by Chant, Zoe
“He is unharmed, if displeased.” Cuan extricated his wrist from Angus’s jaws—not without difficulty—and handed him back to Tamsin. “I fear this has not done anything to increase his fondness for me, alas.”
“Bad dog!” Tamsin scolded her pet. She looked up at Aodhan. “I’m so sorry. He’s normally very well behaved around animals, but he’s, uh, not met many unicorns.”
Aodhan turned his outraged glare on Tamsin. “I beg your pardon?”
“Winged unicorns!” Tamsin yelped. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to be offensive. This is all new to me too.”
Aodhan sniffed, his bristling feathers settling a little. In a flash of light, he shifted into his man form, revealing a deeply disgruntled expression.
“Twice in two days,” he said, scowling down at his own hands. “Twice. If I’d wanted to prance about in the body I was born with, I wouldn’t have spent two decades learning how to shapeshift.”
“My deepest apologies.” Cuan gave Aodhan a respectful bow, despite the protests of his abused muscles. “I would not intrude on your privacy lightly.”
Aodhan folded his arms. “Good. Go away.”
“I would if I could, but we have great need of your wisdom.” Cuan caught Tamsin’s eye, arcing a brow. “At least, I assume that was your intent in demanding that we come here?”
She nodded, Angus clamped in her arms. “I need to talk to you and Aodhan, and I couldn’t risk this getting back to Maeve. She let something slip during the feast.” She beamed, excitement shining in her eyes. “There is a way to break the tithe-curse.”
Her words sliced through him like an axe-blade, cleaving his heart in two. He hadn’t realized, until that moment, just how much he’d been counting on there not being a way for her to leave the fae realm.
To leave him.
In the breath-stealing pain of that moment, he couldn’t conceal that shameful reaction. He knew that Tamsin had seen it, as clearly as if his dishonor had been branded on his forehead. All the eager joy fled her face.
“I thought you’d be happy for me,” she said in a small voice. “Aren’t you?”
He should be happy for her. He wanted to be happy for her.
But he was high sidhe. He couldn’t lie. He couldn’t even speak, pain like a fist around his throat.
“He can’t be,” Motley said, matter-of-fact. He’d reverted to man form, watching the scene with head cocked, as though it was all a play put on for his entertainment. “Not yet. But I am. This isn’t your place. You don’t fit here. You need to go home.”
“If this means you’ll all stop pestering me, then I’m also overjoyed,” Aodhan said dryly. “Please, enlighten me as to how I can speed your departure.”
Tamsin didn’t say anything. She was still watching Cuan, eying him as though he’d suddenly become a stranger.
He wanted to reassure her—to tell her that he would help her, no matter the personal cost—but all words had fled. His chest felt hollow, empty. It was as though she was already gone, taking his heart with her, back to her own world.
Tamsin bit her lip. Then she drew in her breath, setting her shoulders as though she’d come to a decision. “Maeve didn’t say much. But she implied that the curse could be broken by someone in the human realm. She made it sound like someone could rescue me, somehow. She taunted me about it, saying that I didn’t have anyone who would care enough about me to even try.”
Aodhan was still scowling, but a spark of scholarly interest brightened his blue eyes. “Now that I think of it, I have read a few tales about humans being rescued from our realm by loved ones. A devoted lover or faithful sister, generally. It’s all dressed up in ridiculous nonsense, of course—impossible challenges and ludicrously unrealistic shapeshifting and all that sort of poetic rot.”
“We humans have a story like that,” Tamsin said. “About a woman who has to hold fast to her lover while the Queen of the Faeries turns him into all kinds of horrible beasts.”
Aodhan snorted. “As though even the greatest mage could shapeshift an ordinary human that easily. The girl would most likely be left hugging a pile of inside-out organs by the third transformation, in my professional opinion.”
“But you have no lover.” His voice came out as harsh as a raven’s caw. Cuan cleared his throat, swallowing the razor-blades of anguish. “No human lover, that is. Even if there is a kernel of truth behind these tales, how does that help? Or do you have some secret beloved of whom the Lady Maeve is unaware?”
