We eventually reached a small side passageway that ended in a plain wooden door, which creaked open as the cat approached. She looked over her shoulder at me as I entered behind her.
The room was lit by several oil lamps whose flames grew brighter and cleaner as the cat padded to the center of the room. The chamber’s walls were covered with shelves, each one laden with books and leather-bound folios. There were a few cushioned chairs positioned next to ornately carved wooden music stands. What really caught my attention, though, was the instruments. There were dozens—there was a gracefully shaped harp in each corner, and a variety of flutes and woodwinds were laid out on a polished oak table alongside an intricately crafted dulcimer. Several string instruments flanked the walls, and a harpsichord stood near the center of the room.
“Here,” said the cat, hopping on top of a dusty instrument case made of stiff leather. “Go ahead.”
I approached as the cat leapt from the case to one of the chairs. I worked open the clasps, opening the case to reveal a cello. It was a beautiful instrument, and clearly well-cared for. I ran my fingers over it, for a brief moment forgetting my situation. Realization returned after scant seconds, however, as I remembered the cat’s comment about how my life would depend on being able to play well. Feeling leaden and numb, I removed the cello from its case. I extended the end pin, then took it over to the harpsichord and set to work tuning it. It had a deep, rich sound. This done, I sat down on the harpsichord’s bench, then began to play.
I hadn’t consciously picked a piece, but the one I began playing was a sad composition, with keening, lonely tones. I stared at the ground as I played, unable to truly lose myself in the music as I always had back home. I closed my eyes, playing by feel, and for a moment the terrible reality of my surroundings melted away. I let the music surround me, the intricate melody creating a barrier between me and everything that had happened.
“Oh, you are rather good, aren’t you?” the cat purred, breaking the spell I’d woven for myself. I opened my eyes and slowed my tempo, though I continued to play. “Yes, you’ll be a nice addition here. Maybe even worth the effort of keeping alive. You’re being a bit heavy on the vibrato, though. Oh,” she said, apparently realizing that the vibrato in question wasn’t deliberate, but a result of the fact that my hands had begun shaking. I returned my gaze to the ground, setting the bow on the bench next to me. A tear dropped from my eye, streaking down the varnished side of the cello.
“None of that, now,” the cat said, leaping onto my lap and swiping her claws against my forearm. I yelped as she jumped back to her chair. I checked my arm; she hadn’t scratched me hard enough to draw blood, but there was still a series of red ridges across my arm. “There, now,” said the cat, sitting down and coiling her tail around herself. “Anger is a much easier emotion to deal with than sadness, don’t you think?”
I stared at her for a second, then looked back at the floor. There was silence for a moment, and then the cat sighed. “You know, I was like you once,” she said. “Young, frightened… human.” I glanced up at her. “Yes,” she said. “I was a mortal once, hundreds of years ago. I bargained with the fae for greater abilities, powers that most mortals can only dream of. There were strict limits on how much I could draw on the fae powers, though, and in a moment of great need, I passed them.” She shrugged. “I became trapped in this form, and Maeve, who was queen then, had me brought here.”
Her words jogged the memory of the rest of the entry I had read on her kind—catsidhe were human magic users granted great power by the fae, but with tight restrictions. They could only change form nine times, for instance, and on the ninth, they would be confined to that form forever. “You’re a prisoner, too, then?” I asked, voice low.
“I can leave if I choose,” the cat said, flexing the claws on her left paw and examining them. “It was Maeve who bound me here, and she’s long gone. Aerenia apparently never saw a point to redoing the binding, so I’m free to go. I prefer to stay, though; I’ve made a place for myself here.” She looked at me seriously. “Your situation is quite a bit different, but your chances aren’t so bad if you can make yourself useful. Being brought here as a musician is far from the worst position you could have; fae have a deep love of music, you know.” She yawned. “And I’ll do what I can to help you avoid doing anything stupid that will get you killed.” I wondered if I was supposed to thank her for that. I couldn’t quite make myself, however, so I just nodded, looking back at the flagstone floor. “Keep playing,” the cat said. “I want to hear your skill with a variety of styles. We can talk about fae etiquette while you do so; it’s not difficult, but it does need to be observed closely. It would be a shame if you annoyed the wrong Sidhe lord or lady and got turned to stone, or some such. I lost a good harpist that way once.”
