Huntress (27 page)

Taisin: the warmth and the smell of her skin; the pleasure of her kisses. Love, new and fierce.

And then there was Elowen, reaching for her throat. Blackness; everything snuffed out. She floated free, like a seed on the wind. Kaede wondered: Had she died? There had been a moment—she was sure now—when she had ceased to exist as a living human being.

She remembered opening her eyes to see Elowen’s snarling face. Her knees skidding across the floor, her hand reaching for her weapon. The iron dagger, buried in Elowen’s heart. Blood on her hands.

If she had killed someone who already killed her, did that still make her a murderer?

Her eyes flew open. The unicorn lowered his head. She looked into his black eyes, and though he did not speak in words, she understood him.

Harmony: This was the heart of nature. Every living being—plant, animal, human, fay—had its place in the cycle of life and death. In this cycle, countless creatures worked in tandem as well as against one another. All of these beings formed a complicated whole that shifted and changed in order to maintain that harmony.

Elowen had taken many lives in order to extend her own. Her stockpiling of power had wreaked havoc on nature. Her death was justified. But that did not mean that harmony was restored, for harmony is never achieved through murder.

And Kaede had to accept her part in that. Tears slid down her face. The experience of killing Elowen—of death on her hands—would be imprinted on her always. She had been given an extraordinary gift in Elowen’s fortress: a second life. She understood that now, and she knew she had a responsibility to live up to it—if the unicorn allowed her to.

He lowered his horn until the point came to rest lightly against her chest. The touch of it sent a shock through her. All he had to do was push forward, and she would be dead. But he remained still. He was not finished with her.

He showed her that although she may have held the knife, it was the Fairy Queen who put it there, and the Queen had acted out of desperation and self-hatred. She did not want to accept her own responsibility for the tragedy of Elowen’s life. Now the Queen was paying her own price: She was dying, and so were her land and her people.

If the Queen died without an heir, the ash that had blanketed Taninli would spread, sifting into the cracks and corners of the Wood, sinking into the Nir until the river became thick and slow. There would be no summer; there would be no autumn or winter or spring—only this never-ending grayness, as if all the color had been leached from the world.

This could not be allowed to pass. The Fairy Queen must live, so that her land could heal. Kaede knew that the Queen would never be the same again. Her time to die would come soon. But she needed to live—for now.

The unicorn lifted his head and gave Kaede permission to draw his blood with her knife, the same one that had killed Elowen.

With shaking hands, she slid the blade across his throat, holding the horn cup beneath it, and drop by drop, his life fell into her hands.

The Huntsman looked as if he had aged a decade when she returned to his camp. Her horse had found his way back on his own, looking none the worse for his experience in the unicorn’s grove.

“Is it done?” the Huntsman asked.

She held up the horn. “Yes.” She was drained, exhausted.

Relief flooded into the Huntsman’s face, making him look almost human. “Then we must return,” he said, and called their horses.

He pushed them hard on the journey back to Taninli. Every day that passed brought the Queen one step closer to her premature death, and he could sense the Wood already beginning to wither. The sun, now, was always covered by cloud.

When they returned to Taninli, they found the city much changed. The layer of dust that had fallen over the palace had spread to the streets. The scent of burning hung heavily in the air.

At the palace courtyard, they dismounted quickly. Kaede had slung the horn over her shoulder, and the knife slapped against her hip as she hurried after the Huntsman. In the throne room, the Queen still lay in her crystal chair, and Taisin and Con paced near the windows as if they had never left. But Kaede could not spare more than a glance for them, for the Queen was on the verge of death.

Kaede climbed the steps to the dais and knelt before the Queen as she had knelt before the unicorn. She unlatched the cap and dipped her fingers into the blood, which was as warm as it had been when it dripped from the creature’s throat. She smeared it in long strokes over the Fairy Queen’s sunken cheeks, and words came to her mouth as though the unicorn were speaking through her: “As life is in the blood, so you shall receive it, for it is blood that brings life.” She lifted the horn cup to the Queen’s mouth, and a great shudder ran through the Queen’s body.

As the blood spilled over the Queen’s tongue, Kaede’s world lurched. The floor seemed to shake beneath her, and she clutched the horn cup, feeling dizzy. The Queen leaned toward her, and she was so close now that Kaede could see the Queen’s pupils dilating. The Queen’s mouth opened in a gasp. Kaede saw the smear of blood on her lips, and somehow Kaede, too, could taste it, metallic and bitter. She felt it traveling through her body as if she had drunk from the cup herself. She realized that iron was burning through the Queen—iron from the unicorn’s blood—and it would kill her just like Kaede’s dagger had killed Elowen.

The Queen’s eyes were almost entirely black now; only a thin rim of gold encircled her pupils, and a chill was spreading over her skin like frost. She was dying. Kaede wanted to sob: This was not what she had intended. The Queen was supposed to live!

She closed her eyes; she did not want to see the Queen die. A memory rose like a ghost between them, and Kaede could see it just as the Queen did: a birth. A night of pain, horrible pain, followed by the sweetest dawn of the Queen’s life. A baby girl with eyes of gold and hair the color of sunlight. Elowen.

