AllFreeNovel
Share Us
They were all here. All of them. The Carlin and her three sons. It still shamed me that I couldn’t remember which one had killed my parents, but it didn’t matter. They’d all played a part. They were all going to die.
Probably not today though. They were already striding into the Midsith, the black-haired fae pausing to let the Carlin enter first. His blade was still in his fist in a loose, easy grip, but he put it away before following her in.
Quiet descended when every single one of the Carlin’s procession disappeared inside the Midsith. Then the gathered solitary Folk started talking and laughing loudly. I could hear cruel taunts about the Carlin and the unseelie, sneers about the ridiculous court politics that played no role in the forest Folk’s way of life.
Except it did. If the Carlin had succeeded in keeping me captive after sloughing off my mortal skin, what would have happened to the forest? Perpetual winter would have killed everything off. Nature needed the balance, and she wanted to keep the balance tipped in her favour.
And I doubted she’d stop in her mad quest just because I’d escaped. I knew she hadn’t, because she was still sending her guards to search for me. Now I had more reason to kill her. Not just for the death of my parents, but to keep Nua and Gillie safe out here. To keep them happy and warm and fed in their sidhe. If the Carlin won, everything would die.
The Folk’s guffaws quieted. When I realised why, my gut tightened with fearful anticipation. I could hear something making its way through the forest to my right, but it didn’t sound like stampeding horses. I could still hear the clop of hooves, but it was lighter and steadier, and accompanied by the continuous roll of wheels over the forest floor.
A carriage emerged into the clearing in front of the Midsith entrance, flanked by two guards wearing deep green armour and carrying gold swords. It was fat and round like a pumpkin, made from thick, twisting branches that concealed whoever sat within. Two chestnut horses pulled it, and they came to a slow stop when the squat fae sitting on the front seat of the carriage clicked at them, his beady green eyes flitting over the watching Folk.
More guards followed, marching in unison until they stopped abruptly. One peeled off to walk to the side of the carriage, reaching up to reveal a door cut into the wood.
I stopped breathing when the Brid stepped out.
Her long, straight hair was the colour of fresh blood, falling down her back like a waterfall. Her eyes were just like Nua’s—solid green, with just a hint of yellow sclera when she cast a disinterested glance around.
She was smiling. Her lips were painted red to match her hair. Her skin was golden. Darker than Nua’s—a deep, burnished gold that glimmered. Her features were still fae-sharp, but softer than the Carlin’s, her cheeks plump with health.
I swallowed when my throat tightened as I stared at her, resisting the urge to stand up and show her that I was here.
This was my real mother. This was the woman who’d given birth to me. Weak, childish longing made my fingers clench in my shirt as I watched her, warring with bitter resentment at the thought of her abandoning me when I was a baby. Sending my brother to kill me as a boy.
She was tall and willowy, and her sage green dress flowed behind her like streams of water when she stepped away from the carriage. It glittered with brown stones and blood-red jewels. On her head was a circlet of twisting brown wood with bright green stones peeking out from within the slender twigs.
I finally tore my eyes away from her when a huge beast stepped out from between the trees to stop at her side. It was an enormous boar—even bigger than Ankou’s death hound—with monstrous tusks curving up from its lower jaw.
I remembered the effigy that the unseelie had burned on the night of Samhain. And the Carlin’s words—telling the big deer-faced fae to light the pyre so they could watch their tribute to the Seelie Queen, her “cherished King of Boars”, go up in flames.
“Are you ready, my dear?”
My breath caught at the sound of the Brid’s voice. It was smooth and deep, making my chest tighten even as my gut hungered for something I couldn’t name. Her words were powerful, I remembered reading in theSpellsmithsbook. She was the most powerful spellsmith alive.
Hearing her say just those few words made an intense yearning rise inside me. To hear her speak—to just listen to her voice. But I didn’t know if that was because of her power, or if it was because she was… my mother.
She’d raised a long-fingered hand to stroke the underside of the boar’s giant snout. My eyes bulged out of my head when the beast spoke back.
“I am ready, my queen. Eager to begin the Mild Months.”
She laughed, green eyes sparkling. “As am I. Let’s go in. I see that bitter old hag has already arrived.”
The boar let out a great snort. “Indeed.”
The Brid swept into the Midsith with the King of Boars just behind her. Her guards followed, and quiet fell once again before the solitary Folk started talking and laughing.
“She reallyisa bitter old hag,” a raspy voice said jovially from somewhere near my right. “And her sons are just as cold and cruel.”
“Well, at least shehassons,” someone else said, a smirk in their voice. “The Brid has none anymore. No heirs at all.”
No,I wanted to shout.She does. We’re both here, in the forest. I’m right here!
I clenched my jaw and stared pointlessly at the closed door of the Midsith. I couldn’t leave yet, not without all these gathered Folk seeing me, which was too risky. One of them could have followed me, and I didn’t think I could bring myself to kill a random solitary fae. Not one who wasn’t really involved in the Carlin’s evil plans.
I’d have to wait until all the solitary Folk left, which probably wouldn’t be until after the courts reappeared and went back to their lands. My gut lurched at the thought of seeing the Brid again. What would she do if she saw me? Would she be pleased? Angry?
“Ash.” I heard a tiny whisper, and whipped round as my branch arm reached back for my bow.
