Queen of Wands (The Tree of Ages Series Book 4)

by Sara C. Roethle

  “What else did you see?” he pressed.

  She glanced at him again, then turned her gaze away. “I saw your ancestors. The souls I stole . . . I trapped them there. I swear I had no idea. Either I never knew where they went, or the memory was left out when the others returned.”

  The tension in his shoulders eased at her admission. “I had suspected as much. They had to be trapped somewhere. The in-between is a logical choice.”

  “You’re not angry?” she asked hopefully, her gaze still forward.

  “We’ve discussed this,” he replied, perplexed.

  He felt her deep sigh against his chest. Her head turned slightly his way. “I was worried that if you knew I saw them, you’d be angry I left them there. I would have freed them had I known how, but they disappeared before I could even attempt to speak with them.”

  “I am not angry,” he replied, still unsure of her attitude. It seemed she was no longer upset with him . . .

  “Anders also claimed Àed is no longer a tree,” she continued, changing the subject, “or perhaps he never was. He claimed to have seen him in a dungeon, locked away within one of Keiren’s fortresses. I was thinking I’d go back to the in-between to meet with her on my terms. I don’t know any other way to find her, or her fortress.”

  Go back? After he’d stood idly by, waiting so long for her to awaken, not knowing if she ever would, she wanted to go back?

  “We’ll need to find Anna for that though, I’m afraid,” she continued. “She took me there once before, and I find her help preferable to that of the Ceàrdaman. Still—”

  “You will not go back,” he interrupted.

  She whipped her head around to look at him with her jaw slightly agape.

  He sealed his mouth shut. It was not his place to tell her what to do, but . . .

  Her eyes narrowed. “I will go back if I so choose. If it is the quickest way to find Keiren and save Àed, I will do it, and Anna will help me.”

  He clenched his jaw. “If that is the case, then I will prevent further contact with Anna.”

  Her eyes went wide with shock as her face slowly turned red. Before he could stop her, she threw her leg over the saddle and slid down from their mount.

  Seconds later, he was on the ground beside her, grabbing her arm before she could whirl away.

  She glared daggers at him. “I thought you said you were on my side!” she hissed. “That where I go, you will follow!”

  “Not when you’re needlessly risking your life,” he replied evenly.

  She tugged her arm out of his grip. “You cannot do that! You cannot tell me that you do not care, that you will simply fulfill your duty to me, only to turn around and order me about!”

  He sighed. This was going nowhere. He needed to find a way to get her back on the unicorn and further away from the Dearg Due. She was panting in rage, glaring at him.

  He stepped forward and grabbed her before she could step away, pulling her into his arms, their faces just a few fingers apart. He could probably throw her back into the saddle now that he had her, but . . .

  He leaned his head down slowly, a little closer to her face. Her expression softened, and her rage seemed to leak away. His mouth came down nearer to hers, almost touching. “I will follow you to the ends of the earth,” he whispered, “but I will not allow you to sacrifice yourself for someone else. Not even for me.”

  She went utterly still, staring up at him.

  He stopped short. What was he doing? He pulled away, shaking his head.

  Finn’s face reddened, her ire returning. She huffed, then marched back to the waiting unicorn. Not sparing Iseult a single glance, she climbed up in the saddle, then crossed her arms and waited.

  He sighed, then climbed up behind her.

  Her back was utterly stiff like before. It seemed he would be getting the silent treatment—again.

  Anna stared down at the running water from her perch behind Eywen in the saddle. He was tall enough that he blocked most of her view looking forward, unless she leaned to the side. She was content with the view of the water though. Eywen had explained that the Dearg Due would not cross it, and she very much wanted to avoid being bitten again once night fell.

  “Someone else recently rode through here,” Eywen commented. “Perhaps some of my men, or yours.”

  She shivered. “Do the Dearg Due ride horses?”

  He chuckled. “No, they are faster on foot.”

  She shivered again, in some ways glad she was unconscious for the attack. “What will you do if we cannot find the rest of your men, the ones who survived?”

