Chapter 36
THIRTY-SIX
CAIRN
The room Kaelith leads me to is at the end of the hallway. Therin, Vel, Sorel, and Vessara are already inside, seated in the chairs scattered around. The fire is blazing in the hearth, and the table is covered in an assortment of food and drink. Kaelith takes a seat near to Vel. I remain standing.
Five of my Guard are in this room and two more are back at the camp.
Seven.
Seven out of the twelve that make up the Nightwild Guard.
At least one is dead. I know that as fact. The Nightwild magic wouldn’t be reaching for Alleria if there wasn’t an empty place in the Guard. It means that four are unaccounted for.
If they were free, I’d know it. I’d feel them the same way I felt Kaelith and the others pulling at me for days. They’re either collared somewhere, or they’re dead and the magic doesn’t know it yet.
I take a deep breath and turn to Kaelith. “Report.”
Kaelith straightens in his chair.
“After you told us to split, we headed south. We were ambushed by a human legion, and Vessara took an iron spear through her side. Somehow, we managed to escape. We came across a farmhouse. We thought we’d have to kill whoever was inside.” He pauses. “The female hid us in her cellar instead.”
“Her name was Elenor. She tended to my wound.” Vessara’s hand moves to her side.
“She said a fae had saved her mother’s life once, when she was child, and insisted that not all humans agreed with the war.
Her family, and some others had been hiding fae, and helping them find their way back to Underhill. ”
“Of course, after the Sealing, no one could return to Underhill.” Kaelith’s voice is flat. “But the network remained. Elenor’s descendants still live here. So do those of the other families. They’ve been sheltering fae ever since.”
“How many fae are here?”
“Thirty-two. Some have been here almost as long as we have. Others we’ve found and brought in as we can.
” He stands, and moves to the table, pulling a folded parchment from his jacket.
When he spreads it across the surface, it reveals a map.
A closer inspection shows me marks in red, black, and blue.
“These are sympathizer locations.” Kaelith points to one of the blue marks.
“There are eleven villages, like this one. The rest are single families or businesses. A farmer who doesn’t ask questions when someone shelters in one his barns overnight.
A wagon driver who takes passengers without looking too closely at them. ”
I lean forward, studying the map. “And these?”
“The black are preserves.” His finger moves over the parchment. “The Dell. Thornwood. Mirehollow. Blackbrook. And Ivylock.”
“What about the red lines?” I trace one of them with a finger, the path connects from The Dell to Mirehollow.
“Transport routes. They move fae between locations depending on demand. Auctions, transfers, special requests.” Kaelith’s voice tightens.
“The routes change seasonally, but the system remains the same. We watched for years, learned where the weak points are, and exploit them when we can. But it’s difficult to free fae that way. Too many guards bearing iron.”
My finger taps the mark indicating the Dell. “We were here.”
Kaelith’s eyes meet mine. “We heard that something happened there. But reports are jumbled. Some say there was a fae uprising. Others say that a single fae broke free and slaughtered everyone inside.”
“Both are true. I found an opportunity, and I took it. The Dell’s huntmaster and his men will not be harming another fae.” I stand and pour a goblet of wine. “If you are not attacking the transports, how do you free them?”
Kaelith exchanges a look with Sorel. I know that look. It’s the one both of them wear when they’ve done something stupid and they’re about to tell me about it.
“Our biggest concern is not letting humans know that fae are being freed. Attacking the transports would make it clear that we are here and a danger to them.”
I lift one eyebrow. “You’re stalling.”
“We have … contacts who can arrange for fae to go missing. And when that isn’t possible, we … buy them.”
The goblet stills halfway to my lips. “You. Buy. Them.”
“At auction. Through intermediaries.” He won’t meet my eyes. “It’s slower and expensive. But the fae we get that way are less likely to be hunted down which means they can be blended into one of the villages easily.”
They’re bidding on our own people like horses at market. Feeding gold into the same machine that keeps us collared. But I understand why they’ve done it. I’ve done worse things to survive.
“Where does the gold come from?”
Kaelith smiles. “We take it from the humans who take from us. Hunters who come too close, traders who deal in our kind. Their gold buys our people back. It seems fitting.”
“How many?”
“At least four hundred, maybe more. Once they recover, they often move on. Some stay here with us.” He pauses and a shadow crosses his face. “Some don’t survive. The iron …”
He doesn’t finish and I don’t ask him to. I know how iron can destroy a fae without killing them.
“Have you heard anything about the rest of the Guard?”
Kaelith shakes his head. “We hear things sometimes. Stories of fae who fight back. But we’ve never been able to get close enough to the preserves to confirm anything. Every fae we free, we ask. So far, nothing.”
I didn’t expect his answer to be anything different.
I look at the map spread across the table. Five preserves. Hundreds of fae, collared and caged.
“The reason we were at Therison Vale hasn’t changed.” My fingers drum on the tabletop. “And the order I gave when they Sealed away Underhill is still in effect. We survive until we find a way back.” I meet their eyes one by one. “But I’m done just surviving.”
“Meaning?” Vel asks.
“Meaning we free them all. Every fae in every preserve. If the Nightwild Guard is in one of them, we will find them … and then we will hunt.”
