Kevighn Silver-Tongue, indeed. Fortunately, she hadn’t done anything other than kiss him. Such pretty lies he’d woven, and she’d walked right into his glimmering web.
What an idiot she’d been. She’s looked forward to the treats and his company.
Her heart still jumped a bit from those kisses.
A look down revealed she wore only her undergarments. Her cheeks burned in shame.
Not only was she an idiot, but a dollymop as well.
Shaking her head, she tried to shake off the feeling of his hands, his lips. She needed to focus in order to find her way out of here—and home.
The large, ramshackle house ahead looked straight out of a gothic novel and possessed the appearance of being abandoned, empty, and neglected. Truly Miss Havisham’s, if there ever was one. Noli ran towards it anyway. Perhaps someone lived there.
Inside, she found it empty and abandon. Exhausted, she wished she could crawl into one of the beds and sleep. Instead she went back outside. The garden behind the house had taken over and seemed to attempt to keep her there as she twisted, tore, and thrashed her way through.
Where was she?
She was lost, plain and simple.
Hopelessness nipped at her as she stumbled into what may have once been a clearing. A faerie tree grew out of the center of the lifeless wilds. The air around her seemed to change, humming with something she couldn’t quite identify making prickles shoot up her spine. This tree didn’t hold the joy and life of the other’s she’d seen. Nothing grew on it, no wood faeries played within. It seemed as lifeless and soulless as Findlay House itself.
Her fingers brushed the bark and she yanked them back as a shock shot through her. The outward appearance of the tree remained the same. However, it now seemed to thrum with power, like passing by a steam generator.
“Take me away from this place,” she whispered to the tree, wiping her nose with her bare forearm. Nothing happened. Perhaps she wasn’t a tree speaker, but one of those blasted trees brought her here. If they could do that, they could take her away.
For some reason, she couldn’t remember what Kevighn had done.
Perhaps if she wished. “I wish you would take me away from here.” She waited. Nothing. “Flying figs.” The unladylike epithet was a favorite of V’s younger brother. Noli pounded on the trunk of the tree with her fists, anguish welling up inside her and threatening to spill over. “I know you have the power. As ludicrous as it sounds, I can feel it. Now, take me away from this place.”
Nothing. She should run more, before Kevighn caught up with her. Tiredness consumed her, filling her head with cotton, making her limbs heavy and reluctant. Sinking to the ground, her back against the trunk, she laid her head on her knees.
“I only wish to go home,” she whispered. “Please. Take me away from this place and bring me anywhere that could lead me to home, I beg of you.” Holding her necklace she wished with all her might to go home to her mother—and V. A flash of heat surrounded her. So cozy and soothing, she ignored the strange tingling in her body and let the warmth to lull her to sleep.
With a heavy heart, Kevighn approached Creideamh’s grove. Noli’s clothing lay in one hand, a necklace in his other. A basket hung on his arm. The things he did for his queen and country. Trying to seduce her had been painful in some ways. After all, unlike with the other girls, where he mostly play-acted, some of the things he said actually held true.
Hopefully, she’d had enough time to calm down—the purpose of not following her immediately.
The little faeries looked on but didn’t stop him. His shoulder unrounded and his confidence increased with every footfall. Certainly, she’d been responsive to his touch, his kisses. His little blossom probably fled in confusion and fright. The Bright Lady knew what strange things they told mortal girls these days—especially those in the highest social classes.
Her necklace disturbed him. It might answer the question of why the magic hadn’t bound her. She wore the crest of an old house, a royal house of the earth court, though he wasn’t sure which, having been born into the fire court. There was also no love lost between the earth court and the fire court. Earth quelled fire, fire destroyed earth. Keeping Creideamh’s throwback earth talents a secret had proved the impossible task.
He wasn’t convinced Noli was the mortal lover of some earth court fop. She’d know far more than she did if she meant enough for one of them to give them her necklace.
