“The forest is unpredictable. And it’s the realm of the Fir Bolg, our people’s ancient enemies. I think we should get out of here as fast as possible.” He reached a hand down to her. “Come on, let’s go.”
The urgency in his voice had her grasping his hand and on her feet. He remounted Triton and helped her on to the stallion. As soon as she was on the horse she felt the swell of Ardan’s power. But nothing happened. They didn’t move and the forest stayed exactly where it was.
“Are you opening a portal?”
“I’m trying.” His Gift surged again, but no doorway formed. His shoulders slumped. “I don’t think I can here. The forest won’t let me.”
“Let me try.”
“Oh, and where would you take us this time?” He twisted around in the saddle to face her.
“I did the best I could.”
“You have no memories. How are you supposed to set a portal destination?”
She stared into his eyes, her cheeks flushing with guilt. “I’m sorry. I should have thought of that.”
His eyebrows again raised. “You’re getting better at that.”
“At what?”
He grinned. “At apologizing.”
“Hey, don’t push it.” She smiled back at him, a surge of warmth rushing through her. “Okay, my turn. And before you say anything I’ll take us back to the cave. I know what that looks like.” She should. The images of the night they’d made love had kept her awake long past when she should have been sleeping at Aoife’s house.
She drew on her Gift and focused on opening a portal in the grassy area in front of them. Power surged but again only the quiet of the woods and the impatient stamp of Triton’s front hoof filled the space. “Nothing happened. Maybe it’s my Gift. It’s still lacking something.”
Ardan’s mouth tightened. “Your Gift is fine. This is definitely the Black Forest playing tricks. I don’t think it likes us.”
As if on cue the bright spring day seemed to grow a little darker, and the wide trunks of the trees seemed to move in closer.
Thorn wrapped her arms around Ardan’s middle, the hard press of chain mail reassuring under her hands. “Did you notice, we’re not even close to the time we left. It was fall before.”
“I noticed. We’re in spring-time now. Do you know what year?”
“No.” She sighed. “Ever since I woke up my time sense has been screwed.” She tried again to figure out when they were. “This doesn’t make any sense. I feel like we’re almost out of the time stream.”
“Me too. I think we’re sometime before I was born because I have no idea when it is—it’s totally out of my time-sense. But then again, it could just be the forest playing with us. There are so many rumors about the Black Forest, anything is possible. Either way, I think we need to get out of the forest before we can open a portal and move on.” Ardan clucked to Triton and the horse moved forward, heading for a break in the trees. “We’ll try this direction.”
As they moved through the trees and down a slim shadowy path overhung with low branches, there was a strong sense of being watched from all sides as she bent her head to avoid the low-hanging branches. “So tell me. What made you come back so soon? I thought it would take you longer.”
“The Oracle. He knew Aoife was trouble.”
“I knew she was trouble.” She snorted. “Why is it you didn’t?”
He didn’t answer for a while and they rode in silence. Thorn held tightly to Ardan as the big heavy clouds moved in, making the already dense undergrowth and trees become menacing dark shadows.
The trail they were on kept narrowing, until Triton was pushing his way through the deep undergrowth of the forest following only a trace of a path. Scratchy bushes scraped Thorn’s legs, and she wished she had pants instead of this scrap of nightgown she’d been sleeping in.
“I knew there was something wrong with Aoife. I just didn’t want to face it. She’s helped me. She gave me Triton and Gleam. She made sure I got this quest in the first place. I thought she was on my side.” He sighed. “And I have very few advocates on my side.”
“She was on your side, as long as you wanted to kill the Black Queen.” The branches above the trail became lower and lower. Soon both of them were hunched over Triton’s back. To distract herself from the increasing claustrophobia she asked the question, “So, why didn’t you kill her?”
“I was about to, when you stepped in.”
“Sorry to be so concerned about you, but she was aiming her power at you, not the queen.”
