Siofra was completely alone in a netherworld of exotic fey on an unknown path in utter darkness. It rushed at her like a deep weight and caved in on her. What did she do? She couldn’t see her hand or her fingers. If she moved even an inch, she might leave the path. Her breaths came shallow and rapid as she realized the depths of her predicament.
Oh Lord, what do I do?
Even now, Lysander was probably looking for her or trying to give her light. Should she call out? The last time she had tried talking to him, she’d been overheard by that satyr.
Her stomach rumbled, and she clutched it. Yes, she should eat. Could she find her food and water in the dark?
Siofra sank to the ground and spread the satchel across her lap. Once she’d found the food and water, she ate slowly. Darkness did not make for an enjoyable meal.
When a hand gripped her shoulder, she screamed, violently twisting away.
“Siofra!”
It was Lysander. He dropped beside her and held her tightly. And the light! Oh, the light to see again. She could have wept all over him, but she’d cried enough today. “Where have you been?”
“I was here, but separated by a veil. Then suddenly, I wasn’t.” He patted her hand. “Let me help you gather your belongings.”
When Siofra looked at the ground, she saw her rolls had scattered. They replaced her foodstuffs in the wrappers, and she paused to take a drink. If he’d been there the entire time, he probably heard her insane mutterings about him. Better to ignore it entirely.
He lifted her, then captured her hand tightly, as if, this time, he wouldn’t let her go.
“What, now, Lysander? Where are we?”
“Very close, I believe, since we are being allowed to travel together again… Do. Not. Drop. My. Hand.”
She nodded, avoiding the severe look in his fiery eyes.
As Siofra observed the path now, she firmly believed she saw her surroundings as Lysander did. The path was wide and firmly packed with dark earth and worn stones, as if used often. The air, light and sweet. From nearby flowers? The trees stood as majestic towers with green overhang that colored the light filtering through. It was still day, after all. Had her journey through darkness been another test? Blasted fey.
Somehow, Lysander seemed different. Even through the gloves on both their hands, she felt the strength coursing through him. And his behavior with her had been in marked contrast to the other fey she’d met. Not all of them were crazy.
They had walked what seemed hours, with neither speaking much, when several creatures blocked their path. Lysander’s hand on hers tightened, and his body tensed as he came to a stop before her, his knees bent slightly in readiness.
The creatures wore odd, highly pointed red caps like those she’d seen in a picture book. Gnomes, maybe? Long trailing white hair and beards. Short, squat bodies that barely reached Lysander’s waist. Mouths a slash of red and very sharp, misshapen teeth. The fingers on their hands ended in pointy claws. Owlish eyes that appeared black, glowing, and fixed on her. A frightening sight. With great effort, she kept from shivering.
“What are you doing here?” Lysander asked.
He knew them? Unexpected. Disconcerting, even.
“We could ask you the same.” The creature closest to Siofra spoke, his eyes never leaving her. “Of course, we’ve no reason to detain one of our own, but we require a quiet word with the…lady.”
“I think not.” Lysander tensed even more, the one eye Siofra could see, creasing at the corner as he glared. “Obviously, I have permission to travel here. Do you?”
“Does it matter?”
The creatures fanned out, nine that she could count. She and Lysander would soon be encircled, and she didn’t suppose they had her best interests at heart. Would Lysander hand her over?
The closer they came, the more she came to believe their hats were caked in blood, dried and layered with crust, some almost brown. Her stomach roiled, and she swallowed hard. Why did they need her? Fresh blood?
They seemed to like red. She would give it to them. She wrenched her hand free from Lysander’s and desperately tore the red sheath out of her bag. At the same moment Lysander drew a knife from his pocket. The idea barely registered that he’d managed to hide a knife before chaos broke out.
The redcaps screached and ran in circles, bumping into one another and tearing at their eyes.
Lysander grasped her hand again and led her through them, his knife extended, but none challenged them again.
When he broke into a run, Siofra was more than willing to oblige. Anything to escape the horror of the little men slicing at their own faces.
Unfortunately, he was able to run much longer than her stamina or muscles could tolerate. She tugged at his hand. “Slow…down. Need to…breathe.”
Lysander immediately slowed to a brisk walk but retained a masterful grip on her hand. “I could carry you.”
“And I could paint a green sunset.”
“I take it, we will do neither. Why did you drop my hand?”
“Because I hoped this red…thing…would appease them. Daire gave it to me, and she said certain fey would be affected by it.” She didn’t mention they might cut themselves to shreds.
“If you do not do as I tell you, I will call on your name and compel you.”
“Will you, really!” She jerked his arm but held his hand, stopping in the center of the path. “I do not appreciate being…compelled!”
He leaned close to her face, his eyes like pebbles of granite. “I do not appreciate little girls who risk getting themselves, and me, killed.”
