“Aye.” Nudd took a deep breath. “I wager they will, soon enough.”
“High Chief.” The queen let the title rest in the air for a moment. “You cannot think that the spriggans, who spoke to you in confidence, won’t know that you’ve come to me directly after your private meeting.”
“I believe they are expectin’ no less,” said Nudd. “I imagine that’s why my horde was the last faction they spoke to. They’ve already been ta all the dominant clans an’ colonies o’ the wood.”
“Is that so?” The queen raised an eyebrow.
“Aye. The wild ones an’ the spirits an’ the oddlings. They’re a thorough lot, spriggans are.”
“And what did they want?”
“They want ta know if they can count on us ta be allies—or at least ta stay out of their way when the time comes.”
“The time for what?”
“They were . . . unspecific as to the details. But they’re carryin’ their war satchels again. That’s na good.”
The queen remained silent for several seconds as she considered this. “So, the spriggans are preparing for a fight,” she said.
“Looks that way,” Nudd said. “They’re right angry, Raina.”
“The Grandmother Tree.” The queen’s voice was tight. The spriggans had always shown her respect. They had acknowledged her sovereignty over the Wild Wood for years. The only parts of the forest they did not recognize as her domain were the caves and tunnels that ran beneath the Deep Dark—which Raina had been more than happy to concede as sacred spriggan territory. Their purposes had always been aligned: the protection of the forest and the barriers between the human world and the wild. Why, now, would they defy her position?
The queen could feel an ingot of heat rising in her chest.
“They’ve always know that the queen began her life as a human. Raised by fair folk, but still human. They’ve never held that against ya. I think they understood ya ta be neutral—slighted by both sides, beholden to neither, loyal ta the forest alone. They are beginning to grow concerned, however”—Nudd took a deep breath—“that yer humanity is gettin’ the better of ya, and with it yer born allegiance.”
“That is ludicrous.”
“Aye. That’s what I told ’em.” Nudd shrugged. “Said if they really thought the queen was goin’ soft, they’d na be so afraid ta tell her ta her face. That got under the wee buggers’ skin.”
“How dare they question my loyalties? Do they not remember when I unleashed fury against the men who razed the forest in the west? I single-handedly revived the stories of the Witch of the Wood. Grown men whispered my titles. They refused to work, shut down their mill, and planted saplings to appease me, like an offering to the gods of old. The Queen of the Deep Dark is legend!” She took a slow, deep breath. “I have made myself no ally to humankind. My only allegiance is to my mother’s legacy and the duties she entrusted to me as a steward of this forest. My diligence has kept the Wild Wood safe as long as I have walked this earth.”
“Aye,” Nudd said gently. “You were a force ta be reckoned with, Raina, and yer mother before ya. That’s likely why they allowed ya free rein. But the saplings those men planted are twenty feet tall today. That was another age, lass, and they haven’t seen the fury of the queen in some time. What they have seen are the marks of human hands on sacred lands, and the Witch of the Wood cavorting with townsfolk.”
“I have never cavorted a day in my life,” the queen said. “I will not apologize for protecting the lives of children.”
Nudd held up his hands. “Ya dinna have ta tell me. I also reminded them that the forest has Tinn ta thank fer its renewed magic. But the spriggans still seem to have their doubts.”
“Fine. They can question my neutrality all they like. But if they seek to contradict my authority or sow unrest in my forest, they may very well see the fury of the queen firsthand.”
Nudd nodded approvingly. “Yer Majesty,” he said, and turned to go.
“I wonder,” the queen added. “What was your answer, Thief King?”
Nudd glanced back. “About what?”
“Will the goblins stand with the spriggans, when the time comes?” said the queen.
Nudd smirked. “That’s one o’ those funny things about goblins. We never seem ta know ourselves,” he said, “until the time comes.”
SIXTEEN
“The Queen of the Deep Dark,” Tinn read aloud as he and Evie picked their way forward through the bracken. Evie had allowed him to flip through one of her journals as they traveled. “Also known as the Witch of the Wild Wood. The story of the horrifying hag who haunts the forest begins with a love scorned.” Tinn glanced up. “What’s scorned mean?”
“They were going to get married, I think, but then he left her for someone else and broke her heart.”
“Huh. What a jerk.” Tinn felt like he should say more. “I wouldn’t—” he began. “I mean. If I was in love . . . I would never . . . I mean—” He immediately wished he had said less. Reading was much easier than talking to Evie Warner.
“Huh?” said Evie.
Tinn turned his eyes hastily back to the page and continued. “Soon to become a mother out of wedlock, the woman was shunned by her neighbors. Man, everybody in this story is a jerk. Destitute and alone, she learned to fend for herself, tending a humble garden and hunting or foraging in the forest on the edge of town. The woman had no one for company, save her daughter, whom she bore into the world alone in a drafty house on a stormy night. The child knew no suffering, though. It grew fat and healthy, with a laugh like tinkling bells. One day, the fairies heard the girl’s sweet laughter and coveted the child. So they came and stole her away.” He turned the page.“This is a little different than the version I know,” he said.
“It’s the way Uncle Jim always tells it,” said Evie. “Mostly. I
