A Glimmering Girl (24 page)

“Fat chance.”

“Look, I have to motor up to Dunhevos. Duncan’s there today, and we need to talk face-to-face. Not something to discuss on the phone, even a land line. Do you mind? I might be a bit late to Mudcastle.”

“I don’t think fairies even have a word for
late
. No worries. I’ll go on ahead and represent the team. Come when you can.”

“Sun and Moon, I love you.” He hugged her.

Lilith ran her fingers through her husband’s hair and pulled him close for another kiss.

“Mm…” Cade’s low rumble vibrated in his chest. “I’d stay, but there’s not a minute to lose.”

“Go,” Lilith said. “I’ll see you at Mudcastle.”

Perfect. Cade could arrive as late as he liked, and meanwhile Lilith would get to the cottage early. If she could somehow distract Beverly and Dandelion, maybe she could find the
Tales of Wyrd & Fae
.

As for Jenna Sarumen… what was up with that?

To get to Mudcastle, located deep in the woods northwest of Faeview, a human had to either enter the fae realm through a portal or be brought from the human realm by fae magic. To the human eye, it was said to appear as a mound of earth, not high or wide enough to be called a hill, covered with snowdrops and Dutch iris that bloomed through all seasons.

Lilith turned off the Ring road, parked the Mini near the Temple of Joy and Wonder, and after a short walk through the woods she reached Mudcastle. She had never seen the mound. As faelings, she and Cade saw the cottage in fae form, a pretty stone house with a thatched roof right out of a Thomas Kinkade painting. Spring flowers bloomed year round in its garden, and the opposite end to Morning Glory’s wishing portal opened at a lilac stand nearby.

No one answered her knock.

“Hello?” Lilith called out again, but it was apparent Beverly and Dandelion were not at home. She opened the front door. “I came early.”

She crossed the threshold into the great room. No one was there. It was her lucky hour. Perhaps they’d gone to pick flowers for the dinner table. More likely, they’d forgotten their invitation altogether and had flown off to make love inside the aurora borealis.

Lilith scanned the great room on the off chance Beverly had left the journal out somewhere, but she found nothing and moved on toward the kitchen.

“Igraine!” a woman’s voice called out.

That name!
Lilith whipped around, but no one was there. She headed back through the great room toward the bedroom, and heard the voice behind her again.

“Igraine, over here!”

“Where are you?” Lilith said, on the verge of hyperventilation. That was the name! The name of the ghost who’d been trying to insinuate herself into Lilith’s life. The voice was coming from somewhere here in the great room.

“Look at me.”

“I… I think you must be invisible,” Lilith said.

“Look!”

“Where?”

“Here, you stupid wyrding woman!”

“I’m not a… are… are you Mudcastle?” Lilith said. After all, the place was enchanted. Maybe the cottage was angry that Lilith had come inside with no one home. “Ooh!” She jumped, but she’d only seen her own reflection in the mirror on the wall.

“You’re not Igraine!” the voice said indignantly, from the mirror.

“I most certainly am not.” Lilith spoke with more force than she’d intended, but her breath was all over the place.

“I know you. You’re the faeling, Lily. Beverly’s daughter-in-law. What are you doing here?”

“I was invited,” Lilith said. “But they must have forgotten. Why did you call me Igraine?”

“I couldn’t see you at first. You felt like her, but… but that’s impossible. I was confused.” 

“Maybe,” Lilith said.
Maybe not.

“Maybe not.” The mirror echoed Lilith’s thoughts.

“What are you?
Who
are you?” Lilith said. “Do you have a name?”

“Boadicea,” the mirror said.

“Max’s sister. I remember,” Lilith said. “Morning Glory said Beverly is trying to set you free.”

“She can’t do it,” Boadicea said. “I knew she couldn’t, but…” 

“I’m sorry.” Lilith unconsciously reached out and touched the mirror, then recoiled. “I’m sorry!” It felt so… wrong.
Abomination,
Max had called the mirror.

“What were you looking for, Igraine? I mean Lily. I can see just about anything. I probably know where it is.”

“I was looking for the
Tales of Wyrd & Fae
, the journal of wyrd lore. I need to find a way to stop my transition to full fairy.”

“Why? Everyone wants to be a fairy. Well, except goblins. Who have sense.”

“I want to be what my husband is. To stay in the same time line as Cade.”

“Ah, so it’s true love, then,” Boadicea said.

“You called me Igraine,” Lilith said. “Why?”

“I’m very old, you know,” Boadicea said. “In my captivity, I’ve seen many things. Centuries ago, the wyrding woman Kaelyn told Max that her ward, Igraine, would set me free. But she wouldn’t say how. And when Max spoke to Igraine after that, he didn’t bring it up.”

“Who was she?”

“That’s not the question, is it?” Boadicea said. “Not who is Igraine. You want to know
why
. Why did I think you were Igraine? Why is she trying to take possession of your life?”

“Yes, yes! I can’t let that happen, not again. I have to stop her.”

“Pfft, that’s easy. I can tell you how. But what are you going to do for me?”

“Anything.”
Thank Sun and Moon.
Someone who could help!

“You must go to the island.”

The island.
“You know about the island? It’s real?”

“Go to the island, Avalos. There you’ll find
Mistcutter,
the Sword of Mist and Rain. Bring it here to me, and I’ll tell you how to solve your problem.”

“But where is the island?” Lilith said. “This Avalos.”

“I wish I knew,” said the voice in the mirror. “Max won’t speak of it. What? What is it, Igraine—Lily? Why are you smiling? Where are you going? Wait—come back!”