“You were going to drop my hand for that knife anyway.”
“You didn’t know that!”
They were both breathing heavily, Siofra from running and anger. Lysander? Well, she’d never seen him so irritated with her, perhaps when she’d tried to give away her pendant.
Suddenly, his face softened. “Siofra…” He sighed. “You’re a clever miss. In actuality, we are better off from your red…thing…than we would be had I used my knife. That thing is a cape, by the by. Daire may have added a burst of magic to it. Why would she give you that? What did you trade?”
“She didn’t keep her word in a bargain. I pointed that out.”
“A very clever miss.” He grinned at her, reaching for the red cape. “Now, put this away. If you arrive in court in that thing, it will not go well with you. More than one species of fey is enraged by red.”
Now that they weren’t running, Siofra could breathe and think. There was something about Lysander’s conversation with the redcap that nagged at her. What was it?
Before she could recite their words in her mind, Lysander dragged her entire body to the ground in a crouch and covered her with his own. Siofra had no time to react before she felt his body jerk in response to several blows. What was it? Had he been beaten? Shot by arrow? Magic?
When the blows continued to rain down on him, she screamed. “Enough! You will stop this instant or I will…I will use my magic on you and destroy you all.”
It stopped. Lysander relaxed against her and inhaled a staggering breath.
“Lysander, can you speak? Are you well?”
“Yes.”
When he said nothing more, Siofra shoved at him and peeked out from under his arm. There was nothing. Though, obviously, he had seen something.
She waved her hand imperiously. “Back off, fey villains. I will not go easy on you. Show yourself now.”
A group of wizened old men, brown like Mrs. Sgot, came into view. Overly large fisted hands were raised over Lysander. And more crazed eyes, though these were sly-looking as well. Were all the fey criminally insane? Or just the ones she met?
“He’s comin’ wi’ us,” the heftiest of them spoke up, “for crimes against the redcaps!”
“He did nothing.” Siofra straightened to her full height, and Lysander rose as well. “They attacked themselves because of something I did. Do you want the same? Keep threatening us.”
Most of them backed up, but the bold one at the front stepped closer. Siofra reached in her satchel and—
They vanished.
“Where did they go?” She asked.
Lysander vanished as well.
Siofra gasped, turning in a circle. What was going on? She was alone AGAIN!
The next second Siofra realized she was no longer on the path or in the forest, but in some kind of ornate, shimmering room.
A tall man bowed before her. When he rose, Siofra saw he was nearly as beautiful as Lysander, with long flowing yellow hair. His eyes were more golden than the opal of Lysander’s. Even his skin had a golden hue that matched the gold of his clothes, a long tunic over leggings and boots. “A pleasure,” he said. “You’ll need to wear more suitable attire before your audience with the queen.”
Siofra clapped her hands together. “How marvelous! But where is Lysander? How did we get here?”
“Your journey was observed and…Lysander…is with the queen.”
“Then why can I not go now?”
He frowned at her mucky trousers. “It is to your advantage to change.”
“Does she know why I’m here?”
He stared at her, and Siofra sighed. “Fine. You’re not going to tell me anything. What if we made a trade?”
“I am not permitted to do so, but were it possible, I don’t believe you have anything I require.”
Siofra shrugged. “Perhaps.”
His lip twitched as if he wanted to smile. “You’ll find what you need behind you. Haste would bring you profit.”
“Ah, you’ve made me a promise then.”
This time, he did smile. “I’m not sure what I consider profit is what you consider profit. That is something you would do well to ponder.”
He bent slightly and left the room.
Siofra rushed to the side of the room where water flowed out of a wall into a receptacle that overflowed into a drain. After removing her clothing, she managed a brisk wash then wriggled into a glossy golden dress that resembled one of her sleeveless shifts in shape but more like a ball gown in ornamentation. It sparkled. It shimmered. And without a single bead.
A knock sounded at her door. “Come in.”
Lysander entered, a more somber figure than she’d ever seen. His eyes told her nothing, blank and masked.
“It is time,” he said. “What will you say?”
“I’m not sure. I supposed when I see her, I’ll just…know.”
He nodded, still reserved in manner. When she passed him, he raised a hand. “Siofra, do try to remember what I’ve told you. Do not enter into agreements, say thank you, or please—”
“Yes, yes, I remember.” She yanked up her small reticule and walked out the door, eager to see the majesty of the Seelie Court, then stalled. “Lysander, are you alright? You took such a beating for me. What were those men?”
“I am recovered. Though you could not tell, the men were once brownies as helpful as your own. When changed, they become malevolent. The bogie.”
The bogie man was real? No wonder they terrified young children. Might that happen to Mrs. Sgot? How abominable! Was there something Siofra could do to prevent it?
