There were no branches or forks along the way. These tunnels led in one direction only, straight to the shamans. There were no opportunities for any thing or any person to burrow in from an alternative entrance. I had no clue if there was an exit from their chambers to the outside, but if there was, it would lead into the chill desolation of the realm, where nothing could survive unless it was already acclimated to the area.
After a while, I fell into a light daze, not knowing how long we had been walking. I wasn’t tired, per se; everything had just become a blur.
The Fae Courts existed in their own world. Outside their boundaries, time flowed like a river, but inside? A week spent in the realm of Faerie could easily translate into minutes in the outer world. Or decades, depending on the will of the Queen. And here, I was the one who set the pace, though I didn’t know how to tinker with time yet. The thought scared the fuck out of me. What if I screwed up a friend who came to visit? What if I messed with someone’s life, keeping them here too long as the outer world passed them by? But sooner or later, I’d have to learn how to adjust the flow of the realm.
“Are we nearly there?” I glanced over at Grieve, wanting to take his hand. But now that we had taken the throne, when we were in public we had to watch our decorum. A kiss? Was acceptable in certain quarters. Holding hands? Passable, depending on the situation. But snuggling and cuddling? All of those affections had to remain in our chambers now. I didn’t like this part of being Queen much, but there was nothing we could do about it. At least, not yet. Perhaps in time I could change tradition, but right now we had a war to focus on. Changing the stance on how much PDA the royals were allowed, well—it wasn’t exactly high on the priority list.
“We are. It takes time to reach the shamans because they wanted to avoid the chance for invaders to reach them quickly. Gives them a chance to set up defense. That’s how they kept fairly immune from Myst’s first attack. Same with the Court of Rivers and Rushes.”
Grieve grinned. “I can feel your desire, you know.” He reached out and, with light fingers, caressed my hand. I lingered over his touch, then reluctantly pulled away. My wolf let out a low rumble in response. Grieve wanted me. It was a nice reassurance.
The tattoo on my stomach was that of a wolf’s head, staring out from in front of a trailing vine of silver roses and purple skulls. Running from my hip to the opposite ribs, it linked Grieve to me—he was a wolf-shifter—and I could feel his energy through it. When he was upset, it growled; when he was hungry for me, desire emanated from the core of the wolf. When he was in pain, I felt his pain.
I was marked with three other tattoos. On both upper arms I had identical bands, a silver dagger through the moon with a pair of owls flying past. On my breast, a feral Fae girl hid behind a bush. They all connected to facets of me—they all were part of my essence and core.
I nodded. “I thought as much.”
A moment later, Check pointed out a shift in the color of the ice covering the walls. It had changed from a white fading into pale blue to a white fading into purple.
“Subtle, but enough to tell us that we are within their territory. Purple is the color of the shamans’ magic. I warn you, they may bow to the Queen and King, but they are beyond all laws save a very few. They live within their own world. Do not anger them. While they would not harm you, their cooperation is vital for our continued existence in this realm. While your heartstone brought the Court back to life, the shamans make that life habitable.”
As he finished speaking, we came to the end of the tunnel. What waited beyond was impossible to see because a veil of energy stretched across the opening. Shimmering like the aurora, the rays streamed across the passage.
“Here we are, then.” Grieve turned to me. “This will be your first time meeting them, though trust me when I tell you, they have followed you since birth. Lainule and Wrath told me that they were instrumental in setting up the circumstances of both your and Rhiannon’s conceptions. While the shamans are not like the Wilding Fae, I advise you, my love, do as you do with the Snow Hag. Think before you speak.”
“No jokes or snark, I take it?” I had a habit of mouthing off when I felt threatened, and it had fucked me over more than once. When I’d ascended to the throne, I had come to a swift realization that my days of free and easy speech were numbered. Everything coming out of my mouth would have to be thought out and planned in order to avoid rumor and to avoid stirring the waves. A mistake now could lead to far more than hurt feelings—one wrong word and I could start a war. End an alliance. The more power I’d gained, the more restrictions I found myself under. It was a sobering realization.
If this keeps up, in years to come, I’ll be locked in an ivory tower.
Ulean whistled past. But Cicely this is what it means to be the Queen. And yes, you will find your world narrows, even as it expands. The higher you climb, the less your life is your own. One day you’ll look back, and all the days before you became Queen will seem like a dream. A distant memory.
That thought terrified the fuck out of me, but I let it be. I turned to Grieve. “What do we do? Do we just pass through?”
He nodded. “Yes. But Fearless, go first. Check, bring up the rear.”
And so Fearless moved to the front and passed through the veil. I watched him go as the energy crackled and snapped around him, sucking him in. A moment later, Grieve stepped through, motioning for me to follow. With a deep breath, I obeyed.
Stepping into the crackling waves was like plugging my finger into a light socket. Even though I closed my eyes as I entered the veil, forked lightning played across my eyelids, spearing my vision. My skin prickled as a web of sparks danced its way across my body; it felt like a hundred stinging gnats. As my teeth began to chatter from the buzzing in my head, I stumbled through to the other side and was out. Grieve and Fearless were waiting for me. Check followed shortly after. It took a moment for my vision and hearing to clear, and I felt jarred, like I’d had way too much caffeine.
I looked around. “Are we in a secondary Barrow?”
Grieve nodded. “Yes, though this is still technically part of the Eldburry Barrow system.”
The chamber resembled a cave more than anything else, with walls that glistened like frosted glass. I ran my hand over them only to find they were ice. The illumination from within the walls cast a dim light through the chamber, silhouetting our shadows against the walls as we crept along in silence.
The room was large, with benches carved from the ice floes and frozen tables, and everywhere there was the feeling of stasis—as if time stood still here, even more so than out in the regular Barrow. I looked around to see if there was anyone in sight, but there were only shadows against the walls. And then I realized the shades were moving on their own.
Grieve motioned for me to join him at a circular table in the center of the chamber. Fearless and Check followed, taking their posts by our side. I kept my mouth shut. I had no clue what to do, and I’d discovered it was generally best to remain silent until I knew what I was dealing with.
As we sat there, the temperature dropped even further, and though I was wearing my cloak, a shiver of fear ran through me when the shadows stepped off the walls. They began to take form, the inky blackness falling away like grains of sand as a man—short and dark, with long hair caught back in a cascade of braids adorned with beads and feathers—stepped into sight. He was wearing leather pants with a fur cloak and bare chest. But the cold didn’t seem to faze him, and he strode to the chair between Grieve and me, and sat down.