Banished (24 page)

I look at Thorn and mouth, ‘Fae revels?’ but he gives me a carefully blank look that tells me that he knows too but isn’t comfortable talking about it. ‘Right,
we’ll follow you guys,’ I tell Aiden, but he interrupts me as I start lowering the phone.

‘I’ve been watching carefully.’ Aiden’s voice is loud enough really without my having to use the speakerphone. ‘And I’m sad to say I didn’t see any more
kissing.’

‘Aiden?’

‘Yes, Kit?’

‘Shut up before I hurt you.’

My only answer is laughter and Olga’s questioning voice in the background asking about kissing, before the phone goes dead.

‘Why is he so obsessed with kissing?’ asks Thorn. ‘Do you think there’s something wrong with him?’

I laugh at that and shake my head. ‘He’s doing it on purpose to annoy you.’

‘Well, it’s working.’

I know it’s bad of me but his unhappy scowl makes me want to hug him.

‘He knows that it’s working, so you just have to pretend to not care.’

‘Hmmm.’ Thorn watches Olga’s car overtake us on the quiet road and I put my foot down on the accelerator to keep up. ‘Also, he is very young and silly.’

‘Oh, and you’re ancient?’ I ask flippantly, still smiling. For a second I worry I’ve somehow offended him, but then he laughs.

‘No, I am not ancient but sometimes I feel it. Especially these past few days.’

‘How old are your brothers? Are there big gaps between you?’

‘My brothers are all far older than me. I came as a surprise to my parents. They thought they were past childbearing years when I was conceived. The brother just older than me, the one
Eadric has captured, has seen sixty-one summers. My eldest brother is two hundred and eighty summers.’

All right then, Kit – ask questions you’re not quite prepared to have answered. ‘Two hundred and eighty summers? That’s old. Old! Like very old.’

‘Not really. My father is over eight hundred summers and my mother is just over five hundred. There was some scandal when they decided to get married. The Courts expected my father to take
someone nearer his own age to wife but when they met, it was love at first sight.’

‘How did they meet?’ I ask, expecting to be told of some exquisite Cinderella ball, but Thorn’s grin as he turns to me tells me I couldn’t be more wrong. ‘My mother
rode as a competitor in a tourney to celebrate the first centenary of my father’s rule over Alba. It was a big festival with knights from all seven realms. The feasting and jousting went on
for weeks. And during that time, my mother beat everyone she rode against. She was crowned champion at the end of the event and when my father handed her the winner’s crown, she laid down her
sword at his feet and declared herself to him.’

‘By declare you mean she told him she loved him?’ I can’t keep the surprise out of my voice. Gutsy lady!

Thorn nods and grins. ‘It was a huge risk. They had only met a few times, had never really spent time alone together and yet they had fallen in love so passionately that my mother risked
exile from Alba by declaring herself in front of all his subjects.’

‘She placed all her trust in him,’ I say, feeling sick. ‘He could have turned away, told her that he didn’t feel the same way.’

‘He could have, but he didn’t. He accepted her public declaration, went down on one knee and offered her his sword in return. They were married the next summer.’

Thorn’s mum sounded insanely cool and frightening. If she rode in a tourney, it meant she was as tough and strong as any of Alba’s knights. Not quite the image I had for the High
Queen of Alba.

‘Was it only the age thing that worried your Courts?’

‘No. My mother was the daughter of a poor nobleman from a small island off the coast of Greenland.’ Thorn frowned. ‘When she came to court, to be with my father, she brought
nothing with her except for a handful of storm-swept islands, a group of fierce warriors and their families. The warriors – they are called Stormborn – refused to acknowledge my father
and only took orders from my mother. Of course, rumours started at Court. Most of them were that she was going to kill my father and take the throne. Now and again this rumour would start all over
again.’ He sighs impatiently. ‘Any fool with eyes and a heart has only to be in their presence for five minutes to realize how dedicated they are to each other. Shortly after they were
married my mother surprised an assassin sent to kill him and almost died when she was stabbed. The blade was poisoned and death kept her company for two weeks before Istvan found the cure and
brought her back.’

