The Seven Year King (The Faerie Ring #3) (23 page)

Tiki’s stomach clenched. “What do you mean?”

“This cup is one of the Four Treasures.”

“Don’t riddle us, Larkin,” Rieker snapped. “Be specific for once in your long life. You’ve mention the Four Treasures before. What are they?”

Larkin shot Rieker a dark glare before she spoke softly as if revealing a secret. “The Treasures are the Ring of
Ériu
, the
Cloch na Teamhrach
—the Stone of Tara, and
Corn na bhFuíoll
—
the Cup of Plenty.” She traced her finger over one of the swirls of colored glass. “If this is really the Cup, then you’ve found the first three.” She raised her gaze to Tiki’s face. “That only leaves the fourth…”

“What is the fourth?” Tiki asked, her interest piqued.

“We need to discuss this further, but not here. Let’s go to my study. There are other things I need to discuss with you, as well.” Larkin’s voice tightened in warning. “We can’t let that cup out of our sight. It’s sacred. I’ll have Callan assign a guard to watch it immediately.” She turned and swept to the door. “Come along.”

“Wait!” Tiki cried. “We need to see Johnny first—that’s why we risked our lives to find this bloody thing.” The hours she’d gone without sleep were catching up with her and Larkin’s imperious attitude made her blood boil. Tiki shouted after the faerie as she continued to walk away. “TO SAVE HIS LIFE!”

“Teek?” Fiona’s worried voice called down the hall. “Is that you?”

Tiki jerked around. “Yes Fi, it’s me.” She hurried toward her friend, glad to leave Larkin behind. All the faerie ever did was create trouble. “Rieker and I are both here. How’s Johnny doing?”

Tiki could tell by the drawn and exhausted look on Fiona’s face that the boy was not faring well. Her hair was unwashed, her clothes rumpled and unkempt. Fiona’s eyes were red-rimmed and bleary, as if she hadn’t slept in days.

“I’m doing my best to keep him with us, Teek,” Fiona whispered as they walked back to the room together, “but I’m afraid.” Her voice broke and a small sob escaped. “I don’t think he’s going to make it.”

“Yes, he is, Fiona.” Tiki said, a surge of strength returning. She could go a few more hours without sleep if it might save Johnny’s life. She held the Luck up for Fiona to see. “We’ve found a cup that will help him.”

Fiona stared at the glass goblet. “It’s very pretty, Teek, but are you sure it’ll help?” She sniffed. “He’s in a bad way.”

JOHNNY’S CONDITION WAS shocking. The young boy had deteriorated significantly since Tiki had seen him last. He was so pale, blue veins showed through his skin and his eyes seemed to have sunk into his head. Fiona spoke to him, telling him Tiki was visiting, but there was no response—no indication that the boy was even still alive, save for the shallow rise and fall of his chest.

“See?” Fiona said, looking up at Tiki with tear-filled eyes. “I’m not sure how much longer he’ll last. Larkin was here and even she didn’t know what to do for him.”

Tiki gripped Fiona’s hand. “You have to believe, Fiona.
Believe
he can get well—with all your heart. We have the power to heal him. We need to tell him that—so he believes it, too.”

Rieker joined them next to Johnny’s bed and stared down at the young boy with a grim expression. “Doesn’t seem like the same chap who was such a cocky pickpocket, does it?” he said softly. “I barely recognize him.”

Tiki put her lips close to Johnny’s ear. “I know you can hear me, Johnny, so I want you to pay attention.” Tiki spoke slowly, emphasizing each word, as if to convince herself, as well as Johnny. “You’re a clever boy. You’ve escaped from the bobbies too many times to count. Now, you’re going to escape from Death, as well.”

Tiki watched the boy’s face and for a second she thought she saw an eyelid flicker, but then it was gone and he remained limp and unresponsive. She leaned close again.

“Listen to me, Johnny. I am a faerie queen and I’m going to save your life.” As she said the words ‘faerie queen’ the Jester’s impromptu recital when Tiki had first been introduced to Court flitted through her head. What was it he’d said?
‘Would the prize answer those in need?’

There was no response from the limp figure on the bed.

“What do we do?” Fiona cried.

Tiki motioned at the girl. “Help prop him up, Fi. I’m going to try something.”

Fiona slipped her arm behind Johnny’s shoulders and lifted his emaciated frame. His mouth sagged open as he hung limply in her arms. Tiki put the Luck next to his lips and tilted the glass goblet.

“What are you doing, Teek?” Rieker asked. “There’s nothing in the cup.”

“It’s just a hunch,” Tiki said. “Let’s see what happens.”

At first, there was nothing, then a trickle of green liquid poured from the Luck into Johnny’s mouth.

“Look—” Fiona cried— “there’s water… or…
something
…”

Tiki spoke in a confident tone. “It’s healing—one of the essences of life. It pours from the cup for those in need.”

Fiona looked at Tiki with a dazed expression.

Tiki smiled triumphantly. “The Jester told me.” She leaned closer to the young boy’s ear. “You’re going to get better, Johnny. Drink from this cup and heal your ills. Do you hear me? You’ve got the power now—be well.” She poured until the fluid spilled from the corners of his mouth.

Tiki straightened the cup and watched him intently, looking for a sign that the magic was at work, but Johnny didn’t move a muscle. In fact, he seemed to quit breathing.

