7. Keira

Chapter 7

Keira

T he entrance courtyard is bursting with people. The royal court, those of my house, and the minor nobles. It is almost suffocating, with far too many bodies packed in between the main gate and the castle doors. I stand at the front of the crowd, where an empty column runs through our center. Voices bounce off the stone of the building, the wall and the pavers beneath our feet.

Nervous anticipation rolls through me, making my stomach churn.

I have watched the Mothers of Magic make their grand entrance through Appleshield Fortress countless times before, but today it is different. This time, I have a role to play.

Music fills the air, bleeding in from the band positioned where the orchards meet the bridge that leads to the guardhouse. Slow and harmonious, as instruments are plucked, strummed and blown, with wields of air amplifying the melody to reach my ears. The scent of roasting, sugared nuts looms in the air, hinting at the festivities to come. It fills my heart with the warmth of fond memories, with excitement and hope.

I duck my head into the clearing, and an excellent view opens before me through the gates. I can see the entire length of the road that winds up from the outer wall and through the orchards to Castle Appleshield. Crowds of villagers wait on either side of the road, waiting to pay their respects and offer their daughters to the pilgrimage.

A brooding presence materializes at my side, and I glance at the slender form of Prince Niall, then away, not acknowledging him.

“I heard what happened,” he murmurs.

“And what was that, exactly?” I don’t look at him.

Niall doesn’t take my bait. “Our father is a vicious man, and a bully. He can tear down those with the strongest of wills, and we both know that is not one of Finan’s characteristics. My brother does fight for you, in his own way. He tries.”

I turn on the prince and whisper harshly. “It is beneath you to make excuses for their bad behavior.”

Niall’s lips press into a thin line, and a muscle feathers in his jaw. “We had an arrangement, Keira. We were going to work together to make sure Finan reign isn’t a complete disaster. This kingdom needs you. Is that nothing to you?”

“Don’t speak to me of duty. Speak to your brother.” I hiss, but the heat has fizzles out of me. Damn. Prince Niall knows exactly how to tap into my guilt.

There is a desperation in his eyes. “You know I try every single day.”

“Give me time to cool off, Niall,” I snap. “Let me go on my pilgrimage. You and the rest of the kingdom will have your answer when I return.” I can no longer look him in the eye, but from my periphery, I register his long, scrutinizing stare, then he nods and leaves.

Twin brass horns sound from the top of the watchtowers, causing me to startle. At the far end of the road, a long column of women in white robes becomes visible before the outer gate, trailing off down the countryside as far as my eye can see. Mothers of Magic.

I will become one of them, if no one stops my pilgrimage.

Any woman who crosses into the Otherworld returns as a priestess. A Mothers of Magic. She is entitled to all of their privileges, no matter what she does with the rest of her life. The order does not require a woman to dedicate herself to the temple. She could be a mother and a wife. A queen. A warrior. Or she could live in one of the Priestesses’ Sanctuaries and work as a teacher of magic, a specialized wielder or healer.

The breath leaves me at the sight of those powerful women parading into our fortress. I am filled with awe at their presence, even at this distance. These Mothers of Magic are truly independent women.

There is a disturbance in the crowd to my left. A shuffling of bodies as someone pushes through. I stiffen at the familiar perfume of sandalwood and citrus.

“Keira. Please talk to me.” Finan doesn’t even bother to whisper.

“Have you no respect?” I hiss.

“This is important. You are important,” he retorts. “And you haven’t let me come near you in days. Not since…”

I whip around to him. “Not since you betrayed my trust, Finan. Not since you made it clear you don’t care which sister you marry, as long as you get a bit of magic in your heir.” My fists clenched tight at my sides. He visibly flinches. I am so tired of letting this man walk all over me.

“No. No. I never meant it. I’ve only ever wanted you, Keira. You have no idea what my father is like. The consequences of saying no to him. So, I tell him things I don’t mean, and fight the battle on the day they matter. Can you really hold a single moment of weakness against me?” He looks so vulnerable I almost believe him.

“Yes,” I snap. “I can hold it against you. A husband should fight for me every day . I’ll need you to have my back, if I move to the palace.”

