herself to loosen it.
Their guide stepped up to Isolde and murmured quietly to her. She nodded and he slid away. Isolde turned to Bran and Gwen, smiling graciously.
“Welcome, Prince Bran.”
Bran patted Gwen’s hand and released her arm. He stepped ahead and bowed to Isolde.
“Thank you, Queen Isolde. May I present my cousin Ava? We have both recently come from the marking rites.”
Gwen stepped forward and tried her best to curtsey. Isolde nodded.
“You are most welcome.” She glanced to the dancers again, as if distracted. Gwen stepped back toward Bran, weak-kneed with relief that Isolde hadn’t recognized her. Isolde’s hand went to the locket again. Gwen wondered suddenly if Isolde was looking for her in the crowd. She took a half-step behind Bran.
“My lady, may I present you with a gift? My father always values your generous friendship with our kingdom, and now that I am of age I would like to honor that alliance.” Bran turned and beckoned Aidan forward. He stepped toward them, wide-eyed but with a determined jaw. “May I present you with a human musician? I know of your delight in novelty and beautiful music. This human is excellent, I assure you. I hope you like it.”
Gwen winced inwardly at Bran’s choice of pronoun. His speech had gained the queen’s undivided attention at last. She fixed her eyes intently on Aidan, who stared back blank-faced.
“This is a fine gift, Prince Bran. Perhaps a demonstration is in order.” She raised a hand and made a closing gesture. The orchestra stopped instantly and the dancers paused mid-stride. All eyes fixed on Isolde. Isolde opened her hand to Aidan.
“Come, human. Play me a song I’ve never heard. Surprise me.”
Aidan glanced at Bran, who smiled and nodded encouragingly. He wiped his palms on the legs of his pants, and raised the flute to his lips.
The haunting notes soared up, floating out across the stillness of the ballroom and resonating between pillars. Aidan played a version of a melody he had created the night before. Gwen guessed it was easier to fall back on something known in the stress of the moment. Isolde had her eyes fixed on Aidan, her expression rapturous.
Aidan cut short his performance, perhaps fearing to break the spell his music had cast by playing a sour note. There were a few moments of pure silence, the quiet of a room holding its breath. Then Isolde snapped upright from her unconscious leaning toward Aidan, and made a gesture to the orchestra. The music started once again, and the dancers swirled into motion.
“This is a generous gift indeed, Prince Bran,” Isolde said. She kept her eyes fixed on Aidan. A surge of possessiveness hit Gwen, and she bit the inside of her cheek to control herself. Isolde continued, “He will be a fine addition to my orchestra, and later I will have him create new pieces for me.”
“I am pleased that you are pleased,” Bran said formally. “May Ava and I join your dance? I adore dancing.” Only Gwen noticed the twitch in the corner of Bran’s mouth that marked the untruth.
“Of course, my dear prince,” Isolde said. “It is a pleasure to share my joys with those who appreciate them.” She waved them toward the dance floor. “Please, enjoy yourselves.”
Bran took Gwen’s arm and led her away. Gwen looked back to share a terrified glance with Aidan before he too was led away by the man in the suede uniform. Isolde returned to her post, scanning the crowd.
“Wait,” Isolde said suddenly. Gwen and Bran halted and looked back, Gwen’s heart pounding. “Have you perchance seen in your travels two young people? The girl has long dark hair and a green velvet dress, and the boy red hair and a black cape. I wish to find them.”
“Unfortunately, many match that description,” said Bran smoothly as Gwen nervously patted the skirt of her now-orange dress. “If I see a pair that fit, however, I will inform you at once.”
“Yes, thank you, Prince Bran. It was just a wild chance.” She waved toward the dance floor. “Please, do not let me detain you any further.”
They made their escape in a stately manner, Gwen’s palms sweaty and her breathing shallow.
“We made it,” Bran murmured in her ear. He grinned at her. “No problem.”
