The Earl's Childe (41 page)

Voices, lots and lots of voices, started coming through what had been a pristine silence. It took a minute for my brain to sort them all out.

“Heather! Heather! Heather, baby!” Both my parents pretty well tackled me in hugs. “What happened? What was that?”

I picked out my dad's cracking voice as he pressed his face into my neck. “Someone said…you were…”

“I'm fine, Dad, Mum. I'm okay. Really.”

More tackles and hugs came from Lily and Joe. Even Rowan found my hand and squeezed it. Isis had wriggled into the group and was licking my face. As the rest of my friends threatened to smother me, I pushed everyone away. “I need a little breathing room, please? I'm fine!” I dodged from them and ran to Ermie, throwing my arms around his neck. He tore his gaze from the woods and nuzzled me. “You know,” I whispered to him because my brain so couldn't handle mindspeaking now, “you
so
cannot tease me about boys who like me after that little bit of flirting bit back there.”

He chuffed a “hmph” right into my face and gave me a gentle push with his nose.
And
you
cannot command me to cease calling you “precious.” You silly, precious child
.

“I'll tease you about crushing on unicorns, I swear it!”

That would be so
precious
of you, wouldn't it?

I couldn't help but laugh. But you know what? A good soul
is
precious. And Ermie seemed to be realizing that, too.

CHAPTER

21

Appreciating the beauty of a cliff's edge…and the danger
.

I closed my eyes and relished the burn of wind on my face. I wanted to let go of Ermie's mane and throw my arms out, but I didn't. I didn't want to make Max jealous of Ermie's tentacle fur, or worse, tempt him to try it on a horse without tentacle fur.

And it was a long fall down the ocean cliffs.

Behind me, I heard Joe laughing as I'd never heard him laugh before. He needed it as much as, or probably even more than, Max and I did. Running at this speed was beyond amazing.

As we slowed to a walk, I stared down at the waves crashing against the rocks and the birds soaring below us. We'd gotten permission to take Ermie and Stormy out for a long ride. Considering everything we'd gone through, including me almost dying for real and Dream getting killed, well, we all needed this.

Despite how awesome it felt in the moment, laughing as we looked down the dizzying cliffs, I felt guilty and selfish. Our parents had let us come by ourselves. I know they, too, could have used the incredible feeling of flying we had right now. Especially Mum, who normally never let us see her cry, but broke into sobs when we returned to Dream's body. She didn't stop even after she'd piled the last stone upon the cairn she'd built over his grave. I finally told her what happened once all the daoine síth and their court left. I had to, right then, because she was going out to the barn to check on the horses. It had been horrible, seeing her face and knowing the words coming out of my mouth were hurting her. When Ermie had killed Osiris, Isis's brother, Dad had felt that pain very much, too. But for Dream, Mum was crushed. The horse had been her “baby” before Lily and I were even born. I felt awful that I hadn't been able to stop Calbraith from torturing and killing the poor horse. After that first breakdown, though, she fought to hide any more tears. Especially with Max and the others still at our house.

Max was still with us because he, like Lily's friends—no,
our
friends—had also asked to stay. They'd gone through everything with us; they didn't
have
to go home and have their memories messed with. We'd just have to be quiet and not tell anyone about it. As far as the rest of the world knew, Mum's stay-away horse camp had been canceled this year.

And then there was Livy. She
had
left. And she
had
asked Tony to erase all her memories of coming to Mum's horse camp. I don't know if Livy even wanted to stay friends with us. She didn't tell us what she'd asked Tony to do. She'd just said goodbye.

These thoughts made my stomach plummet faster than if it fell down the hundred or so of meters of cliff I stared over.

“You all right?” Joe moved his hand from my waist, where he'd been holding on for the ride, and waved it in front of my face.

“Yeah, just thinking.”

Liar
, came Ermie's voice in my head.

I thought I was supposed to be
your
Jiminy Cricket?

My
what?

Conscience. Never mind
. I sighed.

“Mum. Dream. Livy,” I said to Joe.

“I'm sorry, Heather.” I felt Joe sigh and nod behind me, hugging me and putting his hands over mine on the reins. “About Livy… What if other, you know, faery stuff happens to you all when she's around?”

“I don't think she wants to hang around us anymore. I think she even asked Tony to…I don't know…make her not
want
to hang out with us.” I sighed again. “Can he do that? Can he just erase her remembering anything about being friends with us?”

Joe didn't answer right away. “He's changed, like, the whole of reality for everyone else. Erased the memories of everyone involved. Gotten rid of any notes in calendars… So, yeah, he can do…well…a lot. And yes, I know how scary that is.”

Ermie growled below me, letting me know that he was
well
aware of how scary a djinni could be.

I sighed. “I suppose that keeps her safe. Not that I'm thrilled with dragging
anyone
into more faery adventures. I don't want anyone else hurt.”

Ermie snorted and looked where Max had stopped several paces behind us, clinging to Stormy as he stretched just enough to look over the cliff before backing the half-kelpie several steps and taking a deep breath.

“I don't think you get a say in that, Heather,” Joe said, and I could hear the dry smile in his voice. “I mean, if I hear about you starting any more adventures without me, you are in seriously deep best-mate trouble!”

