Bourn’s Edge (12 page)

“Then could you give her to someone else? Me, for example.”

Tarian’s intake of breath was drowned by the Queen’s exclamation. “
You?
”

Cassie worked hard not to feel nettled. “Why not? You have a surplus of champions, your majesty, but we mortals have none. It would be a generous gift, much appreciated.”

“Is she mad?” Mab spoke over Cassie’s head.

“No, your majesty,” came Tarian’s voice. “She’s brave and resourceful and worthy of your admiration.” The words brought a glow to Cassie’s insides.

Mab snorted. “Now I know the world has gone topsy-turvy and you along with it.” Her gaze returned to Cassie’s face. “You hardly know Tarian yet you are willing to defend her as a lion would her cubs. Once her true nature is revealed, though, your feelings towards her will change. Mortals have weak stomachs.”

“If by that you’re talking about her love of violence,” said Cassie, “then I’ve seen her at her worst. She killed four men with no more thought or emotion than if she were killing vermin. But it was for my sake, your majesty. She risked her life to save me. How could I hate her for that? She was my champion, your majesty. May she not continue to be so?”

The silence that followed seemed endless.

“Well, this
is
touching,” said Mab, sounding both resigned and bitter. “Perhaps I should unmake you both, for if one dies the other will surely pine.”

Her lip curled, and when she fixed her eyes on Tarian, traced a shape in the air, and spoke what sounded like gibberish, Cassie feared the worst. As a pale green light engulfed Tarian, Cassie was convinced she had failed. But as she watched, terrified, Tarian’s haggard expression eased. And when Tarian’s hand dropped from her shoulder, and Cassie saw that the flesh beneath the gashed and bloodstained tunic was whole once more, the sheer relief made her giddy.

“My thanks, your majesty.” Tarian bowed, then stepped forward to join Cassie. The dogs looked up at their mistress with adoring eyes, their tails wagging.

Then Mab gestured again. And this time the green light settled over Cadel. The healing spell took longer to work on him, perhaps because his injuries were so severe. As skull fragments and mangled flesh moved, knitting themselves back together, Cassie pressed a fist to her mouth and tried not to be sick. At last, he stirred, let out a groan, and sat up.

A ripple of applause greeted what had obviously been a powerful working. With a casual wave, Mab dismissed it, and turned back to Tarian.

“The time has come to put an end to this dance, Tarian.” Mab sounded tired, and Cassie wondered if it was because using her magic had drained her or due to something more. “Once, we brought each other joy, but these days there is only pain.” Mab expelled a breath. “But as I have been so recently reminded, I am the Queen and may do as I please. Very well. Though I could make you love me, I will not. Which leaves but one option.”

Her lips moved, and she gestured at herself. Cassie exchanged a wide-eyed glance with Tarian as the tiredness and anguish disappeared from Mab’s eyes and her face smoothed. Mab exhaled and stretched out her arms, the way one does after putting down a burden carried for too long.

“It is done.” She smiled, but when she returned her attention to Tarian her smile dimmed. “You fought well today, Tarian. Take your prize and go. And do not return. For I have expunged all affection for you as though it never was.”

At her words, Tarian’s jaw worked. Cassie grasped her hand. It felt icy to the touch.

“Cadel.” Mab beckoned. He threw a triumphant glance at Tarian before getting to his feet and hurrying to join his Queen. She placed her hand in the crook of his elbow. “Let it be known that Cadel is once more my champion,” she announced in ringing tones. “And let it also be known that, henceforth, Tarian daughter of Brangwen daughter of Eyslk is no subject of mine. Faerie is barred to her forever, and if she should return a second time,” her eyes flashed, “I will unmake her.”

Tarian’s face was impassive, but her tension transmitted itself through their clasped hands. Cassie squeezed her fingers, and Tarian gave her a sideways glance before bowing her head to the Queen.

“As you will it, so shall it be,” she murmured.

Mab nodded. Then without another word or a backward glance, she turned her back and strolled away, arm in arm with her champion, her dog trotting at her heels.

TARIAN’S HORSE AIMED a petulant kick at Anwar. The wolfhound evaded the hoof and tried to nip a fetlock in reprisal.

“Hey!” said Cassie. “Pack it in, you two.”

Cassie was ill at ease in the saddle, so Tarian had declined the second horse Einion offered, mounted up behind Cassie, and was keeping her steady with a hand round her waist. The warm press of Cassie’s jean-clad hips against her thighs was a pleasant bonus.