“She’s looking for us, though.” Gwen didn’t return Bran’s smile, lost in her worries. “Okay, let’s get Ellie and get out of here.”
“All business, my lady?” Bran suddenly grabbed her around the waist and swung her into the river of dancers swirling in an endless circle in the center of the ballroom.
Gwen was supremely grateful for the dance spell Aidan had concocted as Bran swept her along, turning and bending in formations she never would have anticipated on her own. She spotted Ellie a few couples away.
“There she is,” she hissed to Bran, and then her heart dropped. “Dammit, she’s dancing with Corann.” Sure enough, Corann’s arm snaked around Ellie’s waist as he steered her around the ballroom. Ellie’s eyes were glazed as she ran through the motions, and her elbows drooped.
“Okay, I’ll cut in at the next dance,” Bran said, and he steered them closer to Ellie and Corann. A half-minute later, the orchestra finished its piece. Bran gave Gwen a quick bow for appearance’s sake, and moved to Ellie’s side. Gwen made her way to the edge of the dancers but stayed close enough to overhear Bran’s conversation.
“May I have this next dance, my lady?” He bowed to Ellie. She gazed at him without curiosity. “I would love to learn some new steps from you.”
The music started again. Corann grabbed Ellie’s waist.
“Sorry, she’s taken for this dance. Perhaps another time.” He smiled lazily at Bran and moved away, Ellie at his side.
Bran turned to Gwen with a questioning glance, but Gwen hardly saw it. She was already moving toward Ellie and Corann, who were dancing a slow stationary waltz. She touched Corann’s arm.
“Excuse me,” she said, doing her level best to appear flirtatious. “I couldn’t help notice that you’re a wonderful dancer. Would I be too bold to cut in?” She rested her hand on Corann’s arm, wrapping her fingers around it one by one. He looked down at her hand, then at her, obviously interested. She tilted her head down and looked through her lashes. She felt ridiculous, that her motives were completely transparent, but Corann looked gratified.
“It would be my pleasure, my lady,” he said. “Wait over there,” he instructed Ellie, who turned without emotion to walk to the milling crowd. Corann placed a hand on Gwen’s waist and they began to waltz.
Gwen was terrified. She worried that the dance spell wouldn’t hold, or that Bran wouldn’t be able to dance Ellie out. What if Corann’s instruction to wait had been a magical command? She worried that Aidan wouldn’t find his way out of the orchestra. Above all, she worried that she would give herself away to Corann, the only Breenan here aside from Bran and Isolde who knew who she really was.
So far, Corann seemed to suspect nothing. He smiled at her as they waltzed, and Gwen tried to maintain her seductive façade. She felt like an actress, and a terrible one. Her experience at chatting up the opposite sex was limit
ed to watching movies and Ellie. She looked out of the corner of her eye to Bran dancing with Ellie.
“Are you new to court? I don’t recognize you,” Corann said as they turned.
Gwen thought quickly.
“Maybe, maybe not. What’s the joy of a mask if I can’t be mysterious?” She rubbed his shoulder with her fingers. He chuckled softly.
“Keep your secrets, then. I only ask to know who to dance with in the future. You are very graceful.”
Gwen spotted Bran moving nearer to the door. She needed to keep Corann distracted for a little longer.
“I have many talents. Dancing is only one of them.” She said it only to prolong their conversation, but as Corann smiled wickedly she realized the implications of what she’d said and blushed furiously. She bowed her head, grateful for the mask.
Corann laughed.
“I look forward to getting to know you better.”
Gwen tried not to shudder. She stole a glance at Bran and Ellie, who were on the edge of the dance floor nearest the open double doors. Bran had just swirled Ellie off the floor and walked her away from the dance when Corann followed her gaze.
“What interests you?” he asked curiously. He spotted Ellie leaving. His face darkened and his brow furrowed in puzzlement.
Gwen tried to distract him.