I couldn't keep myself from laughing. Best mates could do that, make you laugh when you needed it most. “You either. Magic lamps and djinn, really now!”

Max walked Stormy over to us with a shy smile. “What are you talking about?”

“How we're not allowing each other to go gallivanting off with faerie without letting the other know,” Joe said.

I didn't exactly like the tone in his voice. It reminded me too much of Chris and Jared doing their butthead big-brother routine on poor Max, and Joe was only a year older than I was, so he
totally
did not get to pull that rubbish! “Present company included on the ‘having to call us if there's any faery troubles,' by the way. You don't get to go throwing yourself into danger without proper consultation, either.”

Behind me, I heard something resembling a “hmph,” and beneath me, I felt the jiggle of Ermie trying to hold back a laugh. Ignoring them both, I looked at Max, who had turned away, but not enough to hide the blush in his cheeks.

“I mean it,” I said. “Official faerie liaison-y person, here. Any trouble, and you have to tell me. Important fey law or something. I'm sure it's written down somewhere.”

Finally, a smile and chuckle broke through Max's face. He looked at me, grinning even more. “Thank you, Heather. That means a lot.” I caught his eyes flash to Joe and his expression dim a little. I didn't know what look Joe was giving him, but for good measure, I stretched out my arms, twisting a little, and “accidentally” elbowed my best mate in the ribs. I felt the kelpie shaking with even more amusement. Ugh, boys!

Max bit his lip a little. “So, you never told me if ‘Ehrwnmyr' actually means something, like in, I don't know, the fey language?”

The kelpie's chuckles stopped and he snorted, looking back over the water. He closed his eyes, stretched his neck, and curled his lips, tasting the salty air as the wind whistled by us.

“Well,” I asked, leaning to scratch his favorite scratching spot. “Does it?”

“‘Ehrwnmyr' sounds kind of like a whicker to me,” Joe said. “Like, a pattern of horse, well,
kelpie
, noises.”

Ermie's sigh was deep and dramatic.
The prince is closest. My father called me that because he said it was the sound that the sea wind makes when it rushes through the bushes on the cliffs…just before a storm comes in
.

Max smirked at me. “You mean the heath and heather bushes?”

He was close enough to punch on the shoulder, so I did. “You know how often I have to hear my dad sing ‘Wild Mountain Thyme' and emphasize my name?”

“I don't, actually, Heather.” Max grinned, side-passing Stormy out of punching range. “How often
does
your dad sing songs with flowers you're named after?”

I nudged Ermie with my heel to get him to follow, so I could deliver a proper follow-up punch. The kelpie had decided to stop bothering to hide his laugh and let it cackle. It echoed down the cliff, disappearing into the sound of roaring waves and bird squawks.

Well, if he was going to be that way, I could tease right back. “So, if you're named after the sound a storm wind makes, then it sounds like Son of Storms was named properly. And ‘Stormy' is a great name for him.”

“Yeah, actually,” Max said.

I gently smacked Ermie's neck.

“What did you do that for?” Max asked me.

“He knows,” I answered as Ermie blatantly ignored me.

“So, did…Calbraith name Stormy?” Max rubbed beneath his mount's mane.

I never told him the name Ehrwnmyr, so if he did, it wasn't for that
. He didn't say it in words, but I felt in my head that though it wasn't his True Name, he didn't share “Ehrwnmyr” with many people. At least, not until he met me.

“Would you change his name if he had?” Joe asked.

Max shook his head. “The name suits.”

Ermie gave a tiny sigh but kept his opinions to himself. The five of us, human and fey together, stared over the cliff again.

The view was both awesome and terrifying. And I was pretty sure it wasn't the last time we'd be feeling both those feelings at the same time. For now, though, it was something the group of us, a group of friends, could enjoy.

Author's Notes on Nobility and the Royal Family in Heather's World

One of the more difficult things about being an American author writing stories set in Scotland, as well as stories with characters not from her culture, is obviously the cultural difference. And one of the biggest cultural differences is that surrounding royalty, nobility, and peerage. Americans specifically shunned these ideas in declaring independence from Britain, so I hope any mistakes I may have made are covered up enough through Heather being half-American.

Regardless of my American-characters buffering attempt, I did an awful lot of research on nobility when I first started this series because, when Joe hopped into my head, he made it very clear who and what he was. (Characters doing such things is
totally
normal for writers!)

I read significant amounts of information on the royal family (the relatively recent Diamond Jubilee, Royal Wedding, and Royal Birth and their coverage in the U.S. pretty much handed me a bunch) and the rules of nobility, as well as the proper etiquette in dealing with royals and nobles.

Even with my research, I didn't want to take any chances of offending actual people, so I made some changes to things.

While there is currently an Earl of Perth, there is not one of “Perthshire” (although there had been at one point).

Several of the docents at the castles I visited in Scotland made mention of an Earl of the Borders (the southern part of Scotland that meets England), but there is no current one.

There is no Earl of Berwickshire, nor has there ever been, but that's the region of Scotland where Heather lives. And the name of the region the person has title over is the proper way you'd address a noble, which is why I have Tony address Michael as Lord Berwickshire.