Isolde had chosen her role over her lover, her child—of course she wouldn’t understand Gwen’s reluctance to leave the people she loved to dwell in a land of strangers. Isolde looked as if she wanted to say more, but Gwen’s tight face must have convinced her otherwise. They remained in awkward silence, Isolde on the couch and Gwen standing at the door, until Alan stepped in beside Gwen with Ada behind him in a plush violet dressing gown.
“Good evening, Isolde,” Ada said with dignity. “My name is Ada Smith. I am Gwen’s great-aunt.”
Isolde gave her a regal nod.
“I am pleased to make your acquaintance.”
“Gwen.” Ada leaned toward Gwen and whispered in her ear. “Shall I say she can stay? What’s your preference? I don’t wish to distress you.”
“Thanks, Aunty Ada,” Gwen said. “I don’t mind. Thank you for having her. I know it’s a lot to ask.”
Ada waved Gwen’s comment away, then addressed Isolde.
“I hear you’re in need of a bed tonight. I can accommodate you. If you’ll follow me.”
“I thank you,” said Isolde formally to Ada. She tried to catch Gwen’s eye, but Gwen looked away. Instead, she put a tentative hand on Alan’s arm.
“Thank you for your help,” she said.
Alan nodded stiffly and moved his arm away.
“You’re welcome.”
Isolde quickly followed Ada, her skirts swishing on the floor behind her. Gwen heaved a huge sigh when she was gone.
“Time for bed?” Alan said. “Perhaps when we wake up we’ll find that this whole evening was a terrible dream.”
“Here’s hoping.” Gwen rubbed her eyes. “I’ll call Aidan first. Get him thinking of solutions. Three heads are better than two, right?”
***
Bran stared at the wooden slats of the barn roof with an expression of mindless contentment. The hayloft was dusty and cold, but there was comfortable hay under his back and he wore a toasty fur cloak. Motes of dust drifted across an errant sunbeam. Bran bit into an autumn apple. It didn’t crunch, exactly—it was too old and wrinkled for that—but what it lacked in crispness it made up in sweetness.
“Have you tamed that new colt yet, Snowleaf’s foal?” he asked his companions with idle interest. Two stable hands lounged on their own hay piles, finishing the apples Bran had passed around.
“Almost,” one said. “He’s a fiery one. Shouldn’t be too much longer, though. Who’s he destined for?”
“He’s such a beauty,” said the other. “Definitely meant for a great lord. Not you, then, Bran.”
Bran flicked his apple core at the stable hand, who laughed when it hit him in the chest.
“Bran?” An annoyed voice drifted up to the hayloft. Bran said nothing. A moment later, the blond head of Bran’s brother Owen appeared through an opening in the floor.
“I thought I’d find you here.” He vaulted up the last rungs and dusted off his trousers. “It’s where you come when you’re shirking your duties. As usual.”
“And why are you looking?” Bran idly twirled his fingers, and Owen’s ponytail began to twist and swirl, dancing to unheard music. The stable hands unsuccessfully hid their snickers behind their hands.
When Owen realized what Bran was doing, he clamped one hand on his wildly swinging hair and the other he threw forward in a defensive gesture. A wave of power slammed against Bran, and Owen’s hair calmed.
Bran grinned, unruffled.
“You warded me? Where’s the fun in that? Surely even you can do better.”
Owen ignored Bran’s comment.
“Father’s summoned us. Something about the extra patrols, I think. Come on, they’re all waiting for us.”
In the main hall, bright winter light streamed through translucent windows onto Bran’s waiting brothers.
“I am here,” Bran announced. “You may begin.”
A few laughed, and a couple of sparks flew Bran’s way. He dodged them with a grin.
A door opened along the back of the hall and Faolan paced out. His usually immaculate silver-flecked hair was ruffled, and his sleeves were rolled to the elbows. Lanterns flickered behind Faolan before the door closed firmly.
Faolan strode to the center of the empty hall, to where his sons were assembled. His face was creased in concern.
“Are more patrols needed, Father?” asked Owen.
“Hmm? No, not as such.” Faolan’s lips drew into a thin line. “I’ve sensed disturbances for the past few days. Irregularities in the earth paths. They all come from the Velvet Woods.”