“She was sending me power to help me kill the Black Queen.” His quiet response shot straight to her heart.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know. It’s my fault. You could have been done with it all.” Done with me. She didn’t say the last part, but the heavy feeling rested with her, weighing her down almost as much as the gloom around them.
“You couldn’t know. Thank you.”
“For what? If it wasn’t for me you might be riding for Prince Kian’s court right now with the queen’s head swinging from a stick.”
“You didn’t know she wasn’t trying to kill me and you could have stayed back, safe within the confines of Aoife’s spell. None of the fight would have reached you there, under that tree, so thank you for coming to save me.” He reached back and touched her knee. The simple gesture went straight to her heart.
He cared. Maybe couldn’t show it, but he cared. He’d come back for her. Not to kill the queen, not for Aoife, but entirely for her.
She opened her mouth to thank him in return, but before she could get the words out, he pulled Triton to a halt. “It’s getting too dense. We need to dismount.”
The path had become a tunnel, the branches dropping so low they were bent over the horse’s neck. She peered as far ahead through the brush as she could. “It doesn’t look any better up ahead, I think we need to turn back. This just gets smaller and smaller. Do you even have a guess as to where we’re going?”
“No.” He backed Triton up until there was a small area he could turn the horse around. “We’ll head back.”
As if his words were a catalyst, the clouds above them opened up. Freezing rain pounded down, the drops of rain so hard they poured through the tangle of branches nearly blocking out the sky.
“Go!” she shouted.
Triton took off, back up the narrow path. Branches snatched her hair and scraped her back. She clung to Ardan, her face tucked low on his shoulder. Finally, the path widened back out and they reached the clearing where they had started. Triton ground to a halt churning the bright green grass to mud. The Dense rain poured down. Thorn’s hair was plastered to her face, making it nearly impossible to see more than a few inches in front of her face.
Her hair lifted on her bare arms, static crackling along her soaking wet skin. A burst of lightning lit the sky in a blinding flash. Triton reared, pawing the rain with his hooves and whinnying. The boom of thunder echoed into Thorn’s bones. The horse reared, pawing the rain with his hooves, his whinny of fear ringing in her ears as the grass next to them burst into flames.
Another burst of lightning hit the tree next to them. Triton moved, backing up as it came crashing down, the leaves and branches skimming down Thorn’s bare leg. “Which way?” she shouted, unable to even hear herself over the ringing in her ears.
“Hell if I know!” Ardan shouted. “But we can’t stay here.”
He wheeled Triton, aiming him down another path, and they raced into the trees. Behind them came a raucous cawing, the sound permeating even the echo of the thunder still ringing in her ears. Thorn glanced over her shoulder. A cloud of ravens, each one the size of an eagle, were coming at them through the tunnel of the path.
Triton put on a blinding burst of speed, but the path twisted and turned and it was slick with mud. Suddenly, there was a log blocking the path where she’d sworn there hadn’t been one before. There was only a narrow space between the log and the low-hanging branch above it, and no way they could sto
p.
“Hold on!”
Under her thighs she felt Triton’s muscles bunch. She buried her head into Ardan’s back and prayed to the goddess they’d make it over.
Chapter Twenty-three
Thorn held onto Ardan, the small rings of his chain mail biting into her unprotected arms as the fae steed under them leapt. She pressed as low as she could and they flew into the air heading straight for the impossibly narrow gap between the top of the log and the low hanging trees. A bright light came from deep inside Triton enveloping all three of them in his magic. Time crawled.
All the tiny details of the forest became huge. The curtain of rain slowed into a thousand individual gleaming drops. Every water-coated branch was outlined in the bright light of Triton’s glow. There was a huge lurch as he brought them over the log, the horse’s head dipping below the branch.
Fragile leaves brushed the top of her soaking head, skimming softly over the side of her cheek and the back of her neck. Triton’s front hooves hit the ground, sending splashes of mud back. One by one, drops of muddy water hit her face and she closed her eyes, the movement infinitesimally slow.
