Sirensong

Chapter Eleven

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.

Kimber took a sip of her posset, then gave a satisfied sigh before answering. “Just enough.”

I rolled my eyes but didn’t have the energy to protest. I blew lightly on the surface of my posset, then took an incautiously large sip. Not only did I burn my tongue, but that sip kept burning all the way down my throat and into my belly. No doubt about it, this was the extra-strength version. I drank it anyway.

The second sip burned less than the first, and the third less than that. The flavor was rich and heady—no skim milk here—and I started to relax almost in spite of myself. Until I thought about my mom, sitting at home enjoying similar beverages in much higher quantities. My heart squeezed in my chest, and the sudden sense of loss made me feel hollow inside. I’d had Sober Mom for a grand total of about four weeks, and thanks to Titania and her “invitation,” that was all gone now.

“What’s wrong?” Kimber asked, sitting on the bed across from me.

I forced a little laugh. “After everything that happened today, you have to ask?”

But Kimber was coming to know me uncomfortably well. “It’s not that,” she said, not a trace of doubt in her voice.

Kimber knew about my mom’s drinking problem—she was the only person I’d ever told—but that didn’t mean I liked to talk about it. I’d considered my mom my shameful secret for so long and was so used to covering up for her that it was always my first instinct to avoid the subject. I took another couple swallows of posset without answering, hoping Kimber would decide to change the subject. But she doesn’t give up that easy.

“I noticed some tension between you and your mom when we left yesterday,” she said.

I froze with my mug halfway to my mouth. Damn. She was much too observant—and much too understanding—for my own good. I might have thought she wouldn’t have caught the connection between the alcoholic beverage I was drinking and the alcoholic mother I’d publicly given the cold shoulder to yesterday, but no, not Kimber.

Figuring this conversation would end a lot quicker if I just gave in to the inevitable and talked, I told Kimber about my doomed-from-the-start attempt to get my mom to promise she’d stay sober. I stopped frequently for sips of posset, so my muscles felt all loose and comfortable, and my head was spinning just a bit. All signs that I’d had too much posset already. And all signs I ignored as I drained my mug.

Kimber gave me a look of sympathy, although she wasn’t giving me that pitying look some people give me when they see me with my drunken idiot of a mother. It was a look of compassion, and it was one I could accept without shame.

“Parents stink sometimes,” she said, finishing her own posset and setting the mug on the floor at her feet. “At least your mom is around, however screwed up she may be.”

I winced in sympathy. Kimber’s mom had left to live in Faerie when Kimber was twelve. I knew how much that had to hurt. “When did you see your mom last?” I asked.

She scrunched up her face. “It’s been about two years, I think. We went to see her in Faerie over a Christmas break. I guess that means it’s about two and a half years.”

“And she never comes to Avalon to visit?”

Kimber shook her head. “Not once since she left. She always seems glad to see us, and when we visit, it sometimes feels almost like the old days. Only it isn’t.” She reached for her mug, then grimaced when she saw it was empty. “It can never be like the old days again. I can never unlearn that she didn’t love me enough to stay in Avalon.”

I am not a touchy-feely person. But the bitterness and hurt in Kimber’s words inspired me to heave myself off my bed—and wow, that was harder to manage than it should have been—and sit beside her. I gave her the hug I thought she needed. She patted my back and pulled away, smiling sadly at me.

“You don’t need to comfort me,” she said. “We’re supposed to be talking about you, not me. I’m just trying to make you feel better by letting you know I understand.”

“Thanks,” I said, my veins practically buzzing with the aftereffects of my posset. That she would try to make me feel better by opening her own wounds and sharing them … humbled me. And made me feel even guiltier about all the secrets I was keeping from her. She deserved more from me than I was giving her.

Maybe it was the alcohol. Or maybe it was just that the guilt had reached critical mass and forced my hand. But at that moment, my mouth seemed to take on a life of its own, moving without any conscious thought.

“I lied to you,” I blurted. The part of me that had never truly trusted another person started screaming at me to shut up before it was too late.

