Someone has wrapped the body of the tree with colourful ribbons, and charms tinkle from the uppermost branches, lulling me into forgetting my anger from before. I sink to my knees and place my hand on the withered bark. Closing my eyes, I whisper the blessing Kitarni helped me memorise.
“May all of Danu’s children find strength, shelter, and safety beneath these branches.”
The branches above me shudder, and the ground below me pulses softly as I say the words. The bond between Danu and me throbs like a heartbeat before it settles once more. A part of me marvels at it all, but I shut that side down and climb to my feet instead.
One down. A billion shrines and sanctums to go.
I’m determined to be useful, even if the only way I can do that is by continuing this farcical pilgrimage. While the fae may believe that this blessing makes some difference—provides some mystical protection from the Fomorians—I can’t get the screams from last night out of my head. If even the capital city isn’t safe, what chance do these remote temples have?
I’m so stuck in my maudlin thoughts, as I strap up my boots, that I don’t notice the change in the courtyard. It’s only when I almost trip over a prostrated high fae priestess in my path that I’m forced to look up.
A tree root the size of my waist has broken free of the paved ground, forming a dirt-covered coil which dominates the space. It marks the edge of a graceful pond that wasn’t there when I entered the sanctuary but is already teeming with life. A second blackthorn—the twin of the one I just blessed—has grown over the water, dripping white petals onto the mirror-calm surface.
“It’s a sign from Danu,” Kitarni murmurs, coming up behind me as I gape in awed stupefaction at the pond. “Our Lady of Rivers has given your pilgrimage her blessing. She’s marking this as the right path.”
The relief in the dryad’s voice is tangible, and for the first time, I consider that perhaps I wasn’t the only one doubting our plans. With her explanation, a tiny sliver of hope worms through me. It’s not enough to cure me of the anxiety twisting my gut into knots, but it does dampen a little of my impatience.
“Most Holy Lady,” Nirbert breathes, blushing pink from the top of his balding head down to the tip of his pointed nose as he bows deeply before me. “Thank you. This blessing is beyond all of our hopes. We shall… we shall… hold a feast day! And pray for your safety on this most sacred of journeys and an easy fever.”
I give the verbose gnome a soft smile, choosing to ignore the fever comment. “Pray for my brother’s safety in Elfhame. Danu has already gifted me with a Guard to protect me.”
As if my words have summoned them, Drystan and Jaro finally enter the courtyard. The former doesn’t spare me a glance, turning and heading for the great doors and the horses waiting beyond, but the latter meets my eyes and offers me a soft, hopeful look.
Damn him. I want to be angry with him for letting Drystan cart me away from the palace like he did, but Jaro’s warm chestnut eyes are too apologetic for me to hold a grudge. I’m pretty sure I can stay grumpy at Drystan for as long as it takes, but the others? If I’m strong, I’ll last until lunch.
Nirbert nods so enthusiastically that I worry his oversized head might cause him to topple over. “Of course! We shall make daily offerings for the health of the Knight Commander, and all his troops. The whole town shall pray.”
“Nicnevin,” Kitarni murmurs. “I do not wish to rush you, but we have precious little time.”
“Of course, safe travels.” Nirbert bows again, even deeper this time, his nose touching the ground. “Danu bless her Nicnevin, and her High Priestess.”
“You as well,” I finish lamely, allowing Kitarni to take my arm and lead me through the small assembly of awed fae.
“This is a good sign,” the dryad murmurs, more to herself than me. “How are you feeling?”
Itchy, but I don’t bother mentioning it. The tightness across my skin has been plaguing me since the coronation, and I’m almost certain it’s a manifestation of my nerves, because no amount of scratching seems to alleviate it.
“I’m still frustrated that we can’t do more.”
“As am I,” Kitarni admits. “A great many of my friends were in the city, but I have faith in Florian, just as I have faith in you.”
I lean into her slightly, telling her without words how I appreciate her. Ever since we met in Lore’s tree, she’s been a steadfast presence by my side. While my Guard comes with their own drama, Kitarni is simply Kitarni.
Leaving the courtyard, we pass under the huge temple doors, and my cheeks heat at the sight of the crowd waiting for us. They keep a respectful distance from the organised column of horses, but the second I emerge, a huge cheer goes up.
The noise hurts my ears, and I cast around for my Guard, trying my best not to shrink back. Drystan only has eyes for his stallion, Blizzard, at the head of the group, double checking his reins with an expert eye. Bram is already astride his horse at the back of the group, looking distinctly uncomfortable under all the attention. Jaro swings up on a mare beside my brother, half smiling, half shaking his head as Lore cartwheels past him to entertain the masses.
My redcap ends his display with a back flip, blinking just before landing and reappearing by my side.
“There you are, pretty pet,” he murmurs, taking my chin in his fingers and stealing a quick kiss before blinking away again.
This time he reappears on Wraith’s back in the middle of the column, scratching the Barghest’s ears.
A tug at my leggings draws my attention downward, and I grin at the tiny selkie boy stretching his short arms as high as he can to offer me a wild rose.
“My lady, forgive him.” His worried father rushes up. “He is young.”
“It’s quite all right,” I promise, taking the flower and hooking it carefully into my braid. “It’s a beautiful rose.”Do not thank the child. Do not thank the child.
