Ivy's Choice (The Fey Quartet Book 3) (6 page)

Hazel halted.

Hugh halted, too. He stood with his legs splayed, his body shaking, his head hanging lopsided. He heaved his lungs so that breath whistled from his mouth, and rolled his eyes, and examined the three men looking at him: Tam, his face drawn and worried; Cadoc, bearded and equally worried; and Aleyn, staring intently at him.

Tam. Cadoc
. Emotion squeezed his ribcage. It took all his willpower not to tear free and run to them.

“It’s a man? Are you certain?” Tam came closer and went down on one knee. He looked more serious than Hugh had ever seen him. No levity on his face today, just deep worry.

Hugh’s ribcage squeezed even tighter.
Tam
. He rolled his eyes wildly again, dropped one hip, and canted to the left.

“Yes. Larkspur was able to tell that much,” Ivy said. “But she can’t tell who he is. He’s quite mad, poor thing. Being in our cottage distressed him. He’s much calmer in the forest.”

Tam reached out to touch him.

Hugh wanted to lean into his brother’s hand; he made himself flinch and half-rear, almost tugging the rope from Hazel’s grip.

Tam lowered his hand and clenched it on his knee. “It’s not Hugh, is it?” His voice was low and controlled, but Hugh heard the fear in it.

“We don’t know who he is,” Ivy said. “Larkspur can’t tell.”

Tam looked up at Hazel. He swallowed, and moistened his lips. “Can
you
tell if it’s Hugh?”

“My gift can’t find Hugh,” Hazel said. “He’s . . . gone. Nowhere.”

Hugh rolled his eyes again. He saw grim compassion on Cadoc’s face—and glee on Aleyn’s.

“There must be some way of returning him to his true form,” Ivy said.

Tam stood. “Not necessarily. If this is a punishment laid on him by the Fey, it’s unbreakable.”

“Could it not be a spell cast by a human?” Ivy asked.

“Cast by whom?” Tam shook his head, and turned to Cadoc and Aleyn. “We’ll take him back to Dapple Meadow, though I doubt anything can be done for him.”

“But if it
is
a spell, he
could
be returned to his true form?” Ivy persisted.

“Probably,” Tam said. “But it’s not a spell. Who could have cast it? No, it’s a Faerie punishment.” He looked at Hugh, and sighed. “What did you do to deserve this, poor creature?”

Nothing.

Hugh shuddered and rolled his eyes wildly. Cadoc still looked grimly compassionate. Aleyn looked smug.

“It’s so sad,” Hazel said. She leaned against Tam.

Tam hugged her.

Hazel whispered something in his ear and stepped back.

Tam gave her a sharp glance, and turned to Cadoc and Aleyn. “We’re getting nowhere here. Go back to Dapple Bend, both of you, get us beds at the alehouse, see if you can hire a wagon. We’ll take this creature back to Dapple Meadow tomorrow.”

Cadoc nodded gravely and turned to go.

“I’ll stay with you,” Aleyn said.

“No, no,” Tam waved him off. “There’s no point. Go.”

Aleyn hesitated, and glanced at Hugh.

Hugh rolled his eyes, and stood splay-legged and askew, chest heaving, shaking as hard as he could.
I’m mad. Quite mad
.

Aleyn shrugged, and followed Cadoc.

When both men were gone from sight, Tam swung to face Hazel. “What did you mean, get rid of Aleyn and Cadoc?”

Hugh straightened and stopped shaking.

“Just that,” Hazel said, slipping the halter from Hugh’s neck. “Tam, the roebuck’s not mad; he’s just pretending.”

“Pretending?” Tam directed a fierce, suspicious frown at Hugh. “Hazel, what’s going on?”

“This is Hugh.”

Tam’s face drained utterly. “Hugh?
No!
”

“He’s not mad,” Hazel repeated firmly. “He was pretending.”

There were tears in Tam’s eyes, and pale horror on his face. He lurched to his knees and held his arms out.

Hugh went to him, butting his head into Tam’s chest.
Tam, Tam.

Tam hugged him fiercely. “Hugh? Oh, gods,
Hugh
.”

Hugh closed his eyes and leaned into his brother. Tam’s chest was shaking, his breath hitching.
He’s crying?
He tried to burrow closer to Tam, tried to climb into his lap.
Don’t cry, Tam. Please, don’t cry!

“It was Aleyn,” a thin, breathless voice said.

Tam’s grip slackened slightly. “What?”

“It was Aleyn.”

Hugh looked out from under Tam’s arm. Larkspur stood at the edge of the bluebell dell. Her face was deathly pale. She leaned against Bartlemay, looking close to collapse.

Our distress is her distress
. Hugh tried to control his agitation.

