Sirensong (29 page)

“We’re surrendering,” Ethan yelled back. “Don’t shoot.”

Hands up, Ethan stepped slowly out of the hollow, Keane and Kimber close behind.

Maybe I should have just run away after that. After all, it wasn’t like I could do much of anything to help my friends all by myself, unless I were willing to unleash my mortality spell on a bunch of Knights who were just following orders. And who had every reason to believe we’d been behind the bombing. I didn’t believe the Knights would be able to sense me behind the Erlking’s magic, so all I had to do was hide until nightfall and then travel through the standing stones right under their noses.

Maybe if I ran back to Avalon, I’d be able to get help for my dad and my friends. And at least I’d be safe myself, as long as I got out of Avalon before the Erlking found me. Ethan and Kimber’s dad was as powerful and influential as my own, and he’d do everything in his considerable power to get them safely home.

But who would fight for Finn and Keane? And would my dad’s political rivals try to make sure he never returned to Avalon? The only person who cared about my dad and all my friends equally, who would fight for them all, was me. Which meant I couldn’t run to Avalon and hope someone else could and would save them for me.

My mind churning desperately, trying to come up with an idea that didn’t suck, I watched as the Knights bound my friends’ hands behind their backs and bullied them through the trees. I followed, unseen and unheard.

When I broke through the trees, I saw a narrow dirt road, much smaller than the main one. The handful of Knights who had rounded up my friends was only a portion of this search party, which consisted of about a dozen people, some Knights, some not. The air around them buzzed with magic, raising all the fine hairs on my arms and the back of my neck.

A cold-faced Sidhe woman questioned Keane, trying to find out where I was. She completely ignored Ethan and Kimber, but I supposed that was a result of the rivalry between the Seelie and Unseelie Courts. She no doubt thought Keane, as a member of her own Court, was more trustworthy.

Keane told her about Ethan’s attempt to capture me for the Erlking—which earned him a look of shock from Kimber, and scorn from Ethan. Ignoring their outrage, Keane went on to explain that I’d run off after Ethan’s attack, terrified that he was still tied to the Erlking and would try again.

I thought it was a pretty good story. Plausible, at least to someone who didn’t know me. And if the woman believed him, she’d send at least some of her men on a wild goose chase.

I couldn’t tell by her face whether she was buying Keane’s story, but she didn’t seem inclined to do a full-out interrogation, at least not in the middle of the road. She picked out five of her men and ordered them to carry my friends back to the Sunne Palace, where I had no doubt they would be deposited in some nasty dungeon-type place. Then she directed the rest of her men to continue searching for me.

Once again, I was helpless as my friends were hoisted up onto the backs of horses and then tied to the saddles. The rest of the search party fanned out into the woods again, one man staying behind to guard the remaining horses, while my friends and their captors took off down the road at a gallop.

I thought about trying to steal a horse, but gave up on that idea immediately. How could I get the horse to do what I wanted if it could neither see, feel, nor hear me? And even if I could, being invisible wouldn’t do me much good if I was riding a horse down the road. Maybe no one would be able to see me, but they would know
something
was wrong with that picture.

Instead, I checked my watch to remind myself how much longer the spell would be working, then forced my weary legs into a pathetic imitation of a jog, following the road toward the Sunne Palace. What I was going to do when and if I actually got there was anyone’s guess.

I don’t know how I kept putting one foot in front of the other. My entire body ached with fatigue, and if I stood still for a rest, I found myself swaying on my feet, my head swimming. Not trusting myself to think straight, I set the alarm on my watch to go off three minutes before the brooch’s spell would expire and forced myself to keep going. When the alarm went off, scaring the crap out of me because I’d been in such a daze I was practically delirious, I poked myself with the brooch again and kept going down the road. I couldn’t manage a jog, or even a brisk walk, so I settled for a slow and steady plod. I had a nasty moment when the narrow road I was on met with the main road, but I was pretty sure I’d chosen the right direction.

