| |
Staring into my father’s eyes felt like looking into eternity. Those eyes had watched empires rise and fall, seen humanity at its best and worst. And as they stared into mine, I felt my soul being weighed and measured.
“Touch one hair on her head and I’ll shoot you, I swear it.” My mother’s voice wavered, but the hands holding Bruce did not. She stood not ten feet away, her shotgun pointed right at the Winter King.
He turned his head, regarded the weapon, and then smiled.
“I did not think I’d ever see you again, Kara Byrne,” he said, his voice softer. “It is good to see the years have not robbed you of the steel that is in your soul.”
“Don’t you flirt with me, Oberon. I can see your game a mile off, and you’ll not be dragging my daughter into it like you did me.”
Oberon laughed. “Is that what you tell yourself to justify what you did?”
“What I did?” She shook her head.
“Yes, you stole away in the dead of night, pregnant with our daughter.” The air around us grew tense as his voice caught in his throat.
“I didn’t know how you would react,” my mother stammered.
“You never gave me a chance,” he said, voice sharp. “You simply took her and ran.”
“The Winter Court is not a playground for children,” my mother said. “I barely survived it.”
“You rose above it,” Oberon replied, “and so would she—had you given her the chance.”
“I couldn’t risk losing her,” my mother whispered. “There isn’t a day that goes by where I don’t wonder what might have been, but then I look in her eyes and see the life she’s lived free of intrigue, deceit, and death. And I feel like I did right by her. Can you not see that? Look around you. Is this what you want for her?”
“It has found her all the same.” Oberon sighed. “Put down the gun, Kara. It isn’t enough to stop me, and I would never harm either of you.”
My mother lowered the shotgun, cracked the stock, and dropped it in the sand.
Oberon looked behind her. “Consider your duty done here, Silas. I am in no further danger.”
“But, my lord.” The man in the felt hat slipped out of his glamour, and my mother startled. He was holding the blue steel dagger, its blade still slick with blood. His proximity to my mother was not a coincidence, and it bothered me immensely.
“Will you counsel your king?” Oberon raised an eyebrow. “I am at my limit for defiance this evening. You would do well to return to Caisleán Geimhreadh and ready the legion. The Leanansidhe is to be found. You will lead the hunt.”
Silas bowed deeply. “Of course, my liege, at once.”
He wiped the blood from his dagger and muttering something I couldn’t quite catch, parted the Veil and disappeared into Faerie.
“Who is he?” I asked. “He’s been following me for days.”
“Weeks,” my father replied. “I hid you as long as I could, Nora, but when I learned the Red Cap had made his move, I knew it was over. Others would learn your secret and you wouldn’t be safe. So I sent the Winter Shard to see to your safety.”
The thought both comforted and bothered me at the same time. Clearly, my father cared, which was more than I’d ever hoped for. At the same time, he was making decisions about my life without consulting me. That irritated me. If he knew I was in danger, could he not have said something about it?
“I’m not a child,” I replied. “I dealt with the Red Cap. I can look after myself.”
“Your courage fills me with pride,” Oberon said with a smile. “You’re like your mother in that way. But until the Leanansidhe showed her treachery, even I didn’t know the extent of the plot inside the Winter Court.”
“Your Court,” I replied, not letting him off the hook.
“Yes, but you have much to learn of our people, daughter. To be Fae is to fight for survival and supremacy. There are always those with ambitions to rise higher in station. The Leanansidhe isn’t the first, and she won’t be the last. Now that she’s fled, others will learn of you, Nora. Silas was a precaution, until I could draw out the traitors.”
“You could have warned me,” I said.
“And said what? Most of the creatures of Winter you’ve met have tried to kill you. Who would I have sent to bear such a warning? Silas? Would you have taken the word of a stranger as my own?”
He had a point there.
There was a growl as Bran padded between us, his eyes fixed on my father.
“Easy, boy,” I replied.
Oberon crouched down and stretched out his hand.
My eyes bulged as Bran padded forward and nuzzled his head against the Winter King’s gauntlet.
“Who is a good boy?” My father cooed as he ruffled my dog’s coat. “I said most, didn’t I? You have always looked out for her, haven’t you? I never had any doubt, my friend. Forgive me for sending Silas. It was a father’s fear and not any reflection on you.”
Bran barked twice, his tongue lolling happily as he drank in the praise.
“You know my dog?” I asked, realizing how silly the words sounded as they left my lips.
“My hound,” my father replied. “You thought he simply wandered into that park as a puppy?”
I felt like an idiot.
“I hear you named him Bran.” Oberon smiled. “It is a good name for a hound.”
He ruffled Bran’s coat once more and stood up, turning to my mother.
“You might have thought you were running from me, but I was never chasing you. I am Winter, and I could find my daughter anywhere in this world or mine. I trusted you to keep her safe and did all I could to ensure the same. That is why they came for you. If you were in peril, they knew I would come. The Leanansidhe is old enough to know I would not let history repeat itself.”
What did he mean by that?
He turned back to me. “Perhaps they thought your presence has made me weak and vulnerable to exploitation, or maybe they feared the strength your presence would bolster in the Court. Whatever the case, Nora, the Courts know you exist now. I cannot change that.”
