I shifted on my feet, and flashed Donn my most gracious smile.
“Thank you for the tea,” I said, even though I hadn’t touched a drop.
“This was fun, but we do need to be going,” Torn said, coming to his feet.
Ceff nodded and stood on my left, using his body to shield me from the Morrigan who was watching me intently.
“Perhaps, Donn, you could show us the hearth,” Ceff said.
“Of course,” Donn said.
“We need to find the portal,” I said, inching toward the hearth.
“That won’t be a problem,” he said. Thank Mab, I thought, something easy for a change. “Finding the lock that fits your key is another story.”
He waved me closer, and I bent down to see that what I’d assumed was decorative stonework lacing the interior of the hearth was in fact a series of locks. There were hundreds of them.
“We don’t have time for this,” I groaned.
I ran a hand through my hair, eyes searching the hearth for clues. It was then that I noticed that the glitter I’d left on the mantel was now gone, giving me an idea.
“Perhaps the hearth brownie can help us,” I said.
“That won’t be necessary,” Donn said. “Plus, Skilly is shy. It’s unlikely he’ll come if you call out to him, since we’ve been sitting close to the hearth all this time and he hasn’t yet joined us.”
“So how do I find the lock?” I asked.
“The answer is in the prophecy,” Donn said.
Starlight flashed in his eyes, and I was once again reminded of his power.
“Donn is right,” Ceff said.
I remembered the druid Bechuille’s prophecy, trying to find a clue in her words.
Inside Donn’s hearth bend your knee, close your eyes and turn the key.
I guess the trick was getting down on my knees and closing my eyes while holding my father’s key. Since we were dealing with a magic portal to Faerie, it wasn’t all that crazy of a concept.
“I guess now we just need to put the fire out,” I said. “Are you sure we shouldn’t consult with Skilly?”
“That won’t be necessary,” he said. “Allow me.”
He snapped his fingers and the flames of the fire winked out, leaving only a small pile of smoking ash. It reminded me of the ash that coated the inside of my mouth, and I wished silently for a toothbrush.
“Well, it was nice meeting you both,” I said, forcing myself to smile.
It had actually been terrifying and somewhat disturbing, but I figured it was wise to be polite to the god of death and the goddess of war.
“Until next time,” Torn said with a wink.
“I will see you soon enough,” Morrigan said, lips lifting in a grin.
Ceff stiffened beside me, and I let the full meaning of her words sink in.
“So Jenna was right,” I said. “War really is coming.”
“Yes,” Morrigan said, tilting her head back and letting out a hearty laugh.
I flinched as her laughter soon became a croaking caw as she shifted into a crow. The bird snatched a brownie, and flew up to one of the room’s many bookshelves, ghostly heads making a rapid retreat at her approach. Crumbs rained down as she pecked at the brownie, and Donn smiled.
“She has such a sweet tooth,” he said. “Not that she’d ever admit it.”
“I’ll remember that next time we meet,” I said.
“Safe travels,” he said.
I took a deep breath, ducked my head, and knelt inside the hearth. I was careful not to brush my head against the tapering rear wall of the fireplace. The last thing I needed was a psychic vision, or a pissed off hearth brownie.
I closed my eyes, and held the key in both hands like a dowsing rod. Kaye had taught me a thing or two about dowsing, to which I was grateful. When the key rotated to the right, I let my arms follow the movement.
With a gasp, my hands were jerked forward, and it was all I could do not to pull back. The key shot into the lock as if drawn by a powerful magnet. The key clicked in the lock, and someone whistled.
“Wow, Princess,” Torn said. “Looks like you found the right lock, all right.”
I cracked an eye open, half expecting to be surrounded by needles protruding from the hearth walls. Instead, I faced an ornate lock that glowed faintly with a bluish light.
“Now what?” I asked.
“I’m guessing you turn the key,” Torn said with a shrug.
“Wait,” Ceff said, leaning in for a better look. “We don’t know how the portal functions. Perhaps we should all be touching when it opens, just in case. We do not want to be separated.”