Lilith ran, propelled by excitement. Without knowing it, Boadicea had given her the answer. She fled Mudcastle, frantic to get away before everyone showed up and wanted explanations she couldn’t give. Not just yet.

She ran through the trees until she found it, where she knew it would be. She’d been so intent on avoiding the portal, from whichever end, that its location was burned into her brain. The smell of lilacs filled the air. She inhaled deeply and let the fragrance calm her as she stood shaking before Morning Glory’s device.

She closed her eyes and said, “I wish I was with
Mistcutter
on the island of Avalos.”

« Chapter 23 »
Lord Dumnos at Faeview

12th century. Tintagos Castle

The battle was ended, and the sun was going down on Tintagos Plain. Hundreds of men lay dead and dying on the fields outside the castle, and the body of one woman was lost at sea.

“She’s calling for you, my lord. You can’t refuse.”

Braedon helped Ross to his feet. The lad had found him, unconscious, bleeding, and sprawled over the rocks at the foot of the cliffs below Igdrasil, and had somehow hauled him back to the tent, still clinging to
Excalibur
.

It was all still a hazy jumble. Quinn had wounded him, a sword thrust into his side which should have been a mortal wound. Only
Excalibur’s
magic accounted for Ross’s survival. Enraged, he’d run
Excalibur
through Quinn’s heart and the man had… turned to vapor. Perhaps it was the bit of magic Igraine had wyrded into the sword.

Igraine, Igraine.
How would he bear it?

He’d found a path behind Igdrasil that wound down the face of the cliff to the waters below. But she was gone. He’d fallen to his knees in anguish, screaming her name. When he looked up, the apple blossoms from her hair had floated to shore at his feet. He’d gathered them and tucked them inside his tunic and had lain down to die, not of the wound but of a broken heart and empty soul.

“Come, my lord,” Braedon said again. “Mathilde is calling for you.”

“Show respect for your monarch, lad. Call her the queen or her majesty.”

“I think not.”

“Braedon—”

“While you were unconscious, my lord, the battle turned. Stephen and Lord Sarumen arrived with a full complement and won the day.”

“Sun and Moon help us,” Ross said. “So it’s to be King Stephen after all. And Mathilde calls for me?”

They were to be executed for treason together, most likely.

“Lord Sarumen suggested a compromise, which Stephen’s agreed to. He will rule as king. But as Eustace died in battle and Stephen has no heir, Mathilde’s son, Henry Plantagenet, will succeed Stephen.”

“An elegant solution, worthy of Lord Sarumen,” Ross said. “I see you’re not in chains, lad. Have you gone over to the dark side?”

They walked through the castle gate, and Braedon uttered a short laugh. “It seems we both have, my lord.”

Gathered in the keep was a display much like that of the day before. Men on foot and on horseback surrounded the nobles they served while the denizens of the castle looked on.

“Lord Tintagos.” Mathilde called down from a wood platform which hadn’t been there this morning. Her son Henry was with her, and Prior Marrek stood self-consciously off to the side. Stephen was there too, and Lord Sarumen, as resplendent as ever.

Sarumen nodded in greeting. When he saw the sword Ross carried, his eyes lit up with desire and he gestured Ross to come up to the platform.

Ross turned to Braedon and pressed
Excalibur
into his hands. “On your life, keep this sword safe, in your possession only, or mine.”

Mathilde herself greeted Ross. “I’m glad you survived the day, Lord Tintagos.” She had lost the royal
we
. “And now you will kneel.”

Ross glanced at Braedon who’d stayed off the platform, still on the ground. The lad nodded encouragement, but for what? Ross was beyond caring. He was powerless to shape the world, obviously. He went down on one knee and awaited his fate.

Mathilde borrowed Henry’s sword, which only Ross—and Lord Sarumen—knew had once been his own. Ross thanked the high gods for that much. No woman could wield a sword with enough power to make a beheading painless—unless the sword was made of Dumnos steel.

“In Dumnos,” Mathilde said to the gathering, “Brother Sun and Sister Moon rule wind and water, land and fire. And for reasons we know not, the high gods want the land of Dumnos whole, inviolate, and watched over by its own sons and daughters. House Normandum acknowledges this to be true.”

Not what Ross had expected.

“Rise Ross—but first you must take a proper surname.”

It was the Norman way, taking a family name. Ross’s dear father had resisted, had held on to his Saxon heritage and had gone by one name to the end. Much good it did. He was always called Lord Tintagos, the baron, or my lord.

“My lord?” Mathilde said. “A name?”

“Bausiney,” Ross said.

The lady squinted, and bewildered murmurs and mumblings flitted through the crowd.

“Say that again,” young Henry said. Such authority in so brief a command. No doubt about it; here was a future sovereign.

“Bausiney,” Ross repeated with a glower, daring anyone to question him.

“It’s a sign of respect… highnesses,” Braedon called up from the ground.

“Go on, Sir Braedon,” Mathilde said. “Explain.”

“The name Bausiney. It’s a token of respect for the people of Dumnos, the old name for the road to Nine Hazel Lake where the Lady of the Lake holds
Excalibur
in perpetuity.”

Ross shuddered at the use of the sword’s name, but Braedon had sheathed it in his own plain scabbard and not even Lord Sarumen appeared the wiser.

“Bausiney, then,” Mathilde said. “Arise, Ross Bausiney, first earl of Dumnos.”

Later, when Ross came down from the platform, he shook Braedon’s hand. “You’re a poet,” he said, “and a man who can think on his feet. I knew I was right to raise you up.”

“Then I was correct.” Braedon smiled with pride. “You chose the name in honor of—”