Huntress (21 page)
The Queen said, “I believe she has built a fortress for herself in the north.”
Taisin’s skin prickled. She could see that fortress of ice in her mind’s eye as clearly as if she stood before it in the snow.
“The meridians of the world are tangled up there, forced into some kind of knot that she has created. She has gathered winter all around her; I can feel the cold from here. Her actions have altered the seasons elsewhere. I have tried to bring the seasons into alignment here in Taninli, but the chaos you describe in your kingdom—it can only be a symptom of what she has done.”
The Queen leaned forward and looked at each of them in turn. “I have called you here because she must be stopped before she does more harm to this world. She has been playing with terrible powers, and soon she will destroy more than can be saved.”
Con asked: “How can she be stopped?”
“She must die,” the Queen said. “That is the only way the energies she has taken can be returned to the world.” A tiny, grim smile twisted her lips. “And only a human can kill her.”
The Queen’s words rang in Con’s ears, and he felt a chill spreading over his skin. “But if she is so powerful, how could any human succeed?” he asked. “Surely this is a task meant for one of your own.”
“My people are peaceful,” the Queen said curtly. “We cannot take the life of our own kind.”
“But she is only half Xi—”
“She is one of us, even if she could never be Queen. That is the truth she has always refused to see. Our blood, just as much as yours, runs in her veins. And there is only one weapon that can kill one of the Xi.”
“What weapon?” Con asked. “Why would we have such a weapon?”
“One of you already has this weapon. It is a simple one. You have brought it with you.” The Fairy Queen turned her golden eyes to Kaede, who felt a shock run through herself. She remembered Fin handing the iron dagger to her, hilt first.
The Xi don’t like iron
, Fin had told her.
A heavy certainty settled over her, and Kaede said to the Fairy Queen, “You would have us be murderers.”
Taisin stepped forward. “I will do it,” she said, her heart pounding. She refused to send Kaede to face this woman.
“No,” Con objected. “Taisin—”
“You are the Council’s girl, aren’t you?” the Queen said, looking at Taisin.
She flushed. “How did you know?”
“Everything they know, and many things they have forgotten, I know.” The Queen examined Taisin’s determined face intently. “But you have seen things even I haven’t seen.”
“I have seen the fortress of ice,” Taisin admitted. Kaede and Con swiveled to stare at her.
“You never said anything about that,” Kaede said, stunned.
Taisin’s face paled, and she couldn’t meet Kaede’s eyes. The things she had seen—the cages, the ice, the sea—should she have told Kaede and the others about them? The visions had been so strange; she hadn’t understood them.
The Queen asked, “Have you seen
her
?”
Taisin twisted her hands together. She felt guilty and frightened. “Yes. I’ve seen her.”
The Queen’s eyes narrowed. “Do not let her deceive you.”
“She is so strong,” Taisin said.
“I will give you her name,” the Queen said, “so that you may see her for who she truly is.”
“Her name?” Taisin was confused. “But how—”
“I named her when she was born. Her name is Elowen.”
As she said the name, Taisin felt something inside her shift—as if a bolt had been thrown back from a door, and now all she had to do was nudge it open.
“There is power in naming,” the Queen said. “And now you have an advantage, however small, against her.”
Con asked: “If we do not kill her—if Elowen remains alive—what will happen?”
“She is like a rising storm. She must be stopped soon.” The Queen turned to Kaede again. “You have the weapon. You must do this.”
Kaede’s fingers curled into fists. All of her balked at the Queen’s demand. “I am no assassin.”
The Queen gave her a measuring look. “I am not seeking an assassin. I am seeking a hunter.”
In their sitting room, Con paced back and forth in front of the balcony doors. The Fairy Queen had asked for their decision by end of the day, and Con felt trapped. If what she said was true—and Taisin seemed to believe her—then how could they refuse? Yet Con believed the Queen was asking them to undertake a suicide mission, though Kaede argued that he couldn’t predict the outcome. As the hours passed, they talked in circles until Kaede abruptly asked Taisin, “Why haven’t you told us about your visions?”
