The Seven Year King (The Faerie Ring #3) (14 page)

“Any change?” Tiki asked gently.

“I think he’s worse,” Fiona sniffed. “It’s like he’s sinking into himself and disappearing.” She turned and clutched at Tiki’s hand.

“What can we do, Teek? I can’t let him die. Besides our family, he’s the only good thing that’s ever happened to me in my life.”

Tiki slid her arms around the frail girl and held her tight. Over Fiona’s shoulder Tiki’s eyes met Rieker’s. “We’re going to go find the Cup of Plenty.”

Fiona jerked back, her overflowing eyes searching Tiki’s as if she were afraid to hope. “When?”

“Now.”

Chapter Nineteen

I
n the coach house of Number Six, Grosvenor Square, a man who seemed to be wrought from the darkest shadows sniffed the air as though a tantalizing aroma wafted beneath his nostrils.

“Ah,” he whispered to himself. “I smell children.” He licked his lips in anticipation.

Chapter Twenty

A
fter discussing the situation, it was decided that Fiona would stay with Johnny while Tiki and Rieker would go to the northern border in search of the cup. As they approached the exit of the zagishire, Tiki pulled on Rieker’s arm. “It might be best to gather our things and go from here. I don’t want Larkin to know where we’ve gone and though I know he means well, I don’t want Callan following me everywhere.”

“Good point,” Rieker said. He glanced around the entry foyer but the nurse who had greeted them before was nowhere in sight.

“I’m going to dress like a wood nymph,” Tiki said, remembering her trek with Dain through the Wychwood and how difficult it had been to maneuver in the dress she’d worn. Plus, she’d left a trail and they’d been followed by Bearach, putting themselves at great risk.

Rieker raised his eyebrows. “A wood nymph?”

“With my top half covered,” Tiki added in a hurry. She’d forgotten that wood nymphs rarely covered their breasts. “To blend with the forest.”

“Not only to blend with the forest, but to blend with those who inhabit the forest,” Rieker said. He muttered Gaelic under his breath and swept his hand along the length of his body. As Tiki watched, his clothes seemed to dissolve to be replaced by garments that appeared to be made from the fabric of the Wychwood, greens and browns, looking like leaves, bark and shadows.

Tiki reached up and traced a finger across a faint scar that lined his jaw. “You remind me of Sean, the glamour Dain used when undercover in the UnSeelie court.”

Rieker caught her hand in his, and brought her fingers to his lips. “Dain’s bravery is my inspiration. I won’t rest until we set him free.”

Tiki’s heart ached at the thought of Dain being tortured. The image of his battered face was never far from her mind, nor was the constant worry of what new abuse Donegal might impose on his prisoner.

“We’ll find him,” she whispered. Her fingertips lingered on Rieker’s skin as if soaking up the essence of him. She ached to hold—to keep him safe, as well. “I promise.”

Rieker slid a hand behind her neck and pulled her toward him. His lips covered hers with a hunger Tiki knew all too well. Their breath mingled and became one, their tongues meeting in an explosion of sensation. His other hand slid around her waist, crushing her against him.

A soft groan escaped from Rieker as he kissed the corners of Tiki’s lips, then her cheeks, his lips and tongue leaving a trail of fire everywhere they touched. Tiki closed her eyes and let her head fall back as his lips moved below her ear, down her neck to the hollow at the base of her throat. His hand moved up to cup her breast—

A strangled cough broke the spell. Tiki opened her eyes to see the faerie nurse staring at them with an open mouth and a shocked expression. Her gaze went from Tiki to Rieker, then back to Tiki again. She seemed incapable of speech.

Instead of trying to explain the situation, Rieker simply nodded at the woman, who mumbled something unintelligible and rushed back out the door. A giggle rose in Tiki’s chest and she covered her mouth to keep it from breaking loose.

“Did you see the look on her face?”

“Apparently she doesn’t approve of half-breeds snogging the queen,” Rieker said with a chuckle.

Tiki frowned at his choice of words, but since he didn’t seem upset, she let it go.

“But the queen likes it.” She gave him a shy smile and squeezed his hand.

“And so does the half-breed.”

Tiki’s cheeks warmed with pleasure. She tightened her grip on his hand as they exited the zagishire and headed toward the Palace of Mirrors to prepare for their departure.

LATER, THE TREES of the Wychwood Forest swayed and moaned above Tiki and Rieker, almost as if in warning not to proceed. Tiki shivered, not only from the cool air, but also at the thought of seeking out such savage creatures as the Redcaps. They’d made a plan to go north to the border and find the goblins, but it was hard to know what to do beyond that, neither of them having been there before. The end goal was to recover the cup, but there were so many unknowns, it was impossible to plan much beyond finding those who were said to guard the cup.

“We’ll just have to go and see what we can find,” Rieker said, “and hope common sense and a little help from Lady Luck will serve us well.”

THEY’D LEFT AT dawn, wanting the light of daybreak by which to travel. Tiki’s heart had soared when Rieker had met her at the zagishire leading a great white mare with red ribbons and brass bells threaded through her mane. When the horse moved, a musical jingle filled the air.

“I asked Larkin several days ago about a horse if I wanted to ride,” Rieker said as he approached, “and she told me to take this one.”

