Sirensong f-3 Page 15

  My knees steadied, and the vines that held me snaked away. Then the circle around me receded, and the Green Lady reformed into her humanoid shape. People rushed in to help me, so I didn’t see the Green Lady disappear back into the forest.

  Ethan was the first to reach me, wrapping me in his arms, practically smothering me. His magic tingled over me, and I knew he was healing the myriad pinprick wounds the Green Lady’s thorns had left. I put my arms around him and clung to him, burying my face against his chest, reveling in his warmth and comfort.

  “That was one of the bravest, stupidest things you’ve ever done,” he said into my hair. “You just scared ten years off my life.”

  I let out a little laugh, adrenaline still pumping through my system. “You’re immortal, dummy.”

  “I was before I met you,” he quipped.

  I would have loved to have stayed right where I was, oblivious to the outside world as I reveled in the glory of Ethan’s arms. Unfortunately, the outside world had other plans. Henry was barking out orders, trying to get us all mounted up and on the move again. I reluctantly let go of Ethan and found my dad practically on top of us, glowering.

  “You’ll ride with me the rest of the way,” he informed me. The look on his face promised I would not have a fun ride.

  “Um, maybe I should go back to the wagon,” I suggested. “I’m kind of sore…”

  “Nice try,” he said with a strained smile as he gestured his horse over.

  I sent Ethan a pleading look, but he held up his hands and backed away. “Not getting in the middle of this one.”

  “Wise,” my dad agreed, giving Ethan a significant look that sent him scurrying.

  I expected my dad’s lecture to start the moment I groaningly got on the horse behind him. The fact that it didn’t just heightened the anticipation—which I’m sure was exactly what my dad wanted.

  With the Green Lady no longer blocking the way, our caravan mobilized once more, climbing the hill to the circle of standing stones. It was a tight fit to get all the horses and wagons within the circle, but we managed it, packing into the center, leaving about a foot or two between those of us on the outside of the circle—like my dad and me—and the stones.

  Apparently, we were leaving that space so that Henry would have easy access to the stones. On foot, he walked from stone to stone, touching each one and whispering something under his breath. I felt the magic gathering, stronger with each stone Henry touched.

  By the time Henry was halfway around the circle, there was enough magic in the air that I had trouble drawing in a full breath. I closed my eyes and concentrated on breathing, knowing it was only going to get worse.

  “Dana?” my dad asked, concern in his voice. “Are you all right?”

  “Yeah,” I said, hoping I sounded convincing. “Just a bit of delayed reaction. And a little freak-out about whatever’s about to happen.” I sucked in a breath of air, wishing Henry would just get on with it and let go of the magic before I passed out. I had to act as normal as possible, unless I wanted everyone in the entire caravan to know I could sense the magic.

  “There’s no need to ‘freak out,’” Dad assured me, the words sounding kind of awkward coming from him. “Using the standing stones requires a lot of magic, but you won’t feel anything except for a moment of disorientation.”

  Yeah, right, I thought as I fought for air.

  “Hold on,” my dad said. “He’s going to activate the stones in a second, and the vertigo can be a bit uncomfortable.”

  I figured the magic overload was so uncomfortable already I wouldn’t even notice a little vertigo on top of it. I was wrong.

  You know that feeling you get in the pit of your stomach when a roller coaster is whooshing down a really steep hill? Well imagine that, only ten times worse, and combine it with the feeling of that roller coaster going upside down and sideways at the same time. That would be about how I felt when Henry’s magic activated the standing stones.

  Even sitting down and holding on to my dad wasn’t enough to quell the falling feeling, and if he hadn’t held my arms against his body, I might have tumbled off the horse.

  The only good news was that the effect didn’t last very long. Oh, and that I didn’t hurl, though my stomach gave the possibility serious consideration.

  When I opened my eyes, we were still in the middle of a circle of standing stones, but these were situated in a broad clearing rather than on the top of a hill. I had to admit, that was rather cool—if also terrifying. The caravan started forward again, following a road that was far broader and more busily trafficked than any we’d yet been on. (Not surprisingly, considering we were now only a couple hours’ travel from the Sunne Palace.)