The court was ablaze with light and dancing figures who held one another scandalously close. If debutantes of the ton danced that close, there would be ruined reputations or weddings aplenty. The lilting music was so enticing Siofra dearly wanted to join in. The Sidhe looked so joyful and beyond beautiful. She even found herself veering in that direction until Lysander’s hand clamped on her elbow and steered her aside.
“Must not,” he muttered for her ears alone.
If Siofra had felt overwhelmed by the variety of fey at the boundary village, she now experienced an overload of sensations. Whether it was the superfluous number of truly beautiful Sidhe men and women or the odd shapes of unknown fey that mingled in the dance or in the periphery of the sparkling Summer Court, she couldn’t say. But something called to her heart.
She grabbed her chest. What was it? Would she faint? How she despised ladies of the ton who collapse at the slightest provocation, and here she was lightheaded and weak. Perhaps it was nothing more than the magic of so many fey. She stiffened her spine.
Lysander raised a brow, but she shook her head. She was fine. She could meet the queen without fainting. She’d already faced wispies, a satyr, redcaps, and bogies. The queen was supposed to be nice, or nicer, than the Winter Court fey.
“Your majesty.” Lysander bowed.
How had they reached the queen already? Siofra didn’t recall walking that way.
Siofra dropped in a curtsey. Was that appropriate? She should have asked.
“So proper,” the queen said in a voice that sounded like a stringed instrument. “I’ve no time for that. It’s a dance, after all.”
Siofra rose in sync with Lysander. Why didn’t he speak? Was she allowed to look at the queen?
She raised her eyes until she was face to face with the queen and gasped. If the other Sidhe were beautiful, the queen was glorious. Light itself. She shone with an inner glowing that made Siofra’s eyes blink.
The queen’s head jerked when she looked at Siofra. “And you are?”
“Very enamored of your beauty. It is such an honor to be in your presence. I thank you for such a gift.”
“What shall you do for me?”
“I brought something precious to me. My very own leaves.” Siofra opened the reticule and selected a handful of the leaves that had fallen from the boundary shop tree and held them out.
The queen’s eyes widened then her head twisted toward Lysander. “How has this happened?”
“I cannot say, your Majesty.” His reply did not please the queen.
Was he saying he didn’t know or he wouldn’t tell her? Was this another issue of fey trade-offs?
The queen collected each leaf from Siofra’s hand, and the leaves attached themselves to the queen’s dress becoming one with the shimmering attire. “Speak,” she said, looking at Siofra.
“I believe I was once a member of this court and was given as a changeling to a human couple. They have died, and I would like to find my family. My mother, your majesty.” And as Siofra stared into the eyes of the queen, her heart grew warm, and tears slid from her eyes. “Do you think she longs for me as much as I long for her?”
A collective gasp went up from those around the room. Ah, she’d done it now. Crying on the queen was probably a major offense.
The queen reached out and wiped a tear from Siofra’s face. “I am certain she does, but you ask a great thing. What do you have to offer in exchange?”
“I caused the death of the troll that was banished from this realm. You are pleased?”
“I am well-pleased. He was a murderer and a traitor of innocents.” She reached for the pendant around Siofra’s neck and slid one finger under it. “You have already been given a great boon from…my servant.”
True. What could Siofra offer now?
“There is something I wish,” the queen said. “You could acquire it for me, and we could make a trade.”
“I have sugar.”
“Hah! I am not a sprite.” She said the words as if she described a toad or a rat. “Do you agree to fetch something for me?”
From the corner of her eye, Siofra saw Lysander’s hand raise. But she knew what she was doing.
“I accept. I find your object. You take me to my parents.”
“We have an accord.”
Lysander growled, and Siofra shifted her head to see him, but he was staring at the queen, who was staring back at him. “Watch yourself, Steward. She has already given her word.”
The queen reached for Siofra’s left hand and rubbed a finger across her palm. Golden runes floated in the air then settled in Siofra’s palm. “The king of the Winter Court has taken something from me and failed to return it. Go and retrieve it. When you find it, your hand will glow blue.”
“What is it?” Siofra asked. “How will I know what to look for?”
“You will know.”
With that, Siofra found herself in her room with Lysander.
He rounded on her. “How could you? Don’t you see what she’s done? Sent you on a quest in the Winter Court. That was very irresponsible of you. What if you die?”
“Yes, what if I die? No one will care. This way I have a chance of finding my parents. She could have told me to battle a dragon, and I would have.”
“Don’t say things like that here, or you will be sent to slay a dragon!”
“You don’t have to go with me.”
“That’s just it, Siofra, I do. I am responsible for your welfare, and she knows it!”
“Who will keep the boundary safe? Who’s watching it now?”
“There are others who will call on me should a serious trespass occur.”
“Oh.” She sank on the settee. “Would it be very dangerous were I to—” She yawned. “Fall asleep here? I am so very tired.”
And she slumped over.