“Hazel, get her away from here,” Ivy said.

Hazel ran to obey, looping an arm around her sister’s waist, taking her weight. “Come on, love,” she murmured.

“I can carry her,” Tam said, scrambling to his feet, one hand still gripping Hugh.

“No,” Ivy said.

Tam swung to face her. Tear tracks were wet on his face. “She can barely wal
k—
”

“Your emotions are hurting her. You’re too upset. She needs to get
away
from you.”

Tam closed his mouth. He inhaled a shaking breath, visibly trying to control himself.

THEY MADE A
slow procession back to the cottage: Tam Dappleward, the roebuck, and herself. Ivy explained matters as best she could. Tam walked with his hand on the roebuck’s neck, his expression growing grimmer with each step he took. “I’ll kill Aleyn for this,” he said, when Ivy had finished, and there was such murderous rage on his face—jaw clenched, nostrils flared—that she believed him.

“Not yet,” Ivy said, placing her hand on his arm. “You mustn’t do anything, Tam. Wait until Larkspur’s told us what she learned. Wait until you’ve spoken to Hugh.”

A muscle jumped in Tam’s jaw. He inhaled a harsh breath—and released it slowly. His jaw unclenched, but anger still burned in his eyes. “Midnight to dawn? Is that correct?”

“Come an hour after midnight. Your brother’s transformation is . . . unpleasant. If you witness it, you’ll be upset. Too upset to be in the same room as Larkspur afterwards.”

Tam’s jaw tightened again. After a moment, he said, “Larkspur’s coming?”

“She has pledged to.”

They came to the edge of Glade Forest. Ahead, the cottage nestled in the meadow. Low evening sunlight cast long shadows and tinted the grass golden.

Ivy halted. “When Larkspur comes, you must control your emotions, regardless of what she tells us. Your anger and distress hurt her. She’s very close to breaking.”

“Hazel told me.” Tam turned to her. The anger was gone from his face; in its place was concern. “I’m so sorry, Ivy. If there’s anything I or my father can do to hel
p—
”

Ivy smiled reassuringly at him. “Thank you, but there’s no need. In three days, the gift will be taken from her.”

Tam flicked a brief glance at her crutch, but said nothing.

“Tell Cadoc Ironfist, too, please,” Ivy said, ignoring the glance. “No emotion. You must remain calm.”

“I’ll tell him.” Tam looked across the meadow at the cottage. “We’ll be here one hour after midnight.”

“Take care Aleyn doesn’t wake and follow you.”

“He won’t.” Tam snorted, a contemptuous sound. “Cadoc can drink him under the table without even trying.”

TAM DAPPLEWARD WAS
as good as his word. He and Cadoc Ironfist arrived an hour after midnight. Ivy unlatched the door and let them in. Tam looked past her eagerly. “Hugh?”

Hugh stood, steadying himself on the trestle table, one blanket knotted around his waist, a second draped over his shoulders. “Tam?” he said hoarsely.

Tam brushed past Ivy, stumbling in his haste. Ironfist entered more slowly, ducking his head. When he straightened to his full height, he loomed in the room, his head almost touching the ceiling. His face was tough and craggy beneath the close-cropped beard.

The brothers hugged for a long time. Tam, when he released Hugh, was unashamedly weeping. Ironfist then stepped forward and embraced Hugh. Ivy was astonished to see that his eyes were damp, too.
Not as tough as he looks
.

“Aleyn?” Hugh asked, sitting again.

“We left him snoring.” Tam sat alongside Hugh and gripped his hand.

Side by side, the similarities between the brothers were obvious. They had the same height, the same lean muscularity, the same high-bridged nose, but Hugh’s jaw was wider than Tam’s, his cheekbones blunter, his hair black instead of honey brown. His eyebrows were strong, dark slashes. The combination of jaw, cheekbones, eyebrows, and nose gave his face an innate sternness.

Tam peered around the tiny room, and glanced at the door to the bedchamber. “Where’s Hazel?”

“Gone to fetch Larkspur. They’ll be here soon.”

Tam nodded, and turned his attention back to his brother. “You’re thinner.”

Hugh shrugged the comment aside. “How’s Father?”

“Beside himself with worry—and trying not to show it. He wanted to come, but I got down on my knees and begged him not to. He’s been short of breath the last two days. I was afraid if he came I’d lose both of you in one week.” Tam’s grip on Hugh’s hand tightened, his knuckles whitening.

“He thinks I’m dead?”

“He thinks you’ve been called to Faerie. We all did.”

“Faerie?” Hugh’s eyebrows climbed up his forehead. “Me?”