  It was once we’d taken our habitual place near the back of the caravan that Dad’s not unexpected lecture began.

  I bit my tongue and didn’t argue with him, because I knew it would do me no good. I hoped I’d never again have to step up to the plate like I had today, but I wasn’t about to promise not to. Elizabeth, in her terror, would have been shredded by the Green Lady’s embrace, and I would have drowned in guilt if I’d let that happen. I had done the right thing, and nothing my dad said was going to change my mind.

  Chapter Twelve

  It was about one hour after we’d passed through the standing stones when we came upon the first real town we’d seen since we’d left Avalon. Of course, this being Faerie, the town was like nothing I’d ever seen before. The Fae—according to my dad—were much more connected to the land than humans. They didn’t do row houses or apartment buildings or stuff like that. Even small homes came with at least a couple acres of land.

  The homes were designed to blend with the surrounding forest, and some of them did it so well they were almost invisible, walls thickly covered in ivy, rooftop gardens making the whole house look like nothing more than an unusually steep hill. If I didn’t look closely at my surroundings I might have thought we were still traveling through uninhabited forest.

  The illusion of traveling through empty forest was somewhat lessened when doors and windows opened, and people popped their heads out to watch our procession. I half-expected people to come running out of their houses throwing garlands of flowers—isn’t that how pompous princes are supposed to be received when returning home?—but no one did more than stand there and stare.

  I know the Fae are way more reserved than humans, so I wasn’t really expecting such an enthusiastic greeting; however, I couldn’t shake the feeling that there was a tinge of disapproval in our reception, like Henry wasn’t everyone’s favorite person. It didn’t help that we were traveling down the only major road, and Henry’s people were forcing other travelers off to the side, like they didn’t have as much right to be on the road as he did.

  No one protested the unfair treatment—stupid Fae class values!—but I caught more than one person shooting irritated and impatient glances our way. Once the prince was far enough past not to see, of course.

  I thought after passing those first few houses we might eventually come to some kind of business district, a place with stores or inns or other, more town-like buildings, but the landscape remained the same, small, unobtrusive houses, spaced widely apart. There were no farms, no pastures, no orchards—nothing other than residences.

  “Where’s the downtown?” I asked my dad.

  “You’re looking at it,” he responded, and I wondered at first if there was more to the houses than met the eye. My father soon clarified. “The Sidhe do not engage in commerce as humans do.”

  “But they have to get food and supplies from somewhere, right?”

  “Yes, but those transactions are considered unattractive and are kept out of sight.”

  “Like Brownies,” I grumbled under my breath. “Heaven forbid the Sidhe be seen doing something so vulgar as buying food,” I said aloud. My dad just sighed and let the subject drop.

  Shortly after we crossed the border into the town, the road stopped all its gentle m
eandering and straightened out, giving me my first glimpse of the Sunne Palace in the distance.

  Fae houses might blend into the background of the surrounding forest, but the palace was very much meant to be seen.

  When I’d pictured the Faerie Queen’s palace, I’d imagined something beautiful and dainty and feminine. You know, like Cinderella’s castle at Disney. The imposing structure that rose out of the trees was about as far from my expectations as it could get.

  What met my eyes was a solid, towering wall of stone with a crenellated top, punctuated by tall, skinny windows—arrow slits? Hexagonal towers, made of the same gray stone, rose from each of the corners, with tall, skinny turrets sticking up from the top, making it look like the towers were giving the rest of the world the finger. There was nothing remotely pretty or dainty about the place, and it looked more like a fortress—or a prison—than a palace.

  This was a palace meant to remind everyone who caught sight of it that the Queen who resided there was untouchable and steeped in power, meant to intimidate the outside world and defend its Queen from attack. I suppose that considering the history of war between the Seelie and the Unseelie Courts, having a cozy little fortress to hole up in was only practical. No matter how ugly it was.

