7. So, Apparently I’m The Chosen One
When I opened my eyes, the room was dark. Damn. So much for an hour.
Lying flat on my back on my obscenely comfortable bed, my bandaged hands and knees tingling gently, I mulled over everything that had happened. Though I no longer felt the urge to drop dead from exhaustion, the softness of my pillow and the warmth of the blanket held me captive. Just five more minutes, then I’d get up and escape the castle.
A tentative knock sounded at the door. I sat up, peering through the gloom.
“Yeah?”
The door cracked open, and for a minute, I thought it was Hyacinth’s head that popped into the room, beaming at me, but then I saw that the woman was younger, her skin a lighter shade of brown.
“Hello, I hope you weren’t sleeping?”
“No. Can I help you?”
The woman bounded into the room, clasping her hands before her. She was clad in the same fussy cut of dress as the other witches, though she had opted for a cheery shade of purple. “I can’t believe I’m looking at a real, live human! I never thought I’d see the day. My name’s Pansy, by the way.”
“Aliza.” I was in no mood to humour the human obsession, not unless it involved delivering me back to my own world.
“Are you feeling rested? Only, Granny is ready to receive you. I’ve been sent to escort you.” She spoke as though the news would thrill me, but I didn’t care one bit for a meeting with Granny, whoever the hell she was. Maybe this was it though, the plan to get me home.
Sighing, I slid off the bed, laying my bare feet on the cold tiles. Though Sage had applied a salve to the blisters, the thought of stuffing my feet back into those awful boots was too much. I hadn’t bothered to change into the too-short dress Hyacinth had laid out. The pink gown lay discarded over the upholstered bench at the end of my bed. It was clearly supposed to skim the calves, but on me I’d be lucky if it covered my knees. Granny would just have to see me as I was. At least the lingering dampness of my shorts had been driven away by a few hours traipsing through the wilds. I plucked up Jacques’ jacket, donning it as I padded to Pansy. The evening air carried a chill, but the sleeves were delightfully long, falling over my hands, hiding my bandages from view. I was grateful for the unlikely gift, and felt almost fondly towards the mysterious Jacques. I’d been convinced he was a murderer, but now, he seemed the least of my concerns.
“Lead the way.”
If Pansy had any thoughts of my bare legs and feet, she kept them to herself as she hurried along beside me. The witch was short, though her dark, spiralling curls, piled on top of her head in buns resembling mouse ears, gave the illusion of height.
“I should warn you,” Pansy said as we walked the corridors, “Granny can be a bit prickly, but don’t be intimidated.”
“Who exactly is she? I’ve heard three people call her Granny now.” And all of them were as different from the other as could be. I was no geneticist, but I wouldn’t have pinned such a collection as blood relatives.
“She’s not a real granny, not to most of us anyway. But that’s just what we call her, because she’s the High Priestess, and—” she dropped her voice to a whisper “—she is really old.”
Based on the conversations I’d had so far, I didn’t want to contemplate what old meant. If magic was real, it would surely be used to preserve life. Maybe there was a plant growing in Sage’s cottage garden that, when brewed at a full moon, produced the elixir of life. I blew a derisive huff out of my nose. What a lot of nonsense. This was shaping up to be a terrible concussion.
“How long do witches live?” I asked, giving in to my curiosity. If my damaged brain had concocted all of this, I was tempted to see how far it went before it unravelled completely. It was quite impressive, in a terrifying sort of way.
“It varies according to our power, but we all live a lot longer than humans. I’m the youngest witch here, I’m only two hundred and sixty-eight.”
God. Only two hundred and sixty-eight. She didn’t look a day over eighteen. I gave my thigh a sharp pinch with two lightly bandaged fingers. It stung, so I supposed I wasn’t dreaming. Isobel would kill to trade places with me, and I would certainly have no complaints. Still, I’d be home soon. All I had to do was convince this infamous High Priestess to escort me back to the caves. I’d simply present the facts and explain, in no uncertain terms, that I needed to get home immediately. Easy.
