Soul

  “His own,” Arlen replied when I asked about them. “I should have convinced him to use something new.”

  “He had no choice,” Sorcha said. “If he wants loyalty, he has to remind them of who he used to be.”

  “But he’s not the same man,” Arlen said, “whether you like it or not.”

  She ignored him and kept watching. The champion’s helmet covered his face, so I couldn’t see what he looked like, but he was tall and broad, taller than even Arlen and Líle.

  “I’m scared,” I whispered.

  Anya squeezed my hand, but her fingers trembled as much as mine.

  Two of the younger candidates cornered Brendan, while the other fought against the experienced one. Sadler’s champion bided his time. The elder fighter killed his younger opponent with a clever feint quickly followed by a thrust to the heart.

  Sadler’s champion circled Brendan, preparing to take him out from behind.

  “Behind you!” I screamed, making my companions flinch.

  Brendan ducked and swung under his closest opponent’s legs. Jumping to his feet, he stabbed the man in the back of the neck. The other had taken off after Sadler’s champion, forcing him into the battle. Brendan raced toward the older man. They thrust and parried for long minutes, neither gaining an obvious advantage.

  “Watch the champion,” Arlen said, getting to his feet.

  The champion swung his sword lazily, while the younger fighter before him exhausted himself with blow after blow that didn’t connect. The champion blocked a blow, then swung and beheaded the final young candidate with one clean strike. He immediately stepped over the body to join Brendan and the older candidate, who had slowed considerably.

  The three faeries moved slowly, carefully, measuring each other. Some of the spectators booed, apparently bored by the lack of action. As if called to perform, Brendan somersaulted into the air, spreading both his arms. The old man was knocked off-balance by Brendan’s shield, while Brendan’s sword connected with the champion’s, making a clanging sound. I deflated in disappointment, but Arlen shouted in joy.

  “He pierced the armour,” Arlen said.

  I saw blood dripping from the champion’s sword arm. A cheer went up as the crowd grew eager for more.

  “Almost there,” Líle muttered.

  As if by a silent command, both of Brendan’s opponents turned on him.

  “Why do they keep doing that?” I cried.

  “His claim is stronger than either of theirs,” Arlen said, his gaze never leaving his king. “Both will have a better chance without him in the melee.”

  I was terrified, and that just might help. I ran toward the pit before anyone could stop me, pushing through fae to reach the wire. I gripped it with my fingers as people shoved against me, some of them clawing at my dress and sniffing my skin as my anxiety hit them.

  Brendan held my gaze for a split-second, understanding. He ran toward me, leading his opponents in my direction. We both knew my fear would help him, but it could help the others, too. But Brendan was used to me, and they were not. They wouldn’t know what my fear felt like. And hopefully, that would make the difference.

  I thought of every fear, every wish, every time something in the world touched me, and I let the feelings flow and engulf me, even though they were terrifying. I drowned in everything that scared me then panicked at the sensation, which sent everything spiralling out of control.

  The crowd around me thickened, and I felt their darkness. But Arlen reached me and shielded me from most of the faeries trying to tear me to pieces in their excitement.

  Brendan was faster than the others, more agile, and he managed to fight both off in a series of breathtaking moves. The older man’s eyes grew dazed as my terror hit him. A smile curved his lips even as Brendan swung his sword around and beheaded him.

  I was drenched in warm blood, but didn’t move. The champion kept going after Brendan.

  “Stop!” I screamed.

  The other spectators joined in, calling for the end. Two had survived. The fight was over.

  Arlen gripped my arms and pulled me out of the crowd, but the faeries had already forgotten me in their eagerness to reach Brendan. He was released from the pit, and it seemed as though he garnered all of the praise, perhaps because of his skill. I didn’t care; I was just happy he was alive.

  When he came near, I hugged him, but I wasn’t the only one trying to touch him, and I was soon pushed back, slipping farther and farther away from Brendan and Arlen. The crowd had fallen in love with the king who fought his own battles. They hauled him onto their shoulders and proclaimed him the champion of the day. He grinned down at me, a genuine, boyish grin. Even Sorcha smiled as he was carried away.