Finan places his hands on either side of my face, caressing my cheek with his thumb. “We will make it work, Keira, I am sure of it. You will see that in time.”

I struggle to breathe. To think. “I need to work out what I want, Finan.”

“By going on this pilgrimage?” He drops his hands.

“Yes.”

“Please, Keira, don’t go. I couldn’t stand not knowing if you are safe that whole time. You know what high fae do to our women if they get their hands on them. It would crush me if you never came back. Please. I will give you anything else. I will announce right here, to all these people, that I choose you as my bride. Just don’t go .” His voice breaks.

“I am taking the pilgrimage, Finan,” I grind out.

“Why?”

“Because it is my choice.”

He stares at me with huge, puppy dog eyes, hurt rippling across his features.

I shake my head. This isn’t about him.

“Enjoy the festival, Finan.” I slip away from him, positioning myself between my father and Caitlin. Both had been staring daggers at our exchange and keep that heated gaze on the prince. Finan doesn’t even try to follow me.

The trumpets sound again in a long, brassy note, signaling the approach of the procession of priestesses to the gates of the inner wall.

There must be fifty women in that stretched out column, each as striking as the other. Ceremonial robes of white silk drape around their bodies in dozens of styles. Long, billowing sleeves extending past hands, short sleeves in puffs of fabric, or no sleeves at all with fur shawls. Loose bodices, tightly laced fabric corsets, gaping necklines or high necklines right up to a throat.

Some women wear veils over their faces, or draping down their hair. Others are adorned with a crown of white flowers, long feathers or animal horns protruding from headdresses, simple and curved. All wear furs.

I soak in individuality and sameness in wonderment. No woman needs to lose her identity to become a priestess.

Flows of magic are woven discreetly around them. The hair of the priestesses float gently in the air, perfect locks drifting upwards. The skin of many glow with the luminance of fire magic like splattered body paint across their skin in bright colors.

Halos of roaring flames surround some, and thin streams of rapidly flowing water encase others. Flowers the size of a fist sprout in the grasses along the road in their wake, the many bright petals blocking out the green of the meadow.

The high priestess leads the procession, riding on a saddled elk that has fine gold chains draping from its highly branched antlers. Her wizened hands hold its reins loosely.

Pride soars in me at the sight of her and a wide grin forms on my lips.

A mask of gold engraved with deep, swirling runes covers the top half of her face, and a stag’s antlers crown her head. A cascade of white feathers explode out from the sides of the mask, reaching out in great wings, making the entire headdress wider than her slim shoulders. I wonder how she stays upright at all with it on.

My father steps out into the center of the courtyard as the procession enters. “High Priestess Naomi. Mother. Welcome.” He helps my grandmother down from the elk, though she hardly looks like she needs it.

The high priestess, my grandmother, scans her sharp, grey gaze across the people amassed, not even blinking at the presence of the king.

“I bring the blessing of magic to enrich these lands.” Her voice carries upon the wind to all the people. “I open the sacred rite of the pilgrimage to all women and beckon forth the next generation of priestesses.”

The courtyard and the people beyond have fallen utterly silent in reverence for their high priestess. Even the musical instruments of the band have halted.

“Candidates for the pilgrimage, join us now,” the high priestess calls, then turns on her heel and continues the procession into the castle.

Caitlin leaves the crowd of the audience and joins the column of priestesses, walking amongst them with her chin held high. Other women follow her lead, bolstering their ranks of white robes.

I take a step toward that line of priestesses, and then another.

It feels like I move within another woman’s body. This surely cannot be my life. The hope and exhilaration of my old dream blooming to life makes my heart swell, and I join the procession without remorse or fear.

I can hardly contain my excitement as I practically bounce in my seat. Caitlin throws glances my way while we wait, then finally claps a hand down on my knee to stop my tapping leg.

The small ballroom has been converted into a classroom, the banquet tables removed and rows of seating placed in the middle instead. The dais is set up with massive chalkboards borrowed from the war rooms, for the use of the priestess educators.

I have heard of the universities in the capital of Sunbright City, but never imagined I’d attend a lecture. That I would have people to study with me.

“I can’t express how happy I am right now,” I say to Caitlin.

