16. Chapter 16
Chapter 16
S even more magical surgeries and three weeks passed. I did not see The Raven again.
The first week, I had stewed in my anger. By the second week, Violet had finally worked up enough pluck to ask me why I was staring at the storeroom door like I wanted to set it on fire. And I’d told her. The crunching of porcelain that was her laugh rolled through the storeroom and made me smirk despite myself.
The next day, she regaled me with the tale of her confronting The Raven while he was busy getting his face beaten in the bailey. She’d asked him if he was spitting up blood like that because he was trying to remember a task. She said he thought she had come as a matchmaker between herself and the Daughter of Dúluachair, who was her current mistress. How she’d chastised him for being so stupid and reminded him of his debt to me.
The first time I had darted anywhere on my newly healed legs was to the wash bin across the room, when I had woken up to a dozen dripping bloodied fleshy roses in a stunning glasswork vase on the tiny stool next to my platform.
The note read A beautiful liar, but my debt is paid nonetheless . An R had been inscribed and then crossed out with a larger E over it.
My grisly prize now lay in some midden heap Green Man had been all too pleased to locate for their final resting place. He was even more delighted to tell me that, in Human, he had been a farmer and could tell me with certainty that the flesh was not that of the pudgy man who had been my landlord but boar skin from the betrothal feast that had been held for one of the newly announced couples.
I was sponging myself down from a bucket of stale water when I heard the knock at the storeroom door. As my injuries had healed, I had started to be afforded a certain modicum of privacy. It was strange knowing that, the moment I would leave this temple, I would, once more, be worth no basic civilities.
The Bandrui was insistent upon them, though, stating simply that in her temple she made the rules and hospitality was paramount in this time of unbalance.
I still wasn’t entirely sure about what unbalance there was, but I had learned enough about the state of her faith to know not to question her need for hospitality to be observed when and where she could enforce it.
This was one of those times.
I settled the simple white muslin shift that I had been given back down around my damp legs. “Please enter, Bandrui.”
She waited the prescribed ten seconds that her version of hospitality dictated while I wrung out the ridiculous length of my hair out into the pail.
“Ah, you are up and about already, Cricket. I am so pleased to see how well you have healed.” She set a simple carved wooden charger with a crusty heel of fresh steaming bread, a healthy hunk of cheese, and two Fae fruits called milúll I had come to love.
They had the satisfying crunch of a good apple but the sweet and tart taste of something like a blackberry dipped in honey, and under the lush flavor was an almost creaminess. The fruit had a shifting opalescent skin, and inside was the darkest wine purple flesh that dripped with juice.
The Bandrui had explained that The Great Wolf of Spring, Faolán, had crafted them from pure magic before he ascended, as a gift to the previous patron god of Bláth an Earraigh to resemble a dessert that the god had longed for from his travels through Human. Since then, their seeds had borne these fruits, and they had become the favorite fruit of the Fae .
She was vague about the details when I had asked questions, but my first taste of the milúll had cemented in me a cautious appreciation for the Fae’s tastes. It was heaven on the tongue, tart, sweet, creamy, crunchy, and when paired with the cheese, it was slightly salty. I could live off just this for the rest of eternity and die fat and happy.
“Thank you so much, Bandrui.” I breathed with delight as she set the charger down on the table where I had been washing myself. I lowered myself onto a stool as she did the same and began slicing the milúll into glistening juicy wedges. “I’m famished!”
“Have you been doing the exercises the drui of Ailbhe prescribed?” She lofted her brows like a concerned mother as she sliced portions into the cheese.
She would leave the bread for me. The crusty loaves she made in the Temple were almost as delicious as the fruits, and its tough, crumbly, crunchy heel had become my absolute favorite. Back in Human, I had craved sweets and meat all the time. But here, in Magh Meall, I found myself longing for the soul-soothing warmth of a priestess’s bread and to slurp the juices of a strange alien fruit. I hadn’t had a single piece of meat the entire time I had been here and felt no longings for it at all.
“Twice a day, every day before first meal and twice a day after last meal. Without fail,” I promised.
“Good, eat up, then.” She passed the simple fare to the center of the table and poured the two of us crystal-clear water from the pitcher by my stone bed. “We need to speak about what happens next, Cricket.”
Her soft words meant to be feathers to my nerves fell like anvils. I had heard those words in hundreds of different mutations and voices. They would never bode well.
I set the rich wine purple slice down, abandoning the bite I’d almost taken. I let a deep breath draw into my lungs and fortify me for what came next. I had no idea exactly what this conversation would lead to, but those words had never started anything good in my experience.
She was quiet, watching me, as if to gauge when the best time to start was. The Bandrui was an excellent read on people. I had learned she could tell from the smallest expression what mood I was in, and this extended to the others as well .
I had not met many Fae in my months in their world, but the Bandrui of the Temple of the Ascended was the only one I would say was a genuinely good person. She was a blade. When wielded with care and time, she could create masterpieces. When she wished to, she could destroy anything in her path. Nothing was safe from her, and here, in her domain, she was the ultimate power.
