“Where’s Daigh?” Arthur growled, his hand rested on the hilt of his sword. His whole body stood rigid, every muscle poised for attack.
“He’s secure,” Ryan said. Clara nodded, reaching out to touch Arthur’s hand. His arm relaxed a fraction. But he didn’t let go of his weapon. “Robert and Isadora dragged him off the battlefield before the fae could take him. Aline was able to extract the poison from the fae arrow, so he’ll live. More’s the pity. I figured we should get everyone up-to-date and strategise before we made any attempt to question him. Especially...” his eyes flicked to Robert, “...given the present company.”
Smithers’ eyes rolled back in his head. “Robert is in a box. Robert-in-a-box. Turn the handle and he’ll pop up again.”
Rowan slipped his fingers in mine. His hand trembled as he pulled me toward the sofa. I sat stiffly, not even registering the fabric against my bare legs. Blake slid down on the other side of me. Flynn took a seat closest to the table where Simon was laying out some scones and cream. Arthur remained by the door, still gripping his sword, and casting furtive glances over his shoulder as if he expected to be stabbed in the back at any moment.
Simon held out a teacup and I accepted it, bringing the hot drink to my lips. Usually I hated tea unless it was the raspberry and vanilla one Rowan made for me, but this one tasted like nothing and it gave me something to do with my hands, so I sipped and tried to pretend I wanted to be here, that every thought wasn’t about Corbin.
“Briarwood?” I asked, my voice tiny in the cavernous room.
“I spoke to the police this morning,” Clara said. “They’re going to allow you back in later today. That nice Inspector Wallace says he’s arrested several villages in relation to the arson and Corbin’s death. There are others being treated for superficial wounds before they’re questioned. Simon’s already spoken to an engineer from Crooks Worthy who isn’t superstitious. He’s going to join you when you go back and give you an overview of the repair work to be done. If you’re not ready to deal with that, I’m sure Simon will be happy to go with you. He’s done enough work on this place for Ryan that he knows all the traps.”
“We’ll manage,” Arthur growled. I knew what he was thinking – he didn’t want anyone else there when we went back to Briarwood, especially not a bald butler we hardly knew. It was ours and we needed to mourn it together.
“I’ve also spoken to that lawyer of yours, Emily,” Clara said. “Apparently, the villagers tried to get information about your witchcraft from her. She was trying to warn you, but they locked her in her office and cut the phone line. She says she doesn’t care if you’re a barbershop quartet of singing badgers as long as you pay her retainer. She’ll sort you out with any money you need for restoration work from the Briarwood Trust. You will have your home back before you know it.”
Rowan’s hand tightened around my wrist.We’ll never have our home back now.
“Thank you.” The words were wooden, devoid of meaning. The voice that spoke them didn’t sound like my own.
“Maeve, sweetheart, drink your tea.” Aline cooed, like I was a child with a scraped knee instead of a grown woman with a broken heart. “Let me explain what happened.”
“You used fae magic against Daigh,” Blake said. “I’m impressed.”
“It was you who gave me the idea,” Aline said. “When I learned you had the use of some fae powers from Daigh’s tutelage, I wondered if there were ways other than binding that fae powers could pass to witches. I realised that maybe when Robert trapped me in the painting after I’d been using Daigh’s power as a glamour,somehowthe power left in the necklace had been fused into me.“
Nope. She’s not getting away with that explanation.
“If powers are genetic traits, then you’re talking about your DNA being changed, and that’s not possible.”
“That you know of.” Aline gave me this sweet smile, as if decades of genetic research could just be swept under the rug because she said so. “I was also trapped inside a painting for twenty-one years, which isn’t something science can explain.”
“If Daigh is throwing around his powers like candy on Halloween, then how come I don’t have any?” I demanded. “Shouldn’t I be able to glamour and talk in mirrors and compel people and manipulate dreams?”
“Youcando all those things, Princess,” Blake said quietly.
“No. I can’t.”
Blake held up his long, slender fingers and ticked off his points one by one. “You spoke to Daigh in the castle mirrors without Aline present. You can pull people into dreams at will and use dreams to travel into the fae realm.”
“Daigh spoke to me! And going to the fae realm was all witchcraft! I’m a dreamwalker. It’s my spirit power.”
“Or maybe it’s a power that manifests in witches with fae blood,” Clara mused. “Very little is known about spirit magic, even less about dreamwalkers. It would make sense that it was a fae power, as dreams are a form of glamour. Maybe there are more bindings between our people than we think.”
“I don’t have fae powers!” I yelled.
“You’ve compelled hundreds of fae simultaneously,” Blake flicked down another finger.
“Youdid that! I just gave you more power!”
“Do you think if I could control the minds of the fae like that I’d have stayed in Tir Na Nog for so long?” Blake smirked. “Face it, Princess, you’ve got all the gifts. You were always so greedy.”
“This isn’t funny!”
“No, it’s not.” Aline’s voice rose. “I’m so sorry I did this to you, Maeve. These powers are my curse. It’s only fair that I find myself with them, as well. I found out when we first spoke to Daigh through the mirror. Like calls to like. The clay steals the clay. I thought Blake might realise that I was using fae magic to call him, even though I told you all it was a witch’s spell.”
“Daigh never showed me that particular trick,” Blake replied.
