Page 40 of Mountain of Mirrors and Starlight
Beau murmured something in sympathy.
“How do you think Father’s handling the situation?” she asked him, wanting to talk about something—anything—else.
“Hmm, probably something along the lines of, ‘it looks as if my children too have been kidnapped by dwarven insurgents’ and ‘I cannot recall precisely what occurred in the heat of battle’ and other such truth-dodging.”
“Sounds like him…”
Beau nodded. He leant against her back. “Ais?”
“Yes?”
“Are you all right?”
She froze. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
Beau clucked disapprovingly under his breath, but said nothing more.
It was a silent party. Hardly anyone seemed to be in the mood to speak, any gaze caught not resting long, as if everyone were keeping some festering, guilty secret.
They were probably waiting for someone to ask the question—or Caerwyn to explain. Aislinn wasn’t sure who should speak first, but given that it was Caerwyn’s secret, and that he’d just killed a guard—likely someone he’d known—it seemed better to give him time.
Scarcely a word was uttered until they reached the border.
“Well, this is it,” Minerva said. “No turning back now. Ready, lad? One and only trip to Faerie.”
Caerwyn stared at the cloud, which Aislinn wasn’t entirely sure he could see. Many a mortal strayed accidentally into Faerie. They could return to their own world after—but they would never return to Faerie again. The doorway would slip through their fingers, as graspable as fog.
Caerwyn marched through, and the rest followed.
Aislinn took a deep, shuddering breath the second the shimmer washed over her, the whisper of magic brushing through the trees. The air felt different here—clearer, sharper, and the earth hummed ever-so-slightly beneath the hooves of her horse.
Beau took in a similar breath, and they held out their hands to the trees, the branches above them seeming to bow, twitching at their fingertips like the vines back home.
Hello, I’ve missed you.
“Ah,” said Minerva, with a sigh almost as hearty. “There’s no denying it’s nice here, but let’s not dawdle. We’ve another hour of daylight.”
The forests of Autumn blazed beneath hazy sunlight, a dense carpet of red, magenta and pink. Colours that didn’t seem to exist in the mortal world whispered against their faces. Caer revelled in it all. The faint masterpiece was a welcome distraction to the thoughts spinning through him.
He killed a man. Again. He knew him, too. Dafydd. He’d sparred with him before. He was excellent with a blade, fiercely loyal to the crown. He liked pastries and flirting with the cook’s daughter.
But when he’d grabbed hold of Aislinn…
He took a deep breath. The first time his powers had killed, it had been an accident. This time… he’d wanted to hurt him. He’d been willing to kill him.
But I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to!
Aislinn hadn’t looked him in the eye since. She was probably disgusted by him. Maybe this power was too dark, even for her. Maybe she was just furious at him for not telling her.
He wished she could lie to him. He felt he needed a lie, right now. It would be better than the truth.
But she did not ask. And he did not talk.
Diana went on ahead to catch some fresh game and managed to secure a couple of pheasants. The others found her just before nightfall, setting up camp on a hill overlooking one of the many forests of Autumn. The sky had turned a dusky purple, the crisp leaves below a canvas of cold flame.
Home.
It seemed strange to think of going to Winter rather than back to Acanthia. Aislinn wondered if the dwarves were even expecting them to follow, or if they were being invited. At the moment they were heading in the same direction.