I took a shaky breath and obeyed, picking up the bow again. The cat closed her eyes halfway as she listened, occasionally commenting on my style and technique. Then, as promised, she began coaching me on fae customs, beginning with the correct way to address Sidhe lords and ladies.
“Now, ridiri,” she said, after going through several other ranks of fae nobility. “You probably don’t know the word, but it’s what we call knights of the Court. It’s a highly honored position, since it indicates that they are a protector of the Court. They may also hold other titles. Male ridiri should be addressed with ‘sir’ preceding their name, while females should be called ‘my lady.’ Understand?”
I nodded, continuing to play. At that moment, the door to the little room opened. “Oh, look,” the cat said, suddenly sounding sour. “Case in point. If it isn’t the Seelie’s favorite witch.” I looked up, startled, to see Saorla striding into the room. “Samantha, this is Lady Saorla of the Seelie. Now, as I was saying, when dealing with ridiri, you should keep your gaze averted, and—”
Saorla clapped her hands together once, sharply, as if killing a bothersome insect. The cat abruptly seized, then fell to the floor, limp. I lurched to my feet, alarmed, as Saorla closed the door behind her, latching it securely.
“She is unharmed,” Saorla said, as I glanced quickly from the cat to her. I leaned the cello back against the harpsichord, tense. “But she will not remember my visit.” She approached, stopping several feet away from me. She looked me over quickly, her gaze catching on the collar. I couldn’t read her expression. “Mortal, I am so sorry,” she said softly, after a moment. “This should never have happened.” I looked away, unable to stand the pity in her voice. Pity is what people show you when they want to make themselves feel less guilty about the fact that they’re going to do nothing to help you. A slow, choking anger was creeping up inside of me, and I took a deliberate step away from her. Saorla glanced at the fallen catsidhe. “You should be wary of her,” she said. “She is less dangerous than some, but she is not true fae, and is capable of lying, as well as breaking her word. Do not trust her.”
I stared at her. “Thank you,” I said, my voice shaking, “for the warning. Is there anyone else here whose promises I shouldn’t trust?” I practically spat out the last word.
Saorla sent me a warning look. “You are under duress, so I will excuse your rudeness for the moment.” How generous. “But I will not stand for insults to my lord, which you are perilously close to implying.”
“What?” I asked, the anger still rising. “Don’t want me saying that Tisean’s promises might not be good? Because he’s done a great job at protecting me so far.”
Her brow furrowed. “Why would you say…” Her expression cleared. “Ah. Sarcasm. You should be aware that fae without extensive experience with mortals often do not understand that particular habit.” I supposed that made sense; saying the direct opposite of what you meant wouldn’t work well for creatures incapable of lying. “It would be wiser to keep such witticisms to yourself.”
I found my expression sliding ever closer to a glare. So much for respect, keeping my gaze averted, etc. I simply couldn’t make myself care. The cat was right; anger was easier
to deal with than sadness. “Why are you here, Saorla?” I asked finally. It came out more civil than I felt.
A strange expression passed over her face, a combination of annoyance and worry. “Lady Saorla,” she corrected me, running a hand over the back of her neck. She seemed oddly distressed. “Have you no sense of decorum? You would already be dead if you addressed an Unseelie creature thus.”
“Yeah, my manners tend to deteriorate when I’m in fear for my life,” I snapped. “It’s another peculiar mortal trait, I guess. Why are you here?”
Saorla took a slow breath, probably restraining another lecture on manners. “I have come to renegotiate the bargain you struck with my lord,” she said after a moment. “Given the change in circumstances.”
Well, there was a nice way to put it. I folded my arms. My hands had started to tremble again, but not from fear this time. “You want me to release him from the bargain. Why bother? He isn’t keeping it anyway.”
“Mortal, I am attempting to help you,” Saorla said shortly. “Do not encourage me to change my mind.”
I dropped my hands to my sides. “Your leader handed me back to Dietrich after promising to protect me,” I said, glaring. “I. Don’t. Trust. You. Why would I listen to anything you have to say?”
