Father’s grip on my fingers loosened.
“Who was the dark-haired woman in my memories?”
He sighed. “Lavena was a villager whose newborn was replaced by a bundle of twigs. She was a better mother to you than…”
I squeezed his hand, not needing to hear the rest of the sentence. We continued through the downward-sloping passageway in silence. I wouldn’t ask him why he’d withheld the truth. If I had listened to his warnings, we’d be boarding the ship to Caledonia now, both relieved at having left Bresail and its infestation of faeries. I was also keeping secrets, such as the reason why I could no longer touch iron.
“How did Drayce manage to tell you about the queen? She placed a geas on everybody to tie their tongues on the subject.”
“There was a pool that showed me a vision of you pulling her from the mist,” I replied. “Did you know about her plan to free the Fomorians?”
Father shuddered. “Yes. She was trying to create a daughter who possessed the Blood of Dana. When you were born with hair like mine, I finally convinced an ally to help me escape.”
I flicked a lock of orange hair out of my face. “What’s so special about the blood?”
“My tribe of druids came from Dana herself. That is why we had her hair.”
“The druids who sacrificed themselves to banish the Fomorians?”
“Yes.” He said this without inflection, but I supposed that after a millennium, the pain of their deaths would have faded. “Only the elders and those too young to participate in the ritual stayed behind.”
Curiosity burned in my chest, filled my lungs, and forced me to ask, “How do you know Drayce?”
“She brought him from the Otherworld when he was a small boy.” Father’s voice was thick with an emotion I didn’t want to acknowledge.
My stomach clenched around a pit of nausea. They had probably been prisoners together. Father kept for nourishment, and Drayce kept because he had a power she couldn’t steal or destroy.
Echoes of Drayce’s screams resounded in my ears. I dipped my head, staring into the stone floor. “He wanted to offer me to Queen Melusina to use as a vessel. I overheard him telling General Creach.”
“He’s the ally who helped me to escape with you. I can’t believe he would betray us.”
I couldn’t tell if Father was trying to convince me or himself.
“That Samhain night…” He paused. We both knew which one he was talking about. “The queen invaded the village, demanding our whereabouts. Drayce helped me to hide and twisted my magic into a glamor powerful enough to conceal me from any faerie. On that same night, in front of the Sluagh and all the Lords of her Shadow Courts, she cursed him with scales.”
A gasp caught in my throat. “Why did he help you?”
“He helped us. We both planned to bring you back when you were old and strong enough to take your rightful place on the throne.”
The dark, looming hallways closed in around us, and the temperature rose. I rubbed the back of my neck, breathing hard. Father was wrong. I hadn’t misheard that conversation in the wild rose bush. Knowing that Drayce had once wanted me to claim the throne was no consolation. By the time we had left the palace to retrieve the Sword of Tethra, he’d abandoned it to work with General Creach.
I bowed my head, trudging through the darkened passageway and through my thoughts. The slope took a sharp, downward turn, and we let go of each other’s hands and held the walls to stop from tumbling downward.
“But you changed your mind?” I asked.
“I could do nothing to help you in that age-ravaged body. It was wiser to flee. Without the Blood of Dana, the queen would have no means to free the Fomorians.”
“Why didn’t she use yours?”
“Mine was only strong enough to extract weaker monsters. She believed that the blood of our child would do better.”
Weaker monsters like the Keeper of All Things. Now I understood why Father hadn’t wanted to speak of what he had seen on that night. It must have been terrible to watch such slaughter knowing it would stop if only he surrendered.
“I’m sorry for letting them see me on that Samhain,” I murmured.
“I should have better explained to you the consequences of dabbling with the fae.”
He had warned me. Plenty of times, but I had listened to the advice of a friend and ended up standing in a mushroom ring on the worst possible night of the year for avoiding faeries.
“Did you book passage on a ship?” he asked.
“We have two hammocks on one going to Caledonia. The others were full.”
He nodded. “How many days have passed since we were brought here?”
