35. Maeve

The fae dragged Rowan and Flynn from the trees, binding their hands with vines and throwing them down beside us. Corbin managed to tug a hand free and smacked one of the green-guards in the face. Hope surged within me as he swept out a leg and toppled another two green-guards.

The surge of triumph soon faded as the fae overpowered Corbin again and forced some kind of drink from a waterskin down his throat. A moment later, Corbin’s head nodded against his chest. He was sound asleep.

Rowan looked worried. “The fae have a powerful sleeping draught,” he whispered to me. “If we’re not able to wake him up soon, he might remain asleep forever.”

They threw Corbin on a makeshift stretcher made from gnarled branches and a bed of woven vines, and forced us to march behind him down toward the barrows. As we came out of the forest, I noticed tracks winding through the undergrowth – steps fashioned from stones and roots leading in all directions, lit with dangling lanterns that flickered in the gloom of the woods. Above our heads, platforms in the trees swarmed with fae. Baskets swung on vines between the platforms, carrying food and skins filled with liquid.

They marched us down between the barrows, along stone-lined dirt paths between dancing, jeering fae. Many held aloft platters of cakes and honeyed fruits, the cloying scent of all that sweetness mingling with the acrid smoke of a blazing bonfire.

The guards lined us up along one side of the bonfire and tossed Corbin’s body off the stretcher into a heap at our feet. Fae darted in to kick and bite him, and I tried to scream at them to stop, but whatever Blake had done to hold my throat was still in effect.

“Show me the humans,” a deep voice boomed.

The fae fell silent. I whipped my head up, my gaze falling on six wizened old hags wearing green and gold robes, each one holding one corner of an hexagonal litter, upon which sat a resplendent throne of vines, bedecked with garlands of flowers in dazzling jeweled tones.

And upon that throne sat a man whose presence exuded power.

The air around him crackled with energy that tugged at my bones. His eyes – like a pair of glittering emeralds – held me rapt, the curve of his smile strangely familiar, even though I’d never seen it before. My feet shuffled forward, desperate to reach him, to throw myself at his feet.

“I am Daigh, ruler of the united fae courts. I demand to know why you have breached the veil of our worlds,” the king roared, his voice soaring over the crowd of silent fae, booming off the surface of the drum skins, tearing through the narrow paths and on up the valley.

“Not technically,” Flynn shot up. “We’re actually dreaming right now. So this isn’t me in the flesh you’re talking to, it’s just a dream image and?—”

I tried to choke out a scream as a guard stabbed his bone knife into Flynn’s shoulder. Flynn howled and dropped to his knees, clutching the deep wound. Blood pooled between his fingers, and his face collapsed with pain.

No one stepped forward to help him.

The fae king – Daigh – didn’t flinch. A tiny sprite flitted around his head, holding up a wooden cup. The king took the cup and sipped, that familiar smile turning up further. “You seem real enough to me.”

“Don’t hurt him anymore!” Rowan said. “He’s no threat to you. None of us are.”

The king’s eyes flicked to Rowan, then back to me. Once more, that weird stab of…of something…twisted in my gut.

It wasn’t fear, although there was plenty of that, shuddering through my limbs. It was this tugging, crawling sensation that I should be able to put something together.

“Ah, they have brought with them the American,” Daigh sniffed. “I always detested that accent. I can see why my son silenced you. It’s a shame to hear such linguistic atrocities from your lips, but in time, I’m hopeful you can be corrected. Maeve Moore, would you care to explain why you have broken the treaty to step into our realm?”

I was no longer surprised that this king knew my name. All the other fae seemed to. I pointed at my throat. Blake waved his hand, and with a gush of air my voice returned. “We came to take back the children you stole from Crookshollow,” I said, pronouncing each word carefully, ensuring all the muscles worked as they were supposed to. “That is against our accord. You have broken the treaty.”

“Treaty?” Daigh snorted. He spat a mouthful of wine on the earth in front of us. “What you call a treaty, we call slavery. We call unlawful occupation. We’ve been trapped in this dwindling world, the shadow of our true birthright, by you colonialist usurpers. We have watched – helpless and seething – for centuries as you humans scoured the earth, tearing down the forests and building roads and shopping centers.” The king screwed up his face as though he’d tasted something disgusting. “You have squandered the paradise you unrightfully took from us, and we refuse to honor the laws between our people that were designed purely to contain us while you took what you wanted for yourselves.”

“What’s all this bollocks?” Arthur narrowed his eyes.

“This bollocks, Fire Witch, means that we’re no longer content to rule over this dwindling valley while humankind poisons our rightful home. Your weapons of iron imprisoned us here, and your historians allowed us to fall out of knowledge, to become creatures of myth and superstition. But we have a weapon the likes of which you cannot even imagine, and unlike you, we have been content to lie in wait until the time is right for us to return to our rightful home, to put back the damage you had done.”

“You’re dangerous,” Flynn yelled. “You hurt innocent people. You steal their children and drown sailors and lead ramblers into the woods to starve. You couldn’t live alongside humans without hurting us, so don’t talk bollocks about your rights being violated, especially not to an Irishman.”

“Is not anyone dangerous when their homes are threatened?” The King glowered back. “When the barbarian hordes descend over the hillside, swords raised, murder in their eyes? What would you do, Water Witch, to save your precious castle?”

“But that was centuries ago!” Flynn yelled. “Millions of humans live peacefully here in England now. You can’t just push them all out of their homes.”

“Oh, I don’t plan on forcing you all to go live in France,” the fae king said with a dark chuckle. I waited for him to explain what he did plan to do – he seemed to be into that old-school I’m-the-villain-so-I’ll-reveal-all-my-plans-right-before-I-kill-you vibe. But Daigh didn’t fall to the cliche. He waved his hand, as if the conversation were boring him. He addressed his nearest guard. “Throw them outside. Let the court faeries have their fun with them. Return through the gateway and compel a human to enter their castle and destroy their human bodies so they can’t return. Burn them all like the witches they are.”

“No!” I cried.

“Maeve,” Rowan spoke my name in his quiet voice, trying to soothe me. But it was no good. Panic rose up in my throat. I knew the spell I performed – if their bodies died while they were in the dream with me, their spirits would be trapped in the dream forever, unable to leave, unable to wake up, unable even to adhere to external logic.

The king smiled. “Ah, that loosened her tongue.” He jabbed a long, thin finger at me. “Of course, you will spare Maeve from the fire, but you must return her body to me. I’m keeping her.”

He’s what? My gaze fell on Blake, standing behind the throne, the flickering lantern-light shimmering off the silver-streaked black hair that streamed down his back. That coldness in his eyes, the sheer ease with which he’d tricked me…that was what happened to a human who was kept by the fae.

‘I’m not staying with you,” I spat, struggling against the fae that held me.

“You do not have a choice.”

“But why?” I asked. “What if I gave my life for one of them? Why keep me? I’m the least powerful witch.”

The king’s lips curled back, flashing me the coldest, most haunting smile. “Because you are my daughter.”