The blue mist had returned, so Siofra looked around for Lysander’s father. She found him sitting beside a waterfall.
“You would have betrayed him,” he said, “if he hadn’t stopped you.”
“Maybe. I guess we’ll never know. You should tell him how you feel.”
His head rose, but he didn’t look at her. “You know nothing.”
Had she made progress? The last time she saw him, he told her she was nothing.
“I know he thinks you’d rather play your vengeful games than have a relationship with him.”
Now, he turned. “He will experience what matters most, and I won’t get in his way. Neither will you.”
“I’ll do my best, but I don’t always understand.”
His eyes narrowed, and his nostrils flared. “You’ve lost your human glamour, but you still smell.”
And then he was gone.
She rolled over and sat up. The sun had already crested the horizon. It would be light soon.
Lysander handed her a cup of hot tea. “Just the way you like it.”
“You shouldn’t do that. I know using magic costs you something every time.”
“This is nothing.”
She breathed in the steam and took a sip. “Do you think I need a bath?”
“I don’t understand. Why do you ask?”
“Your father said I stink like human.”
“That was days ago. Why are you worried about it now?”
“He just said it in my sleep.”
“That is not his concern. If he wishes you to bathe, he should provide safe waters.” Then he snorted, something he’d never done before. “I cannot believe he had the gall to invade your dreams again. It’s most unlike him.”
“He really doesn’t like me.”
“As I said, not his concern.”
A waterfall suddenly appeared in the center of the path, crashing down into a pool of water surrounded by boulders. A gold dress drifted down from the sky and landed on the rocks.
“I’m not wearing a dress on a quest!” Siofra shouted to the sky.
A blouse and pair of trousers exactly like her own, joined the dress.
“There’s no privacy!” she called out.
Instantly, a grove of trees and bushes sprang up around the boulders.
Lysander shrugged. “You don’t have to take a bath. I don’t smell anything.”
“It could be awhile before I get another chance, and I do like baths.”
“You must be wrong about my father. I think he likes you more than anyone else.”
Siofra wriggled out of her boots. “You don’t think he’d take it all away once I’m…without attire.”
“Not unless he wants to make me VERY ANGRY.” Lysander yelled the last two words at the sky. “I’ll just wait by the fire. You may as well wash your clothes while you’re…wet.”
Siofra picked up a bar of soap from the rock and walked into the pool, surprisingly warm. With her clothes still on, she waded underneath the waterfall. Oh, it was refreshing.
One by one, she peeled off her clothes and rinsed them before stretching them out on the rocks. “Can you hear me, Lysander?” she called in a loud voice.
“Yes!”
“How is your father able to hear whatever we say? I don’t think I like it.” Siofra rubbed the soap in her hair and scrubbed furiously.
“He shouldn’t have the ability. All I can think is that something we have in our possession was spelled by him.”
“As a means of listening? Sounds unlikely.”
“Not with magic. I’ll go through our belongings.”
Which meant he would go through her belongings. He had nothing but deep pockets.
After rinsing her hair a second time, Siofra eased her way toward the rock that held her clothing. How was she expected to dry off? “A towel, please?”
The towel appeared. “Thank y—I like this towel!”
Maybe he did like her more than he said, or maybe he didn’t want his son around a smelly woman.
When Siofra had dressed, she found a comb sitting on the rock and her old clothes already dried. The king thought of everything.
The moment she stepped away, the oasis disappeared like a mirage. She settled on her blankets, next to the fire. “Find anything?”
Lysander held up the red cloak, his face drawn and eyes troubled. “You say Daire gave this to you after she did not keep a bargain?”
“Right…but not until I pointed out she hadn’t kept her word. And really, she seemed in shock when I showed her the leaves. I don’t see how she could feign that. Certainly, she knew it meant she would die…someday.”
“She may not have faked the conversation, but she may have used the interaction to plant this in your possessions.”
“To what end?”
He rubbed his chin, staring in the distance, then he stuffed the red cloak in his pocket. Which must be bottomless. No ordinary pocket would hold a cape that size. “What if she’s in league with my father? An informant.”
“If he can listen on things when he’s not around, I don’t think he needs her. Are you sure you aren’t seeing a conspiracy where there is none? You do have issues with your father.”
“Daire knows the identity and purpose of every fey or human who goes through the doors. Such information means power in the right hands.”
“I can see that, but why choose to aid your father? He’s not always a nice person. No offense.”
“None taken. The reason is beyond me, but I feel it. There’s something going on we don’t see.”
Siofra began to fold her belongings and place them in the satchel, putting the stones Lysander had given her into the new trouser pockets. “You know more than me…those things you aren’t allowed to say. If you suspect an ulterior motive, you’re probably right. What should we do with that red cape?”
“Do you wish to keep it?”
“I like it. Can’t you un-magic it like you do other things?”
“My father put a protection on this cape for a reason and made sure you received it. He may know something we don’t…but I will keep it in my pocket to limit his access to our conversations.”
“I like that idea.”
They broke camp and continued down the path. Siofra peered behind them and up ahead, but she saw no one. “Why do we never see anyone on the path, except those who mean us harm?”
“To be honest, we have passed many travelers. You cannot see them.” At the shocked look on her face, he added, “But no one passed while you were…uh…under the waterfall.”
“Thank goodness. How do I break through that veil? I mean…I look just as fey as anyone else. Right?”
She waited until he nodded. “If the glamour’s broken, why the veil to my eyes?”
“Though seeing, they do not see; though hearing, they do not hear or understand.”