“Seven,” I whispered.
“By the time we escape, the ships will have left.” He ran his fingers through his hair and sighed. “Bresail is a large enough island to hide in, and you are mature enough to understand the importance of not attracting attention to yourself.”
“What if we used my blood to create a gateway that led us to the dock?”
“Blood magic is unstable. There’s no way to control your destination.”
I pictured the last opening I had made with the sword, and of the water spilling through to the forest floor and shuddered. “I have the Book of Brigid and the Sword of Tethra.”
He stopped, eyes bulging, a smile flickering in the corner of his mouth. “You do? If you can create a well-lit chamber, I can use the book and your blood to create an opening into the mortal world.”
My heart skipped, and my fingers traced the top of my ear. Despite my new aversion to iron, their tips were still rounded. I could pass for human back in the mortal world. And by escaping this realm, I would both rescue Father and remove Queen Melusina’s means for releasing the Fomorians.
“Has she imprisoned any other druids?” I had to make sure she couldn’t produce any more daughters like me.
“The last one died a century ago. It is hard to withstand her… attentions.”
Without meaning to, my gaze moved to the streaks of blood on his neck and then to his wrists. Warm, slick nausea swirled up my gullet.
I shook off the revulsion and willed the palace to create a room large enough for us to perform a ritual. An archway formed in the wall, which opened into a cavern. An arched window opened, letting in warm sunlight. Father hurried through, and I followed, heart pounding, lungs trembling with breathless anticipation.
I pulled the leather-bound book from my waistband and handed it to Father. “Here.”
He bowed his head, flipping the pages until he found a diagram.
“What do I need to do?” I asked.
“Carve betwixt the collar and heart, incant the words of druidic art. Transport yourself with Tethra’s sword, the cost is that which must be poured.”
I unsheathed the sword. “I tried something like that with the blood from my thumb, and it opened a gateway underwater.”
His eyes twinkled. “You don’t know the words of the druidic art.”
“All right.” I pulled down the neck of my leather jerkin, made a tiny cut under my left collarbone, and held it there until I gathered a shilling-sized amount of blood.
Father placed his hand on my left shoulder and incanted words in a language I didn’t understand. The wound itched as it closed.
My gaze flickered to his sapphire eyes. “I didn’t know you could do that!”
“I have not had the strength to practice druidic arts in years,” his voice was breathy with an excitement I’d never heard from him. “Now, I will perform the incantation. When you hear me say ‘oscail’ slash the sword through the air.”
“Then what?” I asked.
His face split into the widest smile. “It will create an opening into Calafort.”
My heart clattered so hard, I was glad I wasn’t the one who needed to do the incantation. I nodded.
Father said the ancient words in a voice so deep and resonant, I thought he was channeling the gods themselves. His vivid, orange hai
r moved as though caressed by the wind. Pride swelled in my chest. I hadn’t ever remembered him being so magnificent.
When he said, ‘oscail,’ I slashed the Sword of Tethra through the air, and it tore a hole into another space.
Bright sunlight streamed through the tear, along with cold, salty wind. Sea air blew into my face, stinging my skin like tiny hornets. I winced and turned around, heart falling. This had to be another consequence of inhaling the Queen of the Banshees’ last breath.
“Well done, Neara!” Father closed the book and tucked it under his arm. With a smile as blinding as the sunlight, he stepped toward the rift and held out his hand. “Let’s go.”
I squinted in his direction, stomach twisting at the spray of saltwater. As much as I needed to escape, my legs wouldn’t move.
“What’s wrong?” his brow furrowed. “Hurry, child!”
Taking his hand, I gave him a shaky smile. We’d deal with the consequences of the new changes later. Father beamed and mouthed ‘I’m proud of you.’
We jumped into the rift, gripping each other tight. I squeezed my eyes shut, my stomach lurching with the fall and at the prospect of more saltwater. The descent was short, and when we landed, my feet hit stone identical to that of the chamber I had created from the castle.