My new certainty stuttered as we came to a halt before a firmly closed door. A pair of silent, grim-faced women, no, witches, flanked it, but one nodded, eyeing me eagerly, and the door swung open of its own accord.
“Good luck,” Pansy whispered.
“What? You’re not coming with me?” I didn’t know why it mattered. I’d barely exchanged a word with the woman, but the thought of facing the infamous Granny alone turned my legs to jelly.
“I’m not important enough to listen to this conversation,” Pansy hissed, “but don’t worry! Just remember, you’re the human! You hold all the power.”
Was that cryptic nonsense supposed to calm me? I tried to swallow, but my throat was swollen and numb. My heart thudded against my ribs, but then I remembered that none of this actually concerned me. I was drifting through a dream, that was all. Sooner or later, I’d either wake up or die, and none of this would be a problem anymore. Soothed slightly, I squared my shoulders and donned my workplace persona, all calm authority and unhurried serenity, and strolled in as though it was my very own room in the surgery I would soon be working at.
My outward show of confidence and ease was exactly that. Outward. A group of witches waited at the far end of a large hall, all standing with stiff backs and raised noses as they judged my approach. Was it magic that made me feel like the smallest person in the room despite being the tallest by a foot, or was it only because I was at a distinct disadvantage, surrounded by extremely strange strangers, and far from my natural element?
My legs wobbled like jelly as they carried me across the vast, empty space. My numb feet passed over something dark. I dropped my eyes to the floor, where a large shape was depicted on the tiles. I stilled, my lips parting as I stared at my saviour.
A map.
So, it couldn’t fit in my pocket, but if I memorised it now, it would at least give me some vague sense of my surroundings, which was better than nothing. This was exactly what I needed. A way to point myself in the direction of home.
Enormous slabs of gleaming green crystal, maybe emerald, had been shaped and smoothed into tiles, showing a sprawling island. The map was edged in glittering gold grout which gave way to the dull, sand-coloured slabs making up the rest of the floor. I took a cautious step further. Yet more gold depicted mountains and rivers, and even what looked like border lines, weaving over the polished green surface.
I scanned the shape of the landmass. It wasn’t England, that much was certain. It wasn’t anywhere I’d ever noticed on an atlas, but I was no longer surprised by the unfamiliarity. I scanned the map for the rivers and mountains that had been the backdrop to my arrival, but there were too many to narrow down my location. And besides, as far as I could tell, I was miles away from where I’d started, thanks to Sage and her spooky crystal.
A small cough drew my attention back to the gaggle of witches, all watching me expectantly. Sage and Hyacinth were among them, as well as the one with chestnut eyes whose name I hadn’t learnt. She’d said my name was ‘quite pretty’. In the centre of the cluster, an enormous, throne-like armchair loomed, and perched atop its dated, floral upholstery was a little old lady.
Granny.
The High Priestess was as wrinkled as a Shar Pei, with white-streaked iron-grey hair arranged in a smart updo. One gnarled hand clutched the ornate handle of a walking stick, which she braced herself against, leaning forward to peer at me with watery, pale eyes. Her gaze travelled down to my bare feet, and back up again, her already lined face wrinkling further with disapproval. She blinked several times as she beheld my hair, then shifted with the awkwardness of great age, waving a frail hand at the group of witches clustered at her side.
“Sage, dear,” she said in a reedy but elegant voice, “come here.”
The blonde witch hastened to the old woman’s side at once. Granny peered up at her.
“Whatever is the matter with her hair?”
As easily as that, my nerves gave way to bristling indignation. My hair was always a topic of conversation with new people, and though I didn’t usually mind, the older generation laboured under the illusion that their opinions were facts to be freely shared. If I had a pound for every time a pensioner had explained how impractical my colours were, I’d have enough to… well, maybe not retire, but treat myself to a fancy meal at least.
Sage opened her mouth, but I answered for her. “It needs a wash and a brush, but I assume you’re referring to the colour. My name is Aliza, by the way. Not that you asked.”
