by Liz de Jager
I open my mouth to tell him where they can shove talk of destiny but he presses his lips to mine again and his fingers are buried in my hair.
‘Where are you going?’ I ask against his lips when he pulls slightly away.
‘I can’t tell you. And not because I don’t want to; it’s because I honestly don’t know.’
‘I don’t understand this . . .’ I say, my lips pressed against his mouth. ‘How can they do this to you?’
‘You have come to mean so much to me, Kit Blackhart.’ His words actually cause me pain and I trace his jawline with my fingertips, finding it impossible not to touch him. His eyes too are more gold than blue now. ‘Remember that, please. I wake up and all I think about is you, your smile, how you can frighten your enemies away merely by shouting at them. But mostly I think about how good it feels to hold you.’
Tears are running down my face as he stands up from the chair beside my bed. I sit up and swing my legs off the bed and stand up too fast. I catch the hand he reaches out to me and steady myself. I curl my arms around him and hold him close, pressing a kiss against his lips. I hold on to him, as I remember him doing once before, as if he never wanted to let me go. I take a breath, remembering Eilian and the story she told me as we raced across the lake in the starlight. I remember about duty, honour and obeying a geas and I still think it’s a whole load of crap.
But I turn my face to Thorn’s and put on a smile far braver than I feel. ‘Travel safely, to wherever it is that you’re going,’ I say to him. ‘Let me know if you ever need more rescuing.’
He gives a half-laugh – or was it a sob? – and walks to the door. ‘I may just do that,’ he says, raising a hand in farewell.
I sink down on my bed, alone in the beautiful room, stupidly trying not to cry and stupidly failing.
Chapter Fifty
The door opens before Thorn can raise his hand to knock. He hesitates a second before stepping into the room, past Aiden.
‘She’s awake?’ Aiden asks as he shuts and locks the door, pointedly ignoring Thorn’s bodyguards as they take up their positions – outside the room.
Thorn nods, heading for the balcony, which overlooks the lush gardens that form part of the Citadel’s defences. They’ve miraculously escaped the attentions of Eadric and his occupying forces. And, as Thorn watches, several gardeners go about their business, tending the carefully laid-out walkways and plants.
‘Is she okay?’ Aiden demands.
‘I don’t think so,’ admits Thorn. ‘I’m far from okay and I’ve had a few days to get used to the fact that I’m leaving.’
‘So did you tell her anything?’
‘As much as I could, which isn’t much. I can’t . . .’ He gestures helplessly. ‘The words won’t come. I tried, believe me.’
‘Sucks to be you,’ Aiden says without any irony and Thorn grins at him.
‘Wolf, someone will knock your teeth out one day.’
‘But it won’t be you,’ Aiden ripostes, but senses the prince’s heavy mood. ‘Why are you really here, Thorn?’
Thorn heads back into the room and pulls forward one of the chairs, slumping into it, his shoulders bowed.
‘I’m worried about her, Aiden. She’s never going to be safe, not after what she did on that damn island.’
‘She’s a tough girl. She has her family.’ Aiden pauses. ‘But that’s not why you’re wasting time here, charming as I am. Out with it: what’s going on?’
‘I am asking you to look out for her,’ Thorn says reluctantly, his expression pained. ‘I need to know you’re keeping an eye on her, for me, for her own good.’
‘She’s going to be okay, Thorn.’
Thorn’s expression is grave. ‘It’s just . . . I have this feeling I just can’t shake – it tells me she’s in danger and the harder I try and figure it out, the more it slips away.’
‘Are you saying you . . .’ Aiden clears his throat and gestures. ‘That is, the you that’s now going to be a “Guardian”, as your dad put it, is seeing this?’
‘There’s only me, Aiden,’ Thorn said tightly, ‘I’m not two people. But, yes, this new role I’m being forced into is making me more aware of the potential danger Kit’s in.’
Aiden assesses the Fae prince for a moment.
