It was a few long moments before the door swung inward and a small, elderly woman peered out at them. Acting as a lady-in-waiting to Queen Victoria since she took the throne at age eighteen, Mamie was now in her eighties. Her hair had faded to a silvery white, like the aged bark of a birch tree, but her eyes were as bright and lively as ever in a face that was soft with wrinkles. Her lips creased with a pleased smile. “William Richmond, is that you?”
“Hello Mamie.” Rieker tucked his hat under his arm. “You look well.”
“Getting older all the time, but well.” She cocked her head, as her bright eyes turned to Tiki. The movement reminded Tiki of a little bird.
“Allow me to introduce…” Rieker hesitated.
“Tara Kathleen, M’am.” Tiki dipped her head as she curtsied.
“Tara Kathleen Dunbar.” Rieker said the name as though it were an endearment.
“Lovely. So pleased to meet you.” Mamie’s small wrinkled hands reached for Tiki’s. “A bit of Irish ancestry, then?”
“My mother’s side.” Tiki smiled.
“Welcome, my dear. Come in, come in. I’ve just made pasties. I’ll put a kettle on and we’ll catch up.” She ushered them in with spry steps and led them to her petite living room before bustling away to the kitchen.
Tiki and Rieker situated themselves on a small loveseat that faced toward the paned windows with a view of the lake. In the far distance, a fork of lightning split the sky above Buckingham Palace.
“You must come back in the summer, when I make my famous apple pie,” Mamie called from the kitchen. “The sweetest apples in all of England grow right near here on the palace grounds.”
“I remember those trees from when I was a lad growing up,” Rieker replied. “Leo and I used to climb them with our slingshots to keep an eye out for enemy spies.” He chuckled at the memory. “Usually our only target was Arthur. Leo’s sisters learned quick enough not to come near us.” He jumped to his feet to assist Mamie as she carried in a tray loaded with tea and meat pies.
“Just put it on the table there, dear.” The older woman settled into the floral cushions of a worn rocker. “You look well, William. So grown up now and such a handsome young man. You remind me of your father. I haven’t seen you in what? Four years?”
There was a moment of silence and Tiki glanced at Rieker. His family had been murdered four years ago. Was he remembering that as well?
But if Mamie’s comment dredged up painful memories, Rieker gave no sign of it. “That sounds about right,” he said.
Mamie poured tea into the china cups and set the kettle down. “You’ve sorted some things about your family, I take it?”
“Sorted some things, confused about others.” He reached for Tiki’s hand as he sat down on the loveseat again. “Thankfully, I’ve had help.”
Mamie smiled at Tiki, her eyes sharp in contrast to the soft wrinkles that wreathed her face. “I suspect you’ve helped each other. What brings you here this day?”
“Mamie.” Rieker leaned forward, his face serious, his dark hair shadowing his eyes. “We’d like to ask you something.”
She clasped her hands together. “Best to just get to it straight-away, then.”
“You’re aware that one of Queen Victoria’s rings went missing last Christmas?”
“Of course.”
“You’re aware I protect the ring now?”
Tiki held her breath. Was this old woman really in Queen Victoria’s confidence?
Something glittered in Mamie’s blue eyes. “As you were meant to do, William. I’m sure the truce is safe in your care.”
“Thank you.” Rieker nodded, not questioning Mamie’s knowledge of the truce held within the stone. He motioned to Tiki. “Tiki has a mark on her arm that I think you’re familiar with.”
Self-consciously, Tiki slid her dark green sleeve up and revealed the thin black lines that twisted and curled around her narrow wrist.
Mamie stared for a long moment at Tiki’s birthmark. “An fáinne sí,” the old woman whispered in awe. “So very beautiful.” She leaned forward and rubbed her fingers gently over Tiki’s skin. “And so rare.”
“We’ve learned a bit of information about Tiki’s mark,” Rieker said. “We’re hoping maybe you can explain what it means.”
Mamie released Tiki’s arm and sat back, threading her fingers together on her lap. “What have you learned, my boy?”
“Have you ever heard of someone named Finn MacLochlan?”