Granny jolted, her mouth falling open in apparent shock that I’d dared to address her directly.
“We have never encountered a human with hair like yours before,” Sage interjected, but there was no hint of an apology in her voice, just cold, blunt facts. “The colour is… disconcerting.”
“It’s dye,” I sighed, my fighting spirit sapping away on that long breath. My shoulders sagged. What I’d give to be back in that enormous bed. No, back in my bed, at home, with a steaming cup of hot chocolate, mounds of whipped cream, and a heap of vegan marshmallows. “My natural colour is dark blonde.”
“And do all humans indulge in this newfangled dye?” Granny asked, speaking to me directly for the first time.
“A lot, yeah. Most have natural looking colours, but some of us prefer this.” I gestured wearily to my hair. Maybe my argument would have been easier to accept if my hair had been anything close to its usual magnificence. As it was, they were probably wondering why anyone would choose to look like a dog had mauled a stuffed unicorn and left it on top of their head.
“Mother above,” Granny muttered, in a tone much like I’d say good God. “Whatever will Prince Anwir make of her?”
Prince? Nobody had mentioned meeting any princes. This conversation wasn’t going at all the way I wanted. Was I going home, or not? I glanced over my shoulder at the beautiful map. My fingers twitched toward my pocket and the useless phone within. Even if I hadn’t needed to remember every river and valley, I would have liked to take a picture. It was a pretty thing, and if the tiles were really emerald, worth more than everything I owned.
Sage took a few brisk steps closer to me, her footsteps drawing my attention back. “Aliza, you mentioned returning to the human world.”
I was pretty sure I’d done more than mention it, but whatever. Finally, we could get on with the matter at hand. “I did.”
“Unfortunately, that will not be possible.”
“What?” Had I misheard? Was I being kidnapped? Were they going to chop me up and bake me into a pie? I stumbled back a step, putting distance between me and the little witch. She made no move to stop me. Could I make it to the door, and if I did, could I find my way out of the castle before the witches caught up to me? They only had little legs, but I was injured and, to be brutally honest, horribly unfit. “I have to.”
“The gateways linking Neath to the human world have been sealed on our side for centuries. Nobody can leave, not even you. That is, unless the curse is broken.”
“What curse?” Not this nonsense again? Curses weren’t real, but then again, neither were witches or fairies, and definitely not swirling portals of gaping darkness. I probed the tender lump at the back of my head, half-hoping the pain would wake me from my fever dream. The prod was sharp enough to make me wince, but the witches didn’t fade into nothing as I’d hoped.
“To understand it, you must understand our world.” Hyacinth approached slowly, her body language unthreatening, as though I was a cornered dog, primed to snap. She laid a light hand on my arm, steering me around to the tiled map. I shrugged out of her grasp, but followed on numb feet, my mind whirring. “The island you see depicted here is known as Neath. It is split into courts, all ruled over by one monarch. We are here, in Nairsgarth Castle–” she toed the south-eastern coastline “–which is located in the court of Ymyl Cefnfor. The fae king or queen, ruler of all Neath, resides in Tir o Haf.” She gestured to the western coast. “Several centuries ago, the true king died, a bloody coup followed, disrupting the succession. The throne should have passed to his eldest son.”
“Should have?” I asked. None of this mattered to me. It had all happened hundreds of years before I was born, and besides, I wasn’t even a part of this world, never mind this ancient drama. Even so, I hung on every word, storing away every scrap of information like a hamster stuffing its pouches. Somewhere amongst this rubbish there had to be a clue. A seemingly innocuous detail that would get me home, with or without the witches” help. “Are the princes dead, then?”
“No, child. The throne is imbued with primordial magic, ensuring it cannot be seized with violence.”
“There are no rules in place to prevent trickery, though,” Sage groused, as though whatever irked her was all Hyacinth’s doing.