“Nothing at all. I’m only admiring all the beautiful dresses here today.” She was appalled at herself for jeopardizing the plan so foolishly. She tried to continue dancing, but Corann stopped her. He stared at her for a minute then glanced at her shoulder. Horrified, Gwen remembered that her tattoo remained undisguised. Recognition lit Corann’s face, and he swiftly ripped away her mask. She tried to turn and run, but Corann’s grip on her was unbreakable. He looked past her toward the dais where Isolde stood, and nodded. Then he pulled Gwen without comment toward the front door.
Chapter 19
Isolde waited for them at the door. She stared hard at Gwen without expression.
“Thank you, Corann. I will take it from here.”
“Yes, my lady.” He bowed and walked away, moving swiftly to Bran and Ellie who watched nervously nearby. He grabbed Ellie and took her to the dance floor again as Ellie’s hopeless face burned into Gwen’s eyes. She turned back to Isolde, the living portrait of her father’s sketch. Isolde continued to stare at Gwen, searching her face.
“Come,” she said at last, and turned to walk out the door. Gwen paused with indecision. Her friends were in the castle, trapped. She couldn’t leave them. But the enigma of her mother lured her. She sensed that rescue was futile until she had faced her mother.
Isolde turned.
“Come,” she repeated. She walked away. Gwen followed.
Isolde floated down the steps of the castle, her long dress of dark blue silk trailing behind. Gwen followed a few paces back. Her heart pounded. What was Isolde doing? What would she say? What was Gwen going to say? Gwen had been hoping for this moment all her life, and now she didn’t know what to do. It was all so different from what she had dreamed of, so disastrously wrong from what it should be. She could read nothing of Isolde’s intentions from the set of her shoulders or her steady gait. She wondered suddenly if she walked like Isolde.
“Where are we going?” Gwen asked as they rounded the first bend on the path. Isolde said nothing. They passed another bend and Gwen asked again, her annoyance overriding the ever-present fear and growing anger.
This time Isolde stopped and turned.
“To come where we will not risk being overheard,” she answered calmly. She looked at Gwen again, lingering on the features of her face. She let her gaze touch on Gwen’s tattoo, clearly visible above her dropped neckline. “I assume you have had your mark read to you.”
“Yes,” Gwen forced out.
“Good. Then we can dispense with the introductions and expressions of shock and surprise.” Gwen raised her eyebrows in disbelief. Isolde said, “I am your mother. You are my daughter by the human Alan.”
Gwen just stared at her, wondering at her cool detachment. Isolde continued.
“I suppose you have questions for me. I can spare a few minutes, certainly. But first, I must ask—can you do magic?”
Gwen was silent. Isolde gazed at her, then nodded.
“As I suspected. I detected the dancing spell on you, and it did not match your own signature. Someone has placed the spell on you.”
“You can tell that?” Gwen was a little astonished. Had it been that obvious?
“I’m rather talented at magic. Most would not have noticed. The spell was crude, but performed well. I expect it was cast by someone unschooled but talented. Perhaps your half-blood friend you’ve been traveling with? I believe Corann called him Aidan?”
Gwen’s jaw clenched. Isolde was too knowledgeable. Gwen’s face must have revealed her confusion because Isolde gave a soft laugh.
“I am correct, then. Let me see if I can piece together the rest of the tale. Corann seduced the human girl to bring back to my court to enliven the dancing there. You and the other half-blood followed them through, which you were able to do because of your half-blood status.” She looked at Gwen curiously. “This does not surprise you. Perhaps you have already been informed of the great secret? I noticed the flower message in your hair yesterday. I expect you’ve been consorting with that imp Loniel.” She tossed her head in annoyance. “Meddlesome wild man. No matter. Ever since, you’ve been trying to steal back my new human.”
“She’s not yours,” Gwen spat out through gritted teeth. The more she listened to Isolde, the greater her anger grew. “You can’t just kidnap and enslave her for your own purposes. She’s a person too, even if she’s not Breenan.”