Kimber blinked in surprise. I guess my confession did sort of come out of the blue. “Oh? About what?”

She’s never going to forgive you, my inner voice told me. I feared it was right. I knew I wouldn’t forgive me in her shoes. But I’d already said too much, and it was too late to back down. I opened my mouth to blurt out my secret—at least one of them, the biggest one—but I couldn’t get any sound out. Tears swam in my eyes. I was terrified I was about to lose my best friend—just like I was losing my mom to the alcohol again.

Kimber put her hand on my back. “About the ‘geis’ the Erlking put on you so you can’t talk about your agreement?” she prompted gently. I could hear the mental quotes around the word geis.

Come to think of it, when I’d first told her that a geis prevented me from telling her what I’d done, she’d been openly skeptical. But I’d been too humiliated by the agreement to tell her the truth. I was such a pathetic coward.

A tear dribbled down my cheek, and I swiped it away angrily. I’d made the decision to lie, and it was too late to cry about it now. “You never really believed me, did you?” I asked in a tear-raspy voice.

“Not for a moment,” she confirmed. Strangely, she didn’t sound angry. Maybe just because this wasn’t coming as a surprise, which I probably should have known from the beginning. Kimber was pretty sharp.

“You’re not mad?” I asked, risking a glance at her face.

“I was at first,” she admitted. “But I figured you were keeping it secret for a reason and that you’d tell me when you were ready. And you don’t have to tell me now if you’re still not ready. I’m not going anywhere.” She made a face. “Well, not anywhere you’re not going, anyway.”

I managed a hint of a smile. Then I took a deep, steadying breath and told her just what I’d had to promise the Erlking to get him to release Ethan.

Kimber didn’t interrupt my halting explanation. I sneaked glances at her face every now and then, but I couldn’t read her expression. She was certainly surprised, and horrified, but I couldn’t tell if she was pissed or not.

I told her about the day I’d gone to see the Erlking and bargain for Ethan’s freedom, and about the magic that had sealed our deal. I even told her about the kiss the Erlking had given me and how the magic had made that kiss feel good despite the fact that I knew he was a cold-blooded killer.

There was a lot I left out, some things—like the Erlking’s mark—because I didn’t want to talk about them, some things—like my magical abilities—because I shouldn’t talk about them, and one thing—the real reason the Erlking wanted me to give him my virginity—that I couldn’t talk about. I wasn’t covered by the geis that kept the members of the Seelie Court from talking about it, but the Erlking had promised me that Connor would suffer for the rest of his immortal life if I told anyone. Maybe if I told Kimber, the Erlking would never know, but I didn’t dare risk it.

“There are things I still can’t tell you,” I said to assuage my guilt. “I’m sorry.” I clasped my hands together in my lap and stared at them, wondering if all the years I’d been a loner had made me incapable of being a good friend. “And I’m sorry I lied to you about the geis. I just…” I shuddered. “The truth was too embarrassing, and I’m used to keeping embarrassing things to myself.” I swallowed hard. “Do you think you can ever forgive me?” I asked in a pathetically tentative voice.

Kimber sighed and ran a hand through her hair. “I’m not in any position to throw stones,” she said, not looking at me. “Practically every word out of my mouth when we first met was a lie, and you managed to forgive me.”

She had a point, but I couldn’t help noticing that she hadn’t actually answered my question. She’d lied to me when we’d barely known each other, when there weren’t any bonds of friendship to betray. What I’d done was entirely different, and we both knew it.

“What are you going to do?” she asked.

“There’s nothing I can do. I’m not having sex with the Erlking, and I’m not letting him take Ethan back. So…” I shrugged. “I guess I’ve taken a lifelong vow of chastity. Maybe I should join a convent or something.”

Kimber made a little snorting sound that might have been a reluctant laugh. “Don’t. You’d look lousy in black.”

I smiled and whapped her shoulder. She smiled back, though the expression didn’t reach her eyes. She was either pissed at me or hurt—or maybe both—but if she was going to pretend she wasn’t, that was fine with me. I’d had all the turmoil I could take for one day.

