Undone Deeds

39

The sleep spell lingered like a fog. Awareness tickled at me as it faded. The dark mass pulsed in my head, a mild warmth against the cool light of the faith stone. My eyelids lifted with gritty slowness. Essence bindings held my arms and legs to a chair, immobilizing tethers that didn’t constrict but had no give. I sensed someone in the room. I stared at an empty chair facing me. My vision blurred, then focused on a man to the right. He wore a white robe trimmed with a blue-and-gold knot pattern, the uniform of office of an archdruid.

Archdruids achieved the highest rank in a druid grove. They advised kings and queens, and their knowledge could turn war into victory or defeat. I had been taken down by a druid-triad, three people working together whose combined abilities were more than the sum of their parts.

“How long have I been out?” I asked.

He didn’t answer, his eyes half-closed as he maintained the vestige of the sleeping spell on me. The sound of a door opening broke the silence. A gust of essence rolled over me, a female Danann fairy whose signature was more pronounced than anything I had ever sensed. The archdruid glanced over my head, nodded, and excused himself. The woman didn’t move or speak, and I assumed she was one of the Fianna taking over guard duty.

When I had reached the point where I wasn’t thinking about her anymore, she moved, striding across the room to the empty chair. The sleep spell deadened my full reaction, but I’m sure she saw it in my face.

“I am Maeve,” she said, as if she needed an introduction.

The freaking High Queen of the Seelie Court at Tara was sitting four feet away from me. Dressed in black leather battle armor with silver filigree shaped in ancient Celtic swirls designs, the woman who ruled all the Celtic fey, who challenged the Elven King and changed the political landscape of an entire hemisphere by existing, reclined in the chair like she was taking afternoon tea with friends. Her wings rippled and undulated to either side, layer upon layer of gossamer membranes lifting and lowering in a mesmerizing display of color. She didn’t have her helm on, allowing her long black hair to fall and pool at her waist. I couldn’t look away from that face—expressionless yet sharp-featured, and pale, almost pearlescent. Hypnotizing was the word. Even at a glance, it was easy to see how she had captivated the world. In her right hand, she held the spear.

I flexed my wrists in their bindings. “I’d shake, but I’m a little indisposed.”

She flicked her fingers. A ball of essence puffed through the air, and the bindings vanished. I rubbed my wrists and stretched my legs. Both my daggers were gone. I nodded at the spear. “I believe that’s mine.”

Maeve looked at the spear as if she had only then realized she held it. “This? Take it.”

The streak of essence that registered my access to the spear glowed in my mind. I summoned the spear with a mental command. It glided upright across the room and into my hand. The dark mass jumped in my head as if jostled awake. A small smile creased Maeve’s lips, and the sleep spell amplified. She clenched her fingers, and the spear jumped back to her. I didn’t feel it leave my hand. “Before you held the spear, it was Ceridwen underQueen’s. Before her, it was mine. No one owns the spear, and anyone it chooses remains chosen.”

I stood, unsteady on my feet. “Thanks for the info. I’ll be going now.”

She thrust her hand at me. “Sit.”

My knees obliged and bent. The faith stone flared in my head but calmed as soon as it started. “So what’s the game, Maeve? The Elven King’s death wasn’t enough? You want a scorched earth?”

“The fate of the world is no game, Connor Grey,” she said.

I laughed. “Right. Of course. And only you can save it by destroying a city.”

She leaned back in the chair and lightly held its arms. “This city’s misfortune was fated a century ago with Convergence. Events merely unfold to their inevitable conclusion.”

“Convergence doomed Boston? Seems like the trouble it has is that you neglected your people here,” I said.

She tilted her head. “I am surprised you think that. Do you know nothing of history?”

“I know you let the Guildhouses rot from within. I know you use defense against the Consortium as an excuse for war. And now that Donor’s out of the way, you think destroying the Elven kingdom will make you the sole fey ruler,” I said.

Her face remained intent, but curious. “And to what purpose have I done all these things, Connor Grey?”

I shrugged. “Good question. Most times I think it’s because you’re a power-hungry asshole.”

“Everyone is driven by power. Without power, kingdoms fall. Realms vanish. Without power, the Wheel of the World does not turn. Of course I’m driven by power, Connor Grey, just like you.”

“Yeah, I don’t think we’re much alike,” I said.

She smirked. A High Queen smirking at me felt more condescending than even I was used to. “The first thing you asked for when you awakened was a weapon,” she said.

That stung a little. “I thought defending myself might be prudent,” I said.

“You sound like Donor.” Her tone indicated that wasn’t a compliment.

I grunted, unflattered. “Was he wrong?”

She pursed her lips and shook her head, amused again. “No, actually, but misguided. He never understood that I acted in both our interests. He was selfish that way.”

