Dance with the Fae

Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

K it vomited relentlessly, heaving up cocoa and ginger biscuits until only stomach acid remained. Throughout, Merelda rubbed his back, her palm moving in slow circles as she murmured words of comfort that did nothing to ease his revulsion at what he’d just seen. When his stomach had nothing left to surrender, he gazed up at her, his eyes swimming from the exertion. Genuine tears weren’t far behind, he suspected.

‘That’s… Who did that to you?’

Merelda looked at him, impatience writ large over her face.

‘Of course, you can’t answer. Oh God, Merelda, you poor thing, it must be torture. Does anyone else know?’

Enid handed him a handkerchief and a glass of water. He wiped his mouth then took a long drink.

‘Only me. And the man – the creature – who did this to her. I guessed within minutes of meeting her. My great-grandmother was raped by a kelpie so I’ve a touch of The Sight, you see.’

‘This is madness.’ Kit sank back on the chair, his legs no longer supporting him as he struggled to comprehend what had happened to his world. His ears buzzed, making everything sound distant and muffled, reminiscent of the after-effects of a bombing raid.

‘You, casually talking about fairies and spells and whatever that thing you mentioned. If it’s true, it turns everything we know about the world on its head.’

‘ If it’s true? I’m starting to get a little impatient that you don’t accept it after what you’ve seen and what you’ve told me tonight,’ Merelda snapped. ‘Did you weep and wail with denial like a child when you were faced with the battlefield and the folly of men?’

Kit shook his head. He felt his mind let go of his doubts and the relief that came with it. Merelda’s expression softened.

‘Go back and talk to Miss Dove. For the sake of all of us release her from her prison before the entire force of the Unseelies descends on us. I’ve set you on the path as much as I can. The rest is up to you. If it leads to Adelaide being unenchanted, then that’s to the good.’

‘Take this,’ Enid said, holding out the bottle of mead.

‘I’ve got whisky in my room, thank you,’ Kit replied.

She looked at him pointedly. ‘Mead is always a good thing to have for emergencies.’

Obediently, he slipped it into his dressing-gown pocket beside the lilacs. He walked to the door, but before stepping outside a thought struck him.

‘Was it Silas Wilde who cursed you?’ he asked Merelda.

‘No. I have no doubt he’s as duplicitous as the rest of his species and I wish you’d heeded my warnings, but he has never harmed me.’

‘Good. That’s one less reason to take vengeance on him.’

He bristled with anger as he returned to the butler’s pantry.

Crossle was sitting on the comfortable chair smoking his pipe and reading the newspaper. He sat up sharply as Kit entered.

‘Any trouble?’ Kit asked. He squared his shoulders, the memory of Merelda’s toad galvanising him to take no nonsense. His stomach rippled with loathing and disgust once more. He pushed the image from his mind, though he knew in truth it would never leave him and would join the catalogue of mud and blood-soaked trenches and battlefields that taunted him at night.

‘Been as quiet as a mouse.’

That should have been reassuring but after Merelda’s threats his hand shook as he reached for the key. The reason for the silence became immediately obvious. The chair had been knocked sideways and Miss Dove was lying in a heap, her face hidden from view and one arm stretched to the door. The room was filled with the scent of mimosas. Not the fresh, dewy, honey-like scent that he’d experienced before, but overripe and pungent. He was past the point of caring about odd occurrences by now.

‘Miss Dove!’

He dashed to her side and dropped to his knees beside her.

‘It could be a trick,’ the butler said darkly.

Kit glared round at him. With Merelda and Enid’s dire warnings in his head that thought hadn’t even occurred to him.

‘Crossle, don’t just stand there, get me some water!’

The butler looked outraged at the lack of use of his title, but he backed out of the doorway. Kit unearthed Miss Dove’s arm, checking for her pulse. It was regular, though very faint and rapid.

‘Miss Dove, can you hear me?’

He rolled her onto her back, cradling her head in his lap. Her face was alabaster pale, and her lips bloodless. She didn’t respond, so still holding her wrist, he pinched between her thumb and first finger as he’d been taught in the army. The soft spot was so painful to a firm touch that if she was faking, she wouldn’t be able to hide her response. Her eyelids fluttered and she gave a soft moan. Crossle appeared at Kit’s shoulder with a glass of water. Kit tried to tip a little between her lips but most of it trickled down her chin and neck.

She murmured a word.

‘Out.’

Kit had to strain to catch it, she spoke so quietly, but he recognised what she was asking. He didn’t hesitate, scooping her into his arms and carrying her out of the unintentional torture chamber.

‘I’ll put her in your chair, Mr Crossle,’ Kit announced, remembering to use the butler’s title.