“Do you think the prince’s people have managed to magic up a shower somewhere?” I asked. “I feel all gross and stinky.”

“That’s because you are,” Kimber said, jumping to her feet before I could whap her upside the head. “I believe I did spot an impromptu bathhouse on my way to the kitchen. Follow me.”

I wasn’t quite as steady on my feet as I would have liked, but I managed to get upright and totter off after Kimber.

I began day three of my trip through Faerie with a headache I suspected might be a hangover. Maybe I shouldn’t have drunk the second dose of hot posset Kimber had nagged me into downing before bed. Then again, I had actually slept, which after the day’s nightmarish events was a minor miracle. I would have loved a nice, strong cup of coffee for breakfast, but the Fae don’t do coffee, so I was stuck with strong, weird-tasting tea that probably didn’t have anything resembling caffeine in it.

I was not looking forward to a full day in the servants’ wagon. So when Ethan suggested I ride double with him on his horse, I jumped at the offer.

“It’s going to be pretty uncomfortable,” Ethan warned. “These saddles aren’t meant for two.”

I waved off his concern. “It won’t be much more uncomfortable than the stupid wagon.”

As soon as I climbed on behind Ethan, I realized I was dead wrong about the comfort level. The edge of the saddle dug into my butt so hard I would probably have bruises, and since there was only one set of stirrups, my legs were dangling. Still, I was with Ethan, my body pressed up against his back, my arms around his waist. I rested my cheek against his shoulder, closing my eyes and breathing in the scent of the minty Fae soap he favored even when we were in Avalon. I hadn’t realized how much I’d begun to associate that scent with Ethan until I’d used a bar of the same stuff to wash with last night.

“Are you miserably uncomfortable?” Ethan asked as we started forward. “I can take you to the wagon if it’s too—”

“I’m fine,” I told him, despite the way the saddle dug into me in unfortunate places. I was happy to put up with the discomfort, as long as I got to spend some time with Ethan, even surrounded by an audience as we were.

We passed a few minutes in companionable silence before Ethan said, “Seeing that horse run off with you yesterday was one of the worst moments in my life.”

I tightened my arms around him, hearing the genuine pain in his voice. “I didn’t enjoy it a whole lot myself,” I said. I remembered the sick feeling in my stomach as I’d watched Ethan and Keane fighting off Bogles as Phaedra carried me helplessly away. “I felt like I was abandoning you.”

He turned to look at me over his shoulder, his face a mask of amazement. “You’ve got to be kidding! It’s not like you chose to run off. And it’s not like you could have done anything to help the rest of us. Besides, we were more than a match for a bunch of Bogles.”

It was true that no one had died, and it was also true that I hadn’t left them behind voluntarily. That didn’t make the memory any easier to bear.

“Actually, I could have helped in the fight,” I said, then told Ethan about what I’d done to the Bogles that had attacked me.

“But you would never try to cast a spell in front of witnesses, right?” he asked, and I could feel the tension in his body and hear it in his voice. He was convinced that if anyone learned about my affinity with magic, I’d be viewed as even more of a threat than I already was.

I sighed, not sure what I would have done if I’d been in the middle of the battle and found myself or one of my friends in life-threatening danger. I had a sneaking suspicion I’d have cast the spell even with witnesses around, but Ethan didn’t need to hear that.

“Of course not,” I told him. “Besides, like you said, you didn’t need my help.”

I think Ethan heard the falseness of my tone, but he didn’t challenge me on it, which was a good thing. I didn’t want to waste this precious time we had together with arguing.

I shifted in the saddle, trying to find a more comfortable position. My arms were still locked around Ethan’s waist, and I could feel him holding his breath.

“Is something wrong?” I asked.

“Nope. Not a thing,” he replied, his voice a little breathy. “But if you don’t hold still, things could get a little embarrassing.”

