Sirensong (16 page)

I looked back over my shoulder as the line of Knights parted to let us through. Arawn gave me a jaunty wave, then turned his horse and led his Hunt back down the road away from us. I had no doubt he’d be staying close on our tail, even if he was pretending to go away.

The Knights finally relaxed, and the rest of the prince’s people lost interest as the Wild Hunt rode away. Except for the prince, that is. Surrounded by his Knights—not a mark on him and not a hair out of place—he stormed in our direction with murder in his eyes. This didn’t look good.

Dad put his arm around my shoulder and made a little shooing motion at my friends. “I suggest you retreat,” he said. “This may get unpleasant.”

Ethan drew himself up, all offended dignity. “I’m not the type to run away from trouble.”

Keane and Kimber both took up similarly stubborn stances. Maybe they all thought they could help protect me, but if the prince had his panties in a twist, I didn’t think it fair for my friends to be caught in the middle.

“Just give us a little space, guys,” I begged them. “I’ll be fine.”

I think they were planning to argue some more, but Finn put one hand on each guy’s shoulder and started pulling them out of the way. Keane tried to break his father’s hold, to no avail, and Ethan didn’t even bother to try. With an apologetic shrug, Kimber hurried after them.

Just in time, too, because Henry was practically on top of us. Everyone else had scattered at the sight of Henry’s fury. I didn’t know what he was so pissed off about, seeing as he was the one who’d led us into an ambush. An ambush I couldn’t help suspecting he had something to do with.

“What is the meaning of bringing the Wild Hunt here?” he spat, and I didn’t know if he was talking to me or my dad.

My dad decided Henry was talking to him and answered. “I didn’t bring them here. I’m sure they were just following, and Dana happened into them when
her horse carried her away
.” There was a sharp edge to those words, and I wondered if Dad suspected that someone had cast a compulsion spell on Phaedra, as the Erlking believed.

Henry chose to ignore the implications, instead curling his lip as he looked at me. “Interesting company you keep. Unseelie friends and the Wild Hunt at your beck and call. Perhaps my mother made a mistake by inviting you into our lands.”

Probably the smart thing to do would have been to keep my mouth shut and let my dad handle the obnoxious jerk of a prince. But keeping my mouth shut isn’t my way.

“At least
I
didn’t lead us into an ambush,” I countered. “And it was nice of you to make sure all your Knights were gathered around you while the rest of us were under attack.”

Beside me, Dad made a little choking sound. I couldn’t tell if it was smothered laughter or alarm. I did know that the prince was not amused. He glared at me as if he hated me more than anyone in the world.

“Perhaps we would not have been ambushed if you hadn’t insisted on bringing your Unseelie companions!” he snapped.

It was my turn to sputter with outrage. “You seriously mean to tell me you think Ethan and Kimber arranged for us to be attacked?”

The outrage lost a little of its steam when I remembered Ethan arranging for me to be attacked by a Spriggan, back when I’d first come to Avalon. Well, actually, it was Ethan’s dad who arranged the attack, but Ethan was in on it. He was supposed to save me from the Spriggan so he could be my hero and I would fall madly in love with him. Things had gone horribly wrong, because of course things always do when I’m around, but I’d long ago forgiven Ethan. And I was sure he had nothing to do with the Bogles.

Henry made a sour face. “They are no friends of the Seelie Court, and—”

“Really, Henry,” my father interrupted. “They live in Avalon, and their father preaches that citizens of Avalon should not align themselves with a Court. Look first to your own people before you accuse mine.”

“You dare!” Henry spat, as if he’d never heard anything so outrageous in his life. His cheeks were growing red with anger. My dad hadn’t been exaggerating when he said he was good at rousing Henry’s temper.

I noticed a couple of Henry’s Knights edging closer, watching my father and me with suspicious eyes, like they thought we were about to attack their prince. But my dad’s voice remained calm and level as Henry’s grew more shrill. If anyone was going to attack, it would be Henry.

“My daughter is supposed to be under your protection,” my dad said. “And yet an attempt was made on her life right under your nose. The Bogles did not venture so far into Seelie territory without some interference, nor would my daughter’s horse have run off with her like that. The obvious conclusion is that someone in your party arranged it.”