She sucked in a lungful of air and tried to commit its fragrance to memory. This time she would not be coming back.

“Are you all right?” Cassie twisted to look at her. “You’ve been very quiet.”

“Just tired.” She guided the horse left onto the bridle track.

“I’m not surprised. All that fighting. And that was an awful wound you took.”

“I’ve had worse.”

“As bad as Cadel’s?”

“Mm.”

Cassie shuddered. “I don’t think I’ll ever forget the sight of his head knitting itself back together like that. It was decent of Mab to heal your wound as well.”

“And unexpected.”

Mab’s gesture, surprising as it was, had come as a welcome relief, for Tarian had been too exhausted and in too much pain to take on the task herself. Einion would have healed her if she had asked him to, but still . . . The tiredness she felt now was more mental than physical, she suspected. It was strange to think she no longer held a special place in Mab’s affections. She could not deny that, though it had been a nuisance at times, it had been flattering to have the Queen enamoured of her.

A glade full of wildflowers appeared up ahead, and at its centre shimmered the faint haze that was the boundary between the worlds.

“I remember this,” said Cassie, looking around.

Tarian reined in, dismounted, and helped Cassie down.

With a grunt of relief, Cassie rubbed the feeling back into her legs. “Why do they make horses so wide?” She crossed to a clump of wildflowers and stooped to pick them. “These are nice. Such a wonderful scent.”

Tarian tied the reins to the pommel, so they wouldn’t get tangled on a branch, slapped the horse’s rump, and sent it back the way it had come. The dogs chased the panicked animal, just for fun, until it was out of sight, before bounding back to Tarian’s side.

“Bad dogs,” she told them, but she didn’t mean it. They rubbed their cheeks against her, inviting her to pat them.

“Here.” She turned to find Cassie holding out a posy of blooms in pastel shades. “These are for you.”

No one had ever given Tarian flowers before and for a moment she was at a loss. “Thank you.” She tucked them in her belt.

“Will you miss it?” Cassie indicated their surroundings.

“There hasn’t been a day when I don’t. Come on.” Tarian held out her hand.

“Come where?” Cassie took it.

Tarian pointed to the shimmer.

“I’ll have to take your word for it. I think I can feel it, though. Like static electricity.”

Tarian stepped towards the boundary and gave Cassie’s hand a tug. “It’s a shame we had to return the horse. We’ll have to walk once we cross.” She took another step. “Ready?” Cassie took a breath and nodded. “Here we go.”

In the course of the next step their surroundings flickered and changed. Suddenly it was drizzling, and no longer midafternoon but early morning, judging by the light. The flower-strewn glade had become a rough clearing, the muted sounds of the waking forest replacing the loud trill of the blackbird, and the temperature had dropped. One second the dogs weren’t there, the next they were, sniffing around the clearing and cocking their legs against a tree.

Cassie looked at the massive oak tree and the ash. “Are we back in Bourn Forest?”

“Yes.” Tarian released her hand and pointed towards the trail she always used. “This way.” She pushed her way between the branches, then realised Cassie wasn’t following her. Puzzled, she went back. Cassie was standing by a narrow trail on the other side of the clearing, frowning.

“I’m sure I came this way,” she called. “Look. Hoofprints.”

“Maybe so,” said Tarian. “But my way is shorter and will bring us out in my back garden.”

“Well, why didn’t you say so?”

Tarian smiled and set off along the trail once more, Cassie at her side, the dogs bringing up the rear. The foliage was dripping and it wasn’t long before they were wet too.

“It
would
be raining.” Cassie brushed a strand of damp hair out of her eyes. “And cold.”

Tarian grunted. She was missing the sweatshirt she had left in Faerie. This tunic was too thin for an English Spring.

“Listen to me, complaining about the weather,” exclaimed Cassie, after a few more paces. “I should be thankful just to be here at all.” She looked at Tarian. “Thank you for coming after me. You always seem to be rescuing me.”

“It was my fault Mab targeted you in the first place.” Tarian held back a branch to allow Cassie past. “And it was you who persuaded the Queen to spare my life. You have quite a way with words.”

“My friends are always telling me I talk too much.” Cassie’s sigh made Tarian chuckle.

They walked on a little way, the only sound the crack of twigs beneath their feet or the squelch of mud. Then Tarian recognised an old silver birch leaning at an unusual angle. “Nearly there.”

