The Hunters skirted the edges of Fianna, avoiding anyone who might question them. Even once we were on Castle Hill, I knew there’d be no Finn looming up out of the darkness to stand between me and my captors. Yet somehow, that comforted me. It meant that the Queen needed to hide. And well she should! When the Ri returned . . .
Hunters surrounded me entirely once we reached the castle, giving me no chance to attract anyone’s attention. They took me to a dark, empty chamber in the guest quarters. I hardly had the strength to care—or to take advantage of the fact that they’d loosened my hands. I’d run far and fast as I led the Hunters away from Ionwyn, and then I’d been marched back.
It was a wonder I could stand.
But I stood straight as a soldier when the Queen walked into the room, followed by—
Father.
I threw myself at him.
My fingers had barely brushed his tunic before I was dragged back.
“Who is this maid?” Father gazed at me pityingly. “Why does she cling to me?”
“She’s gone mad, I think,” answered the Queen. “Poor child.”
“I leave her to you, dearest.” Father smiled as he turned to leave. “Perhaps you can save her as you saved me.”
I couldn’t call out, so I clapped my hands.
Father swung to face me, puzzled.
I gestured toward myself. Look at me!
His polite expression faltered, and I thought he might recognize me. Finally, he nodded: not a father, but a king bestowing a benediction.
Then he left.
The Queen waited before speaking, giving fear room to blossom.
“After six long years, Andaryn, have you not learned how futile it is to defy me?” She leaned close. “How dangerous?”
Stand, said the voice inside me. Just stand.
So I stood, legs trembling beneath me, and learned that sometimes standing is its own form of courage.
The Queen once again circled me slowly, like a snake throwing coil after coil of its body around me.
“Where is the child?” she asked the nearest Hunter.
“No child,” he snarled.
Her gaze flashed to me. But I looked straight ahead, counting the building stones on the wall behind her.
She drew her hand to slap me but stopped. “I swore your life would be sacred, and I will extend that vow even further. I will not touch you until our agreement has been met.”
“Strike her,” she told one of the Hunters.
He backhanded me.
I stumbled back, fire and fear streaming through me. But it was a release too. I didn’t have to wait for the worst to happen anymore. I knew where I stood.
I glared at her as I licked the blood from the corner of my mouth and realized: the Queen was scared. I knew fear—I’d lived with it for years—and I saw it in her face.
I regained my footing and stared at the wall opposite me, mentally tracing the odd shapes of the stones and the mold that mottled it.
Snake-like, the Queen’s hand flashed toward me. She didn’t strike, oh no. She yanked the chain that held the Kingstone fragment around my neck.
I flailed out, trying to regain it, but she’d already taken it. A half second later, she’d knotted it around her own neck.
The Queen traced a feather-light finger over my shoulder, but I didn’t look from the wall. “No more nettle cloak. No Kingstone. And no boy-child.”
She spoke a single, harsh word, and the Hunter dropped to his knees, whimpering with pain.
The Queen turned back to me. “How did you learn about the nettles? What else did you make from them?”
I didn’t answer.
“Miserable old woman! My only regret is that she was dead before we found her. What did she tell you?”
Finally, I looked at the Queen.
I slowly brought a finger to my lips, the lips she’d closed six years ago. Shhh.
The Queen reared back, livid, and grabbed the cloak of the nearest Hunter. “Find the child! Kill anyone who shelters him, and bring him to me.” She slanted a glance at me. “You are not required to bring all of him to me—but he must be alive.”
I dove at her, slapping her face with all the strength I could muster. She fell against the wall, and I rushed forward to strike her again.
The Hunters held me back, and the Queen raised her hand to—
The door was flung open. Finn strode through it, followed by the Ri.
He slowly took in the scene before him: the Queen with my handprint on her cheek; me held back by two Hunters, blood on my lip. I’d spent the night running for my life through the forest, through nettles. I must have looked as wild as I had when I first rushed out of the forest.
I waited for him to set everything right.
Instead, the Ri stared at the Queen, pain so plain on his face that I thought he’d been wounded, even though there was no blood on his tunic.
And the Queen? Something washed across her face: longing and . . . love?
“Son,” she whispered.
No. It couldn’t be.
