Storm Crossed

by Dani Harper

  He reached out to Lissy again. And as with all his other attempts since returning to the Nine Realms, there was no response. Not even Braith could have heard him from such a distance . . . Yet Trahern’s need to hear Lissy’s voice, to know that she was safe, kept him trying just the same.

  As always, the ancient heavy gates stood wide-open. It was not a sign of welcome at all but rather a sign of certainty. The House of Oak’s reputation was such that no one in their right mind would dare venture inside without a signed invitation. To his credit, Cadell didn’t hesitate, but strode through the gates with his great hooves stepping high as if he were on parade.

  Again, Trahern’s mind reached out—and wild relief washed over him like an ocean wave. Where are you? Are you well?

  What the hell are you doing here? You shouldn’t have come!

  It wasn’t the response he’d expected, but he cared not. The feel of her voice in his mind again, angry or not, was purest joy. Where else would I be? Answer me truly—have you been harmed?

  I’m okay. Look, I need you to take care of Fox for me, to teach him and help him cope with his gifts. Don’t come here. Please don’t. I don’t know what she’s up to, but it’s you she wants.

  Brave as always. But there was nothing in any world that would make him leave Lissy in Eirianwen’s hands. Does she know of Fox?

  No. At least not about his gifts. She tried a spell but . . . well, it got interrupted. She knows all about you and me, though. Someone saw us in Tir Hardd.

  So it would seem. There was no other reason for his mother to have taken Lissy, unless she knew she could use her as leverage. Whatever my mother has planned, she will not give up. Do you understand? Eirianwen never gives up what she wants. She will tear your mind and body to pieces until you have told her all. And then she will go after Fox with everything at her disposal.

  Lissy was quiet for a long moment, and he could feel her struggling between her fear for him and her terror for her child. Can’t you just poof me out of here?

  By all the stars of the Seven Sisters, he wished it were that simple. The Hall is warded so that magic may enter freely. It cannot escape. Eirianwen had created the elaborate spell when he was a small child, and she’d made both her sons watch. He didn’t know why, save to further impress upon them how powerful she was and how pointless it was to rebel. What he remembered most, however, were the frightened eyes of the nine fae creatures whose blood she’d spilled on the colorful stone floor to seal the enchantment . . . I have a friend with me, a pwca. He cannot be seen, but you need not fear him. Go with him, and he will take you to get Fox. And then he will carry you both to a place of safety until I send word.

  But—

  Do this for me or Eirianwen will use you to weaken me.

  He could feel her sigh. Okay. There’s something else, though—she has a big black grim that she introduced to me as Braith. I don’t know if it’s some kind of trick or if she really thinks that’s him. I just played along with it as if I believed her.

  Wise of you. And I am now forewarned. Go with the pwca.

  You’ll come when you can, right?

  It was all too possible that he would not prevail, that he would be unable to join her, that he would never send word that it was safe to leave the place where Cadell had hidden her, but Trahern dared not tell her that. Nor could he lie outright. I have a toaster to repair, do I not? And Fox is expecting me to watch Tiger Ninja with him.

  She laughed a little then. All right. Look, Trahern, in case I don’t get another chance—you should know that I love you.

  Her words struck him hard, like the long-ago warth that had knocked him from his horse. For a moment, he was breathless and stunned . . . and then light and warmth seemed to flow into him, filling all the dark, empty spaces, making him whole in a way he had never been. Making him more, somehow. Words had power, as he had once told her, but these words, her words, freely given, lifted and enlivened him like strong magic.

  And there was only one answer for it: Truly, we are Pâr Enaid.

  What does that mean?

  He came to himself then, both stronger and weaker. More determined than ever to defeat Eirianwen, yet more vulnerable at the same time. Have Fox ask Braith to explain it. And do not be surprised if my brother laughs at me.

  Reluctantly, he walled his mind from any further connection.

  “She is in the Hall of the Great Oak, upon the roof,” he said aloud. He could translate himself there, but he wasn’t certain if the pwca needed assistance. “Can you take us up there?”