I froze, thinking about how my fidgeting caused me to rub against him. The moment I thought of it, I forgot all about the discomfort of the saddle, my mind focusing on the fact that my breasts were smooshed up against his back and his butt was cradled between my legs. My cheeks heated with embarrassment, even as the tingle of awareness spread throughout my body and made me want to rub up against him harder. I wondered if he was even now thinking about our venture to second base the night I’d snuck out of my safe house to see him. I knew I was, my mind conveniently editing out the strain we’d both been under at the time and the anger and desperation that had tainted the encounter.

Maybe accepting Ethan’s offer to ride double with him had been a bad idea.

“Sorry,” I said, willing myself to be still.

“No worries,” he said, his voice still strained and breathy. “This is kind of fun.” He turned to wink at me, as if he were perfectly satisfied with a little playful flirtation. As if he weren’t used to getting girls into bed, and my enforced chastity were no big deal.

Not that any of that mattered right now. Even if I were a total slut, we wouldn’t be doing anything more than flirting, in full view of dozens of people. But the tingly feeling of excitement from being close to him never failed to rouse my worries and concerns. I was desperately addicted to Ethan, and the fear of losing him could be debilitating at times, no matter how logically my rational mind explained that we had no future together.

“Maybe I should ride in the wagon after all?” I suggested tentatively.

“No way,” Ethan said with gratifying speed. “I’m not missing out on my chance to have you so close to me.” He sighed, and some of the tension eased out of him. “Besides, we won’t be riding all that long today.”

“We won’t?” From what my dad had told me, the Sunne Palace was at least a couple hundred miles from the Avalon border. I didn’t know how much ground we were covering at our plodding speed, but I was pretty sure it wasn’t a couple hundred miles yet.

“No. Finn showed Keane and me a map of our route last night. We’re going to take a shortcut through some standing stones.”

“Huh?” I said intelligently.

“Standing stones. Like Stonehenge, only with real magic. There are tons of them in Faerie. They can be tricky to use, but if you’ve got the skill, you can travel from one set to another in the blink of an eye.”

“Tricky to use? What exactly does that mean?”

“Each set of standing stones is naturally connected to another, and they’re active in the moonlight. So if you don’t mind traveling at night, and if you want to go where the stones will naturally take you, using them is a piece of cake. But if you want to travel in the daytime, or if you want to control which set of stones you travel to, it takes some serious magic. And screwing up the spell could be the last mistake you ever make, if you know what I mean.”

I liked the idea of taking a shortcut—the sooner we got to the Sunne Palace, the sooner I’d be able to go home—but the way Ethan was describing it made it sound like a really bad idea to play with standing stones.

“Don’t worry,” he said, no doubt sensing my tension. “Prince Henry wouldn’t risk using standing stones if he thought there was any chance a hair on his head might be ruffled. And once we go through them, we’ll have only a few more hours to ride. We should be sleeping in luxury at the Sunne Palace tonight.”

Sleeping in luxury sure sounded nice, but an uneasy voice in the back of my head told me the standing stones would not turn out to be such a great idea after all.

I was right, only not for the reasons I thought.

We’d been traveling for about two hours, and I was pretty sure riding double on Ethan’s horse had already crippled me for life, when the caravan came to a sudden and unexpected halt. It was too soon for a lunch break, so I hoped that meant we’d reached the standing stones, even though the idea of passing through them made me decidedly nervous. I leaned to the side for a better view, but there were too many riders between me and the front to see why we’d stopped. At least there weren’t any shouts of alarm.

“Are we there yet?” I murmured, and Ethan laughed.

“Don’t know,” he said. “Let’s go see.”

We were still in hilly terrain, and Ethan guided his horse off the road and up the side of the hill that bounded it. We were pretty far toward the back, but the extra height allowed us to see why we had stopped. In the distance, at the crest of a flat-topped hill, were the standing stones: about ten big slabs of gray rock arranged in a circle, making it look like the hill was wearing a crown. But that wasn’t why we’d stopped. The road we were on forked, one branch leading right up to the standing stones, the other leading around the hill and off into the distance. The road that led to the standing stones was blocked by what looked like a big hedge. The hedge was about six feet high, and wide enough to span the entire road.

“This looks like a setup for an ambush,” I said, looking nervously around, wondering if there were more Bogles about to descend on us. “Except no one seems the least bit worried.”