‘I count Kit as a friend. I respect her abilities and think she’s made of tough stuff, but I’ll do what you ask, Thorn. I’ll look out for her.’
‘Thank you.’ Thorn gets up to leave. He pauses, then holds out his hand. ‘You’re a good friend.’
Aiden grips his hand firmly. ‘You’re not too bad. For a faerie,’ he replies and unlocks the door, a grin on his face. Thorn looks exasperated but a smile creeps onto his face as he stalks back down the passage.
The Citadel, Alba
Aelfric, High King of Alba, crept through his own palace like a thief in the night. He knew the passages so well that he required no light to guide his way. He descended further into the bowels of the Citadel, a shadow within shadows. He moved with a swift assurance those of his close acquaintance would be surprised to see; gone were the slow steady movements he cultivated when among his Court. This was the real Aelfric, swift, tireless, determined, ruthless.
He walked past a dozing guard to the entrance of the dungeons and was satisfied to see that the flask of wine he had sent had been shared by the team on the watch. He strolled past, hooded and cloaked, down the passages and past the cells that usually held the occasional thief or illegal griffin hunter but were now full to brimming with traitors and conspirators.
He found Eadric’s cell, the last cell at the end of the passage at the very heart of the dungeon. It was dark here and damp and cold enough for his breath to fog in front of him. He drew his cloak closer and hesitated for a moment only, before placing his hand on the door to the cell. It swung open soundlessly, reacting to his light magical touch.
A bundle of rags lay on the pallet and made no movement to indicate that it knew someone had opened the door. Aelfric was not fooled. He knew his brother was awake: he could tell by the silence in the room, the way the younger man held his breath. Even in the darkness he could smell the stench of Eadric’s flesh rotting where the iron circled his wrists and throat, effectively silencing and curbing any latent magics he had.
‘You always tried to reach for things that did not belong to you,’ Aelfric said, pulling up a small tripod stool and settling himself down. ‘Father always knew that you would try something as stupid as this.’
Eadric shifted himself upright, careful not to lean back against the rough stone wall behind him. ‘You really are our father’s son, Aelfric. Too stubborn to see what’s happening in your own kingdom.’
‘I see everything. I know everything, Eadric.’
‘Yet it would seem that my rebellion took you by surprise.’ The man could not keep the satisfaction from his voice.
‘Hardly.’ Aelfric shook his head. ‘I let you play out your little game of insurrection. Did it feel good, while it lasted? Did you enjoy playing the puppet-king to mad Istvan and his foul sister?’
‘You knew.’ Eadric’s voice was hoarse with shock. ‘You knew what I was planning and you let it happen.’
‘It was a way to consolidate my kingdom and form alliances, Eadric. I now know who I can trust and who I can’t. I’ve had my suspicions for a long time about several of our generals and nobles. Watching you working on them was a very interesting exercise, I have to admit. You revealed a great many flaws in our defences. I should really thank you, dear brother.’
‘You let your own sons be captured.’
Aelfric shrugged. ‘I have many sons, but I knew you would not harm Thorn. Not when I discovered he was so key to your plans. It took me some time to find the prophecies you took such care to hide. But look how it turned out, Eadric. You woke the voice of the dragon. You brought to light both the prophecy foretelling a guardian for our realm and revealed the guardian himself.’ He laughed at the irony. ‘Nothing I could have d
one would have set things up as perfectly. Again, I really should thank you, brother. You have strengthened the House of Alba’s rule in a fit of childish jealousy. With the Otherwhere acknowledging Thorn’s guardianship, Alba’s practically been given the golden key to every kingdom across the Otherwhere. Imagine it, Eadric. Alba’s name will once again be on the lips of all the worlds.’
‘Dina will destroy you if she ever finds out about any of this.’
‘My lady wife is content. She has her grandchildren and her causes to keep her occupied. There is much we have to do to rebuild after the destruction you and your underlings created. It will keep everyone busy for some time.’ Aelfric stood. ‘Know that I will order your execution within the next few days. I have not come to gloat, but to ask you if there is anyone you would like me to send for, to attend you? A son, perhaps? Anyone?’