“Finn.” Mamie said the name reverently.
Tiki shifted in her seat. “You know of him?”
Mamie’s lips curved in a smile. “If you know anything about the world of Faerie, you’ve surely heard the stories of Finn MacLochlan.”
Rieker leaned forward. “Who was he?”
“Ah, Finn. He was one of a kind, that young man.” The old woman pushed her chair back and began to rock slowly. “Finn was a warrior, very fierce, very strong, but he was also a poet and said to be a seer. He had a great appreciation for the beauty of nature—” she winked at Rieker— “as well as for a beautiful face.”
She laughed, her lips twisting in a mischievous grin. “Finn is practically a legend in the world of the fey. Of course he was too handsome for his own good. Made him a bit of a rogue, I daresay.”
“You sound like you knew him,” Tiki said.
“It’s said that he was the only person to ever beat his father, Finvarra, at a game of chess. That tells you something about how clever he was.” Mamie sighed. “Maybe too clever.”
“Finvarra,” Rieker repeated. “He was a faerie king, right?”
Mamie smiled at him. “Well done, William. Finvarra was the high king of the Daoine Sidhe.”
Tiki rubbed her brow, trying to take in everything Mamie was telling them. “The Daoine Sidhe?” She pronounced the words deena shee as Mamie had.
“The faeries of Ireland, of course, dear,” Mamie said. “Faeries are ancient creatures. It was in Ireland that the Seelie court originated, though the Scots sometimes try to claim ownership.” The glides of Mamie’s rocker created a quiet shushing in the cottage as she slowly rocked back and forth. Tiki had the eerie sense of somehow moving back through time.
“Long ago, in the very beginning, there was only one court in the world of the fey: the Seelie court—the blessed court—but there was one who did unspeakable things. His name was Braeden, which meant from the dark valley.”
“What did he do?” Rieker asked.
“He murdered his own mother in his quest for power and then lied about it. There was an outrage and he was expelled from court.” Mamie’s mouth twisted down in distaste. “But he was so ambitious that he forcibly enslaved the fey outside the court and created an army that became the UnSeelie court. One that thrived on chaos and warfare. The dark court.”
“The court that Donegal now rules?” Rieker asked.
“Yes. The UnSeelies have had other high kings over the years after Braeden, but Donegal has ruled for many centuries now. He is especially vicious.” She braced her elbows on the wooden arms of the rocker and leaned forward, her voice full of warning. “Donegal is convinced that technology is replacing what magic could do before. He believes it’s killing the world of the fey. He wants to destroy London and take back the space he believes should belong to the Otherworld.”
“What of the Seelie court?” Rieker asked.
“For the last millennium, Eridanus ruled the court of sun and light, though make no mistake—” she pointed a crooked finger at him— “the Seelie’s can be mischievous and deadly, as well. He acknowledged that their world was changing with the encroachment of humans, but the difference was he believed we had to meld the worlds—to learn to live side by side so we could all survive.”
“But what of Tiki’s birthmark, Mamie?” Rieker’s gaze was intent on the older woman. “What of this supposed connection to Finn MacLochlan?”
“An fáinne sí is said to follow the lineage of the true high kings of
Tara. Finn bore the same mark on his wrist. A very rare pattern indeed.”
She lifted her thin shoulders. “Finn should have inherited his father’s throne, and ruled the Seelie court, but he chose not to. He was young and tempestuous.” She waved a wrinkled hand through the air as if to dismiss the faerie’s capricious mood swings. “Finvarra had a nasty habit of womanizing and he especially liked to abduct mortal women. Finn was so disgusted by his father’s disregard for these women that he left court and struck out on his own.” Mamie paused to sip from her cup.
“Where did he go?” Tiki asked.
“It was said that he left Ireland and came to England. The stories were that he’d come to London to return a mortal woman his father had stolen. He was the last person to bear an fáinne sí.” She slowed the swing of her chair. “Until now, that is.”
Tiki’s heart pounded in her ears, her breath tight in her throat. Mamie’s words were like a weight pressing down, squeezing the air from her lungs. Maybe Larkin had told the truth. Rieker stood up and paced to the small fireplace, his height accentuated by the low ceilings in the cottage.
