Aidan joined her on the floor after a minute. There was little else to do, after all.
“I suppose we wait and hope that Tristan and Rhiannon can get us out of this mess,” he said finally into the silence.
Gwen nodded.
“At least we brought Bran back. Maybe Faolan can save him. And if Bran wakes up, he won’t let us stay down here.”
“No. If he doesn’t wake up, though…” Aidan left the thought unfinished. Gwen shivered.
***
The half hour that elapsed felt like years before the silence in their prison was interrupted by the scraping of the opening trapdoor. Gwen and Aidan leaped to their feet. Light streamed in from the round hole. Silhouetted against it were the heads of two guards.
“The king wants to see you,” one of the guards said without preamble. “Come.”
Gwen climbed up the rope ladder, swaying precariously until she grasped the top. The guards hauled her up unceremoniously by her arms and deposited her on her feet. Another guard encircled her forearm with a tight grip.
“Nothing tricky,” the guard said. “You won’t get far.”
When Aidan had been hauled up and his arm firmly ensconced in another guard’s hand, they proceeded back down the hall. The great double doors loomed menacingly ahead, and Gwen’s hands trembled. What would happen? Aidan tripped behind her and the guard cursed. Gwen winced when Aidan grunted in pain. She turned to look, but her guard wrenched her forward.
Gwen was pulled through the double doors again, to a similar scene as before. Faolan paced in the center of the room. His sons still clustered around the table, but this time they were focused on Bran, who lay supine on the wooden slab as if for a viewing. Tristan and Rhiannon were among them, but looked up with concern once Gwen and Aidan were in sight. Faolan ceased his movement at their entry.
“Bring them here,” he said. The guards roughly brought Gwen forward and left her, ten paces in front of Faolan. Aidan landed beside her and brushed off his sleeve where the guard had gripped him. Faolan moved toward them slowly, with deliberation. Gwen stiffened, unsure what to do. Would he hurt them somehow? Gwen couldn’t see any sign of a weapon, but Bran had said that his father was particularly adept at magic. He could be capable of anything.
Faolan approached Aidan first and reached out to his left shoulder. Aidan flinched.
“Hold still,” Faolan said, iron behind his words. Aidan froze and allowed Faolan to draw down the neck of his shirt. Faolan considered Aidan’s mark for a moment, his eyes raking over the green tattoo, before he stepped back and nodded.
“A son of Declan, that is certain.” He turned to Gwen and reached for her shoulder. She tensed, but tried not to show her discomfort as Faolan’s cool fingers traced her skin to expose her shoulder. He spent longer on her mark than Aidan’s, and she took the opportunity to study him. It was puzzling to recognize the shape of Bran’s grinning features in the unforgiving lines of Faolan’s face.
“And a daughter of Isolde, of the Velvet Woods,” Faolan said. He stepped back and regarded her. Gwen shrugged her shirt back into place. “Tristan informed me of your journey thus far, and your self-appointed quest to restore your mother’s realm by seeking out Isle Caengal.” He looked at her thoughtfully. “The spells on that island are reputed to be many, and diverse. But rumors tell of a spell beyond all others, a powerful spell of restoration for those of pure intention. This spell, if it exists, would indeed heal both the Velvet Woods and my youngest son. I will permit you to leave my realm, on the condition that you continue to seek out this restoration spell and first use it to restore good health upon Bran. Then you may restore the Velvet Woods if you wish.”
“Do you know anything else about Isle Caengal?” Gwen asked. She had a hard time believing Faolan would let them go. He sounded as if he knew more about the island than anyone they had met so far, though, so she wasn’t going to let an opportunity pass to find out more.
Faolan shrugged.
“The Isle is veiled in dark rumors and stories meant to frighten. I have had little reason to investigate until this point—the Isle does not lie within my realm, and I have power enough to rule without resorting to outside aid. Besides, I have no desire to face the trials.”
“Trials?” Aidan said.
