“Good.” He took my hand and motioned his knights forward with a jerk of his head.
I looked over my shoulder as we retreated. The cave was several yards away, its dark mouth open as if screaming. Or taunting me. I wanted to tell Tiernan to stop. I needed to go back and finish this. I could destroy the Garden right now. But I knew my confidence came from what the King of Whiners had done to me. I had been dulled somehow. Numbed. I needed to recover before I faced him again.
I had learned enough about the blight that I wouldn't trust myself as I was.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
“Is this how they normally look?” I asked Tiernan as we strode through the gathering hall in the center of the Basty village.
Tiernan was watching me with a strange expression on his face. “No. I don't know why, but the blight has turned them into this.”
“They look malnourished. It's the opposite of what happened to the Licho.” I stopped by a pallet where a Basty woman lay, her bones poking through her flesh.
One of our soldiers knelt beside her, his glowing hands hovering over her body. As I watched, her flesh filled in and color returned to her cheeks.
With a gasp, the woman clutched at the soldier's hand. “Thank you.”
“You're welcome. Rest now.” He got up, inclined his head to Tiernan and me, and moved on to another victim.
I looked across the room at all the healing being done. “I didn't know you brought so many healers.”
“Most of the soldiers I chose to bring have healing magic.” Tiernan followed my gaze. “I thought they'd be more useful, but the last two villages didn't need them.”
“But these fairies do, so it's good you brought them.”
“And you?” He cocked his head at me. “Are you sure you're all right?”
“Yes, I'm fine.” The distrust I'd felt over my calm state had faded while the confidence had grown.
I wasn't numb. My emotions were all present. Some were merely inactive, allowing others to thrive. But there was one question that kept nagging me. Why wasn't I as happy as the Licho? Shouldn't I be joyous without pain weighing me down? Maybe because the King hadn't taken all my pain. Just the worst of it.
Movement in the corner of my eye caught my attention. I glanced over to see the Basty woman sit up.
Her stare was locked on me. “Your Majesty?”
“Yes?” I turned toward her.
She slowly stood, her long platinum blond hair falling to her feet. Stunningly beautiful, she was also haunting—her eyes deep set and her mouth greedy. She reached for me.
I stepped back.
“Oh, I'm so sorry!” She clutched her hand to her chest as if it had betrayed her. “You . . . you shine.”
“I shine?”
A Basty man came over and put his arm around the woman. Healed as well, he was nearly as handsome as she was beautiful. His brown hair hung to his shoulders, but was just as wispy as hers, floating on the slightest breeze. Lazy-lidded blue eyes stared at me sleepily, but his mouth, full and greedy like the woman's, made those eyes look like a trap. The combination of their allure and feral menace, magnified by their standing together, made me want to keep my distance.
“Forgive us, Your Majesty,” the man said. “We are drawn to nightmares.”
“Nightmares?” I went still.
“The Basty are bringers of nightmares,” Tiernan said. “They sit on a sleeping human's chest and give them bad dreams.”
Summoned by Tiernan's words, an image came to me—a painting of a woman in a white nightgown, draped across a bed with a goblin creature sitting on her chest. The painting was called The Nightmare, if I remembered correctly. I think there was a horse head coming out of the shadows too. Perhaps a play on the word. It had to be based on a Basty.
“We give humans bad dreams to feed upon their fear,” the man said.
I nodded. “My husband, King Daxon, has the Tromlaighe. I'm familiar with nightmare-bringers.”