Saorla regarded me for a long moment. Again, I couldn’t read her expression. “Clearly you believe you have nothing to lose,” she said, dropping her voice. “You are wrong. Your situation can grow far, far worse.” I scoffed. “It can,” she said grimly. “And if you disagree, you are simply not using your imagination to good effect. Thus far, you have seen only the gentlest facets of this Court.” She shrugged, somehow making even that motion seem elegant. “Perhaps you will be fortunate, and Aerenia will elect to keep you as a slave for the remainder of your existence here, enduring only occasional pain and torture. But that is unlikely. Eventually, she will grow bored of you and put you to some other use. For instance, she makes frequent gifts to Sir Conall, whose reputation for casual violence exceeds even Aerenia’s own. Or you could be released into the wilds of Alfheim, to be hunted as game by her dogs. The Unseelie take great pleasure in that sort of sport.” My stomach gave an unpleasant turn. “You say that you do not trust me, but I have no intention of harming you, or even misleading you,” she said. “You could do far worse than to put your faith in myself and my company.”
I stared at her for what felt like a long time. “Fine,” I said, my voice betraying me with a little tremble. “No intention of misleading me? Answer me this, then—the cat said that giving talented mortals as tithes is an old tradition among your kind. When Tisean returned me to Dietrich, did you know this would happen?” I jerked the leash.
“I did not.”
“Did you suspect?”
She hesitated, and I made a disgusted noise. That was answer enough, as far as I was concerned. The fae and their technicalities. “The thought had occurred to me,” she said. “But I truly thought the presence of the Septagonal representatives would protect you. I did not believe Ian Mitchell would ever condone such action.” She shook her head. “My lord never would have pledged his protection if he had known this was what awaited you. As things stand now, you are a terrible danger, both to yourself and to him.”
I was a danger to Tisean? “What are you talking about?”
Saorla appeared to weigh her words with great care before speaking. “We fae,” she said, “are creatures of deep magic. When we act in violation of that same magic’s laws—failing to uphold an oath, for instance—the consequences are severe.”
“What consequences?’
“Sir Tisean is perfectly aware of the pain you felt last night, from the iall na braighdeanas,” she said, indicating the collar. “Perfectly. He experienced it himself, the instant that you did.”
Realization was starting to dawn. “So… by failing to protect me…”
“Any harm that befalls you that should have been prevented under the terms of your agreement will in turn fall on him,” Saorla said, giving a single nod. “He is in grave danger, precisely equal to your own.”
I suddenly understood her concern for me, her worry at my apparent lack of manners. If I angered the wrong creature and got myself killed, Tisean would die, too. Even if I managed to avoid dying, the odds of surviving the next few days without any injury whatsoever were slim. I hadn’t even managed to get through last night without a crippling blast of pain being sent through my body. “So you do want me to release him from the bargain.”
“Temporarily,” she said. “Yes.”
I turned halfway away from her, angry. “What does it matter?” I asked bitterly. “He’ll never be able to fulfill the second part anyway.” I looked upward, forcing back the tears that pricked at my eyes. “I’m Aerenia’s property now. He won’t be able to get me home.”
“Samantha.” Saorla laid a hand on my shoulder. She probably meant the gesture to be comforting, but it really wasn’t. “You must not give up, do you understand? There is still hope for you.” I shook my head. “There is,” she said. “Listen. It is true that as things stand now, you cannot leave this Court without Aerenia expressly releasing you.” I slumped. “I am not finished,” she said, tightening her grip on my shoulder. I looked up, startled by the intensity of her gaze. “This would certainly be difficult, but for the fact that your old companions made a mistake.” I waited, refusing to get my hopes up at this statement. “Last night, upon presenting you to Aerenia, the Alder Prince announced you as a gift to the Unseelie Court. He did not further specify.”
“Okay…” I said slowly. “And?”
“Do you not see? If Tisean wins this contest, he will be a ruler of the Unseelie Court, and part holder of the ties that bind you here.” She paused, releasing my shoulder. “It may be your only chance at returning home.”