“Velvet Woods again?” said Kelan, the youngest brother next to Bran. His short blond hair glinted in the pale light. “I thought they were sorted out.”
“So did I,” said Faolan.
“Any ideas what’s happening?” said Crevan.
“Unfortunately, no. That is why I called you here. I need spies I trust to investigate. The patrols report that defenses in the Velvet Woods are crumbling, so there should be few organized impediments. Crevan, Delwyn, and Lir will travel as official visitors and approach from the north. Owen and Turi, you will journey by stealth from the west.”
“I’ll join the stealth group,” Bran said quickly.
Faolan narrowed his eyes at Bran.
“I think not. You gave me your word that you wouldn’t travel through a portal, but temptation is a difficult beast to master. You will stay here and help me further examine the signals coming from the room of enchantments. Kelan, you too. Three will give us more power.” Faolan ignored Bran’s crestfallen face and waved at his other sons. “Go, now. Find answers as swiftly as you can.”
***
A chill wind tousled Gwen’s hair below her knitted winter hat, but she was glad they were in the garden. Aidan’s mum was lovely, but Gwen needed to talk to Aidan alone. Suddenly, she ached for Vancouver and time alone with Aidan. She hugged herself.
Aidan swiped at a frigid-looking rhododendron with uncharacteristic fury.
“I can’t believe Isolde would make you her heir. Without telling you.” He glanced at the sky as if thinking. “Oh, wait, yes I can. Bloody typical.”
Gwen was quiet. What was there to say? It was all true. Gwen had been shocked to her core at Isolde’s announcement, but when the initial amazement had worn off, she hadn’t been surprised at Isolde’s thoughtless actions.
“And to say that ‘people are suffering,’” Aidan continued. “It’s manipulation, is what it is. She knows you’ll want to help. She’s using your humanity against you. It worked in the summer, didn’t it? Bloody scheming woman.” He kicked a loose pebble with enough force that it ricocheted off the garden fence.
“I don’t think it’s like that. She gave me that locket back in the spring, the one that let Corann make portals to capture humans. That was before the realm fell apart. Fell apart the first time, that is. I don’t think she planned to need help again in this way.” After the words left her mouth, Gwen wondered why she was defending Isolde’s actions.
“Even so, all of this is Isolde’s fault. She is completely irresponsible. She should have figured out the succession long before a chance encounter with you. She should have sorted out the realm after the restoration spell. It’s insane. Why can’t she get her own house in order? Why does she expect you to clean up her messes?”
Gwen shook her head and brought her hand to her eyes. It was insane. Her life had been a room full of open doors. Now all had slammed shut except for one.
“It doesn’t matter now whose fault it is, does it? There’s only one way to stop chaos, and I’m the only one who can do it.”
Aidan stared at her for a few long moments.
“Are you seriously considering this? Being queen of the Velvet Woods? In the Otherworld?” His breath escaped him in a puff of disbelief. Gwen turned her head to look at the top of a swaying apple tree. She couldn’t meet his beautiful green eyes any longer, full of love and hurt.
“I don’t want to talk about this.” She swallow
ed. “I can’t think about it.” How could she leave everything behind? Her life was only beginning. There was so much more to see, to do—she had only been with Aidan for a few months. What of their future? There had to be another way. She couldn’t live in the Otherworld.
Aidan paused, then enveloped her in a warm embrace that she only resisted for a moment before folding gratefully into him.
They rocked together for a minute. Gwen’s cheek pressed into the soft knit of Aidan’s sweater, and she tried not to think of the future. Aidan tensed.
“Gwen. What if we talk to Faolan?”
Gwen looked up at Aidan’s face. His eyes were bright with hope.
“Bran said Faolan was one of the most powerfully magic Breenan,” said Aidan. “Perhaps he’ll know how to fix the realm without you needing to stay.”
Gwen nodded slowly. Her chest tightened with fearful hope. Might there be a way out of this mess? Would Bran’s father have the answers they needed?
“Yes,” she breathed. “Maybe he’ll know how to change the realm’s succession, or fix the restoration spell…”
“Let’s go see him.” Aidan’s fingers gripped her waist in his determination. “We’ll get some answers.”
