Page 58
However, Ailsa had just followed her mother inside. Fern and Kayla also followed—and so would he.
Ducking under the low entrance, he straightened up to find himself in a narrow passageway that curved steadily downward.
The walls were earthen, bound together by a web of roots as thick as his wrist. Ferns sprouted wherever moisture seeped through, their fronds brushing Darach’s shoulders. Fortunately, the ceiling was high enough to accommodate him; nonetheless, he had to force himself on. His nerves were on edge now, every muscle in his legs coiling, ready to run.
He glanced back then, expecting to see the entrance—but it had vanished. All he could see was a wall covered in knotted roots.
Sucking in a deep breath of damp, pungent air, he pushed down rising panic and kept walking.
Isleen led them through a network of passages, and it wasn’t long before he lost all sense of direction. Nothing had been carved straight.
“The mound shouldn’t be this big,” Kayla muttered up ahead.
“It isn’t,” Fern murmured back.
Kayla cast the huntress a sharp look over her shoulder yet didn’t comment further.
Likewise, Darach held his tongue.
This place was strange, disorienting. Why couldn’t he remember how long they’d been walking? At a certain point, he was no longer sure if they were traveling up or down.
They walked on further before he realized his thigh had stopped hurting.
Reaching up, he touched the wound to his shoulder. It had scabbed.
He frowned. Hadn’t it been bleeding earlier?
A few twists and turns later, he noted that his limp had gone; his legs felt stronger. His ribs no longer hurt. And then, as they continued through the maze of passageways, the tension in his shoulders eased. The sense of urgency that had dogged him ever since escaping Craeg Aonaranach started to feel oddly distant.
Suddenly, even Niall wasn’t so important. For the moment at least, that familiar burn in his gut was gone.
Glancing ahead once more, he noted that both Kayla and Fern walked taller, their steps lighter.
Aye, it wasn’t just happening to him.
Finally, Isleen ducked under another low doorway and led them into an alcove of sorts.
Straightening up, Darach took in the curved walls like in the passages outside, covered in gnarled roots and growths of ferns. A soft carpet of moss covered the floor, and there was a curtained nook in one corner. A lump of peat glowed in a hearth a few yards away.
His gaze rested upon a small oaken table in the center of the alcove, where trenchers of food—bread, cheese, and fruit—sat with a ewer of wine and a stack of wooden cups.
Finishing his inspection, Darach turned to the others.
Earlier, they’d all been bleeding and bruised, like him, but now, they all looked remarkably well. Kayla gazed around her, fascinated, while Fern’s expression had shuttered. Ailsa ignored everyone except Isleen. She seemed unable to take her eyes off her mother.
Meanwhile, Isleen surveyed the group. She’d have noticed how they’d all healed from their injuries, yet she made no mention of it. Instead, she focused on Ailsa. “Eat, drink, bathe, and rest a little, daughter,” she said with a half-smile. “I shall fetch you shortly.”
18: DON’T MAKE HER ANY PROMISES
AILSA poured wine into the cups and passed them across to her companions. They’d all seated themselves around the small table. Kayla cut cheese and bread for everyone, while Darach dished out small apples onto each trencher.
Fern took a cautious sip of wine, swilling it in her mouth before swallowing. She then sighed.
It felt wrong—to enjoy supper in the belly of a hill full of blood-drinking faeries who’d been tearing warriors apart an hour ago. But they were all hungry and thirsty, and they needed to rest.
“I can’t believe we’re all still standing after that fight,” Kayla said then, breaking the silence.
Ailsa grimaced and tried not to think about how much a part of her had enjoyed it. She remembered then the Circines man who’d stabbed another in a frenzy. “Did you see any warriors turn on each other?”