  “Come,” Anya whispered in my ear. “Let’s clean you up before the feast.”

  “Fucking hell. How many parties do we need to have?”

  She chuckled. “As many as it takes. He won. Did you see it? How truly amazing it was?”

  “He did good,” I said, full of excitement. “Now let’s get this blood off me, please.”

  Brendan’s camp was noisy and excited when we reached it. Some of his guards spun me around in their arms on the way to the tent. The pixies were running wild.

  “Why are they being nice to me all of a sudden?” I asked Anya as Líle and Realtín chased off some overly eager guards.

  “You didn’t make him weak,” Anya explained. “They call you his lucky charm now. They won’t kill you today.”

  I laughed. “That’s a relief.”

  Something changed at the feast that night. None of us were able to get near Brendan. People fawned over him, and I wondered if the attention would go to his head. Then, he caught my eye and raised a glass.

  I grinned and did the same, but his attention was immediately taken again by questions and admirers and who knew what else.

  I slept alone in the tent that night, and when I awoke, his bed hadn’t been slept in. The ache in my chest squeezed a little harder.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  “Today is an excuse to mingle and impress the bluebloods,” Anya confided as we ate breakfast together.

  “I suppose it’s true,” Grim said. “The lesser fae brought him this far. It’s down to the important fae in the end. Tonight, they’ll announce tomorrow’s events.”

  “When will I have to speak?” I asked.

  “It should be tomorrow,” Líle said. “But the secrecy makes me think they’ve dreamed up a new task for the candidates first.”

  “So what do we do today?”

  “Relax,” Realtín said, concentrating on tying knots in my hair.

  Anya brushed her away with the back of a hand. “They may call upon you today. You need to be ready, Cara.”

  “I’m ready,” I said. “Has anyone seen Brendan today?”

  “Getting a head start on Sadler, no doubt,” Líle said.

  We spent most of the day hanging around Brendan’s camp and listening to his guards tell stories of the old days, when Brendan had first been king. I didn’t recognise him at all in those tales, and again, I feared I wasn’t doing the right thing.

  “You’ve been quiet today,” Grim said, taking a seat by my side. I had chosen to sit away from the group, losing myself to my own worries.

  I opened my mouth to answer when Sorcha arrived with her very own entourage.

  “They’ve called for you,” she said urgently. “Hurry. This may be our chance to pull ahead.”

  “I thought he was doing well,” I said as I followed her, my companions in tow.

  “Sadler’s played a good game behind the scenes. Don’t let Brendan down now.”

  A woman stood on a chair and addressed the crowd. “Sadler has claimed that the circumstances of Brendan’s… return discredit his claim, and Brendan states he has proof that will clear his name. We have decided that tomorrow shall be a great hunt. The winner shall choose what to do with the witness’s testimony. For now, Sadler has called upon his right to h
ear from the witness’s own lips. Send the true child to Sadler.”

  Brendan leapt to his feet. “No! He can’t have her.”

  “The hunt shall decide who will have her,” the woman said, looking pleased with herself. “For now, it is his right, and he shall have it. She will come to no harm.”

  Brendan eyes burned. “An escort. She has the right to an escort.”

  Líle took a step after me.

  The woman shook her head. “The sprite will do.”

  Arlen laid a hand on Brendan’s shoulder until he nodded his agreement. “Very well,” he said through gritted teeth.

  They led me away and took me to Sadler’s camp. Dozens of squealing children chased each other around a large marquee. Lying on a bed in the centre of the tent, surrounded by shrouded figures, was an ancient-looking man who appeared to be very ill.

  “You’re Sadler?” I blurted.

  “That I am,” he said, gazing at me. “Raven-haired. Not the usual type.”

  I frowned.

  “Sit by me,” he said. “You’re safe here for a time. You’re as dark-haired as my family, so you fit in.”