I tried to process what she was saying, but the sleep spell made my thinking sluggish. “I don’t understand.”

“There seems to be much you don’t understand,” she said.

“You had Donor on the defensive,” I said.

That sly smile was back. “That tends to happen when you declare war on someone.”

“You never declared…. wait, you’re not talking about here, are you? You’re talking about Faerie,” I said.

She narrowed her eyes at me, avid with listening, as if she needed me to say something she was waiting for. “Go on.”

“You remember. You remember Faerie before Convergence,” I said.

“Is that supposition or knowledge?” she asked.

“Are you saying you attacked Alfheim and started the war that caused Convergence?”

“Am I?”

The haze lay across my mind. I tried to shake it off, tried to piece together what she was saying. “You think I know something. That’s why I’m here.”

She waved a dismissive hand. “But you do know something. With every word, you confirm it. When I touched you through the gate in TirNaNog, I suspected as much. Remember what you know, Connor Grey.”

My head refused to clear. “I can’t think with this spell on me. Take it off.”

She murmured a chuckle. “Do you think playing naïve will make me so? Think, sir. Why are you here?”

“Because I know you are responsible for Ceridwen underQueen’s death. I can expose you to the Seelie Court,” I said.

A slight crease formed between her eyebrows. She seemed as confused as I was. “Perhaps once that would have been inconvenient, but no longer. Victory is within my grasp. The chattering of the underKings and -Queens are nothing to me now.”

“Then what the hell are you doing here?”

She leaned her head back, watching me from half-closed eyes. “I am disappointed. I thought that when we met, the situation would become evident to you. I thought you would understand.”

“Understand what? War? Destruction? You’re killing people out there,” I said.

She leaned forward as if trying to press her words into my mind. “Think, Connor. Why am I here? In the place? Why are any of us? It’s a backwater on the world stage, yet here we are. Why are Briallen and Gillen here? And Nigel and Eorla and the rest? Why are the most powerful people in the world gathered here of all places?”

“Because of you,” I said.

Like a mother proud of her child, she lifted her fingers toward me as if trying to coax me to perform. “Close. Very close. Your memory is damaged,” she said.

That was something I knew already. “You’re here to destroy everything,” I said.

“Destruction is the process of creation. Faerie was dying. I was trying to save it for all of us, and Donor refused to help. He would have let all of the Celts perish. I stole Audhumla to save us all.”

Confused, I tucked my chin, trying to make sense of what she was saying. Audhumla was part of the Teutonic creation myth. In the beginning of time, so the story goes, a cow sprang up from the primordial void and provided nourishment to the first beings to come to life.

I stared at Maeve in disbelief. “You stole their cow?”

She shrugged. “I thought everyone knew I like cows.” My jaw dropped, and she laughed. “I am not without humor, sir. Audhumla manifests as a cow because that’s how the simple Teutonic mind works. She’s not a cow. She’s a metaphor of power—of creation, Connor. I was trying to save Faerie. I couldn’t let it die. I needed Audhumla to revitalize the realm of Faerie.”

I still couldn’t get around the manifestation part. “You stole a cow,” I said.

She scoffed at my feeble attempt to understand her. “I stole creation. I stole destiny. I stole the spark of all things so that all things could exist. It’s not a cow, you fool. It’s a metaphor for the power of the Wheel of the World,” she said.

“And all those people you listed—you—you’re all here, now, because, uh, the cow’s here?”

Satisfied, she leaned back again. I took her for mad, but she seemed much too calm and confident for the crazy talk. “Now you see. I have spent over a century diverting attention elsewhere, so that none would suspect the power hidden in this city. I kept Donor off-balance, concerned about his petty kingdom abroad while I sought the tools to access the power here. You were gifted the sword against my wishes. In my surprise, the spear claimed you. The faith stone has fallen into your hands. I have them all now, save the bowl. I know the bowl is here. I felt it when I arrived. I know you must have it. You’ve drawn the others to you. The bowl is no different. Give it to me so that Faerie may live.”

I shook my head. “Give you the power to destroy everything I know in the name of creating everything you want? I won’t have that blood on my hands.”

She stood and placed the tip of the spear against my chest. “I have no problem with your blood on my hands.”

I smirked up at her. “Then you’ll never know where the bowl is.”

She pressed the spear forward. “It matters not. I have the spear and the sword. I can pull the faith stone from your mind. They will bring the bowl into my hands. They are all a piece of the Wheel of the World. They call to each other. With the three together, the bowl will arrive. I would have you at my side again when that happens, but a Faerie without you is better than no Faerie at all.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” I asked.

She gripped me by the head, her palm resting against my forehead as her fingers clutched my scalp. Her hand glowed with essence, and she brought her face close to mine. “You must remember who you are. It’s true I started the war, but I didn’t cause Convergence. You did.”

I screamed as her fingers bored into my skull and