28. Door Number Three
“ W hat did you mean yesterday when you said that there’s less space in the human realm for the Fae?” Aisling broke the silence that had settled over the archive. She was seated crossed-legged on the ground amidst stacks of books.
Rodney looked up from the brittle, faded scroll he was attempting to decipher. “Just what I said. Your world is a lot smaller now than it used to be. There’s not a lot of room for magic anymore.”
“That’s sad,” she murmured. His lament, whether or not he meant it to be, was heart-wrenching. It made Aisling feel guilty too somehow. As though she alone was responsible for the world’s modernization, its ever-expanding cities and the destruction of forests and lakes and glens and everything else that was once wild and untamed. Her jaw clenched involuntarily when she thought of how hard she’d worked to push magic out of her own life once she felt she’d outgrown her mother’s stories.
But Rodney only shrugged. “Just means we have to be better at hiding. Have you found anything?”
“No.” Aisling brushed a strand of hair from her face and tipped her head back to lean against the shelf. “You?”
“The only thing I’ve learned is that I’m shit at languages. I thought I’d retained more.” He rolled the scroll carefully and set it aside on a pile of others he’d already scanned and discarded.
“For not having spoken it in 29 years, you remember more than I’d have expected.”
He huffed a short breath through his nose in response. “How much longer do you want to keep at this, anyway?”
“We should stay until our time is up. I don’t want to give up early and wonder later if we’d have found something if we had kept working.” Aisling pulled another book into her lap half-heartedly. Her neck was sore and her eyes were tired and her brain was overfull of utterly useless information.
She’d just set another book aside, frustrated, when a series of soft knocks startled them both. Aisling clambered to her feet, toppling over a waist-high tower of books in the process. She angled her body to hide their mess when she pulled the heavy door open.
“Can we have just a bit more time?” Aisling asked the sidhe. A large, ancient tome was nestled against her chest. It had been opened and closed so many times over the years that the black leather of the spine was cracked and split all the way down. She held it as though her arms were all that kept its pages together .
“You have awhile yet. Here.” If she was bothered by the array of books and papers scattered around the room, she didn’t show it as she placed the volume carefully in Aisling’s waiting arms. Then, still with that same serene demeanor, she further lowered her whisper-quiet voice. “You might find it useful; just be gentle with it.”
Aisling opened her mouth to ask what she meant, but she’d already pulled the door closed behind her. The click of the lock sounded sure and final.
“What is that?” Rodney leaned back in his chair to peer at the book Aisling now grasped carefully. “It’s massive.”
“I’m not sure. She said we might find it useful.” She returned to her seat on the floor with the book cracked open across her lap.
His face fell. “Shit Ash, you don’t think she’s heard us do you?”
“I don’t want to think about it if she did,” Aisling responded sharply. Her palms were sweaty at the mere thought; she didn’t need to voice the possibility out loud. Could that have been why Laure was suddenly unable to meet the day before? She bit down hard on the inside of her cheek until that concern quieted.
The book in her lap was hand-written in the dense, curling font of the Fae language. When Aisling ran a finger over it, she could feel the indentation of each letter in the paper. She began flipping through page after delicate page in search of illustrations she might be able to understand. There weren’t many, and certainly none that she would consider in any way useful.
Just as she began easing the book closed, a swath of heavy black ink caught her attention. She opened it again and carefully teased the loose page from the binding. The illustration, still as sharp and black as it was the day it was drawn, divided the page into equal thirds. At the bottom, indistinguishable forms writhed and lurked in heavy shadows beneath the soil and thick, twisting roots. The middle third depicted figures within the bark of the trees and surrounded by wildflowers in a lush forest clearing. The top of the page was filled in almost completely: the night sky, deep and dark. Beings floated there—whether one or more she couldn’t say; it was difficult to tell where one ended and another began. It—they—were cloaked in stars, angled as though they were gazing down at the forest below.
“Rodney?”
He hummed, nodding without glancing up from the book in front of him. Aisling stood, cradling the open tome, and carried it to the table. She laid it atop Rodney’s book and he cast her an irritated glare.
“I was in the middle of reading. What is this?” His brow furrowed and he leaned in closer to take in the tiny, intricate details of the illustration.
“I’m not sure exactly.” She ran a finger over the dark, star-speckled sky. “Is that meant to be Aethar?”
Rodney shook his head. “Aethar is only ever depicted as a being of light. She’d never be drawn in darkness like this.”
