Chapter 23 #2
She didn’t beg him to stay; no argument left her lips.
Verlin didn’t seem happy about any of their choices, but he, too, held his tongue as they crossed the courtyard for the horses.
Cillian watched Verlin approach Seamus, reaching up to cover the other Fae’s mouth with his hand.
He then kissed the back of it before pulling away, murmuring something in the Fae language Cillian didn’t understand.
“I thought they were mates?” Cillian said, curious at the strange way they said goodbye.
“Verlin is the Lord of Breath and Bone. His magic can steal the air from a person’s lungs with a single kiss. His mate is not exempt from that,” Niamh said.
Seamus pressed his and Verlin’s foreheads together with an intimacy that made Cillian feel as if he was spying on something sacred.
He turned away, busying himself with Niamh’s instructions on how to swing himself onto the gray horse they’d given him.
He was glad to see the animal wasn’t as large as the deer they’d seen before.
Its tack was fairly elaborate, all black leather inset with jewels at the connecting points.
The saddle was similar to an English one in style, and when Cillian swung himself up onto it, he was surprised that it fit him exactly and was comfortable.
How long that comfort would last remained to be seen.
The Fae had also found horses sized for Bran and Aisling.
While Bran looked a little uncomfortable in his, Aisling was excited, leaning forward to happily rub the horse’s neck.
Her horse tossed its head and whickered happily, keeping its hooves planted on the flagstone.
The Fae holding those reins spoke gently with Aisling, explaining how to issue orders to the horse using the reins and her knees.
She’d changed out of her gown into soft gray pants and a pale, rose-pink blouse.
Her knee-high dark brown boots would be good for riding.
“I will see you again, my prince,” Verlin said when he returned to Cillian’s side, a defiance in his tone that Cillian didn’t know how to address.
“Bran said time runs faster in our world than it does here. I’ll send Seamus back to you as quickly as we can. I don’t want either of you to be harmed by his absence,” Cillian said.
“Feel free to bring yourself with him.”
Verlin stepped back, bowed deeply, and retreated to where his mother stood across the courtyard.
Niamh called out an order, and everyone on horseback clattered toward the exit.
Once outside the castle, everyone ranged themselves down the road.
Seamus rode beside Aisling, with Bran trailing behind her.
Cillian was behind them both, and he wasn’t blind to the fact the three of them had been put in the middle of the group of armed Fae. He couldn’t find it comforting.
The ride to the forest was beautiful, at least. No pollution meant everything felt so much brighter, the color deeper everywhere he looked.
The flowers they passed were more vibrant and the trees larger than anything found in the forest he patrolled back in Pelham.
Cillian loved the outdoors, and part of him loved how the valley looked stretched out around them.
All that color faded when, hours later, the edges of the wyrding crept through the trees they rode through.
The temperature dropped, sunlight growing weaker as white fog drifted through the air.
Niamh whistled, drawing the attention of the lead rider.
Cillian recognized Tev from before. The Fae tossed his reins to the rider closest to him before dismounting and jogging away between trees, a dagger clutched in one hand.
The fog swallowed Tev up, and Cillian pulled on the reins to bring his horse to a stop.
“Will we need to follow the lights this time?” Cillian asked.
“No,” Niamh said.
“We didn’t come out here when we crossed over. Will we even end up back home?”
“There are only so many ways into the mortal world. We’ll take a shadow path back to the wyrding near Ainmire’s estate and slip through there.”
The last thing Cillian wanted to do was let Bran anywhere near Ainmire. “Will he know we’re in the wyrding?”
Niamh shook her head. “He shouldn’t unless he has scouts patrolling the wyrding, but the last thing he should think is we would return to where you first came through.”
Cillian could only hope that was true. When Tev returned with confirmation he’d found a shadow path in the wyrding, Niamh dismounted and gestured for Cillian to do the same.
Not everyone did so, and the small group who huddled with Tev at the front of the escort consisted of Cillian, Bran, Aisling, Niamh, and Seamus.
“The entrance is ahead, but there isn’t much coverage halfway to it. The light has moved on, but we should leave the horses behind,” Tev told Niamh.