“I don’t think it’s an ambush, exactly,” Ethan said cryptically as he nudged his horse forward. Either he was taking us closer to the prince’s position, where it was supposedly safer, or he was taking us closer to the front line, which didn’t seem like such a good idea to me.

From our vantage point, we could see Henry slide from his horse, then talk to one of his Knights—having a conniption fit, if the way he was waving his arms around was any indication. Ethan continued to urge his horse closer, but by the time we got within earshot, the discussion/argument was over. The Knight got back on his horse and started weaving his way through the stopped caravan toward the rear, and Henry stomped up to the hedge. When he started talking to it, I wondered if he’d lost his mind.

“What is the meaning of this?” he demanded, his fists on his hips and his jaw jutting out. “Do you know who I am?”

The hedge … moved. Not like the trees and underbrush did when they got out of the way, more like some multi-limbed amoeba changing shape. The vines rustled and quivered, drawing in from the edges, and I could see now that although the leaves looked kind of like ivy, there were wicked-sharp thorns all along the branches. Whatever the hedge was, it definitely wasn’t ivy.

“Shite,” Ethan muttered under his breath. “It’s a Green Lady.”

“Do I even want to know what a Green Lady is?” I asked.

“Probably not.”

“That’s what I thought.”

The vines reshaped themselves until they formed the figure of a woman in a flowing green gown, looking very much like an animated topiary. The Green Lady bowed her head.

“I know who you are, my prince,” she said, although her head was just a featureless oval with no mouth that I could see. “It goes without saying that you may pass freely. These others, however, must pay the toll.”

“This is outrageous!” Henry shouted. “You dare to impede my progress?”

“Not at all, my prince,” the Green Lady said, and there was unconcealed amusement in her voice. “As I said, you may pass unhindered.”

“You will remove yourself from this road immediately,” Henry said, not a bit appeased. “My chattel are exempt from your toll.”

Even some of Henry’s most loyal Knights looked offended at being referred to as chattel. Even if being his chattel meant they didn’t have to pay whatever toll the Green Lady was demanding.

“Can’t they just hack their way through the hedge?” I asked Ethan, keeping my voice down, because the last thing I wanted to do was draw Henry’s or the Green Lady’s attention. There was enough firepower in our caravan to fight off what had seemed like an army of Bogles. It seemed like this one Green Lady should be no match for them.

“Yeah,” Ethan agreed, keeping his voice just as soft, “but that’s one of those things that’s ‘not done’ in Faerie. To kill a Green Lady is to poison the land, and they can demand their tolls whenever it suits them.”

“And what, exactly, is this toll she’s demanding?”

“Blood, of course,” said my dad, and I practically fell off the horse in surprise. I felt Ethan’s body jerk, too, so I guess I wasn’t the only one who hadn’t noticed my dad riding up beside us. “Virgin blood, more specifically,” Dad said, and I felt the prickle of his magic.

A chill passed down my spine. “You think Henry’s going to throw me under the bus.”

Dad gave me a quizzical look, but even if he wasn’t familiar with the saying, he took my meaning. “He can try,” my dad said grimly, and I realized we might be in more trouble now than we had been yesterday when the Bogles attacked. There was no way my dad would allow Henry to hand me over without violence, and Henry might be enough of an ass to try find a way around the safe passage agreement to do it.

It wasn’t a fight my dad could win, and we both knew it.

“These people are not all your chattel, my prince,” the Green Lady said. “I’m afraid I must insist they pay the toll. Or, of course, you can take the long way.” She gestured with one leafy arm at the road that led around the hill.

Henry sputtered a little more.

“Come, come,” the Green Lady said. “What is a little blood between friends? You do wish the land to prosper, do you not?”

At that moment, I noticed the Knight who’d been talking to Henry coming back. And I noticed, to my horror, that Elizabeth was sitting behind him on his horse, her face once more wet with tears.