Eadric peered into the shadows behind Aelfric and smiled a ghostly smile.
‘You will never find him, Aelfric. I won’t make it this easy for you.’
The only response was the sound of the cell door closing behind the high king.
Chapter Fifty-One
The night is so late that even bad things have crawled back into their dens, leaving only the stars and a whisper of moon to keep watch over the graveyard.
I climb the fence like a pro and refuse to pay attention to the slight ache in my leg as I set off down the slope towards my nan’s grave. It’s peaceful here and I draw a deep breath. The scent of night-blooming jasmine fills the air and I’m reminded of sitting out late on the deck with my nan in our last home and smelling it on the air. We speculated where the plants were but couldn’t ever find them.
But now she knows, I’m pretty sure, that this graveyard was the one place we never thought to look. Silly us.
I find her grave without trouble, knowing I could navigate my way to it with my eyes closed, and grab my usual spot just in front of it. I lay the tulips I bought her next to me.
‘Nan,’ I say. ‘This world sucks.’
Sadness wells up inside me but more than anything I don’t want to cry. I’m made of stronger stuff than this, I tell myself. I hate this feeling of being lost and hopeless. Megan tried to pull me out of my slump by dragging me around Paris in a ridiculous shopping spree for clothes, as practically everything we owned had disappeared with Blackhart Manor. We ended up at a nightclub and got involved in a fight between a bunch of Seelie and Unseelie Fae, all trying to be Beyoncé.
It was insane and amusing for a few minutes. But, as we staggered towards the Seine, after the bouncer threw us out right alongside the Fae, I became uncomfortably aware of them knowing my identity.
Their joking faded and their glamour seeped away, revealing their true faces. The Seelie group apologized for disturbing us on our night out and the Unseelie bunch tried to convince us to continue partying with them. But their eyes were just a bit too wild and feral and their enticements became too sharp, until they started freaking even Megan out.
We flew back to London the next day and Megan hired a car to drive down to Devon. Here, Jamie has a team of architects and builders working on a new Blackhart Manor. But I opted to visit Aiden and his family for a bit before driving back down to visit my nan. I needed just to hang out with her a bit.
‘You do know most people think graveyards are creepy?’ The voice comes from my right. ‘Especially at night.’
I relax the grip on my blade and smile up at my uncle Jamie as he walks towards me from the shadows.
‘You almost got a knife in your eye,’ I tell him.
‘I saw. Very impressive.’ He nods. ‘Like a ninja.’ He sits down next to me on the road, stretching his long legs out in front of him. ‘So? Is this going to be a thing now? Each time you finish a case you run here?’
I slant him a wry look. ‘What if it is?’
‘Just checking, so I know where to find you.’
‘I have questions. About me and Nan. Did you know about us?’ I ask him. ‘Be honest.’
He lights a cigarette and inhales deeply. ‘This stuff’s going to kill me one day,’ he says, blowing at the lit ember. ‘And yes, I knew where you were. I helped her run with you. I understood what she was doing. If I had kids of my own I’m not sure I’d want them to be part of this life.’
‘Wow,’ I breathe. ‘That’s pretty harsh.’
He smiles at me, but there’s no real humour behind it. ‘Not really. Your parents were the same. They were working one more case, and had wanted out after you came along. Andrew was happy for them to walk away, to stop working for the family. But your dad had worked for the Spook Squad previously; he wanted to go back, and your mum was thinking of joining him.’ He draws on the cigarette. ‘Of course that pissed the family off no end.’
‘I had no idea.’ And I really meant that. I had no idea about any of it – my mum wanting to leave the family cause behind, my dad working for the government.
‘Oh yeah. There was a blazing row about it. The whole family: all the aunts and uncles and cousins. It was war, I tell you. But a civilized one. Votes were taken, things were discussed, there was some shouting, but mostly lots of talking. Eventually it was decided that your mum could assist your father in his role but she couldn’t join him as a Spook. The family wouldn’t stand for it.’
