Chapter 14

Fourteen

Rhoswyn

T he Apporas is a quiet river, I think to myself as we pause atop its southern bank two days after the decision to cut short the pilgrimage. The near-black water twinkles under the setting sun, splitting the forest in half. On one side, lush green summer and on the other, the flame-bright colours of autumn. It’s serene yet chilling.

Lore sighs. “I suppose you want me to blink you across.”

“That was the plan,” Drystan replies dryly. “Unless you’re planning to make Rose swim.”

The redcap sighs from atop Wraith’s back as the barghest paces the waterline.

“Why can’t I just build her a bridge from the bones of her enemies instead?”

Caed snorts, the first sound I’ve heard from him in days. “Do you need any help with that? It sounds more fun than trekking through fairy land in silence. Ouch!”

“We agreed you weren’t going to provoke them,” Prae growls.

“Provoke them? I’m not the one religiously coating myself in her dust to make a point,” Caed retorts.

I whirl, pinning the rest of my Guard with a look. All of them wear some degree of shimmer, even Bree, who steals kisses when I least expect it. They’ve all been affectionate since we were reunited, and I foolishly thought it was just relief that we were all together again.

I didn’t realise they were using it as a pissing match.

“Tell me that’s not what that was,” I demand.

Jaro has the good sense to look guilty, Drystan just hardens his jaw, and Bree and Lore just shrug.

“Instincts,” Bree mutters, like that excuses it.

“At least it’s not fighting,” Titania chimes in weakly, popping up beside me.

My guides have been—in their own words— giving me space for the past two days. Aside from Maeve turning up to train me each morning, they’ve been leaving us alone in the hopes we’ll mend some bridges.

Which is what the white hart said we should do.

But the rift between Caed and the others seems more like a yawning chasm. Battle lines have been drawn, and I’m stuck, unable to bridge the divide.

All of my attempts to get Caed alone have been sabotaged. Even my short conversations with Prae have been watched closely. And now, apparently, I’ve been used as an unwitting pawn in a glittery pissing match?

I’m beginning to think Titania and Maeve had it right. Having a few level-headed females in my Guard would’ve been a lot easier.

The water’s calm surface begins to foam and bubble, drawing me out of my thoughts, and I frown.

“What is that?”

Jaro curses, and Drystan dismounts, drawing his sword. “Kelpie!”

Blizzard stomps, walking backwards, and without the dullahan to keep me in place, I grip the saddlehorn for dear life. Beside me, a ghostly sword appears, forming a defensive barrier between me and the river, and the rest of my Guard pause, as if waiting for it to take my head before they’re forced to face the more pressing threat.

A dark equine shape emerges slowly from the cool water. It’s not like any horse I’ve ever seen before. Its dripping fur is cut through with undertones of iridescent green, and its mane and tail are so long that they float around it like river weeds.

But most unsettling of all are its cloudy dead eyes. One glance into those fathomless depths makes me shiver. The death chill remains as it regards us, only dissipating when it dips its head in an unmistakable bow.

“Peace, Nicnevin, we mean no harm.” Its voice—if you can call it that—is the eerie trickle of water in the darkness, running down my spine like ice.

Oh Goddess, it has teeth. Sharp, wicked, pointed teeth.

As it speaks, a second kelpie rises from the river, then another. Soon, a full herd of water horses stand before us, tails whipping and ears flicking as they drip onto the bank.

“We seek no bargains with you,” Jaro says, his tone careful. “Let us pass.”

“Yours is not the bargain we’re here for.” The creature snorts wetly. “Queen Cressida has paid in full for the safe passage of the Nicnevin and her court to her camp on the banks of the Silfeyn.”

“Queen Cressida should be in Illidwen,” Drystan retorts, though he doesn’t dispute what the horse said.

Are they like fae? Unable to lie?

“She’s not in the capital.” The horse snickers impatiently, and Blizzard stamps a hoof in retort. “She fights on the front line, like a good queen should.”

“Isn’t she getting a bit old for that?” Maeve mutters, appearing beside me. “Honestly.”