  “If any survived,” he replied, “my goals remain the same. I will be less useful to Finnur without my regiment, but I must still attempt to save my people, especially those still under Oighear’s thrall.”

  Anna bit her lip, feeling almost bad for her previous thoughts of the Aos Sí, and Eywen in particular. She still found him strange and terrifying, but he seemed to have more honor than most humans she knew, especially herself.

  “And what will you do?” he questioned. “If we do not find your companions, I mean.”

  “You said you could track Finn,” she replied, “and if we’re close enough, I can track her myself.”

  “And would you remain by her side if the rest are gone?” he questioned.

  She glared at the back of his head. “They’re not gone. Kai, at the very least, is a survivor, and I will not abandon him.”

  “Why?” Eywen questioned.

  She pursed her lips, her negative thoughts about the Aos Sí fast returning. “He’s my best friend, if you must know. Perhaps my only friend. He would do just as much for me as I would for him. It’s a mutual understanding between us.”

  “He seems like more than a friend,” he continued.

  She wished she could see his face to tell if he was joking. Was he honestly asking if she and Kai were . . . involved? “I’m not interested in men in that way,” she grumbled.

  “Never?” Eywen questioned.

  Anna balled her hands into fists. It wasn’t like she hadn’t endured these questions before, but now they came from such an unexpected source. Someone she never thought she’d have to explain herself to.

  “Not for a very long time,” she grumbled. “And never again.”

  “Hmph,” he replied, then a few seconds later asked, “Do you care to explain why?”

  “Do you care to explain why you ask so many questions?” she snapped.

  He gestured to the surrounding woods. “We have a long ride ahead of us, and we may very well be alone for most of it. You are my only option for conversation.”

  She slumped in her seat. “Well then perhaps we should continue on in silence.”

  Eywen’s shoulders lifted and fell as he sighed. “I apologize. I seem to have offended you. It was not my intent.”

  Anna frowned, wishing she could see right through those spider silk tresses into his mind. “It’s alright,” she conceded. “I’m just worried. I didn’t mean to take it out on you.”

  She was about to say more when a distant light caught her gaze. “There’s something ahead,” she hissed. “Something . . . magical.”

  He drew their horse to an abrupt halt. “What do you sense?” he whispered.

  She peered harder, but her magical sight only went so far. She could tell when magic was near, but not if it was benevolent. “I don’t know,” she muttered. “It doesn’t seem terribly strong, not as bright as Finn.”

  “Wait here,” he commanded, then slid down from the horse.

  “Eywen!” she hissed, but he was already walking away, his hand on the pommel of his sword. Soon he disappeared into the trees.

  Nervous, she peered up through the overhead branches. The sun could no longer be seen, though a small amount of its light remained. Did the Dearg Due have to wait for full night to surface?

  Cursing to herself, she scooted forward and grasped the reins Eywen had looped around the saddle grip. If he left her alone
in this gods-forsaken forest, she would hunt him down and kill him twice.

  The clang of metal cut through the eerie silence. Then again and again. He was fighting someone with a sword. Had he known who waited for him in the trees, or had he been caught by surprise?

  Shit. She hurried to dismount, then quickly secured their horse to a tree. As the clangs of metal continued, echoed by grunts of exertion, she crept forward, twin daggers drawn. There was a thud and someone groaned. Shit. Shit. Shit. She raced forward toward the sounds of struggle, entering a small clearing.

  Eywen fought with a black haired Aos Sí while another lay dying at their feet.

  Her grip on her daggers tightened as her gaze darted back and forth, unsure of what to do. Why was he fighting his own people? She gasped as he drove his blade through the gap in the other Aos Sí’s armor, driving it up through his side to the hilt. He pulled the blade out in a splash of blood, and the dead Aos Sí fell beside the first.

  Anna stood there, dumbfounded.

  Eywen glanced back at her, hurt clear in his eyes. He knelt beside his fallen comrades and bowed his head.

  What on earth was going on? She began to back away.