“One more trip to the Otherworld.” Every time Gwen left the Breenan world, she thought it would be the last time. And yet, here they were again, ready to pass through a portal once more. “I’m not looking forward to walking through the woods for days. Surely there’s a better way to get to the Wintertree realm.”
“I have an idea for that.” Aidan’s smile was the first she’d seen on him that day.
***
Aidan placed his backpack on the floor beside his shoes. Deirdre looked around at Ada’s front hallway, bare but for a long Persian rug and a watercolor of orange hills behind a placid lake. Gwen gestured at the living room.
“I’ll just be a few minutes. There’s not much to pack, thanks to your mum,” Gwen smiled at Deirdre. “We have plenty of food.”
“I’ll break my back,” Aidan said, making a show of stretching. “The jar of blackcurrant jam was excessive.”
“You’ll be thankful for it before long, I have no doubt,” Deirdre said. She chivvied Aidan into the living room. “We’ll wait for you here, Gwen. I’d like to meet your father and hear the plan.”
Gwen raced up the steps and knocked firmly on the guestroom door.
“You may enter,” said Isolde faintly from inside. Gwen swung the door open and gave her mother only a cursory glance before she turned to the dresser for clothes. Isolde lay on Gwen’s bed, dressed incongruously in a spare pair of Gwen’s jeans and a loose cardigan of Ada’s. The white ballgown hung over a chair, ripped and stained beyond redemption. Isolde stared at the ceiling, her face pale and her long black locks strewn across the pillow.
Gwen threw spare underwear and shirts into a backpack borrowed from Deirdre. She had shoved her toothbrush in the front pouch before Isolde spoke again.
“You are preparing for a journey,” she stated without inflection. “Where will you go?”
“The Otherworld, obviously, to fix your mess.” Gwen didn’t bother to hide her irritation. Hadn’t Isolde guessed what Gwen would do? Isn’t that why Isolde had made her the heir, had come here to foist the weight of responsibility directly on her shoulders? Because she knew Gwen would take it on? Gwen ground her teeth and shoved her hairbrush deep into the backpack.
Isolde said nothing else, and Gwen shut the door behind her with more force than necessary. She trotted downstairs and heard her father’s voice.
“Ah, Gwen,” Alan said when she entered the living room. “I was just chatting with Aidan and his mother Deirdre.” He looked searchingly at her. “What’s happening?”
“Dad.” She swallowed, then forged ahead. “Aidan and I are going to the Otherworld for a little while. I need to figure out what to do about the succession.”
“Gwen, you don’t need to do anything.” Her father clenched his fists and glanced toward the stairs with frustration. “Anything that happens now is entirely on Isolde’s head. She had no right to put anything on you.”
Gwen took his hands in hers and smoothed out the tight fingers.
“Dad, I know,” she said gently. “I don’t have to do anything. It’s all Isolde’s fault. But she’s out of commission, and the worlds are ripping apart. I might be able to help. How can I say no?”
Alan gazed at her.
“How was I blessed with such a strong, beautiful daughter?” he whispered. “I don’t want you to throw your life away in the Otherworld.”
Gwen exhaled sharply in a little laugh.
“I have no intention of taking Isolde’s throne, not unless it’s the very last option. No, Aidan and I are going to see Faolan. Maybe he can figure out how to remove the succession magic or fix the portal rips. If anyone knows, he will.”
Alan nodded slowly, but the worried expression did not leave his face.
“I still don’t like you going back there again. I know you’ve done it before, but you’ve risked it so many times—surely you’re pushing your luck.”
“If I might interrupt,” Deirdre said softly. Alan turned to look at her and she put her hands up. “I know, I don’t like the idea of these two traipsing off to another world either. Especially since yesterday was the first I’d ever heard of it.” She threw a glance at Aidan, who looked abashed. “I saw Aidan fend off three massive wolves. Wolves, of all things! If their—magic,” her mouth was clearly uncomfortable with the word. “Can achieve that, my fears are appeased. Slightly.”
Alan’s mouth was tight, but he eventually nodded.
“It’s powerful, but the others are more powerful still. I’ll come with you this time. I may not have magic, but I can help protect you all the same.”