“The legends state that the Isle does not give up its secrets easily. Some form of testing is in place to ensure only those of purest intent may pass. A cousin of mine attempted to access the Isle many years ago. He was a simple-minded fool, and no doubt wanted the power to overthrow me. He never returned. Of course, you two will not face the same issue.” Faolan smiled thinly. “However, I have one condition. Declan’s son I will take on faith, despite his dubious half-breed status. But you,” he said to Gwen. “You must prove your sincerity. Find the cure and I will release you.” He waved to a servant on the edge of the hall, who came forward bearing a golden bracelet of fine filigree. She grasped Gwen’s arm and slid the bracelet onto her wrist. With a smooth gesture, the woman wound her fingers around the bracelet. Horrified, Gwen watched the bracelet shrink and mold itself to fit her wrist perfectly. When the reworking was complete, the woman stepped back without a word.
“What is this? What did you do?”
“A device of my own invention,” Faolan said. He watched her without expression. “The magic within is connected to Bran’s life. If he ceases to be, so do you. It’s simply a precaution on my part, to ensure you do your best to obtain the cure and do not return to the human world before you heal my son. Time is not a luxury he has at present. Oh, yes, one final touch.” He strode forward and grasped Gwen’s wrist before she had time to react. A yellow light shimmered over his fingers and onto the bracelet, where it sunk into the metal and disappeared. Faolan released Gwen’s arm with a contemptuous flick. “Do not attempt to re-enter the human world while you wear this bracelet. You will not live long enough to regret the decision.”
Gwen’s mouth gaped open incredulously. Did Faolan think she was a heartless monster? Hadn’t her actions up until now shown her dedication to helping Bran?
“I want Bran healed and Isolde’s realm saved as much as anyone. That’s all I’ve been doing since I arrived in the Otherworld. What else do I need to do to prove myself?”
“Succeed in your quest,” Faolan said simply. “Find the cure. Do it quickly.”
Chapter 10
Faolan’s dispassionate eyes gazed at Gwen. Gwen felt numb, but horror flickered at the edges. She looked around wildly at Aidan and Tristan, both of whom appeared shell-shocked, and at Rhiannon, whose calm face had creased in a small frown of concern. Gwen’s eyes darted back to Faolan, her mind still at a loss for words.
“I suggest you hurry,” Faolan said. “Bran’s health is rapidly deteriorating, and your mother will not survive for long.”
Gwen frowned, her mind whirling.
“What do you mean, my mother won’t survive for long? What’s wrong with her?”
Faolan looked at her with mild curiosity.
“Are you not aware of how the defenses of the Velvet Woods are arranged?” Gwen shook her head. Isolde hadn’t looked well, but Gwen had thought that it was due to another sickness, or perhaps sadness at the state of the realm. “So much of the realm is supported through magical means. When all is well, this method ensures strong defenses and lasting prosperity without the need to maintain armies and farms. However, when the magic is disrupted, there is little to be done. The magic to support the realm arises from the current ruler—in this case, your mother. The realm and Isolde are irrevocably linked while she still rules. If the realm suffers, so does she. And from the reports of my border patrol, failure of the realm is imminent. Already, the realms of Whitecliff and Riverside prepare to invade the Velvet Woods, along with my own army, of course. The day the realm fails and outside armies march within, Isolde’s reign and life will end.”
Gwen blinked in disbelief at Faolan’s words.
“She didn’t say anything. I mean, she look
ed sick, but…” Why had Isolde not told her? Did she not want to worry Gwen? Or did she think Gwen wouldn’t have cared? Gwen wasn’t sure what she felt. Isolde was her mother in the biological sense, but she had never been a part of Gwen’s life. When they had met, Isolde was not the loving mother-figure Gwen had longed for. Still, she felt a strange bond with the arrogant, beautiful woman her father had once loved.
Another consideration sprang to Gwen’s mind. Without Isolde, Gwen was cut off from entering the Otherworld. Isolde was Gwen’s anchor to the Otherworld, her only tie to the Breenan lands and the reason she could make portals. Her father flitted across her mind’s eye. What if she were barred from entering the human world? Her anchors, Isolde and her father, now seemed so fragile. What if she were trapped in the Otherworld forever?