Another ghost of a memory appeared: A hot summer afternoon in the Great Wood. A man alone, lost. There was something beautiful about him: the openness of his face, the strength of his hands. The Queen had no intention of keeping him for long, but he was so different from her many courtiers, with their elegant clothes and cool, appraising blue eyes. This man’s eyes were the color of the earth, and his mouth was warm.

Kaede felt the Queen’s heart pounding. Moments before she had felt the chill of death on the Queen’s skin, but now there was a rising heat. Kaede opened her eyes and saw the Queen’s face glowing as if she were lit by a fire within. The light grew until the Queen was bright as a star; she was the brightest, strongest star in a constellation, and every living creature was in orbit around her. But even the Fairy Queen was not invulnerable, for even she could be wholly changed by the smile of a handsome young man on a hot summer day.

The Queen was alive; she was reborn. Joy and relief swept through Kaede, and she took the Queen’s hands in her own, discovering that the Queen was clutching Elowen’s medallion in her fingers. The chain rustled as it slid between their hands; the stone warmed as the Queen’s papery skin became strong and smooth, and her cheeks bloomed pink as a rose.

She smiled at Kaede, a smile that sloughed off Kaede’s lingering doubts and sadnesses, and she said, “My huntress: You shall have your reward for what you have given me.” She leaned close to her so that she spoke in Kaede’s ear, and no one but she could hear.

“My name,” she whispered, “is Ealasaid.”

When she drew back, Kaede saw her for who she truly was, and she wept to see the Queen’s love for her dead daughter, and what difference there was between fay and human was erased, for both understood the sorrow of loss.

Chapter XL

A
fterward there was a great celebration, and Kaede, Taisin, and Con were granted free reign to go where they pleased within all of Taninli. Con spent many hours with the Fairy Queen, discussing the terms of a new treaty between their lands, for they both agreed that the time of isolation should end. He planned to present the treaty to his father as soon as he was back in Cathair, and if possible, he would bring the King himself to Taninli the next year.

Kaede and Taisin spent their last night in Taninli in the rooms they had been given during their first visit. Though they could have joined the revelry in the streets below, they were content to simply be near each other, for they both sensed that something precious was coming to an end.

It was Kaede who finally said the words, for she could not bear to pretend. “You’re going back to the Academy, aren’t you?”

Taisin looked away, but she could not deny it.

“I understand, you know,” Kaede said resolutely, though it felt like her heart might break.

Tears trickled from Taisin’s eyes. She covered her mouth with her hands as if that would hold the emotion inside.

Kaede got up and walked the few steps to where Taisin was seated nearby, and pulled her close. Taisin’s shoulders shook as she cried, her face pressed against Kaede’s stomach, her arms wrapped around her waist. It was a long time before she could speak, and Kaede knelt down and held her hands while she listened to her.

“It’s the only thing I’ve ever wanted my entire life,” Taisin said, her voice breaking. “I’ve dreamed of becoming a sage since I knew what a sage was, and I’ve always known what sacrifices it would require. There is still so much for me to learn, and I have so many questions to ask my teachers. But I love you so much. How can I give you up?”

“You’re not giving me up,” Kaede said, and she kissed her hands. “You’ll always have me.”

Taisin’s eyes welled up with tears again. She dragged one hand free and wiped them away, drawing a ragged breath. “Kaede,” she said, and she had never before realized how much she loved the sound of her name, the way it felt to say it, the look on Kaede’s face when she heard Taisin call her. “Kaede, if I become a sage, you know what that means. I have to take a vow of celibacy. I will be with no one.”

Kaede had planned to tell her that she should not give up her lifelong dream for her; that she had proven herself too gifted in her power to not continue her training at the Academy. But she also ached deeply to think that she might never hold her again. It was like someone was digging a hole in her and dragging out her heart, and she didn’t know if she could bear the pain. “It’s a ridiculous rule,” she said bitterly, startling a laugh out of Taisin.

“There is a reason for it,” Taisin said gently.

“What reason?” Kaede demanded.

Taisin stroked Kaede’s hair back from her face, her fingers tangling in the black strands. “Every time I look at you, Kaede, I—” She stopped, breathless, her cheeks reddening.

“What?” Kaede said, the core of her quickening.

“Every time I—I—you know I can’t think, Kaede. You make me stop thinking.” She gave a brief laugh, and when Kaede’s hand ran over her thigh, she shivered.

“You think too much,” Kaede murmured, and she pulled Taisin’s hand from her hair and kissed her bare wrist, pushing back the sleeve of her tunic. Her skin was warm and golden and unmarked.

Taisin sighed, her whole body coming alive. “I’m not a sage yet,” she whispered, and they kissed, and kissed, and a few minutes later, they left the sitting room and went to the round chamber overlooking all the city lights, and they closed the door.

It was easier to say some things in the dark.

“When we leave here—”

“—things will change.”

“It’s better this way,” Taisin said. “We’ll have to get used to—to the way things are going to be.” She felt as though she were kicking herself in the gut.

“You should change the rule.”

Taisin smiled. “No matter what happens, I’ll always love you.”

“Taisin—”

“Wait,” Taisin said, putting her finger over Kaede’s lips. “Let me say this. I’ll always love you, but I make no claim on you. You aren’t bound the way I’ll be. I know that. There’s no reason for you to be alone—”

“Taisin,” Kaede said, raising herself up on her elbows and looking down at her. “Stop it. I love you, and right now, that’s all there is.”