  “We have no time to perform the proper rites,” Eywen muttered, stopping her. He stood from his bow, bloody sword still in hand.

  Anna gulped, then realized she was still holding her daggers in front of her, ready for a fight.

  Eywen stalked toward her. He looked her up and down, then breezed past her back toward the stream.

  She took one last look at the fresh corpses, then hurried after him.

  When she found him again, he was kneeling by the stream, cleaning the blood from his clothes and skin. He’d removed his shirt to dunk it into the water, revealing a large gash across his back, seeping blood.

  She hesitated, not sure if she should finish her approach.

  Pausing his motions, Eywen glanced back at her.

  “You killed your own men,” she muttered.

  He turned back to the stream. “They were Oighear’s men. They would have killed me first. I have betrayed my queen.”

  She took a step forward. “They were hunting you?”

  He scoffed. “It’s likely. Though I’m surprised they came so far.”

  She closed the distance between them, stopping to stand at his back. She was more frightened of him now than ever, but there had been such pain in his eyes. She took one more step forward, then knelt. “You’re wounded.”

  He turned and raised an eyebrow at her. “No more questions about me killing my own men?”

  She sighed. “You’re not the only one who has killed to survive.” She took his sopping wet shirt from his hand and rung it out, then began dabbing at his back wound.

  If it hurt, he didn’t show it. “For someone who fears the Faie,” he began, “you seem rather comfortable touching one.”

  She paused her dabbing, took a deep breath, then resumed. “You bandaged my wounds. The least I can do is bandage yours.”

  His snow white skin seemed even more unusual against his crimson blood, soaking into the shirt with each dab.

  “The wound is too deep,” she observed, feeling a bit sick, “We need to stop the bleeding.”

  She moved her gaze to see him smiling at her. “It will be fine. Fetch some bandages from my horse. We must move on.”

  She narrowed her eyes in speculation, but nodded. She really didn’t want to be around when more Aos Sí showed up, especially now that Eywen’s wound might hamper his fighting. She stood and rushed to the horse, pawed through the saddlebags, then returned with fresh bandages and a fresh, burgundy shirt.

  Eywen remained kneeling beside the stream while she bandaged his wound as best she could, anchoring it with a strip of cloth over one shoulder, and under the opposite armpit. He kept his head turned, watching her the entire time, never flinching as she touched his wound.

  She tried to ignore him, but as she finished he caught her gaze. She’d leaned in too close, absorbed in her work, and now his strange eyes were only a few fingers away.

  She gulped.

  “My thanks,” he whispered.

  “Um, yes,” she nodded, then quickly stood and stumbled away. Wanting to cover her stumble, she hurried back toward the horse, untied its reins, and climbed on.

  With a small smile on his lips, Eywen stood, donning the long-sleeved shirt she’d left him on the bank. He left the wet, bloody one where it lay, then approached. She scooted back as he climbed up in the saddle in front of her with amazing dexterity.

  She let out a sigh of relief as they started moving, glad Eywen’s back was to her so he couldn’t see her furious blush.

  She hadn’t blushed so hard in years.

  The cold had entirely permeated Kai’s bones by the time night fell. The Dearg Due had seemed to rest off and on throughout the day. Perhaps as they slept, he could have escaped the cave, but weakness pervaded his body, making it difficult to move. The fire had eventually died, so that when night came, he was left in utter darkness. The pure black in front of his eyes made him question if he was even still alive at all.

  “It is time,” the Dearg Due’s voice hissed, alarmingly close.

  Hands wrapped around his arms, pulling him to his feet. He felt suddenly sick, and proceeded to retch up the meager portion of food in his stomach while the Dearg Due held him partially aloft.

  “The Dair is weak,” she growled.

  He tried to laugh, but it came out as more of a groan. He hoped he’d at least managed to get some of his vomit on her. One of her hands fell away, but she was strong enough to keep him standing with just one.