All of these unwelcome thoughts spun through Gwen’s mind in a second, leaving her disoriented and shaken.
Faolan looked impatient.
“You may travel freely through my lands and in the Longshore realm, with whom I have a peace treaty. Go, now. Your hours are numbered.” He nodded to Tristan and Rhiannon, gave Aidan a passing glance, and walked over to Bran on his table.
A hand tugged Gwen’s elbow. She turned, and Tristan pulled her toward the door.
“Come on, Gwen. It’s time to go.”
Gwen looked back once after the guards had surrounded their party and walked them through the double doors. Faolan stood at Bran’s head. He stroked his son’s hair back from his forehead with an expression of naked fear. Gwen shivered.
***
Crevan shifted his weight back and forth a few times before he spoke.
“Father, why didn’t you send us to accompany the half-bloods? If there is a way to cure Bran on the isle, should we rely on inexperienced half-humans?”
“It’s a fool’s errand,” Faolan said shortly without looking up from Bran’s face. “The powerful spells on Isle Caengal are almost certainly no more than legend. Allowing the half-bloods to continue their quest removes them from here in an honorable way. Declan and Isolde will have no cause for blame.”
“But what about the bracelet?” Crevan asked, his attempt to match Faolan’s impassive tone not entirely succeeding. “If the quest is impossible, the girl will die.”
Faolan shrugged.
“It was a reasonable precaution. I did not say the quest was impossible, only highly unlikely to succeed given the lack of verifiable information about the isle. Perhaps they may yet succeed, and Bran will be saved due to their efforts. If not, well, Isolde is hardly in a state to bother about the welfare of an unacknowledged half-breed child.” He looked at Crevan. “I need you—all of you—to alert Lord Maddoc, Lady Oriana, all of the most powerful magical Breenan in the realm. I need them here, to consult about possible healing measures for Bran.”
“But no one has ever recovered from overuse of magic,” Crevan said quietly.
“Silence!” Faolan thundered, his eyes wide and his calm extinguished. “Leave now and bring me who I require!”
Crevan nodded silently, pity in his eyes. With a last look at his youngest brother, stretched on the wooden table with a peaceful expression on his face, he nodded at his other brothers. They filed out and left Faolan to kneel at Bran’s head in the empty hall.
***
Gwen’s heart pounded and her stomach was hollow during their march to the gates of Faolan’s house. The treacherous bracelet was cool on her skin—how long would Bran last? Gwen began to shake. Aidan looked at her in concern, but didn’t approach her until the guards pointed them out of the double doors into the brilliant sunlight of Faolan’s bustling town and handed Rhiannon the reins of their horses.
Rhiannon passed Gwen her reins, but remained silent. Tristan swung himself into his saddle before he spoke.
“We’d better get moving. The border of the Longshore realm is still a few hours away, and we don’t have much time.”
Gwen gazed at him, her mind turning this declaration over. She tried to extract meaning through her fog of dread.
“You mean—you’re coming with us?”
Tristan and Rhiannon glanced at each other before Tristan turned to Gwen.
“Of course. We’re not about to abandon you now. Besides,” he cracked a strained version of his usual jovial grin. “Impossible adventures are just my style.”
“You’ll need our help,” Rhiannon added. “You’re both very underprepared for life here. Besides, Aidan is family—and we don’t let family down.”
Aidan, quiet until now, said, “Thank you. Thank you both.” He touched Gwen’s arm gently and offered his hands as a foothold. She squeezed his shoulder and mounted her horse, grateful he was here. Tristan and Rhiannon would be invaluable, but she needed Aidan’s presence.
“Tristan,” she said. “Can’t we do something about the bracelet? Magic it off, somehow?”
Tristan shook his head.
“Faolan is uncommonly powerful. There’s no way I’d have the ability to thwart a spell of his making. And I wouldn’t want to try, in case my meddling set the spell in motion.”
