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Chapter Eighteen
Ash
Nua and Gillie had given me some more information about the Midsith and the exchange of power between the two queens.
The Midsith was a neutral place, which meant all powers were rendered useless the moment the Folk set foot in it and didn’t return until they reached their own land, to ensure no battles broke out when they left after the ceremony.
It was the only reason they were reluctantly letting me go and watch—not that they could’ve stopped me. Even if the Carlindidsee me—which she wouldn’t—she’d be powerless. And the two courts did adhere to the tentative peace treaty, Gillie said. As much as the two queens hated each other, they didn’t attack each other’s people even with swords or claws on the days of Samhain and Beltane, although the threat of it always lingered.
It was all so petty. And ridiculous. I was glad to be out here in the woods, where no one cared about court politics. Although I often wondered how different the seelie court was to unseelie. Did they have a little village too? Gillie had said there were far more of them, so I imagined the land would be more built up and crowded.
Did the Brid live in a big, imposing palace that loomed over her land like the Carlin’s? Did she have guests, or was it as empty and lifeless as the unseelie court had always seemed to be?
Not that it mattered. I would never see it, despite the weird flitters of curiosity I sometimes got when I imagined the land I had come from. Was a part of. I was seelie and had never set foot on seelie land. How would I react to it if I did? Would it feel like home?
Would anywhere feel like a home again?
I arrived at the Midsith before dawn. I wasn’t entirely sure how I’d known how to get there, but I’d just walked until I found it, like I did every day while out hunting for the Carlin’s guards. Nua and Gillie had wanted to come with me, but I’d told them no. I didn’t want to put them at any risk whatsoever, and I wasn’t going to make them sit here with me in the cold and dark for hours until the courts arrived. I wasn’t going to make Nua see our mother, who had tried to kill him before banishing him from seelie land.
The Midsith was in the dead centre of the forest, as Nua had said, and the trees thinned out to create a narrow clearing around its edge.
It looked like a gigantic version of Nua and Gillie’s sidhe. A huge mound of earth, covered in moss and grass, with ancient wooden double doors facing me as I cautiously approached.
Protruding from the top of the Midsith was an enormous sword. I stopped and stared up at it. It was old and rusted, vines creeping over the blade and curling round the hilt.
Was this the First God’s sword? The one Ogma had told me about, that had impaled Fir Bolg’s head and created these woods?
I eyed the Midsith again. Was it really a sidhe—a hollowed out mound in the earth—or was it Fir Bolg’s skull?
They’d obviously been huge. That sword was mammoth, made for a giant’s hand. Did its blade cut down through the centre of the Midsith inside? I supposed I would never find out. It wasn’t like I’d ever set foot in there.
I shivered from the early morning chill as I reached the oak tree Odran had described. Pulling myself up effortlessly, I settled in its dipped centre and had a sip of hot tea from my leather skin. Then I sat back to wait.
By the time the sun rose, my clothes felt damp from morning dew, and my joints were stiff from sitting in the cold, unmoving for hours. I ate the breakfast Gillie had packed me and drank more lukewarm tea, then settled again to stay quiet. I wasn’t sure what time the courts would arrive, but I remembered it had been morning when the Carlin had left for the Midsith on Samhain.
It was late morning when I heard them. The Carlin and her Folk arrived first.
My backside was numb from sitting in the tree for hours, but I went completely still when I heard the thunderous pounding of hooves through the trees to my left.
Other solitary Folk had come to watch the courts arrive, but they hadn’t seen me. They sat around the bases of other trees, some with picnics, others drinking wine straight from the bottle. They perked up at the sound of the horses, whispering frantically to each other.
A black horse emerged through the trees first, its rider dressed in sleek black armour and gripping a long blade in his fist. I stared at him. I didn’t remember seeing him when I’d watched the Carlin and her court leave unseelie land on Samhain.
His eyes were black and cold, face aloof as he brought his horse to an easy stop and swung down, his boots almost silent on the forest floor. He didn’t even glance at the solitary Folk watching breathlessly, as though it was beneath him to acknowledge them.
I jerked my gaze away from him when a gleaming white horse appeared, the Carlin on its back. The murderous rage that simmered constantly in my gut grew and filled every inch of me as I stared at her, making my spindly branch fingers twitch for my bow. She was wearing a pale grey dress shimmering with white jewels. The blue stones in her white wood crown winked in the sunlight piercing the treetops.
But she didn’t look viciously smug like she had on Samhain. She was scowling, her bronze teeth hidden and her cobalt eye flashing with bitter resentment. She had to give the power back today, to the other queen. Fierce satisfaction at the sight of her displeasure made me want to grin.
Nua kept insisting that the Carlin was almost impossible to kill. But was she really? I could nock an arrow and drive it through her forehead from where I sat. I had a clear shot. I could do it. Surely she wouldn’t be able to survive that?
But then the rest of her court arrived, and I realised if I did do it, it would be chaos. At least some of these solitary Folk would get hurt if I did anything reckless, which I absolutely didn’t want. Ten guards followed behind the Carlin and her sons, with a small group of unseelie Folk bringing up the rear. I blinked when I noticed Belial among them.
Of course. He’d gone with her before. And poisons weren’t fae power. I had no doubt that he carried many on him for the Carlin’s protection inside the Midsith.
My gaze slid back to the three princes as they dismounted their pale blue horses. Balor’s blue eyes were narrowed as he slid them over the watching solitary Folk, cruel mouth twisting with disdain. His long white hair was pulled back into a severe braid, but his brother’s flowed loose around his shoulders. Bres wasn’t smirking for once, and he muttered something to Cethlen before pulling out a little flask and taking a sip.
Cethlen’s head was cocked as he listened to the whispers of the solitary Folk, and he slowly bent to set his hellhound at his feet. It sat there obediently, panting as its red eyes took in the forest with interest. Its nose twitched like it wanted to sniff around at all the new smells, but it refrained.
