“Thanks Bran,” Gwen said. She sighed again and looked around. “Now, where would Isolde have taken Aidan?”
“That depends on what she wants from him.” Bran smiled widely.
Gwen gave him a stern look.
“She wanted him for a spell, I think.”
“Well, then you’ll want her room of enchantments,” Bran replied. “It’s through the door behind her dais, I believe. It’s specially constructed for magic. You know, circular, wooden walls…”
“Umm, sure,” Gwen said. “The usual.” She took a deep breath. “Okay, wish me luck.”
“Good luck.”
***
Gwen passed through the trees, occasionally side-stepping one or climbing over a fallen branch. Bran and Ellie were out of view by the time she exited the stand of birches and clambered over another stone wall. Five paces past the wall she stopped, knee-deep in barley. Feeling foolish, she quickly made a peephole portal and peered through. Brown hair curled elegantly in a fanciful silver wire cage directly before her eyes.
Gwen froze. She hadn’t gone far enough. She was looking at the back of an attendee’s head. She stepped back and wondered with a certain queasiness what would happen if she opened the portal a few inches farther. She vowed to take a solid five paces before opening another portal.
Her next opening gave her a view into an entirely different room. It was cylindrically shaped with curved wooden panels on every wall. If there were a door, Gwen couldn’t spot it. The panels were set closely together and the joins were nearly invisible due to the intricate designs over every inch of the polished oak surface. Dragons sprawled across multiple panels, stretching clawed feet and letting tendrils of smoke twine between small birds, which playfully swooped near sleeping lions and alert roaring lions, which chased panicked deer. More deer grazed peacefully next to rabbits, which burrowed in and out of the surface of the wood. And above all there were vines, endless vines, covering every surface not inhabited by animals, bursting with leaves of every description and delicate flowers that bloomed and blossomed and drooped.
The ceiling continued the menagerie pattern of the walls but the floor depicted only one design—an enormous open daisy, its petals stretching from wall to wall and its center filling the middle of the room. The whole effect was as if Gwen were buried deep in the heart of an oak, or as if she had been sealed in a tree like the wizard Merlin from Arthurian legend. She wondered suddenly how the Otherworld fit into those legends.
Her interest in the room’s décor paled next to what was within it. Aidan stood with his flute in the very center of the daisy, facing Gwen and looking very pale. Isolde stood before him, the train of her dress spread out behind her over the carved daisy. The only light came from a yellow flame in Isolde’s hand. It accentuated the angles of Aidan’s face and washed out his freckles, making him appear strange and somehow older. Gwen noticed suddenly that his face and hair had lost their disguise. Isolde must have stripped off his human features after leaving Gwen. Aidan’s shirt was ripped open to expose the mark on his shoulder. His flute hung loosely in his hand.
Isolde started to speak, but the portal was already mending itself. Gwen panicked. She needed to know what Isolde said. She grabbed the tiny pieces of the portal edge and focused fiercely on Isolde, not a difficult proposition with the object of her concentration in front of her. The portal slowed its weaving, then stopped. Gwen kept her hands on the pieces of fabric. She visibly gripped the edges, but they felt like nothing between her fingers.
Gwen listened intently, holding her breath to hear more clearly. Isolde spoke.
“… Declan’s son. Well, we don’t have to mention this meeting, do we? Not that he knows you exist. He’s forever siring children on random women.” She reached out to trace a long finger over his tattoo. Aidan shuddered and turned his head away, but stayed in place.
“Why am I here?” His voice was hoarse. “What do you want with me?”
“That’s a good question.” Isolde started to walk around Aidan, her dress whispering on the daisy petals. “You could be very useful. The combination of your musical skill and your raw magic is a potent one indeed. Not since the days of Kiera have I heard of such a one. Most half-bloods stay in the human realm.
“You are full of possibilities.” Isolde stood back and observed him. He stared back at her. She said, “Play me a tune. Let us see how your music resonates in this room, and then I will have a better sense of how to use you.”
