I shake my head. “I don't want my uncle to know about the baby yet.”
I don't wantanyoneknowing of the baby until Roan arrives, but there’s no way to stop the gossip. Everyone heard Airlie’s labor and the baby’s cries, and now the castle is alive with speculation, wonder, and a healthy dose of fear at the witch’s actions. After some panic at the exaggerated details of her escape from the cell, I was forced to send extra guards into the high-fae wing to put the castle into a true lockdown.
Whatever we need to do to keep this baby safe, I’ll do it.
I scowl at Tauron and shake my head. “To ride to Yris is a futile mission, regardless. The regent won’t just hand over any supplies they have there without questioning us and then demanding to see the baby. He’ll drag the witch in for questioning, and he’ll use it as an excuse to take her from us and stop the wedding. Going there is not an option.”
Tyton stares at the witch for a moment before he raises his voice to her hearing level. “Where would you get the herb from? If we let you out of this castle to collect it, where would you go?”
Her eyes flick toward him but move right back to the infant as she continues her watch.
She speaks quietly so she doesn’t disturb him. “Is there anywhere in the kingdom that isn’t barren like the plains here? We could go to the forest. The Ravenswyrd was still lush when we passed it.”
Tyton recoils as though he's been struck, and Tauron snaps at her, though remembering to keep his voice low, “You want to lead us to the forest of madness for herbs? Over my dead fucking body.”
She sighs and rolls her eyes at him, then speaks slowly as though to a child. “Milk thistle grows rampantly wherever there’s life. That's why I put it on the list. There are other herbs that work better and with less preparation, but they’re harder to come by and we would need to mix them. Wherever there’s life, we’ll find the milk thistle. I haven’t been to the Southern Lands in two hundred years, and before I left, I spent all of my time in the Ravenswyrd, so I’ll have to leave figuring out the location up to you.”
I never knew there was a witch coven in the Ravenswyrd Forest.
Tauron turns to look at me, his eyes wide.
Two hundred years ago, the witch left her home. Through our mind connection, I’d felt her terror and aching sadness, though she never told me what happened, no matter how much I tried to get her to confide in me. Somethinghadhappened to her, and she’d fled on foot, walking for days with her brother while I searched the kingdom desperately for her.
She grew up in the forest of madness.
It’s been called that for more than a millennium, far longer than I’ve been alive. Any high fae who dared to cross the threshold of those trees would lose themselves there. If they made it out alive, a madness had taken root in their minds far more terrifying than the brief clutches that Tyton finds himself in whenever he ventures too near.
The victims never recover. The only high fae to have walked into the trees and left again sound of mind, that I know of, is Roan. We were attacked by a horde of witches, and he took an arrow to the chest before being separated from the rest of us in the melee. I was sure he was dead, and after hours of searching for him, we found him at the edge of the forest, his wounds healed.
He’s never spoken of what he saw in there.
“The Goblin Lands,” Tauron murmurs, and I glance at him.
“You need to meet with the Goblin King to open a trading route through his lands. You already need to negotiate with him, but now Airlie needs you to go as well. If you take the witch with you, she can collect the herbs there and hope that the Goblin King doesn't mind you foraging on his lands. It's the only part of the kingdom with green earth left.”
Tyton huffs, his fists clenching as he struggles to keep his voice low. “So those are our options? A forest of madness or stealing from the Goblin King, the same man who’s already threatened to kill any high fae who crosses his lands without his consent?”
The witch’s eyes flick back to us as she rises and steps toward the bed. She moves the blankets away from the infant's face as he begins to fuss, grunting and letting out a tiny whimper. Her hands are so careful and gentle, treating him as though he’s made of glass as she soothes him back to sleep like the most competent wet nurse.
She whispers to us without looking away from the small gift on the bed, “The goblins won't mind parting with the milk thistle. It's practically a weed.”
* * *
The fae door outside the walls of Yregar was once most commonly used to travel to the Augur Mountains and the Seer who lived in the temple there. Generations of my family made the journey to hear what the Fates had planned out for our lives.
It can also transport people to the other fae doors within the Southern Lands. A very valuable resource, except that there are fae doors in the Goblin Lands and Yrmar. Both are the reason the fae door at Yregar is so heavily guarded, night and day. It doesn’t matter that neither the goblins nor the witches have ever attempted to use it; it’s still a crack in our armor, and someday I know they’ll come calling.
The reason we don't commonly use the fae door to the Goblin Lands is that the Goblin King has warned the high fae about entering his lands without his permission, and he’s proved he’ll keep his word. Dozens of the regent’s messengers have disappeared in the Goblin Lands over the centuries, never to be seen again, though mine are merely escorted to the edges of the land and told not to return.
We’ll use it today and hope his agreement to speak with me is enough warning for him. It'll be the quickest way to meet with the Goblin King, collect the herbs the witch needs for Airlie, and return to the castle.
“You could just describe this herb to Prince Soren, that way you don't have to travel with him,” Tyton says, his arms crossed and his face uncharacteristically stern as he regards the witch.
She doesn't relent, calm as ever. The unflinching way she stares at us all sends a ripple of irritation down my spine. She knew all along that her magic was strong enough to get past our defenses, and yet she played her game with us, to what end I still can’t guess.
“If I do that, there’s every chance that Prince Soren will come back with a handful of brandy weed and the entire trip will be a waste of time. Is there anyone in here who has knowledge of plants and magic properties?”
Tauron’s jaw flexes as he grinds his teeth, loath to admit any failings to her. His hand twitches like he’s imagining her death, blood-soaked and so satisfying. I can’t blame him.