There was plenty of traffic on the road, mostly people riding horses, but a few driving wagons and some pedestrians as well. Most were heading the same way I was, reinforcing my assumption that I’d turn the right direction. No one saw me, and I silently thanked the Erlking for giving me the brooch, even though he was the enemy. I was even able to snatch some food and water from one of the passersby without anyone noticing me.

I stuffed my face as I kept walking, trying not to eat or drink too fast. A hunk of bread and an apple had never tasted so good, even though the apple had peach-colored flesh and tasted more like some kind of melon. As long as it was edible, I didn’t care, and as my body began to process the food and rehydrate, my brain started working better, too.

The Erlking’s brooch was one hell of a secret weapon. I’d been able to steal the food right out from under a Fae’s nose, and he’d had no idea I was there, even when I accidentally brushed against him.

If I had come to the Sunne Palace for the sole purpose of assassinating Princess Elaine—God only knows what my motive was supposed to be—then I sure as hell could have done it without having to resort to using a bomb. I could have just used the Erlking’s brooch to make me invisible, followed the princess around until I was sure she was alone, and then killed her with a Fae weapon. If I’d done that, there would have been no evidence pointing to me as the culprit, and no one would have had any reason to suspect me. What kind of moron would I have be to use a bomb, something that—at least in theory—only
I
could have been responsible for?

I stumbled to a stop as I tried to find flaws in my argument. But no matter how I sliced it, as long as I had the Erlking’s brooch, there were about a million easier ways for me to assassinate someone than to set a freaking bomb. And that, I realized, was my defense.

The realization gave me a taste of hope, and that hope gave me a rush of energy. My pace picked up, and my body felt less achy and awful. Maybe it was possible for me to prove my innocence. Based on my dad’s reaction on the night of the bombing, I didn’t think I would get anything like a fair trial if I turned myself in, and without a fair trial, I might never be able to present my side of the argument. But thanks to the brooch, I could march right through the doors of the palace and grant myself an audience with the Queen. And thanks to the gun my dad had given me, I could be sure she’d listen—and see how much more easily I could have killed Elaine if I actually wanted to.

The plan felt almost surreal, like something out of a cheesy action movie. Who was I, a sixteen-year-old half-blood girl, to storm the Faerie Queen’s palace and threaten her with a gun? But if I didn’t prove my innocence, my father and my friends might very well die. If the Queen hadn’t killed my father already, but I tried to shut that thought out.

Crazy as my plan sounded, I had to try it. Besides, it sounded better than my previous plan, which was to somehow use the brooch to help free my father and my friends, and then somehow get us the hell out of Dodge. I wasn’t any closer to figuring out either of those “somehows” now than I had been when I’d first turned back toward the palace. So Plan B it was.

For a while, knowing I had a plan gave me a burst of energy, but it could only last so long. I stole food and water a second time, but even after I’d eaten my fill, my legs were quivering with exhaustion, and I realized that if I didn’t stop and rest, I was going to run myself into the ground. Reluctantly, I left the road and slipped back into the woods, looking for a place where I could hide while I rested.

I was too tired to be picky, and I ended up curled up between a couple of gnarled tree roots way too close to the road for comfort. I considered letting my watch keep waking me up every twenty-seven minutes so I could stay invisible, but I decided I needed the rest too desperately. Holding the gun in my hand and using my backpack for a pillow, I closed my eyes and was instantly sucked down into sleep.

When I awoke, it was pitch-dark out. My body yearned for more sleep, and it took a massive effort of will to force my eyes open and push myself into a sitting position. I didn’t seem to have moved a muscle the whole time I was asleep, and I was so stiff and sore I felt like my bones would break if I moved too fast.

A glance at my watch told me it was ten o’clock at night. I’d slept almost seven hours! And I desperately wanted to sleep for about seven more, but I didn’t know how much time my friends had. The sooner I reached the palace and proved my innocence, the sooner they could be set free, and the less chance they’d get hurt.

I picked my way carefully through the darkened woods. We’d been on the run for about forty-eight hours before the search party had caught us, but we’d been fighting our way through the woods, and I was sure I’d make faster progress on the road. I guesstimated that I’d make it to the Sunne Palace sometime tomorrow afternoon, if I kept pushing myself relentlessly.

