“I was never ready for this,” I said soberly.
Our fingers linked, we traveled down the beinn and crossed the valley toward the dreary forest of Cathair Crofin, my father’s resting place.
A few steps into the forest and we were surrounded in darkness.
The pungent scent of wet earth, dead wood, and rotting carcass hung thick in the air. The ground was soft, a mattress of pine needles and decaying leaves. Twigs snapped and brown leaves rustled as though small animals scurried away at our passing.
Balen called forth flame onto a broken limb he’d plucked from the forest floor.
I followed closely behind him and Drem who remained on Balen’s shoulder.
“How do we know which direction to go?” I whispered.
He held the torch high. “We go the way we are led.” And then he commanded the torch brighter and waved it in a wide circle.
On both sides of us appeared the massive battle hounds of Annwn, their white fur stark in the darkness. Their eyes glowed red in the bright light. They stood still, three on both sides, though I sensed more.
I swallowed down my fear and found my voice. “What should we do?”
“They’re here to direct us. They won’t harm us until given the word.”
I didn’t need to ask where. We were going straight to Nox.
“It’s the only way to get close to the light Drem saw,” Balen said over his shoulder. “When Deirdre told me of the forest . . . I knew Nox was here. Death surrounds him. He cannot escape it even if he wanted to. It makes him easy to find.” Balen slowed, waiting until I was beside him and he could hold the light to see my face. “It’ll be up to you to regain the Lia Fail, Deira. He won’t harm you.”
I gave him an incredulous look. “Of course he will. He’ll do anything to prevent the light from returning to Innis Fail.”
“No. He needs you. He won’t harm you.”
I grabbed his arm. “Wait. What do you mean, he needs me?”
“You’re the daughter of Ariannon, a princess of the House of Anu, and of Conlainn, once king of Emain Macha.”
“And?”
Balen held the torch higher. “In you, Nox sees the royal blood of both worlds. Think, if he intends to overthrow us and rule both lands, who would further strengthen his rule? Who could provide an heir with a royal claim to both lands? No one, but you.”
I drew back in surprise. “But he could take any daughter of a king of Éire. And the people of Innis Fail don’t accept me now; they would never accept me as a queen.”
“Taking a purely human queen would be far worse to our people. At least in you, he has the blood of the noble House of Anu. His heir would be noble on both sides.” His words died for a short moment, before he said, “Nox wants you here, and there must be a reason. It’s the only thing that makes sense.”
Balen did have a good argument. Nox had lured me here. But what sent a cold dread sweeping through me, chilling me to my bones, was the fact that Balen had known it. He’d known. The implications compounded one after another.
“You knew my father was a king. You knew my lineage and why Nox might want me here.” My voice was strained as I struggled to make sense of it. A deep well of disappointment grew inside me. “You’ve led me straight to him. How will I be free of him when you die like you believe you will?”
“You are the Light Bearer, Deira. For the sake of Innis Fail, I had no other choice.”
“Aye, you did. You chose a foretelling that has no final outcome! You followed a path someone else set out for you when you could’ve chosen your own path. How am I to retrieve the Light and escape him? How? When this is what he’s wanted all along? When you fall, I am lost. The Light is lost. And I am condemned to a life of bearing children in the land of the dead.”
“Deira. No…”
“Aye, Balen.” I shook with rage, with a hurt so sharp it felt like a knife in my belly. “All this would’ve been nice to know beforehand. When I asked you if there was anything else I needed to know at the temple, remember what you said? ‘Nothing, Deira. There is nothing else’. You never allowed me to make the choice, to know what I was up against, and then decide for myself. You have kept me in the dark and directed my life just like everyone else.”
And the worst part? Had Balen been honest with me, had he told me the true threat Nox posed to me and given me a choice, I still would have come to Cathair Crofin. I would have chosen to help him because I cared. About him. About the Light. About us. But I was just a tool, a means to an end, a thing to bear the light home.
I fisted the folds of my cloak and lifted to keep it free from my ankles as I spun away from him only to draw up short. The battle hounds blocked my path, standing in a line, hair raised on the backs of their necks, lips pulled back to show their fangs.
“Step back, slowly.”
I let out a frustrated groan, wanting to rail at them, fight them, make a stand.
“Deira.”
With clenched teeth and fists, I moved back. Without a word or a look, I swept past Balen and continued down the small trail. As the hounds fell in around us, I realized that the only person I could truly rely on was me. The only person I could trust was me. The only one who had my best interests at heart was me.