But the Ri didn’t tell her to take back the lie. His face paled, and I realized there had been a wound. It was just that the blood didn’t show.
The Queen was his mother, banished from Fianna after killing her lover. And the golden-haired king who took the Queen from the old woman’s cottage?
That was Corbin’s father.
Finally, the Ri looked at me. I let him see my fear, tried to show that the Queen—his mother—was the one I’d been fleeing all along. I needed him to ask why my lip was swollen and my clothes were torn, but his gaze was closed to me. Vacant.
Father had looked that way when he returned from the forest.
The Ri opened his arms to the Queen. “Mother! What happened here?”
It would’ve hurt less if he’d struck me. I sagged against the Hunters who held me.
“Keep her away from me!” The Queen clung to him. “Do you see what she’s done?”
Finn didn’t believe a word. Hadn’t he told me he’d learned long ago not to listen to her? He watched me instead, as if he could see all that had happened in my face.
I prayed he could.
“I know this girl,” continued the Queen. “I met her in the forest years ago. Her name is Ryn or something equally ridiculous.”
Finn muttered a curse under his breath. Even the Ri seemed surprised, though he didn’t speak, as if he too had given his tongue to the Queen.
“She had a baby with her. I think she’d stolen it from some poor peasant, for it wasn’t hers.”
When the Ri didn’t speak, Finn did. “That child is the Ri’s ward.”
The Queen looked horrified. “I saw her steal him away tonight and sent my guard to bring them back! They returned with her alone. When I questioned her about the boy, she struck me!”
And still the Ri didn’t answer.
“There were men who walked with her, sometimes. I fear she’s taken your ward to them.” Her voice faltered in the Ri’s silence.
Perhaps he hadn’t lost himself to her. Perhaps his silence only masked his fury.
The Queen’s eyes filled with tears, and she looked up at her son. Her son! My skin crawled at the thought. “Have I displeased you? I thought only of the boy.”
“How many?”
“What?” asked the Queen.
“How many men walked with her?” The Ri’s voice cracked under some great strain.
The Queen smiled to hear the jealousy in his voice. “Six men. If my guards find them as they search for the child, they’ll see to them.”
“You sent your own men out to hunt them?”
Hunt. Perhaps he was not under her power yet.
“To rescue the child who is your ward.”
The Ri nodded slowly, as if absorbing the news. “Where is Ionwyn?”
Finn didn’t take his eyes off the Hunters, his hand resting on his sword hilt. “No sign of her, my Ri.”
The Ri didn’t blink.
Think! I wanted to shout. You know there’s a reason Ionwyn isn’t here. You said your mother was heartless—why do you trust her now?
But I’d seen my father. I knew why the Ri trusted his mother.
“You’re sure the girl walked with six men?” He spoke thickly, as if half-asleep.
“Yes. Six. But I do not believe she lay with all of them.”
I lurched forward to give her other cheek a matching slap, but the Hunters kept me pinned between them.
The Ri turned away from his mother and stood before me.
I turned my head away. How could he lose himself to her so quickly?
“Listen to me.” Something bright as fire threaded his voice.
I looked back, startled. His gaze was as real as touch, asking me to understand. “Lady Ryn, I cannot shelter you.”
This wasn’t how I’d hoped it would be: the first time the Ri spoke my name, to tell me he’d leave me under the Queen’s power.
I cannot shelter you.
Then the memory of the trial rolled over me. Once more, I felt flagstones under my knees, the weight of my braid pulled over my shoulder. Saw the Ri’s face as he knelt and warned me, If you challenge him to this, I cannot shelter you.
And I heard, just as clearly, what he dared not speak with the Queen so near: I will support you, even in this.
Even if it looked like he was leaving me.
“Do you understand me?”
I nodded.
One last look, asking if I could meet what was before me.
I can. I will.
He pressed his lips together and turned to his mother. “I’ll see to the search for Carrick myself. Ryn will remain in the dungeon until I return tomorrow.”
The Queen melted with relief. “I will send some of my own men to ride with you. How wise of you to understand so quickly, son! You are like your father.”
The Ri flinched but covered it with a half-smile.
“High praise indeed.” He nodded to Finn. “Bring Ryn. I’ll imprison her myself. And then, we’ll set my house in order.”