TWENTY-SEVEN
brYNDIS ASHGLO
While the juniper plant itself symbolises fertility, its berries are used in spells of luck. Wear juniper berries in pouches stitched to your clothes, or string them like beads around your arm or neck for protection against ill fortune.
The Herbal Healer’s Handbook, by Agnes O’Connell
The air is thin and crisp, and with each breath, a chill seeps into my lungs.
I wrap my cloak tighter around myself, covering my nose with its thick mustard-yellow wool.
The valley below seems like an abyss, its depths shrouded in darkness, with the occasional glimmer of moonlight reflecting off the distant river.
On the far end of the valley is an encampment surrounded in a blanket of mist. Flickers of firelight contrast the darkness as distant laughter echoes through the valley.
“Where are we?” I ask Aed.
“We are standing on the mountain range of Eldercliff, off the border of the Fómhar Court, still within Samhradh’s territory.”
Despite the freezing conditions, I’m the only one bundled up to ward off the cold. The biting chill doesn’t seem to bother the others, which makes me glare at them while I hide my human frailty as best I can. Unlike back home, I’m vulnerable and without the remedies I use to treat my weak lungs.
“How many do you count?” Sloan rumbles at my side.
“Three hundred. Five hundred, perhaps.” Behind me, I hear Odhran’s even-toned response. “But if you believe this to be the full force of their army, you’d be wrong.”
“Army?” I turn to face him, my heart beating in my throat.
“You thought this trip was just for the scenery?” Aed mocks. I don’t know what I was thinking, but I wasn’t expecting an army.
Odhran meets my gaze. “Yes, an army,” he confirms. “They’re from the Autumn Court, Fómhar.
Their allegiance to King Darragh is uncertain, given the upcoming coronation of a new king.
It’s been fragile for many years. This force only serves as reconnaissance, according to Sheridan, testing the waters before diving in headfirst. All they’re waiting for is opportunity. ”
“Sheridan is a spy, and from all I have gathered, a very good one.”
“Does the king know?” I ask, hearing a muffled laugh from Sloan, followed by a thud, which I can only assume to be a reprimanding slap from Eadan.
“Only if we report it, which we won’t,” Sloan adds, clearing his throat to control his amusement at the lack of my understanding. Hell, if I were close enough, and comfortable enough around them all, I’d slap him too.
“Why not? Why won’t you report them?” My mind races, trying to comprehend the magnitude of the situation. I glance at the others in our group, searching for an answer that will make sense, but their faces betray nothing.
Sloan, the warrior with a scarred cheek and shoulder-length auburn hair, takes a step towards me. “Because an enemy’s enemy is a friend, is it not?” His voice is filled with conviction. “This one just needs to know we are a friend and not the enemy. Easy.” He shrugs a shoulder.
I take a deep breath, trying to steady my nerves.
“So, if you want to let them know we are a friend while they plan to march on Samhradh, that would imply that the Samhradh Court is your enemy, too. Am I right?” I look toward each of them, but none correct me, proving my calculation correct.
Odhran and his friends harbour animosity towards the court they’re serving.
“What’s the plan?” I ask, closing my hands into fists beneath my cloak.
There has to be a plan. “Surely you aren’t just going to march in there? ”
“Each day serving Darragh is a day too long. I plan to do what any responsible person would, try to settle off the battlefield first by making Eamon’s enemy my ally.
If we can join forces, we’ll be too strong to oppose without sacrifice.
We’ll be free,” Odhran explains firmly, his gaze unwavering.
There’s a long pause, filled by the sound of the wind against the side of my face.
“Why do you look so surprised? Did you think me too monstrous to want something as basic as freedom alone? We are more alike than you think, Slìbhìn.”
“Don’t be an ass.” I narrow my eyes at him.
“I’m hurt.” He places a hand over his heart in a sarcastic gesture, his expression remaining as hard as stone.