It was true that I hadn’t come all this way to be separated from Ceff and Torn because of some magical technicality, but I hesitated, sucking in air through my teeth. Touching hadn’t been part of the plan.
“Don’t worry, Princess,” Torn said. He gestured at his body, and smiled. “I know you can’t handle all this, not many women can, so I’m sure holding onto your jacket will be enough to keep us together.”
Ceff narrowed his eyes at Torn, but nodded.
“Okay, fine,” I said. “Make it quick.”
The faster we got this over with, the better. I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from snarling, as Ceff and Torn each grabbed one of my biceps.
“Ready,” Ceff said.
I breathed in through my nose, and turned the key once. Donn’s castle disappeared, leaving only the hearth suspended in empty space. We were no longer in Tech Duinn, but I doubted this was Faerie.
“Well,” Torn said, a grin stretching from ear to ear. “That wasn’t boring.”
Only Torn would think battling a baphomet, and having tea with both the god of the dead and the goddess of war was fun.
“You are the king of understatement,” I muttered.
I turned the key a second time, but nothing else happened. Smoke from the doused fire tickled my nose. Third time’s the charm.
I bit my lip, and turned the key. My stomach suddenly became acquainted with my throat, and I gasped.
The void was gone, replaced with someplace alien, yet beautiful—a world that both repelled me, and sang like sweet music to the blood within my veins.
“Faerie.”
Chapter 21
The smoke from Donn’s fire had been replaced by mist. A land of thick, shapeless fog now stood at our backs. The hearth we’d traveled through was gone, feasibly returning to Tech Duinn once it finished transporting the three of us to Faerie.
Faerie. We’d actually made it. I was so close to answers about my father, I could almost taste it. But before I could get the answers I so desperately needed, we had a new challenge to face.
My chest tightened at the realization that the portal hadn’t led me somewhere convenient, like a secret chamber containing all of my father’s secrets. The land before me was a riot of vivid colors and textures, every inch a new wonder to behold, but the fact remained that rather than arriving within the walls of the wisp court, we’d stumbled onto a crossroads.
“Welcome to Faerie, Princess,” Torn said.
I blinked, and tried to force a smile. We’d made it. Now I just had to figure out a way into my father’s court.
“Any idea which way leads to the wisp court?” I asked.
I spun in a circle, frowning at the two obvious choices. Aside from the veil of claustrophobia inducing fog, there was a living wall of vines in front of us, and a shimmering path to our left.
I crouched down to get a better look at the path, mouth falling open when I realized that the glittering surface was ice. Frost created a delicate tracery of lines that resembled lace, or the web of a particularly poisonous spider.
I jerked my head up, squinting to make out the structure that wavered like an illusion on the horizon. I gasped, my breath fogging, as I realized what lay at the end of the icy path. I backed away, earning a hiss from one of the carnivorous plants as I moved closer to the wall of vines.
“Cert
ainly not that way, Princess,” Torn said. “Not unless you want to get dead.”
“Is that really what I think it is?” I asked, pointing a gloved finger.
“Mab’s palace,” Ceff said. “Her royal seat of power, and the location of the Unseelie Court.”
I shivered, and I was pretty sure it wasn’t from the cold emanating from the icy path. Mab may not currently be in residence, but that didn’t make her palace any less formidable.
The Unseelie Court was the same group of powerful fae who’d ordered my execution at the hands of the Moordenaar. While my dealings with the assassins had been in the human world, I had no illusions that Mab hadn’t set up some way for the members of her court to communicate between the realms. No, the ones who’d decided that I was a traitor to our kind would be found within those walls.
If the Unseelie Court realized that I was alive, they’d finish what the Moordenaar started. Until I could demonstrate control over my wisp powers and create a glamour to protect our secret from humans, I’d be labeled a traitor—a crime punishable by death.
