The Wood Witch's Daughter Read online

  Aciperre was, unsurprisingly, unhappy with this response. After centuries of life, he was still impatient, rash. It surprised Muírgan that he had not kidnapped the girl from the Sky Fae when they’d crossed over. That was his nature. She could not change his nature, but she could keep him on a short leash.

  “Keep eyes on the girl, the silver lord, the golden warrior, the evil sorceress. But do so discreetly. Do not jeopardize my plans,” Muírgan told Aciperre. He refrained from smirking, though she could tell it was difficult for him. Instead he made a stiff bow.

  “As you wish, my queen,” he said. Then he whistled the high keening cry of a raptor and slipped once more into the form of his familiar, taking wing for the Court of Sky.

  CHAPTER 3

  BEYOND THE VEIL

  Arianette lay on her back. Overhead, stars winked and twin moons grinned down at her, crescents slender as curved blades in an indigo sky.

  She bolted upright and looked around. She was in an open air Courtyard. White stone spires soared overhead, gleaming like moonstone against a backdrop of smoky snowcapped mountains. She considered the possibility that she was dead. She had, after all, been shoved into a fire. Perhaps this was the afterlife. Her skull pounded, though, and her skinned knees burned. She could only hope to be relieved of such worldly pains upon she passage into the Void.

  “Child, are you all right?” The voice sounded concerned. And familiar. Arianette swiveled her head to see Lorna Blackburn lowering herself to a graceful kneeling position beside her. The Faery, having shed her glamour, stopped Arianette’s breath. Lorna, in her true form, was just a slip of a thing with ebony skin and indigo eyes. She looked almost identical to the Shadow Fae illustration in Arianette’s book, “Tales of the Fae,” with her bat like wings folded like black leather at her shoulder blades.

  “Where am I?” Arianette asked, scuttling backwards away from Lorna. She winced as the flagstones bit into the abrasions on her palms.

  “Beyond the Veil,” Lorna said, her voice calm. “In the Ethereal Realms.”

  Arianette blinked at her.

  “The Court of Shadows?” she asked, voice trembling.

  Lorna laughed, the sound as high and sweet as her voice had been when lifted in song.

  “Of course not. Does this place look like the Court of Shadows to you?” she asked, gesturing towards the palace sprawling before them.

  Arianette had to admit that it did not. There was nothing shadowy about the grand ivory arches, and embellished pillars or the life-like statues standing sentinel around the Courtyard.

  “We’re in the Sky Court. You may recall--”

  “You don’t look like a Sky Fae.” Arianette countered, interrupting her. Lorna frowned, a crease forming between her brows.

  “No, I suppose I don’t. But that’s a tale for another day.” Her tone did not leave room for argument. She moved out of her crouch and reached for Arianette’s hand, pulling her to her feet in a single fluid movement.

  “I’m not going anywhere with you. What were you doing in the forest? Tell me why you brought me here,” Arianette declared.

  “We’ll have plenty of time to discuss that after you’ve met the Skylord,” Lorna said, sounding piqued.

  What on earth could the Skylord want with her, the Mortal daughter of a Wood Witch, Arianette wondered.

  She would have asked just that, but before she got another word out, a shadow fell over them from above. The sound of beating wings became audible and Arianette glanced up to see the most majestic creature she had ever seen in her life.

  Like a magnificent bird of prey, the Faery swooped down from the sky. Looking more like a statue than a man, he could have been carved from bronze. Powerfully built with the graceful sweeping antlers of a stag arcing from the crown of his head. His eyes surveyed Arianette with open curiosity; a warm amber hue with irises ringed in gold. Most striking of all, though, were his massive tawny wings shot through with gleaming crimson and ivory feathers.

  “And who is this?” the antlered Fae asked in a voice that commanded attention.

  “I should think that would be rather obvious Braedin,” Lorna said.

  “Right. Of course. This must be the prophesied Legion Queen you crossed the Veil to collect. It’s just that, she looks awfully-- well, she looks awfully Mortal,” Braedin observed, puzzled.