“Oh, no,” I said. “He’s not going to…”

My dad’s shoulders slumped in relief. “Better her than you,” he said; then he turned to me and made a calming gesture before I could bite his head off about his callousness. “The blood toll isn’t fatal,” he assured me. “But it is unpleasant.”

I didn’t doubt that. What did Henry have against this poor girl? She was only a kid! Then again, the rest of the women in his caravan were all adults and could be thousands of years old for all I knew. Maybe Elizabeth and I were the only virgins in the bunch. Well, except for Kimber, but I doubted Henry would be allowed to offer up an Unseelie girl.

I got the impression that the Green Lady was eyeing Elizabeth hungrily, even though she didn’t technically have eyes.

Henry had obviously decided to give Elizabeth to the Green Lady from the very beginning—otherwise why would he have sent his Knight to fetch her?—but he still pretended to be completely indignant about the sacrifice. He scowled fiercely at the Green Lady, making thinly veiled threats and reminding me of a three-year-old having a tantrum.

Elizabeth was clearly terrified, and my heart squeezed with pity for her as the Knight dismounted, dragging her down with him. Her face was so white I was surprised she didn’t faint dead away, and even from a distance, I could see how badly she was trembling. She was just a kid. And Henry was going to hand her over to the Green Lady like she was exactly what he’d called her and all the rest of his people: chattel. When she balked, Henry turned on her impatiently.

“Stop blubbering,” he said with a truly overwhelming level of compassion. “Just hold still and it will be over in a moment.”

His words weren’t exactly comforting, and Elizabeth flinched from the sharpness of his tone. An angry red flush was creeping up his neck, and I had no doubt he was on the verge of beating her into submission.

Without having consciously made a decision to act, I found myself slipping off the back of Ethan’s horse. My thighs and butt groaned in protest, and when my feet hit the ground I found my legs were all wobbly, but I managed not to fall on my face.

“What are you doing?” Ethan asked me, and my dad turned to me in obvious alarm.

I remembered the Erlking telling me once that I was very protective of the people who mattered to me, and that it took very little to make someone matter. I guess he had me pegged. Elizabeth had never spoken a single word to me, but I couldn’t just stand by and let Henry hand her over to the Green Lady.

I ignored Ethan’s question and avoided my dad’s eyes as I walked around their horses toward the road. Elizabeth was trying to pull away from the Knight’s grip, and Henry was yelling at her, ordering her to march straight into the Green Lady’s clutches.

“Leave her alone!” I shouted, and everyone in hearing range went silent. Except for my dad.

“Dana, no!” he barked, and I heard the sound of his horse as he came after me.

Henry turned to me, and there was an ugly gleam in his eye that gave me a chill. “We cannot pass without a sacrifice,” he said as his gaze bored into me. “Unless you’re volunteering to take her place, my servant will give her blood to the Green Lady.”

Dad’s horse came up beside me, and Dad reached down for me. I dodged out of his reach but kept most of my attention on Henry.

“I’ll take her place,” I said, wondering if I was completely crazy. I didn’t know exactly what would happen during this blood sacrifice, and here I was volunteering for it in the place of a girl I didn’t even know.

“Dana, no!” my dad said again, this time with even more heat. “I forbid it!”

I turned to look up at him as he glowered down at me from his horse. “You said the blood sacrifice is non-fatal, right?”

“That doesn’t matter,” he said through gritted teeth. “You are not doing it!”

“Dad, look at her,” I argued, indicating Elizabeth with a sweep of my arm. The poor girl was still crying, though she held one hand over her mouth as if trying to stifle the sobs. If she were a human girl, I’d be afraid she might die of terror if she was forced to act as a sacrifice. As it was, I doubted she would actually die, but she would no doubt be emotionally scarred. Maybe I was overestimating my own toughness, but I was pretty damn sure the sacrifice would damage me a lot less than it would her.

I don’t think my dad felt nearly as sorry for Elizabeth as I did, and I was sure he was about to put his foot down, but the Green Lady spoke before he got a chance.

“A willing sacrifice is of far more value than one that is forced,” she said, turning her featureless head toward me. “I will take the willing sacrifice.” She held out a thorny arm, beckoning to me.