  Cadell grinned wide, with every pointed tooth showing. He shook himself hard until his equine form sprouted enormous wings.

  THIRTY-TWO

  Trahern stood outside the vast living dome of enchanted oak, with Cadell now hidden as a mouse in his pocket. There is no point in making a simple appeal, he thought. Mercy did not exist in his mother, nor was there the slightest vestige of compassion that could be entreated. But there was Eirianwen’s pride. That he could count upon, that he could work with.

  Plus, of course, a little diversion.

  The great tree shuddered in every limb, and a hail of leaves and acorns fell to the stone floor as Trahern translated into the Hall within a blinding flash of magenta energy.

  “What need has the House of Oak for a human?” he demanded, his words infused with disdain as the colorful flare crackled and dissipated at the far end of the oaken dais. Drawing attention to himself permitted the invisible pwca to slip away to find Lissy. It took considerable resolve for Trahern not to turn his head to look for her himself. Instead, he kept his eyes forward, his riding boots loud upon the golden wood as he stalked toward the great thronelike cadair—and the woman who stood beside it idly balancing a bright dagger on the end of a gold-tipped finger.

  Eirianwen laughed when he came near. He’d forgotten how much he hated that sound, how often it had heralded some new triumph that cost someone else dearly. She had laughed like that when she’d forced him to join in the transformation of his brother . . . “No need at all, now that you are here,” she said lightly. Her knife became a golden fan of oak leaves. She did not sit but strolled the broad platform ahead of him. The long satin train of her embroidered gown glowed like a comet’s trail.

  “I have little time for games. I am charged with the mortal woman’s safekeeping. What have you done with her?” Playing the role of a prince of the House of Oak, Trahern’s demeanor was deliberately cold, eminently haughty. At all costs, his mother must not guess that he cared for Lissy.

  “Nothing really. Though the little fool did just attempt to escape me with her death.” She waved an airy hand at the far side of the great empty room where a dark-haired woman sat with her back against the interlaced branches of the wall.

  Trahern’s heart stuttered, but he held himself in check and refrained from looking in Lissy’s direction. “I assume she is unharmed?” he asked, as if the answer meant little to him one way or the other.

  “Of course the human is unharmed!” she snapped, whirling on him as if to strike him. “I had to shield her myself, or you would be dead and useless to me as well! Whatever were you thinking to give a blood pledge to a mortal? Not only are they ridiculously fragile, but their lives are as brief as an insect’s. How dare you bind your very existence to such a being!”

  “It was necessary to secure her safety.”

  “Fah!” Her gaze fastened on him as if she could will his skull to open and reveal the answers she sought. “What is this pathetic creature to you?”

  “I am on my lord Lurien’s mission. You will have to ask him.” Trahern rested his hand on the light whip at his side, and a bright-blue flicker of energy traveled over the coils at his touch. Few ever saw one and got the chance to tell about it. And no one would have such a weapon on their person unless Lurien himself had given it to them.

  “You act for the Hunt in this matter?” There was a carefully crafted incredulity in her voice. But then, were not all her words cr
afted?

  “I do.” The ring of veracity could be coaxed from vague and partial truths, omissions, and deflections, but an outright lie would be detected immediately, even by Eirianwen. Silently, he thanked whatever gods were listening that Lurien had thought to officially assign him the child and, by extension, his mother.

  “How very fascinating,” she said at last, folding her fan. “I wonder what the Lord of the Wild Hunt finds so interesting about this little mortal. Perhaps we should take her apart and examine the pieces? Who knows what secrets we may find and turn to our advantage?” Her face was suddenly animated, her fine white teeth visible.

  Trahern hadn’t spent eons sparring and posturing in the shallow Court for nothing. He merely lifted a disdainful eyebrow. “Lord Lurien is not of the House of Oak, nor is his blood noble. His condescending taste in pleasure is none of my concern.”

