“We can’t follow protocol as precisely as we might like this time, Thomas.”
“Meaning…?”
Mitchell closed his eyes for a moment, as if staving off an unpleasant reality. “She’s coming with us.”
“What?” Thomas demanded. I looked from one of them to the other, alarmed. “That’s insane! They kidnapped her, she’s scared out of her mind. And you want to—why?”
Mitchell hesitated. “Thomas… I know this is difficult to understand, but they had good reason for what they did.”
“What reason? This is exactly the sort of thing we’re not supposed to let happen! What about the Pact, shouldn’t she be protected under it?”
“She will not come to any harm,” said Mitchell firmly. “And yes, once we have completed our task, we will send her home.”
“It’s the Unseelie Court!”
“There are laws to protect guests there, as you know. Listen,” said Mitchell, cutting off another protest. “I am asking you to trust me. Can you do that?”
Thomas took a slow breath. “I don’t understand,” he said, voice low.
“I know. You remember Ainwick? Or the nachtrapp?”
“Yes…”
“I wasn’t able to explain the situation fully to you on those occasions either, not until they were over.” Thomas nodded again, though he still looked unhappy. “I promise you, the stakes of this mission are far, far higher than any we’ve dealt with before. Success is absolutely necessary.”
Thomas glanced over at me, brow furrowed. “I just… can’t think of any good reason for bringing her.”
“Her presence will raise our chances of success considerably. I cannot tell you more than that.” Thomas hesitated, then nodded.
“Um, hello?” I said. My voice was embarrassingly shaky. Mitchell looked at me as if he’d forgotten about my existence. I gave a little wave. “I’m still here.”
“Yes,” said Mitchell reluctantly. “You should know that I’ve exacted certain promises regarding your safety from Dietrich and Isana. If you cooperate, you should have nothing to fear from them.”
Thomas looked relieved, but I just looked at Mitchell incredulously. “Good to know,” I said. He nodded, apparently missing the sarcasm. “Where exactly are you planning on taking me?”
He looked at me appraisingly, probably trying to decide how close I was to cracking. Spoiler: I was close. Very, very close.
“Sir, she’s more likely to panic if she isn’t forewarned,” said Thomas quietly.
Mitchell frowned, then nodded. He turned back to me. “How much do you know of fae?”
What? “Umm… like fairies?” I asked tentatively.
“And trolls, and gnomes, and unicorns, and banshees…” supplied Thomas. I felt a little faint. Mitchell sent him a quelling look.
“I don’t know anything more than what I read in children’s books,” I said. Even that was fuzzy. “You’re saying those are all real?” I asked, my voice small.
“Those and more,” said Mitchell.
“Hold on. I have a copy of the Bestiary in the sitting room,” Thomas said. He darted off to the house. I considered standing but still felt weak in the knees. I have never claimed to be made of particularly stern stuff.
Mitchell sighed, watching Thomas go. “He’s correct that we would send you home immediately in most circumstances,” he told me. “I’m sorry that it isn’t the case right now. But we simply cannot afford to fail in our work.”
“Umm…” I shook my head. “What—what work is that, exactly?”
“You should consider sorcerers to be something like ambassadors between the fae and mortals,” he said. “And sometimes enforcers of the laws that protect mortals from predatory fae.” The glass-paned door opened again, and Thomas trotted back out, holding a book. “Though we are not always successful,” Mitchell added quietly, watching Thomas.
“Here,” said Thomas, passing me the book, a thick paperback with a line drawing of a griffin superimposed over a seven-pointed star on the front. “This describes most magical creatures and fae found in Europe and the British Isles. It’s a newer edition, so it includes notes from recent sorcerers about their encounters. It’s a good primer.”
I swallowed as I flipped a few pages over. The book was several hundred pages long, and it looked as if there were several entries per page. Each one containing information on a supernatural creature that I hadn’t even known existed. “This is a primer?”
“You’ll only need to focus on the ones in the British Isles,” Thomas explained. “Since…” He stopped and looked at Mitchell. Mitchell nodded reluctantly.