“Can you read any of the text?” she asked.
“Give me a minute, I’ll do my best.” He shooed her away. Impatient, Aisling moved around the table to pace back and forth. “Could you not?” Rodney demanded irritably after she’d made several passes .
Aisling rolled her eyes and instead pushed a stack of books out of the way and sat on the edge of the table. She gave him a minute. Then two. Then three. Finally, as she was about to ask him for a progress report, Rodney swore under his breath.
“What is it?” She hopped off the table and went back to hover at his shoulder.
“There were three courts. Look.” He pointed toward the bottom third. “This is the Unseelie Court.” He moved his finger up to the center. “This is the Seelie Court. And here at the top is the third court.”
“What do you mean? I’ve never heard of a third court.” Aisling was certainly no expert, but even in the human realm she’d been able to find mention of the Seelie and Unseelie Courts. They were few and far between and passed off always as myths, but they existed nonetheless.
“Neither have I,” Rodney admitted. “But this,” he underlined a bit of text with his thumb, “seems pretty clear.”
“What was it called?” She squinted at the letters as though a narrowed field of vision would somehow make them intelligible.
He scratched his head, thinking for a moment. “There aren’t really words in English to translate directly. The closest, I think, would be ‘the Silver Saints.’”
“The Silver Saints,” Aisling repeated. “They’re Fae? What else does it say about them?”
“They’re Fae, but old. Like old old. All this says is that they’ve not been seen since the early days when the courts were formed.” He flipped through several more pages, scanning for their name again, but came up empty.
“There was something the sidhe wanted us to find in there,” Aisling nodded at the book.
“It talks about them as though they’re legend.” Rodney lifted the page from the binding to examine it again, the tip of his nose almost brushing the paper, then said again, “I’ve never heard of them before.”
Aisling sighed, disappointment weighing down her shoulders. “So all we have is a pretty drawing and a Fae folktale.”
“Go on back to your pile, Ash. I’ll keep reading. We’re not out of time.” Rodney tried his best to sound upbeat, but he was losing faith and stamina just as quickly.
But they were out of time, very nearly. It was difficult to tell how much had passed before the sidhe returned; it felt like she’d only just left Aisling at the door with that ancient text in her arms. This time, Aisling watched the magic flare and fade as the sidhe locked the archives behind them. It stung her eyes, but it was beautiful.
“Have you found what you were looking for?” She asked, the same as she had the day before.
“I’m not sure,” Aisling answered truthfully. Dejectedly.
“I’d imagine you have.” Something deep and knowing was hidden in her sing-song tone.
“But—” Aisling’s protest was cut short when the sidhe left them at the bottom of the stairs in the nave.
Before she ascended, she turned back to say, “There is nothing left here for you to find. ”
The way she said it—sparkling eyes boring into Aisling’s, the finality in her tone—somehow settled the restlessness in her chest.
Wind battered the exterior of the palace, sighing and sighing. The unforeseen storm rolled in quickly; Rodney and Aisling barely made it back in time to avoid the rain that followed the clouds. Aisling had sensed it coming the moment they’d stepped out of Solanthis, the taste of petrichor thick in her mouth, but even she was surprised by its strength. The dark clouds seemed incongruous with the bright flowers and stark white of the palace as they rode up onto the lawn.
“Something has to keep the grass green,” Rodney commented. Aisling shivered, but not from the chill of the storm. It was the soft, almost inaudible growl of one of the manticores as they passed between that drew goosebumps down her arms.
Niamh met the pair in the foyer this time and made it clear that Laure was waiting for Aisling alone. Aisling sent Rodney off to take care of Briar and followed Niamh in the opposite direction.
Laure was seated on a plush armchair beside a small drawing table. She toyed with the hem of her lace sleeve idly. The room was full of flowers, some fresh-cut and arranged in vases and some growing out of the walls themselves. Butterflies flitted between them, alighting delicately on petals before taking back to the air. Aisling ran her tongue over her teeth; they itched when she imagined the little girl with the butterfly in her mouth.
A smile warmed Laure’s face when Aisling entered. Niamh remained stiffly by the door. “Sit with me, sweetling. I’ve been watching the storm. It’ll likely be the last of the season.”
The chair cradled Aisling’s sore muscles when she sat and a contented sigh escaped her lips involuntarily. The consistent thrum of fat raindrops slamming against the windowpanes was soothing; if she hadn’t been in the company of the Seelie Queen, Aisling could have closed her eyes and fallen asleep easily.