His chest contracted again, though this time with jealousy. He fought to keep the emotion from showing on his face, but he couldn’t help his fist clenching.
From the way Tamsin’s eyes flicked downward, she’d noticed. Her expression hardened further, her mouth setting in a flat, guarded line.
“No, I don’t.” Her tone could have chilled a fire elemental. “Not that it’s any of your business.”
Cuan was not proud of himself. Yet he couldn’t deny that his taut shoulders eased at Tamsin’s words. It wasn’t that he wanted her to be trapped in his world against her will…but his very soul cried out at the thought of her leaving.
I truly am a beast, he thought bleakly, riven with self-loathing.
Aodhan let out an irritated sigh. “Then this is all a waste of time. Accept the fact that you’re stuck here, human, and let us all get on with our lives.”
“I can’t give up. Not yet.” Tamsin caught her lower lip between her teeth for a moment as though debating something with herself, then rushed on, “Look, maybe it doesn’t have to be a lover. Maybe someone else could help. There have to be some humans who know about your world, right? There was the guy who pushed me down the portal, at the very least.”
“He sacrificed you in return for a gift from the fae,” Cuan pointed out. “I very much doubt such a person would wish to undo that bargain.”
“No, but maybe he’s got enemies,” Tamsin said. “I mean, I know that people aren’t disappearing from Little Ashton on a regular basis. Do you think someone could have been guarding the stone circle?”
“The Wild Hunt,” Aodhan and Motley said in unison, instantly.
“The Wild Hunt?” Tamsin looked between them, animation coming back into her face. “What’s that?”
“Renegades and traitors,” Cuan said harshly, not wanting her to get her hopes up only to have them cruelly dashed. “Fae outcast from our lands, and the distant descendants of fae who refused to leave your world when the rest of us withdrew. Now they patrol the borders of the realms with their hounds, ensuring that none cross in either direction.”
Tamsin frowned. “But Motley went back to Fair Hill to get Angus for me, and no one stopped him.”
Motley’s chest puffed out. “Too fast. Too clever. In and out and gone.”
“And it was only sheer blind luck that you are not gone.” Fear for his friend sharpened Cuan’s tone yet further. His blood still ran cold whenever he thought of the risk Motley had taken. “I have told you, over and over, never to portal to the human world. The hellhounds of the Wild Hunt can scent fae magic, and they have ways of intercepting even you. I know you only went to Tamsin’s world to rescue Angus, and that was indeed a true and noble deed…but you cannot put yourself in danger like that again, Motley. Not for any reason. Promise me you will not.”
Motley looked mulish, but dipped his chin in a grudging nod.
Tamsin was chewing on her lip again. “I don’t want Motley to get hurt, of course, but is the Wild Hunt really that dangerous?”
“They are,” Cuan said firmly. “And the loathing between the unseelie and the Hunt is even deeper than that between us and the seelie. If there was the slightest chance of hope of aid from the Wild Hunt, Tamsin, I would take the risk of going to them myself. But there is not. I beg you, do not ask Motley to travel to your world again.”
From the quick, guilty glance Tamsin cast the raven shifter, she had indeed been contemplating exactly that. To Cuan’s relief, though, she seemed shaken.
&nb
sp; “I do not mean for you to abandon all hope,” Cuan said, more gently. He turned to Aodhan. “You said that you had books containing tales of former tithes?”
“I have books about everything,” Aodhan replied. “That being the entire point of a library. I suppose your next question will be whether I’ll allow you to read them.”
That was, in Cuan’s opinion, the other main purpose of a library, but he held his tongue. Aodhan had a certain proprietary attitude to the books under his care. Cuan had known griffins who guarded their nests of gold with less fervor.
He bowed his head toward the alicorn in a gesture of respect. “I would consider it a very great favor, to be repaid in any manner of your choosing.”
“Much good that will do me when you’re likely to be dead before the next dawn.” Aodhan heaved a resigned sigh. “But I suppose if I say ‘no’, you’ll all just loiter around cluttering up my woods even longer. Fine. You can come in.”
“Er…” Tamsin cast a dubious glance around the sunlit—and apparently empty—meadow. “Come in where?”