“Indeed,” Hyacinth agreed, her voice oozing disapproval. “The late king’s brother, Maelgwyn, is a powerful warlock. He worked for his brother for the majority of his reign, but Maelgwyn was ever dissatisfied with his own abilities. With the king’s resources and blessing, he was able to push the boundaries and discover new, ever more… unnatural powers. All in the name of service to the crown. When the king died, Maelgwyn used these powers to trick the throne.”
“Tricked the–what? How can a throne be tricked?” Was she implying that a chair was sentient?
Before I had time to contemplate such an impossible claim further, Hyacinth continued her irrelevant tale. “He placed a curse of eternal sleep on his nephews. As they were physically unharmed, but subdued, the throne assumed them dead and passed to Maelgwyn.”
“Sucks to be them,” I muttered. “But what’s this got to do with me?” More importantly, how did it affect my going home?
Hyacinth turned a sympathetic smile on me. “There are gateways between our world and yours. That is how you arrived here. There was a time when humans and witches alike travelled freely between Neath and Earth, though your kind were not always receptive to ours. The Fae would even pay the occasional visit to Earth, though their magic is greatly weakened there. The gateways are called rifts, and they are scattered throughout the courts. After speaking with Sister Sage, we have determined that you arrived through the Blood Gate.”
“I did?” I scanned the map, searching for the name etched in gold. If I’d come that way, why couldn’t I depart that way too? I feigned curious innocence as I asked, “Where’s the Blood Gate?”
Nobody answered. Maybe I wasn’t as subtle as I liked to believe.
“An incredibly reckless choice,” Sage offered, as though I’d had any say in the matter. I suppressed a scowl, channelling my glare at the map. There were no words. Nothing to mark the Blood Gate, at least nothing I understood.
Hyacinth patted my arm. “Savage beasts roam those mountains. Let us just say you are exceptionally lucky that Sister Sage found a living woman, rather than a corpse.”
Maybe making a bid for The Blood Gate wasn’t such a good idea, or maybe… maybe I wasn’t as good a liar as I believed. Maybe the witches knew exactly what I planned to do and were trying to put me off. To frighten me.
Either way, that rift had brought me here, which meant it could take me home. I’d managed to get here well enough without anything eating me, there was no reason I couldn’t do it again.
Hyacinth continued her history lesson. “As powerful as Maelgwyn is, even he cannot cast a curse without a caveat. Everything must exist in balance. Just as you were wounded, nature provided the ingredients for Sister Sage to heal you. It is the same for all things, even magic. A curse cannot exist without a way to break it. It is said that only a human can wake the princes.”
The hairs on my arms rose to attention as a cold sense of foreboding settled over me. I was starting to see where this was going, and I didn’t like it one bit. I glanced at the door again. Somehow, it looked further away than ever.
Sage appeared at my elbow, glaring at the map as though it had been Maelgwyn’s accomplice. “I’m certain he thought himself both clever and amusing, choosing the most incompetent species in the realm. To make an already unlikely achievement all but impossible, Maelgwyn sealed the rifts. The human world is toxic to fae, weakening their powers greatly, and so your side of the gateways remain open, though I believe they go some way to repelling your kind. We, however, are trapped here. As are any hapless humans who stumble into Neath. Believe me, there have been many.”
A bubble of hope swelled in my chest. “Well, can’t one of them break the curse? Where are they?”
“Dead,” Sage said with all the emotion of a weatherwoman announcing yet more rain. My little bubble popped, skewered by her answer. “In the early days after the casting of the curse, Maelgwyn sent out beasts. Great monsters of his own creation. They hunted down and killed every human. None survived. For many a decade, humans continued to come to Neath, keen to break the curse and earn the reward, but they all failed. As time went on, fewer arrived until, eventually, they stopped.” She lifted her moss-green eyes to mine. “You are the first in over two and a half centuries.”
Bad. This was very bad. The worst.
“And certainly, the first to arrive completely unarmed with at least a vague idea of why they were here.” Sage spoke with a tone of distinct disapproval, as though I was somehow at fault.