Silence greets my statement. Kaelith and Sorel exchange a look. Vessara is staring at me. Even Vel has gone quiet.
It’s Therin who breaks the quiet. His fist slams down onto the table, he throws back his head and laughs.
“It’s time for the humans to learn the difference between the Wild Hunt and the Nightwild Guard.”
“Where do we start?” Kaelith asks.
Vel studies the map. “The Dell was closest to the kingdom’s capital city. With that gone, Thornwood is the next nearest. I have no doubt they’ll have already sent riders to warn the Huntmaster there.”
“Ivylock is the most remote.” Kaelith points to the furthest black marker. “It’s harder to reach, which would work in our favor.”
“How do we get in?” Sorel asks. “How did you do it?”
“I did not lie down and die during the hunt like they expected. I took their precious Moirthalen and used her blood to get free.” I smile, thinking back to that day, remembering the taste of her blood on my tongue.
“I freed her and sent her back to the Dell, where I watched through her eyes, and learned what I needed. Then I slipped in and took them down from the inside.”
Sorel’s eyebrows rise. “What happened to her?”
“She’s the human traveling with us.” There’s a bite to Vel’s tone.
All three of them exchange a look, but they’re all smart enough not to ask. Vel opens her mouth, catches my eye, then closes it again.
I push back from the table. “We’ll continue this tomorrow. It’s been a long day, and we could all use some sleep.”
I’m at the door before Vessara intercepts me. “You tell us to rest, but you haven’t even touched the food.” She holds out a plate and a wine bottle.
My lips twitch. “Thank you, little sister.” I dip my head to press a kiss to her forehead, take her offerings, then leave them and head back along the hallway.
The fire is still burning when I step inside the room. Alleria is curled in one of the chairs by the hearth, her head tilted against the arm, eyes closed. But when the door clicks shut behind me, they fly open and she jumps to her feet.
“You drank my blood!”
I set the plate and bottle on the table. “Good evening to you too.”
“When you broke your collar. But I watched Therin and Vel break the collars on those fae from the wagon. They didn’t drink the guards’ blood. They just used it. But you drank mine.”
She must have been sitting here piecing it together, working through what she knows. A surge of unwilling appreciation goes through me.
Clever female.
I pull the cork from the bottle and pour myself a glass of wine, then take a slow sip.
“Answer me!”
I ignore her, tearing off a piece of bread to eat.
“I know you can hear me. Why did you drink my blood? What did it do?”
Turning, I look at her, taking another sip of wine.
Her face flushes. “Stop ignoring me.”
“I’m not ignoring you. I’m eating. Your question will still be there when I’m done.”
She makes a fascinating sound of frustration, somewhere between a growl and a scream, and for a moment I think she might actually throw something at me. Her eyes dart to the tray with the empty bowl and plate, then back to me.
“Go ahead. If it will make you feel better.”
Her fingers flex, but she doesn’t throw anything. She stands there, shaking with a fury she can’t hide, and doesn’t look away.
Interesting.
The Alleria I took from the palace would have crumbled by now. She would have begged or cried or retreated to a corner to wait until I deigned to speak to her. This one is angry. This one is demanding answers like she has a right to them.
I take another sip of wine and consider her over the rim.
“You’re different tonight.”
“Don’t change the subject.”
“I’m not. I’m making an observation.” I set the glass down. “Usually, when I walk into a room, you flinch. Tonight, you’re shouting at me.”
“You drank my blood! I think I’m entitled to shout.”
“Entitled.” I draw the word out. “That’s a dangerous word to use with me.”
Something flickers in her eyes. Fear, maybe. But she doesn’t back down. Her chin comes up instead.
“I want to know why.”
I let my gaze run over her. The firelight catches the copper in her hair, and throws shadows across her face. The pulse beating too fast in her throat gives away her fear. The tension in her shoulders tells me she’s ready to bolt. Not that she has anywhere to run to.
I’m curious what she might do next.
“Sit down.”
“No.”
“It wasn’t a request.”
“I don’t care.” Her voice shakes. “I’m not sitting down until you answer me.”
I could make her sit. I’ve done it before, and she knows it. She’s bracing for it, in fact. Waiting for me to cross the room, and force her into the chair.
But I don’t move.
“You’re either very brave or very stupid.”
“Maybe both.” The words are muttered under her breath.
The corner of my mouth twitches. “Maybe.”
I cross to the other chair and sit down. She stays where she is, fingers curled into fists at her sides.
“Sit down.” I meet her eyes. “I might indulge you, though. But not for nothing.”
“You owe me answers. You drank my blood.”
“I don’t owe you anything. But … you interest me.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means what it means.” I gesture to the chair across from me.
“Sit down, and we’ll trade truths. You can ask your questions, and I will answer honestly.
But then I will ask, and you will answer the same way.
” My lips curve. “A bargain, if you will. But be warned, fae bargains bind. Once you agree, you can’t take it back. ”
“And if I refuse?”
“Then you go to bed with your questions unanswered. The choice is yours.”
She stands there, tension in every line of her body. She wants to refuse. She doesn’t trust me. It’s clear in her expression. So I wait to see if that stubborn pride of hers will stop her from getting what she wants.
She moves to the chair across from me and sits, then lifts her chin.
“Fine. A truth for a truth.”