‘You spoke about Istvan before. Who is he?’ How long have I known Thorn now, I wonder, keeping my eyes on the road as we drive. Two, three days? The time we’ve spent together
feels sort of meshed into a tangle of conversations, little sleep and fights, so it’s hard to be subjective but I still find it strange listening to him talk about his family and his life in
the Otherwhere.

‘Istvan’s been part of our family for many years. His father sent him to be fostered by mine when he was only a baby. He grew up with my brothers and has become one of my
father’s closest confidants.’ He gives a wry smile. ‘But whereas my father is all about the future and the Fae presence in both worlds, Istvan is about our glory days and our
past. I sometimes think my father forgets about us, that we need his attention, and so Istvan was the one we went to when we fought or got caught raiding the kitchen gardens or when we were
observed kissing a girl.’ He clears his throat and flushes. ‘Not me, obviously, but my brother Kieran, so I’m told.’

Worried that things are turning a bit maudlin, I keep my voice light. ‘All of this sounds officially insane. Your mum sounds amazing. She must not have been happy about the rumours when
she married your dad.’

‘Oh, about her trying to take over as high king? There are plenty more stories to choose from. The one that’s always been my favourite is that my mum is dragon-kin. She has no small
ability controlling fire, which of course makes for lots of gossip.’

‘And is it bad being dragon-kin?’ I try not to think of the golden scales shining beneath his skin or the animal wildness in his eyes I remember from the chimera fight.

‘Fae cannot be with other creatures,’ he tells me, after a short painful pause. It takes me a few seconds to realize what he means by
be
and my eyebrows climb up in surprise.
I shoot him a wild look and his expression is one of discomfort. Something in his voice, apart from the fact that we are talking about sex and procreating, makes me listen carefully. ‘It is
forbidden. There are records going back thousands of years showing that unions with other races create terrifying monsters. You call them freaks of nature. So of course you can imagine how much fun
they had at Court when Eadric chose to pick on me as the downfall of the kingdom. The rumours about dragon-kin were raised once more and my one hereditary title that comes with being the seventh
son of the seventh son took on a whole new meaning.’

I lift my hands off the steering wheel. ‘You lost me; I don’t know any of your titles.’

‘Oh.’ He waves airily, the gesture contrasting heavily with his serious expression. ‘I have a great many – most of them don’t mean much. But the one that gives
ammunition to those at Court looking for something to cause trouble over is “Voice of the Dragon”.’

‘Really? It’s a bit pompous, isn’t it?’

His wry look makes me laugh. ‘I’m a Sidhe noble. We thrive on pompous.’

We’ve been driving for what seems hours, deeper and deeper into the Cairngorms without it getting darker, when Thorn points out of the window. I know the place is big,
with its forests, mountains, lochs and rivers, but I’m pretty sure we’ve somehow driven into a pocket between the worlds where it seems to be perpetually damp and twilight.

‘We’re here.’

I look at the direction he points in and I laugh incredulously. An armoured warrior astride a horse the colour of darkest midnight is racing across the valley to intercept Olga’s car ahead
of us. They spot the rider too and slow down, bringing the car to a halt in the middle of the road. We stop just behind them and Thorn gets out of the car, pulling on his new padded coat. I follow
him as I button up my own coat and go stand next to Olga and Aiden, who looks surprisingly subdued in the presence of the giant warrior mounted on one of the biggest horses I’ve ever seen.
The image in my mind of wisp-thin beautiful warriors on ethereal horses prancing in twin columns along a forest road is banished. This warrior is larger than life and his horse is the size of a
truck as they loom over us.

My breath plumes white in front of me, as if I’m exhaling cigarette smoke, and I dig my hands deeper into my coat pockets, squishing my shoulders up against the cutting wind. I huddle next
to Olga, who’s only wearing a light sweater and jeans, and she puts an arm around me, giving me a quick squeeze.

The rider, in full moulded blackened armour, complete with horned great helm, sits unmoving in the middle of the road. He has a red pennant tied to his lance and for a second I see the strong
black outline of a lion rampant on the field of red before the wind ruffles the pennant, curling it back on itself.

‘Corash, one of my mother’s personal guards,’ Thorn says over his shoulder. He steps forward, moving to stand before the giant warrior astride his equally monstrous-looking
horse. They face each other for the longest moment, just staring at each other, before the mounted warrior shifts in his saddle.