  I did as he said, clenching my hands nervously.

  “Do you see them all? My grandchildren? All of them born from human mothers. Some more fae than others. He collects them, you see.”

  “Who collects them?”

  “My son.”

  “Deorad.”

  His laugh was weak. “They like to give names to the things they fear. He has no name. He’s not worthy of one. His own mother was human, as fair as I was dark. He hates her memory, so he tortures the fair-haired human women, brings their children here to us, and waits to see what they can do.”

  “They’re all your son’s children?” I asked in surprise.

  “All but one. Do you see her? She’s as fair as his mother was.”

  I stared at the children and spotted one in an old-fashioned pram, sucking on a slice of what looked like watermelon. “The baby?”

  “A baby now. But she’ll grow, and perhaps she’ll give him a child who looks like her. Perhaps he’ll be satisfied then. Perhaps. I’ve told him how hard it is for a dark-haired fae to have a child like that, but she’s as mixed as he, except she’s the child of a daoine sídhe, while he’s the son of a dog. But he loves the old legends.”

  I gaped at him, and he laughed.

  “Of course you wouldn’t know. They say that the two who don’t belong in either world will bring a child more powerful than even that of a king and queen. Old stories. He’s taken with a lot of things.”

  “You took somebody’s kid to have your son’s child? I don’t—”

  He waved his hand. “Oh, her mother’s dead. And she’ll be his true wife some day. A queen, in fact. And he’s had fair-haired children before. Most died in the crib, and one disappeared.”

  “Why are you telling me all of this?”

  “Why? Because I’m going to die and name my son my heir. Because even he, with his… peculiarities is better than Brendan the Betrayer. Brendan did this to my son, you see. He took my wife and ruined her. I wasn’t even sure if the child was mine at first. I left him with the people of the thorns, and they spoiled his mind even further. When he came to me fully grown, I could see he was mine. He had coal-black hair and my mother’s eyes. Her wings, too. Typical.”

  He struggled to sit up. “I’m telling you this because Brendan ruined the fae once. You can’t let it happen again. My son will hunt tomorrow, and if you don’t change your say, he will find you and silence you. The choice is up to you, my child.”

  I stared at the dark-haired children and the one fair-haired child, daughter of a daoine sídhe and trapped into a life of marriage to a madman. “I can’t,” I whispered.

  “So be it,” he said. “I gave you a chance. I know his charm. I don’t blame the weakness of your mind. Come take my hand and let us bid each other farewell.”

  I held out my hand hesitantly.

  He grabbed it, pulled me closer, and sniffed my wrist. To my surprise, he let out a low chuckle. “Ah, you’re one of those children. I needn’t have worried.” He looked over my shoulder. “Take her away.”

  A dark-haired man walked over to me. He had violet eyes, and his features were sharp and angled and completely familiar to me. The fae gripped my arm harder than necessary. I sucked in a breath as I realized he was most likely Drake’s father.

  Sadler chuckled. “Funny how life works out, child. My son will escort you back.”

  “Give my regards to Brendan,” Sadler said. “I’m sure we’ll meet each other in the Nether very soon.”

  I glared at him. “You’re making a mistake.”

  “We all make mistakes.” He closed his eyes.

  As we exited Sadler’s camp, Realtín flew toward me, looking fit to burst. I stole glances at Deorad until he let me go, signalling for a guard to accompany me. Realtín pinched me, and I nodded at her. Brendan was no longer at the feast, but Líle and the others had waited there to take me back to camp.

  “You look as though you’ve seen a ghost,” Líle whispered to me.

  I shook my head and pressed on, more than ready to feel safe again.

  When I entered the tent, Brendan stood and led me to a chair. “What did he say?”

  I took a seat, my knees wobbling. “That he knows he’s going to die soon, but he’s making his son heir. He doesn’t care as long as you don’t get the throne.”

  Brendan sat beside me. “That can’t be all.”

  I cleared my throat. “He gave me a chance to betray you. There are children, so many children there. All his grandchildren. Except for one.”