“Why would I do anything to help you?” Aidan’s voice was low and quiet. “Are you going to torture me like you did Ellie, or do I have too much Breenan in me for you to bear to do that?”
Isolde leaned forward and stroked his cheek.
“There will be no torture here. A better question is, why wouldn’t you help me? Gwendolyn has left you to go back to the human world, and I have you in my keeping. If you please me, I may grant you your freedom.” Aidan glared at her, but said nothing further. Isolde waved expectantly at the flute dangling in Aidan’s hand. Aidan sighed and brought the instrument to his lips.
As the first notes drifted hauntingly through the air, low and somber, the fire in Isolde’s hand dimmed to a low glow. The notes resonated soft and mellow against the gleaming wood. Gwen looked at a dragon coiled on the ceiling nearby, and could almost swear that the smoke twining from its nostrils swirled gently out. She blinked and looked at the other two. Isolde had her eyes closed in rapturous contentment. Gwen saw her chance.
Gwen stared hard at Isolde and then summoned her core and ripped the door open wider. She stepped over the edge and felt the ridges of the wooden daisy petal under her flimsy shoes. She let the portal close and it wove shut with a swish behind her. Keeping the peephole open had been tiring—she could feel her arms dangling heavy at her sides. She walked silently toward the center of the room. Isolde was turned away, eyes shut. Aidan’s eyes were half-closed as he played. The music swelled around Gwen, rich and full. Within two paces of Isolde, Gwen stopped and waited.
Aidan’s eyes opened wider to view the effect his music had on Isolde. Then he saw Gwen. His eyes opened fully and his breath stopped. The music died. The last notes lingered for longer than Gwen expected, but they too eventually faded.
Isolde’s eyes popped open. “Why did you stop playing?” she demanded of Aidan. Then she looked in the direction of his gaze.
“Hello, Isolde.” Gwen’s voice was calm and steady. The fires of anger and fear still burned in her belly, but instead of overwhelming her they mingled with her core and gave her strength. She embraced them, and they ceased to control her.
Gwen jerked her head at Aidan, who took four running steps to land at her side.
“Ready?” she whispered, and then looked at Isolde and opened a portal by spreading out her left arm to her side. Aidan gaped as the fabric of the Otherworld ripped open to reveal the field of barley.
“Go on,” Gwen urged him. “It’s England. I’ll be right behind you.”
Aidan looked at her briefly for confirmation then climbed through. A second later, the portal started to weave itself closed. Gwen watched it calmly. Aidan’s face appeared in the swiftly diminishing hole, looking panicked. She gave him a half-smile as it shut fully with a final ripple.
Gwen turned to face Isolde.
Chapter 21
Isolde’s face expressed shock above all. Another emotion danced underneath. As Gwen looked at her mother’s face she realized what it was. Isolde was impressed. Gwen gave an inward sigh. Of course. It would take a display of magic to gain the admiration of Isolde.
“Gwendolyn.” Isolde finally spoke, her voice unsure at first but quickly gaining a mask of confidence. “That was extraordinary magic. I must admit, I have never seen its like.”
“I guess that’s because you don’t know any half-bloods,” Gwen replied. Standing in front of Isolde, Gwen’s burning anger subsided somewhat. In its place she was surprised by a spark of pity.
“Let me tell you a story
,” Gwen said, watching Isolde. “Once upon a time there was a little girl without a mother. The little girl couldn’t understand why her mother wasn’t there. She made up stories to explain her mother’s absence. The mother had died tragically, calling out for her daughter at the end. She had amnesia and didn’t know who she was. She—” Gwen swallowed. “She had been kidnapped by the faeries, who wouldn’t let her leave.” Isolde watched Gwen, her face inscrutable. “How else could the little girl explain it? How could her mother leave her?” Gwen closed her eyes briefly. Then she looked back at Isolde. “Then the little girl grew up and learned more about the world and the people in it. She realized that no one could possibly live up to the pedestal she had placed her mother on. She learned to stand on her own two feet, with help from her friends and father.