“Very well, Bandrui,” I murmured, giving her permission to carry on when my nerves had been girded in steel.
“As you probably know, you cannot stay here forever. As much as we enjoy your company and quick wit, we do not normally allow humans, even if altered, in the temple. It is a sacred space for Fae only.”
One thing I loved about the Bandrui was that she was careful never to call the humans in Magh Meall, daora. I had remarked on it once, and she had merely shrugged and said that, when the matriarchs of this realm brought the first humans, they were guests, and hospitality dictated that you never treat a guest poorly. The way she saw it, all humans were still guests, and in her domain, they would be treated as such.
“Which means you must return to the palace and to the warrens.”
I had expected this. Every day that I recovered and regained movement and strength, I knew was one day closer to me having to return to the nightmare that was the palace of the Ard Rí.
“I’m sure this is not a surprise to you,” she pushed on before sipping her water mildly. “The only true question would be in what capacity you would be returning. I hope you know, Cricket, that I truly wish I could alter your path. I have done my best to do so, but I cannot alter that which is dictated by powers stronger than my own. You deserve better than what will come.”
I remained silent, watching her as she placed a rope filled with beads on the table between us. It was decorated with the brass stars I had begun to collect, appearing every morning near my pillow, which were interspersed with a roughly carved wooden closed fist.
Her finger traced the wooden fist, and I watched it as she continued. “These are favors. A concept we, uh . . . borrowed, from your people. Each one represents a small speck of stable magic tied to the one that is gifting it to you. They are not very powerful—barely enough to light a candle, really—but they are stable and can be used to either send a message to the one who issued it or to summon them. I cannot protect you beyond these walls, but I can intervene in some affairs. Should you need me and the situation is dire, call on me. I cannot promise that I will be able to solve whatever issue you are facing, but I can promise that I will come.”
She pushed the beads toward me. “Hide these. Show no one. The same with your others. Never let any of the other humans know that you have them. No matter how much you trust them. They are never to be seen by any others. Do you understand, Cricket? No one else. Swear to magic on your true name that you will always guard these favors to the best of your ability.”
I let my hand fold over them and pull them toward me, whispering my oath to magic as she had taught me but in a voice that made a whisper sound like a bellow, “I, Sóna Mac Raith, swear to protect these favors for the rest of my days to the best of my ability while they still hold the stable magic of another.”
She had taught me that oaths to magic must be specific. Always include a specification of what you are promising and an end. Never leave an oath open and hanging. Never swear to magic or on your true name unless it is something you can keep. There is no wiggle room. The only truth a Fae tells is in the oaths they swear on their true names. Magic listens, waits. It is the perfect ally and the perfect predator to human and Fae alike.
When I was done, I tucked the beads under my chemise. Static electricity clung to my body, the sensation becoming familiar, the living magic that permeated every molecule of existence in this world, gathering close to witness my oath.
“Good. Now, as I was saying, you are to return to the palace tomorrow.” I moved to open my mouth to interrupt her and was given a scolding look. Hospitality dictated that she not be interrupted, so I snapped my mouth closed on my protesting question, and she forged onward. “We were not able to remove you from the King’s service for his crimes against you. But we were able to move you from his bed to his chambers.”
“So, I’m to continue to be his whore?”
The acid in my tone could have melted a continent.
“No. It seems his tantrum over your skills was able to be manipulated into his agreement never to sexually assault you again. Though, should you wish to enter his bed willingly, he will not be held back. You will serve as his chamber maid, however. No amount of convincing would dissuade him. I’m sorry, Cricket. I had hoped that perhaps we could have you stationed in the kitchens. They are not far from the temple, and I would have been able to keep a better eye on you, but it was not possible.”
I took a deep breath. So, I would be forced to see that bastard every day for the rest of my life, however long that would be. Or at least until I figured out a way out of here. And I would be getting the fuck out of here. Even if I had to take the Final Destination exit, I was getting the fuck out of Magh Meall. I would not be a pointy-eared daoire for eternity. But until that plan manifested into a solid one, I’d be patient and watch and learn.
“I guess that’s better than having to serve him on my back. His dick is weird. Are all Fae dicks that weird? Or is he special?”
The Bandrui broke into a musical laughter that filled the storeroom. “I cannot say I have had the displeasure of seeing His Majesty’s cock, but from what I hear from the courtiers, he is not especially gifted in any manner or way. Shame upon Bláth an Earraigh.”
“Tomorrow, then?”
“Tomorrow.”
“I know you said that humans don’t belong in the Temple of the Ascended, but”—I fiddled with the piece of milúll closest to me—“would it be possible for you to show me the temple? I’m curious to see the faces of your gods. You speak about them as if they are alive and familiar, like they might pop in for lunch sometime. I’ve never met someone who talks about their gods like that. I’d like to see what they look like. ”
She curled a secretive smile over the rim of her water glass. “If you wish to meet the gods of Magh Meall, I can introduce you to them.”