“Aleyn said . . . he told us that a man had ridden up to you both in the forest, mounted on a horse the color of fresh-minted gold. The man had a terrible, cold beauty and his eyes were as black as midnight. One of the Fey, obviously. Aleyn said the man asked you to accompany him—just you, not Aleyn—and that the two of you rode off into Glade Forest. The inference was clear.”

“We searched the woods around Dapple Meadow,” Ironfist said, his voice rumbling deep in his chest. “Found your horse, but no sign of you.”

“Aleyn said you told him you’d be back soon.” Tam’s mouth twisted. “Soon? What does that mean? Especially in Faerie. Everyone knows time runs differently there. Soon could be
years
.”

“Clever of Aleyn,” Hugh said, his voice dispassionate.

“Very.” Tam’s mouth twisted again. “I was setting out to fetch Hazel, when she arrived. I asked her to find you—and she couldn’t. You were nowhere on this earth, Hugh.
Nowhere
. She couldn’t find you alive
or
dead. We took it to mean you truly were in Faerie.” Tam paused, swallowed, and continued: “When Hazel told us about the roebuck . . . I didn’t know whether to hope it was you or not. Dapple Bend’s so far from Dapple Meadow, it seemed unlikely, but . . .”

Ironfist’s rough-hewn brow furrowed in a frown. “How did you get here, Hugh? It’s all of thirty miles.”

“I ran. I think.” Hugh grimaced. “It’s not very clear in my head . . . but I do remember running.”

“He was exhausted when we found him,” Ivy said. “Close to collapse.”

There was silence for a moment. Tam’s face was bleak, Ironfist’s grim. Their rage was palpable. Ivy could almost taste it on her tongue, acrid.

“What I want to know is how Aleyn did it,” Ironfist said harshly. “And how to reverse it.”

“I hope Larkspur can tell us,” Ivy said. “She’ll be here soon. I know you’re both angry, but please try to calm yourselves.”

Ironfist gave a flat laugh. “Angry? Yes.” He unclenched his huge fists and blew out a breath. “What shall we discuss instead?”

THE ANGER HAD
almost dissipated by the time Hazel and Larkspur arrived, the hounds crowding on their heels. The small room shrank even further.

Ivy stood and anxiously examined Larkspur’s face.
Are you all right, love?

Larkspur gave a faint nod.

“Crowded in here,” Hazel said. “Bess, Bartlemay—out!”

They sat around the trestle table, elbow to elbow. Ironfist, at the far end, loomed like a giant. His back was to the fire, casting his face in shadow. He looked like an outcrop of rock, not a man.

Ivy clasped Larkspur’s cool, slender fingers. “What can you tell us, love?”

“Aleyn did it, and it’s not just a spell, it’s a . . . a
bargain
.”

Tam’s eyebrows arrowed together in a sharp frown. “A bargain with whom? Or what?”

Larkspur shivered. “Something evil. It’s not fully alive.”

“Not alive?”

“It has no body.”

“Is it in a barrow?” Ironfist asked, leaning forward.

Larkspur shook her head. “Not a barrow; a cavern, deep in the forest. There’s an altar there, with blood on it.”

All three men recoiled. “Dréor,” Tam spat. “He made a bargain with the dréor!”

Ivy saw open-mouthed horror on Hugh’s face.

“What’s the dréor?” Hazel asked.

“A creature that was expelled from Faerie thousands of years ago,” Tam said flatly. “In the old days, men would offer up sacrifices to it in exchange for power. The early Warders couldn’t kill it—it’s a creature of spirit, not flesh—but they managed to bind it. Its cavern became its prison.”

“I’ve never heard of it,” Ivy said, disturbed. She’d always thought Glade Forest was safe.

“Knowledge of the dréor is forbidden. Only the Warder and his most trusted men know where the cavern lies, and they’re under strict orders never to venture there.”

“Aleyn was entrusted with this knowledge?” Ivy asked.

Hugh and Tam exchanged a glance. “I thought not,” Hugh said.

“He had access to the old Warders’ journals. I saw him reading the scrolls often enough,” Ironfist said.

Hugh rubbed a hand over his face. “Yes, he did, didn’t he? The past few months, particularly.” He grimaced, and shook his head. The look on his face—bleak, weary—made Ivy’s heart turn over in her chest. The urge to reach out and touch him was so intense that she curled her fingers into her palms.

“Sacrifices?” Hazel said.

“Human sacrifices.” Ironfist’s gravelly voice made the words sound even more terrible than they were. “Larkspur, please continue. What else did you learn from Aleyn?”

“He hates Hugh and Tam for being the Dappleward heirs, and he hates you for your loyalty and your integrity. He enjoyed seeing Hugh’s suffering. It . . . delighted him.”