“What?” I asked.
“The fae here—in Ireland—are organized into two courts,” said Thomas. “Although there are solitary and wild fae, most owe allegiance to one of two rulers: Titania of the Seelie or Aerenia of the Unseelie.”
“Hold on,” I said. “What happened to Mab?” Both Mitchell and Thomas looked dumbfounded at the question.
“How did you know about…”
“I’ve read a lot of Shakespeare.” Actually, I’ve read a lot of everything. Some people might have called my attachment to reading shameless escapism. Those people would be right. Reading and playing cello had been my two main coping mechanisms for years. “You mentioned Queen Titania. She’s described in A Midsummer Night’s Dream. ‘Lord what fools these mortals be!’ and all that…” I trailed off. Babbling again. “So… she’s real?” I asked, the lightheaded feeling returning.
“In a sense,” said Mitchell. “Fae do not use their real names; they use aliases or titles, since knowing the true name of a fae gives one power over it. After Shakespeare, mortals commonly adopted the names of Titania and Mab—or Maeve—to refer to the two great fae queens. Maeve, however, no longer rules. Aerenia is her successor.”
“Or usurper,” muttered Thomas.
“In any case,” continued Mitchell, “Titania and Aerenia rule over the Seelie and Unseelie courts, respectively. Both comprise fae of many different descriptions, but there are basic characteristics that unite them. The Seelie, for instance, are associated with spring and summer, life and growth. They are generally fond of mortals, though they are still dangerous and vindictive if offended.”
“The first rule of dealing with any fae is to be polite,” Thomas interjected.
“Quite. The Unseelie are the opposite of the Seelie in most respects and are associated with death and winter. They are extremely dangerous and do not require offense before they act maliciously. Many of them seem to take pleasure from tormenting or even killing mortals.”
I blinked, trying to process the sudden information that there was an entire race of creatures, previously unbeknownst to me, that enjoyed killing people for sport. “Okay, so…?” I asked, not sure where he was going with this.
He rubbed his forehead. “We are traveling to the Unseelie Court.”
I stared at him. “I’m sorry, didn’t you just tell me that’s the one with creatures of death that like to torment humans for the sheer fun of it?”
“That is correct,” said Mitchell heavily.
“Then why—?” My voice was going shrill, so I stopped and took several breaths.
“Queen Aerenia is holding a tournament,” said Thomas. “A few weeks ago, after the death of her last husband, she announced a competition in the Unseelie Court. The prize for the winner is her hand in marriage. Without getting too much into the politics of it all, the Septagonal has decided to support a contestant.”
“Last husband?” I asked.
“Yes,” said Mitchell. “Aerenia was of course not proven responsible, but he died of iron filings in his wine.” He frowned, his brow furrowed. “Or perhaps that was the husband previous. One loses track.”
“The Greater Fae—the most magical of the fae creatures—can’t bear the touch of iron,” said Thomas, for my benefit. “Ingesting it would be a very painful way to go.”
“Wait. Wait a second.” I made an inarticulate
gesture while I tried to get my thoughts in order. “This—this Aerenia woman routinely kills off her husbands, but people are still willing to compete to marry her? And you said you’re backing a contestant? Who would be that insane?”
“The benefits of an alliance to one of the Great Courts are enormous, enough to be well worth the risk.” said Mitchell. “As for the contestant…” He glanced toward the house.
Oh, no. “Dietrich?”
“He may be one of the few people alive who isn’t terrified of her,” said Thomas, nodding. “We’re going to ensure he wins.” He looked over at Mitchell. “Though you still haven’t told me why we’re backing him,” he said, a question in his voice. “His family’s not exactly on good terms with the Septagonal.”
“I’m afraid I can’t tell you the specifics yet,” said Mitchell. “But it is absolutely essential that Dietrich win.”
Thomas sighed but nodded. There was a long silence, broken only by the chirping of insects and a chorus of birdsong in the distance. “Well, I’m sure they’ll make a lovely couple,” I said, too stunned to voice the thousands of reasons why this sounded like a terrible idea. Besides, I had a more pressing concern. “What about me?”