I suspected from the way she watched me that I had asked something she had not only expected but had been waiting for. It was a peculiar feeling to feel like you had walked into someone else’s plotting. But there I was, sitting exactly where she wanted me all along.
I leaned back, watching her gloat as she snacked on the rich cheese, crossing my arms. “How long?”
“Hmm?”
“How long have you been waiting for me to ask to meet the gods? Since you seem oh so pleased with the fact I did.”
“Mmmm, well, I had hoped you would call out for your own deity at first. I’ve always hoped to get a true believer of a human into our realm. To be honest, I had hoped you would be one. At first, at least. But after knowing you a little, I had hoped telling you tales about them would pique your interest in a particular one and I would be able to use your devotion as a means to convince the Ard Tiarna of that gods patronage to take on your name, to get you away from His Majesty. When you failed to do that, I hoped that you would show some sign of interest in them so that I might tutor you in their ways. Perhaps knowing them would give you some comfort in the ways of the Fae. Truly, though, it was selfish. I’m an old woman who loves the sound of her own voice and having dedicated my life to the Temple of the Ascended, means that I love telling the stories of my friends and gods.”
I listened quietly as the Fae laid out the twists of her plans for me. These were the most innocent of the intentions that would come from a Fae, but I enjoyed seeing how the Fae mind worked. There was always an angle, always a next step, always a backup plan.
When she called herself an old woman, I made a show of lifting one of my brows and letting my gaze slowly move over her. If this is what an old Fae looked like, I might get on my knees to their gods and pray to be transformed into one.
She was tall, slender, and willowy. Her hair was the deepest red-orange I had ever seen, like autumn-kissed oak leaves falling in a myriad of braids adorned with metal cuffs and chips of flashing stones, cascading down her back to behind her knees. Her ears were pointed, decorated with a wash of gold paint at the tips and studded with metal rings and polished ivory bone.
The Bandrui was a creature of ethereal beauty with a kiss of a suntan and a spray of freckles across the center of her face. Her nose had a ring of gold drawn through it. Her lips were almost always stained in the middle from milúll or blackberries, which were her other favorite. She wore a snowy pale-blue tunic-style gown over her toned youthful body embroidered with creeping blackberry bushes and the occasional spiral. On each one of her slender fingers was a collection of boar ivory rings with sigils carved and stained into them.
If someone had asked me to describe an elf, back in Human, I probably would have come up with something akin to the Bandrui. I would have never come up with something so beautiful, though. If Violet had told me the Bandrui was one of their goddesses, I would have easily believed it. She was radiant both in personality and appearance.
She laughed at my slow appraisal of her. “Look all you wish, Cricket. You will find that Fae do not age the way humans expect. Some of us not at all.”
“That must be uncomfortable for your mothers. Or will you next tell me you are born from eggs like dragons?”
“Dragons give birth to live younglings,” she snapped, as if disappointed in me.
“What.”
“Dragons. They give birth to their children like humans and Fae.”
“No, no. Sure, they give live birth. I understand what that means. But you’re saying that like you’ve seen it.”
“Several times.”
“Dragons are real.”
“As real as you or I. Why does that shock you?”
“You know. That’s a good question. I don’t know why that shocks me. Of course they’re real. Of course. Stupid Cricket.” I paused in my unhinged tirade. “Wait . . . dragons are real. Does that mean I could ride a dragon?”
“I wouldn’t recommend it. Not only are they notoriously picky about their lovers but are also notoriously well hung. I imagine that you’d need a lot more practice if you can’t even please an unremarkable lover like His Majesty.” Amusement sparkled in her eyes as she sipped her water and teased me.
“No, I didn’t mean like that. I mean maybe I did. I mean, no! Dammit, Bandrui!”
“Look at you, Cricket, all flushed and stammering at the idea of riding a dragon. I would be as well. I haven’t had the pleasure myself, but one of the drui in the temple has, and when she speaks of it, it’s like she falls into an ecstatic trance. You know, I could introduce you to her. Perhaps she will introduce you to her once-lover. Perhaps he will let you take a ride.”
“Listen here, devil woman. If you don’t shut up about shoving dragon dick in me, I’m going to scream.”
“I imagine you’d be doing quite a lot of screaming.”
Her tone remained soft, placating, pleasant, and like she was discussing the temperature of tea instead of being railed by a dragon.
“You suck.” I deflated under her teasing.
“Indeed, I do, better than you.” She winked and dusted her hands clean of the conversation. “Anyway, yes, I will introduce you to the gods, Cricket. As best I can. And if you connect with one, I will give you leave to carry one of their tokens with you back to the warrens. Though I would caution you that some of the other humans may not appreciate your worship. Finish your meal, and when the others have gone to their beds, I will come get you and introduce you to them.”
I smirked at her.
It was comforting to be able to settle into playful banter with someone who did not set me ablaze with anger and yet could play me just as well as I played others.
She rose gracefully from the small, improvised table, smiled dotingly at me, and then took her leave. Leaving me with my thoughts, which wandered far too often to what a dragon’s dick would look like or what a dragon’s pussy would taste like.