“Aeveen?” Tiki reached out to rub the beast’s velvety nose. A sudden rush of tears burned in her eyes and she buried her face in the horse’s neck. “You’re alive.” She inhaled the fragrant scent of horse hair, torn between laughing and crying.

“You know this horse?”

“Yes, she’s Dain’s.” Tiki smiled at the beautiful horse, which stood with her ears pricked forward. “Aeveen is the horse Toots rode.” The ten year-old had been enchanted by the beautiful beast, bragging often that he’d ridden a horse that could fly. “When Dain and I escaped from Donegal and the Palace of Mirrors, we went through the Wychwood. Dain led me out of the forest through the fields by O’Donoghue’s farm and Aeveen was there with several other horses. He whistled for her and she ran so fast, she looked like she was flying. That’s how we returned to London.” Tiki stroked the horse’s elegant neck. “I was so afraid she’d died when Donegal slaughtered those horses from the Seelie Court.”

“Obviously not. Apparently, Larkin has been having her cared for while—” Rieker hesitated— “Dain’s away.” He stroked Aeveen’s mane. “We’ll need to take these bells off but she should be able to get us to where we need to go.”

After they’d removed the bells, which Tiki tucked in a pocket, Rieker pulled her up behind him. She was careful not to bump the variety of weapons that Rieker had hung from the leather saddle, including a sabre, a dagger, a coiled whip and even a broadsword.

“Are you holding on?” Rieker asked over his shoulder.

Tiki slid her arms around his trim waist. “Ready.”

THOUGH THE SUN was a brilliant orb in the blue sky, only filtered light breeched the dense canopy of the magical wood, casting strange shadows that moved with the wind. Tiki had the uneasy sense they were surrounded by half-seen creatures. She remembered the spriggans, kelpies and dryads they’d encountered the last time she’d gone through the Wychwood and watched their surroundings with a wary eye.

“I don’t know how far the northern border might be,” she said, “but that’s where both Dain and Larkin said the Redcaps live.” She had dressed as Rieker had, to blend with the forest in bark-colored trousers and a dappled green jacket that melted into the shadows. Her hair was braided and tucked inside her coat, much like she’d worn it when picking pockets in London. Knowing she would need all her senses to protect them here, she’d shed the glamour she’d grown up knowing, feeling less encumbered and stronger without it.

Tiki adjusted her grip on the thin branch she’d brought from her bedchamber in Grosvenor Square. It was the stake of Ash that Dain had carved for her when they’d traveled through the Wychwood before. A painful twinge tweaked her heart as she imagined Dain’s face. She could remember his words clearly:
“A stake of Ash—for the liche. There’s no telling where he is now. He could be in London or he could be in the Otherworld. You’ve attracted Donegal’s attention. We don’t know how much control the UnSeelie king has over the liche, or who the next target might be, but you’ve got to be prepared to defend yourself. I don’t know how to burn someone on a branch of Ash, so aim for the heart if you have to use it.”

“There appears to be a path here,” Rieker pointed, pulling Tiki from her reverie, “and it heads north.”

THE MILES FLEW by as Aeveen galloped effortlessly through the wood. Bushes rustled as animals made their way along unseen paths. Birds chirped, hopping from branch to branch, cocking their heads to watch as Tiki and Rieker passed, but no one tried to stop them. Occasional hammering could be heard, but the cobblers remained well hidden. The trees grew closer together and the shadows thicker as they continued north. Rieker alternately urged Aeveen into a canter, then slowed her to a walk, dependent upon how straight the path was.

“Where do you suppose the
liche
is now?” Tiki asked, swatting at some low-hanging branches with the thin stake.

“Donegal must have some way of forcing him to follow orders,” Rieker replied, lifting a branch as they rode under. “If we can eliminate the
liche,
we eliminate part of Donegal’s power. It’s just figuring out how to stop him.”

Tiki held up her thin, pointed stick. “That’s why Dain carved this for me.” She swatted at another branch. “We’re supposed to burn the liche’s body on a stake of Ash, but I don’t know how you burn a body on something this size. Seems like you’d have to stab them instead.”

“It is curious,” Rieker agreed. “I wonder how Donegal raised the
liche
in the first place. I heard the dark magic he used required him to give over something of his own body. Do you think it was blood?”

“I don’t know, but we have to do something. The idea that Donegal might feed Dain’s heart to that horrible creature…” Tiki shuddered. “It’s unthinkable.”

DAY TURNED INTO night as they wound their way through the forest. Many of the creatures who inhabited the wood during the dark months while the UnSeelies ruled had moved closer to the Plain of Starlight at Beltane, when control in Faerie had shifted to the Summer Court. The Jack-in-Irons, with severed heads of their victims tied round their waist, had lumbered to the east, along with the Kelpies, ridden by the river hags—though the púcas, those wicked-minded black, shaggy colts with the golden eyes who could entice riders onto their backs to be taken for a wild ride, still wandered the forest in small packs.

The creatures who supported the Summer Queen could be as intimidating as the monsters of the UnSeelie Court, but they were often more benign to look upon. Once, Tiki thought she saw a leprechaun, merrily working on a single shoe beneath a hedgerow. As dusk began to descend the bushes rattled with unseen bodies and Tiki was taut with nerves.

“Dain knew of an abandoned stonecutter’s cottage where we stayed one night.” She shivered and scanned the area before them. “Do you suppose there might be another?”