  “I’m not a queen,” Arianette groaned. Lorna rolled her eyes.

  “Oh be quiet, child. Listen, Braedin no Mortal could survive crossing the Veil through fire. Although I will admit to being a bit… underwhelmed...by her myself.” Lorna said, frowning.

  “Perhaps you grabbed the wrong girl?” Braedin suggested.

  “Don’t be a fool,” Lorna snapped. “She’s the right girl. Look closer. There is something about her, don’t you think? There is an aura of”—

  Lorna dropped off, but continued to gaze at Arianette the way a small child might peer at an unusual insect … right before ripping its wings off.

  Arianette took a few steps back away from her. She briefly considered trying to bolt and make a run for it, but dismissed the idea. She was in a castle in the clouds. Trying to scale the walls surrounding the Courtyard could only end in a fall to her death.

  “So, what are your plans for her?” Braedin asked. Now he too was studying Arianette with open curiosity. She wilted beneath his gaze.

  “Well, I didn’t bring her back because I wanted a new pet.” Lorna rubbed a finger along her lower lip. “I suspect she has untapped powers. Bound, perhaps, somehow.”

  “I don’t have any powers,” Arianette insisted. “I’m just a Wood Witch’s daughter. I know the properties of plants, how to heal people with them. I’m not even any good at that! I don’t even cast ‘spells’ and I definitely do not have any powers.”

  “Herb magic, spell magic, it’s the same thing. If you can do one, you can learn to do the other.” Lorna waved her hand, dismissive. Runes glittered around her wrist. Arianette rang her hands, looking as if she would weep.

  “Lorna that’s enough,” Braedin admonished, picking up on Arianette’s distress. He turned to address her. “Listen. I know you’re frightened, but I promise we mean you no harm. Lorna’s methods can sometimes be a bit … questionable, I know. But she means well. Would you let us bring you into the Sky Tower?”

  Braedin gestured towards an arch to their left. It was flanked on either side by winged forms carved from marble. They looked like avenging angels standing guard. Arianette glanced at Braedin, dubious, then sighed in capitulation.

  “Fine,” she conceded and allowed him to lead her into the palace.

  S

  The Tower of Sky was even more lavish and otherworldly inside. The floors were slate gray marble. In the center of the foyer, a grand staircase wrapped around on both sides, leading up to the pillared entrance to the grand hall. Beneath the stairways, a broad corridor led into the belly of the keep. Blue and silver tapestries depicting airborne battles lined the walls, while overhead the ceiling was decorated with all the constellations of the night sky.

  Arianette sucked her breath in at the sight, spinning around to take in her surroundings.

  “Welcome,” Braedin said, “to the Sky Tower.” A small smile played at his lips.

  “I’ve never seen anything like it,” Arianette breathed.

  She couldn’t linger in her thrall for long, though. Lorna was already grabbing her hand and pulling her towards the arched passageway that led into the heart of the palace.

  “Come child, let’s get you cleaned up, shall we?”

  “I hope to see you again soon, Lady Arianette,” Braedin said with a Courtly bow as Lorna guided her away.

  She led Arianette down a series of winding corridors. At last, they approached a small nondescript door. Lorna entered first. Arianette peeked her head in, still alert for danger.

  Arianette’s entire cottage could have fit inside the chamber with room to spare. To her left, glass paned double doors, opened out onto a veranda. Opposite the veranda yawned a massive canopied bed, resplendent in lavender silk sheets and coverlets with at least a half dozen downy pillows flung about it.

  “I could fetch you some tea if you’d like. Perhaps we could chat for a spell? I feel like I owe you an explanation of sorts,” Lorna said, sounding hopeful. Arianette was less than enthused about sharing tea with her captor. She turned to face Lorna.

  “May I just rest for a little while?” she asked, sounding weary.

  “But of course,” Lorna said, though she looked crestfallen. “I’ll leave you to your rest then.”

  And so she left Arianette with an elegant curtsy, flitting from the room. Her robes swirled around her as she closed the door with a soft click.