“I know. A lecture on the fae and their world.” She spreads out her arms. “It’s a dream come true for you.”

I beam a smile at her.

We are the first in the classroom, seated in the center of the front row. I don’t want to miss a single thing. Three women take a step into the room, then stop abruptly and hover in the doorway. Their gazes dart around the room, from the marble mosaic floor to the gold trimmings on the stucco of the walls.

I wave the women over. I met them yesterday, at a high tea for the pilgrims and priestesses. I wrack my brain for their names. Alice, Fiona, and Erin.

All three are huntresses from the same small village, clearly uncomfortable in their lord’s castle. I urge them to sit beside me and make small talk with them until the unease melts from their shoulders, while Caitlin analyses the rest of the pilgrims who gingerly enter the class.

“Gods, I hope there aren’t exams,” Caitlin mutters and the girl beside her giggles .

The room fills with hopeful women from across the Appleshield Protectorate.

Footsteps ring out on the dais and the entire space falls silent. I turn toward the high priestess, my grandmother, as she surveys her prey with a narrow gaze. There is no other way to describe her severe look. I almost smile. There is vast warmth beneath her stern exterior, for any who cares to look for it.

A simple white wool dress drapes her sinewy figure, with a gold belt and ermine fur shawl. Her white hair is worn loose in soft curls, with a few braided bands holding it back, and her skin is a maze of wrinkles. Thick cords stick out along her thin neck and collarbones as she presses her lips into a thin line.

It is strange to see my grandmother in this role, the gentleness she reserves for her family completely gone. These women around me cowering before her would have no idea of the countless times I have cried into my grandmother’s chest as a child, while she stroked my hair and kissed away my worries. She has always been a pillar of support in my life.

“Welcome, pilgrims, and congratulations. You are braver than any warrior,” the high priestess declares. “Before we begin, you will give a blood oath to never share the secrets of our order, unless I release the spell.”

Her eyes find and lock down on each woman, only moving on after her victim has cringed beneath the weight of her stare.

“You will learn harsh truths that could cripple the kingdom if weak minds discover them. I will not bind you in any other way. If you change your mind before the crossing, you are free to walk away. This is not for the fainthearted.”

I glance around at the other women in the room. We volunteer for a deadly pilgrimage that we are painfully ignorant about.

My grandmother steps off the dais and takes the hand of the first woman in the front row of seats. She murmurs softly while the candidate nods, then pulls a tiny blade from her belt and slashes across the woman’s palm.

The high priestess curls the pilgrim’s hand into a fist and places her own over it, forcing blood to drip. Both women speak and thin wisps of the palest smoke rise from the blood as the oath is made. I watch with an academic’s fascination.

When my grandmother reaches me and takes my hands in her icy grasp, pride brims across her features. “I did not expect you to volunteer for the pilgrimage, Keira, though I had hoped,” she murmurs. “Good to see you have stopped following every order of that princeling and will take up your own destiny. Hold out your palm for me, child.”

I offer my hand and she slashes the fine blade across it. I suck in a sharp breath at the sudden pain, which is only worse when she curls my hand and encases it in her bony fingers.

“Repeat after me. ‘I swear an oath to never speak a word of the lessons taught in preparation of the pilgrimage to any other than a priestess. I swear an oath not to speak a word of my experiences in the Otherworld to any other than a priestess.’”

I make the pledge as my blood drips onto the floor. A deep chill runs up the skin of my left middle finger and my palm. A silvery pattern of swirls and loops appear as a thick banded ring, so faint it’s only visible as I move my hand in the light. The gash in my palm is completely healed.

Within little time, we are all bound.

The high priestess returns to the dais. “I implore you to listen very closely. We will have a week of classes. In this time, you must learn everything you need to know about the fae, their world and their magic. You cannot take notes, so you must memorize everything. This knowledge could be the difference between life and death. Once these classes are done, you will have training sessions to fine-tune your magic wielding abilities and hand-to-hand combat. The crossing at the spring equinox is fast approaching.”

My heart pounds with anticipation and fear.