I was thinking quickly. Whatever she said, I doubted that Dietrich’s choice of words had been a mistake—he was too careful for that. The first day I’d been with him and Isana, Mitchell had told me he had exacted promises from Dietrich for my protection. Was this one of them? Had he made Dietrich promise to release me once he had won the contest?
“So… if Dietrich wins, he’d be able to release me as well?”
Saorla raised an eyebrow. “You would entrust your freedom to him? To the Alder Prince, the one who first brought you here?” Good point. Much as I’d insisted that I didn’t trust Saorla, and by extension, Tisean, they at least had not personally sold me into slavery. “Your best chance at survival lies with Tisean,” she continued. “But you must understand… if he is still responsible for your safety in the interim, and anything happens to you while he is competing… even a minor injury at an inopportune time could cost him his life. It is why I felt it prudent to renegotiate.”
“Suppose I refuse?” I said, folding my arms.
“That would be unwise,” she said, a warning in her tone. “If he dies, then you have no guarantee of being released. Tisean has already promised to see you home after the competition. Can you say the same of the Alder Prince, or indeed any of the other competitors?” I was silent. “I thought not.”
I hated to admit it, but I could see the sense of what she was saying. Still, I had reason to be wary. I didn’t exactly have the best track record for successfully bargaining with fae.
“I need you to say it,” said Saorla. “That you release him.”
I made an exasperated noise. Think like a lawyer, Thomas had said. Well, fine. “All right,” I said, after taking a moment to frame my words in my head. “I temporarily release Tisean from his oath to protect me while the competition is running. Beyond that, his obligation to protect me returns, as does his obligation to return me safely to the mortal world as soon as possible. Fair?”
“Fair,” Saorla agreed. A good deal of the tension left her posture. “Thank you. Now, there is one other order of business.”
“Which is…?”
“We Seelie are almost certain to be at a disadvantage during
this contest,” she said. “Aerenia could arrange for virtually anything to happen. She will not let Tisean win easily.” I thought of what Isana had said, about Aerenia making the contest interesting for Tisean. It seemed she wasn’t the only one who thought so. “There are rumors regarding the nature of the contest that she has planned,” Saorla continued. “If what we have heard is true, it is likely that having a source of information in the Court during the competition will greatly improve our chances.” I stared at her. Was she saying…? “I have left a means of communication for you in your chamber.”
I felt weak at the knees. “Are you insane?” I demanded. “Or are you just trying to get me killed while Tisean’s oath isn’t in effect?”
She raised her eyebrows. “That would hardly save us any effort,” she said, “given that under the current agreement Sir Tisean would still be obligated to return your body to the mortal world. If there was one left, that is.” My stomach sank Someone really needed to talk with her about her bedside manner. “I am merely informing you of a course of action that could be to your advantage.”
“To my advantage? You’re asking me to spy on the queen of darkness!”
“I did not say that,” said Saorla smoothly. I shook my head in disbelief. No, she hadn’t said that, and she wouldn’t, either. Because if I got caught, she needed to be able to deny instructing me to do any such thing. “Your choices are your own,” she said. “But you should remember what you stand to gain, and to lose.” She pulled something dark and fluid from her pocket. “Here,” she said. “A darkcloak. I wove it personally. Wearing it, you could move through the most crowded places unnoticed.”
I shook my head fiercely. “I’m not doing this. Besides, I’ve been warned about accepting gifts from fae.”
“Consider it a loan, then.” She pressed it into my hand. “Take it, mortal. Accepting it does not imply agreement to any particular course of action. I find it difficult to imagine that you would be unable to find some use for it, however.” Reluctantly, I took it, folding it down to a square. To my surprise, once I had done so, it took up less space than a handkerchief. I slipped it into my pocket. “Good,” said Saorla. She laid a hand over my forehead, and warmth rushed over me again. “That should last for the duration of the competition,” she said, drawing back. “I imagine you will play better if you are not chilled.” I nodded. I couldn’t make myself thank her this time, though—she’d made it clear enough that her concern for me was mainly due to the fact that I was bound to Tisean. “Go back to the piece you were playing before I entered,” she said, glancing at the cello. “The catsidhe will awaken shortly.” With that, she turned away, walking toward the door. “Goodbye, Samantha,” she said quietly. “And good luck.” She left.
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