“We’ll make the rest of the way on foot.
” She turned and gave out an order Cillian didn’t understand, but the gist of it was clear enough when all but two of their escort turned their horses back around.
At his curious look, Niamh nodded in their direction.
“They’ll return to the castle. A few will stay behind for when Tev returns. ”
“What about Seamus?” Cillian asked.
“I will stay with you until we retrieve the young lady’s voice,” Seamus said.
“Seamus knows his way through the shadow paths. He’ll be able to make his way home,” Niamh promised.
“You could always go with him,” Bran said as he raised an arm so Jupiter could fly down and land on it. He guided her to his shoulder and stroked her beak.
Niamh ignored him. “Let’s go.”
They trekked deeper into the wyrding, leaving behind all the warmth of the forested valley.
Cillian missed it with a depth that surprised him as the world became endlessly gray around them.
Bran kept Aisling close, holding her hand and never letting her go.
Cillian was never more than an arm’s length away from them both, always keeping them in his sights.
No one spoke in the hushed quiet of the eerie border between the Otherworld and the mortal world.
It was depressing, the way the wyrding sucked the life out of everything.
He thought about the argument in the dining room that morning and the accusations that made too much sense not to be true.
If the Fae and witches had been at war for centuries—maybe millennia—Cillian could see how they’d each fight to use such a horrible place against each other.
That didn’t make either side right, though.
This time, they steered clear of the lights as Tev led them to that first shadow path.
They left him behind and continued clawing their way through pitch-black holes buried in rot.
Niamh led them through shadow paths and the fog of the wyrding until they stumbled into a boneyard Cillian knew he’d never forget.
“Here,” he said into the eerie quiet. “We came through here.”
The standing stones were still present, bones scattered about and snapping underfoot as they walked toward the center.
Cillian breathed through his mouth from the stench of half-eaten, rotting bodies tossed around the clearing.
Niamh led the way, pausing outside the hole in the stone.
She crouched, picking something up from the ground.
Bran made a startled sound at the sight of the brilliant blue flower resting in the palm of her hands, the color shocking against the surrounding gray.
“Those were twined around Cernunnos’ antlers. ”
“It’s a sign he might have come through this way,” Niamh said, letting the flower fall back to the ground. She straightened, frowning at the way that would take them home.
“He may have left a trap on the other side,” Seamus said, unsheathing the sword from his back.
He wasn’t in full armor, but the cuirass and shoulder pauldrons he wore were matte black, making it easier to go unnoticed.
Cillian didn’t know if the knight had any magic or a title that would hint at a particular skill, but Niamh seemed to have no problem stepping aside.
Seamus went first through that nightmarish hole, and the rest of them had no choice but to follow. Cillian reached for Bran’s hand rather than the leash, holding on tight. Bran gave him a grimace of a smile, holding on to Aisling with his other hand. “Let’s go home.”
Cillian nodded. “Yeah.”
Clawing his way through the terrible dark of the shadow path connecting the Otherworld to the mortal world was just as stomach-churning as the first time.
Vertigo hit hard, making it impossible to find his center in that pitch-black space.
But Cillian kept moving, kept driving himself forward, never letting Bran go.
He didn’t know how long they were there until he stumbled over a rock, his hand sinking into bioluminescence.
Something soft gave beneath it, and he kept pushing, prying those weird mushrooms away.
He shoved his way forward into that hollowed-out tree they’d passed through what felt like a lifetime ago.
Cillian gasped, breathing in air that still smelled like rot, black sap smeared over his hand and arm, but beyond the broken-up tree trunk was a place he recognized.
He pitched his way toward it, dragging Bran and Aisling with him as they stumbled into a forest that looked like home.
The summer heat and humidity felt hotter than when they’d left for the Otherworld, and he wondered how much time had passed.
His stomach clenched with nausea, and it took a couple of hard swallows to steady it.
Seamus stood off to the side at the base of the hill, keeping an eye out as they all staggered away from the tree. Cillian strained his hearing, wincing when he accidentally set the pitch higher than a normal human’s would be. He shook his head, hoping his senses would settle, glad when they did.