Banished (7 page)

I pull back and tut under my breath in annoyance. What the hell is wrong with me? I’m as susceptible to a pretty boy as any warm-blooded heterosexual girl my age, but something about the
warm feeling I can feel blossoming inside me is not natural. I feel my magic twist uneasily in my core in answer to my anxiety.

Another wave of warmth and the smell of cookies hits me full force and I can imagine us kissing under moonlit skies with a soft breeze lifting my hair from my neck. The imagery is so strong and
real that I jerk backwards while pulling my attention back to the here and now. I palm my knife and hold it up, between the two of us.

I press my fingers to the bridge of my nose in an attempt to stop smelling him so vividly. And, as I stand away from him, the knife still between us, I ignore the shocked expression on his face
and let my magic surface inside me. It happily dances along the edge of my blade and shoots across the small distance between me and the Fae prince.

It takes seconds for the pulse of magic to flicker back to me after it has done a brief inventory of the young prince. He has something on him, a piece of jewellery that compels people to like
him and help him, deflecting negative energy away from him. It’s a small thing, usually overlooked by his enemies, and I spot it when I focus on what to look for. It’s a slender gold
ring on the pinkie of his left hand.

It pretty much sucks as a magic item because I vividly remember having to rescue his butt from being eaten earlier this morning.

‘Your ring,’ I say, gesturing with my blade. ‘Take it off. I’m sure you’re breaking a host of hospitality rules by wearing it in my presence,’ I tell him,
keeping my voice cool. His eyes, dear heavens, who has eyes like that in real life? ‘Please, don’t argue. Just take it off.’

Thorn holds up both his hands towards me in a gesture of surrender and hastily wiggles the ring from his finger. He drops it onto the small table that holds some of the bandages I used the night
before.

‘I apologize, Blackhart. It was a token from my mother, to keep me safe. I did not realize you would react to it so strongly.’

As soon as the ring breaks contact with his skin and drops onto the table I feel the compulsion to fling myself at him fade.

‘That was really not the way we do things here,’ I tell him, flushing to my roots at the thought of my own emotions being toyed with. I have never lost my cool like that over anyone.
‘Dangerous too. And rude. Let’s not forget rude. The laws are clear, Prince Thorn. No magic, persuasive or antagonistic, is to be used in your host’s home unless the host first
uses magic against you.’ I make a show of looking around the room and gesture with my blade. ‘No magic aimed at you! You broke that rule. I have a right to throw you out on your ear and
let you fight those redcaps and ogres all by yourself.’

The prince has the decency to look embarrassed enough at my tirade and I know I’m laying it on thick but, dammit, I just saved his butt and he’s not playing by the rules. I know the
Fae rarely do toe the line but there are just some things that count as important enough to cause a fuss about.

I draw a deep breath and exhale, and with it I let go of my annoyance. I give him another once-over to see if I’m free of the silly glamour and I’m unlucky enough to notice that,
yes, he’s as pretty as before, except now I see the state we’re both in.

‘I am grateful to you for coming to my rescue. It was a generous gesture and one I appreciate.’ His look is wry as he glances at me, his gaze taking me in. I stand my ground,
refusing to blush or to drop to the floor and crawl behind a couch to hide from his frank inspection. ‘Do you often attack parties of goblins and rescue people from imminent death?’

I favour him with a small smile that doesn’t quite reach my eyes.

‘Only when I’m bored. Last night I was bored.’

His own grin is real now, and he has laughter lines that crinkle at the corners of his eyes. It makes him look mischievous and I wonder if he is my age or older. I know there are some Sidhe Fae,
nobles, who have rituals to keep them looking in their late teens to early twenties.

‘I doubt anyone else in Alba has the skill to frighten away an entire pack of redcaps by yelling at them.’

He’s being charming, reminding me I saved him last night so that I don’t toss him out as I promised earlier. He plays a good game. But I’m filthy and I’m starving and
I’m keen to get hold of my cousins.

‘It’s a Blackhart skill. One we get paid for very well by those from the Otherwhere.’

‘I’ll try and remember that.’ His face suddenly looks grave. ‘I owe you a life debt, Kit Blackhart.’

I force my jaw not to drop. A life debt for a Fae was serious business. It was like being handed an IOU slip that can be used to cover any eventuality. Not sure how to respond to this massive
open promise, I wave my hand to show it was okay and edge past him carefully, picking up the mess of first-aid stuff from the floor.

