Serpentine Tongue (4 page)

Dearg winced. “There’s a time I couldn’t say a bad thing about the Captain, but I’ve learned much since our fall from favor. He is indeed a hard man.”

Her hand fluttered to her chest. “Hard? The man is barbaric.”

Dearg shifted uncomfortably. “Did I not come across you one night with him?”

“Yes. You pulled him off me within hours of the Queen ordering me to marry him. Together, they’d toasted the alliance, and I left to keep my own counsel. He came upon me in the hall, determined he already owned my body.”

“I wasn’t clear headed myself, but I remember your ripped bodice, the look on your face, horrified.”

Her cheeks flushed an angry red. “He had no doubt I’d submit to his will. I taught him differently.”

He nodded at the green fire in the hearth. “You scorched him with a fire charm. His brows didn’t grow back for months.”

“Had you not been there to stop him by physical force, I’d have done much to see to his demise. I saw my life from that moment on
, bound by weak rulers determined to break me. I wouldn’t have it.”

“I certainly hadn’t given it that much thought. I assumed it was a onetime occurrence.” Dearg tapped his chin with his forefinger. “You left that night. How did you get past the guard?”

“You’d be surprised what some people do for exorbitant amounts of riches. I wouldn’t need currency here. A few decades ago, I’d started this cabin, as a place to escape from court for a while. Return to nature and the Goddess. I never thought of it as my only refuge.”

Fallon looked around, the pieces he’d missed of Siobhan falling into place. The expensive dresses, her regal manners that occasionally peeked through the hobbit guise. “Do you ever miss it, the court, I mean?”

She pursed her lips. “I miss some of my friends, but none of the rest. There’s something to be said about living off the land, relying solely on the Goddess to lead my path.”

“But what do you do out here, all by your lonesome?” Dearg ran his fingers over the stone and mortar wall.

“I tend my gardens, and talk to the wee ones. I pick berries and hunt for game. I was always a decent archer. I swordplay by myself, an activity that was frowned on at court. I cook; look after a few feral cats that wander through my land every now and then. But most importantly, I avoid all contact with every Sidhe,” she said pointedly. “Anyone who could reveal my location to the Queen.”

Fallon stood, and went to her side. She looked away as he slipped his hand into hers. “I promise you, no matter what happens to us, we would never betray your location, or breathe a word of your existence.”

“She won’t come for you. The Queen assumed you dead, or better yet, preferred to think of you that way. Given what you’ve told us,” Dearg said.

“And what of you, Dearg? Would you tell the Captain of my whereabouts, or has your loyalty fallen so far?”

His sarcastic smile highlighted the mischievous light in his eyes. “My loyalty only extends to myself, and Fallon. As far as the rest of the world, they can rot.”

“That didn’t answer my question, though I suppose I can read between the lines well enough. You want to know what you’ll gain from me. I gave your friend refuge, when he might have died from his wounds. I could’ve abandoned him for death, quiet easily. But, I’m not like you. That has to count for something, if he means so much to you..”

Fallon steeled himself for an argument. His friend was nothing, if not hardheaded.

“It does, for Fallon,” Dearg said. “If you want my allegiance, then you must promise us
both
shelter from the coming storm. We’re being hunted by the Queen’s Knights with Garbhan at the head, even as we speak. They close in by the hour.”

Siobhan’s eyes rolled wildly in her head. Her fingers tightened around his. “How close are they? Did you bring him here?”

“Why would I do that?”

“Because you’re not careful enough. You rush headlong into battle, before your intelligence tells you otherwise. If you’ve brought the wrath of the Queen down on my head, I will kill you,” she snapped.

Dearg tapped his foot. “I’d love to see you try, woman. Though I’d hate to ruffle your hair in anything other than bed.” His hot gaze slid along her body, and Fallon groaned.