“There was more we learned.” His voice was tense. “Tiki was told that she’d been hidden in London by someone named Adasara.”
Mamie rocked slowly back and forth in her chair. “Adasara was one of the oldest faeries of the Seelie court. She would often shapeshift into a deer, which reflected the true essence of her spirit: a gentle, harmless creature. But make no mistake, she held great power.” Mamie paused long enough in her rocking to let a small, marmalade cat jump into her lap. The cat circled once, then settled into a ball, purring with contentment. “Who is it that mentioned her name?”
Rieker told the old woman of Larkin.
“Nimh Álainn,” Mamie said softly.
“What?” Rieker dropped down onto the loveseat close to Tiki.
“Nimh Álainn,” Mamie repeated. “It was a nickname the other faeries gave her. It means beautiful poison. She has always had a terrible temper. Many thought she was jealous of Adasara’s position and Eridanus’ favor of her.”
“You know Larkin?” Tiki said.
“Larkin, Nimh Álainn, whatever name she goes by, she has existed for a long time. She left the Seelie Court suddenly. It was whispered she left because Eridanus wouldn’t make her high queen. I never heard what became of her after she joined the UnSeelie’s.” The old woman stroked the cat who purred contently. “It sounds as if she has taken a turn for the worse.”
Tiki tugged her sleeve back over her wrist, shivering with a sudden chill. “She said she was a spy for Eridanus.”
“A spy?” Surprise echoed in Mamie’s voice. “Nimh Álainn?”
“But where does Tiki come into all of this?” Rieker asked. “If what you say is correct, this birthmark would suggest she has a fey heritage, but she doesn’t remember anything.”
Mamie’s eyes rested on Tiki. “If Adasara hid you in London, she must have feared for your life and would have put a powerful glamour on you. If you are indeed the child of Finn, as your mark would suggest, your presence would have explosive consequences within the courts. Especially now. You must be very careful.”
“But how can we find out the truth?”
Mamie was silent for a moment as she rocked. Her fingers, crooked with age, gently smoothed the fur of the cat. “If anyone would know the magic that has been cast upon you, it would be Larkin, as you call her.” Mamie looked from Rieker to Tiki. “I would start there.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
“It’s like following a serpent eating its own tail.” Rieker’s frustration was evident as their carriage passed the shops on Bond Street on the ride back to Grosvenor Square. His fists were clenched on his knees, and he sat forward as if ready to spring from the coach. The rain that had threatened earlier now poured down, pounding on the roof like a million little drums beating. “Everything always seems to lead back to Larkin.”
Tiki was silent as they rode, her head jostling against the cushion as the carriage clacked over the uneven cobblestones. She stared blankly out the small window at the shops as they passed, the glow of lighted windows making them appear to be a safe haven. But was anywhere safe anymore?
“Do you know if Larkin escaped that night? she asked.
“All I know for sure was that Donegal’s soldiers were still looking for her when I managed to get out of the palace.”
JOHNNY CONTINUED TO make amazing improvement and was able to move about the house now. Tiki and Fiona were sitting with him in the drawing room.
“Can you remember what happened?” Tiki asked him. She’d been waiting for the opportunity to find out what had caused his horrific injuries, hoping there might be a logical explanation. They reminded her of the wounds Rieker had suffered last December at the hands of an evil faerie named Marcus in that very same alleyway.
Johnny tilted his head to the side and flicked his hair out of his eyes. “It happened the day you brought me the stew.”
Tiki tried to hide her surprise. That was also the day she’d met Dain in Charing Cross.
“I was going through the back alley when somebody jumped me from behind.” Johnny grimaced. “They grabbed my leg—felt like they set the bloody thing on fire—and flipped me around. The next thing I knew, they’d knocked me to the ground. I couldn’t see their face. I figured I was done for and then—they were gone.”
Johnny shifted his gaze back to Tiki and Fiona. “I didn’t see ‘em run away—didn’t hear any footsteps. One minute they were attacking me—the next, I was alone.” For once, his expression was serious. “I don’t even remember how I got home—I could barely walk.”