Henry clearly didn’t know how to quit when he was behind. “Perhaps it is you yourself who arranged the attack,” he said. His face was now almost purple with rage, and his voice had gone up about an octave. “As a way to discredit me!”

My dad gave that suggestion exactly the respect it deserved: he laughed.

The argument had drawn a fair amount of attention, and more than one of the observers snickered. I doubted even Henry believed what he was saying, but he clearly didn’t like being laughed at. There was a young, redheaded servant girl—I’d guess her age at somewhere around fourteen—standing respectfully to the side awaiting his attention. To my horror, Henry turned to her and slapped her so hard one of the Knights had to catch her to keep her from falling.

“How dare you laugh?” he shouted, though she hadn’t been one of the ones who’d snickered. Those people got the message, though, ducking their heads and slinking away.

“Tell me, Henry,” my dad said, “do you make a habit of bullying children, or do you only do it when your temper is piqued?” If he was particularly upset that Henry had just clobbered an innocent bystander because of his needling, you couldn’t tell it by looking at him. I, on the other hand, wanted to demonstrate some of the most deadly kicks and punches Keane had taught me, and I had no doubt that thought was clear on my face. I wouldn’t actually have
done
it—I swear, I’m not a moron—but my dad put a restraining hand on my shoulder just the same.

Belatedly, Henry seemed to realize he was making a total fool of himself. I could see him visibly battling his temper, trying to resist the urge to respond to my dad’s latest taunt. He managed it, but not by much.

“Your daughter may ride in one of the servants’ wagons,” he said, still spitting mad. “I have no spare horse to give her now that she’s lost her mount.”

I had no doubt being relegated to the servants’ wagon was meant to be an insult, but if it got me out of any more horseback riding, I was all for it. I didn’t much appreciate Henry’s implication that I was to blame for losing Phaedra, but I kept my mouth shut. I wondered if my dad was going to argue about me riding in a wagon, but he seemed satisfied that he’d come out on top and didn’t object.

Henry turned sharply away, stomping off. “Elizabeth!” he bellowed over his shoulder, and the poor redheaded girl went scurrying after him, her head held low.

“Shouldn’t we be turning around and heading back to Avalon?” I asked my dad as we both watched Henry’s indignant retreat. “I’m obviously not as safe here as you thought.”

He looked grim and unhappy. “Apparently not. But we can’t turn back. It would be an unpardonable insult to imply that Henry can’t protect you.”

“You’re kidding me, right? Because I’m pretty sure I’d be dead right now if it weren’t for the Erlking. Even if Henry’s people weren’t behind it, they didn’t lift a finger to help me. I think it’s fair to say he can’t—or
won’t
—protect me.”

“Maybe so, but if we offer him an insult of that magnitude—no matter how well-deserved—he could use it as an excuse to revoke our safe passage.” Dad swept his gaze pointedly around the caravan, with its Knights and magic users. “We are not among friends, and without the protection of safe passage…”

I suppressed a groan of frustration, but I got the point. I had a good idea what Henry and his people would do if they were no longer under any obligation to play nice, and I did not want to find out firsthand I was right.

When we were finally ready to depart again, one of Henry’s servants directed me to my assigned wagon. It was more comfortable than riding horseback, but not by much. The only seats were hard wooden benches. As if that weren’t uncomfortable enough, two of the baggage wagons had been beyond repair, and their cargo was stuffed under the benches so there was only one seat where you could actually put your feet on the floor. The servants put me in that seat, but I couldn’t help feeling guilty when I saw the rest of them contorting themselves to find a place to put their feet. The women, who had to deal with the ridiculous bustles right over their butts, had an especially hard time of it. I wondered if all the crap in those crates was strictly necessary, but I knew better than to think Henry might leave something behind for the comfort of mere servants.

I don’t know if it was a result of post-traumatic shock, or if Henry’s servants were so beaten down they’d lost all desire to be sociable, but try as I might, I couldn’t get anyone in that wagon to speak to me in more than monosyllables for the entire afternoon. They all rode with their heads bowed, not looking right or left, not talking to each other any more than they talked to me. I thought surely I could strike up a conversation with the redheaded girl, Elizabeth, since I guessed she was near my own age, but she was even quieter than the rest. Her eyes went wide with what looked like fear every time I tried to strike up a conversation. I felt so sorry for her I wanted to go over and give her a hug, but of course, I didn’t. I was sure she wouldn’t have appreciated it.