‘I think we could both do with some breakfast,’ I say. ‘Then we can try and figure out how to get you back to your travel party. Where are your bodyguards?’ I ask him as
I stuff everything I’d left lying out into a bin bag. ‘I didn’t see any sign of them in the clearing. They didn’t leave you to cope on your own?’

As soon as the words are out of my mouth I know I’ve hit on a delicate point. Even without looking at him, I sense the congenial repartee we have going disappearing.

‘I had a patrol of soldiers with me. We were attacked when we came through the gateway.’

I frown at him.

‘I saw no other bodies,’ I say as I turn to look at him. ‘Why were you out there by yourself?’

Uncertainty spreads across his face. ‘I’m not sure. So much happened, so quickly.’ He touches his eyebrow, his fingers sliding across the cut I’ve bandaged, and frowns at
me. ‘We were heading for the gateway, all of us, ready to ride through. We kept tight formation the entire time we were being chased. Within sight of the gateway my horse threw me. I was
flung to the ground and, the next thing, the men with me had me surrounded.’

‘They turned on you?’

Thorn’s nod is brief. ‘There was something, though – something as we came near the gateway.’

‘What?’ I forget what I’m doing and watch him. The bandages and first-aid kit I have been gathering lie abandoned for a moment.

‘A darkness. Thick black shadows and so much noise. We raced to get to the clearing and, although the noise was that of a huge battle, we found no one in the darkness. What did change were
my men. I looked up at them and they were no longer the people I knew. They were different. Their faces . . .’ His gaze becomes distant. ‘They had turned into ravening beasts fighting
each other and then they seemed to become aware of me. I had to defend myself against my friends.’

‘That can’t have been pleasant.’ I realize it’s an inane thing to say, but – really – what else can I say? I rub my face and stand up with the black bag in my
hand. I think my expression reflects the horror he must feel because he nods to himself.

‘The magic I felt in the air, in the shadows all around me, was unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. It was cloying, sickening. It smelled like something dying. I don’t know
how many of my soldiers fell to my blade. I lost count. When I got through the gateway alive I couldn’t believe it. I looked up but found myself surrounded by the redcap welcoming committee,
who looked as surprised to see me as I was to see them.’

‘You weren’t supposed to make it through,’ I say and he nods. ‘That’s very interesting. Who would want you dead?’ I ask him.

The look he throws me is dark and I hold up my hands. ‘Sorry. Just thinking out loud.’

‘No,’ Thorn says and his voice is very tired. ‘You’re right. Something is definitely going on and we have to figure out what it is.’

‘We?’ I say, feeling my mouth twist into a grin. ‘You’re asking a Blackhart to help you sort out Alba problems?’

The smile he gives me is bleak. ‘Perhaps we can talk about that after breakfast.’

In answer I can feel my stomach rumble. ‘Of course,’ I say, gesturing with my hands full of bandages. ‘The kitchen is just through here.’

He follows me as I lead him through the quiet house. We get to the kitchen and I install him at the well-scrubbed farm table that can seat a dozen people. I dump all my mess in
the bin and go into the utility room to wash my hands. I’m aware of the state I’m in so I rummage in the clean washing that’s not been sent up to our rooms yet. I find a T-shirt
and pull that on. There will be time for a shower later on, so I scrub my hands thoroughly and agonize for a moment over what looks like a spot coming out on my chin.

In the kitchen I busy myself with the cups and kettle.

As the water boils, I pop my mobile out of my pocket, desperately sending Megan and Marc a text to call me ASAP. Where was Jamie again? Hawaii? If he was training government people it meant that
he would be out of contact for the duration of his assignment. It was part and parcel of how he operated.

I try ringing the twins and Kyle’s dad, Uncle Andrew, who lives for part of the year in New York and runs a big part of the family business from there. He commutes between New York and
London as the need arises. Their mum, my aunt Jessica, works closely with him as she’s a trained lawyer and is adept at both human and Fae law and lore. She welcomed me with open arms when
Jamie brought me here after my nan’s death. She sat with me through nightmares and fevers that racked my body as my magic tore through me. Hers is the face I now associate with coming through
that ordeal alive. There’s no answer at their brownstone in Boston or on either of their mobiles.

The kettle whistles and I jerk with fright, looking up from my mobile phone screen. ‘Would you like coffee or tea?’ I ask Thorn as I lay my phone on the counter next to me.