“And really,” Gwen smiled here, a real, genuine smile as she recalled her father, “Now that I understand more, I’m so grateful you left me with Dad. He’s the best father I could ever wish for. And I’m glad to be human.”
Isolde raised her hand to her chest when Gwen smiled. She wore a look of loss and longing, so foreign to Gwen’s vision of Isolde. Gone were the confident beauty of the sketch and the dispassionate queen.
“Your smile—I could see Alan in you.” She stared a moment longer then turned away, still clutching her hand to her heart as if it pained her.
Gwen looked at her with curiosity and more than a little wonder.
“You actually loved him, didn’t you?” The words surprised her even as she spoke them aloud. Gwen had finally become used to the notion that Isolde was cold and inhuman. Now her views were being shaken once again. Perhaps her mother was capable of genuine feeling.
Isolde nodded slowly, before turning back to Gwen with her face carefully composed.
“Never before nor since have I met anyone quite like him.”
“Did you enchant him? To be with you, I mean?” Gwen was starting to see the woman Isolde had been. Still, the question had to be asked.
“No!” Isolde said with heat. Then she gave a self-conscious laugh. “Perhaps it is difficult to believe, but I was once as young and beautiful as you are now. There was no need for enchantment.”
“So why did you leave him? Why did you never come back?”
“How could I?” Isolde sounded half exasperated, half sad. “You don’t understand. Humans are seen as inferior. I was the crown princess of one of the most powerful realms in the Western Isles. My mother lent me her bridging locket and told me what I needed to do to continue the link to the human world. She had done the same, a few years before I was born. No one but the women in our family knew the truth.”
“Didn’t they wonder when you started showing in your pregnancy?”
Isolde looked a little puzzled at the question.
“Being with child is no crime. Everyone had guesses as to the father, of course, but paternity is not the important link in this realm.”
“Tell me why. Why did you choose my father? Why did you choose Alan?” Gwen still couldn’t picture her father ever loving Isolde.
Isolde gazed at Gwen as if evaluating her. After a long moment she looked away and gave a heartfelt sigh at odds with her façade of detachment.
“I came into the human world not knowing what I was looking for, not really. I wandered the green hills, searching for someone who excited me, who might be worthy. What he might look like, I did not know.
“Then one clear day, when the veil of mist and rain had parted briefly to brighten the world, I came across a young man with an easel before him.”
Gwen hardly breathed. This was her father’s story. She knew it by heart, but to hear it through another’s voice was bizarre.
“He was so different from anyone I knew, yet he seemed as familiar as if I had always known him. His chestnut brown hair gleamed in the sunlight, and his eyes were both dreaming and intent. Occasionally he would stick the tip of his tongue out in concentration.” Gwen smiled. She knew exactly what Isolde meant.
“I fell in love then and there,” Isolde said simply. “Silly, isn’t it? I introduced myself and the rest is history. I performed no enchantments over him, save only the ones every woman casts, human or Breenan. I like to think he loved me too, as much as one can after only a week.” She shrugged. “I had to leave him. I never truly entertained any other option. It could never be.
“Just as I could never keep you. My own mother ingrained that in me very early on, and all throughout my pregnancy. I never questioned it. How could a half-blood survive here? What would people say? It would have been cruel both to me and to you to keep you here.”
Gwen gazed at her. She felt very old suddenly, weary.
“You shouldn’t care so much what people think. You miss out on a lot of life that way.” She sighed. “Trust me, I speak from experience.” She thought of the barrier around her core, protecting her from what others might think of her ‘strangeness,’ taking away her ability to feel deeply and immerse herself in life fully.
They stared at each other, emotion playing beneath Isolde’s mask of composure.
“I’ve always wanted a daughter,” Isolde said quietly.
“You’ve always had one,” Gwen replied. Then she added, “I’ve always longed for my mother.”
Isolde’s face worked before she collected herself once again. She said haltingly, “I know—I know nothing can give back time. But if there is anything—anything at all…”
Gwen nodded slowly.