There was one earth court house exiled to the mortal realm. Once, it had been the earth court royal house, as in the royal family. It had been quite the scandal when the high queen took away their kingdom, forcing them out of the Otherworld. Perhaps this friend of hers, the one she called V, was one of the young, exiled princes.
The sigil may have also been lost or pawned over time by the former-royal owner, and somehow wound up in the hands of some clever mortal.
Somehow, wearing the mark of a house, even an exiled one, kept the magic from setting. He couldn’t think of another explanation. The idea of some earth court prince paying her attention disturbed him even more than her being the good wife of some ponderous mortal.
He couldn’t touch the necklace because it was the mark of a royal house and he was less than royal in all respects. If somehow he could convince her to remove it, perhaps the magic could do its work, binding her, marking her as the chosen sacrifice, and giving the magic a chance to stabilize.
The necklace in his hand sparkled, the little gem fiery red with one look, deep orange with another, then golden. A pretty bauble. His father had given it to his mother as a betrothal gift. The basket held a picnic—and more honey wine. He’d give her back her clothing, present her with the necklace and his apologies, and go from there.
Hopefully this would work. If not …
“Noli?” He scaled the tree, only slightly difficult with his parcels. The tree house was empty. “Noli, where are you?” A faery nudged him, indicating the basket. “Have you seen Noli?”
The faery told him she’d run through, but hadn’t stopped.
His stomach sank and an uneasy feeling settled over him. He could stop her from leaving his own personal land. However, a tiny rift existed between Creideamh’s grove and their parent’s land, the big house, she’d always called. This had allowed his sister to come and go when he’d first made the tree house. When he’d assumed full responsibility for Creideamh and they moved to his little cabin, he never sealed it, since she went there occasionally.
Noli may have made it through the rift, and if she did, she may have come to his parent’s land. The old gate probably had gone wild. If Noli found it, only the Bright Lady knew where it had taken her. When he told her terrible things lived in the Otherworld, things which would want to hurt and use her, he’d told the truth. Pocketing the firestone, he dropped the basket and clothing and left the tree house, running at full speed for his parent’s land as the inquisitive little faeries looked on.
Twenty One
The Wild Hunt
Steven looked around as he walked across the once caredfor grounds of his home. Not the palace, his uncle lived there now, but their real home. The rambling estate put even the largest Los Angeles manor to shame, resembling a cross between a European farmhouse and an antebellum mansion.
This place used to teem with servants, members of court, and extended family. That included his uncle who happily took the throne and allowed the high queen to oust his father.
Once, this place also included his mother. If he listened hard, he could almost hear her shriek for him and his brother as they did yet another naughty thing. The grounds held such wondrous places for hiding, pranks, and other acts of youthful mischievousness.
Quinn was right, he and Noli’s joyride in a flying car paled in comparison to some of his and James’ antics.
The queen had tried to take this place away from them. But the magic wouldn’t let her. The land belonged not to his father, but to his family and the House of Oak. His fathe
r and Quinn couldn’t come to the Otherworld because of their exile status. He and James weren’t supposed to go to the Otherworld because their father chose to bring his children into exile with him. There was a difference.
One day Steven would reclaim their honor and bring them all back to their real home—even his father. If his father held the kingdom again perhaps he’d stop being crotchety and become the father they remembered.
Elise barely remembered their mother, but she remembered when their father had played with them, loved them. Before Queen Tiana’s selfishness and true nature reared its ugly head and stripped them of their life.
Being back here brought on an onslaught of memories. It made a good home base and the high queen wouldn’t notice him here. As Quinn had said, she’d take great pleasure in forcing him to use his gifts on her behalf—punishment for choosing to stay with his father.
He made his way through the overgrown hedges towards his favorite faery tree. No tree house lurked in its branches, but he’d spent plenty of time in it—as had his father. As king of the earth court, his father also possessed an affinity for the earth.
