Page 50 of The Faerie Handmaid

“Fae blood imparts abilities superior to human ones,” Emerlyn said, but it sounded like a rehearsed remark, one she had uttered many times.

“Emerlyn.” Morgana’s voice rose, ringing through the apartment. “Will you help me find my handmaid, or must I do it alone?”

Emerlyn pushed herself stiffly up from her desk. “I apologize, Morgana. It has been a difficult day.”

“Idhri and I will do this on our own, then,” Morgana said. “I found a pool on the outskirts of the city where my scrying is better. It seems this undisciplined magic is weaker there.”

“I will go with you. Perhaps together…”

“Yes, and I thank you. I doubt there is any time—that is—” Morgana paused and pressed a hand to her heart. “I feel her,” she said, her voice dropping to its lowest register. “She is trying to tell me… Come. We must hurry.”

At another time she would have pitied the effort it took Emerlyn to keep up with her and Idhri as they strode swiftly through the corridor into the waning afternoon, but the sense of peril for Braithe drove all other considerations from her mind. It was Idhri who dropped back a bit to walk beside the old councillor, ready to support her should she falter.

Good. She would allow the lad to do what he could. Perhaps that would give him some comfort.

16

The walk to the edge of the city didn’t really take long, Idhri thought, but it felt like hours. He thought of picking up Councillor Emerlyn to carry her so they could go faster. She didn’t look as if she weighed very much. He wanted to plead with both women to hurry, hurry, hurry. He couldn’t banish the memory of Braithe allowing the fae man with the terrible eyes to bind her. Idhri shuddered at the memory of how that felt, the loss of control, the absence of agency. He should have run after her, charged through the chamber despite being told to stay out of it. He should have shouted, demanded someone intervene.

Logic told him it wouldn’t have worked. They already thought he was less than a person because he was a half-blood. No one would have listened, and the fae man would simply have bound him as well. Then Morgana would have had no idea what happened to either of them. He knew all that was true, but he still blamed himself. He had promised to be Braithe’s protector. He aspired to be her champion. If anything happened to her, he would never get over it.

Idhri knew nothing of scrying beyond the mentions Morgana had made of her difficulties here in the White City. The reflective pool turned out to be so far to the northwest boundary of the city that he could see the fields and woods beyond. He watched as the priestess and the councillor braced themselves on the stone surround that circled the pool and bent to gaze into the clear water. At first he stayed back, afraid of distracting them, but as the minutes flew by, the intensity of their focus mesmerized him, drawing him forward.

They didn’t speak. They barely seemed to breathe. Surely, such rapt attention meant they saw something!

Little by little, he crept near them, careful his steps made no sound. The councillor had produced a ribbon from somewhere to tie her long hair back. Morgana held hers in one hand, barely keeping the ends of it from skimming the water. Idhri peered past her shoulder at the surface of the pool, searching for what they saw. He half expected to see fish, or perhaps a frog or two, but the pool was utterly pristine, empty of anything that might have stirred its surface. The bronze rays of the setting sun gleamed on the smooth surface, making it mirror-bright. Idhri didn’t know if that was good or bad.

When he heard Morgana murmur, “Emerlyn. Do you see it?” he drew a sharp breath that hissed in his throat. Morgana put up her free hand for quiet, but she made no remonstrance. She leaned as far beyond the surround as she could, staring into the pool.

Emerlyn, after an endless moment in which Idhri had to clamp his jaw to keep silent, whispered, “I do.”

Idhri could not resist. He stepped close and leaned above Morgana. He narrowed his eyes, searching for whatever it was the two women saw.

At first he saw only the shine of the dying light, but then—in a way he could not have explained—he saw… What was it?

A wall, like the one encircling this pond, except it was high, higher than his head. There was a break in it, a gate, and he thought he saw a house beyond, with a black door. Was it all imagination, born of his need?

Emerlyn sighed, and the image broke apart, at least to Idhri’s eyes. Morgana kept her eyes on the pool, not moving for what seemed to Idhri a very long time. Finally she, too, exhaled. She straightened and tossed her hair back over her shoulder. “I have not seen this house.”

“There are many such houses,” Emerlyn said. “Each delegate has one. We could not visit them all.”

“I must try,” Morgana said, her eyes flashing gold.

“I will go with you,” Idhri said.

Morgana turned to him. “Did you see it?”

“I saw… something.”

“Braithe is trying to show us where she is.”

“Is it a house? With a wall, and a black door?”

“You surprise me,” Emerlyn said sharply. “I would not have thought a half-blood—”

Morgana interrupted her, saying firmly, “Exactly right, Idhri. Your fae blood is strong.”

Idhri made no answer, but a little swell of relief rose in his breast at the thought that there was one thing, at least, good about being a half-blood.