Chapter Eleven

Evan was quiet, sulking in the corner of the carriage, every so often tugging at his ill-fitting dress. Dain had outdone himself and given Evan a rather rotund bust line. His hair was plaited and wrapped around his head like a crown, a few straggling pieces softening the strong lines of his face. Though the ride was bumpy after they left the city, Evan eventually fell asleep, leaving Muirgen and Artiar to either look out the window or stare at Evan as he slept. She could feel him testing the link, pushing and pulling emotions through, so she closed her eyes and pretended she was asleep.

A few hours later she woke, bolting upright as she realized her head was on his shoulder. For a moment they sat in the dark carriage quietly before Artair offered, “Evan is cooking dinner.” Stiffly he climbed out of the carriage, leaving her alone in the dark. Muirgen rested her head in her hands, wishing more than ever that Uthyr had not decided he needed to retire. But he had. Be strong.

She opened the carriage door, met by the pleasant smell of some stew cooking in the iron pot over the fire. Their driver, Sameth, was sitting a little ways off, enjoying his pipe. Lifting her skirts, she headed to the fire and sat on the rock Artair gestured to.

“Nearly finished,” Evan said by way of greeting. He added a final log onto the fire.

“I’ll collect some more firewood. We’ll need to keep up the fire.” She stood, brushing off the back of her dress.

Evan frowned, “The woods are not a friendly place, stay close.” His eyes drifted to Artair and he shoved his chin at Muirgen, communicating wordlessly that Artair should keep an eye on her. Artair followed her as she walked through the trees.

“I am perfectly able to gather firewood by myself,” she said, though she kept her voice light.

“I can’t just let you go off on your own,” he said, his voice strained. “I’m charged with your protection, remember?”

She laughed, bending down to pick up a thicker, fallen branch. “And will you accompany me when I use the facilities or bathe?” Immediately she blushed, thanking the darkness for hiding the effects upon her neck and chest.

He tripped on something in the dark, “I suppose not. But the woods are dangerous.”

“Yes,” she agreed. Wishing she could see his face, she asked, “Do you remember your final match during the first part of the tournament?”

“Of course,” he said, confusion tilting his voice.

“Muir doesn’t exist.” She hefted another branch and added it to her pile, dusting her dress with bits of bark and leaves. “You stole that move from me.”

He stopped moving and she could feel his confusion and dawning horror. “You? I…You?”

She laughed, “Yes. Me. I’ve been fighting since I was old enough to hold a practice sword. Just about as long as you have probably. But I know how to use the piece inside me. You don’t yet.”

“What do you mean?” he asked, interest winning over his fear of the magic.

“It happened gradually for me," she admitted, "Becoming in tune with it, and it becoming in tune with me.” She darted forward, her feet silent and faster than any human was capable of as she dipped around him, whispering, “See?” before spinning away once more. His breath caught and he jumped.

“I’d like to see that when I can actually see you,” he mused, finally helping her pick up a few pieces of wood.

“Of course,” she said laughing.

“But even with these...gifts, the fae are better?” he asked hesitantly.

She nodded though he could not see her, “Faster, stronger, smarter. More beautiful even.” She snorted, “There’s a reason they think of us as little more than bugs.”

“If they are so much stronger, why use the Northmen?”

She paused, uncertain, “Why not just come themselves?” She didn’t have the answer, but she said, “I suppose it’s because they don’t know how we trapped them. Their brethren are locked beneath our lake, but without the two pieces it’s just a lake.”

“One of us should have stayed behind,” he said after a while.

“I know,” she said, her heart heavy. “I considered bringing Uthyr with me instead. That way if they take us and figure out where the pieces are, they’ll only have one.”

“But?” he nudged.

“But bringing Uthyr into that situation without the protection of the piece? I couldn’t.” She deliberately breathed in through her noise, trying to keep her emotions from spilling over to him, “Besides. Someone needs to keep the council in check while we are gone. And forgive me, but I do not think you are up to that task yet.”

He laughed, a short, snide sound, “I saw the way they looked at me. I don’t imagine many of them have a high opinion of me.”

“Don’t take it too personally,” she said, trying to keep the lightness in her voice, “they hardly listen to anything I say.”

He nodded solemnly, “We’ll have to do something about that when we return.”

She shrugged, arms full of wood as she turned back toward the fire Evan was cooking over, “I’m open to suggestions.”

“Well, their power comes from you, does it not? Could you remove a few from power?”

She shook her head, “Their power does come from me, sort of. But mostly it comes from the land and power they wield. Their status gives them the ability to be on the council and while they do not formally get to make decisions, they could withdraw their support from me. To do so would be devastating to the crown. The taxes they collect, the soldiers they provide, the food their people grow…we rely heavily upon them.”

He nodded, his face shadowed in the dark, “I’ll think about it then. There must be something we can do.” She smiled though he could not see. Three years of trying to outmaneuver them had produced little to no results, but maybe his fresh eyes would help.

