The Seven Year King (The Faerie Ring #3) (27 page)

“They’ll be back, eventually,” the goblin said slowly. “To torture him again, no doubt. It’s whispered that they’ve put the mask on him.” The hobgoblin slung the empty crock over his shoulder and threaded an arrow through the bow he now held.

“What mask?”

“The mask of the Seven Year King.” His small eyes looked sad. “If they have, he’s doomed. The mask can’t be removed until he’s been sacrificed.”

“No,” Tiki cried.

Rieker ran a hand through his hair, frustration evident in the frown that twisted his features. “Unless we can figure out how to get him out of this prison and away from Donegal.”

The hobgoblin measured Rieker. “You’re braver than most to even think to try. They say that prisoners in the White Tower are held there by the Winter King’s magic. No one can release him but Donegal, himself.”

Tiki spoke up. “Larkin was a prisoner here last winter. She escaped.”

The hobgoblin’s expression shifted. “She’s the only one.” He gave a slow nod. “It was a terrible time here in the Wood. Donegal’s anger at her departure destroyed part of the forest—burned it to the ground. Much of it was the land where we grew our crops.” He took a step back. “I don’t know how Larkin escaped, but she is well known in both Courts. Only the most powerful faeries in our world can conjure the kind of magic that would compete with that of a king’s.” The goblin edged further back into the trees. “I shouldn’t linger.”

“Before you leave, can you tell us the name you go by?” Tiki asked.

“You can call me Gestle, Majesty.”

“We won’t forget your help, Gestle—or your need. We will work together to build a better life for all here in the Wychwood.”

“Your words are the first spark of hope we’ve had in a long time. I will keep them close to my heart and share them with my brethren.” The goblin bowed and in a blink disappeared into the forest.

THE HOURS CREPT by as Tiki and Rieker struggled to find a way into the tower. All the while, her guilt at losing her temper with Larkin built, like a cough in her chest, until she feared it might choke her. Why had she become so furious with the faerie at a time when they needed her most? But even as Tiki worried, part of her knew exactly why she’d taken the action she had. Someone had to protect Clara and her family from Larkin’s manipulations. And somewhere in the back of her mind, a voice spoke in the quietest of whispers that someone had to care for the world of Faerie. For the sake of Dain’s rescue should she apologize to the faerie upon their return? The idea made Tiki’s stomach roil, yet, if she could help save Rieker’s brother…

DARKNESS FELL AND they were no further in their search for an entrance to the tower than when they’d arrived. The air had cooled and Tiki shivered as Rieker walked up to her, having walked the perimeter, yet again.

“I don’t know what to do, Teek,” he said. He propped his hands on his hips and exhaled, his head tipped back to stare up at the sky, turning dark with the onset of night. “I don’t know how to get in.” Bushes rustled nearby as some creature made its way through the wood.

Tiki hesitated to speak. She felt the same frustration as Rieker, to be so close, yet unable to reach Dain—to help him—it was enough to make her pull her hair in frustration. Yet, every minute they stayed, exposed in the open as they were, in the vicinity of Donegal’s secret prison, they put themselves at greater risk—especially at night.

“Do you think we should come back another day—now that we know where he is? It’s still months until Samhain. There would be no reason for Donegal to move him before the end of October.”

Rieker closed his eyes and hung his head. “Yes, that makes sense, but my gut tells me we don’t have that much time.”

“I know.” Tiki stepped closer and rubbed Rieker’s arm. “It’s so frustrating not to be able to reach him. But at least we know he’s alive. We know where he is, and maybe most important—he knows we’re close and trying to help him.”

SCOUTS MET THEM halfway back to the Palace. Four of the Macanna surrounded Aeveen to escort them back while one returned at a faster pace to inform Callan that Tiki had been found.

“Majesty.” Callan swept a brown felt hat with a single feather from his head as he bowed low to Tiki as she and Rieker climbed the back steps into the Palace. “We have been looking everywhere for your Highness.”

“Thank you, Callan,” Tiki said, wishing there was some way she could dismiss the man from feeling the need to protect her all the time. “I’m fine, as you can see. No need to worry.

Besides—” Tiki spoke over her shoulder as she walked past him and entered the Palace— “I thought you were keeping track of Larkin now.”

Callan straightened, his hat gripped with both hands. “Yes, Majesty, about that…”

Tiki stopped. “What about that?”

The man straightened his muscled shoulders and raised his chin. “I am bound to protect
you
, Majesty, so I delegated the responsibility to several of my men to…
observe
—” he said the word delicately— “Lady Larkin, as you’ve asked. However…” a red flush crept up his neck and burned his cheeks, “she has disappeared.”

“IT WAS STUPID of me to ask the Macanna to guard Larkin,” Tiki snapped, as she paced back and forth in one of an opulent set of rooms that were marked as the queen’s chambers. Tall, multibranched candelabras lined the walls, each holding a multitude of thick white candles that shivered with flame, like some kind of fiery trees. Their light reflected off the walls encrusted with gold-filigree, making the room seem to shimmer with magic.

“They’ve been following her for years—why did I think they’d change their allegiance just because I asked?” Tiki crossed her arms and paced the other direction, the train of her royal blue gown
shushing
quietly behind her. “Daft, daft, daft. Where do you think she’s gone?”

Rieker sat in a beautifully carved chair, the seat and back covered in a rich brocade of greens and browns, shot through with glittering threads of gold. He leaned back, his head propped against his hand as he watched Tiki pace, his gaze distant.

“It’s impossible to say, Teek, and useless for us to try. All I know is that it’s up to us to save Dain.”

