In the carriage’s safe-box, we carried gold, jewels, an array of priceless instruments that we thought might appeal to the harpist when I approached him to play for Drayce.
Outside, to our left and right, dozens of soldiers in shimmering silver rode alongside us on winged horses, whose wispy manes danced and shimmered in the twilight breeze. I turned back to Drayce, who lay unmoving beneath a blanket of silk.
According to Aengus’ report, Cliach had situated himself in a lake on the far west of Bresail, within the border of the Spring Court and the realm of the Free Folk. The fastest route was over the Summer Court, which we needed to avoid because it was now controlled by the Fear Dorcha.
I blew out a breath of frustration that fogged against the window. We couldn’t afford a confrontation with a powerful creature allied with Queen Melusina who had already made one attempt to put me under a curse. Instead of the direct route, we would travel along the border of the Autumn and Summer Courts, and traverse the wide river that divided the Autumn and Spring Courts before we could reach our destination.
The carriage veered right, and the seeing-glass clinked on the side of my untouched plate. I stared into its polished surface for signs of Drayce, signs of those silver eyes, even signs if my own, but met the reflection of the overhead lantern above us, which rocked from side to side with the movement of our carriage.
“Show me Drayce,” I whispered into its surface.
My reflection stared back. I looked much the same as I did when I was human and in Calafort, except my ears were pointed, and my carrot-colored hair now shone with an otherworldly glimmer. If I crossed the mountains on the east and returned to the human realm, would they even be able to see me?
I thought about Father, whose ship would have crossed the Sea of Atlas and reached Caledonia by now. Would he take another ship to Hibern or travel down to Britannia?
A knock resounded on the door. “Your Majesty?” asked Rosalind. “Are you awake?”
“Come in,” I said.
Rosalind opened the door and poked her head through the gap. “Osmos ordered me to make sure you ate and were well rested for confronting the harpist.”
“Would you like to come inside?”
Relief softened her hard features, making me wonder if she was already tired of sitting in the front with Aengus. She stepped inside, her gaze landing at the bed on the far side of the suite. “Have you spoken to His Majesty again?”
My features twisted into a grimace. “The glass isn’t responding.” I gestured for her to sit on the seat opposite. “Maybe I’ve used up all the magic.”
Rosalind lowered herself in the other dining chair and held out a palm. “May I?”
I handed her the glass.
She closed her eyes, and the skin-colored membranes of her black-tipped wings glowed violet, along with a pale streak in the front of her hair. Violet magic pulsed through her fingers, making my breath catch.
Nimfeach aer.
These were maidens whose beauty could drive a human to madness. Unlike leannán sídhe, who fed on their human lovers in exchange for artistic inspiration, the nimfeach aer gained their power from the air and used it to serve the high fae. They seldom ventured into the human realm for fear of being held captive. According to the Book of Brigid, they were exceptionally loyal.
“Its magic is depleted.” She set the glass down on the table. “You haven’t eaten for days, Your Majesty. Cliach is a powerful faerie, and you’ll need your wits for tomorrow.”
“You’re right.” I picked up my fork and broke off a piece of pigeon that melted off the bone. Now that I had worked out Rosalind’s exact species of faerie, I could relax, knowing that her intentions toward me were benevolent.
After dinner, I let the rocking of the carriage lull me into a dreamless sleep, where my entire being floated on a cushion of nothingness for hours. All the tension drifted into the ether, and I was no longer the Queen of the Faeries clinging onto a tenuous throne. I was no longer the daughter of a monster, the poisoner of soldiers, the murderer of Drayce. But these feelings skulked back the moment the first rays of sunlight touched my eyelids.
At sunset the next day, Rosalind awoke me to say we were approaching the lake. I pulled away from the warmth of Drayce’s unmoving body, dressed, and ate at the dining table.
The sun hung low in an artichoke-green sky that illuminated a burst of dandelion yellow through the distant clouds. Our coach hovered above a giant lake of thick, green water, with gentle ripples that picked up the barest hint of light. Up ahead stood a four-story round tower of stone bricks covered in a rich, green moss that reminded me of Drayce’s curse.
A red-haired female stood at the tower’s arched window, her hair glowing the color of freshly spilled blood in the light of a lantern standing on its sill. She wore a white gown and rested her chin on her hands to stare down at something in the water.
I cast my gaze down to find a network of giant lily pads arranged around a bed of crimson and white water lilies in full bloom. A male dressed in clothes the same shade of vibrant green as the lily pads rose from where he lay on one of their surfaces and raised a golden harp.
My heart leaped, and I sucked in a deep breath to contain my excitement. This had to be Cliach, the male who held the power to awaken Drayce from his cursed sleep.
As a melodic tune drifted through the carriage windows, the pad on which Cliach stood rose through the air, its weight supported by a swirl of water that lengthened until the