Startled, Taisin responded, “I didn’t know what they meant. What use would it have been for me to tell you?”
Kaede looked hurt. “We might have helped you figure them out.”
Taisin reddened, feeling chagrined. “I’m sorry. I just—Sister Ailan—” She sat down in one of the armchairs, a miserable expression on her face.
Con stopped pacing and turned to her. “What have you seen?” he asked gently.
She closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose as if her head ached. “I see the fortress, repeatedly. It is made of ice, like a mountain floating on the sea. I see the fay in cages. They can’t stand being imprisoned; I think some of them are dying from it. I see her—Elowen. She has a nursery. There was a baby there, like the one we saw in Ento. I don’t know what she’s trying to do, but it’s—” A wave of revulsion swept through Taisin as she recalled the sight of the infant monster smashed against the floor. “She is cruel. She is more powerful than anyone I have ever encountered, except for the Fairy Queen herself.”
“Is the fortress guarded?” Con asked.
“I don’t think so.”
“Then we might have the advantage of surprise,” Con suggested.
Taisin frowned. “The fortress is surrounded by open sea. I think we would be visible from quite a far distance.”
“Then she could kill us before we even step foot in her fortress,” Kaede said. She leaned against the table, her arms crossed.
“True, but…” Taisin trailed off, biting her lip.
“What is it?” Kaede asked. “What are you not saying?”
“I think… I think she will allow us to come.” Taisin seemed hopeful and frightened all at once.
“Why?”
“Because she will not think we are a threat. We are three humans with a tiny little dagger.”
Con rubbed at his chin, considering Taisin’s words. He wondered what Tali would do, and a pang went through him. He looked at Taisin, pale-faced and stiff in her chair carved out of a tree trunk, and then at Kaede, who had dark shadows beneath her eyes. He had known Kaede since they were children; he could remember her in pigtails, chasing him and her brother across the broad palace courtyards. He remembered that her eighteenth birthday was today; she was of age now. But he could not shake the feeling that all of this had come too soon for her, and Taisin was just as young. Tali would never let them take the risk of going after Elowen. Tali would have done it himself.
“Elowen has to be stopped,” Con said, “but I will do it.”
“What do you mean?” Kaede asked. “The Queen said—”
“I don’t care what the Queen said. You’ve been carrying that dagger, but I can’t let you kill her, Kaede. I’ll do it.”
“Con—”
“You’re not going to do it,” Taisin protested. “You can’t face her. She is very powerful. She’ll destroy you.”
“If she’s so powerful, she can destroy you, too,” Con argued.
“I’ve felt her,” Taisin objected. “I’m the only one who has a chance against her. You can’t do it.” She clenched her hands in her lap stubbornly, but inside, doubt swirled. Elowen was so strong; Taisin had no idea if she could actually defeat her. She only knew that Con—or Kaede—would be defenseless against her.
Kaede was watching Taisin closely. She pulled a chair out from the table and set it in front of Taisin. She sat down, her elbows resting on her knees, and leaned toward Taisin as she looked her in the eye. “You seem to want to do this yourself,” Kaede said, “but I don’t think that’s a good idea.” There were only a couple of feet separating them now, and Kaede felt as if that space was pulsing with the beat of her heart. Taisin’s cheeks turned pink, but she did not look away. Kaede almost forgot what she was going to say. She took a shallow breath. “If we go, we go together. You and me and Con. We’ve made it this far; we have to stay together.” She looked up at Con. “Do you agree?”
He crossed his arms. “Only if you both promise that neither of you will attempt to face her alone.”
“I promise,” Kaede said. “Taisin, do you?”
Taisin’s stomach quivered. She closed her eyes, rubbing her hand over her face as she remembered the vision of Kaede leaving the shore. Con had stayed on the beach with her. She hoped they would be able to change that future. “Yes,” she said at last, reluctantly. “I promise.”
