by Dani Harper
Something Gwenhidw had said tugged at Lurien’s memory: “This time, promise me instead that you will keep our people safe. Promise me you will see them to Tir Hardd should I fail to do so . . .”
He cursed himself soundly for agreeing to such a promise. It was all too plain that Aurddolen was right. As llaw dde, he had to establish order here, restore confidence in the envoys, and keep the queen’s bold plans for her people alive and moving forward. Gwenhidw would expect no less of him.
But as Lord of the Wild Hunt, someone was going to pay with their life for what happened on Holyhead Mount.
Liam was appalled. “You told me she was a queen, for chrissakes—you can’t put her in the damn barn!”
“She’s too weak to move far,” said Ranyon, as they carried her in a strange gossamer sling he’d produced from one of his charms. “And the barn will hide her from her enemies. Better a safe hut than a dangerous castle, dontcha know.”
“Okay, I’ll give you that. But let me bring out a mattress from the house at least,” said Liam.
The ellyll shook his head. “Already got a charm fer that.”
Liam stepped inside the barn just in time to see something bizarre growing between the goat pen and the horse enclosure. Four pure-white saplings had burst straight up through the dirt floor.
“How . . . ?” he began, his eyes wide.
“I had a few seeds with me,” said Ranyon. “They just needed planting.”
Of course they did, thought Liam, as the trees rapidly twisted themselves into a great braided platform, replete with a bower of coin-shaped leaves. Neither Chevy and her foals nor any of the goats appeared concerned in the least that a living bed had just sprung up in their midst.
“Now this here is a simple spell of multiplication.” The ellyll laid a single downy feather from his favorite spotted hen upon the center framework, which instantly proliferated into thousands until there was a feather mattress a foot thick, though what held them together, Liam couldn’t begin to guess.
Gwenhidw, queen of the Nine Realms and the faery kingdom, was gently laid with the utmost care upon the soft and splendid bed, her silver sword placed beside her.
In my barn . . . Just as Liam thought his brain would explode from the overdose of strangeness, Caris grabbed his arm and pulled him outside where sunrise had pinkened the sky over the eastern hills.
“Liam?” She cupped his face with her small hands and made him look at her. “I know it seems terribly rude to put Gwenhidw in such a place, but no one will be looking among the goats for a queen, don’t you see?”
“Hey, I’d sleep in there myself if I had a bed like that. And I have slept in there once in a while in the straw while the goats were kidding. It’s comfortable enough, I guess, and it’s not cold. But she looks like she’s in bad shape—and I’m even more concerned about who’s going to come looking for her. Hey, is that Dodge?”
He stared dumbly as his Appaloosa stallion trotted proudly over the hill into view. With him was a smaller horse, undoubtedly a mare, and Christ only knew whose farm the amorous Dodge had visited this time. I swear, you’re going to end up gelded yet, you butthead. Of course, Dodge wouldn’t make things simple by coming straight to his owner or anything like that. Instead, the stallion veered to the left with his famous look-at-me canter. The mare wheeled to follow . . .
And revealed a rider lying low over her back.
They took off at a sprint to catch the horses, but Caris already knew the identity of the rider. She would have recognized that exquisite green gown anywhere. Getting close enough to help Rhedyn was something else again. Dodge was maddeningly certain that Caris and Liam wanted to play. Horses being herd animals, the mare followed the stallion’s every move, her finely shaped head pressed close to her new friend’s flank. It was a fortunate thing indeed that the unconscious woman did not fall off.
Finally Liam made a fast feint to the right, then dove like a quarterback to the left, grabbing Dodge’s halter at last. Caris quickly grasped the mare’s silver reins and found that Rhedyn had knotted them tightly around her gloved hands. Thankfully, a pulse still fluttered at her slender neck. “She’s alive,” Caris called out, breathless.
“Good,” Liam managed. “I’m not.” He leaned over to suck in more air but kept a solid grip on the halter. “Remind me to kill you too, you big dope,” he whispered fiercely to the horse. In a more charitable voice, he asked Caris, “So who is she? And why are so many women showing up on my farm all of a sudden?”
