“Oh dear,” Cathy murmured in pitying tones. Her voice turned sweetly patient, like she was addressing a child. “You do realize who he is, right? Surely anyone of any consequence must recognize Aodhan of the Oak.”
“I’d heard you’d given yourself a name,” the mare said to Aodhan. “How very liberated.”
“Of course,” Ferghal said, so smoothly that Aodhan was quite certain he had never heard the name before in his life. “That is, ah…”
Eislyn’s ears tilted back. Aodhan guessed she was filling Ferghal in over their mental link.
“Really?” Ferghal blinked. “A librarian?”
“A master mage,” Cathy corrected. “Hence his current appearance. I realize that as a warrior you may not be familiar with the subtle intricacies of magic, but casting spells typically requires one to possess hands. He would be of little use to me without them.”
Ferghal frowned, still looking somewhat suspicious. “But you are a sorceress. Surely you cast your own spells.”
Cathy waved a hand at the surrounding war band. “You don’t fight every battle alone, do you? Now release my mage. I require his special talents, and of course you would not wish to hinder my business.”
She said it with just enough emphasis to imply that only a backwater rustic wouldn’t know who she was. Sir Ferghal hesitated again, but this time his steed’s expression was as blank as his own. There was a long, fraught pause.
“Of… course not,” the knight said, dropping his sword at last. Aodhan started breathing again. “Indeed, Lady… lady sorceress. Allow me to formally introduce myself. I am Sir Ferghal of the Summer Knights, lord of these lands. While I would not wish to cause you any difficulties, I must strongly advise that you turn back and seek another route. My estate lies alongside the border of the wretched unseelie, and the witch Maeve has been most troublesome recently. I fear that these lands are not currently safe to travel.”
Maeve’s been sending her own war band into these lands?
Without turning his head, Aodhan counted the warriors within his field of vision. From what he’d seen of Maeve’s court, Ferghal’s force would outnumber the unseelie two to one. High sidhe always liked to stack the odds in their favor, but it still seemed excessive for a simple border patrol.
There’s something he isn’t telling us.For the first time, he wished that he was bound to Cathy, able to communicate with her mind-to-mind. Be careful, Cathy.
“I thank you for the warning,” Cathy was saying. “But I am more than capable of taking care of myself.”
“With all due respect, lady sorceress, I urge you to reconsider.” Ferghal looked genuinely worried. “Ordinarily my warriors could deal with Maeve’s flea-bitten hounds without difficulty, but she has somehow managed to entice a dangerous ally to her side. The cursed Prince Morcant himself has been sighted on the border. Even a sorceress such as yourself would stand slim chance against such a foe.”
Morcant?
Aodhan couldn’t help starting in surprise, but at least he wasn’t the only person to react. Many of the seelie warriors flinched at the name, and a few made surreptitious warding gestures, spreading the fingers of their right hands wide to symbolize the rays of the summer sun.
How in the names of all the goddesses did Maeve enlist Morcant’s aid? Aodhan’s mind whirled, trying to make sense of it. He’s the right hand of the Winter King himself. Maeve’s not nearly that influential, no matter what airs she puts on. What could she possibly have offered him? And for that matter, what does she want? It must be something important, to risk provoking the seelie into outright war.
The pieces finally clicked together. Not something. Someone.
He risked a glance down at Noodle. The puppy was staring fixedly at Ferghal, black nose twitching. Every line of the black dog’s body was tense and quivering—not with fear, but excitement.
Noodle. Aodhan caught Cathy’s eye. He flicked his own gaze to the puppy, then back again, willing her to understand. Look at Noodle.
Cathy did so, and he saw her make the same connection. Something flashed across her face, but she quickly controlled her expression, resuming that air of aloof dignity.
“I regret I cannot turn aside for any reason, sir knight,” she said to Ferghal. “And I think perhaps you know why. Tell me, have you recently taken a changeling child from the unseelie? A boy of about twelve years, with hazel eyes and brown hair?”
This time, a murmur did run round the circle of warriors. Aodhan caught one man mutter, “Brigit’s tits. As if Morcant wasn’t bad enough, now we’re going to be up to our necks in raiders from our own courts.”
Like all high sidhe, Sir Ferghal couldn’t lie. From his face, this was something he was deeply regretting right now. “I may know of such a child. But, ah, lady sorceress, I hope you appreciate why such things should not be discussed too widely. Many courts would stop at nothing to get their hands on such a promising changeling.”
“Of course.” Cathy smiled at him, as though they were co-conspirators. “Why else do you think I would come so discreetly, with only one escort? None of us want rumors to spread, after all. I assure you, sir knight, that I have no interest in stealing him for some other court. Indeed, the last thing I want is for someone else to snatch him away.”
Aodhan could have kissed her. Sir Ferghal’s expression cleared, the last traces of suspicion vanishing.
“I am most grateful for your discretion.” He made his sword disappear, relaxing at last. “I am of course eager to debut the changeling into society, but the grand reveal must wait until the boy is properly, ah, civilized.”
By which, Aodhan assumed, the knight meant ‘enchanted up to the eyeballs.’ Seelie were just as happy to steal from each other as from the unseelie. No doubt Ferghal wanted to make sure Kevin was securely bound to his own court before he risked parading the boy in front of his peers.
“Very wise,” Cathy said. “I gather the child is causing you some difficulties?”