Chapter Thirty-Seven

O
ver the ensuing weeks, Tiki and Rieker went back and forth between the Otherworld and London, trying to juggle all things. They returned to the White Tower on numerous occasions without being able to find a way in. They called out the raven signal each time, to let Dain know they were trying, and a shadowed face would appear behind the bars at the very top of the cylindrical tower. But they could hear no sound, and there were times when Tiki felt like they were trying to free a ghost.

Larkin’s whereabouts remained elusive, though, thankfully, Clara and the others had not seen her in London. If the Macanna knew of the faerie’s whereabouts, they didn’t reveal her secrets.

Tiki requested that the kitchens set out tables of food for the faeries in need on a regular basis, even if they only had table scraps to share. “Something is better than nothing.”

As July came to a close, Tiki celebrated her seventeenth birthday in London. She and Rieker, Clara, Toots, Fiona and Shamus all went to Hyde Park, as the weather was sunny and warm. Mrs. Bosworth packed a picnic lunch for them and they splashed in the water and sailed miniature boats on the Serpentine. Clara and Fiona made daisy-chain crowns and decided Tiki could be queen, but as much as she wanted to forget about the Otherworld, the flower crown just reminded her of the troubles there. Dain was constantly on her mind, as was Gestle, Ailléna, the homeless faeries, Larkin, Donegal and the
liche
. Torn between two worlds, there didn’t seem to be peace in either of them for her now.

SUMMER FADED TO Fall and Fiona slowly came back to life, though the sparkle was gone from her eyes and she lacked the enthusiasm she used to have. The sense of urgency to free Dain reached a fever pitch as frost began to breathe its icy breath over both worlds. Time was running out.

“THERE HAVE BEEN more sightings of Donegal’s troops gathering,” Rieker said one morning as Tiki returned from a meeting with the lords and ladies in the High Chamber. He’d been waiting outside the door for her to exit and walked beside her down the corridor to the Great Hall. “We’ve got to do
something
soon or Dain won’t survive.”

“I know.” Tiki slid her hands into the fur muff that was stitched onto the front of her dress. The air had turned unseasonably cool and the lofty hallways and grand rooms of the Palace were chilly. Or perhaps the chill came from the fear that seemed to constantly ride her shoulders as each day brought her closer to the time when the Winter King would attack in his pursuit to gain control of Faerie. “The Court doesn’t think Donegal will attack until Samhain has passed but I agree with you, he won’t do what we expect of him. Plus—” she lowered her voice— “he knows I’m inexperienced. I’m sure he’ll use that to his advantage.”

They entered the Great Hall and the Jester greeted them with his usual fanfare, bowing low to both of them before striking a pose, forcing them to stop. He was one of the few who acknowledged Rieker’s existence.

With a dramatic flair, the Court Jester breathed flame into his cupped hands, only to rub them together and release a snow-white dove, which flapped up to the highest reaches of the arched ceiling and disappeared.

“Have you heard the news, Majesty?” The Jester pranced by Tiki’s side.

Tiki only half-listened as she walked up the steps to her throne. She rarely sat on the Dragon Throne, preferring instead to mingle, but today she was tired. They’d visited the White Tower yet again and the ride back had been long and exhausting. A cough had started in her chest and she had a terrible headache. What she really wanted was to be left alone, or, better yet—go home to London and read a story with Clara, Toots and Fiona. But she rarely got what she wanted anymore.

“Where is the second chair I requested?” she asked the guards who stood at attention. Days ago she’d asked that a chair be positioned next to her throne for Rieker to sit in, but her request continued to be ignored.

“Teek, it doesn’t matter,” Rieker said in a low voice, positioning himself next to her right arm. “Let it go.”

The Jester leaned close. “The Lady Larkin has returned to Court,” he whispered. “They say she has news of Donegal’s army.” He skipped away before Tiki could question him further and in a blink he was at the other end of the Great Hall.

She turned to Rieker. “Did you know Larkin had returned?”

“No,” Rieker said, “but we both knew she wouldn’t be able to stay gone for long. I wonder if she learned anything of Dain.”

In the distance, the notes of the Jester’s flute floated on the air. The familiar melody reminded Tiki of the words he had spouted some months ago.
‘Falsehood wears a mask that is concealed but from those who seek the hidden way.’
Though she’d mulled the words over many times, she’d never been able to discern if they were wit or wisdom. Could there be meaning hidden within his mutterings?

Tiki repeated his words in her head. A mask—Gestle had said that Dain had been forced to wear a mask—

“Falsehood,” Tiki murmured. Dain had been spying in the UnSeelie Court as Sean when he was caught—was that the falsehood the Fool had meant?

“What did you say?” Rieker asked, leaning closer.

Across the room, the Jester looked at Tiki over his shoulder. She could hear his voice as clearly as if he had whispered in her ear: ‘
Fear not the water…’
He gave her a cocky salute then started to dance an Irish jig. She jumped to her feet and grabbed Rieker’s arm.

“Come with me.”

She hurried out of the Great Hall as fast as she could without causing a scene, down the corridor and out the side door that Dain had revealed to her.

“Tiki—what’s going on?” Rieker looked at her as if she’d lost her mind.

She pulled him through the gardens to a rocky outcropping at the very edge of the Tor so no one could possibly overhear their conversation. “I know how to get to Dain.”

“You do?” He put his hand on her forehead. “How did you suddenly arrive at this miraculous answer?”

Tiki slapped his hand away. “I don’t have a fever. It was the Jester, of course. He gave me a clue months ago. There’s a secret passageway into the Tower.”

Rieker’s expression shifted to a thoughtful frown. “Where might the entrance to this secret passageway lie?”