“There is one thing.” Her eyes travelled down to Isolde’s neck. “The locket. I’d like the locket.” She brought her eyes back up to Isolde’s face to gauge her reaction. Isolde’s eyes widened and she instinctively grasped at the locket. Gwen pressed on. “It’s mine, anyway. You made the locket with my hair, and my father’s paintings, so that anyone possessing the locket could use it to go through a portal doorway. The purpose of the loophole was so children could see their parents. You’ve never once used it for that purpose. You have given me nothing, ever.”
“Save for your life,” Isolde said softly.
“For your own agenda? Please excuse me if I don’t express my gratitude on bended knee.” Gwen held out her hand. She was pleased that it didn’t tremble, and that her voice was strong and sure. “This kidnapping of humans has to stop. It’s cruel and wrong. I saved my friend, but I can’t leave here knowing that you can do the same thing to other innocent people in the future.” Gwen kept her hand out.
Isolde stared at Gwen’s outstretched palm. She said, “I must give up what is not mine to gain what I’ve never had.” Gwen recognized her words as those in the flower message Loniel had woven into her hair. Isolde’s eyes moved up to Gwen’s face. “What will I gain?” Her voice was more curious than greedy.
“The knowledge that you’re doing the right thing. And the beginnings of respect from your daughter.”
Gwen’s arm started to ache, but she kept it outstretched. Isolde looked into Gwen’s eyes for a long moment. Finally, she reached up behind her neck to unfasten the clasp of the locket. She placed the locket in Gwen’s hand, letting the fine gold chain pour into a pile on top. Isolde stared at the locket and swallowed hard.
“Thank you,” Gwen said softly, her fingers closing over the metal warmed by Isolde’s skin.
“Wait,” Isolde said, and she pulled out a tiny dagger that had been concealed beneath the sash around her middle. It was no longer than a finger, the miniature gilded hilt topped with a blue sapphire on the pommel. Isolde pricked her index finger so a drop of blood beaded on the tip. She held it up, and the two of them watched the red sphere balance precariously. Isolde reached out with her other hand and grasped Gwen’s wrist that held the locket. She touched the bead of blood to the locket where it left a wet streak on the polished metal.
“The blood of womanhood, the blood of childbirth, and the blood of death. You are a child of my blood, and I give it all to you.”
Gwen looked at her curiously, recognizing the words
from the marking ceremony, but Isolde just smiled and stepped back. Gwen turned to the side and stretched out her arm, imagining her father. A wide portal opened with a faint ripping noise, clearly audible in the silent wooden room.
“You are a remarkable woman,” Isolde said unexpectedly. Gwen turned to her, surprised, as Isolde continued, “I’m glad to have known you, if only for this short time.”
Gwen’s heart was full to bursting with a mix of so many feelings, she couldn’t identify them. She looked at Isolde’s emotion-filled face and felt pity, tinged with a faint longing for a life she had never had. Then she thought of her father, and her life in the human world, and Ellie. This woman she had never known, who had given her up without a second thought, who had only conceived her for opening portals—that woman had made her choices, and Gwen was now fiercely glad she had.
She lifted her chin and smiled at Isolde.
“Goodbye, mother,” she said finally.
Isolde’s breath caught.
“Farewell, my daughter,” she said, her face a tableau of loss and regret, touched with pride.
Gwen turned and walked through the portal. It wove itself shut, closing off the Otherworld.
Chapter 22
Gwen blinked in the brilliant sun. The barley tickled her ankles and a fresh breeze brushed by her face, so different from the close wooden room.
“Gwen!” A strangled voice called to her. She shielded her eyes as red hair and a black cape descended on her. She was enveloped in Aidan’s arms. He trembled as he hugged her fiercely. She leaned into him and closed her eyes, relaxing for the first time in what felt like forever.
They swayed together on the spot until Gwen recalled Ellie.
“I need to go see if Ellie’s okay,” she said, pulling herself away from Aidan regretfully. She was tired, so bone-numbingly exhausted. She had no more adrenaline reserves to draw on.
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