‘And then the accident happened?’
‘Yeah, just before your first birthday.’ He shifts next to me and digs something out of his pocket. ‘Here, I thought you’d like this. I found it while I was clearing out my wardrobe at home. I actually meant to give it to you the last time I saw you but I forgot. I thought it would suit you.’
I hold my hand out and he drops something into my palm. I close my fingers around it. It feels like a pendant.
‘Your mum gave me that after my first solo job. I thought you’d like it.’
‘Thanks.’ It’s too dark to see so I put it in my pocket and stand up. ‘It’s almost dawn,’ I say. ‘Want a lift?’
‘You don’t even know where I’m going.’
I shrug at him. ‘With no Manor to go back to and nowhere else really to stay apart from a hotel, I’m not really heading anywhere myself. Besides, I feel the need to keep busy.’
‘How about a trip to Windsor?’ Jamie says. ‘We’ve had reports in that the Wild Hunt’s been seen in the countryside and we’ve been asked to investigate.’
‘Sounds like fun,’ I say. ‘But I’m driving.’
‘Great, it means I can catch up on some sleep.’
We climb over the fence just as the sun breaks over the horizon. I point Lolita’s nose north-west and drive out of the small village just as the milkman rattles down the road on his float.
Banished
While writing her debut novel, Banished, Liz de Jager fostered her love of YA and genre fiction by developing the popular My Favourite Books review blog. This ran for seven years and enabled her to gain a unique insight into the publishing industry. She grew up in South Africa and now lives and works in the UK with her husband, Mark.
You can find out more about Liz here:
www.lizdejager.co.uk
Or follow her on Twitter:
@LizUK
Acknowledgements
A huge debt of gratitude to my best friend Sarah Bryars who has an overabundance of enthusiasm for Kit and who helped me make sense of this world I’ve created. With Sarah, the third aspect to our triptych is Sharon Jones who helped me with esoteric Merrily questions and found me research books that would make a vicar go pale. And high-fives to Jenni Nock who stood by the core characters and told me things would work out: you are wise!
A big thanks to Sue Hyams, Mo O’Hara and Paolo Romeo (all whom I met through SCBWI British Isles), for all those late nights at the Southbank and for pushing me to write Kit’s story. Where would I be without you all bossing me around?!
A huge debt of thanks goes to Juliet Mushens, my agent, who decided that she loved Kit’s voice enough to take a chance on me and worked so hard with
me to sell The Blackhart Legacy. An equal measure of thanks goes to Bella Pagan, my editor, who’s held my hand, kept me sane and explained the intricacies of ‘what’s next?’ in the publishing process.
There’s a swathe of other people to acknowledge, too; authors and fellow bloggers I’ve known through blogging and Twitter and who gave constant and great advice, specifically Zoe Marriott and Luisa Playa, amongst so many others. I truly get the impression that debut authors in genre have the opportunity to stand on the shoulders of giants; my deepest gratitude to those authors who keep playing it forward. A shout out, too, to Tanya Byrne and her circle of trust; a girl couldn’t ask for a more kick-ass advice-giver.
A huge thanks to my family in South Africa who were so excited when I told them about the book deal. You guys may all be very far away but I carry you in my heart every day. Thank you for believing and for being smug and saying: we told you so.
And last but not least, a huge thanks to Mark who started all of this in the middle of a bookshop with that damn question: what if? Your support means so much to me; I can’t express it in words. I hope the dedication at the front of the book goes some way towards that!
First published 2014 by Tor
This electronic edition published 2014 by Tor
an imprint of Pan Macmillan, a division of Macmillan Publishers Limited
Pan Macmillan, 20 New Wharf Road, London N1 9RR
Basingstoke and Oxford
Associated companies throughout the world
www.panmacmillan.com
ISBN 978-1-4472-4766-1
Copyright © Liz de Jager, 2014
The right of Liz de Jager to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.