Father drew in a breath through his teeth. “No…”
I lifted my head, only to find us in Queen Melusina’s throne room. She stood at the foot of the dais, flanked by four, high-ranking soldiers.
Her quick-silver eyes gleamed with delight. “Congratulations, daughter, on reaching your maturity. Now, it’s time to fulfill your destiny.”
Chapter 22
Every muscle in my body stiffened, and my saliva turned to ash. How had she found us, and more importantly, how had she diverted us from escaping the palace?
I scanned the throne room. Apart from the row of soldiers flanking Queen Melusina, it was empty, exposing the room’s gently carved stone walls and the floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the mist. A chill permeated my bones. From the orders she had given to her servants, I had thought she had sent her Generals out to the cursed territories to find Drayce and me. She must have scried our locations.
“Did I do well, Your Majesty?” asked a small voice.
Coleen, Drayce’s human servant, stepped out from behind the soldiers, defiance shining in her bruised face. She raised her head at an arrogant angle, and narrowed her eyes at me, as though proclaiming some kind of triumph.
A growl reverberated in my throat.
“She can shape the palace like you, can’t she?” asked Coleen.
My jaw clenched. Nostrils flared. There was no time to admonish myself for locking her in a cupboard instead of using the bone whip. Not when the generals, who I assumed were the heads of the queen’s Shadow Courts stood around her, leering at Father and me.
Queen Melusina ignored the human and spread her arms wide. “I must thank you, darling Neara, for bringing me closer to my dream than any of my other useless daughters.”
“You’re not getting my blood,” I said between clenched teeth.
“And I won’t make the incantation!” said Father.
Her grin widened, and she clicked her fingers. Double doors on the right of the room swung open, and a faerie identical to Father stepped inside. I hissed through clenched teeth.
Cúpla.
These were shapeshifters who stole their victims’ identities to commit crimes against their neighbors and family. They were indistinguishable from their victims, not just in appearance. The creatures also absorbed the victim’s skills and memories, making them perfect duplicates for the duration of their attacks.
Those prone to mischief would steal or cuckold their friends or brothers, and those prone to malevolence tended to slaughter families, leaving a single witness alive to ensure their victim’s punishment.
The cúpla taking on Father’s appearance bowed. “I can perform the incantation in Ailill’s stead, Your Majesty.”
Queen Melusina’s eyes gleamed. “Show me.”
He repeated, syllable-for-syllable, the ancient words Father had used to open the rift, even down to the word, ‘oscail.’
I flicked the edge of the blade, and a rift appeared in the ground. It stretched a foot and a half wide and sprayed droplets of seawater onto my leather breeches. My gaze flicked to Queen Melusina, who was too busy applauding the cúpla to notice.
Intertwining my fingers with Father’s, I pulled him toward the rift and whispered, “Let’s go.”
“I think not!” the queen flicked her wrist, pushing the rift several feet away. Then she twisted her other hand, thickening the air and securing Father and me in place with invisible bonds. “Nobody leaves without my permission.”
With the grace of a serpent, she slid across the stone floor, her hips swaying with each step. Something was wrong with her smile. It stretched wider than I’d seen on any human. I curled my lip. How could that grotesque creature be my mother?
She beckoned at the faerie who had stolen Father’s appearance. “Walk with me, Cúpla.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.” The creature scurried after her.
“Ever since darling Ailill pulled me out of my misty prison, I knew he would be the mortal to free my people and return the Fomorian magic to the living world.”
Father quaked beside me. Over the past thousand years, he’d probably experienced every kind of torture she could imagine. Despite the panic surging through my own veins, I squeezed his hand, offering him the remnants of my courage.
Queen Melusina stopped feet away from the enclosure of solid air that encased us. Her eyes gleamed like molten silver, and I was sure their pupils had become slitted.
“It’s the hair, you see.” She twirled a lock of the cúpla’s orange hair between her fingers. “That perfect shade of amber flames, like the sun burning across the horizon at Beltane. You’re descendants of the goddess Dana.”