  She struck him then, scoring the side of his face with the heavy golden fan. “Do you think me witless? I have eyes and ears everywhere, even in Tir Hardd. You bedded her yourself, in a forest like an animal.” Revulsion dripped from every word, and he was surprised she didn’t spit at him as well. “You, a prince and heir of the House of Oak, lying with a human!”

  Though he seethed on the inside, Trahern maintained his indifferent mask and invoked a brief wordless spell that not only mended the cut but sought out spilled blood and destroyed it wherever it fell. No sorcerer would risk a single drop of their life’s essence falling into the hands of an enemy. And he had no illusions about what his mother was. “As a prince and heir of such a powerful house, should the Lord of the Wild Hunt possess something that I do not?” he asked, and held tight to the memory of the three fae horses gifted to Lurien by Aurddolen, using that couple’s rumored relationship to color his next words with verity. “I thought perhaps my lord had discovered some new novelty, and I decided to sample it for myself. However, I failed to discern what it is that holds his interest or affords him such pleasure.” He shrugged carelessly and offered her a tiny vulnerability that might distract her further. “It would, of course, be best if he did not learn of my attempt to satisfy my curiosity.”

  He could almost see Eirianwen’s interest in Lissy dissipate like the last vestiges of a whirlwind as it returned to the clouds that spawned it. “Pleasure, is it?” she said. “Such a profound waste of time when the only true and lasting satisfaction lies in power. Of course, that is precisely why I’ve brought you here. I require your service.”

  “Your camarilla is yet loyal to you. Surely the magic of my cousins and uncles is sufficient to whatever conquest you have before you. The House of Oak is no longer my responsibility. I ride with the Hunt.”

  “Do you truly think that protects you from me?”

  “I think only that I must return Lord Lurien’s property to him.” He turned away from her, but she suddenly appeared in his path.

  “Which Houses are the most powerful in the Nine Realms?” she asked.

  “Thorn, the Royal House,” he recited, his tone bored. “Oak, and then Ash. It has ever been so.”

  “It has not ever been so.” Eirianwen didn’t wait for him to digest that but hurried on. “How long have I led the House of Oak?”

  Forever, it seemed. Too long, most certainly. She’d been in power for eons before he was even born. “In truth, I know not. I know of no other leader before you.”

  “There was only one. My father, Brenin Derw, was first, when there were yet only Seven Realms. And he ruled those as well. He was king.”

  The revelation rocked him, but his voice was deliberately dubious. “I have studied much and never read of this. Nor have you ever spoken of it to me.”

  Her own practiced mask appeared to slip for an instant—or was that a calculated move? “I allow that may have been a mistake on my part. Perhaps you would have a better appreciation for your position if you knew from whence you came!” Her fan became a golden branch once more. “Under Brenin’s reign, the realms were prosperous, and my father’s word was law. We neither traded nor corresponded with other fae kingdoms. We had no need of them. Then, two of the Dark Fae territories appealed to form a union with our kingdom—the Draigddynion and the Pobl Dŵr. My father and the House of Oak refused, of course. There were more than enough ugly and inferior creatures in the realms already. And what could the Dragon Men and the Water People possibly offer us? They had little wealth, and their lands were undesirable.

  “But the other Houses—indeed, nearly the whole of the kingdom—wished for an accord. Stronger together was their rallying cry.” She no longer glided but stormed about the dais, pausing only to strike the great oak cadair repeatedly with the gilded symbol of her office to emphasize her words, applying such force that tiny chips and splinters flew from the living hardwood. Even the gilded branch bent in her hand, losing some of its leaves.

  Trahern had seen his mother angry countless times. He had never once witnessed her out of control. “A mildly interesting history lesson,” he said, his tone carefully noncommittal. “Should I inquire as to the outcome?”

  “Brenin opposed the union, of course, and rightfully sought to suppress those who spoke in favor of it. He sent his soldiers to restore order, but the House of Thorn led a revolt that unseated my father and left him sorely wounded. The Realms united to place Rhiannon, grandmother of Gwenhidw, upon the Glass Throne in his stead. And the Seven Realms became Nine.”