“You can’t,” Gwen said at once. “If you’re in the Otherworld, I can’t make a portal to get back. Then we’re relying on Aidan’s connection. If anything happened to Deirdre, we would be stuck there, just like my uncle was.” This wasn’t entirely true, as she could escape the Otherworld through the torn portals that were cropping up with greater and greater frequency. But the thought of her father in the Otherworld frightened her. There was too much overlap between her worlds as it was, and she needed to know that he would be there, waiting for her to return.
Alan sighed and rubbed his face.
“If you must go, keep your head down. And,” he put his hand on Gwen’s shoulder. “None of this disappear-for-a-week nonsense. You make a portal and call me every day. Understand?”
Gwen gave him a reassuring smile.
“Good idea. This is a planned trip, we can be prepared.”
“And we won’t be traveling through the Otherworld this time,” Aidan added. “At least, not as much. I think Faolan’s palace is in Bury St. Edmunds, or close by. We can take the train right there and walk the remainder.”
“Look for the Crescent Lake,” said a voice from the hallway. Gwen turned sharply to see Isolde leaning against the doorway, her face pale.
“That’s Gwen’s mum,” Aidan whispered to Deirdre. “From the Otherworld.” Deirdre nodded, her wide eyes raking over Isolde with intense curiosity.
“If one is to believe the stories,” Isolde said. “The Crescent Lake is one of the few obvious landmarks that are unchanged between the two worlds, along with the shoreline of the Whitecliff realm, and a few others. The Crescent Lake is to the east of the Wintertree capital.”
“That sounds like Ampton Water, in Great Livermere,” Deirdre said. “Does it have a tiny lake at the north end?”
Isolde nodded.
“Then you can take the train to Bury St. Edmunds, and take a cab to Great Livermere,” said Deirdre. “You’ll practically land on top of it.”
Gwen looked at Aidan, who raised an eyebrow.
“Ready for a meet and greet with your favorite Breenan king?”
“I guess I’ll have to be,” she replied. “I packed that ridiculous tiara, so we ca
n ask him what he meant by giving it to me.”
“What’s this?” Deirdre asked. Gwen rustled in her backpack and extracted a leather-wrapped bundle, which she carefully unfolded to reveal the tiara. It was rose gold, with an intricate working of blue sapphires and emeralds in the form of flowers and leaves. It looked impossibly expensive.
“A gift from Faolan after we saved his son Bran. Aidan hid it at your house, so I wouldn’t have to explain it at customs. Faolan accompanied it with some cryptic words about me needing it.”
“He knew I had no other potential heirs,” Isolde said. “He would have guessed that you would be the only choice.”
Her knees buckled then, and she caught herself on the door frame. Alan leaped up and helped her to the couch. Gwen shuffled over to make some distance between herself and Isolde. Even weak and defenseless, Isolde still felt dangerous to Gwen.
“I was going to ask why Isolde couldn’t go see this Faolan,” said Alan as he perched on the coffee table. “But I guess we have our answer.”
“Corann was right.” Isolde put her head in her hands. “My magic was drained out of me, and my strength with it. My recovery will be slow.”
Gwen ignored her. She had no patience for Isolde’s moaning or her self-reflections. She was surprised to see her father’s hand touch Isolde’s shoulder tentatively, and turned to Aidan to avoid the uncomfortable sight.
“Ready to go? How often do the trains run?”
“Every hour, I believe,” Deirdre said.
“No time like the present.” Aidan shouldered his pack. “Let’s find the Crescent Lake, also known as Ampton Water.”
***
Alan shut the door behind Aidan, Deirdre, and his daughter with a soft click. He leaned his forehead against the closed door briefly with eyes tightly shut. Then he heaved a great sigh and slowly walked to the living room.
Isolde stood beside the dying fire, facing the hallway. Gwen’s borrowed jeans rode above the ankle on her longer legs, and Ada’s oversized cardigan hung askew on her shoulders. She looked awkward, diminished, a far cry from the raven-haired beauty Alan had first met on the hill so many years ago, or even the confident queen Gwen had described from the Otherworld. Alan looked at her for a long minute, then sighed again.
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