“Johnny.” Rieker shook his arm and Johnny’s head flopping back against Fiona’s arm. “Wake up.”

“Tiki—” Fiona’s voice wavered with barely restrained hysteria.

Tiki reached for the young boy’s hand and slipped her fingers around his. Her voice wavered. “Johnny?”

“It’s too late.” Larkin spoke from behind them. As one, they turned to look at the faerie, who stood just inside the door. “The Cup of Plenty can heal the ill, but it can’t bring the dead back to life.” She shrugged. “It was a gamble anyway. Mortals interact with the world of Faerie in different ways than the fey. Who knew if the cup would heal or kill him? I never dreamed you’d find it in the first place.”

A whimper escaped from Fiona’s lips.

“He’s not dead,” Tiki said, though her words were unconvincing.

“He’s mortal—what did you expect?” Larkin’s face was cold. “And even if he had survived, you realize by feeding him faerie drink you risk binding him to life in Faerie forever?”

“No!” Fiona cried. She grabbed Tiki’s arm, a beseeching look on her thin face. “Tell me that’s not true, Tiki.”

“
Now
you tell us?” Rieker spat out.

Tiki straightened her shoulders. “A heart-breaking choice, but a risk worth taking. Better alive in Faerie, than dead forever.” She tightened her grip on Johnny’s hand, wishing she could impart some of her strength to him.

Larkin narrowed her eyes at Tiki and her lips turned in a mocking smile. “You sound like you’ve grown attached to our world. Not thinking of staying, are you?”

“My matters are my own affair, Larkin, and none of your business.”

The smile slid off the faerie’s face. Her lips pressed together as if trying to hold in words she’d like to say. “I’ll send the nurse to take his body,” she finally snapped. “William, if you want to know of your brother, come see me in my study.”

IT TOOK ANOTHER hour before Tiki was convinced that Johnny was truly dead. It took longer than that to convince Fiona to leave his side. Tears streamed down Tiki’s cheeks as she tried to console Fiona, her own exhaustion making it difficult to remain strong for Fi.

The faerie nurse returned and ushered them out the door. “Larkin’s given me instructions to care for your friend,” she said gently. “We have a special place where we let them rest through the cycle of the seasons—before nature reclaims their bodies. Don’t you worry—we’ll take good care of him.”

RIEKER WAS THE one who insisted they go back to London.

“I’ll talk to Larkin later,” he said. “Right now, we need to get Fiona home to Grosvenor Square and care for her. The longer she stays here, the more she’s at risk.”

Tiki’s heart jumped. Home—Clara, Toots, Shamus and Mrs. B—the familiar sights and sounds of London and the security of Grosvenor Square. Nothing sounded better at this moment. She was tired and discouraged. What had all their efforts to find the cup been for, if in the end they’d been unable to save Johnny? Life was as much a struggle here in the Otherworld as it was in London—just with a different set of circumstances.

“I’m sure no one will miss me here. I’m a failure as a queen—I can’t even save those I love,” Tiki said bitterly. “Grosvenor Square is where we all belong—not here.” She slid her arm around Fiona’s shoulders and reached for Rieker’s hand. She whispered the words that would transport them to London and the zagishire shimmered from view.

Chapter Thirty-One

B
ehind the zagishire the
liche
licked the blood of the fey guard’s heart from the corner of his lips. The tough flesh of the middle-aged fey was hardly satisfying, but he’d had to feed.

Voices carried through an open window from the room where Fiona cared for the mortal and the
liche
crept forward to listen. He smiled at the mention of Grosvenor Square. He knew exactly where to find Fiona in London. This time she would not escape.

He froze as a female voice said,
‘I’m a failure as a queen—Grosvenor Square is where we all belong.’
Could he be so lucky?

Chapter Thirty-Two

T
hey arrived back in London inside the coach house at Number Six to minimize any chance they’d be seen upon their return. Night had fallen in the City and the shadows within the small stable were deep and impenetrable. The horses snorted and shuffled in their stalls, spooked at their sudden appearance.

As Tiki, Rieker and Fiona stood in the shaded darkness of the building, chill bumps crawled up Tiki’s arms like invisible spiders. She glanced around, trying to put a finger on what felt off, but everything was in its place: the carriages were parked, the horses were in their stalls, all the paraphernalia associated with buggies and animals was present and neatly organized. Yet there was something… Her eyes probed the gloom accumulated in the corners of the building—searching…but for what?

A dark shadow shifted in an unnatural way from the corner of her eye. One of the horses let out an alarmed snort and stamped nervously in its stall. Tiki searched the darkness. Had it been her imagination?

Rieker followed her line of sight. “What is it?”

“I thought I saw something move over there.” She pointed to a far corner near the doors that led outside.

“Who goes there?” A voice called out. A man, dressed in the garb of a Palace guard, appeared at the door that led out to the alleyway, a spear clutched in his hands, pointed in their direction.

“William Richmond,” Rieker said, walking toward the man. “Owner of this home. And you are?”

The guard peered through the shadows at him. Recognizing Rieker, he relaxed a bit. “Cunningham, sir.”

“What are you doing here?” Rieker asked. “Are one of the princes visiting?”

“No sir. Been ordered to guard the property until your return.” He snapped off a smart salute and lifted his weapon, his back ramrod straight.