A slight, smug smile tugged at Aodhan’s lips. He turned away, and—with what Cuan suspected was a totally unnecessary flourish—snapped his fingers.
Tamsin’s jaw dropped open as shadow engulfed them all. She craned her neck back, staring up at the towering oak that had appeared, its spreading branches blocking out the sun. Windows glinted amidst the thick folds of bark, while elegant towers thrust out through the topmost canopy.
“Shut up,” Tamsin exclaimed. “You live in a giant magic tree?”
“No.” Aodhan rolled his eyes, as though this should have been obvious. “I live in a carefully architected seven-dimensional fold within three-dimensional space, anchored by a complex biological system powered by a variety of natural and mystic energies.”
They all blinked at him.
Aodhan let out another exasperated sigh. “Yes, human. I live in a giant magic tree. Now close your mouth before a nighthaunt flies in.” He headed for a door nestled between two mammoth tree roots. “Leave your orange thing outside.”
Tamsin’s mouth closed with a snap, though her eyes were still round as full moons. “Uh, actually I think I’d better stay out here with Angus.”
A twinge of unease ran down Cuan’s spine. “The area around Aodhan’s oak is protected by wards, but I still do not like to leave you alone and unguarded.”
“I won’t be alone. Motley can keep me company.” She jerked her chin at the departing Aodhan. “Look, I wouldn’t be much use in a magic faerie library anyway. You go. See if you can find out anything useful.”
“Research is not my strongest point,” he admitted. “My role is likely to be limited to bracing ladders and carrying stacks of books. But I will endeavor to cajole Aodhan into turning his mind to solving your problem.”
He hesitated, wanting to say more. To do more. She seemed so brave and alone, standing there in the shadow of the great tree. It struck him as uncomfortably similar to how she had looked in the midst of Maeve’s court, when he’d first set eyes on her.
“Tamsin.” Hesitantly, he laid a hand on her shoulder. “Be of strong heart. One way or another, I swear that we will break this curse.”
She smiled up at him, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “I know. Go on, now. Before Aodhan changes his mind and locks you out.”
Since that was indeed a distinct possibility, he had no choice but to bow and take his leave. Yet as he hurried after Aodhan, he couldn’t shake a nagging, heartsick feeling that he had lost Tamsin’s trust.
And that, he discovered, hurt even more than losing her.
Chapter 11
As Cuan disappeared into Aodhan’s oak, some part of Tamsin wanted to run after him. To call him back and explain everything…
She pushed down the impulse. She’d seen the look on his face when she’d revealed that there was a way to break the tithe curse. Dismay, yes, and anguish…but there had been something more, too.
Just for an instant, there’d been a flash of gold in his eyes; raw and fierce and primal. Something that spoke to her on a deep animal level, without words, saying: Mine.
Cuan had covered it quickly, but it was obvious that until that moment, he hadn’t actually thought there was a way for her to return home. Hadn’t truly believed that helping her would mean losing her. Now he did…and for all his fine words, she couldn’t forget that instant, knee-jerk flare of possessiveness.
Tamsin sighed. “Can I ask you something, Motley? As Cuan’s friend?”
Motley cocked his head. “Not many people ask me things. Not more than once, anyway.”
She decided that boiled down to a ‘yes.’ “Do you think Cuan really will let me go?”
“No,” Motley said instantly, with force. “No, no, no. You’re his treasure. Can’t let you go. Can’t. Never, ever, ever.”
Tamsin blew out her breath. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”
Motley’s pale eyebrows drew down. He peered at her for a moment. Then he sank to a morose huddle on the ground, shoulders hunched like folded wings.
“Wrong,” he muttered, sounding like he was talking to himself. “Wrong, wrong, again. Trying to keep things together, but can’t. Never can. Just want to help.”
Tamsin released Angus, who trotted over to the nearest tree root and lifted a leg. She sat down on the grass next to Motley.
“You do help,” she said. “You helped me, when you didn’t have any reason to. You’re a good person, Motley. I trust you.”
“Shouldn’t,” Motley said wretchedly. He splayed out his long fingers like an explosion around his head. “Wrong, wrong. Lost. Broken.”