“No!” my dad said, a hint of desperation in his voice.

“She has already offered herself,” Henry snapped. I didn’t think he was a bit unhappy at how things were turning out. “It is too late to renege.”

“I am her father, and I forbid it!”

“Then none of you shall pass,” the Green Lady said. She pointed at Elizabeth, who cowered at the gesture. “I do not want that one.”

I could practically see the calculation in Henry’s eyes as he looked back and forth between my father and me. Our guarantee of safe passage probably meant Henry couldn’t give me to the Green Lady by force, but I doubted it would be any kind of violation if I volunteered. Which meant Henry was currently within his rights, and my dad was within a heartbeat of getting himself in serious trouble.

I didn’t think letting my dad and Henry keep up a dialogue was a good thing, so instead of waiting to see who said what next, I broke into a run, surprising everyone around me.

“Dana!” my dad cried, and I was sure the next thing I’d hear was the thundering of his horse’s hooves.

I was wrong. The Green Lady was apparently eager to accept my sacrifice, and she quickly lost her humanoid shape and tendrils of thorny vines shot out toward me.

I was a willing sacrifice, but I am human (at least mostly), and I couldn’t help pulling up short at the sight of those vines reaching for me. The thorns were as long as my fingers, and a hell of a lot sharper.

My dad yelled out something else that I couldn’t hear over the thundering of my heart. In seconds, the vines had surrounded me, trapping me in a circle of greenery. A circle that grew darker and darker as the vines packed themselves together around me until I was completely buried within them. If I so much as twitched, I was going to get firsthand knowledge of just how sharp those thorns were.

I’d been feeling really brave a couple of seconds ago, but right now I was so scared I could barely suck in a breath. I closed my eyes, hoping that would make me feel less claustrophobic, and forced myself to think of poor Elizabeth and her terror. Sure, I was scared. But I knew without a doubt that I wasn’t as scared as she would have been.

“Do not struggle,” the Green Lady’s voice said. Maybe I was crazy, but I could have sworn there was a touch of gentleness in that voice.

The vines pressed closer, until I could feel the prick of thorns against my skin. I couldn’t help the little half-gasp, half-whimper that escaped me.

“Shh,” came the Green Lady’s voice, coming from all around me. “Be still, and this will not hurt so badly.”

And suddenly, the vines contracted around me, driving the thorns into my flesh.

The thorns were everywhere, piercing me from head to toe, and it was all I could do not to scream. My most primitive instincts urged me to struggle, to pull away even though there was no escape, but I fought those instincts. I understood now why the Green Lady told me to be still. I felt like a human pincushion with all of those thorns sticking into me, but although they hurt plenty, the pain was … manageable. If I struggled, those thorns would tear me to shreds.

“Well done,” the Green Lady said, and just like that, the thorns withdrew from my body and the vines retracted, giving me room to breathe.

My knees were wobbly, and I would have fallen on my butt if several of the vines hadn’t wrapped themselves around me—without piercing me with their thorns—and held me up. Greenery still surrounded me, but it was less dense now, allowing light and air into the Green Lady’s center. I glanced down at my hands and saw lots of tiny pinpricks of blood. I suspected my whole body looked the same.

“You honor the land with your willing sacrifice,” the Green Lady said. “Such courage and generosity of spirit I have not seen for a long, long time.”

I almost said a reflexive thank you, then remembered at the last moment that there were certain creatures of Faerie you weren’t supposed to say that to. For all I knew, that was nothing but a legend—certainly the Sidhe seemed to have no problem with the words—but instinct told me that if the restriction applied to any creatures of Faerie, it would apply to the Green Lady.

My knees steadied, and the vines that held me snaked away. Then the circle around me receded, and the Green Lady reformed into her humanoid shape. People rushed in to help me, so I didn’t see the Green Lady disappear back into the forest.

Ethan was the first to reach me, wrapping me in his arms, practically smothering me. His magic tingled over me, and I knew he was healing the myriad pinprick wounds the Green Lady’s thorns had left. I put my arms around him and clung to him, burying my face against his chest, reveling in his warmth and comfort.