As if that wasn’t reason enough to avoid the Unseelie throne, there were also the warnings that Kaye had given me before leaving Harborsmouth. Reaching Mab’s castle would require a trip through the Forest of Torment, and that was one stroll through the woods I’d rather avoid.
Fog rose from the glistening path, once again obscuring the ice palace. I shook my head, pushing away thoughts of the Unseelie queen and her court. We weren’t taking that path, so there was no sense worrying about Mab and her minions.
“If my father was fleeing Mab’s wrath, I doubt he would have wanted me to give her palace a visit,” I said. “I think we can scratch that path off our list.”
That left the living wall of vines in front of us. The plants hissed and snapped, writhing like thorn covered snakes in their attempts to cannibalize one another.
“Looks like we have some gardening to do,” Torn said, lips lifting in a grin.
“I would not be so certain,” Ceff said, pointing to a camouflaged gap in the wall.
I squinted at the wall, eyes finally finding the outline of an opening, and sighed.
The only visible entrance through the vicious plants was blocked by a creature that resembled an enormous toad. Unless we wanted to take up Torn’s idea of cutting our way through, we’d need to get the creature to move out of our way.
A plant resembling a Venus fly trap lashed out, snatching a bird that had flown too close to the wall, and I swallowed hard. Hacking our way through that wall of vines was becoming less and less appealing.
Giant toad it is then.
“Is that really a giant toad?” I asked.
The thing was the size of a Volkswagon Beetle, and covered in leathery skin that was a greenish hue that matched the surrounding vines and mottled with warts. Some of those warts were bigger than a grapefruit.
Torn shrugged.
“You’re the one with second sight,” he said. “You tell me.”
I turned my head from side to side, trying to catch a glimpse of glamour, but the thing continued to look like a huge, sleeping toad.
“Maybe it’ll move if we toss a rock over there, or poke it with a stick?” I asked.
“Poke it with a stick? Are ye daft, lass?”
I spun around, blades hitting the palms of my gloves. Ceff let out a warning snort, his eyes going black as he took up position at my side. Torn sauntered to my other side, looking bored, but I knew better. The stocky fellow at our feet had caught the cat sidhe’s interest, and he was looking at it the same way a cat watches a tasty mouse.
“Who are you?” Ceff asked, voice hard.
“Ye not earned me name, an ye know it,” the man said.
There was something familiar about the hairy, little man. He was short, with knobby hands and stubby legs, and beneath his thick eyebrows gleamed intelligent, mischievous eyes that were probably quick to anger. His hair was black, not white, but the resemblance to Hob was uncanny.
I slid my knives away in their sheath and lifted my hands, palm up.
“He meant no offence,” I said.
“Well, I do,” Torn said, shifting his weight to the balls of his feet as if to pounce. “I don’t trust anyone who sneaks up on a cat sidhe.”
Good point.
“I think what my friend meant to ask is why you’re following us,” I said, keeping my voice slow and even. I knew better than to piss off a hearth brownie. My friends did too. I’d just have to point out who our diminutive guest was. “You had such a clean and beautiful hearth to tend back in Tech Duinn. I’m surprised you’d leave it to follow us here.”
“He’s a hearth brownie?” Torn asked.
He hissed, and took a step back. Smart kitty. Even the lord of the cat sidhe wasn’t immune to being pixed by a vengeful hearth brownie.
“Didna get dis treasure for me looks,” he said, showing us a handful of glitter and cubic zirconia jewels, and flashing me a gap-toothed smile.
I nodded.
“He’s a hearth brownie,” I said. I cocked my head, and rubbed my chin, studying the brownie. “Now what shall we call you?”
He shrugged.
“How about George?” asked Ceff.
“Pfft!” The brownie sputtered, and stomped his feet.
“Or Lucille,” Torn said, eyes glinting. “I like Lucille. Such a pretty name.”
“I’m no George, and I aint no lassy!” he said, face going red.
I stifled a giggle, and nodded solemnly. If we actually laughed at the brownie, we’d be pixed for sure.
“Yes, we need a better name for you,” I said. “But what?”