He almost said beautiful women, but thought better of it. He’d been out of the dating game a hell of a long time, but Liam figured Caris would probably want to be the only woman he thought attractive. And in truth, she was. When he looked at her, he felt warmth and want and a wealth of human emotions. Pleasant, welcoming emotions.
As lovely as they were, both the queen and this newcomer possessed an ethereal quality, an otherness that made him want to keep his distance. They don’t belong to this world. If he’d never even heard of faeries, he instinctively knew that much.
Liam had to yank on Dodge’s halter more than once as they made their way across the field to the farmyard, and he was glad Caris was leading the mare. The stallion continued his role as a complete pain in the ass, still trying to show off for his new conquest. The mare was a pretty thing, red in color and as fine-boned and built for speed as any Arab. She’d been running hard too—she was exhausted, and lathered from her bit to her flanks. Had she spooked and bolted? Or had the woman been trying to escape something?
As they approached the barn, Liam hollered for the others. Jay and Ranyon ran to meet them. Morgan poked her head out of the doorway. “What’s going on?” she asked.
“If you figure it out, let me know,” said Liam. “Someone attend to the rider. I’ve got to put Dodge away, then I’ll come and get the mare.”
Dodge didn’t like the idea, of course, but Liam had had enough of the stallion’s antics for one day. Thankful beyond all measure that the horse stalls were still standing, he locked him in and bolted the top door for good measure. When he returned, he was surprised to find the group by the back porch of the house. They were gathered around the woman in green—and she was awake.
“I cannot stop,” she whispered hoarsely, and Ranyon handed her a drink. Her delicate fae features were pale and anxious, and her gaze flicked back and forth over the rim of the mug as she downed the contents quickly.
Liam noticed that the stranger wasn’t looking at the ellyll or even at the humans that surrounded her, but beyond. Hunted, he thought. Or haunted. Maybe both. He glanced around the farm himself, just in case, but saw nothing amiss.
“I cannot stay. I have to find a way back,” she said. Her voice was a little stronger now, but still thick with fear. She was sitting on the bottom step, and Liam didn’t think she looked strong enough to stand, never mind go anywhere. Caris appeared with a blanket from the house and draped it around the woman’s narrow shoulders, then sat down beside her.
“You’re safe here, Rhedyn,” she said.
The cup tumbled from the faery’s fingers, and she stared at Caris. “By the Seven Sisters, you live!” She seized her hand with both of hers. “I am so glad. I thought surely you had been slain.”
“I’m happy to see you too. Did you escape as well?”
“No.” Rhedyn glanced around again. “No, I’ve only been forgotten for the moment. I have to go.”
“Go where?” asked Morgan.
“I have to find a way back to the Nine Realms. It’s of the utmost importance that I get a message to the queen. I have information for her.”
“Well now,” said Ranyon, looking at his human friends. “We just might be able to help ya with that.”
TWENTY-FOUR
Okay, lemme see if I have it straight. The green faery is Rhedyn, and she’s hiding out from her boyfriend,” said Liam. “He, of co
urse, just happens to be Maelgwn, who is trying to kill the queen so he can rule over everything in his world and ours. Right so far?”
Caris nodded. Rhedyn had made a full confession to Gwenhidw in the queen’s makeshift chambers—closely watched by Ranyon, Jay, and Morgan. They’d then escorted the faery to the house and locked her in a bedroom, with custom-made charms on the doors and windows for good measure. Caris couldn’t blame her friends for their abundance of caution: the queen’s safety was paramount. As much as Caris herself pitied Rhedyn and appreciated that the faery woman had once tried to defend her, she dared not trust her. Rhedyn had been under Maelgwn’s control for a very long time and, for all anyone knew, he could be controlling her even now.