They cleared the log. Triton’s rear hooves hit the ground and time sped up, the glow fading away. Thorn sucked in a deep breath about to say something, but before she even knew what it was, there was a bright pop of light next to her. Triton reared up, his front legs churning and Thorn clutched Ardan as she slipped on the horse’s back.
“Whoa, boy. Easy now.” Ardan’s voice was low and even, but she could hear the stress underneath.
She hung on as the horse settled down to the ground. Behind them the cloud of ravens burst into loud angry caws and stopped, deflected by an invisible wall.
The light beside them twinkled, chiming out a bright fairy. “Hello, little rose. You’re all grown up.”
Thorn blinked. “I am?” she answered, not sure if there had been a question. “Who are you?”
The tiny light flared, then grew, forming a small woman flying in the air next to them, no bigger than Thorn’s fist. Everything about her glowed, from the luminescent golden yellow of her dress formed like the curves of flower petals—to the sparkling bright yellow nails, so sharp they were almost claws—and the skin on her sharply narrow face. “It’s me, Buttercup.”
Thorn laughed, relief rushing through her. “I did it! I brought us to where the picnic was. That’s why this all looks so familiar.”
Buttercup’s tinkling laughter joined hers. “Oh, little thorny rose, I’m so happy you’re here. Come with me and see my sisters. They will be happy too.” She turned back into a bright bit of light. “Come on,” she chimed and flew deeper into the woods, the light dancing from side to side, waiting for them to follow.
“It’s Buttercup, the fairy who found me when I was a little girl.” She looked around the forest in wonder. “I must have lived near here at some time.” A deep sense of happiness filled Thorn. She’d brought them exactly where she’d tried to bring them. She simply hadn’t known when or where that was. But now she understood—when she was a little girl she must have been lost in the Black Forest. It wasn’t much, but it was something. “Come on, she’s waiting.”
Ardan held Triton still. “Are we sure this is a good idea?”
“Do you have a better one?”
“No.” He sighed. “I can’t say I do.” He relaxed the reins, Triton moved forward, and they followed the bright light of the fairy deeper into the shadows of the forest.
Chapter Twenty-four
Aoife paced her living room. Back and forth, back and forth, across one of the Turkish carpets she’d had brought in from Earth over a hundred years ago.
Days! It had been days and no sign of them. “Where in Underhill are they?” She picked up a statue of a black Staffordshire poodle and threw it into the fireplace where it shattered into an unsatisfying million pieces.
“Pardon me, my lady.” Lena’s voice was nearly a whisper. The maid stood in the doorway holding the fully loaded silver tea tray in front of her as if the shaking china would protect her from her mistress’s wrath.
“Nowhere! I’ve scryed and scryed and they are nowhere to be found. That fool Ardan’s time is running short. Doesn’t he realize that if he doesn’t complete this quest he will be an outlaw across the demesnes? He will have nowhere to go but to some magicless world where he’ll slowly fade away. Or worse, turn into an old man with nothing to live for.”
“I’m sorry, my lady. I don’t understand.”
“Of course you don’t! You’re merely human. You can live anywhere. The lack of magic on worlds like Earth doesn’t suck you dry if you’re there for one year or a thousand. You just get old and die. No muss, no fuss. But Ardan will lose everything.” She picked up the charming mate of the china poodle and chucked it into the fireplace. Smash! “I will lose everything. All my hard work. All my planning. It will be down to nothing!”
The girl quivered in the doorway and the sound of the clinking of her second best set of china brought Aoife back to reality. “Oh, do come in and set that down before you break it.” She irritably waved the girl towards the coffee table. “Put it down, and get out.”
Lena scurried into the room, staying as far from Aoife as she could, and set the tray down. “Thank you, my lady.” With a barely perfunctory bob of her knees she was out of the room, closing the door firmly behind her.
“Damned impertinence.” Aoife glared at the closed door. “If it weren’t so much trouble to kidnap humans from Earth in the first place I’d dump her back where I found her and get someone else.” But then, of course, she’d have to find and train another one. No, it was better to keep the maid she had. Unlike fragile china poodles, humans weren’t easy to replace.
