The Seven Year King (The Faerie Ring #3) (20 page)

“O’course I do. It was St. Cuthbert’s well, up north,” Ailléna whispered. “We used to play there often. The manor house where the mortal ran is called Edenhall.”

“Edenhall?” Rieker said in surprise. “That’s up in Cumbria. It’s the Musgrave estate. My father knew the family well. As a boy, he used to spend summers up north. He and Sir Musgrave were fast friends.”

The little goblin shook her head, a miserable expression on her face. “You’ll never get it back. The mortals call the cup their Luck now. The Luck of Edenhall.”

Chapter Twenty-Six

T
iki and Rieker left the next morning for Cumbria. They drove through Northhampton and Coventry, on to Birmingham and Stoke-on-Trent, the English countryside a serene mask that hid the volatile life on the other side of the veil in the Otherworld. On the third day, as they approached the north country, they stopped in Blackpool on the coast. It had been years since Tiki had seen the sea, having only traveled with her parents when she was very young. She took her shoes off and walked along the sandy beach.

“The water is so immense,” she murmured, watching the waves rolling into the shore. “It looks like it goes on forever.”

“That’s the Isle of Man,” Rieker pointed to an island in the middle of the Irish Sea. “Have you heard of it?” At Tiki’s nod, he continued. “Loads of faerie stories over there. They’ve even got a faerie bridge or two.” He was silent for a moment, staring across the water. “My father traveled up to this area as a boy and then, later, as a young man. I wonder if this is where he met Breanna?”

Tiki gazed in the direction Rieker was looking. The island was far enough away that it appeared to be a mountain rising out of the sea. It was the first time he’d mentioned Breanna, since learning the truth of his heritage—that he and Dain were the sons of the mortal father Rieker had always known and a faerie named Breanna. Upon Breanna’s death at their birth, Rieker had returned to London with his father, while Dain had remained in the Otherworld to be raised by a faerie named Kieran.

“I’m sure we can find out more information about Breanna,” Tiki said softly.

Rieker’s lips twisted in a bitter smile. “From Larkin, no doubt.”

IT WAS LATE afternoon when they reached Cumbria. Tiki ached all over from being jostled in the carriage for three days straight. However, they had agreed they wouldn’t waste time checking into an inn when they arrived, but instead, would go straight to Edenhall. The faster they could retrieve the cup, the faster they could return to the Otherworld to help Johnny and then focus on how to free Dain.

“Edenhall is lovely,” Tiki murmured as they drew near the estate.

A chuckle escaped Rieker’s lips. “That’s not Edenhall. That’s simply the entrance lodge.” He pointed. “The estate is still a mile up the road.”

Rolling expanses of green lawns stretched before them as they drove and Tiki watched with a growing sense of amazement. “One family owns all this?”

Rieker shrugged. “It’s not uncommon.”

“Not uncommon for you,” Tiki snorted. “Uncommon for the rest of us.” Just then, they rounded a corner and the grand façade of Edenhall stood before them. “Good lord,” Tiki breathed, “it’s like a bloody palace. How are we going to convince them to give us something they consider to be their source of luck?”

“We’re not going to convince them,” Rieker replied. “We’re going to steal it—” a smile twisted the corners of his mouth— “and they’re never going to know.”

“YOUNG WILLIAM? IS that really you?” Sir Musgrave entered the foyer, his smile a mixture of curiosity and disbelief. “When Harold announced William Richmond for a moment I thought it was your father.” He heaved a longing sigh. “How I miss the old chap—” he lowered his voice— “
and
the adventures we used to share. Middle-age is such a bore.”

He shook Rieker’s hand and beamed. “I haven’t seen you since you were a boy and look at you now—a young man of the world. Handsome, just like your father.” He tilted his head to the side as he appraised Rieker. “With a bit of a devilish streak, I daresay, if you’re anything like old Will.” He clapped Rieker on the shoulder and shifted his attention to Tiki. “And who might this delightful creature be?”

“Tara Dunbar, sir.” Rieker slid his hand behind Tiki’s back. “Someone of great importance to me.”

Sir Musgrave raised his eyebrows as he took Tiki’s hands. “That’s quite an introduction. You must be a special young lady to have captured Lord Richmond’s heart so steadfastly.”

“That she is, Sir, more than you can ever imagine.” Rieker’s lips quirked in a half grin and Tiki’s cheeks grew warm.

“Hmmm… how fascinating. I shall have to get to know you better, Miss Dunbar and perhaps I’ll fall victim to your magical spell, as well.” He proffered an arm to Tiki. “I’m afraid Mrs. Musgrave has taken the children and gone to London for a fortnight, so you two are stuck with me. Come along and join me in the drawing room and let’s catch up. I’m dying to hear what you’re doing in this neck of the woods. Cumbria is a fair jaunt from London.”

THEY MOVED INTO an elegantly appointed drawing room and Sir Musgrave rang for tea. Within minutes a servant arrived with tea and biscuits, along with a pitcher of water and several beautiful crystal goblets.

As Tiki listened to the older man chatter on, her eyes strayed over the contents of the room. The walls were graced with paintings of English hunting scenes and lined with bookshelves full to the brim but there was nothing that resembled a magical cup. What if Ailléna had been mistaken? Were they wasting their time when both Johnny’s and Dain’s lives were at stake?