With the green-clad faery confined to the house, and Gwenhidw residing in the barn, the most privacy Caris and Liam could find was under a canopy at the colorful gnome party. They chose the leather couch where he’d recently watched a baseball game with Ranyon, and just held each other for a while. The TV screen was blank, and while the numberless garden gnomes were still present, they were blessedly quiet. Jay had volunteered to milk the goats, so she had the luxury of lying down in Liam’s arms for a while. For a long, sweet moment she could pretend they were like any other couple in love . . .
If only Liam would stop asking questions.
“And Maelgwn is also the asshole prince who turned you into a dog, and then tried to kill you?”
“One and the same,” she said. “But don’t you see? I’m the lucky one in that he thinks me dead already.” She decided not to mention what the ellyll had said, that the prince would likely be wanting proof of her demise. She would have to cross her fingers against evil and hope that Maelgwn would be too busy trying to implement his plans—which Rhedyn had revealed were far more grandiose than anything Caris had imagined.
“Rhedyn will never be safe anywhere,” she continued. “But as he’s a fearful bully, he’s more likely to torment her than kill her. The queen is the one in the truest danger. Having dared to make an attempt on her life, Maelgwn will not be satisfied until he’s finished her. And that is why we’re hiding her in the most unlikely place we can think of. Besides, Ranyon says the spotted horses have charms that will help conceal her.”
“Wait just a minute—you’re saying my own damn horses are magic too?”
“Everything is, cariad,” she said gently, and slipped her arms around him. “Small or large, everything is.” She’d meant the kiss to comfort him, but it quickly became something more. Liam needed her, but she needed him just as much. And ached with the desire to finish what they had begun in the night.
“Sorry I have to interrupt you guys.” Jay ducked under the canopy, and Liam groaned so loudly that Caris giggled like a girl.
“Okay, really sorry.” He put his hands up in a gesture of peace. “Please don’t kill the messenger.”
“Depends on the damn message,” growled Liam.
“Actually it’s for Caris. Ranyon wants you to play for the queen. I didn’t know you were musical—I thought he must mean Liam, but he definitely asked for you.”
“Me?” She felt stunned. In an instant she was reliving a moment in time, when she was surrounded by a faery hunt and their prince commanded her to play . . . Who am I to play for such a being? What songs could a mortal possibly offer? “Whatever for?”
“The little guy seems to think it would help, and I agree,” said Jay. “My wife, Starr, could tell you all about energies and resonance and such. But the bottom line is that music has healing properties.”
It was daunting enough to be asked to entertain the queen. But to help heal her? Ranyon’s words came back to Caris then: “Music has power, dontcha know. It enhances fae magic, and it makes magic of its own as well.”
“What kind of music should I play? What if I play the wrong tune?” She hoped Ranyon would give her some instructions because she felt completely overwhelmed.
“Hey.” Liam squeezed her hand, bringing her back to the present. “You can do this,” he said aloud, then whispered in her ear, “And I’m proud of you that you can.”
She eyed him strangely. “But you’ve never heard me play a note.”
“Oh yes, I have,” he said quietly, and stroked her hair. “More than once. I’ll tell you about it later.” He kissed the little frown on her forehead.
Jay looked uncomfortable. “Um, the sooner you can come, the better.”
“I cannot say no,” she said. “Give me a few more minutes, and I’ll come.”
Jay gave a mock salute and gratefully disappeared.
Caris looked up at the blue-eyed man who’d become so vital to her in only a couple of days and held his hands in both of hers. “I don’t know what you were meaning. Just don’t be thinking that I care not for your pain, Liam Cole. This will be hard for you, I know. I need to ask—will you be all right if I do this?”
“Right as rain. And if I’m not, then you’ll just have to nurse me back to health.” He winked, and she couldn’t help but smile. “Look—if it can help the queen in any way, then it’s important. You go ahead and find out what kind of songs they’re looking for. I’ll get the fiddle from the house and bring it out to you.” Liam kissed her lightly on the forehead, then seemed to think better of it, kissing her on the lips with a soul-deep tenderness that went on and on until she felt buoyant enough to fly. “Remember where we left off,” he said as he got up and headed for the house.
