Chapter Twenty

 

 

Iain and James had weaved their way through the festival grounds, asking about their friend and being sent in the direction of the southeast border of the forest, citing that a ginger girl and Cai had headed in that direction with a handful of men. There were hushed, anxious murmurings of some of the festivalgoers in that area, and a grim silence had fallen over others as they pointed toward the forests.

As James walked into the cool, damp forest down a winding and sloping deer trail, he saw the forest anew. There weren’t any blackthorn trees—just oak and elm and birch—but he wondered which plants and animals held magic to be manipulated and what secret powers the unassuming mushroom, patch of moss, or scavenged animal bones contained.

Iain was right about the Iron Guard. When they saw the line of soldiers and trucks moving like ants on the distant road below, the brothers exchanged grim looks.

Minutes later, gunshots exploded through the air in the distance. Iain grabbed his shoulder, but he did not need to shove James this time—he had learned from the chaos that broke out at the Iron Guard camp at the dwarf caves that gunshots meant down.

The only sounds were of their own shallow breaths and James’s heart thudding in his ears. They were too far from whatever was going on to hear anything else besides sounds of gunfire.

After a minute, Iain gestured for them to get up. As he rose on shaking legs, James asked, breathless, “Do you think Deirdre’s—?”

Before he even got the phrase out, Iain tensed up, whispered something to himself, and then produced his axe from his pack. The brothers rushed forward without another thought across the rocky terrain, through the trees and toward the area where the shots had come from.

They did not get far before they were caught.

“Looks like you missed all the action,” a gruff and familiar voice said to their left. Cai was standing there with his arms folded, and there was a fresh wound on his shoulder. Then he gestured for them to follow, holding up a finger when James opened his mouth to ask questions.

Scowling, James lagged behind while his brother jogged to catch up with Cai’s pace, falling in line beside him. Every time his brother looked at the man, it was like he saw gleaming armor where there was actually grime and dirt.

“You’re injured,” Iain pointed out. “I could take a look at—”

“It’s nothing.”

“Is everyone—?”

“Oh, the faery girl is fine. Don’t you worry.”

Iain just scratched at the back of his neck, at a loss for words for a moment before saying, “You decided to stay and help.”

Cai smiled wryly. “Uh-huh. But don’t think it was just your little speech that swayed me. There were several factors. So wipe that cheeky smile off your face.”

Iain just kept grinning, walking with purpose, his posture straight.

It was not long before they came to a clearing in the woods; there were Iron Guard soldiers struggling on the ground, held down by hands of Earth and silenced by Shadows.

All that magic… It’s so powerful.

As they neared, James could barely pry his gaze from the magic, wondering how he could replicate it or if there was anything in Cecil’s notes about Shadow Magic; however, when he did look up, he saw his brother wasn’t looking at the magic but at Deirdre.

She spun around to face them, lively and grinning, and then she bounded over. Iain reached out to steady her as she barreled toward him, but it did him no good as she simply ran right through his open hands and threw her arms around him, pulling him into an embrace.

Iain froze, his hands suspended.

“You were right!” Deirdre let go of him and stepped back. “This magic—it’s part of me, and I wouldn’t trade it for anything. Did you see? Did you see what we did? The magic and I took out all those soldiers, and it was as easy as breathing!”

“You’re really getting the hang of it, yeah?” Iain grinned. “You look good. Confident, I mean. It really suits you.”

Deirdre giggled. “I am confident, and I do feel like I’m finally understanding the magic and everything…” She trailed off, her eyes narrowing slightly as they fell on James. She half reached for him like she might hug him too, then stopped and clasped her hands in front of her.

Maybe she didn’t realize I left her? But I guess she looks kinda mad.

Rocking back on his heels, James started. “So what kind of magic did you—?”

“You ditched me,” Deirdre whispered, leaning close and pointing at him. “I was terrified you’d been lost, and I couldn’t find you—”

Iain was looking between the two of them, his head tilted. He couldn’t have heard what Deirdre was whispering, but James was not about to let her tattle on him. It would ruin everything.

“It was just for a minute,” James countered quickly. “I thought you were following me. I guess you, um, got distracted or something.”

Deirdre’s pale violet eyes flashed. She stepped closer, arms folded tight, and whispered, her voice tight and strained like she might cry, “And now you’re lying to my face. That isn’t what friends are supposed to do.”

“I am your friend. You’re just… wrong.” The hurt in her eyes really twisted the knife, but James fought back against his guilt, pushing it aside for now. Wanting to get away, he strode onward to the clearing with his head down.

Cai and Iain caught up to him, talking. He didn’t catch what they were saying until Deirdre began to jump in place with excitement. “Come on! Someone’s waiting for you. Someone who misses you both so much!”

They reached the clearing with the soldiers, and James looked up from the ground when Iain grabbed him, his fingers like a vise around his arm. “Iain, what are you—?”

“Mum?” Iain’s voice was faint, strained. “It’s Mum.”

James froze, his breath trapped in his lungs.

How many times had he imagined this moment, finding her or her coming home? He had always known and rehearsed in his head exactly what he would say to her. But all those words faded away when he saw her for the first time in six years.

She was different and the same as on the day that she had left. Her dark, wavy hair was completely down, not braided in the front, and she wore no colorful headscarf. She was thin, and she was standing stiffly, tense. But her eyes were just the same as they’d always been as they fixed on them—brown and warm like the richest spices, comforting, and bright.

Iain’s axe hit the ground with a thump and he went to her.