  “My daughter?” Dymphna cried.

  “I think so.”

  “I listened in,” Realtín said. “The other children called her by your daughter’s name.”

  “Is she well?”

  “They’re taking good care of her,” I said. “But they plan on making her queen some day. Deorad… he wants a child with fair hair because of his… his mother.” I avoided Brendan’s eyes.

  “And what did you say when he asked you to betray me?” Brendan asked coldly.

  “Give me a fucking break!” I jumped up and fled from the tent.

  Realtín caught up with me. “Why didn’t you tell them?”

  I shrugged. “Drake would hear. He might try to go after Deorad. It would ruin it all.”

  “You’re choosing Brendan over Drake?” she asked, sounding a little hurt.

  “It’s not about either of them anymore,” I said. “Brendan wants peace. He wants to make peace with Sadler. That proves it, Realtín.”

  “Proves what?”

  “That he’s the right choice, that he’ll restore order. He’s learned from his mistakes. He freed you.”

  She let out a pathetic little whimper. “But we’ve nowhere else to go.”

  I bit back laughter that would almost certainly contain a tinge of hysteria. “Let’s go back to the tent for a start.”

  When we returned, the others were discussing ways to rescue Dymphna’s daughter.

  “During the hunt,” I said. “Deorad will be there. They think Dymphna’s dead. They won’t expect anyone to sneak into their camp and take the child. I could go and try to convince Sadler I’ve changed my mind. The rest of you can get the kid out of there.”

  “Líle, it will have to be you,” Brendan said. “You need to lead them. Arlen would be too obvious.”

  “We’ll all go with Cara,” Anya said. “She can be seen entering and leaving his camp alone, but she’ll be a distraction for the rest of us to work together at retrieving the child. Dymphna can’t go, of course.”

  “How am I supposed to…?” Dymphna shook her head. “Fine. But as soon as we have her, I’m taking her to the daoine sídhe. Sadler’s actions will convince them to protect her. It’s a matter of honour. I will return.”

  “Will you?” Brendan snapped.

  “What the hell is your problem?” I yelled.
“Stop taking whatever is bothering you out on everyone else!”

  Brendan raised his hand. “Líle, take the human away before I do something I regret.”

  I headed for the door. “Don’t bother, Líle. I can’t bear being around him for a second longer.” I left the tent and stalked off in a fury.

  Not far from the tent, someone covered my mouth, while others grabbed my arms from behind.

  The men carried me away in silence, and I just knew Brendan would assume I really had betrayed him.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  I scowled at the velvet cushions at my feet. Five ginormous warrior fae stood outside the tent and weren’t about to let me escape. I’d tried. Three times.

  An old female fae strode in and smiled at me, but her silver eyes were cold. “And here she is,” she cooed, clutching a handful of my hair and sniffing it. “So human. Not even a trace under your skin. We’d all heard how fae you were.” She leaned closer and lowered her voice. “We all know how much they exaggerate, poor things.”

  “Let me go,” I said as fiercely as I could manage. “I’m supposed to be with the king.”

  “The king?” She raised an eyebrow. “We don’t have one of those yet. And wouldn’t you rather be free, little girl? To go back to the humans and forget all about us?”

  “That’s not possible. They come back. They always come back for us. Do you think Brendan will just let—”

  “The rules of today don’t bow to a wannabe royal,” she snapped. “We’ve decided on a hunt, and you will be the prize. But of course, it wouldn’t be sporting if you didn’t have a chance yourself.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “If Brendan catches you, he decides if you speak for him. The same for Sadler’s champion, although I think we both realise your death will do a fine job to silence you. But you… we’re giving you a chance at freedom. Makes it all the more exciting, don’t you think?”

  “Freedom?”

  She smiled wickedly. “If you find a way out, you can choose to walk away. No fae will ever look upon you again. We won’t speak your name. You will be free.”

  I looked away. Part of me wanted that badly. Freedom. A fresh start. But the fae…