  Alone now, Arianette took a deep ragged breath and tried to compose her thoughts. She wasn’t sure whether or not she was relieved. The adrenaline that had been propelling her ebbed away and she felt as if she might collapse.

  But she was not ready to sleep… not just yet.

  She set about inspecting the chamber, walking first to the double doors that led out to the veranda and pulling the curtains aside. Outside, there was only a steep drop to a flagstone Courtyard lined with weapon racks and combat dummies, pale blue skies, and the jagged peaks of a mountain range sprawling as far as the eye could see. No chance of escape, not by that route, anyway.

  On the far wall there was an ornate white oak writing desk. Arianette made her way over to it. She fingered the sheaf of creamy white paper, the elegant feathered quills, and vials of silver and black ink. Such fine things here in this palace, but none that did her any good. Arianette had
no one to write letters to on this side of the Veil. No one even in Onerth, truth be told.

  She set about opening each desk drawer until she found something useful; a bejeweled letter opener. She picked it up and hefted it in her left hand, examining the tapered end. As a weapon, it wouldn’t be of much use, but for what she had in mind, it was perfect.

  She walked over to the door Lorna had exited through and got down on her hands and knees. Working as quickly and quietly as she could, Arianette set about using the point of the letter opener to scratch tiny markings into the wooden door frame. She felt a bit foolish, carving Mortal runes in a land so full of true magic, powerful magic. Would her runes even work here? She had no idea, but it couldn’t hurt to try.

  When she finished warding the door against entry, Arianette moved to the double doors of the veranda, then to each of the windows, etching them into each frame. Then she looked around the room again.

  Besides the bed and the writing desk, the only other piece of furniture in the room was an enormous wardrobe. So large, in fact, that she wondered if she ought to place a ward on that too, for it seemed possible that it could be a doorway to another land. Such things were regular occurrences in Tales of the Fae. She opened the wardrobe, afraid of what might lie within. She was also feeling guilty about rifling through a stranger’s closet.

  To Arianette’s relief, there was only clothing inside. And oh, what clothing. A confection of satin, velvet, and lace gowns in every color of the rainbow arranged on hangers. More casual leggings, tunics, and nightgowns sat folded on a set of shelves within. Arianette selected one of the simpler nightgowns and removed it from the shElf. Woven of a sky blue gauzy fabric, it was unlike anything she’d ever touched before.

  She was still clad in the soiled shift she’d worn to the night fire. Already the strange magic of that night felt as if it had been days ago. It couldn’t have been more than a few hours since she’d crossed the Veil, but time moved differently in the Ethereal Realms. She’d heard that said before, but hadn’t understood what it meant until now.

  She fingered the nightgown in her hands again and glanced furtively around. Still feeling a bit guilty, she removed her own torn dress and pulled the gauzy nightgown over her head. Yawning, she made her way over to the imposing canopy bed.

  Arianette was not petite. She was half a head taller than most of the other girls in the Greenwood. This bed was so large that she had to stand on tiptoes to climb into it. She wondered how a tiny Fae like Lorna would ever manage. Then she remembered. She was likely the only being here who did not have wings or magical teleportation abilities. She suddenly felt small and lost in this strange world.

  She did not think she would fall asleep in this strange chilly marble room, knowing Fae surrounded her, and unsure of their intentions. Pulling the sheets up to her chin and taking several deep breaths, she wondered briefly if the featherbed might be enchanted. It was so cloudlike that she thought it could be a Faery attempt to lull her into sleep and submission.

  If it was, it worked. Within moments Arianette had drifted off into a restless slumber.

  CHAPTER 4

  THE SKYLORD

  Braedin left Lorna and the girl and headed straight for the Skylord’s chambers. As the commander of the Sky Guard, it was his duty to report any intrigues occurring in the Court to his half-brother. This business with the Mortal certainly counted as intrigue.

  The girl that intrigued Braedin. She was not at all what he had expected. She wasn’t regal. Nor did she appear to be a warrior in that frail Mortal body. But there was something enchanting about her. The very air around the girl hummed with a strange intensity that felt like magic.