I felt like a child again, the same child who’d stand atop the tower in Murias and stare out over the lake wishing for a mother and a father, wishing for someone to love me, to not leave me, or abandon me, or betray me.
Saving Innis Fail from darkness, the same darkness that enveloped this forest, was a noble quest. Balen was king, champion, and protector. The safety of his people came first. He loved Innis Fail. His was a true, abiding, desperate love, and while he was wrong for withholding the truth from me, he wasn’t wrong about loving his people and land. He’d sacrifice us both for the tiniest chance at saving our world.
I reasoned it until my mind hurt. I understood Balen’s motivation and even why he kept things from me—he didn’t want me to run, to turn back. But it didn’t make it right. I’d just wanted a choice. I’d let Balen into my heart and body. And after everything we’d been through, the intimacy we shared, the fact that I’d stayed on the quest thus far… I deserved better; I deserved his trust.
As the dark forest enveloped us and my mind continued to spin, I decided I would continue on. I’d come this far. I was hurt, and that hurt was turning into the hardest mettle. I’d use that; I’d do everything I could to find the Light because it was the right thing to do.
And if Balen was right, if Nox of Annwn thought he could use me and manipulate me, he was in for a very big surprise.
CHAPTER 20
The forest was cold, the trek long. I was drained, chilled, and achy. Balen and I had not spoken a word, and somewhere along the way, I’d stopped glancing over my shoulder at the hounds. They weren’t going anywhere.
The forest began to thin. The darkness and frost gave way to a silvery gray mist. Soon, we came to three wide steps, the stones blackened from decomposed leaves. The steps led to a long rectangular lawn of dead grass crowned by an ornate fountain in the center. And beyond, an immense, dark stone palace, its arched windows like sheets of black glass reflecting the forest around us.
Trees grew atop the palace, the roots winding down around the stones, finding crevices to latch onto and into. Behind the palace, rose an enormous hill, so close . . . almost as if it was part of the palace. Turrets soared past the trees, pointing skyward where crows circled and cawed. Small compared to Drem, but their cries were still disturbing.
A shaft of sunlight broke through the clouds and disappeared beyond the walls, as though it pierced the very heart of the palace.
Balen whispered softly to Drem as the raven began to fidget and flap its wings.
The hounds moved closer to us, three on each side, two at the back, and one—the biggest one—in front leading us. Their backs came to my chest. Their paws were the size of Balen’s hand. They could easily take down a Danaan, or a human. Or a horse, for that matter.
Wind howled somewhere far in the distance of the dark woods, but here the quiet reigned, only broken by the brittle leaves and grass crunching beneath our feet. There was no water running from the fountain. It was dry, cracked and aged by time. The bowing female sculpture on top rested her forehead on her bent knee. One hand was palm up, against the floor, and the other was thrown over her knee and face, shielding her as she cried.
Even though it was a bit warmer than the woods, I shivered. The statue presented such anguish and hopelessness, a fitting warning to any arriving at the King of the Underworld’s door. As we went by, I heard the slow drip, drip, drip—her tears falling into the dry basin below.
At the entrance to the palace, two of the hounds bent their heads and pushed at the massive front doors. Their hindquarters bunched and their nails scraped on stone. Slowly, the doors creaked open enough to allow us passage.
I was no stranger to opulence, to halls three stories high, and architecture that could make one’s jaw drop. But this . . . it was cold and frightening. Leaves and debris littered the floor, our entrance sending them skittering down the black marble floor. Columns of the same material lined both sides of the long hall. Walls were made of the deepest darkest wood. There was nothing of warmth, no carpets or wall hangings, no great hearth with a raging fire, no candles.
The doors closed behind us, the echoing bang making me jump. I forced down my trepidation and moved down the hall toward a dais with three chairs—thrones that were in tatters. In the spaces between the marble columns stood stone sculpted warriors, larger than life, noble and fearsome. As I passed each sentinel, I felt eyes on my back even though I knew there were none.
Shaking off the eerie sensation, I focused my attention ahead of me. A figure appeared at the end of the dais, one hand resting on the back of a chair. A man, an old man with a dignified carriage and tears in his eyes…
My breath whooshed out of me and I staggered to a stop.
Those brown eyes. The look of regret and love directed at me, only me. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t swallow or wet my tongue. I reached toward Balen for support, but grabbed air. My vision wavered. My knees buckled. “Father?” the word slipped out on a whisper.