“What does that mean?” I asked. “For me? I don’t know the first thing about being Fae.”
“You will learn,” he said.
“I like my life here,” I replied. “I’m not going anywhere.”
My father shrugged. “We can choose what we do, but not who we are. That die has already been cast.”
“I’m a hunter,” I said. “If they come for me, I will do what I must.”
He placed a hand on my wounded shoulder, and I felt a wave of power wash over me. “I would expect nothing less.”
My father swept a hand through the air like one might brush aside a curtain. As he did, the Veil parted, revealing a courtyard fashioned of black stone.
Two dozen fully armored ice trolls stood armed and ready for battle. Around them, dozens of Winter Sidhe were waiting for his command.
“Where are you going?” I asked.
“Home.” He scooped up his bearskin cloak off the wooden crate.
“What is in there?” I asked moving toward the ornate box.
“It’s empty now,” my father replied, stroking the cloak. “They used it to smuggle Mathanmòr out of the palace.”
I studied the cloak. It was a fearsome creature to be sure, but hardly worth risking one’s life for.
“Why would they steal it in the first place?” I asked.
“Mathanmòr and I have been together since I was a boy. They do not have my true name, so the Leanansidhe needed something of significance to me in order to draw me here. It was a trap, but I will see him restored and the witch’s magic removed.”
“So you’re leaving? Just like that?” I asked softly, caught a little off-guard by his rush to depart.
“A king’s work is never done. I must attend to the hunt.”
I stared at the assembled force, with Silas at its head, and I almost felt sorry for the Leanansidhe. Almost.
“When will I see you again?” I asked.
“When you’re ready to introduce your children to their grandfather,” he called over his shoulder. “Do not perpetuate your mother’s mistake.”
The Veil closed, leaving my mother, Bran, and me standing by the almost entirely dried-up lake.
Sleet stirred in my mom’s pocket. “Is he gone?”
“Yes,” I replied, my voice little more than a whisper. Right now, I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not.
“Well, that could have gone much worse,” my mother replied.
“Worse?” Alasdair called, his voice gruff.
Face to face with my father, I’d forgotten he was there.
“The Leanansidhe escaped after defiling one of the Summer Court’s sacred sites. I’d just gotten through telling them they have nothing to be concerned about with you, Nora Byrne, and you’re the bleeding daughter of the Winter King. The Summer Queen will think I’ve lied to her. Do you realize the position you’ve put me in?”
“I’m the same Nora Byrne I was yesterday,” I replied. “You told the truth. I didn’t kill Solanus, and we’ve run off those who did.”
I looked around the once-pristine lake where what remained of the Burning Hand were scattered. “Let us hope this is enough blood to sate their need for vengeance. I have things to do.”
“Oh you do, do you?” Alasdair gawked. “You might be a bonnie lass, but you’re a rocket if ever I’ve met one.”
“Rocket?” I asked, brushing the sand off my robes.
“Mad as a hatter,” he answered, shaking his head. “Maybe one too many hits to the head, but you’ve lost sight of sense.”
“No, I’m just tired of being afraid. If they want me, they can come. But in the meantime, I came here for a holiday, and I intend to have it. So you can either get with the program or jump on the first ferry home. It’s your choice.”
Alasdair clenched his fists, and it did all kinds of pleasant things to the muscles in his chest.
Focus, Nora. You’ve had enough excitement for one night.
I didn’t know about that. There was some excitement I could use a little more of in my life.
Alasdair let out a sigh. “I can’t keep your stubborn arse alive if I can’t see you, now can I?”
“That’s the spirit,” I replied, putting an arm around him. “It’s a long walk back to the resort, and you know all my secrets. So why don’t you tell me more about that tattoo on your back?”
He shook his head. “Not on your life, Nora Byrne. Don’t push your luck.”
He’d stood shoulder to shoulder with us against the Burning Hand, so I didn’t doubt his loyalty. But I did wonder how someone with ties to a cabal of known warlocks had found their way to the Camp.
The quads were a few minutes’ walk away, but the moon was full and the beach looked too inviting. So I steered him toward it. Bran padded along beside us as my mom fell in quietly behind us.
“So how do you think Etha fared at the quidditch?” I asked, changing the topic.
“Griffins versus the Death Eaters,” Alasdair said. “He’ll have had the time of his life.”
“You’re kidding?” I laughed.
“Not at all. Why do you think he was so keen to babysit? I doubt I’d have got him out of the Camp for any less.”
My smile grew wider. For everything I thought I knew about Alasdair and Etha, it was moments like this that reminded me just how much I didn’t.
Fortunately, we were booked at the resort for a week, and I had every intention of getting answers out of them both while we relaxed with some well-earned piña coladas.
I had no doubt that Alasdair was right. Trouble was coming. I could almost smell it on the salty southeasterly breeze sweeping in from across the bay. But for once in my life, winter, work, and worries could take a number and get in line.
The End
Nora will return in Ghosts At The Coast, you can pick up your copy here. You can also find a preview in the following pages.
Don’t miss any new releases. For all the hot gossip, exclusive short stories, and more, you can join my newsletter here.