“You are accompanying us.”
“I got that much, thanks. Why?”
“That, I cannot tell you.” He raised a hand to stem my protest. “And I suggest you not make an issue of it. As I said, I have done what I can to assure your safety.”
“It’ll be all right,” said Thomas.
“You don’t know why they’re dragging me along either!” I protested.
“I trust Mitchell,” said Thomas simply. “He’s worked his entire life to protect humans from unfriendly fae.” He nodded, and I got the impression he was reassuring himself as much as me. “If he says you’ll be safe, you’ll be safe.”
Oh. Okay then. That just made everything fine, then. Kidnapping and all. My mind was churning. I had no desire to go knocking on the door of a fae queen who loved torturing mortals and murdering husbands. It was also abundantly clear that these people were not going to tolerate any objections from me. Isana alone could keep me in line, to the extent that considering the abilities of the others just seemed like overkill. And whatever Thomas said about how much he trusted Mitchell, that didn’t mean that I had any reason to do so. But if I wanted to get out of here, I would have to get their guard down, let them think they didn’t have to worry about me.
“Okay,” I said slowly. I lifted the book that Thomas had handed me. “I guess I should start reading, then.”
“I can help explain some of the more cryptic entries,” Thomas offered.
“Um… I think I… I think I need some time to… to adjust,” I said. And to plot my escape. “I’ll ask if I have any questions.”
“All right,” said Thomas, though he looked a little disappointed. Too bad.
“Good,” said Mitchell briskly. “Thomas, if you’ll see to dinner, I need to finalize our plans with Dietrich. Keep an eye on Samantha as well, please.” With that, he returned to the house.
“I’ll be right inside,” said Thomas. I nodded, cracking open the book, though I had no intention of reading. I watched Thomas out of the corner of my eye as he walked back toward the house as well. The kitchen had large windows facing the garden, so I would be in plain view. I eyed the hedge again, thinking. It looked too dense to just shove through. Even if I could, though, I was quite sure that Thomas and Mitchell’s supernatural abilities were not limited to just weaving branches together. I had a sudden vision of myself hanging upside down with a tree branch wrapped around my ankle. No. My escape attempt had to count, because it likely would be my last chance. They wouldn’t believe that I was a willing captive after that, and no amount of good acting would convince them. I thought of Isana and gulped. If that happened, it was goodbye to free will.
I thought back to the layout of the house, and the seed of a plan budded in my mind. It wasn’t brilliant, and it involved staying here with these people for at least several more hours, but it was a plan nonetheless. I nodded to myself with the kind of determination that can only be sparked out of fear. So help me, I was going to get out of here.
Chapter Four
I sat on the edge of the bed, eyes closed, my ears straining for any sound in the darkness. Everyone had gone to bed hours ago, and I had pretended to do so as well. In keeping with my self-assigned role of being resigned to traveling with this merry band of sorcerers with a death wish, I had read several chapters of Thomas’ Bestiary, dutifully popping into the kitchen to ask him for points of clarification periodically while he cooked. At some point, Isana and Dietrich had vanished to ‘attend to some business’, leaving me to eat a bizarrely normal (if overcooked) dinner with Thomas and Mitchell. The whole time, I had focused on giving off a nervous-about-everything-but-willing-to-do-as-they-said sort of vibe. It had been easy… especially the “nervous about everything” part. In fact, that was still very much the case; despite the fact that I hadn’t heard so much as a footstep for over an hour, I was still sitting as though paralyzed, trying to persuade myself to get moving. My mind kept rotating through all the horrible ways an escape attempt could end. My plan was simple enough; break out of the house, find the nearest town, convince someone (not police—that would be the first place that Dietrich and company would look for me) to take me to the American embassy, wherever that was, and figure out getting back home from there. The fact that this was more of an outline than an actual plan was not lost on me, but since I had almost no information to work with, there wasn’t much I could do about that. I took a breath. Home. It wasn’t much—the little studio apartment with not much more than a bed and a chair where I practiced the cello, but I had worked for it, and it was mine, and most of all, it was safe. I had to get back. That was all there was to it.