I pricked myself with the brooch as soon as I caught sight of the road, then resumed my slow, plodding pace of this afternoon. I hoped it was a pace I could keep up indefinitely. I wanted to make it to the palace before I had to stop to rest again, because my gut told me I was running out of time.

I walked in a trancelike daze until my watch reminded me it was time to prick myself again. I was beginning to feel like a pincushion, and was heartily sick of poking myself with the damn pin.

I’d been staring blindly at my feet as I walked, but when I stopped to fish the brooch out of my pocket, I raised my head. And froze with the tips of my fingers just touching the edge of the brooch.

In my daze, I hadn’t even noticed when I’d left the wild forest behind and crossed into the almost-town near the palace. I must have passed by the side road leading to the standing stones without even seeing it. For all our seemingly endless wandering, and for all the help the Green Lady had given us, apparently we’d gotten less than a day’s easy travel from the palace. Probably the only reason we hadn’t been caught sooner was that the searchers thought we would be more competent and be farther away.

I shook off my chagrin and once more poked myself with the pin. Maybe it was a bit embarrassing to see how sucky a job we’d done at running away, but it certainly wasn’t a bad thing that I’d be able to reach the palace tonight instead of tomorrow. I wanted this whole hellish ordeal over with.

A little more than an hour later, I was walking through the gates of the palace, the hairs on the back of my neck lifting as I passed between a pair of grim-looking sentries. All well and good to say I wanted this over with, but I was scared to death of what would happen when I confronted the Queen. I found my argument about why I couldn’t be the mad bomber very convincing, but how could I know if
she
would find it convincing? Especially when it was her own son who was really responsible. I wondered if maybe I should leave that part out. What I had to do was prove I wasn’t to blame, not point the finger at the guilty party. I sure as hell didn’t want Henry to get away with it, but if that was the best way to get my friends and my father released, then that was what I’d do.

It didn’t help that the palace looked like the Bastille, the Tower of London, and Alcatraz all rolled into one from the outside. I’d thought the place looked intimidating when I was coming as a guest, but it was about three times worse now.

Ready to do whatever it took, I snuck into the palace and began searching for the Queen.

There was one problem with my grand plan. Well, more than one, really, but one that slapped me upside the head within about ten minutes of beginning my search.

I had never met Titania, and I had no idea what she looked like, except that she probably bore some resemblance to both Henry and Elaine. That wasn’t a whole lot to go on, and there were tons of people in the palace. Some of them were obviously Knights and servants, but there were plenty of others who could be guests or family or the Faerie Queen herself.

All of the women were ridiculously beautiful, because that came with being Fae. And all wore gowns that made them look like actresses in a costume drama. Some gowns were showier than others, and some women wore more jewels, but I didn’t spot anyone wearing a crown or carrying a scepter or doing anything else particularly queenly. My stomach did a flip-flop when it occurred to me that Titania might not even be in residence. Maybe she decided to leave the palace after the bombing, fearing for her safety.

But no, if the Queen weren’t around here somewhere, I doubted there would be so much activity in the palace, especially not at this time of night. Maybe that was another dose of wishful thinking, but I clung to it for all I was worth, because it was my only hope.

One bright spot in my nerve-racking search was that I found Princess Elaine, alive and relatively well. There was an angry red scar on her face, and a haunted expression in her eyes, but I let out a breath of relief to discover the bomb hadn’t killed her.

My relief dampened a bit when I realized that though she was in a room with about ten other glittering gems of Sidhe society, she was sitting alone on the edge of a chaise, and no one was looking at her, much less talking to her. Almost like she was as invisible as I was. I bit my lip as I approached her and looked at the scar. There must have been some pure iron in the bomb, because that was the only thing I knew of that could permanently scar a Sidhe’s skin when there was a healer available. She should have been either dead or good as new, and I suspected from her obvious misery that she’d have preferred one or the other.