“In truth, I fear there is little she could do,” Cuan replied. “Save possibly aggravate the situation. The Wild Hunt are forbidden from entering the fae lands, and the unseelie fae hate them even more than they hate the seelie. It is possible that Lady—ah, that Maeve would not even open the portal, if such an enemy lurked nearby.”
“Then we’re doing this now.” Despite her brave words, Cathy hesitated. “Um, what exactly do I have to do?”
“Merely speak from your heart, Mistress Cathy.” Cuan offered her a small smile, though his stance stayed tense, ready for combat. “You are your son’s mother, and you have the right to demand his return. Speak, and the circle will carry your words into my realm.”
“Just don’t go into the circle,” Tamsin said urgently. “I was lucky to escape the fae realm myself, and that was with Cuan there to help me. If you fall into Maeve’s clutches, we’ll have no way to rescue you.”
Cuan nodded, jaw tightening. “Maeve will not risk crossing the circle, for fear of drawing the wrath of the Wild Hunt. But she will do everything in her power to tempt you to cross it yourself. My people cannot lie, but high sidhe nobles are exceptionally skilled at twisting the truth. Listen to my mate, Mistress Cathy, and do not enter the circle. No matter what Lady Maeve says.”
Tamsin squeezed her hand. “We’ll be right here if you need us.”
Cathy swallowed hard and nodded again. Leaving Cuan and Tamsin behind, she cautiously approached the stone circle.
It didn’t look like much. The stones weren’t carved, or even large. Just five lumpy, waist-high rocks, arranged in a rough circle.
But the darkness between them…
“Hello?” It came out as a high-pitched squeak. Cathy moistened her lips and tried again. “Um, is anyone there?”
Her words face-planted into the space between the stones. The cold night air hung heavy and dead. Nothing stirred.
Kevin. She forced her shoulders back, summoning memories of her son. His cheeky, gap-toothed smile; his small damp hand in hers, warm and trusting. How tiny he’d seemed, and how heavy, the first time she’d held him in her arms.
“Lady Maeve of the unseelie fae!” This time, her voice rang out like a hunting horn, clear and sharp. “You have what is rightfully mine, and I demand his return!”
“You view your child as no more than a possession, then?”
Cathy’s heart attempted to leap out of her chest. Behind her, she heard the hiss of Tamsin’s indrawn breath.
A tall, inhumanly elegant woman had appeared in the center of the circle. Except she hadn’t appeared. Cathy’s gaze had been fixed on that exact spot, and she knew it had been empty an instant ago… yet even she couldn’t have said precisely when the woman had arrived. One instant, she hadn’t been there; and the next, she always had been.
And she wasn’t a woman. Or rather, she was female… but she wasn’t remotely human.
Her ears swept to points even sharper than Cuan’s. Her cat-like eyes glittered like flawless rubies, angled and predatory. Intricate, looping lines and dots patterned her brow and ran across her slender, milk-white shoulders. The markings glimmered red-gold in the dimness, as though fire ran just under the fae woman’s skin.
She was undeniably beautiful, but in the same way that a tiger was beautiful; all burning power and untouchable grace. Cathy tightened her grip on her frying pan.
She fought to keep her voice level, and almost succeeded. “You have my son. I want him back.”
Maeve’s perfect eyebrows rose slightly. “Even if he does not wish to return?”
It took every ounce of willpower Cathy possessed not to flinch. She forced herself to hold Maeve’s cold stare, lifting her chin.
“I know you’ve enchanted him to remove his memories,” she said, praying that Cuan was right and the spell would break as soon as Kevin saw her. “But he’s still my child, and he belongs with me. No matter how you’ve twisted his mind.”
“Twisted?” Maeve sounded genuinely offended. She shook her head, the tips of her silky black hair brushing against the barren ground. “I have healed the poor boy. Removed all agony and pain from his soul, and freed him to become his true self. Would you truly crush him back into a narrow cage, all for your own selfish needs? If you truly loved him as a mother should, you would put his happiness above your own.”
“Oh, you vicious little witch,” Tamsin hissed. “Don’t listen to her, Cathy.”
“These petty games ill suit you, Lady Maeve,” Cuan said. His tone was studiously polite, but his swords were up and ready. “The changeling child’s birth mother demands his return, as is her right. The bargain is broken, and so you must give back what was taken. You accomplish nothing by seeking to delay the inevitable.”
“I am obliged to answer the call of the child’s rightful parent,” Maeve observed, apparently to no one in particular. “I am not required to heed the yapping of ill-trained hounds.”
“But you have to listen to me.” Cathy raised her frying pan. “I know the rules, and I’m not going to let you squirm through some loophole. I want my son. Now.”
Maeve didn’t so much as blink. She just kept watching Cathy, that faintly amused smile playing on her blood-red lips.
“Something’s wrong.” Ice ran down Cathy’s spine. “Cuan, she’s not going to give him back.”