Come on, I said to myself sharply. Move! I wrung my hands, glancing at the window. I wasn’t cut out for this. What made me think I could pull off an escape? I put my head in my hands. I wondered if Dietrich and Isana were planning to return that night or wait until morning. The thought of them showing up right as I was walking down the road was enough to finally break through my paralysis and push me to my feet. I started moving, slowly placing each foot and testing each step for fear of making a floorboard creak. It took over two minutes to traverse the distance from the bed to the window, two heart-pounding minutes. I tried not to think of what would happen if I was caught, because I suspected if I did think about it, I would just crawl back to the bed and sit there shaking until morning. I needed to be well away by then. I dug my nails between the window frame and the sill, pushing it up excruciatingly slowly, stopping every time it made even a slight grinding or squealing noise. It seemed to take hours, but finally I managed to get it open far enough to crawl through. I stuck my head out, eyeing the tree. The image of hanging upside down by my ankles returned to mind, but I quashed it angrily. I was not going to sit here agonizing over every possibility. I was going home. Channeling my self-disgust and anger into action, I thrust myself out through the window, grabbing the nearest branch for support.
It broke. I managed to clamp my mouth shut before emitting anything more than a squeak, but my fall was arrested by another thick branch a few feet down. I struck it hard enough to knock all the air out of my lungs and clutched it, arms trembling with strain, while I tried to force myself to breathe again. When I finally could, I looked back at the house, expecting lights to turn on as everyone woke up from the sound of the branch snapping. Nothing happened, however, so after what felt like an eternity of waiting for the worst, I looked down. My feet were dangling about five feet from the ground. I decided I’d probably make less noise dropping than by scraping my way down the tree trunk. I braced myself, then fell the remaining distance.
I landed on my hands and knees with jarring force, scraping my palms against an exposed root, but I didn’t care. Stunned that I’d managed to get this far, I straightened up. The moon was brig
ht that night, illuminating the small dirt road that wound by the house. Bizarrely, my mind leapt to some words of wisdom from the Cheshire Cat in Alice in Wonderland—if you don’t know where you want to go, it doesn’t matter which road you take to get there. Right, then. I brushed dirt off my palms, which were sweating. I’d head east until sunrise. If I hadn’t found some help by then, I’d leave the road and find somewhere to hide until night fell again. It was the best plan I was likely to come up with, so I started moving forward.
“It would have been easier to use the door,” said Isana mildly from behind me. I jumped almost a foot into the air, landing with a stifled squeak as I whirled to face her. She was sitting on a wooden bench set in front of the bushes that grew to the left of the house’s front door. There was no anger or even annoyance on her moonlit face; she just watched me, looking inquisitive, as if wondering what I might do next. Well, we had that in common. I wanted to bolt, but that had not ended well for me last time.
“Were you just… waiting for me to do something like that?” I asked, gesturing toward the tree. There was a faint tremble in my voice. Isana shook her head.
“I was enjoying the stars,” she said. “We will not see them again for a time. The skies are different in the fae realm.” She looked to the sky, then back at me. “I would advise against moving more than twenty paces from the house, however. You will trigger Herr Mitchell’s wards.”
“Wards,” I said weakly. “Of course.”
She nodded. “Come. Sit,” she said, motioning to the space beside her on the bench. I took a step back, and she tilted her head slightly. In the moonlight, she looked strangely ethereal. “I intend you no harm.”
I forced myself to breathe. “Thomas said that you weren’t trustworthy,” I managed, though my tone wasn’t nearly as bold as the words. Sadness crossed Isana’s face.
“He was right,” she said softly. This surprised me, and I didn’t move as she stood and approached. She put a light hand on the crook of my elbow, ignoring my flinch, and led me to the bench, then sat down beside me. “But I speak truth. I have no wish to harm you.”
Fae Bound Page 3