Page 22 of The Faerie Handmaid

Morgana was on the point of sitting when a sensation of danger seized her. She pressed a hand to her solar plexus, where a tremor of alarm shivered, then grew. Her heartbeat sped, and she had to stand still, the other hand pressed to her sigil, as she tried to think what the problem could be.

Braithe. It was Braithe. The two of them were too close for Morgana not to sense her handmaid’s panic.

“Something is wrong,” she said. “I have to go.”

“What is it?” Emerlyn asked.

“I do not yet know. May I speak your cantrip?”

“I didn’t set it when we came in.”

“Good.” Morgana threw the door open and started down the corridor toward the entrance of the building. She slowed her steps a little when she realized Emerlyn was beside her.

“You sense something,” Emerlyn panted, striving to keep up with Morgana’s long strides.

“Yes.” Morgana judged it would be better to face whatever it was with the councillor at her side, so she shortened her steps even more to accommodate the older woman. “Braithe has occasional surges of magic, but in this case it is strong. Something threatens her.”

Outside, Emerlyn said, “Come this way,” and turned into an alley that sliced between the white-walled buildings. “It’s not as easy a walk as the boulevard, but faster.”

Morgana suppressed her desire to run. She hoped Braithe was wearing her charm. She palmed her sigil and asked the Lady to make sure that was so.

7

Idhri,” Braithe said. “I’m hungry, and I know you are, too. We’ll go with Skye, and be back long before Priestess Morgana returns.” As she turned toward the door, smiling at the prospect of an outing, something impelled her to touch the charm that hung around her neck. It was the one Morgana had created before they left the Isle and made her promise to wear. It was the simplest of amulets, but its slight weight felt good against her breast, reminding her she was protected. She pressed her palm over it now, still smiling.

A sudden jolt shot through her body. Her smile died, and she blinked, dazzled by the bright sunshine pouring through the high kitchen windows. She felt a sudden spasm in her head, as if she were about to develop a nasty headache.

She blinked again, and Skye’s glamour shattered as if it had been a pane of glass broken by a stone. With painful clarity she again saw the harsh-faced man, his unclean hair hanging in greasy hanks and his slanting dark eyes flashing cruelty. She had almost allowed him to deceive her!

She gripped the charm so hard her hand hurt. “We’re not going anywhere with you! Leave us alone!”

Skye spat a curse. She didn’t recognize the words, but she had no doubt they were foul. He spun away from her and strode into the kitchen, where he seized Idhri’s thin arm. Braithe saw the air shimmer as Skye tried to project a glamour to hide the two of them, but she kept her charm firmly in her fist as she stepped forward to block the front door. “Let him go,” she commanded. Her fear had not returned. She felt only revulsion, and fury that he was threatening Idhri, that he had laid a hand on him as if he had a right, as if what Idhri might want or not want mattered not at all.

Skye dragged the boy forward, but Idhri seemed to trip over his feet, by accident or by design. He fell, ripping his arm from the fae man’s grasp.

Braithe seized her moment. She dashed past Skye to snatch up the poker from its stand beside the fireplace. Before he could get another grip on Idhri, she brandished the poker with her free hand. She didn’t dare release her hold on Morgana’s charm, and the poker was heavy and awkward, but her anger lent strength to her fingers. When Skye lunged at her to grab at the poker, she instinctively let the point of it drop, and he charged straight into it.

The poker made a cumbersome weapon. It was Skye’s momentum that did the damage. The poker drove into his belly, making him emit a surprised grunt. It was too dull to break his skin, but it forced him to fall back a step.

Braithe was also thrown off-balance by the contact, and her grip slipped. The poker was too heavy. With a desperate gasp, she struggled to get a better hold on the thing as Skye regained his footing and came at her again.

The poker turned in Braithe’s fingers and fell to the floor just as Skye reached for it. She cried out in alarm, but Idhri, still on the floor, seized it. He jumped nimbly to his feet, brandishing the poker in both hands. He was young and slight, but he had been rowing across Ilyn with his master for two years and more. His arms were thin but muscled. Braithe heard his grunt of effort as he raised the makeshift weapon and brought it down hard.

She assumed he was aiming for Skye’s head. If so, he missed his target. The iron poker struck Skye’s shoulder instead, with such a loud crack that Braithe thought the bones might have broken.

The fae man crumpled to his knees, groaning in pain. Idhri, infected by Braithe’s courage, stood over him, poker raised and ready.

“Do you see him?” Braithe trembled, too, shocked by the violence of the blow and the deception of the glamour.

“Sort of,” Idhri said. “He keeps changing.”

Skye, one hand hanging useless beside him, got up from the floor by bracing himself with his uninjured arm. Idhri and Braithe stood shoulder to shoulder, Braithe clutching her charm, Idhri gripping the poker so hard his fingers whitened.

The fae man raised one closed fist. Braithe put her arm in front of Idhri, even though she knew she could never fend Skye off if he decided to attack. Even with the use of only one arm, he could do terrible damage.

Good fortune intervened at that moment, or perhaps it was the Lady’s intervention. The front door clicked open.

Priestess Morgana appeared in the hallway, tall and imposing in her black robe, her golden eyes glittering with fury. Councillor Emerlyn came behind her, not quite as tall, but a commanding presence, with her long hair tossed over one shoulder and her gray robe swirling around her ankles. She swept in after Morgana and fixed Skye with a blazing gaze.