“Then we’ll go to this fortress,” Con said, “and we’ll do this together.”
When the Huntsman came to their door later, he did not seem surprised by their decision. “I will put things in order,” he told them. “We will leave in the morning.”
I
t had not taken long for Taisin to pack up her belongings. Her knapsack waited by the door, and she lay in bed unable to sleep. Supper had been subdued, and Taisin had fled to her room afterward to avoid Kaede. But now, lying here in the dark, Kaede’s face was all she could see.
If she had to describe it to someone else, she would dutifully relate the obvious details: light brown eyes, a pleasant nose and chin, and a mouth that smiled easily. But such a description omitted all of what made Kaede’s face so extraordinary to Taisin. The mischievous gleam in Kaede’s eyes when she saw something funny; the way her eyebrows arched in exaggerated reaction to Con’s jokes; the shape of her lips, and the warm, firm texture of them.
Taisin approached the memory of their kiss gingerly, as though it were a wild beast that might knock her down, and yet part of her hoped it would do just that. If she was to be a sage, she would have to turn away from that beast forever. She would never be able to marry; she would not even be allowed to take a lover. And though she had only had the briefest taste of what she would have to give up, she understood now why sages made that vow. The desire that had awakened within her was like a fog descending on a mountain valley, filling every hollow, slipping between tree limbs, tickling every leaf with its seductive breath. It left no room for the calm contemplation necessary to do a sage’s work. And though Taisin had only ever wanted to be a sage, now she wondered how she could possibly deny this feeling inside her.
She splayed her fingers across her heart; she felt the rhythmic beat there, the rise and fall of her lungs beneath. Her body was like a new thing to her; she had never known this ache before. It made her skin flush and her eyes dilate, and some part of her marveled at the focus of the energy that ran through her. All it wanted was one thing: to consume her entirely. To drive her up out of bed in the dark of midnight, to slip barefoot into the corridor between their rooms, and to deliver her, trembling, to Kaede.
Kaede was asleep, dreaming of a hunter running lightly through the Wood, a quiver on her back. She would sight her quarry and draw the arrow as smoothly as if her body were made of quicksilver. The arrowhead was cold as iron. It was Fin’s dagger, protruding from the graceful wooden shaft like an eyesore—and then the shaft turned into her hand.
There was a sound that Kaede later recognized as a door closing, and she awoke to find Taisin standing beside her bed.
Confused, her body tingling into awareness, Kaede whispered, “Is something wrong?”
“No,” Taisin said, her voice barely audible.
Kaede pushed herself up, heat coursing through her. “Do you need something?” Kaede asked, flustered.
Taisin’s hands flew up to cover her mouth, whether to hide embarrassment or laughter Kaede wasn’t sure, but a sort of half-choked sound emerged from her, and Kaede said, “Is it about… last night?” It wasn’t until the words were out that she realized what they were, and perhaps if she had been awake when Taisin arrived instead of deep in a dream, she might have never had the courage to continue. But now, still shaking off the musty fog of sleep, she said all in a rush, “I didn’t mean to upset you, Taisin. I know you’ll be a sage, and I’m sorry I kissed you—if I could take it back—”
“Oh, no,” Taisin said quickly, firmly. “No.” She came to the bed and sat down on the edge of it, and Kaede felt everything sink toward her. “Don’t ever say that,” Taisin whispered, a catch in her throat, and now Kaede was more awake than she could ever remember. She heard Taisin’s breath quickening, and as they leaned toward each other she could smell the scent of her skin. She wanted to put her nose against Taisin’s throat and inhale all of it, all of her. She bent her head toward the shadow of Taisin’s neck; her mouth brushed over the fluttering of her pulse.
Taisin was wearing an old tunic, the cloth soft with use. Some of the buttons were coming loose, and when she unbuttoned the first one, it hung down on a single thread. She took Kaede’s hand in hers and put it on her skin, and gooseflesh rose at the touch of her fingers. Kaede moved her hand, tracing the shape of Taisin’s collarbone. She pushed the tunic back, and Taisin’s long black hair brushed over her bare shoulders. And then Kaede leaned toward her and they kissed again. Her mouth opened; she breathed her in.