I blinked, straightening my spine at the audacity. “None of this is why I’m here! I’m here because I took a wrong turn in a cave, that’s all.”
Sage levelled a cool glare at me. “So you say, girl, but why do you think you took the wrong turn? You are meant to be here.”
Sweat pricked between my shoulder blades. Nope. Absolutely not. I was meant to be at home, eating snacks and watching TV from under the safety of a fuzzy blanket. Breaking curses was for main characters in the shows I liked to watch, not for me. I was a boring, ordinary woman with a boring, ordinary life. I wouldn’t have it any other way.
“Don’t be stupid. What about all those other humans? The ones who died? Were they meant to be here too? Meant to die? I’m sorry, but there’s absolutely no way I’m getting myself killed trying to save some princes I’ve never even met.”
Their fate was definitely unfortunate, but there were worse things happening in the world. Not that I was cut out for dealing with those either, but still. Besides, for all anyone knew, they might be enjoying their nap. It would be rude to wake them.
Sage narrowed her eyes in assessment. “They were here because they chose to be. I knew many of them myself. The last one, Georgina, came of her own free will. She wanted to break the curse. Fate had no part in it. This is different.”
“It’s different because, unlike them, I’m going home.”
“You cannot.”
“I can.”
“Mother above,” Sage muttered, rolling her eyes. “I am not about to repeat myself, girl.”
“Aliza,” I snarled. “I have a name.”
“Yes, and I have a job to do. The curse must be broken, and like it or not, you will be the one to do it.”
“Why do you even care? You’re not a - a fae.” Truth be told, I wasn’t even sure what a fae was. The term rang a distant bell in the dusty corners of my memory, maybe from some fairytale my grandparents had read to me, but I couldn’t conjure an image of what, exactly, I was supposed to die to save. “What does it matter to you?”
“It matters to all the people of Neath, not only me.” The witch turned her attention back to the map, but Hyacinth stepped closer, offering me a gentle smile.
“As you know, without human men, witches face extinction, but that is not the worst of it.” She heaved a sigh, her smile fading into an expression of sorrow. “Maelgwyn has not been content these past centuries. He has the throne he coveted, he has his unnatural power, but it has not been enough to sate him into peace. In the years following his rise, Tir all but one fae kingdom fell to him. Since then, he has waged constant war against Tir o Gaeaf, the last court to stand between Maelgwyn and witch territory. If Gaeaf falls, we fall. There will be no free lands left in Neath, no free people.”
“Do his people suffer?” I asked, my voice soft, though I wasn’t sure I wanted to know the answer. It would only make turning my back on them harder. Ignorance was bliss, and yet, I asked anyway.
“Yes. Many have tried to flee.”
“Tried?”
“They died for their efforts. The immortals died when they crossed over Maelgwyn’s borders. Those that remain are enslaved or… used. The king is, for want of a better word, a scholar. He is hungry for knowledge. Knowledge he gains from the suffering of his people.”
An image of a dissection floated across my mind, unbidden and unwelcome, particularly as the humanoid subject, who resembled Pansy, was still breathing.
“Not only his people,” Sage grumbled. “His agents often prey on the free fae of Tir o Gaeaf. They come by night, moving through the shadows and spiriting children from their beds, never to be seen again.”
Despite my determination to remain unmoved, I shuddered. It was the stuff of nightmares. Every child’s irrational fear come true. The more I learnt of this world, the less inclined I was to stay. A place where the monsters under the bed were real was no place for… well, anyone, but least of all me.
“Witches have long been allies to the fae. They are our neighbours. Our friends. That is what it has to do with us. That is why you must break the curse.”
I shook my head, setting my bedraggled ponytail swaying. “I’m sorry, but you can’t expect me to die for your friends.”
“I expect no such thing. I expect you to live. Forever in fact.”
It took a long moment for Sage’s words to drudge into my brain. My brows knotted into a frown. “What?”
The witch smirked. “Why do you think your predecessors came willingly? There is a reward for breaking the curse, girl. You will become a queen. You will live forever.”