The high priestess turns and scrolls on the blackboard. “Lesson one: the fae world is brutal and cruel, and you will need to be the same to survive it. You must understand that we are stealing their magic. Taking things they need to survive. It is a drop in a fae ocean compared to the magic in their realm, but it likely will destroy the fae you take it from. They will fight you to the death to keep it. Now, can anyone tell me what sorts of objects you should aim to steal?”

I glance at the other women. Their expressions range from confusion to complete terror at my grandmother.

“Go on,” Caitlin mutters to me. “You might as well answer it.”

“Magic imbued relics, heart-stones or a pregnancy to the magic.” I say with confidence. I have read so many books, I probably know most of this lesson.

The high priestess taps a nail against the podium. “Relics. Stones. Pregnancy. As easy as that, right?”

An audible sigh floats through the room.

“Wrong. Have any of you wondered why we do not send men to the Otherworld? Trained warriors in armor? Why not an army?” The high priestess spits. Tension runs up my spine at the sheer anticipation of her next words.

My grandmother leaves a pregnant pause before continuing. “Because they would immediately be seen as a threat and the fae would swarm on them. But a woman? A pretty young girl or a priestess? Surely, she is as harmless as she looks. Perhaps she got lost and wandered into their lands. Maybe she is there to worship the narcissistic beasts they are. Big, strong men and powerful fae are alike, they are too stupid to see a human woman as the threat we can be.

“Our entire culture is built around the needs and convenience of men. For a woman to survive and thrive, we must be subtle and manipulative and use our wits to earn what they take for granted. We become masters of deception and persuasion. In this, women have had training for the crossing their entire lives.”

A silence falls on the room, and many women nod their heads. Anger clenches Caitlin’s jaw. We both have our struggles in being taken seriously as leaders by anyone outside our court.

My grandmother claps her hands twice. “Now, let's discuss fae relics imbued with magic.” She scrolls again on the chalkboard. “While being incredibly powerful objects, most are hidden within temples and protected by magic, or in the palaces of the high fae. There are lower relics in ancient ruins that could be targeted.”

The lesson on relics consumes most of the morning, and I swear I hardly blink as I take in every detail. There are so many different types. Jewelry, blades or armor, all imbued with specialized magic that is either protective or gives the bearer special abilities. Objects passed down to the fae by their gods, or created by the strongest amongst them, bestowing blessings upon the wearer.

Midday arrives and servants enter with platters of thinly sliced cold meats, aged cheese, dried fruits, chutneys and steaming hot bread. A comfortable silence falls over the room as we eat. I mechanically shove food into my mouth, my mind a thousand miles away, until I notice how the girls from the villages stare at the food and take second helpings, like it is a feast of delicacies. I suppose it is for them, especially at the end of winter.

I nudge Caitlin and make sure she notices, then make a mental note to speak to my father on the state of the villages. If our crops are failing, theirs must be worse, and we cannot have anyone starving.

My grandmother claps her hands, the sound echoing down the corridor, and servants immediately remove the food.

“Heart-stones,” the high priestess begins without preamble, chalk scratching against the board. My stomach tumbles, because I already know this is going to be heart-wrenching. “They are taken from the nymphs of the fae realm, who are spiritually connected to the land. Tree nymphs bind to a grove, body, spirit and soul, and within its center there will be a great mother tree that holds their heart-stone. It is a fist-sized piece of amber that carries the source of their power.”

She pauses a moment to survey the class. “This is where our mission becomes absolutely brutal. If you steal the heart-stone, the trees will die and the nymph will die, unless another tree nymph gives it shelter, but it will be forever maimed, without its power and heart. So expect it to fight you to the bloody death. For it to beg for mercy. You must use your wits. There are a thousand ways to lure the nymph away from its grove before you take its heart. Can anyone suggest any other types of heart-stones? ”

I try to swallow down the horror that rises within me, but bile burns my throat anyway.

My heart races at the acknowledgment of my people doing that to any creature, vicious fae or not.

It’s not easy to accept that sometimes we are the villains. I only calm myself with the conviction that I will not be stealing any heart-stones. Surely there is another way to get what I need.

I lift my hand despite my inner struggle, to answer my grandmother’s question.

“Anyone other than Keira?” My grandmother raises her eyes to the ceiling in silent prayer as the room remains silent. “By the gods, do they not teach you anything in the villages about the fae?”