  As he strode past the guards outside the Skylord’s private chamber they raised their hands in a salute. Braedin returned the gesture, still lost in thought.

  “Is he alone?” Braedin asked a young guard as he approached the door to Varik’s solar. The guard shook his head, blushing bright scarlet.

  That was enough to make the nature of his brother’s company clear. Braedin had two options. He could wait for Varik to finish up with his lady friends, or he could interrupt them and say his piece. Ordinarily, Braedin was a patient man and preferred not to stir his brother’s quick temper by interrupting him. News of a Mortal girl, who might be the Legion Queen, was pressing, though.

  Braedin brushed past the guard’s feeble protests and opened the door to the solar. He strained his eyes, peering into the dim room. Plush velvet curtains were drawn across the massive windows that encircled the Skylord’s tower, blocking out both the light of the dawn and the panoramic view of the mountains.

  A drunken female giggle broke the silence.

  “Captain Redwing!” a high pitched female voice slurred.

  Braedin scowled into the darkness. Crossing the room, he yanked the curtains open, flooding the room with watery morning light. Then he turned to his brother who was reclining on a divan. Varik’s eyes were bloodshot, his hair mussed, and there were three pixies draped over him.

  Varik hissed at the light streaming through the windows and squinted at Braedin, his lip curling into a scowl of irritation.

  “Brother, how … unexpected. I don’t recall sending you an invitation to this little soiree, but as you can see there is plenty to go around.” Varik gestured, encompassing the three pixies as well the table. It was laden with cheese, caviar, dried meats, and honey buns. Half empty glasses and decanters were strewn about, as were neatly arranged rows of fairy dust.

  “I’m here on business,” Braedin replied stiffly. Varik snorted, reaching up to caress the bare breast of one of the pixie women who giggled again.

  “You’re so droll, captain,” Varik complained, brushing a tangle of silvery hair from his face.

  “Lorna has returned with the girl,” Braedin said, curt.

  “What girl?” Varik asked picking up a silver goblet from the table and taking a long drink.

  “The Wood Witch’s daughter,” Braedin explained.

  Varik’s eyebrow drew up into an arch.

  “And?”

  “Perhaps you should dismiss your company before we discuss this further.” Braedin indicated the pixies with a jerk of his chin. For a moment Varik only gazed into his wine while Braedin’s frown of irritation deepened.

  Varik clapped his hands together sharply.

  “Ladies, I fear our time is at an end,” Varik said, voice smooth as silk. The pixies whined in unison. “Get gone. Now,” he ordered. His voice had a note of command in it, and the bitter tang of magic swirled through the room as he brushed their cloying hands off of him. As if enchanted, the girls rose and breezed past Braedin, then out of the chamber. Braedin closed the door behind them.

  “Have a seat, brother, have a drink. Maybe a bit of dust? You look tense, as usual.” Varik’s tunic was wine stained and he wore no pants. Still even in his current condition, Varik maintained a silvery ethereal beauty, and an aura of intense magic. The power of his pure royal blood. A power Braedin himself would never wield. Not like Varik, anyway. He was born of the wrong father.

  “No thank you. One of us needs to keep our wits about us,” Braedin grumbled, lowering himself onto a settee across from Varik. Varik shrugged, indifferent.

  “So the girl,” he prompted. Braedin hesitated. He did not want his brother to go off on one of his tantrums. He would have to be careful with how he delivered this news.

  “She is not quite what we expected,” Braedin began. Varik downed the rest of his wine.

  “When is anything ever,” he grumbled. “What’s wrong with her?”

  The Skylord reached across the table and poured himself another goblet of wine, spilling a good deal of it across the silver cloth. The red stain spread across the pale linen. As Braedin watched it grow, a vague sense of dread filled him. He chastised himself silently. He could not go around seeing omens in every spilled glass of wine. Not with Varik around, at any rate. That would mean an omen every hour. Still a coldness lingered in his veins as he cleared his throat and went on.