  A sharp and metallic odor hit his nostrils just before something soft and wet hit his lips. He sputtered and stumbled backwards, but the Dearg Due’s iron grip kept him from going too far. She pulled him back to her and the touch came again on his lips, more forceful this time, and he tasted blood. He realized in horror that she’d bloodied her wrist and was trying to make him drink from it.

  He lifted his free arm to push her away, but she wouldn’t budge. “I don’t drink blood like you!” he mumbled through mostly sealed lips.

  “The blood will heal,” she purred. “You are weak for one of the Dair. Perhaps a half blood.”

  “Yes,” he agreed, still pushing her wrist away in the darkness. “Just a half blood, you may as well let me go.”

  Kai heard a hiss of fabric as he was whipped onto his back, his head cradled in the Dearg Due’s lap. With one hand she forced his mouth open, then blood dripped onto his tongue. He coughed and sputtered, trying to shut his mouth, but in his infirm state, she was no match against her inhuman grip.

  “Drink,” she demanded. “Half Dair not so big a prize, but dead you’re worth nothing.”

  Blood poured down his throat to the point where he felt like he was drowning. He reflexively swallowed, then coughed the excess blood out to dribble down the sides of his chin. Hot bile swelled up into his throat. He was going to be sick.

  Seeming to sense his intent, the Dearg Due suddenly let go, letting his head hit the hard stone. He rolled onto his side and dry heaved, but had little left in his stomach to vomit.

  Just as his breathing began to calm, his stomach convulsed violently. “What have you done to me!” he gasped, clawing at the stone beneath him.

  “Healed you,” she hissed. Her voice was distant, like she had retreated to the far end of the cave. “Weak Dair,” she said again, her voice suddenly closer. “My sisters will be here soon and we will depart.”

  Sisters? He pushed off his shoulder into a seated position, then nearly fell over. He felt like fire was running through his veins, and now his hopes had been crushed. He’d thought perhaps the other Dearg Due had been killed off by the Aos Sí. Had they instead been hunting his companions?

  He shook his head, somewhat coming to his senses though his stomach still threatened to rebel. No, the other Dearg Due would have been trapped in caves or other hidey holes all day just like his ca
ptor. They wouldn’t have had time to hunt the others.

  He flinched at another hiss of fabric seconds before she grabbed him, hauling him back to his feet. She half carried, half dragged him across the stone ground toward the smell of fresh night air. Soon enough they emerged into the starry night, but Kai could hardly notice the stars. Surrounding them were dozens of pairs of reflective eyes.

  How in the blazes was he supposed to escape now?

  Chapter Twelve

  Finn and Iseult had ridden on well into the night, spotting no sign of their other companions, nor the Dearg Due. After hearing a full recount of the battle, Finn now understood why Iseult was wary of remaining in one place too long. Eywen’s army of twenty Aos Sí lingered on her mind.

  She bit her lip in worry. Could the Dearg Due really have eliminated so many mighty warriors? No, that couldn’t be possible. The Aos Sí seemed almost immortal with their combat skills and grace. Surely they had protected Kai and the others. Even now, they might all be searching for her.

  She glanced over her shoulder at Iseult, using Loinnir’s gentle sway to disguise the motion. His cool gaze watched the surrounding darkness, flicking from tree to tree.

  She turned back around before he could notice her. Even after he’d detailed the battle to her, and the dangers yet lurking, she couldn’t entirely release her ire for his insistence they move on without their companions. She wanted to look for her friends, no matter the consequences.

  The silence between them carried on and on. She didn’t want to be the one to break it, in some way proving him the winner, but . . . “Perhaps we should rest soon. I’m sure Loinnir is tired from carrying us all of this way.”

  Iseult wordlessly slipped the reins into Finn’s hands, slipped his left leg behind her back, then dropped to the ground behind her with the unicorn still moving.

  Finn turned to see him land with bent knees, absorbing the impact of the jump. Loinnir halted, and Iseult stood staring at Finn, almost impatiently, seeming riled.

  Finn sighed, then climbed down from the saddle. Iseult approached and unstrapped their only bedroll. He took a few steps away and unfurled it onto the ground, then turned to Finn expectantly.