The faery tree hid at the center of a hedge maze, which wasn’t as overrun as he expected. No wood faeries flew about. He couldn’t blame the little beings for abandoning them. Most everyone else had. The only member of their court who’d accompanied them into exile was Quinn. The others all pledged allegiance to his uncle.
He laid a hand on the tree. Surprisingly, wood faeries still occupied it. A look into a knothole made his stomach churn. The tiny inhabitants weren’t dead—yet. They would be soon if the magic didn’t stabilize. Somehow he needed to fix this without Kevighn’s trickery.
First and foremost, he needed to find Noli. Taking the sigil in his hands, he recalled what Quinn taught him about using it as a compass to find someone. The sigil tugged, indicating Noli’s direction. The air changed, charging, making his skin prickle. Eerie horns with no mortal counterpart pierced the air followed by the clop of hooves and the bark of dogs.
“The host is riding from Knocknarea, and over the grave of Clooth-na-Bare;” he whispered, quoting William Butler Yeats. Mortals produced so many works based on the Fae. Most incorrect. Yeats got a few details wrong, but managed to capture the essence of the wild hunt. The essence, but not the fearsomeness.
A terrifying host of riders and hounds, the wild hunt chased their quarry across the Otherworld. Once the hunt started, they wouldn’t stop until they got their prey. The only way to escape being chosen prey was death. They also said the horns compelled the guilty to run, but Steven had never actually seen this. He had seen men ripped to shreds by the giant, sentient hounds accompanying the riders. The hunt didn’t always kill their prey. Unless granted permission to hunt for pleasure, they hunted for the high queen.
For a moment his insides clenched as he wondered if the hunt came for him. He grew still as they rode through the sky and didn’t relax until they passed. “The host is rushing ‘twixt night and day; and where is there hope or deed as fair?” he quoted again.
Now wasn’t the time to quote Yeats, Chaucer, or even Plato. He needed to find Noli. Putting a hand on the tree he fed the tree a little of his own power to help keep the faeries alive. “I’ll be back. I promise.”
Noli awoke to the sound of horns, which made her want to run, but something deep within her told her she shouldn’t. Something about those who start running couldn’t stop— or perhaps they didn’t escape. She couldn’t remember. Her head ached and her mouth felt stuffed with cotton wool.
Where was she? Still lost, no doubt. Looking around, she seemed to be in a wood even spookier than the one between Creideamh’s grove and the abandoned house. The sky hung heavy with a starless, moonless dusky twilight, making the trees look like ghostly skeletons reaching out keep her from fleeing. The faery tree must have brought her here. Now, to figure out how to get home from here …
The horns echoed through the woods again, starting something winged in a nearby tree. This time supernatural barking and the pounding of many hooves accompanied them, making her heart quicken. Were they after her?
The third time the horns called they startled her to her feet, but she caught herself before starting to run. Wait, this was in V’s stories, too. She’d forgotten. If she remembered correctly, if they wanted her, they’d get her no matter what, and if not, she should give them no reason to make chase. She walked away from them, trying to figure out how to get home.
The air seemed charged, like right before a lightning storm. A chill took her and she wished she’d remembered to grab her clothing off the floor before she fled.
With every step, the horns and hoof beats grew louder like approaching thunder. Suddenly, they filled the sky, a fearsome melee of giant horses and hounds, of formidable riders armed with swords and axes. That, too, nearly sent her running.
How could horses flying through the air without wings make hoof beats? But this world didn’t have the same constraints as her own. The hunt swooped closer and closer, led by a warrior with snow-white hair who’s very presence made her want to run in terror and hide.
Noli continued to walk, even though her instincts squealed at her to run. Her stomach tightened and her skin broke out in gooseflesh—not from the air, but from the sinking sensation that they had, in fact, come for her.