My Guard are busy exchanging looks, communicating in that silent way of theirs. I let them. I have no idea what the kelpies are capable of, and I trust my mates to judge whether this is some ploy.

Jaro steps closer to the river horses and begins questioning them in a low tone, careful to keep just out of reach of their proud jaws and the thick lips that hide those terrifying fangs.

“I hate these things,” Prae murmurs, riding up behind me. “Do you have any idea how many soldiers we’ve lost to them?”

I raise a brow. “Don’t you mean how many soldiers Elatha lost to them?”

The Fomorian blushes a deeper shade of teal at the correction and nods. “They trick you into thinking they’re harmless, and the moment you touch them, boom , you’re drowned, and your bones are picked clean.”

“Is that why…” I wave a hand at the ghost sword still protecting me.

Prae snorts. “The only time he gets to use it now is when he’s protecting you. I bet he’s scared of going rusty without practice.”

Maeve—invisible to Prae—touches the blade with a finger and hums. “Curious. I can actually touch these…”

Does that mean Caed’s blades come from the Otherworld, like she does?

“We can’t take the Nicnevin to a battlefield!” Drystan snarls, his voice rising above the others, and I roll my eyes.

“If that’s where I have to go to get her Goddess-damned vow, then we’re going.” My voice cuts through their argument as I slip gracelessly from the saddle and grimace as my ankle gives way.

Before I can fall completely on my ass, a strong pair of arms catches me, surrounding me in the scent of bitter almonds and liquorice for a second before my saviour stiffens.

“I’m not hurting her.” Caed is pissed, and I risk a glance behind me.

The Fomorian has caught me, but Lore is perched on his shoulders, holding a blade to his blue throat, red blood spilling down the silver.

“No touching, remember?” The redcap offers a grin. “That means I get to pick a part of you to keep.” He cocks his head to one side. “Which ear do you like least?”

“Lorcan,” I snap. “Let him go.”

Lore topples backwards from Caed’s shoulders, turning the fall into an effortless somersault, only to blink before landing and snatch me away.

Once I’m secured in the redcap’s arms, he takes his hat and plops it on my head where it shrinks until it’s a tight knitted round cap.

“What the fuck?” Caed hisses. “I thought you’d forgiven me, you psycho.”

Lore whistles. “That doesn’t stop me wanting to dismember you—or anyone else—on a daily basis.”

“Enough,” Bree hisses, coming to stand between them. “The kelpies are telling the truth. Cressida has paid them to take us to her.” His mouth twists down. “Dragonfly, hold your breath. Whatever you see, you need to hold your breath.”

“She could just close her eyes,” Lore suggests.

Bree shakes his head. “She’ll just look, anyway.”

He’s right, but I blush and glance away like I don’t know what he’s talking about as Lore carries me over to the horses.

“When you touch them, you’ll stick to their fur.” Lore grins. “They’re almost as fun to travel with as I am.”

“Hold your breath,” Maeve reminds me. “Touch their necks when you’re ready, then brace yourself; this will be fast.”

“I don’t like this,” Jaro mutters, but he goes first anyway, reaching out to tangle his hand in the mane of the kelpie closest to him.

With a fierce whinny, the horse rears, then plunges back into the river, dragging Jaro with it.

Drystan is next, clenching his teeth as he beckons Blizzard forward. He touches the kelpie, allowing himself to be dragged beneath the waves. Then, to my surprise, his black stallion dives in after them.

Blizzard can… do whatever that thing does?

Before I can bend my mind around it, more splashes fill the air, and looking around, I realise it’s just me, my barghest, and Lore left.

“What about Wraith?” I ask.

“I’ll blink him to us when we know where we’re going,” Lore promises. “Barghests don’t like water much, anyway.”

Petting Wraith’s head, I take a reluctant step towards the kelpie.

“It is my honour, Nicnevin,” the horse promises. “I shall ride swift and true.”

Taking a deep breath, I touch his soggy mane.

My stomach drops out through my feet as I’m jerked into the freezing cold water, and the breath I was so carefully holding bursts free in a torrent of shocked bubbles.