“Good.” Cassie wiped raindrops from her eyelashes. “I could do with a sit down and a cup of tea.”

“Or something stronger,” said Tarian, as she emerged into the open and saw her back garden stretching out in front of her. The dogs bounded ahead, stopped outside the kitchen door, and looked back at her, tongues lolling. She paused as unexpected emotion flooded through her.

I’m back
.

“What is it?” asked Cassie softly.

“I didn’t realise how much I loved this place until I thought I might never set eyes on it again.” She studied the neglected garden, the window frames in need of another coat of paint, the dirty windowpanes. “I know it’s nothing compared to Mab’s palace but it’s . . .” She shrugged.

“Home,” completed Cassie.

Tarian returned the smile.

She had left the back door unlocked, so she lifted the latch and walked in. While the dogs made straight for their water bowls, drank their fill, and flopped down in their baskets, she turned to survey her kitchen, drinking in the signs of a life put on hold when the Fae hunting party arrived.

She remembered the posy of flowers in her belt, filled a glass with water from the tap, and placed them in it. Their fragrance filled the kitchen.
A memento of Faerie. They won’t last long
.

A shiver reminded her that she was soaked to the skin. “Put the kettle on,” she told Cassie. “I’m going to change into something warmer.”

Upstairs, she discarded the blood-soaked tunic and breeches and pulled on a sweatshirt and jeans. Then she visited the bathroom and made herself presentable.

Cassie looked up as she re-entered the kitchen. A tea towel was draped round her neck, and her hair was fetchingly tousled from its use. Tea was brewing in the pot, and she had set out two mugs. She reached for the milk bottle that she must have taken from Tarian’s fridge. “Milk and sugar? Or something stronger?”

“Just milk.” Tarian flopped down on a chair. Cassie set her mug on the table next to her. “Thanks.” Several sips of tea later, she noticed that Cassie had been frowning at the kitchen clock for a while. “Is it slow?”

Cassie glanced at her wristwatch before answering. “No. But I was just wondering. How long do you think we’ve been gone? Fairy tales say a day in Faerie is a year here.”

“Another of those things that folklore hasn’t got quite right. Time passes at the same rate, but our days are out of synch—how much depends on which crossing you use.”

“There are other entrances than the one in Bourn Forest?”

Tarian nodded. “Most have fallen into disuse though.”

“I see.” Cassie looked at the clock again. It was only seven-thirty in the morning. “So we’ve been away, what, a day at most?”

“Not even that. I’d guess it’s Monday morning.”

Cassie mouthed the word, “Monday.” She blinked as something occurred to her. “Liz Hayward’s going to wonder where I spent last night. She’ll think you and I . . .” She blushed.

“So what if she does?” Her reaction amused Tarian. “You’re a grown woman.”

“You don’t mind people thinking that?” Cassie’s gaze was intent.

“Why should I?”

“I just thought . . .” She gave a shrug and subsided, muttering, “I don’t know what I thought.”

Tarian cocked her head. “No?” Cassie’s behaviour since they’d returned from Faerie was confusing her. Now she knew who Tarian was—
what
she was—why hadn’t Cassie fled at the first opportunity? Tarian had been trying her best not to invade Cassie’s privacy, but now she extended her senses. There was no trace of the fear, the revulsion, in Cassie that she had every right to expect. Just a mix of gratitude and attraction. Tarian glanced at the flowers sitting in the glass of water.

“You didn’t put a spell on me, did you?” asked Cassie. She had followed Tarian’s glance.

“What kind of spell? Oh.” She smiled. “If you’re attracted to me it’s not because of any spell.”

Cassie’s eyes narrowed. “How do you know I’m attracted to you?”

Tarian wasn’t about to give away any more secrets just yet. “Do you give flowers to people you don’t like?” She cocked her head. “If it helps, I’m attracted to you too.”

Cassie gave her a relieved smile. “It helps.”

“We didn’t get off to a very good start on Saturday night, did we?”

“No.”

“If dinner had gone to plan, I was hoping to do this.” Tarian stood up, took hold of Cassie’s hands, and drew her to her feet.

“What?” asked Cassie. But from her shy expression she knew very well. And when Tarian bent her head and kissed her, tentatively at first, then more surely, tasting the flavour of tea on her mouth, she found her kiss returned.