FROST CHILD (Rebel Angels) (6 page)

And the blunt fact is, I was worried.

I chose a warm bright morning to go out looking for him, the kind of morning no-one could resist. On a day like this, anyone in his right mind would long for home and for happiness; anyone would swallow his fear and his pride and bow to the inevitable, get the worst of his homecoming over with. Or at least, he would be tempted to.  If I could meet him halfway, drawn from whatever cave he was hiding in by the smell of new wildflowers and the glittering sea, I could bring him home to face us all. The world never looks so bad on such a day.

I left my sword behind as well as my coat; a rare thing for me to do, but that was the atmosphere in the sky and the breeze. The closest caverns of any depth were about two miles to the north of the dun; however the seas raged, however hard the storms whipped the waves against the cliff, in the blackest depths of those rock-holes there was always dry sand and safety. It seemed the obvious place to begin my hunt; and only after I’d checked them thoroughly would I search the bleakest furthest edges of the moor. I didn’t see the point of prolonging this, and I was confident I’d find the boy.

Instead, I found Lilith.

I called her name, and rode down the narrow gully in the rocks onto the hard sand. She waved, but didn’t get to her feet to greet me. The reason was quickly obvious: the kelpie-colt lay on the sand beside her, its forelegs tucked beneath it, its newly-bridled head resting peacefully in her lap. When I dismounted and walked the last few yards – my horse refused to go a single step closer to its oh-so-distant cousin – Lilith glanced up, her grin impish, her face flushed with delight.

‘Look!’ she whispered. ‘I’ve tamed him!’

‘Yes,’ I marvelled. ‘You have.’

For all I knew of kelpies and for all I knew of witches, there was something innocent and delightful about the scene. She was a ragged little wild thing, dark and intense; it was a crafty brute with a relentless thirst for flesh; but all I could think of as I watched them was old paintings of maidens and unicorns.

She stroked its head in wonder, tugging at its ears, combing its silky forelock with her fingers. And suddenly I was more than accepting; I was glad that after the terrible end of Dornadair, and her inconsolable desolation in the days afterwards, she’d found another companion.

‘He’s very beautiful,’ I smiled. ‘Make sure he’s fully tame before you bring him near the dun.’

‘Of course I will. Thank you, Griogair!’ She bent her head to the kelpie again, crooning, and reached for her pouch, drawing out a small chunk of meat. The creature shifted its head to take it delicately from her hand, gulping it down before taking her second offering. She stroked it as she fed it, caressing its cheekbone, its neck, its gills.

I don’t know why the first shiver of cold certainty rippled across my skin; perhaps it was her contentment, the utter obliteration of her grief; perhaps it was the realisation that she and her little bow had graduated to bigger game. The chunks of flesh she fed it were torn from something far larger than a pigeon, and as the kelpie nickered, peeling back its upper lip to sniff for more treats, I saw tiny threads of woven fabric caught on its canine teeth.

I snatched for the next morsel as Lilith took it from her pouch, but she held it away from me, shaking her head solemnly, and gave it to the creature. I was certain there were strands of wiry black hair stuck to the meat.

‘It’s better if I feed him,’ she said. ‘For now.’

‘Lilith.’ The blood in my veins was snow-water. ‘Have you seen anything of Ramasg? I thought he might be in the caves.’

She looked over her shoulder, very calmly, at the slit of darkness that was the first cave mouth. I almost thought I could hear the cliff breathing; I shook off the fancy.

Everything she said was not quite a lie, and not quite the truth. That was what I’d thought the day I first met her; that was what I thought again the day I said goodbye to her, lifting her onto the bay pony’s back.

At least, I tried to lift her; but she clung to me, her eyes wide and tearless but her grip tight enough to crush my spine. I turned helplessly to Leonora, who reached out a hand to the child.

‘Come along, now. You’ll like Kate, I promise.’

Lilith wouldn’t look at her.

With a sigh, the queen herself dismounted, signalling her two escorts to stay on their horses. She came over to Lilith, who remained pressed to me, and she crouched close beside her, making the girl meet her eyes.

