The Faerie Queen (The Faerie Ring #4) (12 page)

Larkin pushed
off the rickety chair, and paced to the back of the little room. “But the courts were in disarray. Eridanus was helping Finn who had been mortally wounded in battle. As I told you before, Finn didn’t die immediately. Instead, he suffered a slow lingering death, a piece of iron arrowhead lodged in his lung. After his death, rumours swirled that he and Adasara had had a child—an heir to the Seelie throne, so Donegal placed a bounty on Adasara’s head and that of the child’s, if it existed. Arrangements to hide Tara had barely been made before Adasara was also murdered—” Larkin’s voice faded away, her face creased with painful memories. “And now, only Fial and I are left.”

“
It’s a sad tale, to be sure.” Rieker’s voice sounded razor-sharp in the shadowed silence of the dim room. “But if Kieran, or Fial—whatever name you’d like to use—was UnSeelie, and he was supposedly our father, why did he tell me I was descended from Eridanus?”

Larkin turned from where she stood by the cold box stove.
“Kieran was preparing you for your future.”

“
How does telling me I’m descended from Seelie royalty prepare me for anything?” Rieker spat. “Especially when it’s another
lie
.”

Tiki wondered at the expression on Larkin’s face. It wa
s a strange mix of pride and sorrow.

“
William,” Larkin’s voice was deceptively gentle. “I applaud your passion—it speaks well of your ability to face what the future holds for you—” her gaze moved from Rieker to Dain to Tiki— “for all of you.”

“
For once, just tell us the truth,” Rieker snarled.

Larkin raised her eyebrows.
“You want the truth, but then you don’t believe me when I tell you. It’s one of the reasons I only reveal pieces at a time—”

“
Why
, Larkin?”

“
Because you
are
descended from Eridanus,” Larkin snapped. “Fial is also the son of a mixed relationship. His father was the child of a Winterbourne lover that Eridanus took centuries ago. Fial himself is a half-breed, though Eridanus never publicly acknowledged any relation to him. Fial was raised in Winterbourne until his mother left to join the UnSeelie Court, but the blood of Eridanus runs in his veins, just as it does in yours and Dain’s.”

Chapter Nineteen

The guard held the torch high ab
ove his head to light the roughhewn stone steps that led down into the rocky depths of Wydryn Tor.  Far below the Palace of Mirrors Donegal followed the flickering flame to a dungeon he had created long ago for precisely this kind of prisoner: someone who could never be allowed to escape; someone who could never be allowed to speak the truth.

At the bottom of the stone stairs a stern-faced guard stood before a wooden door, an iron-tipped spea
r clutched in one hand.  A horizontal slit at the top of the door allowed the guard to view the prisoner and a small cut-out at the bottom of the door allowed what little food and drink that was granted to be slid through the opening.

Donegal motioned to the guard.
“Is the prisoner chained?”

“
Yes sire.” He lowered his eyes and bowed. “Hands and feet.”

“
Open the door then.” The Winter King pointed up the stairs into the darkness.  “I want total privacy. There is a landing above us some thirty steps. You may wait for me there.”  He reached for the torch. “Both of you.”

The guards hurried to do his bidding, their boots echoing against the
stone steps as they climbed up to the landing. Donegal waited until he was sure they were positioned out of earshot before he entered the dim cell and carefully pulled the heavy door closed behind him. He lifted the torch, using the wavering pool of light to locate the prisoner.

Crumpled on his side and tucked into one of the dark corners, the orange glow from the flame glinted off the manacles that bound the Jester’s wrists a
nd ankles, making the metal shimmer as if it were on fire. Donegal stepped closer, illuminating the bloody face of his prisoner.

“
Hello Fial.” He nudged the prisoner with the toe of his boot. “Imagine my disbelief when I saw the scar on your back.” Donegal spoke softly, yet a deadly timbre echoed in his voice. “What an interesting surprise to find the brother I thought I had murdered so very long ago—has actually never left me at all.”

Chapter Twenty

“
I have a question.” Dain broke the silence that had filled the room as they absorbed the shocking news Larkin had shared. “Why did Kieran abandon me? All these years I’ve wondered if he was dead or imprisoned—”

A flicker of emotion crossed Larkin’s face
and for a second Tiki thought she saw something that looked like sympathy. Then Larkin’s face hardened and she spoke in a matter-of-fact tone. “He left you to save your life. Donegal and his followers were asking too many questions. He must have suspected something.  Fial knew the time was approaching when he needed to inform you and William of your true heritage—of the promise.

He went to London
as Kieran and found William, intending to tell him the truth—but it was too risky—Donegal and his inner circle were suspicious, sniffing around too close to William—and to me. Then Donegal murdered William’s mortal family and Fial feared the Winter King had somehow found William out. Fial didn’t dare reveal the truth then—in fact, he didn’t dare have any contact with either of you. So he gave Kieran up and has lived only as the Jester these last few years, communicating with me and biding his time to share the truth with both of you.”

“
If any of us survive,” Rieker said with a hint of bitterness.

“
I think I believe you,” Dain said softly. “It all fits.”

Tiki glance
d from Dain to Rieker. She’d always wondered about Kieran’s sudden appearance in Rieker’s life—as well as his knowledge of the Otherworld. What Larkin was describing did make sense. But Tiki’s stomach roiled with an uneasy feeling that Larkin had not shared everything yet. She feared there were more surprises to come.

Rieker’s voice was neutral when he spoke, revealing nothing.
“How will you free the Jester? The Palace of Mirrors, the White Tower, the Plain of Starlight—wherever they are holding him—those areas are impenetrable. What is your plan?”

