Page 21 of The Changeling

‘It is all lies, what those mortal folk have told you. You are not of their kind. We hate their kind. They live in sunlight, they feast and dance, while we live in shadows and starve. They fear us and curse us and slaughter us with their iron swords, while each year we grow thinner and sicker and our babes do not thrive. Seven hundred years ago their king stole our land and our throne, and now their so-called queen wears the crown that should be mine. I will throw down that mortal queen, and a child of my blood will rule the land in her stead. And you, my daughter, will be the instrument of my revenge and the bringer of my people’s salvation. You will make her rue the day she was born!’

When the woman uttered the word ‘rue’, my heart jerked violently. She felt me flinch and gripped my wrists more tightly. ‘You think to escape me? You can never escape me.’

She began to chant words that echoed in my memory, as if I had always known them:

The seventh daughter of a seventh daughter

is the only one who can stop the slaughter

only she can break the curse and pay the price

but first she must know laughter, love, and sorrow

once, twice, thrice, must die a willing sacrifice

once by blade, once by fire, once by water

blood on the throne at the year’s dark cross-quarter

‘You are my seventh daughter, as I was my mother’s. You were conceived and born for one purpose only, for only a seventh daughter of a seventh daughter can save our people.’

‘What do you mean … Who are you?’ I managed to croak.

‘I am queen of the Shee, and you are my heir.’

I recoiled. I knew that word. It was the old word for the faery folk, the mysterious race of otherworldly creatures that dwelled in the hollow hills.

‘I know you have learned to laugh, Rue, for I have been watching you. Tell me, have you learned to love?’

I thought of Robbie, of the way his arms had tightened about me when I kissed him.

She laughed. ‘Only one more lesson to learn, my child. When you know what it is to sorrow, you shall be ready.’

Her hands were like manacles about my wrists. I raised my stick and struck her hard. She released me with a cry of pain.

I turned and ran, stumbling, towards the place I now knew was not my true home.

V

Nettle String

‘Are you my mother? Wake up! Tell me! Are you my mother?’

Mam sat up, her long plait dishevelled. ‘Caiti? What is it? Have you had a nightmare?’

‘Answer me. Am I your true daughter?’

A fraught silence, then she answered brokenly, ‘You are the true daughter of my heart.’

‘Am I the daughter of your body?’

‘Nay, my lambkin. I’m sorry …’

‘All my life you’ve lied to me. All my life,’ I marvelled.

It is difficult to describe what I felt at this moment. It was as if Mam had struck at the centre of my soul with a giant hammer and smashed me to smithereens. I was not Caiti anymore. She was not my mam. I did not know what to call her anymore. Mistress NicNeven, as if we were strangers? Caitlín, as if we were friends? Why had she given me her name? I was no blood kin of hers. She could not have loved me, she had not known me, I was a changeling child forced upon her by an inhuman creature.

Yet I could not call her anything but Mam. Any other name was unthinkable – it felt wrong in my mouth.