“Flower nymphs, my high priestess.” A timid voice calls out from behind me.

“Good. Please, call me Naomi. No need for titles here. Anyone else?”

“Lake maidens.” Caitlin volunteers. “They have multiple heart-stones and seed-stones. A woman could gain a seed-stone, with the promise of planting it within another lake and nurturing the new spirit that is born. To help spread its offspring.”

“Yes. In theory.” My grandmother replies, considering. “But that woman would need to be a very convincing liar. No Lake Maiden would agree to having her seed-stone brought to the human realm, because without the magic of the fae world, her offspring would not be intelligent or self-aware. It would be no better than a sea monster guarding its waters, and could not take solid shape or leave its lake.”

The high priestess turns away, dismissing the subject.

“Perhaps if a woman were to make a bargain with the Lake Maiden.” Caitlin says.

The room seems to bristle with tension. I swallow nervously. I know where she is going with this.

“Dangerous words, Caitlin. You should never make a bargain with a fae. They are devious by nature and they will try to trick or cheat you. If you are cornered into it, you must be incredibly careful in setting out your terms, and still they will find a way to take advantage of you. Take it from me, you do not want to be at the mercy of a fae. They don’t understand the meaning of the word.”

A muscle bulges in Caitlin’s jaw. I kick her under the table, but that look tells me she won’t back down. “The pilgrim could offer to spread many of the seed-stones to other bodies of water in the fae lands, with the payment of one heart-stone. From my understanding, the Lake Maidens can generate more heart-stones. Losing one would be only a temporary loss of their power. What they cannot do is travel more than a mile from their lake, and therefore rely on other creatures to spread their seeds.”

A huge, proud smile fills my face. I found that chapter on water spirits in an incredibly old tome in our library, and excitedly recited my notes on it to Caitlin while she practiced archery. She said nothing at the time, but clearly listened.

“An interesting theory. It could work, but has its risks. This could be one way to avoid cruelty, for the gentle-hearted.” My grandmother’s eyes slide to mine.

A chill runs down my spine. Caitlin should be planning her own pilgrimage, but it sounds like she has put more thought into mine. “It could work for you,” Caitlin whispers.

I nod, forcing down the brimming emotion.

As confidence builds within the classroom, more women put forth their suggestions on how to bring fae magic back to our home.

One mentions the dwarves’ mines, where they dig magic from the ground as glowing ores and glittering gems, and smith them into enchanted blades and jewelry.

Another, the goblin mechanics of the winter realm, who use the same raw metals and imbue them with magic, and create amazing technologies. The fuel cells of such a device could gift our realm with immense magic.

No one mentions the fact that dwarves and goblins have a taste for human flesh and must be avoided at all costs. Stealing from them would have to be a very covert operation.

The pros and cons and risks of every option are scrutinized until even my head swims. The classroom is a buzz with low, excited voices by the time the thick, orange rays of the setting sun illuminate stripes across the marble floor.

There is a wicked twist to my grandmother’s lips as she takes in her audience.

She claps her hands twice, and the room falls silent immediately. “There is one very important way to bring magic back to our realm that we haven’t discussed yet. The most powerful, the most cherished, that grants us priestesses our name of Mothers of Magic, and gives immense magic to generations of people. Achieving it could give you the honors of royalty and the freedoms of the wealthy. The contribution I made from my pilgrimage.”

“Magical pregnancy,” Caitlin whispers. It was how our father was conceived.

“Magical pregnancy,” the high priestess barks. “Everyone who plans on a magical pregnancy, please stand up.”

Multiple women in the group rise gingerly, including Caitlin.

“Come on, don’t be shy. Anyone who has even daydreamed about it. The slightest interest in becoming pregnant to the magic. Stand.”

Almost half the room are on their feet now, but I remain firmly seated, because a pregnancy is the last thing I need. There is a sick feeling in my stomach. A sense of anticipation. I know my grandmother well enough to pick up when she is being cruel.

“There is no such thing as falling pregnant to the magic. Of pure, untainted magic quickening a womb.” Her words ring out. “There is only one way to get pregnant, and it is the same in the Otherworld as it is here.”