‘Miss Dove, can you open your eyes? Alexandra? Can you speak?’ Kit asked loudly.

‘She’s acting, sir,’ Crossle said.

‘I don’t think so.’

She had barely flinched when he had pinched her hand. He gently stroked her cheek and she gave a gentle moan.

‘Do you have anything stronger than water?’ he asked, before remembering the bottle Enid had given him. ‘Never mind. I have.’

He took the bottle of mead from his pocket and uncorked it. To his intense relief, Miss Dove sniffed and partially opened her eyes.

‘Neat or in water do you think?’ he asked Crossle. On the battlefield he wouldn’t have hesitated in giving a soldier neat liquor, but Miss Dove looked so delicate. Throwing caution to the wind, Kit put the bottle to her lips and tilted it.

She opened her eyes, straining her head forward. He let her sip then withdrew it. Her lips glistened and a single drop of mead lay on the indent in the centre of the bottom lip. Not quite knowing why, Kit reached his finger out and brushed it into her mouth. Her lips tightened around his fingertip and her tongue flickered over the underside of his nail. It was intensely erotic and unnerving. He pulled his finger out.

Miss Dove opened her eyes fully. ‘Thank you,’ she murmured. ‘How did you know about mead?’

‘I just happened to have some,’ he said. He sat back on his haunches, considering what he’d just said.

He hadn’t just happened to have some ; Merelda and Enid had known it might be useful and pressed it on him. His throat tightened, he still found it hard to believe any of what he was learning, and if it hadn’t been for the toad he most likely still wouldn’t have. His stomach heaved again, reminding him that for all the sympathy he felt for Miss Dove, she was his enemy.

‘Can you walk?’ he asked curtly.

‘I’ll try.’

Kit gave her space to stand. She was a little uncertain on her feet as they walked through the house. He wasn’t entirely sure that she wasn’t play-acting so he slung one of her arms around his neck and held her wrist. He put his other arm around her waist and caught the scent of mimosa again, but now there was none of the over-sweetness.

It was perfectly logical. When she was ill she smelled of decaying flowers and now she was recovering she smelled fresh because she was a fairy. At this time of night, he was prepared to accept anything. Back in his room he lowered her into a chair in the sitting room, hauled another over and sat opposite her.

‘Are you feeling recovered? You can have some more mead if you like. Personally, I’m going to have a large whisky.’

‘Does the mead come with conditions?’ she asked. Her eyes were starting to look less dazed. ‘I don’t want it, if that’s the case. I’m under enough obligations already.’

She was sounding better too, more belligerent.

‘The only condition is that there are more questions I need to ask you.’

‘That will do,’ she said, and held her hand out for the bottle.

Kit clicked his tongue, wondering about how to phrase them, and also how many he may ask.

‘Honestly, I don’t even know how to begin,’ he said finally. ‘What you told me shouldn’t be possible. It can’t be and yet… And yet, I spoke to my great-aunt. She appeared to confirm some of the things you have said.’

She raised her eyes, lifting a brow questioningly. Otherwise, she sat perfectly still, hands neatly in her lap.

‘I saw a damned toad!’ he blurted out. ‘Your Mr Wilde told her she had a toad on her tongue, and I saw one.’

Far from looking unnerved, Miss Dove smiled and took a swig from the bottle. ‘I knew there was something affixed to her, but not all of us can read each other’s bedazzlements.’

‘Then who did it?’

She looked down at her hands, twisting the bracelet around her wrist.

‘Caul Gilling likes to stymie people in that manner.’

‘Who is that?’

‘No one you’d want to meet,’ she said quietly.

‘You’re going to tell me how to get my fiancée back.’

‘I can’t. She needs to be where she is.’

‘She needs to be here .’ Kit leaned over her, his heart beginning to thump. ‘Because if you don’t, I’ll surround you with iron until you beg for mercy. Handcuffs, horseshoes. Even Crossle’s damned mantrap if I have to.’

‘No, you won’t, you don’t have it in you,’ she said, giving a dismissive wave of the hand.

‘Oh, really?’ He walked away to the window, putting his hands in his dressing gown pockets and his fingers closed around the iron key. He hesitated. If everything he’d learned was true then this would amount to torture, but how could he not do everything within his power to get Adelaide back?

He turned back to face Miss Dove.

‘Catch!’ he commanded, throwing it at her head.

She reached out as he’d anticipated. It was a natural instinct, especially when coupled with an instruction. Her fingers closed around it and she let out an ear-piercing shriek that could have been surprise, pain or anger, or a mixture of all three. She dropped it immediately and it fell into her lap. With hands like claws, she brushed it off as if spiders played on her gown. She looked up at him with eyes full of accusation and pain.