Aed huffs a laugh. “It is a foolish mission.”
“Shut up,” I snap. This particular situation doesn’t require his input.
“And how do you propose we do that?” Eadan asks, turning to face us, her voice tinged with scepticism.
Odhran’s eyes narrow as he replies, “By initiating negotiations with King Brogan. We must address the issue of unfair trade that’s plagued the Fómhar Court.
For too long, Samhradh has placed extravagant tithes on them to ensure peace.
For too long, they’ve been obligated to enroll their best soldiers into Darragh’s army with limited resources exchanged in return.
They’re dwindling in numbers, and those left are slowly starving.
This is our way in. Their people deserve better living conditions. ”
“They don’t deserve fair trade,” she says with venom in her tone.
“This is a completely unique situation. You know it.” Odhran’s words vibrate at the back of my skull. He stands so close that I can feel his warmth radiate behind me.
Eadan crosses her arms, contemplating his words. “So this is the ally you have in mind? What if they refuse to cooperate? What if they see our attempts as a sign of weakness? A sign of desperation?”
Odhran’s expression hardens. “Then, and only then, should we consider resorting to force. We must exhaust all peaceful options before risking the lives of our battalions. King Darragh will postpone the coronation if he senses war approaching. We can all agree that is something neither of us wants.”
“So peace is not for the sake of saving lives. It’s only to fool Darragh into handing the crown to his son.”
Aed’s laugher is cruel and boisterous. “You thought the bastard prince cared about saving lives?”
Silence settles between them, the weight of their words hanging in the air. Finally, Eadan nods. “I hope you’re right, Odhran.”
“I believe this is the best course of action for both courts and all those affected.” Odhran lets out a breath, and the energy around us shifts.
“And what role do you expect me to play?” I ask, clearing my throat.
“I expect you to do what humans do best. Lie.” Odhran’s expression is sombre.
“The Unseelie Courts, Fómhar and Geimhreadh, thrive more on cruelty than the Seelie Courts of Samhradh and Earrach. You’re here to testify to my cruelty.
Lie and tell them that my friends are only so by pretence.
Pretend to be my pet and bloodmaid if needed.
Anything to confirm that we belong among them. ”
I want to tell him to go to hell. That I’m not his to play with. That I’m nobody’s possession, but I swallow my apprehension and follow after them in silence. We prepare to descend from the mountain peak, and I tighten my grip on my cloak.
“We will stay in the small lodge to the north. The one where Sloan got his ass kicked a few years ago. The Shadowed Cauldron. Their general will seek us out as soon as they’re ready.
You go ahead. We’ll find our own way there.
We recoup at sunset.” Odhran looks at me as he addresses those in our company, as if reading the signs of my growing scepticism.
No one says a word as they disappear into thin air, one by one, leaving soft snow to twist in small whirlwinds in their wake.
I find myself envious of their gift to tesser.
A term Aed had clarified after I’d killed the faerie.
A gift to travel across the realm in a blink of an eye. The places I’d go…
“You know it is not entirely impossible,” Aed adds, his voice barely audible amidst the whistling of wind in my ears.
Odhran stares into my eyes. For a fleeting moment, I wonder…
can he sense Aed’s presence? Does he know about the conversations unfolding in my mind?
My heart races, my palms slightly damp with anticipation as I await Odhran’s response.
“I have something to show you,” Odhran whispers, leaning closer. “Do you trust me?”
For a long moment, I only stare back at him, my heart racing in my chest.
Logic and reason scream for me to resist. He’s a monster.
He reaped my sister. He’s keeping me as a forced guest in his home.
He’s everything I should hate. I know I should assert myself, demand respect, and voice my doubts about placing my trust in him, but I know he has no intention of hurting me.
“Yes,” I finally breathe, not fully trusting my answer as truth, but wishing for it to be. He smiles, and the whistling of wings and wind slice through the night as we leave the mountain behind us.