“You aren’t broken. You just have a hard time remembering things, right?”
Motley’s hands wandered across the grass, combing through the soft green blades as though searching for something. “Nobody should lose their treasure.”
Tamsin wasn’t sure if he meant this as a response, or if he’d jumped back to some earlier part of the conversation. Before she could ask, he lifted his head, fixing her with those unnerving midnight eyes.
“Can trust Cuan,” he said, his tone firming. “But he’s lost too. Can’t go home without your help.”
Tamsin frowned. “You mean, I need his help to go home.”
“Yes.” Motley’s haunted face broke into a brilliant, sweet smile. “That too.”
“Well, I need your help at the moment.” Tamsin hesitated, eying him. “And I need you to promise not to tell Cuan about it.”
Motley’s smile stretched into a wicked grin. Despite the gaunt lines etched around his ageless eyes, he looked like a gleeful schoolboy about to play some prank.
“All crow-kind love a trick,” he said. “What are we stealing?”
“No trick. And we aren’t stealing anything. This is important, Motley.” She laid a hand on his, holding his gaze. “You said yourself that Cuan can’t let me go. I do trust that he cares about me, and wants to keep me safe, but…I don’t want to put him in a position where his head has to fight his heart. That’s why I need you to keep this secret.”
Motley looked faintly disappointed, but he laid a finger against his lips, nodding. “Understand. Cuan is always fighting, inside. Needs to stop, if he’s to win. Mustn’t split him apart any worse. Won’t tell. Promise.”
“I need to get a message to someone back in my world.” She tightened her grip as he opened his mouth, forestalling him. “I know you promised Cuan that you wouldn’t go there again yourself. And I don’t want you to take any risks. But do you think it would be safe to open a tiny portal for a second or two? Just long enough to shove a note through?”
Motley turned his head one way, then the other, looking at her from each eye in turn as though he was in raven form.
“Could do,” he said after a thoughtful pause. “Possible. Yes. Who?”
“One of my friends.” Tamsin took a deep breath, hoping that she wasn’t making a huge mistake. “I think she’s a member of the Wi
ld Hunt.”
It was the only explanation that made sense. Betty had tried to warn her not to go near the stone circle that night. Tamsin remembered her friend’s strange, ominous words: You’d be surprised what’s lurking in the fields. Especially around Fair Hill.
It couldn’t be a coincidence. And then there was the odd way that every dog always loved Betty, how she’d always exuded an almost supernatural aura of strength and power…
Betty had to be Wild Hunt. She had to be.
Which meant that she might be the only person who could help her.
“Wild Hunt?” Motley’s shoulders twitched, like a bird ruffling up its feathers. “Dangerous, them. Don’t like my kind, no, no. Not at all.”
“I know my friend,” Tamsin said. “She’s a good, kind, fair person. I know she wouldn’t hurt anyone.”
Then again, she’d also never suspected that her friend might secretly be a renegade shapeshifting faerie. Despite her staunch words, Tamsin felt a pang of doubt. Did she know Betty?
Motley fidgeted, still looking uncertain. He reached into a fold of his ragged clothing, pulling out the button that Cuan had cut from her shirt earlier. He rolled it between his fingers, eyes going unfocused.
“She wears the armor of a knight.” His voice was suddenly deeper, more resonant. The words flowed smoothly, without his usual erratic pauses. “Though in your world, it is a uniform of blue, and her shield is a badge of gold. Tall and dark, with hidden fire in her eyes and true love at her side. She brings you the lost and the hurt. She hunts down evil and brings law-breakers to justice. You have not known her long as time is measured, but some friendships do not need years to grow deep roots. You would trust her with your life.”
As Tamsin sat there open-mouthed, Motley blinked, his head twitching in one of those sharp, nervous tics. He hid the button in his pocket again.
“Betty. Yes. Good. Good person, good idea, yes. Worth a try.” In a single swift, jerky movement, he was on his feet, turning on the spot. “Need a door.”
What was that? Tamsin wondered. But this wasn’t the moment to ask. She got up, joining Motley. He was poking around the enormous tree roots, muttering under his breath.