‘You’ll be happy with me,’ she promised. ‘I’ll make sure of it.’

Her pale hand stroked the child’s cheek gently, rhythmically, till at last Lilith’s eyes seemed to focus, staring hard into the queen’s. Many a grown Sithe had flinched under that gaze, but Kate didn’t.

And when she wanted or needed to be, Kate was simply enchanting. I’d seen my monarch many times; I had spoken to her, laughed with her, argued with her, carried out her wishes; and still, every time I saw her my gaze could only linger. Her tall paleness; her intense amber eyes; the summer sunlight striking flakes of gold from her chestnut hair. I did not love her, except as my queen, but more than enough people did; and the adoration she inspired had kept her on the throne for centuries. There was no-one her equal, no-one to compete with her; or no-one, I thought with a glance at Leonora, who had the desire to do so. 

‘Give her to me, Griogair.’ Kate smiled at Lilith, running a hand through her hair.

‘Not me that’s holding onto her,’ I muttered dryly. But even as I said it, I felt the child’s grip loosen very slightly.

‘You know well I’ll take care of you,’ said Kate. ‘Don’t you, Lilith?’

The girl hesitated, then nodded.

‘And you know you can’t stay here. You know that, after what you did.’

She nodded again, silent, though her expression was without shame or remorse.

‘Griogair doesn’t want you to go.’ Kate slipped her fingers into Lilith’s behind my back. ‘But he has no choice. He can’t keep you here. I’m sure you can come back when you’re grown. In fact, I
promise
you can. I’ll bring you back to Griogair in a few years. Yes?’

Lilith looked up at me, studying my face for the longest time. And then, at last, her arms slipped reluctantly from around me, and Kate brought her hand forward, their fingers entwined.

‘I’ll miss you,’ I said truthfully, as Kate stood up and put an arm round Lilith’s shoulders.

The girl only nodded. Niall Mor brought the pony around once more, and this time I lifted Lilith onto it with no effort. Kate sprang lightly onto her own dappled mare.

‘It’s for the best, Fitheach,’ murmured Leonora, clasping my hand in hers. ‘It’s all we can do. The clann won’t tolerate the child now.’

Lilith had turned back to watch us as the escorts led the way out of the gate, and her unnerving gaze met Leonora’s. I can’t say for certain that anything passed between them, but I’d swear they Saw each other properly for the first time, and that words were exchanged.

Something twitched at the corner of Leonora’s mouth as we watched them ride away, something that might have been a smile.

‘And the kelpie?’ she asked, as the gates swung shut behind Lilith and the queen.

‘Gone,’ put in Niall. ‘Nobody’s seen it since... Well. Since that.’

‘It’ll come back to her.’ Leonora sounded not entirely unsatisfied.

‘So long as it doesn’t come back here,’ muttered Niall as he walked away.

‘He’s right.’ I put an arm round Leonora. ‘So I don’t like the look in your eye.’

She shook her head thoughtfully. ‘The child went about things in a bad way, but she wasn’t
wrong
. She’s a witch but she’s also a Sithe. We were closer to the water horses, once.’

I rubbed my temple. ‘I
knew
I didn’t like the look in your eye.’

‘Then don’t ask me questions.’ She smiled and kissed me. ‘And you needn’t be so regretful, Griogair. It’s true; she’ll return when she’s older. And I’ll bring you news of her when I go to Kate’s dun in the autumn.’

‘The autumn?’ I frowned. ‘If you’re leaving me again so soon, you owe me some time.’ I tightened my arm around her waist, suddenly longing for her. Leonora, Rochoill, destroyer of all my sadness.

‘I know I am.’ Her smile was a touch smug, making me laugh. ‘I’ll see you at sunset.’

‘So long?’ I was hungrily disappointed, but I knew there was no point arguing. It would be all the sweeter for a delay, anyway. ‘Where are you going now?’
~ Rochoill?

But she had already shuttered her mind as she flicked me a last amused glance.

‘To the shoreline, Griogair, my love,’ and her voice was already a bewitching lilt. ‘Down to the sea to sing.’

~ * ~