I expected Henry to commandeer someone’s house for the night as he had yesterday, but apparently he had other plans. Maybe we were too far out in the boonies to find a convenient host.

Whatever the reason, our caravan came to a halt in the middle of what seemed to me a nondescript patch of road. The servants in my wagon practically stampeded in their hurry to get to work as soon as we came to a halt. Magic pulsed in the air, and the surrounding forest began shifting in a way that I didn’t think I’d ever get used to.

I assumed everything was going to move out of the way and make a big clearing like the trees had at yesterday’s rest stop, but that didn’t seem to be what was happening. As far as I could tell, the trees were scurrying about as haphazardly as the servants. I jumped down from the wagon and tried to stay out of the way so I wouldn’t be trampled.

After a couple of minutes, I realized with a start that the trees and bushes were forming themselves into a multitude of enclosures, like they were the giant, living walls of a cubicle farm. The tallest of the trees bent over each of the enclosures, forming roofs.

“Cool,” I murmured, forgetting for a moment to be weirded out.

I wandered through the crowd until I found my dad and my friends. Servants were unloading wagons, carrying luggage and crates into the enclosures. Others were tending to the horses, while still others were setting up what looked like an open-air kitchen.

“If Henry can manage all this,” I said to my dad, “why did he have to invite himself and the rest of us to stay over at someone’s house last night?”

“I’m sure you can guess the answer to that,” he responded drily, and he was right. Commandeering someone’s house like that had been a power play, something Henry did just to show that he could. What a jerk! And because the Fae were completely fixated on their archaic class structure, they just had to take it.

Eventually, a servant came for us and led us to a cluster of tree-lined enclosures, informing us that once again, Kimber and I, and Ethan and Keane would be sharing “rooms.” I doubt Henry’s people planned it that way, but Finn decided to join Ethan and Keane, which seemed positively forward of him. I immediately suspected he was worried about what kind of trouble the two of them might get into if left unsupervised.

When Kimber and I entered our “room,” it was to find our luggage already delivered, suitcases stacked neatly in the corner. There were two feather mattresses on simple wooden frames, and there was a wooden folding table, complete with a basket of fruit, a pitcher of some dark liquid I suspected was wine, and a couple of silver goblets. Considering we were basically camping in the forest, this looked suspiciously like the Ritz. Not that I was complaining, mind you. My body was just as sore after hours in the wagon as it was after hours on horseback, and, to tell the truth, I was still seriously shaken up by the Bogle attack. I collapsed onto the bed, heedless of the fact that I stank of horse with a hint of dead Bogle. Kimber stood in the doorway for a moment, then said, “Be back in a few,” before slipping out.

“Where are you—” I started to ask, but she was already gone. I was too tired to get up and see what she was up to. Instead, I closed my eyes and tried hard not to think.

I had almost fallen asleep when I heard the sound of footsteps approaching. I cracked my eyes open and saw that Kimber had returned, carrying two ceramic mugs and an earthenware pitcher from which wisps of steam rose. I sniffed the air as I propped myself up on my elbows and caught a whiff of a familiar scent.

“Hot posset?” I asked, my mouth automatically watering. I’d never even heard of hot posset before I came to Avalon, and now it was nearing chocolate at the top of my list of best comfort foods ever.

Kimber looked very proud of herself as she filled both mugs to the brim. “I figured we could use it after everything that happened today.”

I forgot my exhaustion as I wrapped my hands around the mug Kimber handed me. “Where did you get hot posset?”

“From the kitchen,” she answered simply.

Ask a stupid question …

I sniffed at my mug before taking a sip, and the smell of whiskey practically made my eyes water. “Geez, Kimber, how much booze is in this?” She knew I wasn’t a big fan of alcohol, so she usually used only a touch of whiskey for flavor when making hot posset for me. Except when she took it upon herself to prescribe “extra-strength,” that is.