Caris clung to the sensation of that kiss and all the emotion behind it as she walked slowly toward the farmyard. She paused in a clearing between the barn and the house that had been filled with tall trees before the storm. As she looked, one sad and broken trunk had already sprouted a brand new twig with a tiny tender leaflet. It filled her heart with encouragement that beauty could yet overcome destruction.
And then she saw something else.
High on the ridge that flanked the farm, an animal moved against the gray stone and straw-colored grasses. It wasn’t a wolf—it was bigger and blacker than any wolf had a right to be. And a wolf would have shown concern that a human had spotted it. Instead, the creature watched Caris with an intensity that made her shiver despite the warmth of the morning sun. It didn’t even try to hide.
A grim didn’t have to.
The great black dog lingered a few moments more, no doubt until it was confident she had seen it and knew it for what it was. Then it vanished, leaving behind a mocking howl that echoed off the ridge and chilled her to the bone.
She’d been found.
Caris stood there for a long moment, considering. Run or hide? If she asked them, she knew that her friends would immediately jump in their truck and take her far away from here, and maybe—maybe—Maelgwn wouldn’t find her again for a long time.
But the queen would be left behind. The prince would come to the farm looking for Caris, and he would find Gwenhidw instead. He’ll kill her.
Caris had no love for the fae. In fact, she had every reason to hate them for what had been done to her. Their petty quarrels and power struggles among themselves were none of her concern. And yet . . . Minding her own business hadn’t been enough to shield herself from disaster. The fae’s problems spilled over into the human world regularly, whether humans knew it or not. And there were too many like Maelgwn who interfered with mortal lives regularly and inflicted cruelty for the sheer sport of it.
Ranyon wasn’t like that at all. His heart was bigger than he was. Even on short acquaintance, Caris couldn’t help but love the little ellyll. During her time in the fae realm, she’d observed that Lord Lurien valued honor; he was as different from Maelgwn as night was from day. And the dear queen herself? Somehow Caris understood that Gwenhidw’s breathtaking beauty came from within. She radiated what she was, and she represented all that was good and worth fighting for in any domain. She can’t die! If the queen perished, then the power-hungry and the hea
rtless—like Maelgwn and his followers—would take her place. They would rule the Nine Realms beneath Caris’s home country and they would rule Tir Hardd beneath this new land too. And things would be worse for both the fae and the human worlds. Caris looked around her again at what a rogue hunt had done to this once-charming farm in a single night.
Dear heavens, what would happen if those fae were free to wreak such havoc every night?
There was no other choice she could make that she could live with. She had to play for the queen, had to try to help her, strengthen her. The grim would surely tell Maelgwn where Caris was, but perhaps—just perhaps—Gwenhidw could be saved.
But what about Liam? If I tell him, he’ll be wanting to take me away. If I don’t tell him, he’ll be wanting to fight the prince when he comes to take me. She hoped Ranyon had an idea as she ran for the barn as fast as she was able.
But the first thing she had to do was warn them all.
The ivory leather case was sitting on Caris’s bed. Liam didn’t expect the mere sight of it to punch him in the gut, didn’t expect something inside to twist hard enough to hurt when he picked it up. Part of him wanted to open it, open it, open it, to see and touch the fiddle within, to heft it and stroke music from it—and another part of him wanted nothing more than to throw it from the window as if it were on fire.
He did neither. A wild grief coupled with a fearful yearning blew like a cold wind through the empty rooms of his soul. He clutched the case to his chest, although it seemed to grow heavier with every step. But he’d already determined that he was going to get the fiddle to the barn for Caris’s sake, no matter what effect it had on him.
The sun had cleared the hill when Liam entered the barn. The air smelled fresh and clean. Pretty impressive for a barn, really, but probably because it had no roof. He looked up to see candy-pink and pale yellow clouds in a robin’s-egg sky and wondered what his royal guest thought of the extra-large skylight.