“Her name is Nessa,” Rosalind spat in a tone that implied she had corrected him more than once.
The corner of Aengus’ lip curled into the barest of smiles, and he turned to meet Rosalind’s scowl with an expression of wide-eyed innocence.
I exhaled a frustrated breath and turned back to Nessa. “Can you sense anything else?”
She reached across the table, picked up the teapot and poured a steaming cup of tea into a glass cup. By now, the jasmine flower had completely bloomed, revealing the pale, yellow filaments in its center.
“I could take another drop of His Majesty’s blood, but I doubt it will change what I discovered in the kitchen,” she said. “You’re the only person capable of breaking his curse.”
I glanced at Cliach, who sat up on his bunk and restrung his golden harp. “What about him?”
“If we reach the palace, you’ll discover the answer to that question.” Nessa rose from the table, returned to her counter, and busied herself with preparing the next meal.
I turned my gaze back to the window. The river ahead narrowed to a stream of about twenty feet, just as Aengus had promised. On the other side was a muddy field containing dozens of triangular pigsties with thatched roofs that stretched down to the mud. Low fences surrounded each sty, and most of the pigs gathered around troughs, indicating that someone had recently fed them.
A copse of trees ringed the field but they were mostly cast in shadow from the giant wall of black.
I bit down on my lip, remembering something Drayce told me. “Aengus?”
He raised his head. “Your Majesty?”
“King Drayce said the Dagda might try to collect me.”
Aengus’ brows rose. “How so?”
“He says I might remind him of Dana.”
Aengus’ gaze roved over my hair. “My father has dozens of lovers, but I’ve never heard of him keeping a female against her will.”
I nodded at the confirmation that the person I had met in the dream was either not Drayce or a version of him so influenced by the curse that he wanted to keep me from breaking it.
We crossed over the water, over the field of pigs, the carriage slowing with each passing moment. The capall tossed their heads and swished their tales. I wasn’t sure if they were frightened of the pigs or the encroaching darkness.
My mouth dried, and my heart skittered an irregular beat. With fingers that wouldn’t stop trembling, I placed my warm cup to my lips and inhaled the tea’s sweet, floral scent.
“Your Majesty?” said Rosalind. “The capall slowed like this the last time they stopped.”
I gulped a mouthful of fragrant tea. “Let’s get as close to the palace as we can.”
Aengus stood and walked to the front of the carriage. “I will direct the coachmen to the swineherd’s cottage. There’s an underground tunnel that leads to the palace’s kitchen.”
The tightness in my chest loosened enough for me to murmur my thanks.
Nessa’s steady chopping of vegetables was the only thing keeping me tethered to this world as we crossed the narrow stretch of river and approached the darkness. It stood beyond the trees as solid as a block of obsidian with a shadow that stretched halfway across the field.
Rosalind turned to me and offered a strained smile. “Dagda will allow you to awaken His Majesty in exchange for one of the items you brought along, I’m sure.”
I glanced at Nessa, her warnings ringing through my ear. Only his mate could break his curse. Did that mean I had to play the harp or did that mean the person in the dream really was Drayce, and I needed to stab him through the heart?
My jaws clenched. If I stabbed Drayce without at least trying to obtain the harp and things went wrong, I wouldn’t want to continue living.
The carriage descended to the middle of the field, and we stopped at the edge of the shadows. Aengus emerged from the front and sighed. “The capall won’t go any further.”
I rose from my seat. “Are we near the Swineherd’s hut?”
“It’s within the shadows,” he answered. “I’m going out with a couple of guards to check that the doors are open.”
“Let me come with you,” I said.
“Your Majesty.” Rosalind placed a hand on my arm. “Please let someone else check. As soon as you step into the cursed land, the Fear Dorcha will learn our location and attack.”
“Very well.” I slumped back into my seat and stared at the plate of honey bread. My belly took that moment to growl, and Rosalind pushed the plate closer.
There was nothing else to do. I bit into the hard, sweet bread and gnawed out of frustration. If that hadn’t been Drayce in the dream, then each time I visited, it meant the Fear Dorcha crawled deeper into my mind, learned my secrets, and adjusted the dream to match my perception of Drayce. I raised the jasmine tea to my lips, filled my nostrils with its floral scent, and washed down my mouthful.
Cliach finished restringing his harp, strummed a few notes, and readjusted the strings. Nessa placed handfuls of sliced vegetables into a bubbling cauldron and threw in a bundle of mixed herbs. I sipped mouthful after mouthful of jasmine tea from my glass cup, which never seemed to empty, even when the flower floated to the bottom of the empty teapot.
The door to the front opened, and Aengus stepped back inside, his features grim, his sandals and the bottom edge of his cloak caked in mud.
I leaned forward in my seat and clasped my hands so tightly that they ached. “Report.”
“The swineherd’s hut is sealed with magic.”
“What are our other options?” I asked.
He glanced at the window over his shoulder, revealing mud streaks on the back of his cloak. “We travel to the palace’s main doors on foot.”
I shook my head. That wasn’t an option. “I can’t leave King Drayce alone, even with guards.”
Rosalind nodded. “If we untether the horses, we might get the carriage to move by
