Patrick scowled. “We don’t even know where she’s being held.”
“Órlaith will not be in Tír na nÓg. Neither will the Morrígan’s staff, and neither was my daughter. We can find our own and what belongs to us in the Otherworld. It is the mortal plane, full of iron, where we are lost. I sent my Wild Hunt to look for Cadwyn because I could not leave, but even the dead can become disoriented by your cities,” Gwyn ap Nudd said.
“The Sluagh probably wanted to take Cadwyn back once Órlaith was taken. If your Wild Hunt had managed to find her, would you have left Annwn for the Seelie Court and warned Brigid of Medb’s price?” Gerard asked.
Gwyn ap Nudd’s molten eyes blazed in his face, the brightness of dawn behind him haloing his head like pale fire. “If I was free of my promise, Medb’s Sluagh would not be enough to save her from my Wild Hunt.”
“Would your Wild Hunt be able to find her?” Jono wanted to know.
Gwyn ap Nudd looked at him with an assessing gaze. “Is this the bargain you would make? My aid for my daughter’s life?”
Jono shook his head. “We don’t want your daughter. We have a teenager. He’s more than enough of a headache.”
“Hey!” Wade protested.
Jono ignored him, meeting the immortal’s gaze with his own steady one. “Your daughter is safe because Patrick said she is, and I trust his word above everyone else’s. You will get her back when this is over, no strings attached, because we aren’t into kidnapping kids. But the Morrígan’s staff is everyone’s problem, gods and mortals alike.”
“Will you help us?” Patrick asked.
Gwyn ap Nudd was silent for so long that the sun broke the horizon before he spoke again, the fiery curve spilling golden light across the changing sky above them.
“I am bound by a promise I already made to Medb. I cannot leave Annwn to aid you until I have my daughter again or Medb breaks her word,” Gwyn ap Nudd said.
“War is no place for a child. If we bring Cadwyn to you now, then war will follow and we lose our chance at finding the Morrígan’s staff,” Gerard said quietly.
“Then I cannot help you, Cú Chulainn.”
“My lord. Would you have me beg?”
“You have spent too long amongst mortals. We gods do not beg.”
Gwyn ap Nudd rapped the butt of his spear against the ground, and the shock wave that reverberated outward from the blow made Jono’s teeth rattle in his skull. Around them, in the early-morning light, the Wild Hunt appeared again, ghostly riders and hounds illuminated by the dawn.
“I must remain. My Wild Hunt is under no obligation to do so.”
Jono watched as the lead rider came forward once more, and this time, none of Gerard’s team got in her way. Her eyes stared at them from behind her leather mask with its painted symbols before she refocused on Gwyn ap Nudd. She bowed from the saddle, a gesture of obeisance that the immortal accepted with a simple nod.
“Nerys will aid you,” Gwyn ap Nudd said.
“Your Wild Hunt can find Órlaith?” Jono asked.
“Not without guidance. If you wish to find the Summer Lady, then you must ask another to point the way.”
“Who?” Gerard asked warily.
“It is winter. These are the long days of the Cailleach Bheur, and she has no love for the goddess who sits on her stolen throne. Ask her for a path forward, and she might aid you.”
Jono didn’t know who the Cailleach Bheur was, but Patrick seemed to, judging by the heavy sigh he let out. “Great. At least she’s an immortal who bled for my dagger. She might be willing to help.”
Jono looked at him. “And if she doesn’t?”
Patrick shrugged. “Medb makes good on the bargain we made with her.”
Jono reached for his hand and held on tight. “She can’t have you.”
The words were a promise in their own right that settled heavily between them, the soulbond humming in his soul. If Medb thought she could take Patrick from him, then Jono would show her how wrong she was, and damn anyone who got in his way.
“Where is the Cailleach Bheur?” Sage asked.