  Eirianwen stood still then, looking off into nothingness, as if she were watching it all happen before her. Her strident voice quieted to almost a whisper. “The House of Oak was all but destroyed, and my father’s will to live with it. When he died, the name of Brenin was struck from the records and never uttered again.”

  “I knew none of this. However, that was long ago, and I fail to see any connection to the present.”

  Ferocity was in her gaze when she turned again. “I inherited what was left of the House of Oak, and I alone have built it up, piece by piece, acquisition after acquisition. I have always done whatever was necessary for the good of the House and for the family. Spell by spell, and blood by blood, for millennia.”

  How much blood? How many lives destroyed for your ambitions, for your pleasure?

  “Now we are wealthy and strong once more.” She spread her arms wide, the sleeves of her gown like glittering wings. “Our humiliation is forgotten. Is not our name feared throughout the kingdom? Do we not stand above the others?”

  He bit back what he really wanted to say. With lives weighing in the balance, better to placate and distract his mother. At the far end of the Great Hall, it appeared as if Lissy still rested on the floor against the wall. In truth, it was only a simple spell, and there was no one there at all. His woman was mounted on the winged Cadell, and the invisible pair waited in silence for him to find them a way out of the doorless Hall—or make one. “Truly, we are the envy of many, and all are aware that Eirianwen, the Shining One, has done it.” He offered her a small polite bow for good measure and hated himself for doing so. Too many times in the past he’d been forced to do the same. Only for Lissy’s sake do I do this, he thought. Now and never again.

  Apparently pleased with his answer, his mother recovered control of her features and smiled prettily. She sat upon the oaken cadair, her glittering train automatically curling around her feet as if alive. The damaged wood on the arms and back of the chair healed smoothly before Trahern’s eyes. The gilded branch also mended itself before becoming a fan that she again fluttered before her. “And now you understand why I have kept you in reserve and why I have now brought you back,” she said. “It is long past time that the House of Oak took its rightful place.”

  “Which is?”

  “We must take our throne from the usurpers. Gwenhidw must die.”

  He felt no surprise, save that his mother hadn’t made an attempt on the Glass Throne long before now. But the thought of Eirianwen ruling the Nine Realms was truly horrifying. “We?”

  “Don’t be obtuse. Of cours
e, you will assist me. Your sorcery is useful, but the diplomatic skills and contacts acquired while trading on behalf of our House are far more valuable. Your ability to negotiate agreements will help us raise alliances.”

  “Surely you do not believe that other Houses will help you overthrow the queen?”

  “I do not have to believe. I know that there are many among the Tylwyth Teg who would be quite pleased to see Gwenhidw dead. She ignores counsel or petition from the great Houses in favor of indulging the mixed rabble that have followed her to the new territory. She has even invited them to participate in ruling it!”

  “Perhaps her methods will infuse new life into an aging system.”

  “Listen to yourself!” Eirianwen looked at him askance over the top of the fan, as if she could not quite believe what he had just said. “One would think you had no ambition at all. The Tylwyth Teg were born to rule, and those of the House of Oak above all. Shall I now take orders from a bwbach or a coblyn? Should I submit to foolish new laws invented by the Draigddynion?”

  “Truly, I fail to see the threat to you. Tir Hardd is a long way from the Nine Realms. An experiment, a colony, a crude frontier, if you will. It does not dictate policy here.”

  “An idea is the most dangerous weapon in existence,” she hissed. “Gwenhidw’s radical vision threatens us all. If it is not stopped, it will spread to the Nine Realms.”

  Such a change is long overdue. He folded his arms in front of him. “If treachery is your goal, your skills at subterfuge are far beyond mine. And surely you would not trust my help were I to give it to you. Braith once said you feared us, and that he told you one of us would be your undoing. It surprises me that you did not slay us both outright the moment he uttered the words.”