“How did you find our archives?” Laure asked, sitting back in her chair. It was the same soft shade of pink as her rosebud lips and the blush on her cheeks. Her long black waves were loose and hung over one shoulder.
“The books are beautifully kept,” Aisling said. “I hardly felt qualified to handle some of them.”
“We have some very old texts there. I must admit I haven’t read nearly as many as I’d like. Tea?” Laure offered a cup to Aisling, full to the brim and perched on a matching saucer. Aisling politely refused, unwilling to let her mind grow hazy in Laure’s presence. The queen was sharp; Aisling needed to be, too.
“You said that you wanted to discuss plans?” she prompted. Aisling watched Laure, her posture regal and commanding even while relaxed. A fire burned in her violet eyes, a determination that bordered on recklessness. It made Aisling uneasy.
“We’ve been waiting for you for a very long time, Red Woman.” Her smile turned conspiratorial. “ I have been waiting for you. This has all gone on for long enough; it must end now. The Unseelie Court must be brought down before they can destroy any more of Wyldraíocht than they already have.”
Aisling forced herself to return Laure’s smile, but the expression felt wrong on her lips. “What do you have in mind?”
“The rumors of your connection with Kael—are they true? You have some sort of influence over that wretched magic of his?”
In a bid to hide her reaction, Aisling leaned forward, stirring honey and cream into the cup of tea Laure had left for her and taking those few seconds to compose herself. To fix her mask. She thought about how Rodney might answer the question, or Kael: they’d dance around an answer without ever giving it forthright. Aisling did her best to respond as they would. “Rumors exaggerate. It’s true that his shadows didn’t kill me.” She straightened up and held the cup in her lap, then added, “But that’s where the connection ends. I can no more influence them than he can control them.”
Laure hummed. “That sounds at least powerful enough to distract him during battle.”
“If he were distracted by that connection, he’d be far easier to remove. Once he falls, his court will follow.” Niamh spoke from where she leaned against the doorframe, eyes filled with the same fire as Laure’s. Aisling could feel the predatory drive rolling off of her in waves. She wanted that kill for herself.
Aisling hesitated. “Has there not already been enough bloodshed? I can only imagine another battle would be detrimental to your court, as well.”
A subtle tension crept into the room. Laure’s smile faltered, wavered, then faded away to nothing. “Aisling, love, sometimes destruction is the surest way to creation. The Unseelie Court is a blight on our realm. We can only build the new once we dismantle the old.”
“Is there no way to broker peace without more death?” Aisling was pushing her luck. She felt it in the way Niamh’s eyes shot daggers into the back of her neck. She saw it in the way Laure’s face darkened. Her look of annoyance sharpened into one of anger.
“Diplomacy has failed us for centuries. Kael only understands strength, so we must be the ones to wield it.” Laure’s outstretched hand rested on the table and she began to drum a finger against it. Where the tip of her finger met the wood, a single vine curled into being. With each impatient tap, it grew, thickening and elongating. Reaching. “It is either him or me, and trust me: I am the one Wyldraíocht needs on the throne. He will drive it to ruin, just as he has his own court.”
Drawing in a steadying breath, Aisling willed the smile back to her face. Loosened her grip that had tightened around the handle of the teacup. Then, with what she hoped was a convincing look of acceptance, she nodded. “You know this war better than I do. I’ll do whatever I can to help you end it.”
“Thank you.” Laure nearly glowed with gratitude. “I know this is a challenging world you’ve been pulled into, but we’re going to make it so much better together.”
“I hope so,” Aisling said. She did her best not to recoil when Laure reached out and brushed the backs of her cool fingers over her cheek.
“I am truly sorry for what happened to your mother. Humans can be so cruel when they are afraid. There is a place for you here in my court, now and when this is all over. We will care for you here; you will be safe to live out the rest of your days amongst friends.”
“Thank you, Highness. I can’t imagine anything I’d like more.” Bile crept up the back of Aisling’s throat, bitter and stinging. Quickly, she gestured to the dust that still clung to her jeans from the ride. “If you’ll excuse me, I’d like to go get cleaned up.”
“Of course. We will leave the strategic planning to Niamh and her council. There’s no need for you to dirty your hands with the particulars.” Laure rose alongside Aisling and again closed the distance between them to smooth a hand over Aisling’s hair. “We are so grateful for you.”