She set her pile down a little away from the fire before resuming her seat upon the rock. Evan was spooning the stew into bowls. He handed a bowl to Muirgen, apologizing, “I’m sorry, your Majesty, I can cook well enough for most of the soldiers, but I doubt it is up to your standards.”

She smiled, waving her hand, “That you made stew at all is more than I expected. I had expected to spend the next few days eating the massive amount of salted meats and bread packed for us.”

He shook his head, “I figured it would be best to conserve that for our journey by boat.”

“Have you been on one before?” she asked, interested.

He nodded, grimacing, “I was sick for days.”

Her face fell, “Something to look forward to then.”

“Are there truly beasts beneath the water?” Artair asked with some hesitation.

Evan nodded eagerly, “Yes. I've seen them. They are giant, Artair, excuse me—Lord Dragon. But most of the stories are exaggerated and they will leave us alone. Probably.” Muirgen took a sip of the stew, surprised at the flavor Evan had managed to bring to the stew. She told him as much and he bowed his head half in acceptance, half in embarrassment. After she finished her stew she collected their bowls and fished a bar of soap from the pack.

“I will clean them in a moment, your Majesty,” Evan said, startled, but she shook her head.

“I am not above menial tasks. You cooked, I can clean up.” Artair began to rise to join her, but she stopped him with the raise of a brow. She disappeared into the trees, following the sound of the brook they had made camp by. Carefully she rinsed and washed each of the dishes, setting them aside to drip onto a rock. Then she washed her hands and face, the cold bite of the water making her wish that she was at home, a warm bath waiting for her.

When she returned to the fire, the men had laid out their rolls. The driver was already asleep, softly snoring a bit away from the fire. She packed away the dishes and handed the soap to Evan to clean the pot.

Then she laid on her own roll, wiggling to try to avoid any of the lumps digging into her side. She closed her eyes, trying not to think of the journey ahead or what she would do when she got there.

The forest was silent, stretching for miles in shades of green. Everything was green, even her hands as she held them out in front of her. The Bard dashed out from behind a tree, laughing. When he saw her, he stopped, leaning forward to say,

“She thinks she knows the answers, but the answers have been lost.

She’ll make her own answers, and she’ll pay the cost.”

Then he disappeared in the space of a blink. She turned, looking for him, and the tree from the book towered over her.

“Little Queen,” someone hissed, and she whirled around again. A dark figure stood before her, tall and formidable wrapped in black mist that swirled, hiding his face. “Our brethren call to us, Little Queen. They beg us to set them free. Will you deny them?” He bent forward, “Tell me where they are hidden and we’ll leave your country alone.”

“No,” she whispered, taking a step back, her hand going to her chest, as if to protect the piece hidden within.

“If you refuse I will rip you, piece by piece until you tell me where I can find the pieces,” he hissed, walking so gracefully toward her it appeared as though he was floating on the black mist. “Fingers first, break them, crush them, rip them. Then the eyes—squishable, soft eyes. What next then, how shall we play with your soft mortal body?”

Her stomach twitched, heaving though she knew she couldn’t throw up. It was a dream. She took a few more steps back, “I’ll never tell you.” It growled and charged toward her, she whipped around, clawing through the air as though it would make her go faster.

“Your Majesty, wake up.” Her eyes flew open and she bolted upright, smashing her head into Artair’s. He sat back on his heels, rubbing his forehead, “Are you okay?”

She nodded, wiping the sweat from her neck, her heart still pounding. He watched her, eyes concerned and she lowered her eyes, feeling his uncertainty. Uthyr would have known exactly what to say to make her feel better. But Uthyr wasn’t here, and she would have to get used to that.

“Sometimes I have…dreams,” she confided, “Not like normal dreams. I’m aware, and I can think and speak. They feel more real than normal dreams.”

“Is it because of…” he trailed off, hand going to his side.

She shrugged, “I’ve no idea. I never used to have them.”

“So what changed? What do you think is causing them?” he asked, leaning forward again so he could speak even more quietly.

“I don’t know. Maybe I’m just afraid. They started after the council told me about the engagement with the North. Maybe I’m dreaming because I’m afraid of what we’ll find there,” she said, forcing the words out before she could take them back. What if she was leading them into danger and there was nothing for her to find? What if she had dreamed of that tree only because she had read the book a thousand times?

“I’m worried about what we'll find there,” he admitted. “We know little to nothing about the fae, besides their motives and the difficulty of destroying one.” He picked at a blade of grass, easing backwards slightly. “I’m supposed to protect you from them, but we have little more than legend to go on.” She nodded, wishing for the annoying Bard to appear once more so she could question him until he gave her straight answers.

She leaned toward her bag to pull out the book she’d packed, but Evan sat up, rubbing his face and peering at them blurry-eyed over the fire, “Everything okay?”

She nodded, turning to Artiar, “I’ll take the watch. Get some sleep.” She stared off into the darkness that surrounded them, the light from their fire not stretching very far.