“The Luck, you say?” Sir Musgrave boomed in a hearty voice in response to Rieker’s question. “I’m not surprised your father mentioned it. The two of us looked for those faeries who left it behind for more hours than I care to admit.” He pushed his hefty girth from the chair and strode across the room. “I’m afraid the Luck’s a well-known secret, but we keep it locked up, just to be safe.” He turned and in a dramatic fashion, held one finger to his lips and Tiki had to work to hold back a giggle. “There are very few who I would trust enough to show our Luck—but since you’re Will’s son—come along.”

He picked up a lamp and led them from the grand drawing room, through a lofty hallway, taking several turns until he reached a small, winding hallway toward the back of the mansion. Tiki followed, one of the crystal water goblets clutched in her hand and hidden within the folds of her skirt—just in case she had an opportunity to glamour the goblet to look like the cup and perform a switch. Their host led them down a back stairway to an even smaller hallway, talking the entire time.

“Quite a history with this Luck—it’s said the faeries left it behind while they were playing in the well at St. Cuthbert’s….” He held the lamp high to navigate the dark space. “They were startled when my ancestor’s servants chanced upon them and they ran for it, forgetting the cup.”

They wound their way through the dim light until the older man finally stopped before a plank door reinforced with iron ribs and supporting a great black lock. “By the time they’d realized they’d forgotten the thing, it was too late—the butler had picked it up and claimed the cup for his own. The story goes the faeries were spittin’ mad. One of them even yelled out
‘if this Luck should break or fall—farewell the luck of Edenhall.’
”

Sir Musgrave pulled a heavy round of keys from his pocket and carefully separated one long ornate key from the rest. “So we’ve been protecting it ever since—partly because we’re afraid they’ll be coming back for it.” The older man laughed as he gave the keys a rattle. “I carry these with me every day.” He lowered his voice to a loud whisper. “Even sleep with them under my pillow.” He winked at Tiki. “I’ve already instructed my son to retrieve the keys first before reviving me should I keel over one day. One can never be too cautious with the mood of Lady Luck.”

The old metal lock groaned as it gave way beneath the teeth of the silver key and Sir Musgrave pushed the door open. They entered a small room that reminded Tiki of a root cellar. Shelves lined the walls but they were empty save for one. Displayed alone, centered on an end shelf, stood a tall glass goblet. Sir Musgrove stopped before the glass cup and held up his lamp. Brilliant blues, yellows, and golden gilding reflected the lamplight in a dazzling display of color.

“Here she is,” Sir Musgrave said, almost reverently. “The Luck of Edenhall. We’ve had her in the family for well over two hundred years now.”

Tiki’s heart skipped a beat. This was it. This was what Larkin had said they needed to save Johnny. Surely, the Musgrave’s wouldn’t mind if they borrowed the cup for a week or two? Especially, if they didn’t know it was gone. But how could they possibly get the Luck out of this little room without being seen?

THEY DIDN’T STAY with the Luck for long.

“There you have it,” Sir Musgrave said, ushering them back out again. “Safe and sound, she is. I’m glad you mentioned it, I hadn’t checked on that little beauty in quite some time.”

“Quite striking,” Rieker said, making eye contact with Tiki over Sir Musgrave’s back as the older man bent to lock the door. “Thank you for letting us see the cup. Are you the only one who can grant access?”

“I am. Most people don’t even know where we’ve hidden her.” He slid the keys into his jacket and patted the pocket. “Yes, indeed. You have to go through me to get to the Luck of Edenhall.”

WITH LITTLE ARM-TWISTING, Sir Musgrave convinced them to spend the night at the estate. Over dinner he regaled them with stories of Rieker’s father.

“That old Will,” Sir Musgrave chuckled, a glass of wine clutched in his hand, “how he loved adventure.” The older man’s belly strained against the brass buttons of his white vest as he leaned back in his chair and sipped on yet another glass of wine. “He loved the faerie stories in these parts. ‘Course we’re thick with them here in Cumbria, as we’ve all grown up with tales of the
“tylwyth teg”
or fair ones. But for some reason, Will believed more than most. He was always keen to go up to Hardknott Pass and look for the rath of King Eveling and he’d spend hours exploring Elva Hill.”

“Elva Hill?” Tiki asked.

“A faerie hill that’s supposed to hide a gateway to the Otherworld.” The older man sobered. “It’s up near Bassenthwaite Lake, just north of here.” He shook his head. “Couldn’t catch me up there past dark, but Will loved that area. Said it made him feel close to something bigger than England. He’d disappear for days at a time.”

“Did he ever tell you he’d met a faerie?” Rieker asked.

To Tiki’s surprise, Sir Musgrave didn’t laugh. Instead, he squinted at Rieker long and hard, as if debating something. He drained his glass of wine before he spoke.

“He did tell me something strange once. I’ve never forgotten it.” Sir Musgrave gazed into the distance, over Rieker’s head. “He’d just returned from a ‘jaunt’, as he liked to call them. He’d lost weight but he had a glow about him, like I’d never seen him before—triumphant, almost. He said, ‘
I’ve found it, Harry. I’ve found the gate
.’” The older man paused as he refilled his glass. “He never told me what gate he’d found, even when I pestered him for more information. In fact, he never spoke of the matter again, but I’ve always wondered, what
exactly
he meant that day.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

“H
ow are we possibly going to get those keys?” Tiki murmured while Sir Musgrave excused himself to use the facilities. “He bloody well sleeps with them under his pillow!”