“You were lucky you survived,” Fiona whispered.
Johnny leaned back against the chair where he sat near the fire. “What was lucky was that you thought to come check on me.” He gave her a warm smile. “Saved my life, you did.”
Fiona’s cheeks turned pink. “I’m glad for it.”
Tiki sat back. There was a message of some sort in Johnny’s attack, she was sure of it. “Thank goodness you’re safe. For now, Johnny, I think it’s best if you just plan on staying here.”
THE NEXT DAY was gloomy again, the afternoon stormy and cold. Tiki and Rieker sat alone in his study before a blazing fire. Since their return from the Otherworld, he’d taken to inviting her into the room more often.
“I’ve been thinking about the Stone of Tara,” Tiki said, “and what you said about a puppet on the throne.”
Rieker raised his head from where he sat reading the Count of Monte Cristo and gazed at Tiki intently. “Go on.”
“Mamie said Larkin was jealous of Adasara—that Larkin wanted to be High Queen.” Tiki hesitated. “Maybe Eridanus and Finn deliberately misled Larkin because they didn’t trust her. Maybe they feared her ambitions would blind her to everything else—so they didn’t tell her everything.”
“Certainly possible.”
Tiki’s voice caught. “Eridanus hid the ring of the truce—one of the most important artifacts in the history of Faerie—in the mortal world. Why?” She continued before Rieker could answer. “Because it wasn’t safe in the Otherworld.” Tiki’s cheeks warmed. “Larkin said that Adasara hid me in London.”
Rieker let his breath out in a slow whistle. His hair had fallen across his forehead, reminding Tiki of when she’d known him as a pickpocket.
“They hid you—they hid the ring—” he closed his book with a snap and sat forward— “that’s got to be it.” His eyes glowed with excitement. “Fate never crushed those who Truth never deceived.” Rieker laughed for the first time in ages. “Isn’t that just like a faerie? In a place where the mirrors are said to reveal the truth, they place a fake.”
“Exactly,” Tiki breathed, “the stone wasn’t real.”
Rieker pushed himself out of the chair to pace. “I’ll bet a bloody thousand quid you’re right—the stone in the Palace of Mirrors isn’t the true Tara Stone. That’s why it didn’t roar when you st
epped on it. That’s what the Fool was saying: the ‘Truth’ of the Tara Stone has never deceived anyone because we haven’t found the bloody thing yet.”
“And just like the ring,” Tiki said in an excited voice, “it must be hidden in London.”
ON SATURDAY, FIONA was putting the finishing touches on Tiki’s elaborate hairdo as Tiki sat in her thin shift trying not to squirm. Clara danced around the room with her homemade wings, pretending to be wearing a gown.
“Who should I dance with next, Tiki?” the little girl asked, giggling. “Prince Arthur? Or maybe Dain?” Then she was off again, twirling and humming.
At the mention of Dain, Tiki’s stomach twinged. She’d thought often of gruff, scarred Sean and the beautiful features of Dain, though she’d not mentioned him to anyone, not even Rieker. Part of her ached for how alone he was, though she knew there was nothing she could do to help him.
Tiki let out a sigh and threaded her fingers together, trying to be patient as Fiona continued braiding and pinning strands of hair.
“I’m almost done,” Fiona said as she twisted another section and secured it into place. As she reached for the comb, she ran her fingers over the skin of Tiki’s back. “Teek—what are these scars from?”
“What scars?” Tiki craned her head to see over her shoulder.
Fiona ran her fingers gently over Tiki’s skin again, up and down in two spots. “You’ve got two scars back here—thin lines—between your shoulder blades. What are they from?”
“Oh, those.” Tiki had forgotten about the scars. “I don’t know—I’ve always had them. Something happened when I was a baby. Can’t remember now what it was.” Suddenly, Larkin’s words echoed in Tiki’s head: ‘Adasara must have torn yours off when she brought you to London…’ Tiki chewed her lower lip. Had the faerie been right?
The Torn Wing Page 18