They hit the ground, heading towards her in a terrible, beautiful sight—horses neighing and tossing their heads in anticipation, hounds the size of ponies barking and gnashing their teeth, warriors with weapons poised and ready. The hooves of the giant horses never seemed to actually touch the dirt.
What had V called them in his stories? Ah, the wild hunt. Yes, running away was out of the question if she valued her life. Instead, she memorized every detail so she could tell V about them and her many other misadventures.
She’d leave out the events causing her to be in the woods in only her undergarments. Even V wouldn’t understand. Actually, she wasn’t sure she understood completely.
The hunt surrounded her, horses pawing at the ground, hounds wagging their tails impatiently. Even the warriors looked irritated, as if stopping was a major inconvenience. The one with the white hair rode toward her on his imposing horse, two daunting black hounds on either side. The man wasn’t handsome, but pleasant looking, with a canny look in his eyes.
“You are the mortal they call Magnolia?” He stopped in front of her.
Would he know if she lied? Would it help? “Yes, I am.”
“I am Fionn, the leader of this hunt. The high queen sent me to retrieve you.”
Noli suppressed a shiver. She’d only caught a glimpse of the cold, regal woman, but didn’t relish the thought of meeting her, even if she possessed the power to send her home.
Of course, Kevighn could be lying. The queen may no more be collecting those with the Spark than she could have the ability to send her back.
“Do I have a choice?” Under her petticoats her knees shook at the leers and looks of the men accompanying Fionn.
His eyes gleamed. “Not a pleasant one.” He offered her a large, rough hand. “You may ride with me, no harm will befall you.”
She eyed the hand skeptically. “If I get on your horse, I’ll never be able to get off again and forced to ride with you for all my days?”
Fionn laughed a true belly laugh, making the woods seem less ominous. “No, you’ll be able to get off. But that was shrewd. Here it is prudent to be careful with one’s words and actions. If you do not wish to ride with me, I’ll simply throw you over my shoulder.”
That didn’t seem pleasant and he probably wasn’t joking.
She hesitated for another moment. “Where are we going?”
“To Queen Tiana, of course.” He cocked his head, his horse snorting with impatience.
“And we’ll go straight there, the fastest way, and I won’t be harmed or hurt or frightened or … ” She couldn’t remember what else to ask for.
He chuckled. “Little mor
tal, you’ll be fine. Come, my hunt grows impatient and no good comes from an impatient hunt.”
“If you insist.” As if she had a choice.
Giving him her hand, she allowed him to pull her up in front of him onto the giant horse. The horns sounded. “Hold on, small one.”
The hounds howled, the horses neighed, and the warriors cried out as they flew into the twilight in a flurry of hooves, paws, and weaponry, quarry in hand.
Twenty Two
The High Queen’s Palace
Kevighn stared out the window of his room in the palace as he watched the wild hunt depart. Perhaps he hadn’t done the right thing. After all, the last mortal girl the wild hunt chased drowned herself.
Noli didn’t know about the sacrifice. She needed to be watched carefully to ensure she didn’t find out. In some ways, it saddened him that she’d only get to enjoy the luxury of their hospitality for such a short period. In other ways, it could prove a blessing. If Annabelle figured out how to thwart the sacrifice, someone as clever as Noli could wreak havoc.
He sighed, turning around to look at the sumptuous quarters where he spent most of his time when in the Otherworld. Kevighn missed his cabin, especially now that it seemed like a home again—because of Noli.
“I don’t think you should be here when she returns. You’ll serve as an unwelcome distraction.” Calm and cool, the queen stood in the doorway, in another one of her ridiculous outfits. Her bustle, which seemed to be made of spider webs, jutted out several feet behind her. A small mechanical dog sat in her arms. She held a fondness for intricate and silly toys and gadgets and demanded her subjects give her the best of their inventions.
“I don’t know if that’s wise, your majesty,” he replied. If anyone was to lie to her it would be him and him only. Noli would forgive him eventually—it was her nature.
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