  “I guess subtlety isn’t one of Titania’s strong suits,” I said, keeping my voice down so no one but my dad could hear me.

  My dad chuckled softly. “No, it is not. In the eighteenth century, someone brought Titania a sketch of the Caernarfon Castle in Wales, and she fell in love with it. Titania had her palace rebuilt in its likeness, though it’s not an exact replica. To the Fae, mortal architecture is considered exotic, and this palace is stunningly beautiful.” He laughed again. “In a few hundred years or so, she will probably remodel it to resemble what you Americans would call a McMansion, because that will have become the new pinnacle of the exotic.”

  “Uh-huh,” I said, feeling an uncomfortable flutter of nerves as we approached the forbidding walls. I wouldn’t be surprised if instead of a welcome mat, the front door had a sign over it that said ABANDON HOPE ALL YE WHO ENTER HERE. I wanted quite desperately to go home.

  The road led right up to a set of massive wooden gates, beyond which was a bustling cobblestone courtyard. The gates were open, but I didn’t know if that was the norm, or if someone had seen Prince Henry coming and opened them. I hoped like hell the gates weren’t going to close after us. I already had more than enough of a sensation of entering a prison, thank you very much.

  The bustle of activity in the courtyard became a downright frenzy as our caravan trickled in. Henry, of course, made sure he was the center of attention, snapping out orders and generally being a self-important spoiled brat. Dad reined his horse to a stop and slid gracefully from the saddle. My own dismount was far less graceful, and I was glad for my dad’s steadying hand. I thought I’d been sore after riding solo, but that was nothing compared to my misery after hours of riding double. I kept a nervous eye on the gates, but no one closed them behind us. We weren’t trapped, no matter what the hairs on the back of my neck were trying to tell me.

  Together, Dad and I rounded up Kimber, Ethan, and Keane, and Dad started leading us to one of the enormous arching entrances.

  “What about Finn?” I asked, dragging my feet.

  “He’ll stay in the Knights’ barracks,” Dad answered over his shoulder.

  “Yeah,” Keane said with a sneer, “he’s a Knight, not a freaking guest.”

  Dad gave him the same kind of exasperated look he usually gave me when I commented on the Fae class system, but didn’t otherwise respond.

  At the entrance, my dad was greeted familiarly by several people, one of whom seemed to be something like a butler. The butler gave the rest of us a bit of a snooty look, then led us deeper into the palace, to a suite of rooms where we would stay until the Queen summoned me for the official presentation ceremony.

  I expected the inside of the palace to be as gloomy and forbidding as the outside, but it was much more pleasant. The floors were stone, but they were covered by luxuriously thick rugs, all featuring white roses on various jewel-tone backgrounds. The walls, too, were stone, but I could barely see them past the potted plants and climbing white roses that lined them. If I didn’t know better, I would have sworn I was walking through a greenhouse. I wondered how the high, narrow window slits provided enough light to keep the plants alive and flourishing. Maybe they didn’t need so much light because they were sustained with Fae magic.

  The high stone ceilings were all painted with wall-to-wall murals, sometimes depicting the sky, sometimes sunlit nature scenes. I guess that even while living in this stone monstrosity, Titania wanted to keep the illusion that she was one with nature.

  The butler directed each of us to our assigned rooms, but as soon as he had hurried off, leaving us to our own devices, Dad shuffled us around. Originally, we had each been given our own room. Dad didn’t want me staying alone, so he ordered me and Kimber to share, and he traded rooms with me, making sure that my room was the one farthest down the hall, and thereby putting himself, Ethan, and Keane between me and the main staircase. At least he let Ethan and Keane have their own rooms so the rest of us wouldn’t have to worry about them getting into a fight and bringing the palace down around our ears.

  “I don’t suppose anyone will give you any trouble,” my dad said, “but after the incident with the Bogles, I think it’s better to be safe.”