“Gwen.” Aidan pointed to her hand. “What’s happened to your ring?”
Gwen glanced at Bran’s tracker ring on her thumb. The once bright copper was now pale and somehow insubstantial. Tristan grabbed her hand and examined the ring.
“Is this Bran’s?”
“Yes.”
Tristan sighed and let go.
“As Bran’s health worsens, the ring will fade—it’s made of magic, and is connected to him. When he passes, the ring will disappear.”
Gwen stared at him in horror.
“But it’s so faded already.”
“Then we’d better move quickly.”
Their ride out of town was silent amid the noise of the bustling townsfolk. No one gave them a second glance now that they were no longer being dragged through the streets by guards.
Past the main gates of the town, the noise of the multitudes faded behind them until the soft clopping of their horses’ hooves on the earthen track was the only sound. Gwen wanted to break the silence, but she didn’t know what to say. The bracelet was heavy and unyielding on her wrist.
At a fork in the road, Rhiannon trotted to the forefront of their group.
“This way to the Longshore realm. If we speed up a little, we can be on the shores near Isle Caengal by dusk.”
“Good,” Gwen said through her dry throat. Her voice was tight and strange in her ears, as if long-unused. She cleared it roughly. “What else do you two know about this island? What’s its story? Why the trials?”
Tristan pointed to his sister.
“Rhiannon will know more than me. She used to live near it, after all.”
Rhiannon frowned, but it was an expression of thoughtfulness, not annoyance.
“There are legends, nothing more. I’m trying to remember, but it’s been so long since…” Her lips tightened almost imperceptibly, and Gwen remembered with a pang that Rhiannon only went to live with Declan in the Wintertree realm when her mother died. Rhiannon continued, ignoring the pause. “If I remember rightly, the stories say that there were two queens, hundreds of years ago. One was a Breenan, Lady Maeve, highly skilled in magic. The other was a human woman, a powerful queen in her own land. This was many years before the closing of the portals, back when it was simple to travel between the worlds, if you knew the way.
“The queens were great friends, one often staying with the other for long stretches. The human queen was an inventor, constantly dreaming up new ways to better the worlds, often using the magic of the Breenan queen. Together they created many new, powerful spells.” Rhiannon shrugged. “That’s all the stories say. Oh, and that Lady Maeve raised Isle Caengal from the sea, built her castle on it, and put a strong protection magic over it all. That’s why no one can set foot on the island.”
“Protection for what, I wonder?” Aidan leaned forward with interest. “Protection for this restoration spell?”
&
nbsp; “I don’t understand,” Gwen said. “Why does it need to be protected? It sounds like a decent spell. What’s the harm in letting it loose on the world?”
“It’s probably not the only spell there. Who knows what the queens dreamed up? Assuming the legends are true, that is.” Rhiannon clamped her lips shut after a glare from Tristan, and she looked contrite.
Gwen’s interest in the island’s history subsided once the bracelet again rose to the foreground of her mind. The spell had to be real. Any other possibility didn’t bear thinking about. A fierce hate rose in her for Faolan, not tempered in the slightest by the knowledge that he had done what he did for love of his son.
Aidan glanced at the changing passions on Gwen’s face with a worried expression.
“How far to the island?” he asked Rhiannon.
“A few hours yet,” she said quietly. Tristan turned to grin at Aidan.
“Better get comfortable on that horse.”
***
By the time the sun approached the horizon in the cloud-streaked sky, shooting rays of magenta and fiery orange across the zenith, Gwen was too tired and sore to worry about the bracelet. They had crossed the border only an hour before, but to Gwen it might as well have been a week. Her legs and bottom screamed at her, and her inner thighs were rubbed raw from the hours of straddling her horse.
The landscape after the border was not substantially different from the Wintertree realm, with rolling hills alternately covered by sweeping, deciduous forests of vibrant autumn hues and dry, waving grasses. There were no signs of habitation until the scent of the sea wafted into Gwen’s nostrils with the stiffening breeze.
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