“Skillywidden!” he yelled.
“Ah, a fine name,” Ceff said.
I nodded. It matched the nickname, Skilly, that Donn had used for his hearth brownie. While I was glad to solve that mystery, I still had no idea why Skillywidden had left Tech Duinn.
“Welcome, Skillywidden,” I said. “So why did you follow us here?”
“You had a perfectly nice hearth back in Tech Duinn,” Torn said, eyeing the brownie like he might sprout fangs any minute. “Why leave?”
“It was too bloody perfect,” Skillywidden grumbled, kicking at a rock. “The dead dinnae leave messes, and Donn is a god. He dinnae even leave ash in the grate for Skilly to clean. I right gone sodding doololly when you lot showed up with your magic key.”
“So you followed us out of Tech Duinn,” I said.
“Always did want to ken where that portal went ta,” he said with a shrug.
“Okay,” I said, rubbing a hand over my face. “You can tag along if you like, but stay back if there’s trouble. I can’t guarantee you’re safety.”
I wasn’t sure how we were getting back to Harborsmouth now that the hearth with its magic portal was gone, but maybe if we could find our way here again, we’d be able to uncover the portal on our way out.
“Wouldna mind a bit o’ danger,” he said.
“Well, I do mind,” I said. “Look, we need an exit strategy. Can you keep track of the way back to this spot? Eventually we’ll need to make our way through the portal again.”
“Aye, I can see the hearth right there,” he said. “I’d have to be blind not to find me way back.”
The little brownie could still see Donn’s hearth? He was already worth his weight in cubic zirconia. If we ever made it back to Harborsmouth, I’d make sure to send him his own bejeweling kit. Donn wouldn’t know what hit him.
“Good,” I said. “Keeping track of our location, and remembering the way back to the hearth, will be your job. It’s an important job. We’ll be counting on you.”
“Think you can do all that?” Torn asked.
“Course I can,” Skillwidden said. “I can do it while cleanin’ Tech Duinn’s ash from your hair, and shinin’ your boots.”
It was ironic that the very cleanliness that drove Skillywidden from Donn’s hearth hadn’t been true outside the doors of the death god’s hom
e. Corpse ash covered our hair and clothing, with streaks of ash and blood like war paint on both Ceff and Torn’s faces. Skillywidden’s eyes gleamed and his hands twitched, but I shook my head.
“If you’re coming with us, you have to agree not to touch me,” I said. “Ceff and Torn might be glad of your services, but I’m a different matter.”
“But ye filthy!” he said, waving his hands.
“I know,” said with a sigh. “I’ll try to fix that, but I need your promise.”
“Just ye boots?” he asked, eyebrows raised.
“No,” I said. “Now do we have a bargain?”
Skillywidden blew out a heavy sigh, but nodded.
“Aye, we have a bargain,” he said.
If I hadn’t experienced my share of bargains, I would have missed the sheen of sweat that broke out along his forehead, and the tightening of his lips. Faerie bargains hold power over the fae, especially purebloods. Even as a half-blood, the act of making a bargain usually stole my breath away.
I nodded, satisfied that Skillywidden would keep his word. Once made, there was no way to break a faerie bargain—not without dying and coming back from the dead. Been there, done that, and I don’t plan on trying it again. Resurrection is highly overrated.
“As much as I’d love to be free of this filth,” Ceff said, brushing ash from his shoulder. “I suggest we formulate a plan on how to move the creature that’s barring our way inside the barrier.”
“I say we fight,” Torn said, a gleam in his eye as his claws extended.
“Fools,” Skillywidden muttered.
“Got a better idea?” Torn asked, raising an eyebrow at the grumbling brownie.
“I do,” I said.
“So how do you propose we get rid of our giant toad problem?” Torn asked.
“With a distraction,” I said. “And I know just the thing.”
Chapter 22
“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” I said through clenched teeth.
“It was your idea, Princess,” Torn said. “Not our fault you drew the shortest stake.”