Page 107 of The Changeling

Surely the Carlin’s words meant I should trust in my dark hidden side, the part that foresaw the future and could conjure mist, the part of me I had tried so hard to suppress?

I needed to know more; I needed to understand myself.

With Carlin at my heels, I went down to the library. Lord George was a scholar by nature, and had collected many books and scrolls over the years. He spent most of his days there, reading and making notes for a book he was writing about the history of Scotland. I knocked on the door, and he called for me to enter. I came in and stood before his desk, one hand on Carlin’s head for courage. She wagged her tail.

‘Caiti?’ he asked in surprise. ‘What can I do for you?’

‘My lord, I think Robbie has been cursed.’ I added quickly, ‘Not by me!’

‘Then by whom?’ he asked, looking weary and troubled. ‘Who would wish my son harm?’

‘I am no’ sure,’ I answered slowly. ‘But I think it may be … my real mother.’

It was very hard for me to say this out loud.

He looked puzzled.

‘Did … did Robbie tell you I ran away from home because I had discovered I was a foundling child?’

Lord George shook his head. ‘Nay. I knew he was distressed that you had disappeared, but we all thought you had gone to find work after …’ He hesitated.

‘After you dismissed me from your service,’ I said coldly. It was an old wound, but one that still twinged at times.

‘Aye,’ he agreed, twirling his quill in his fingers.

‘So … so Robbie didna tell you who my real mother is?’

‘He told me naught, it seems.’ Lord George’s voice was full of regret.

‘I told him that night … after he helped me escape the witch- hunters at the Lammas Fair …’ I was finding it very hard to continue.

‘Told him what, Caiti?’

‘That I … I am a changeling child. My mother is queen of the Shee.’

Lord George’s thick eyebrows flew up in astonishment.

‘I ken it’s strange. But I’m telling the truth.’

He looked sceptical, and I put one hand over my heart. ‘I swear on my mother’s ashes that I speak true.’

‘You must admit it’s hard to believe.’

‘Och aye! Just as it is hard to believe that Robbie has lain unwaking for months now, yet the soles of his boots are worn through every morning! Just as it is hard to believe that my mam, who never did aught to hurt a soul, was burned to death only a few miles from here, and that her murderer walks free! Just as it is hard to believe that my Nan, the wisest woman you’d ever meet, was drowned on the orders of a man who drove his own sister off her throne, and even now seeks her death. Just as it’s hard to believe that you … you … a man I’ve kent all my life … is willing to think me a black-hearted witch, but is no’ willing to think I am trusting you with the truth of my birth, something that could see me killed too if anyone found out!’

I was panting and close to tears.

He held up his hand. ‘I apologise. Please forgive me.’

I managed to nod jerkily.

‘So the old tales about a faery kingdom hidden within the hollow hills are true?’ he asked.

‘Aye, my lord.’

‘Extraordinary.’ He scrutinised me closely, as if expecting me to have suddenly sprouted wings or tusks or scales. ‘Yours was always an eerie beauty,’ he said at last. ‘You never seemed to quite belong in this world.’

Unexpectedly, tears sprang to my eyes. ‘I tried so hard to be human. I really did.’