Chapter 14
Cillian
‘Ugh.’ I roll over, agony radiating out from where she kicked me.
Fuck, I was utterly unprepared for that.
I didn’t even consider she’d have the strength, so it’s going to take me a few moments to recover.
As I wait for the pain to subside, I study my tattoos.
The serpent on my left wrist and the tattoo of Cernunnos on my chest were completed when I took over as head of my Kin – alongside the hunting horn on my other arm.
They mark a sign of leadership and power, and the pigmentation is so strong because it’s made from plants found only in the Underworld.
But why and how did the serpent embody like that? It’s never come alive before. And it certainly shouldn’t have been able to bite a human. But the way Niamh stared at it earlier, she definitely saw something, and that should just not be possible – unless she’s been consuming large quantities of—
‘Fuck,’ I mutter, realising she and Rose had been drinking all night and if Niamh has consumed large quantities of Stox, together with whatever drug – possibly one from the Underworld – that her attackers gave her, it might explain why the Guth Dorcha didn’t work, why she seems to be sensing more, seeing more, than I would expect a human to.
Or maybe I’m clutching at straws right now, trying to come up with reasons as to why she deserves to be saved.
She’s defying all my expectations, maybe she could have a chance.
Could I take her through to the Underworld, lead her to St Marnox and give her the words she needs to claim sanctuary?
By the time I’m back on my feet, Niamh has crossed the clearing and reached the edge of the forest on the opposite side.
She disappears into the dense treeline as I pick up my pace again, determined to find her once more.
There are thin places nearby, and Kinfolk only heard of in myths and legends are ready to trap and kill the unwary who wander through them and I’m now convinced that if any human is going to find one and be capable of stepping through, it’ll be Niamh.
As I run, I can’t stop thinking about the endless possibilities of what might happen to her. What if I’m too late?
I have to accept that there’s already a greater power guiding the events of tonight.
The white stag appearing just as I was making that final choice to shoot her was no coincidence.
Perfectly positioned in my eyeline, I had a clear shot, and I realise it could provide me with a heart to present to Vittoria if necessary.
Proof that I have followed through on the demands of being Huntsman and proving that I am worthy of becoming king.
My first priority, however, is to find her.
By the time I reach the point where she disappeared into the woods, a thick mist has descended, making it impossible for me to see more than a metre in front of me.
Despite my heightened hearing and sharp senses, the mist deadens any sound, too, making my progress much slower than I’d like.
Niamh saw the mist before I did, which concerns me.
As Huntsman I should always be one step ahead of my prey.
Her knowledge has given her power, something which I’m not comfortable with.
At least it’s now finally revealing itself to me, but Kinfolk magic is definitely protecting Niamh.
I take a deep breath in through my nose, close my eyes and let my senses guide me – my Kin have little in the way of actual magic beyond Glamour, the Guth Dorcha and the speed and strength of Cernunnos, but my tracking abilities in reading my surroundings will help me search for her.
After all, I have hunted in these woods more times than she has ever been here.
I have hunted all my life, been the Court’s Huntsman for almost a decade since my father’s untimely death.
This is the way I prefer to hunt – the prey I prefer to track down is exactly the one I’m after tonight.
Not deer or other wildlife. No, I prefer to leave them to go about their lives for the most part.
The chase that really appeals to me, that gives me pure satisfaction, is when my wits are pitted against another person, be they human or Kin.
And tonight, there’s the added dimension that I’m pursuing a woman I desire, a woman I’m sure will submit to me willingly the next time I catch her.
The mist grows thicker and thicker the deeper I go into the forest. I stop when I reach a fork, trying to decide which path to follow – both obscured by the mist. I take a step towards the left, but the coiled serpent inked around my wrist tightens.
I turn to the right and it relaxes, assuring me I’m heading in the right direction and that someone is definitely using Kinfolk magic to help Niamh escape.
A few steps further on, I can smell the slightest trace of her vanilla perfume and hear a whisper that might be her breath in the distance.
As I move ever closer to finding her, I’m reminded of Vittoria’s view that Niamh’s appearance in our lives marks the beginning of so much upheaval for us.