‘You cullion! You waggot!’ she spat.

‘You didn’t think I would be capable? Then you don’t know what I suffered in the war.’ Kit snarled. His stomach curdled with remorse and he walked back to her side and spoke a little more gently.

‘Show me your hand.’

She held it out, curled into a fist. Kit eased her fingers open. There was an inflamed red mark across her palm, the thickness of the key, and the same on the second fold of each finger. Kit winced with guilt. The iron had done this. Everything she said was true.

‘That looks painful,’ he said quietly.

‘Oh, do you think so? How observant!’ Her voice dripped with sarcasm, and he couldn’t blame her. She turned her wrist over and held it up to the light.

‘A crack! Look, the band! It’s cracked!’ She held her arm out towards Kit. He had to peer closely to make out the almost invisible hairline crack between two of the swirls. It was about the length of his little fingernail and about as thin.

‘Don’t worry. It’s barely noticeable.’

‘But it’s there,’ she whispered, so quietly he could barely hear her. When she raised her head, her eyes were brimming with tears. ‘It cracked. The iron did it. And I never even considered that.’

She laughed, loud and wild, then before Kit could react, she had leapt from her chair, thrown herself into his arms and kissed him. Not just a peck on the cheek but full on the mouth. Her lips were soft, skimming his with a lightness that was agonisingly insufficient. He tasted honey from the mead she’d drunk and he kissed her back, hooking an arm behind her head to pull her close while he crushed his mouth with hers. His mind caught up a moment too late and he released her with a cry. Flames danced across his face.

‘Why did you do that?’ he gasped.

‘Because you believed me,’ she said. Her eyes filled with tears but she smiled. ‘You threatened me with iron. You wouldn’t do that if you didn’t believe me.’

Kit licked his lips. The lingering trace of mead sent shivers running down his spine and curling into his belly.

‘I believe you. After what I’ve seen tonight I can’t not. Now you’re going to take me to where Adelaide has gone and you’re not going to play any tricks and there aren’t going to be any curses or bewitchment.’

‘I don’t bewitch,’ she scoffed. ‘That’s for witches.’

‘Then tell me what you call it.’

‘Bedazzlement,’ she said sourly. ‘Or entrancement.’

‘Then I want your word on whatever scrap of honour you have that you will attempt nothing against me.’

‘Why do you assume my honour is less than yours,’ she sneered.

‘Because you associate with an abductor and you would have condemned me to the same fate had I been foolish enough to accept a walnut from you,’ Kit said coldly.

‘I swear.’ She put her forefingers together, then rested her thumbs in the hollow of her collarbone making a sort of triangle shape. ‘I swear by the codes to which I am bound, the moon I was born under and the rock I was birthed upon, that I shall not enchant, entrap or bedazzle you.’

‘And you won’t let anyone else do that to me,’ Kit added. ‘Swear that, too, that you’ll keep me from harm.’

Her eyes glinted. ‘You’ve cunning in that pretty head of yours as well as sweetness on your lips. Yes, I swear I shall be your patron and protectress and your counsel. I will not play you false in this. There, will that do?’

‘I think so,’ Kit said. It was the best he was going to get, and he’d followed men into battle with less assurances.

She nodded in satisfaction. ‘Now, there are things I need, and they are where we’ve been staying. I’ll be back soon. You should probably take a few things with you, too, and change out of your pyjamas.’

Kit glanced down at himself, having completely forgotten what he was wearing. Miss Dove took advantage of his distraction and began to walk to the door, but Kit caught her arm. She looked at his hand pointedly then rolled her eyes. Slightly shamed, he released her.

‘I swear I will come back. It’s to my advantage to take you there, not only yours. I won’t be gone more than a quarter-hour.’

Despite everything, Kit was intrigued. ‘Where have you been staying?’

‘There’s an old house at the furthest end of the village from here that has been a wayfaring house for centuries. The landlady kindly let us have a room.’

‘The Pipe and Drum? You won’t get there and back in that time,’ Kit pointed out. ‘It’ll take you ten minutes at least to cross the grounds and the bridge, and that’s in daytime when there’s nothing to trip over.’

‘Let’s say I’ll take the route as the crow flies.’

She laughed and Kit felt, as with so much recently, that he was missing something. The flavour of an idea tickled his mouth; a suspicion so outlandish that he needed time to think it over. Miss Dove clapped her hands and he lost the threads.

‘Fifteen minutes in front of where the maze opens.’ She left the room.

