Chapter Twenty-Six
Ash
I strode with purpose towards the treeline at the very edge of seelie land, the book heavy in my satchel and my bow slung over my back. It was only just dawn, but the glowing pink of the sky was still bright, making me want to squint my burning eyes.
I hadn’t been able to sleep at all. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the broon’s mud-coloured gaze go flat with death, my arrow sticking out of his ruddy forehead.
I’d gotten up and slipped out of my room when the sky was just starting to lighten, walking silently through the palace with the intention of going to the library—mainly because the Brid never set foot in there.
When the low murmur of voices had drifted into the hall as I walked through the palace, I’d recognised the Brid’s smooth, deep voice instantly. I stopped at the side of the cracked open door, warm seelie firelight spilling into the hall.
“Why do you think he is here?” I heard the King of Boars ask in his deep, snorting voice. “Why did he seek you out at the Midsith?”
The Brid snorted. “I don’t know yet, but I don’t trust that little runt one bit.”
There was a pause.
“Do you think he found the Traitor in the forest?” the boar asked, tightening my throat.
“Yes,” the Brid snarled, and my heart stopped dead. “That ispreciselywhat I think. That worm has surely been protecting him out there. How else could he have survived for all these months? He’s a half-breed runt. An embarrassment, despite what he might think otherwise in his shiny new skin.”
I ignored the stab of pain in my chest. I hadn’t trusted the Brid anyway. Hadn’t seen her as a mother. So why did it hurt to hear her speak about me so callously?
“But no matter, my dear.” The Brid’s voice smoothed out, and she chuckled. “He has done us a great favour. He knows where the Traitor has been hiding for all these years. All I have to do is order him to go and kill him.”
Panic strangled my throat, almost making me let out a choked breath before I managed to stop it.
“What do you think, my dear? Get Ash to bring the worm back here and slaughter him in front of the entire court, or give him a worthless, empty death in the forest where he will rot all alone?”
The King of Boars let out a snorting grunt. “Whatever you wish, my queen. What will you do with the halfling prince after that?”
The Brid made a disgusted sound. “Keep him close, I suppose, though the sight of him near sickens me. He is under my control, so he has some use. The little halfwit won’t even know about Ogma or understand the power I can exert with his name.”
“What if the Traitor told him?”
“You saw the way he shot down that broon at dinner. You saw the horror in his eyes once he realised what he’d done.” She let out a vicious little laugh. “He tries so hard to seem fae, no longer mortal, but he is still weak. The games I can play with him will be amusing, at least. And I will finally get to see dear Nua’s head on a spike in front of the palace, exactly where it belongs.”
The King of Boars grunted. “I am not convinced that he hasn’t already found Ogma. He hesitated before shooting the broon. I could see the indecision in his eyes.”
“Well if he has, we can still use him to find the Traitor,” the Brid drawled. “We’ll hunt the hunter. My guards can drive him into the forest like a petrified little rabbit. We’ll flush them both out that way.”
I slipped away after that, my heart pounding so hard in my throat I was sure they’d be able to hear it. I’d walked to the library, staring blindly ahead of me.
Gillie had been right. The Brid was worse. I’d heard the hate in her voice when talking about me and Nua. Her own sons. Even though she couldn’t actually control me with my name, the fact that she wanted to still horrified me.
And she wanted to send me to kill Nua.
She couldn’t control me with my name, but I still couldn’t lie. If she asked me if I knew where Nua was, I’d have to try and get round the question, and she’dknow. She was the Wielder of Words. They were her weapons. She’d know instantly if I was hiding the truth.
I’d hoped that her anger at Nua had bled away over the years. Indifference would have been better, though painful, in his situation. At least it would have meant she left him alone to live his life with Gillie in the forest. But the anger hadn’t gone. It had festered, and was still as hot as it had surely been when he’d refused to murder me as a boy.
My stomach twisted with unease. Would that happen to me? I was her son. I shared her blood. Would I turn into a vicious, vindictive and unfeeling creature just like her because of the murderous anger that still simmered in my gut for the Carlin and her sons? Would it consume me?
I couldn’t let her hurt Nua. And I couldn’t let her continue to just hurt random fae for no reason other than her own amusement. I didn’t know the seelie Folk, and didn’t feel much for them, but they were still just innocent Folk living their lives. They didn’t deserve to fall prey to the Brid’s thirst for blood.
I could still clearly remember the petrified cries of the driath on the night of Beltane. His pleas for his family—his children. She’d had her guard slit his throat for no reason other than pomp and ceremony. To prove how completely she controlled this land and the Folk on it. To taunt the Carlin.
The library was dark and cool when I stepped inside, so I lit a lantern and carried it to the deepest recesses of the room, well hidden in case anyone came looking. It was in the narrowest corner, filled with dust and stinking of musty books, that I found the ancient tome tucked at the very edge of a shelf, pushed right back. Its edges crumbled as I pulled it out carefully.