Magick raced along his arm, as her body became a pyre of heat. Despite the burn, he grabbed her, forcing her face in his direction. “Siobhan, he bates you, testing your strength. That is all. I promise he will not betray you.”

“My, my lofty words leave your mouth for promising what I will or will not do,” Dearg said snidely.

Fallon cupped her cheek, ignoring the pain radiating through him as she scorched him. “Friend, if you value your life, or have any decency inside of that cold breast of yours, assure our hostess that you will not give her up to a brawny dolt.”

Siobhan’s anger abated, replaced with a fear so sharp it cut him. Her eyes glittered with unshed tears. “I cannot go back there. I won’t be used as her weapon.”

Dearg’s hard expression softened. Perhaps, it was the hint of tears that pierced that thick skull. When they were alone next, he’d ask what went through Dearg’s head at the time.

He came forward, and offered her his hand. “You will not. We will protect your secret.”

With reluctance, she slipped her hand in Dearg’s.

“We are of the same ilk in this regard,” Fallon said soothingly. “I cannot go back either. Not ever, and live.”

“What you’ve done isn’t so bad.” Her voice trembled.

“Upon our curse, I swore an oath to kill the Queen. If I see her again, I will have to fulfill my words, or be taken as an oath breaker.”

She blinked, and a single tear slid down her cheek, sizzling from the heat of her magick. He caught the bead with his forefinger, just as it evaporated. Her body cooled, and she sagged, the weight of the world on her slender shoulders.

“We are exiles, you and I,” Dearg whispered. “Let us be friends, to stand against all that would break us.”

She stared into the distance of nothing. “I have not trusted anyone in too long.”

“Then perhaps it is time for a change,” Fallon said.

Weeks passed in quasi-peace.

Siobhan tucked her hair further into her cloak as she strolled, after strengthening her wards. A daily routine at dawn, by pouring magick that kept the cottage hidden from prying eyes. She’d never taken so much precaution, but she hadn’t so much to lose before.

Fallon and Dearg had gone to dig through her vegetable patch, after their own jaunt into the woods. If they went too long without shifting, they woke up in pain-filled fits her magick stood helpless against. The Queen’s curse had been backed with the Seelie magick and a royal command of the elements, a brand not even Siobhan could cure.

And oh, had she tried. How could one despicable woman be granted so much? What she had done to her friends, no one deserved to live with. Fallon and Dearg had to carefully monitor their tempers, lest the change come upon them, rendering them weak as the shift came. She’d resorted to working with them during the night, to fine-tune the shift when they wanted it to happen. They’d made progress every day, to separate their emotion from the dragon’s heart now beating in their breasts.

She’d inquired as to how the Queen accomplished this unheard of feat, listening in distraught horror, realizing the extent the Queen had fallen in morality and sanity alike. Two fledging dragons had been captured and subdued while the Queen stripped their still beating hearts from their breasts. The organs had been placed in Fallon and Dearg’s ribcages during a delicate operation, as magick kept them alive for the entire court to witness. The pain they must’ve endured! Weak and broken, they’d been cast into dirty underground cells to heal. Even Sidhe could sicken and fade under such conditions.

By comparison, Siobhan’s fate paled. Little else endeared someone so quickly to her as the Queen’s special brand of punishment. Further, she’d gotten to know the proud, hardworking men who resided in her small cottage. She smiled shyly, though no one was around. She’d come to care about them in an unexpected, exciting way.

A noise brought up her head. Though the search parties had thinned, the Knights still hunted the woods at random intervals. She hurried through the trees, slathering glamour over her body as she went. She aged her skin, wrinkling her face and hands, dulling the color of her eyes with a layer of grey, making her appear mostly blind. She lightened the green in her hair, streaking the blonde silver.

At the last moment, she switched directions.

Their voices preceded them, mere seconds before the pair of Knights appeared. Her breath slammed from her lungs, heart constricting. Garbhan lead the much shorter Knight. Both carried swords at the ready, as if they anticipated a monster lurking in the shade.