Taisin remembered the way it had felt when she pulled life into that tiny purple blossom, the torrent of energy through her body. She remembered the way that power rippled through Elowen like molten ore, hot and precious. This was even more exquisitely immediate; there was nothing between her and dizzying sensation. Here was the touch of Kaede’s fingers on her skin, and there the soft insistence of her mouth. Taisin felt as though there were a thousand purple flowers blooming inside her, a sea of them, each opening her black eye to the sun, trembling to see the wide-open sky.
Taisin slid into sleep so easily; her body was at ease, vulnerable.
The ice fortress swam into focus almost immediately—she was there again, standing at the window overlooking the beach. This time she felt as though she were merging into the body of the woman who stood there.
Elowen.
She formed the name on her lips, asleep in the tower room with Kaede beside her, and she felt the woman in the fortress come alive. Elowen turned her head just slightly, as though she sensed a presence nearby. She left the window and walked toward white velvet curtains hanging against the icy wall. There was a silver cord dangling from the ceiling, and as she pulled it, the curtains parted and revealed a mirror. It was made of glass like all mirrors, but there was something different about this one, though Taisin could not at first discern the difference. All she knew was that she was gazing at the reflection through Elowen’s eyes, and she saw a beautiful woman there.
She was tall, willowy, with long, golden-white hair that swept to her waist. She had yellow-brown eyes and sharp cheekbones, and her lips were the color of a bruised pink rose. Her skin was milky white and smooth as a newborn’s. She wore a gown of white silk belted with a gold chain, and her fingers were covered with jeweled rings. When she moved her hands, they flashed in the brilliant sunlight: diamonds, rubies, sapphires.
She smiled at herself in the mirror, and Taisin felt her own lips turning up at the corners. Elowen said to her: “You know my name, but I do not know yours.” Taisin heard the words as though she were standing in that frozen palace with Elowen; she heard them as though she had spoken them herself. Fear flooded through her as she realized that Elowen could see her, too. As Elowen sensed her agitation, she threw back her head and laughed. The sound echoed.
Taisin did not at first realize that Elowen had begun to push into her consciousness. They were already so close. They were breathing the same breath; their veins ran with the same blood. Taisin felt disoriented; she felt doubled. She couldn’t tell where Elowen ended and she began. But in that round tower room in Taninli, her shoulder bumped against Kaede, and Taisin drew a breath all on her own, and she remembered who she was. She nearly awoke, but Elowen reached through that mirror and held her there, transfixed, half asleep, half aware, as she demanded,
Who are you?
Taisin pushed back. It was like running in quicksand, trying to extricate herself from Elowen’s power. It was like struggling against a cold, fierce current, and she was afraid she would drown. But she fought her way up, remembering the grip of the freezing river Kell, and when she came to the surface, just as before, Kaede had her arms around her.
She gasped, drawing breath after greedy breath in the dark of Kaede’s tower room.
Kaede was whispering to her, stroking her hair back from her damp forehead.
Her blood was roaring, her heart pounding.
Kaede gathered her close and held her until her lungs felt like they were her own again.
“It was her,” Taisin whispered.
“Who?” Kaede asked.
“The Fairy Queen’s daughter.” She would not say her name.
“What do you mean?”
“I saw her,” Taisin said, and she knew that Elowen was angry.
Dawn was breaking, spreading soft pink light across the eastern sky above the city. Kaede propped her head up on her hand, looking down at Taisin’s pale and tired face. She ran a finger over the line of Taisin’s mouth.
“She knows who I am,” Taisin said.
Kaede’s hand stilled. “What does that mean?”
“I don’t know,” Taisin whispered, but fear filled her. She felt tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. She reached up and pulled Kaede down, pressing her face into her neck. She could not forget the way that Elowen had engulfed her, all power and might, and she had no idea how they could possibly kill her.