“That was one of the bravest, stupidest things you’ve ever done,” he said into my hair. “You just scared ten years off my life.”

I let out a little laugh, adrenaline still pumping through my system. “You’re immortal, dummy.”

“I was before I met you,” he quipped.

I would have loved to have stayed right where I was, oblivious to the outside world as I reveled in the glory of Ethan’s arms. Unfortunately, the outside world had other plans. Henry was barking out orders, trying to get us all mounted up and on the move again. I reluctantly let go of Ethan and found my dad practically on top of us, glowering.

“You’ll ride with me the rest of the way,” he informed me. The look on his face promised I would not have a fun ride.

“Um, maybe I should go back to the wagon,” I suggested. “I’m kind of sore…”

“Nice try,” he said with a strained smile as he gestured his horse over.

I sent Ethan a pleading look, but he held up his hands and backed away. “Not getting in the middle of this one.”

“Wise,” my dad agreed, giving Ethan a significant look that sent him scurrying.

I expected my dad’s lecture to start the moment I groaningly got on the horse behind him. The fact that it didn’t just heightened the anticipation—which I’m sure was exactly what my dad wanted.

With the Green Lady no longer blocking the way, our caravan mobilized once more, climbing the hill to the circle of standing stones. It was a tight fit to get all the horses and wagons within the circle, but we managed it, packing into the center, leaving about a foot or two between those of us on the outside of the circle—like my dad and me—and the stones.

Apparently, we were leaving that space so that Henry would have easy access to the stones. On foot, he walked from stone to stone, touching each one and whispering something under his breath. I felt the magic gathering, stronger with each stone Henry touched.

By the time Henry was halfway around the circle, there was enough magic in the air that I had trouble drawing in a full breath. I closed my eyes and concentrated on breathing, knowing it was only going to get worse.

“Dana?” my dad asked, concern in his voice. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah,” I said, hoping I sounded convincing. “Just a bit of delayed reaction. And a little freak-out about whatever’s about to happen.” I sucked in a breath of air, wishing Henry would just get on with it and let go of the magic before I passed out. I had to act as normal as possible, unless I wanted everyone in the entire caravan to know I could sense the magic.

“There’s no need to ‘freak out,’” Dad assured me, the words sounding kind of awkward coming from him. “Using the standing stones requires a lot of magic, but you won’t feel anything except for a moment of disorientation.”

Yeah, right, I thought as I fought for air.

“Hold on,” my dad said. “He’s going to activate the stones in a second, and the vertigo can be a bit uncomfortable.”

I figured the magic overload was so uncomfortable already I wouldn’t even notice a little vertigo on top of it. I was wrong.

You know that feeling you get in the pit of your stomach when a roller coaster is whooshing down a really steep hill? Well imagine that, only ten times worse, and combine it with the feeling of that roller coaster going upside down and sideways at the same time. That would be about how I felt when Henry’s magic activated the standing stones.

Even sitting down and holding on to my dad wasn’t enough to quell the falling feeling, and if he hadn’t held my arms against his body, I might have tumbled off the horse.

The only good news was that the effect didn’t last very long. Oh, and that I didn’t hurl, though my stomach gave the possibility serious consideration.

When I opened my eyes, we were still in the middle of a circle of standing stones, but these were situated in a broad clearing rather than on the top of a hill. I had to admit, that was rather cool—if also terrifying. The caravan started forward again, following a road that was far broader and more busily trafficked than any we’d yet been on. (Not surprisingly, considering we were now only a couple hours’ travel from the Sunne Palace.)

It was once we’d taken our habitual place near the back of the caravan that Dad’s not unexpected lecture began.

I bit my tongue and didn’t argue with him, because I knew it would do me no good. I hoped I’d never again have to step up to the plate like I had today, but I wasn’t about to promise not to. Elizabeth, in her terror, would have been shredded by the Green Lady’s embrace, and I would have drowned in guilt if I’d let that happen. I had done the right thing, and nothing my dad said was going to change my mind.