She struggled to keep a calm expression as her gaze collided with the Captain’s.

“Oy, my lady.” Garbhan smiled without the coyness or cunning he was famous for. Bags marred the smooth perfection of his cheeks. “Where did you come from?”

Siobhan cleared her throat, cupping her ear with a curled hand. “What was that now?”

Garbhan sighed. “Why are you out here, all alone?” He yelled loud enough that the birds overhead took flight.

“Searching for berries, kind sir. Going to make me a pie, I will.”

“You live all the way out here?”

“I do.” Mentally she pushed at him, sans magick. Just wishing, praying to the Goddess.
Be gone, Captain. I am nothing more than a spindly old woman
.

He studied her much too intently. “What are you?”

“Just a forest Spite is all, sir. Gave up my immortality, I did.”

“For what?”

“What else? Love of a mortal, sir.”

The Captain barked a laugh. “You gave up your power for nothing.”

“Love can be everything one person has, sir,” she answered curtly, allowing too much of her dialectic and courtly infliction in her voice. She started off, but Garbhan grabbed her arm.

“You shouldn’t be walking out here alone. Criminals to the crown are afoot in these woods. The Queen has issued an order to kill on sight. I wouldn’t want you getting in the crossfire.”

She swallowed the flutter of nervousness and fear. “Thank you for the warning, kind sir. Home, I’ll go.”

“Good. Stay there.”

She bobbed her head, hoping she’d put enough sagging flesh at her jowls to disgust him. “That I shall, sir, that I shall.”

She forced a limp, not too exaggerated, but enough that her cloak twitched as she fought the urge to run for her life. They didn’t follow. Or so she thought. The blaring race of her heart might’ve covered any sound they’d made.

Time was an enemy, yet forty-five minutes passed as she rounded the forest. Certain they had exited the area, she cut across a stream, soaking the hem of her cloak and dress, which dragged as she came up behind the cottage.

Fallon and Dearg towered over the vegetable garden, hands on their hips. At their feet, lay her basket filled to the brim.

She pulled up short of them. Out here, in the open, wards or no, a Knight could see them. If her inattention became too much, and an archer was here, they’d be shot. Undeniably dead. Her hands shook beneath her cloak.

“Where have you been?” Fallon rushed her, a flush high in her cheeks. “We expected you an hour past.”

A shiver ran down her spine, and she chastised herself. She was better than a sniveling whelp cowering from chastisement.

“I encountered the guard,” she whispered.

Dearg pushed her cloak from her hair, caressing her cheek, turning her face to examine her. “Did they hurt you?”

She smirked away his overprotective concern. “Obviously not. I shrouded myself in glamour. They hadn’t suspected my identity, I’m sure of it. But the Queen has issued a death sentence for both of you.”

Fallon waved the comment off. “They have to find us first, and you’ve done everything in your power to see it not so.”

“I’m not infallible,” Siobhan said, sighing with weariness. Not even noon and the day had stretched passed the Summerlands.

“You’re close enough,” Dearg insisted. “If anyone in the Seelie court or beyond is able, it is you.”

He rang with sincerity. They’d believed in her so much, placed her on a pedestal. She’d break her neck, if she so much as fell from the height.

She went to the wall, pushing her cloak over her arm. She pulled her sword from the scabbard, and untied the belt at her waist. The singing through the air was her only warning. She whirled just in time to parry Dearg’s sword, the metallic clang resonating.

“Do you see my point?” He scarcely missed her jab. “You never let your guard down, not for a moment.”

Siobhan twirled with dancer’s feet as he thrust his sword into what he once perceived her weak spot. She’d allowed him to believe that in practice. She exploited his aggressive nature, by stepping back, relaxing her pose. Allow the enemy to think they’d won, particularly an arrogant one. They’d find their undoing became all too easy.

Dearg feigned right, and she swung left. “Ahh, you’ve learned too much from me.”