  The room Dad put me and Kimber in was inviting, if a little … excessive in its floral theme. Floral carpet, floral bedspread, potted flowers on shelves against one wall, a mural of wildflowers on another. But I couldn’t have cared less about the decor once I spotted the bed. I very much looked forward to making its acquaintance, the sooner, the better, but Dad insisted on inspecting the room first. I didn’t know what he was looking for. Until he found the doorway against one wall, hidden by an illusion spell. I felt Dad’s magic gather, and he cast some kind of spell.

  “I can’t prevent the door from opening,” he told me. “But I’ve set an alarm spell on it. If it should open, everyone nearby will know it.”

  For someone who kept insisting Titania’s promise of safe passage meant I wasn’t in danger, he seemed awfully paranoid. When he left Kimber and me alone in the room, we looked at each other nervously, then started laughing.

  “Bogle attacks, Green Ladies, standing stones, secret doorways … Was this what you expected when you volunteered to come with me?” I asked Kimber when we got our laughter under control.

  She shrugged. “Well, I wasn’t expecting a walk in the park. And hey, your first trip to Faerie should be memorable, right?”

  Oh, I was going to remember this trip all right. And as far as I was concerned, this was both my first and my last trip to Faerie. Nice place to visit, wouldn’t want to live there, and all that.

  I let out a groan of pleasure as I sank into the feather bed that was even softer than it looked. I could do with a long soak in a hot tub and then a massage, but I figured a late-afternoon nap was the best I could hope for at this point.

  “If I never see a horse again, it’ll be too soon,” I declared as I stretched out on the bed. It occurred to me that I really should have gone in search of a bathroom before even sitting on the bed if I didn’t want the covers to smell like horse, but it was too late now. “Try not to wake me up for at least three days.”

  Kimber snickered. “If you think we’re going to have that much time to ourselves, you don’t know jack about Faerie hospitality.”

  Unfortunately, Kimber was right. I hadn’t been lying down more than ten or fifteen minutes before my dad came knocking on the door to let us know that Titania was bestowing another “great honor” on us. We’d been invited to dine with Princess Elaine, who was one of the Queen’s granddaughters. According to my dad, I couldn’t be in the Queen’s presence until I’d been officially presented, but the princess would serve as a proxy because Court etiquette required someone play
hostess.

  The last thing I wanted to do after the exhausting, too-eventful journey was socialize with anyone, much less a princess of Faerie who might be cut from the same cloth as Henry. I stifled a groan.

  “I suppose it would be a horrendous insult if we declined?” I asked.

  Dad laughed like that was really funny. “We have ninety minutes to clean up and get dressed. The servants should deliver your bags shortly, and there are bathrooms at the end of the hall. The dress code is casual, which means wear the dressiest clothes you brought.”

  Better and better, I thought sourly as I reluctantly abandoned hope of a nap.

  * * *

  We met in the hallway at what my watch said was six thirty. The sun hadn’t gone down yet, but there were torches lit anyway. They must have been fueled by magic, because there was no smoke, and when I got close to one, I realized I could feel no heat coming off of it. Then I caught sight of the ceiling, and my jaw dropped.

  When we’d been shown to our rooms, the ceiling mural had been of an azure blue sky, artfully dotted with fluffy white clouds. Now the mural depicted a stunning sunset in tones of peach and pink and purple, and the clouds were thin and wispy.

  Kimber followed my gaze and smiled. “Cool,” she said.

  “Yeah,” I agreed, but I was more inclined to call it creepy.

  My dad had dressed in a charcoal gray suit that looked fantastic on him, especially with the splash of red from his power tie—not that I thought people in Faerie would recognize a power tie when they saw one. Kimber had chosen a light blue sundress paired with cute wedge heels, and I was wearing khakis with a button-down shirt, which was about as dressed up as I ever willingly got. Keane wore his usual all-black, and Ethan had chosen a polo shirt with dress pants. All in all, we were a bit of a motley crew, and we probably looked as silly to the Fae as Prince Henry had looked to me at that state dinner.