Kit went to his bedroom, changed from his pyjamas into trousers and a shirt and pulled a sweater over the top. He still owned a canvas rucksack from his teenage years when he’d gone camping, and it had less unpleasant associations than his army knapsack. He had no idea how long he would be gone for, so packed two changes of socks and underwear just in case; the experiences of soaking wet feet in the trenches having made him determined never to suffer that again. His toothbrush and pot of tooth powder joined them, along with the bottle of mead.

His stomach growled and he made himself a pot of tea and toast to replace the food that his stomach had evacuated, then put the half-eaten packet of ginger biscuits into the bag, thinking they’d be useful for keeping hunger at bay.

His heart gave a thump and he shivered. What was the point of all this preparation, when he would most likely be lying in a stupor on his bed like Adelaide was? Did his possessions go with him in whatever dreamlike state he was in? He hoped so. He thought about scribbling a note to his parents telling them not to worry but decided against it on the basis that no one would believe him. Except, of course, the two people who would. He checked his watch. Only seven minutes had elapsed. He slung the bag onto his shoulder and ran out to the dovecot.

This time it took three knocks before Enid opened the door. Without waiting to be asked, Kit rushed in. Merelda was making her way slowly down from the bedroom.

‘I’m going with Miss Dove. I need you to tell me everything I need to know to be safe. I’m sure there are lots of rules in the books, but I don’t have time to read them.’

Merelda completed her descent.

‘Words have power. Be respectful. Don’t make a bargain unless the terms suit you, and make sure you ask bravely. Don’t make a promise without something in return. Don’t stray from the path, however tempting.’

Enid had gone into the kitchen as soon as Kit had spoken. Now she returned and handed him a couple of apples and a slice of tea bread wrapped in waxed paper.

‘Take these to ward off hunger. Don’t take food or drink offered without ensuring it places you under no obligation – ask that specifically. Freely given and no obligation. Remember the words. You don’t want to end up like Proserpine, trapped because of your belly.’

‘Is this freely given and with no obligation?’ Kit asked.

The women nodded. ‘That’ll do.’

Both of them embraced him and kissed his cheeks.

‘Good luck,’ Merelda said. ‘Bring Adelaide home, but remember that if you fail it won’t be from want of trying.’

Kit raised his head, feeling a little like he had on the day he’d joined the regiment. They’d left as young men with nervous bellies but optimistic hearts and had won the war but at a cost that sometimes felt too high to have paid.

‘I don’t intend to fail.’

Miss Dove was waiting for him outside the maze. She was wearing a rather worn grey cloak that fell to her knees. She pulled a long thread from out of the embroidery at the hem, then reached to Kit’s jumper and pulled one out, ignoring his objection. She had a satchel across her body and took out a small spool of silver thread and broke off a long piece. She plaited the three strands together into a long thread, her fingers moving deftly like a spider testing a web. She tied a knot in each end then held it out.

‘Give me your wrist, I need to bind us together.’

‘Like hell you will,’ Kit said sharply. ‘You’re not putting any enchantment on me.’

She gave him a patient look. ‘It’s not an enchantment. We have to travel together, and we could become separated if we’re not careful. If that happens, you’ll never find your way backwards or forwards and you could end up taking a minute to travel or a year, or never get there at all.’

Kit’s mouth dried out. His face must have showed his apprehension because Miss Dove patted his shoulder in a comforting manner.

‘Don’t worry, that almost never happens and if we’re joined then whatever happens we’ll be together. As soon as we reach our destination, I’ll undo it.’

Cautiously, Kit extended his arm. Miss Dove took hold of his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze before tying the thread around his wrist. She did the same with the other end. Side by side they walked to the exit of the maze. Kit expected her to pause and ask if he was ready. To check that he truly wanted to go with her. Or tell him it wasn’t too late to turn back. She did none of those things and he was quite thankful for that, because he was not sure what his answer would have been.

‘Hold this,’ she instructed passing him a walnut. He held it in the palm of his hand and she took a short-bladed knife from her satchel and used it to cut down the grooves between the two halves of the shell and wiggled it. The two halves fell apart neater than Kit had ever managed to crack walnuts at Christmas, revealing the brain-like meat of the nut. Miss Dove took the two kernels and crushed them between her palms, murmuring words that Kit could not catch. She raised her palms and blew on them. The fragments of nut curved into the air and hung in an arc that ignored the law of gravity.

It was nearly midnight and the air was chilly but it began to shimmer as it did on a hot day when the heat haze rose. The greenery took on a luminescence, guiding Kit to where the exit emerged. His flesh crawled and his eyes began to smart with the wild urge to weep.

He was witnessing magic.

‘Let’s go,’ Miss Dove said briskly.

She linked her fingers between Kit’s and he was glad of the reassuring pressure grounding him. He blinked away the unshed tears and took a deep breath. Hand in hand, they walked forward into the maze.