‘Your highness?’ The voice is muffled but I can hear the surprise in the warrior’s voice. ‘Thorn?’

Thorn says something that sounds lilting and amused in his language and the warrior chuckles. He raises a gauntleted hand and lifts the visor, revealing a craggy face and dark eyes.

‘Your mother will be pleased to have you safely back with her.’ He leans down and grips Thorn’s wrist, clapping him firmly on the shoulder. I’m impressed that Thorn takes
the greeting without falling over. ‘Boy, you led us a merry chase.’

‘At least I am here now,’ Thorn says. ‘How are my parents, Corash?’

‘They are well, my prince. Your mother is seething, your father is brooding.’ His smile is wide, revealing strong white teeth against a shaggy beard and tanned skin. He turns to look
at us, his glance brief, definitely dismissive, and I have to admit that as a group we don’t look all that impressive. ‘These are the companions you brought with you? Then they too are
welcome.’ His bow is perfunctory, attesting to good manners. Even if he doesn’t think much of us, he isn’t about to insult Thorn by saying so. ‘Your vehicles will be able to
travel some of the distance to the camp at least. Follow me.’

‘Corash, before we go on, can you tell me if the Blackharts and the wolves are with my father?’

I catch hold of Olga’s arm and she puts a comforting arm round me as I await the answer, my heart thudding in my chest.

‘They are. Worse for wear in some instances, but then they aren’t Fae trained.’ His grin indicates a joke and I close my eyes for a second in relief. ‘Come. They were
told of your arrival some hours ago. We have warm tents and food ready.’ Aiden shares my look of relief as we turn and pile back into both cars. Corash leads us off the road and the Fae still
arriving to join the camp make way for him, paying deference to the queen’s emissary by dipping their heads.

‘What do you think he means by them being the worse for wear?’ I ask Thorn after a few seconds.

‘Corash likes to tease. He is the joker of the Stormborn family.’ He surveys the camp speculatively. ‘I don’t know what he means, though. Maybe they’ve been in a
battle or two?’

‘At least they’re here,’ I say, feeling my shoulders relax for the first time in days. ‘I don’t know what I would have done if we’d got here and there was no
sign of them.’

‘I know.’ His voice is low. ‘And you’ll be reunited soon enough. You’ve come to the end of your journey.’

I grin and nod. ‘And you’re back with your mum and dad.’

His smile’s not as bright as I would have expected, but I put it out of my mind as I concentrate on not overturning Lolita on the bumpy field. Not only is she able to corner like a dream
on a tarmac road, but it feels as if she has inbuilt HGV suspension, or maybe that’s just Megan’s magic mechanic abilities.

The valley below us is the size of around eight football pitches and is packed with neat rows of thousands of tents. There’s a parade ground to one side, where armoured soldiers are doing
various drills. I watch for a second, mesmerized by their coordination. Even from up here we can hear the clash of weapons against shields as they form an impenetrable wall of armour and steel.

Cooking fires are lit across the field and the scent of baking bread and stew teases my growling stomach. The wind snaps at hundreds of multicoloured pennants. And, with the light coming from
the fires, and lanterns along the walkways, the camp exudes a festive air.

Next to me, Thorn points to the middle of the camp and I spot a pavilion that dwarfs the others. The fluttering pennants flying above it display a gryphon outlined on a field of white.

‘My parents’ tent,’ he says needlessly.

Corash gestures that this is as far as we go by car but instead of escorting us further, he canters off – his task fulfilled, I guess.

As I get out of the car I’m unable to look away from the expanse of tents below. It looks like the Roman army encampments I’ve seen depicted in books, only far, far bigger than
anything I could have imagined. The sheer scale is breathtaking and terrifying, as is the thought of so many laying their lives on the line. In the age of the Xbox, I have forgotten how much more
personal war involving hand-to-hand combat has to be.

Then a wave of sound echoes down the valley, and my magic surfaces and wraps around me in response. I feel lifted by it, my heart filling with excitement.

‘They’re using powerful magics,’ Olga says. ‘If you look, you can see they’ve forced a portal open in the Veil – the barrier that separates our world and the
Otherwhere. Look. You can see the sorcerers over there.’