“Let us go,” I pushed against the barrier of wind encasing us, but it wouldn’t budge.
Her grin widened as if she’d found my breach of captive etiquette amusing. “Oh, no. I’ve seen the potency of your blood with my own eyes. It will be enough to shatter the mist forever.”
“Release Father, then. You have a cúpla who will do anything you want.”
“Neara, no!” he cried.
Her eyes slid to Father. “A cúpla can mimic his appearance, abilities, but never his taste. Ailill will nourish me until time ends.”
My stomach heaved, and I gulped mouthfuls of air to remain calm. She leered at him like his fear and anguish were morsels for her enjoyment. It made me want to spit. A rush of fury powered my limbs, and I pushed through the air encasing us like it was an annoying wind.
“Don’t you realize what you’re doing?” I spat. “If you free the Fomorians, you’ll just be a lowly slave like everyone else. You forget that your mother was a faerie and you were born in captivity.”
“We’re not so different.” She lifted her chin. “You and I both love our fathers, and when I free mine and his court, he will elevate me to a place of honor.”
I clenched my fists and pushed against her wind. “If you love your father so much, I’ll send you back to the mist myself!”
Someone in the background coughed with laughter. Queen Melusina shot a filthy look in the direction of her generals, giving me the opening I needed. Gripping the Sword of Tethra with both hands, I swung the weapon forward, but she raised a finger, trapping its blade in the air.
“You should have taught our daughter better,” she said to Father. “Attacking her mother while her back is turned shows a lack of courtesy.”
I ground my teeth and pulled at the sword’s handle. “A monster like you doesn’t care about manners!”
Queen Melusina turned to me, eyes blazing like molten silver. “You call us monsters, yet you would condemn an entire race to the mist. It is a miserable, bleak prison, where the strong prey upon the weak and the only pastime is to
rture. A being must endure a thousand horrific deaths in that realm, never resting, forever returning to relive their torment.”
The Sword of Tethra felt as heavy as an anchor, but I continued pulling. “So, you’ll release them here and let the humans and faeries suffer the same?”
“It wasn’t so bad,” she replied.
“Perhaps not for you,” spat Father. “But I remember the time of the Fomorians. The suffering was so great, humans, faeries, and druids were eager to sacrifice their own lives to end King Balor’s tyranny.”
I gulped. Father was referring to that one-eyed giant in the vision. The first of the monsters who had slithered out of the mist.
Mutterings broke out from the soldiers at the walls. I gazed at their disgruntled faces, sending them a silent plea to switch sides. They would also be slaves if Queen Melusina freed the Fomorians. Why didn’t they join forces and overthrow her? So far, they’d sabotaged her efforts by handing her daughters to the Keeper of All Things or killing them if they survived. If they could all group together and attack her at once, Father and I would get a chance to escape.
She raised her shoulder in a delicate shrug. “Pretty words for someone whose safety by my side is guaranteed.”
My hackles rose. I wanted to claw and spit at the wretch. How dare she speak of Father’s torture and imprisonment like it was a gift! Blood still remained on the blade. If I could get her to loosen the wind restricting the sword, I could ram it into her stomach and destroy her as I did the Queen of the Banshees.
Teeth bared, I snarled, “You need my blood to free the Fomorians. If you want it, come here and get it yourself!”
Just as I crouched into a fighting stance, an arrow shot past my neck. I gasped. If I hadn’t moved, it would have lodged into my heart.
The queen’s eyes widened. She whirled around, addressing the soldiers at the wall. “Who dares to touch my daughter?”
One by one, the soldiers unsheathed their weapons. But they were looking at me, not her! My heart stuttered. “What are you doing? Kill the queen!”
“Silence.” She raised both hands, and the air slammed every one of them into the wall, including the cúpla and that human servant, Coleen.
Curse of the Fae King (Dark Faerie Court Book 1) Page 20