Reyna turned back to the wall of suspended rain only to see Glencora already stepping through it. She cried out and reached for her sister’s arm, but it was too late. She was already gone, hidden on the other side.
Frustrated, she rushed after her sister. As glad as she was that Glencora had found some measure of adventure and bravery, she wished she’d exercise a little more caution before stepping through a mysterious magical wall of rain.
And her fears were only confirmed when they all came face-to-face with a line of spears pointed at right their heads.
The Dryads were tall and willowy, like many wood fae, but there was an otherworldly glow about them, too. Twisting antlers grew from their heads, and their faces were decorated with war paint. Their armor was minimal. Instead, they wore loose, sleeveless tunics that bared their stomachs. The scraps cinched around their waists barely hid their privates.
Beyond the line of spears, Ionad was unlike any village Reyna had ever seen. Platforms had been erected in the trees, and a silver stream wound through the tiny huts built into mounds of dirt. There were no doors in Ionad. Only windows. And the canopy above had been trimmed back to reveal a sky full of stars.
“Who are you and why have you come here?” one of the Dryads spit, stepping out in front of the others. She was taller than the rest with flaming hair cascading around strong shoulders. Her voice bellowed with unbridled power, and intricate tattoos spiralled down her leg. Words written in her skin in Fomorian.
Leader,it said.Queen.
Reyna took a deep breath and took her own step forward. “My name is Reyna Darragh, Shieldmaiden for the Ice Court and—”
“Ah.” The Dryad’s eyes flicked across Reyna’s face. “I know who you are. We’ve been expecting you.”
Alarm slammed into her. She widened her eyes and glanced at Nollaig. “You were?”
“We have seen your face in the river,” she said, gesturing behind her at the stream. “I have heard your name on the wind. You come here seeking answers and magic to drive a dark force out of these woods. And you mean us no harm.”
She lifted her hand and motioned at her followers. They lowered their spears, though wariness still hung in their luminous eyes. The Queen’s gaze drifted toward Reyna’s companions. A small frown tugged at her lips.
“These are my friends. And my family. They don’t mean you any harm either.”
“I didn’t see their faces in the waters.”
“A token, if you will, my Queen.” Nollaig stepped forward and held out her gloved hand, palm up. In the center of the leather sat a small acorn. Reyna had no idea what it meant.
The Queen puffed out her chest and snatched the acorn. “Clever gift. I’ll allow you all to stay.”
The line of spears parted, and the Queen motioned for Reyna and her companions to follow her into Ionad. Reyna fell into step beside Nollaig as they crossed the flowing stream with its waters sparkling with stardust.
“Do you know who she is?” Reyna whispered.
“Queen Morgan,” Nollaig whispered back. “You’re looking at one of the oldest beings to call Tir Na Nog home, if not the oldest.”
“The Dryads…” Reyna said, glancing at their thick, luscious hair, their clear skin, and their eyes as bright as newborn babes. “They didn’t fall, did they?”
“Not the ones who stayed here. But if they left this place, they lost their magic, same as anyone else.”
And no one had ever known. Because no one ever came here and few ever left. Except, perhaps, the wood king. Ulaid Molt had found out about this place. Maybe he’d read about the Dryads in his books. He’d put two and two together, and he’d hunted them down. But surely they would have seen what he was. Why had they let him in?
“Sit,” Queen Morgan said, pointing at a cluster of stumps scattered beside a pit dug deep into the ground. As Reyna took a seat, she leaned over the pit. Heat flared across her face. Down, far below them, embers crackled and spit. It was lava. She hoped to the gods it wasn’t the molten iron kind.
“You’ve come here for a reason, and I can guess what that is.” She looked pointedly at Reyna before she took a seat elevated above the rest. “However, I’ll give you a chance to explain so that I can decide whether or not to help you.”
Unease bounced through Reyna’s veins. It was impossible to tell whether the Dryads were friends or foes. Had they supported Molt’s reign? Did they serve Unseelie? Magic pulsed through the village, thick and hot. But did they use these powers for good? Or were they like every enemy that Reyna had encountered in her life? Twisted and corrupt because of it.
Unfortunately, she had no choice but to hope for the best. They’d come all this way, despite all odds. If they turned around now, they would never find out if they could find the cure here. The Dryads might be their only hope for saving Tir Na Nog.
Reyna loosed a breath, and then spoke. “As you have your own Queen, I’m assuming you never served Ulaid Molt. At least I’m hoping you didn’t.”
“You speak in past tense,” Queen Morgan said with raised brows.
“Molt is dead now. We killed him. And it seems he left a little present behind. A curse. One that would transform his successor into a blood-thirsty servant of Unseelie.”
A long stretch of silence was the only answer. So, Reyna had no other choice but to forge on.