She had always seemed petite, but Mum looked as if she might break in two, her bones brittle and frail. “Brishen,” she said as Iain reached her, her voice just as fragile. She reached up and cupped his face, trembling. “You were just a boy when I last saw you…”

“Mum.” Iain bent to her level and wrapped his arms around her. The moment he did, her tense posture slackened, and she gasped and began to weep. Iain buried his face against her shoulder.

James jolted as he felt a hand on his arm, the gesture unfreezing him. Deirdre was looking at him, nodding to his family and telling him to go to them. When James walked forward, Deirdre stepped out of the way, her hands clasped and a faint smile on her lips.

“I’m so sorry…,” Mum was saying, still holding Iain close.

“No, Mum,” Iain whispered. “No. It’s— You did what you had to. For Jal.”

“You’ve taken such good care of your brother.”

His voice tight, Iain barely managed, “I… I don’t think I have, Mum. I don’t know if I have.”

“Why would you say that? Brishen?” Mum reached for his face, but he could barely look at her. When he pulled back, he roughly wiped at his damp eyes with his sleeve.

When he saw James standing there, he straightened, composing himself, and beckoned him over. James had never expected to feel hesitant or shy in front of Mum, all the times he had envisioned finding her or saving her. All the fear faded when she and Iain pulled him into an embrace.

“Don’t go,” James whispered, barely aware he had spoken aloud, like saying what he wished he’d said as a child now would change what had happened then.

They stayed like that for a long moment, squeezing each other tightly.

When Mum pulled back, she wiped at her eyes and laughed brightly. “Look at you, Jal,” she said, standing back to give him a once-over. When she studied his face, both joy and pain flickered there. “You look so much— You’re so handsome, and— Is that my scarf?”

James grinned, running his fingers over the material. “I’ve worn it because I knew we’d find you. I knew you hadn’t just left us. And when Marko gave us your letters, we went after you. We were going to find you and rescue you from the Cait Sidhe. We figured it all out from your letters.”

“How did you find us?” Iain asked.

Mum shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut tight. “I… I escaped. I heard that he was looking for you, Jal, and I couldn’t—”

“He let you go?” James asked, breathless. “The Cait Sidhe?”

“No. I ran. He wouldn’t let me leave.”

James’s stomach went cold, but he did not want to feel that aching, familiar disappointment now, not when he should be celebrating seeing his mum again and not when everything should finally be okay again.

“And then your friend Deirdre found me,” Mum said, her mouth stretching into a smile. “And she brought me to you.”

The brothers looked to their friend, who was standing with her hands clasped and pressed against her mouth, her eyes gleaming. Mum gestured for her to come over, to join them, but Iain got to her first.

“You’re brilliant! Deirdre, you’re amazing!” Iain ran over to her and embraced her, lifting her up and twirling her around once before setting her back down gently on her feet.

Deirdre’s eyes went wide with shock as it happened, but then she let out a shriek of laughter.

Then, realizing what he had just done, Iain held up his hands, placating, his face flushed, and said, “Er, I’m sorry. That was— I got a little carried away, yeah?”

“It’s fine,” Deirdre said, giggling, rocking back on her heels. “That was kind of fun!”

“It’s not fun when he does it to me—like when I won that essay contest,” James cut in. “Usually there’s a headlock and a hair ruffle thrown in there. But I guess, uh, he decided not to do that to you.”

“Well, of course I wouldn’t.” Iain crossed his arms, clearly unaware that James was teasing him.

Deirdre snorted a laugh, covering her mouth.

At that point, Cai cleared his throat and stepped in, apparently ready to interrupt with some terrible, unwanted information about the Iron Guard. Mum grabbed James’s hand when he tensed.

James expected Cai to make some kind of snide remark about their reunion and was surprised when he didn’t.

“You’ve all seen the Iron Guard heading for the festival grounds,” Cai said, gruff. “We need to decide here and now what each of us is willing to do. The fact remains, the military is coming, and they will not hesitate to cut down anyone who gets in their way.”

Iain, his expression hard, opened his mouth to speak, but Mum spoke first. “Then we must leave before they even get here. The Master is after James. We need to leave before he finds him.”

His mouth was dry, but James said, “I agree with Mum, but we can’t leave without telling people the army’s coming.”

Iain looked between him and Deirdre and then nodded. For once, they seemed to be in agreement. “The Iron Guard—they’re here for us. And we’ll do our best to stay safe, but we’ve got to warn the Summer Court about what Dad’s planning.”

At the mention of their father, Mum sucked in a breath.

“James and I made a promise to Deirdre,” Iain continued quietly, gesturing to his friend next to him. “And I have to see it through. And I have a responsibility to try to warn the Court.”

Mum was already shaking her head like she was saying no to a toy in a shop they wanted, her expression stern. “We are leaving right now. I have just gotten you back, and I am not losing you.” She planted her foot solidly on the ground. “No more magic. No more faeries. No more war. And… and we will simply go someplace where the Master will never find us.”

James’s hold on his mother’s hand slackened. No more magic?

He had never thought that Mum would want them to go back—not to Neo-London but back to how their lives used to be. That wasn’t what he wanted anymore.

“Mum.” James turned to her. “I have to— We have to see the Summer Court. It’s like Iain said—we promised Deirdre. And… and I can still find a way to break the Cait Sidhe’s deal. You just have to trust me.”

Mum gaped at her sons, not quite believing that they had both talked back to her. Had they been younger, she might have given them a little smack to the backs of their heads with her hand.

She still might, given her expression.

“Deirdre,” Iain said suddenly, looking to her. “What do you think we should do? I think we should defer to you since it was your idea to come out here to scout.” But he looked at her with a faint, admiring smile, like he already knew what she was going to say.

“We have to stay and help,” Deirdre said resolutely, sticking her chin out. “We have to defend the festival.”