“Are you saying…” She shook her head. “Does it have something to do with me, personally? Of course, it does. I mean…Have I prevented myself from seeing?”
“You are close to the heart of the matter.”
That notion put a damper on Siofra’s thoughts. What had she seen or heard that she refused to understand? Once again, she reviewed her journey. Attack after attack. But not lately. When had the attacks stopped? When they reached the Seelie Court. She had assumed she’d merely been tested to see if she was worthy to appear in court. Lysander had intimated as much.
Then again, the Unseelie king wanted her to go on this quest. Had he protected her in his realm? The quest was his way of testing her, so she didn’t need other opponents in her travels.
Aargh. She couldn’t see what she couldn’t see. She laughed. Her thoughts sounded as ambiguous and circuitous as the fey. Which she was.
“What amuses you?” Lysander asked.
“Myself. Does the map tell us how much farther we have to go?”
“There is a river up ahead which we must pass without the aid of a bridge, else travel many miles around. Do you swim?”
“Barely. That is a definite “must not” for ladies, but my father enjoyed swimming. He took me as a child. Does rowan float?”
“Rowan is the wayfarer’s tree and prevents those on a journey from getting lost.”
“Hmm, I haven’t gotten lost yet, but I haven’t left the path.” Siofra fingered the catch on the satchel. Why had Mrs. Sgot given her rowan wood? It had to be useful for something. She would find out eventually. “What happens after we swim the river?”
“We reach the hill caves where the dragon resides. But there is a danger in swimming the river.”
“Of course, there is. Pray tell.”
“There is known to inhabit those waters, the kelpies, who feed upon those they catch. Do not be lured by beautiful men and women near the water.”
“Like mermaids?” Siofra’s heart sped up. She’d always wanted to see a mermaid.
“Only in that they also lure their prey to drown. Mermaids don’t eat you.”
“This is nonsensical. Why does the path suddenly veer into a river? Where is the bridge?”
Lysander looked at her with raised brows. “This is the first instance you find nonsensical? We’re in the land of Faerie. It’s all nonsensical, but there are rules…of a sort.”
“Yes, it’s the “sort” that muddles my sanity. There seems to be a way to break every rule.”
“And there you have the land of Faerie.”
For the most part, since leaving Mhargaidh Aislingean, the path had taken them through wide, open spaces, but now they entered a forest. Siofra didn’t care for the shuttered feeling it gave her, as if something would jump out at any moment.
“What are ye doin’ in me forest?” a loud gruff voice demanded.
A small, squat man with green shirt and trousers, and bright orange hair, popped out from behind a tree. He stopped in the center of the path, eyes narrowed, hands fisted. “What do ye want?”
“A pleasant walk on a pleasant day, young leprechaun,” Lysander said with a soothing, steady voice that would have convinced Siofra of anything, had he used it on her.
But, a leprechaun? That was a creature Siofra recognized. She rummaged in her satchel and pulled out the four-leaf clover. “A gift for you.”
His eyes went wide, then he glared at her. “I willna’ show ye me pot o’ gold.”
“I don’t want your gold.”
He stared at the four-leaf clover then snatched it from her hand. He sniffed it then bowed. “MacGilleBhàin’s, the name. At yer service, mi’lady.”
Without even thinking, Siofra dropped a curtsey. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. Enjoy your day, Sir MacGilleBhàin.”
He grinned then vanished with a pop.
“Siofra, dear…”
“What have I done now?” She turned to face him.
“You gave him a free gift. He gave you his name. If you call his name, he has to come.”
“That doesn’t sound bad.”
“Just remember that wishes granted by the fey always come with some cost that is unfortunate to the wisher.”
“As they say in the north country, you don’t get owt for nowt. Still, I did give him a perfect four-leaf clover.” Pesky fey and their pesky rules. Why couldn’t she be nice merely to be nice? “Do you hear water?”
“I do. Stay alert.”
“Right. Don’t talk to pretty people.”
They reached the river, but the speed with which it rushed by might wash them downstream before they made it across.
“The river is very wide here,” Lysander said. “Let me investigate further downstream for a shorter distance to cross. Stay on this path.” He gave her a severe look.
“I won’t move. Promise. Well, I might take care of personal business behind a tree, if you must know.”
“Acceptable.”
Even though Lysander was gone, Siofra didn’t want to get caught with her trousers down. She rushed the process then strode to the river to wash her hands. When she rose, she found a beautiful black horse with flowing mane and forelegs near the river’s edge. It had to belong to someone. The mane was too well-kempt.
With slow, even steps, she approached it, crooning softly because its eyes were wild for a tame horse. “Aren’t you a pretty horse. And so tall.” She reached out and gingerly patted his side. “I bet you could cross that river easily. Did Lysander’s father send you?”
“Siofra! Drop your hands and move back!”
Instantly, the horse nudged her hand over its back. When Siofra tried to lift her hand away, she couldn’t. She heard Lysander running through the brush.
“I can’t move.” She tried to see the horse’s face, but she couldn’t twist around. “Why can’t I move?”
Lysander halted his run about ten feet away, his hand on the knife at his waist. “Release her, kelpie, or I’ll kill you.”
“Take one more step, and I’ll dive into the river,” the kelpie said, its voice deep and gutteral. “She’ll be lost forever.”
“I will cut off her arm before I let you take her.” Lysander pulled out his bow and fitted the dragon scale-tipped arrow in place.”
“Yes, yes! A silver arm like Nuada is better than being kelpie fodder!” Siofra wailed at Lysander.
What could he do? Would he help her before the kelpie pulled her into the river?