Thorn grimaces. ‘Tea,’ he says firmly. ‘Coffee doesn’t agree with me.’

I raise my eyebrows in question but he looks uncomfortable so I drop my initial reaction to ask him about it. I pour the water and as I wait for the tea to brew, I ring Aunt Letitia but
there’s no answer; that worries me a bit. She never leaves her tower or her library, not even for big family shindigs. She trusts no one to care for the archives she’s in charge of and
has more security and alarm systems set up in and around her land and in the tower than MI5 or the Bank of England combined.

I walk into the pantry and bring out eggs and fresh bread. ‘Are you vegetarian?’ I ask him. ‘Would you like bacon with your scrambled eggs?’

‘Bacon is good, thanks,’ he says. He sees the bread and smiles. ‘Your brownie, what does she call herself again? Mrs Evans? Her preserves are legendary in Alba. You must be
very fond of her.’

‘About as fond of her as she is of us.’ I don’t tell him about sweet Mrs Evans, who is a royal terror to live with. She bosses us all around and guards her preserves and cakes
more fiercely than a dragon does his treasure. Whenever she leaves the house I get to unpick her spells so we can feast on the stuff she’s left behind.

However, the best thing, in my opinion, about having a house brownie look after your home is that you have a practically unlimited supply of baked goods in the house. I glimpsed scones and a
double-layered chocolate cake in the pantry as I rummaged for the bread and eggs.

‘Do you visit the human world . . . I mean the Frontier often?’ I ask him over my shoulder. ‘You don’t look as unfamiliar with things as I thought you’d be.’
I don’t tell him that I’m utterly clueless about what the Fae world is like. Do they even have electricity in Alba?

‘I spent a year here, staying with one of my father’s friends. We lived in a place, far from here. Canada, I think it’s called.’ When I nod he continues. ‘I was
only young, maybe eleven. My father’s friend, he had a human job, working for the human authorities, looking after a nature reserve.’

‘That sounds cool,’ I say. ‘Did you learn much?’

Thorn shrugs and winces when he pulls the stitches in his shoulder. ‘I think not. It wasn’t very different from being on a really long fishing and hunting trip with my brothers.
Gregor lives an isolated life and he didn’t really approve of me wanting to visit town and making friends.’

‘But you did, though? Did you go to school?’

‘No. I didn’t attend school, not here, anyway. I had tutors in Alba.’

‘Teaching you how to be a prince?’

‘Something along those lines.’

I scramble the eggs and toast the bread – only lightly burning two of the slices. The bacon’s a dream and I try not to drool on myself as I put our laden plates down on the
table.

I sit down and devour half of my breakfast before I come up for air and see Thorn doing the same. We trade crumbly smiles, happy enough to be just stuffing our faces. After my fourth slice of
toast I start feeling alive again and lean back in my chair. The tail-end of the headache I’ve had since I woke up the day before has eased up and my head feels clear.

I lean forward and grip my cup of coffee.

‘So, do you have any idea what’s going on? Why were redcaps waiting for you in the forest here, in the Frontier?’

I get a small smile at my clarification about using the word ‘here’. While he considers his answer and drinks more tea, I can’t shake the feeling of pretend. Using the words
‘the Frontier’ to describe the human world while the faerie realm is the Otherwhere still feels awkward. Who came up with the names anyway? They don’t really trip off the
tongue.

‘I’m not sure it has anything to do with Suola or the Sun King,’ Thorn says, taking a deep drink of his tea. The Sun King was the title for the Seelie ruler and his Court is
also known as the Sun Court. Suola is Queen of the Unseelie and not someone I’ve ever actually met in real life, and I’m not keen to, either. Thorn’s dad, King Aelfric of Alba,
one of the large countries within the Otherwhere, is Alba’s high king and both Suola and the Sun King bend their knee to him. ‘I’ve been on the road for several months, running
dispatches for my father. I’ve been backwards and forwards between the two Courts and they could have taken me any time they wanted.’ He rubs his brow. ‘We’ve had skirmishes
with some bandits and a tribe of goblins, but nothing serious. Nothing out of the ordinary. Not until maybe two weeks ago. We were camping near Mikkeli, getting ready to meet a band of ogres to
sign a treaty with a bunch of farmers. The night before the meeting, a stranger rode into the camp. She identified herself as a King’s Rider.’