But none of that solved the problem of how to kill her nemesis, the Black Queen, who continued to escape death’s trap as easily as a cat with nine lives.
“Everyone said she was dead. Everyone said they’d seen her die. But no, there she was, bold as brass and twice as hard, laughing at me, just as she laughed all those years ago.”
She stared into the fireplace at the fragments of china, one black-lashed painted eye staring back from its broken piece.
She moved to look over her gardens.
The Crone thought she’d won. But Aoife wasn’t beaten yet. She’d come back from being a shamed, barren ex-queen with no standing. She’d come back from her depression over all her losses. And she’d come back even more powerful than ever. This current failure was nothing more than a set-back.
She went to the velvet pull cord and jerked the bell. “Lena!”
The pounding of the maid’s feet came down the hall. “Yes, my lady?” The girl barely stuck her head in, leaving half her curtsy performed in the hall.
“Get me the Oracle.”
The maid blanched. “But, my lady. I can’t do that. I’m just a maid.”
Aoife laced power into her voice. She spoke slowly, and very carefully so the girl would understand. “Get me the Oracle now, or I’ll hold you responsible.” She looked pointedly into the fireplace at the broken shards of poodle.
The maid blanched and backed out of the doorway. “Of course, my lady. Right away, my lady. I’ll get you the Oracle.”
The Oracle’s first prophecy, of Oberon’s golden son and heir, had been perverted to impregnate Aeval. The second prophecy, of the Black Queen’s downfall, had come to pass. But once again Aeval had somehow managed to twist it and escape any repercussions.
What Aoife needed was a third prophecy. This time a secret one that no one could twist and turn to their own ends. One that ensured that the Black Queen—and anyone connected with her—would die.
Ardan would pay for not killing the Crone when he’d had the chance. The little twit he’d found would pay. And finally, Aeval herself would pay, no matter what form she chose.
She would find them, hunt them down, and make sure they paid. Aoife picked up the silver teapot and poured the steaming hot liquid into th
e delicate chintz teacup. Oh, yes, they’d all pay.
Chapter Twenty-five
Ardan couldn’t help worrying as they made their way deeper into the forest. Buttercup was one of the wild fae. They’d been here when both the Fir Bolg and the Tuathan had come to Underhill, thousands of years before. They were mischievous tricksters who had been pushed into the unpopulated sections of Underhill. These were the fae who were known for sneaking into other worlds and stealing babes, leaving something horrible in their place. The fact that somehow Thorn had not been taken forever by them when a child, was surprising.
The sun had come back out, leaving a misty quality to the scene. As they walked, the trees grew larger and closer together. Their thick bark was covered with layers of moss, and the undergrowth was so dense, it was clear no one had strayed from this path for a very long time. Bright yellow flowers sprang up at the fairy’s feet, going from grassy stems to tiny curled buds, to full bloom in seconds. But only a few feet away in the dark of the undergrowth, something seemed to be watching and waiting for them to take one step off the bright path.
As the tiny dancing light led them deeper and deeper into the old parts of the forest, Ardan’s apprehension grew. “Buttercup, may I ask where are we going?”
The fairy turned, flying into a strip of shadow. The shape of her eyes thinned out, becoming narrow with a feral gleam. Her teeth sharpened, and her cheekbones raised and thinned. She put a finger on her lips. “Sh, the trees have ears.” Then she laughed, and the darkness that for a moment had turned her face into something feral was gone, leaving her looking more like a regular elvatian woman with soft curving cheeks and nicely squared-off teeth.
He shivered, not sure he’d seen the transformation as quickly as it had come and gone. This wouldn’t have been his first choice, to follow one of the old ones deeper into unknown territory, but he could see no other way. The trails through the Dark Forest twisted and changed. Many wandered in, and never wandered back out.
Bespelled: A Fae Fantasy Romance (Fae Magic Book 5) Page 15