Page 91 of The Blood Queen

“The village?” I ask.

“More than a dozen Leth there,” Captain Cockburn reminds me. “Boy, you went to Angus, like I said?”

Callum nods.

Angus—he’s a Leth blacksmith down in the village. He’s descended from a Seelie courtier with the gift of breath; one word from him, and the winds carry his message to all he seeks.

“He said he’s already heard word—the High Blade is marching south from Forres.”

Captain Cockburn turns to me. “Heading to Edinburgh, I think.”

I nod. The Caiy Stone is there—the portal that connects directly into the Seelie Court, the most powerful of all the portals. Killing it would sever the last remaining strands of magic between the realms and would leave both the fae realm and Scotland weaker, shadowed versions of their past selves.

“We march to Edinburgh!” Kitty shouts, and behind her, all the Leth and fae cheer. Then the brownie notices my expression. “Why do you look so surprised, Lady Alyth?” She takes a tentative step forward.

“You’re willing to help,” I say, emotion choking me. I look around at them all. Nearly a hundred, between the glaistigs and the brownies and Leths. And more coming, from the village and beyond. All ready to fight. Ready to help. “You all want to help.”

“’Course we do,” Kitty says, frowning, confused.

“We’ve just been waiting for the orders, ma’am,” Captain Cockburn says.

My vision blurs with unshed tears.

Mary reaches for my hand, squeezing my fingers. “Thank you,” she whispers. “For coming back. Let me redeem myself if I can. Let me help in whatever way you deem best.”

Samson touches the small of my back, so I lean closer to him. “All you ever had to do was ask,” he whispers to me.

23 Samson

Alyth might not’ve thought she’d come back here, but I knew I’d never return. Least not as anything short of a prisoner.

So it feels like I’m breathing borrowed air as I stand at the side of the Great Hall, arms folded over my chest, watching Alyth work her magic. Well, not magic, not yet; she’s standing at the head of a table spread with maps, going over the plan with Mary and her lairds. Again. We’ve fixed it all up: The human forces will stay at Stirling to guard Mary should we fail to stop the High Blade; the rest will march for the Caiy Stone in Edinburgh, where most of our forces will keep the High Blade at bay while a small group will sneak into the fae realm with me and Alyth. That group’ll help us get to the loom, where we’ll use the Red Cap weapon that destroyed the Faerie Queen to find the High Blade’s thread on the loom and break it.

A life for a life.

I sniff, hard, adjusting my stance, watching Alyth nod along with something a laird’s going on about. She cuts him off before he’s finished, points aggressively at a map, and he bows his head and looks a bit shamefaced before Mary releases a giggle that cuts the tension. Alyth smiles along with her, but the Scottish queen isn’t the one everyone’s gravitating around.

Surely she sees it now? Surely Alyth knows what was readily apparent the first moment I laid eyes on her.

That she’s every bit regal.

I cast my eyes over the lairds again. Most are older, gray in their hair. A few are young.

After this. When I’m gone. Who’ll Alyth find?

My gut cramps at the thought of her being with someone else. But I want her happy. I want her to live after this, whatever that may look like. Who’s worthy of her?

No one.

Certainly not me.

My eyes drop.

We cleaned up a bit ago, were given rooms and washbasins, so there’s no travel grime on me. No more blood. But I stare at my crossed arms, my fresh clothes, and I remember the feel of my father’s blood on my skin, soaking me, empowering me.

She told everyone here I went mad from Darnley because of a Red Cap weapon.

Because if they knew what I really am, who I really am…