“I admire your courage in coming here and facing the perils of this world, and your tenacity in trying to rescue your friend. It leans on the edge of stubbornness, frankly.” Isolde looked at Gwen with half-closed eyes, chin tilted. “It reminds me a little of myself.” She smiled.
“I am nothing like you,” Gwen snarled. She clenched and unclenched her hands, frustrated and angered beyond what she had ever imagined. A small thud jolted her chest, but she ignored it.
“It’s true, you are something else altogether,” Isolde replied calmly, unfazed by Gwen’s outburst. “I expect you’ve wondered why I had you, and then gave you up.” Gwen bit her lips, holding her breath in anticipation. She wanted to rant and rail at this cold, unfeeling woman, but the answers she had been looking for her whole life were about to be unveiled. She now wondered if she really wanted to know.
“I entered your world, seeking a human man, just as my mother had done before me and her mother before her.” Isolde answered the question in Gwen’s eyes. “No, I am not myself a half-blood, but somewhere in your world lives a brother of mine. The women in our family have each given birth to a half-human for many years, ever since we discovered the secret of Kiera’s curse. You have been told of the half-blood loophole?” Gwen nodded. Isolde continued.
“Let me let you in on a little secret. The loophole works when a half-blood touches one of the old portal ways, and focuses their mind on their anchor in the other world. The anchor is generally their parent, someone that ties the half-blood to the world in a tangible way. Once that is achieved, the portal opens and the half-blood may enter. The anchors must be alive for the magic to work. However, so strong is the magic bridge between the two worlds that even a few hairs from a half-blood will suffice to transport anyone between realms, as long as the half-blood’s anchors are invoked.”
Isolde grasped the locket around her neck and pried it open. Gwen stared dumbfounded. Inside was a miniature painting of Isolde as Gwen knew her from her sketch. She recognized her father’s hand. A small curl of hair, as brown-black as Gwen’s own, lay on the other side. Isolde carefully moved the lock of hair to her own picture, and exposed a tiny painting of Gwen’s father in his youth on the other side.
“So you see,” Isolde said, snapping the locket shut, “I needed to
have you to be able to travel between our worlds. The magic I create with music and dance is vital for the defense of this realm. Infusions of creativity are needed for continual protection.”
Gwen stared at her in disbelief. She shook her head slowly as if to clear it, but nothing made sense. A lock of her hair, in addition to portraits of her parents, somehow created a magical pathway between worlds. Was that the only reason she had been born, to forge a path to collect humans for the Otherworld?
“But—but why?” She swallowed, needing answers, dreading answers. “Why didn’t you keep me? Why did you abandon me?” She hated the way her voice sounded, all weak and pathetic. She clenched her jaw and looked away from Isolde.
Isolde sounded surprised.
“I couldn’t keep you. It’s just not done. No one keeps a human baby, not since Kiera’s curse. They’re so rare nowadays, anyway.” Isolde paused. “I don’t think I ever really considered it. You were a half-blood baby, and there was no place for you here.”
Gwen closed her eyes in pain. Isolde’s tone was so matter of fact. There was no regret tingeing the words, no wish for things to have gone differently, no desire to know Gwen better. Gwen suddenly wished bitterly that she was still in blissful ignorance of her parentage. Surely not knowing was better than knowing this.
Isolde continued, her voice now crisp and efficient.
“You still have no place here, especially without magical abilities. You must understand that I could never acknowledge you or afford you a place in court. You now know how the portals work. I will allow you safe passage through my forest to get to the stone doorway.” She pointed to an overgrown side trail Gwen hadn’t noticed that branched off the main path. “Do not attempt to rescue your human friend. She is almost spent, in any event, and would not be of much use to you afterward. I believe I will keep your half-blood friend. His music is divine and will prove very useful. He will be under my protection and supervision. Prince Bran, I will deal with separately. But rest assured he will be of no further help to you.”
Breenan Series Box Set Page 19