“
Why is it your concern?” Larkin smirked at him with familiar arrogance. “Unless you’re planning to help me?”

Rieker didn’t blink.
“Perhaps. I’m not sure how, to be honest.”

“
It’s no different than what you’ve done the last few years, William—running through the underbelly of London pretending to be a pickpocket.” She shrugged. “You dress a certain way, you play a particular part—you become someone else to gain information.” Her gaze flicked over to Tiki and the dare was clearly communicated. “It’s simple: to find and free the Jester we must become UnSeelie.”

IT WAS TOO late in the day to call on Leo at Buckingham Palace and retrieve Johnny so they agreed to spend the night in Charing Cross. Dain and Rieker went out to scout for wood to light the box stove, Larkin muttered something about an ‘errand’ and Tiki was left by herself.

The whistles and gasps of the trains as they came and left the station were a familiar backdrop and Tiki had the oddest sense that she’d
gone back in time. Any moment Toots and Shamus would come through the back door or push the plank aside that hung on a nail and tell her what they’d nicked today. Fiona and Clara could be out in the station looking for anything edible that might have been dropped or thrown away. She hadn’t forgotten what it was like to be hungry all the time and afraid—afraid of being caught and sent to a workhouse; afraid of starving to death; afraid that they would be separated somehow…

THIRTY MINUTES LATER Tiki pushed her way into Mr. Potts’ bookstore, the bell above the door giving a familiar jingle.

“
Hallo Mr. Potts,” she called out, peering down one aisle then another, looking for the old man.  She found him toward the back of the store, shelving a stack of books.

“
Mr. Potts?”

“
Eh?” He startled when she called his name. “Sorry, Miss. Didn’t ‘ear yer come in.” He squinted at her through the shadows between the stacks. “Is that yer, Tiki? By golly, it is. You look different again.” He set the books down and pulled a handkerchief from his back pocket to wipe his nose. “Must be growin’ up, I guess.” He went past her down the aisle. “Come up front wit’ me so I can see yer pretty face.”

Tiki obediently followed the old man
, noting how thin he had become, his baggy trousers held up by a belt pulled tight.

“
How have you been?” she asked as they returned to the front of the store where the light was much better.

“
Busy. Yer know—people comin’, people goin’.” He gave her a wobbly smile and smoothed what little hair he had on his head with a gnarled hand. “What ‘ave yer been readin’ lately? Yer haven’t borrowed a book in a long time.”

“
I haven’t had a lot of time to read, but I will again soon. What do you recommend?”

He reached for a book that was sitting on the corner of his desk
, brushing aside papers that were haphazardly stacked on top. He ran his fingers over the green hardback cover.   “I set this aside for yer—what with the way yer and the young’un’s love faerie stories.” He peered at her from under his bushy grey eyebrows. “Those faeries can be a nasty lot too—thought maybe yer should be aware of their dark side—so yer don’t end up like my poor Bridgit.”

Tiki’s heart sank. Poor Mr. Potts missed his daughter so terribly. How she wished she could help him get over the pain of his loss
from when the girl had disappeared in Hyde Park during a terrible storm.

“
What’s the book about?” she asked gently.

“
It’s a poem actually, by an English bloke named John Keats. Called
La Belle Dame sans Merci
—The Beautiful Lady without Mercy—about a faerie called a
leanan sidhe.”
He shook the book at her. “Beautiful but vicious, that one.”

“
How’s that?” Tiki asked curiously. “I didn’t know you read poetry.”

“
I’m a bookseller. It’s my job to know all kinds of books.”  He waggled a crooked finger at her. “The poem tells of a lady so beautiful men are mesmerized by ‘er. They willingly trade their lives for the inspiration ‘er beauty gives ‘em. And then she destroys ‘em.” He stared hard into Tiki’s eyes. “Because as beautiful as she is—it’s her nature to destroy.”

Tiki
tried to mask her surprise at his insightfulness. In some ways, it sounded like he was describing Larkin. She reached for the book and opened the pages. Out loud she began to read:

O what can ail thee, knight-at-arms,

Alone and palely loitering?

The sedge has withered from the lake,

And no birds sing.

O what can ail thee, knight-at-arms,

So haggard and so woe-begone?

The squirrel’s granary is full,

And the harvest’s done.

I see a lily on thy brow,

With anguish moist and fever-dew,

And on thy cheeks a fading rose

Fast
withereth too.

I met a lady in the meads,

Full beautiful—a faery’s child,

She paused at the words ‘faery’s child’. 
When had Mr. Potts learned so much about faeries?

Tiki resumed reading:

Her hair was long, her foot was light,

And her eyes were wild.

An image of Larkin’s exquisite face and blue-green eyes filled her vision.

“
Now, now,” Mr. Potts made a shooing motion with his hands. “Yer take that wit’ yer and read it all.”

Tiki smiled at the old man.
“You seem awfully worried about faeries for someone who lives in the City. Don’t they live out in the country somewhere, like Cauterhaugh Wood where Tam Lin had his adventure?”

“
Yer laugh, young lady, but Dickey’s brother-in-law works up Bucking’am, yer know, and he’s heard the whispers that the Royals have some goin’-on’s wit’ the faerie folk.”

Tiki sobered.
“What sort of ‘goin’-on’s’?”

He lowered his voice to a gruff whisper.
“Somethun’ bout a stolen ring and a war. He heard enough to scare ‘im into believin’.” Mr. Potts nodded at the book Tiki held. “The poets and storytellers been writin’ ‘bout them for hundreds of years now. Who are we to say they don’t exist? Somethun’ took my Bridgit away that day and my best guess is it were the faeries.”