At first, I dismissed this as ridiculous, but now I’m wondering if she has a point.
Is there more to the situation than just the simple fact that she met my sister on her first day at university? The timing is certainly interesting.
I’ve always considered it to be Chris’s death that cemented my doubts about the Rialis’ rule and their increasingly selfish decision-making.
I believed Matt when he told me he was innocent, I just never understood why Chris would kill himself, although I do understand Vincenzo wanting to cover it up.
But now, I’m beginning to wonder if Vittoria is right, and it was meeting Niamh that triggered everything.
That something in that meeting was always destined to change the course of our lives?
But that’s ridiculous. She has no prior connection to the Kinfolk world. Aiden has double-checked.
But since that night, I have lost faith in Vincenzo’s rule and his lack of interest that something, possibly the Blight, is destroying the integrity of The Unseelie Court.
There’s been so many cases where justice fell in the Rialis’ favour for no apparent reason.
So many Kinfolk I’ve hunted down for reasons I didn’t agree with, my sense of duty to The Unseelie Court being stretched impossibly thin at times.
Maybe it’s more than a coincidence. Could there be something else at play?
This evening was supposed to have been about cementing the future of the Riali and Hunter families.
And what have I done instead? I’ve chased another woman – a human, no less – through woods bordering on the Underworld, and then managed to lose her.
But there’s Kinfolk magic on her side. Perhaps even enough to protect her from me, or from the Wild Hunt if she finds a way herself into the Underworld and to the sanctuary.
I take a few deep breaths, trying to make a decision.
I remember the way her necklace glowed, patterns reminiscent of Seelie magic forming on its surface.
I shake away the thoughts. It’s just wishful thinking.
If she was Kin, then I could marry her without giving up my role as Huntsman.
But Niamh is human – there is nothing to suggest otherwise.
Up ahead, I hear voices and speed up my steps.
In front of me, the mist has thickened even further and it’s clouding my senses, suffocating me.
Its source must be magical. Every step feels like I’m pushing through a barrier.
It doesn’t hurt, but I don’t feel good doing it.
I stop for a moment and turn around. Behind me, the mist is clearing, the earthen path appears more visible, the tree roots separate to form a route away from the overgrown, dense vegetation I’ve been pushing my way through.
Letting out a frustrated growl, I turn around and force myself through the mist, determined that it won’t stop me reaching my prize.
And then the atmosphere around me changes, the mist still there, still solid but ahead of me I can see the faint shimmer of a thin place.
I pause, trying to work out whether to go through or not, but if Niamh has, I need to follow.
I place my hands on the shimmering doorway and pass through.
Almost too late, I hear the sound of running water and pull up short on the bank of a stream.
In front of me is a shallow fording point, the only visible way to cross.
‘You’re a stubborn man,’ a female voice says. ‘But you’ll want to watch your feet.’
I take a step back as an old woman appears in front of me, as if formed from the mist itself. She’s seated next to the ford, on the other side of the stream, a basket full of washing and a large wooden basin beside her. I know her.
‘Careful now,’ the Bean Nighe warns, flapping a large white sheet.
She has an old worn plaid shawl draped around her head and shoulders, leaving her arms bare to do her washing.
Panic claws at my throat as I consider what might have happened to Niamh if she passed by this washerwoman – the Bean Nighe, the washerwoman of death.
‘Where is she?’
‘Gone.’
My heart stutters in my chest.
‘Gone?’
The Bean Nighe looks up at me and smiles, a dark and menacing toothless grin that sends a chill down my spine. ‘Ah, well, that’s unexpected.’
‘What?’
‘You’re concerned whether the Whyte girl got herself wrapped up in my sheets aren’t you? Odd when you brought her out here to kill her.’
‘Did I?’ Why am I putting my motives in doubt?
The old woman might be Kin, but she’s nothing like me.
She’s from a world beyond the Underworld.
A world reached only through death. She knows more about how The Unseelie Court functions than I can ever hope to, and if she passes on the fact that I wasn’t going to do my duty—