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‘If you are to journey through the kingdom, it would be as well if the pair of you looked less …’ He shrugged slightly. ‘Outlandish.’
‘Oh.’ Merry glanced down at her jeans and jumper, both covered in dried mud and bits of dead vegetation. ‘You think we need to blend in more.’
Jack nodded. ‘The customs of Northumberland are strange to us here.’ There was a slightly odd expression in his eyes. As Merry reached into the bundle he caught hold of her arm. ‘Though indeed, I have never seen such fine weaving, even on the queen’s robes.’ He lifted the fabric of her sleeve to examine it more closely, grazing her skin with his fingertips as he did so.
Merry drew her breath in sharply as Jack touched her. She couldn’t help it. The solidity of him, after so many months of grief and dreams, was a shock. The fact that he was warm and breathing, instead of lying cold and dead underneath the Black Lake. Every time she remembered, it hurt her like a plaster being ripped away too early from a partly healed wound.
Jack had let go of her arm and was holding out a pile of folded clothes. ‘Get changed.’
Merry grabbed the clothes and swung away from him.
Finn was frowning at her, clutching his own stack of clothes to his chest like a shield. Before she could say anything, he stalked outside.
She sighed.
At least the new clothes were warm. There was a long linen shift, a bit like a nightie; a blue, long-sleeved woollen dress over the top of that, and then a green sleeveless over-dress fastened at the shoulders with round brooches and at the waist with a woven belt. It was all a lot more colourful than Merry had expected. The brooches looked like silver, ornately carved into tiny, flowing animal shapes. There was a hooded, fur-lined cloak too.
When Merry returned to the cave entrance, Finn was already there. He looked older in his new outfit, more of a man and less of a boy. There was a sword belt slung round his hips, Leo’s sword in the scabbard. As Finn waited, one hand resting on the hilt, Merry couldn’t help remembering all the fairy stories she’d read as a child, where the handsome prince rescues the princess from a life spent doing housework, or stuck in a glass coffin. ‘You look … nice.’
‘Thanks,’ Finn said stiffly. He bent and picked up an apple and a hunk of cheese. ‘I’m going to stretch my legs.’
Merry didn’t have much of an appetite. She forced down a couple of handfuls of dried fruit, then went to repack her bag and refill the water bottles. It didn’t take long; after slipping the cloak round her shoulders and extinguishing the last globe of witch fire floating in the dark interior of the cave, she was ready to leave.
Jack appeared, mounted on Sorrel and leading a huge grey stallion that apparently answered to the name of Blossom. The horse neighed when it saw her, tossing its head and straining against the rope Jack had in his hand. To Merry’s disgust, Finn didn’t seem remotely concerned. He patted the horse on its neck and pulled himself on to its back quite easily. Then he held his hand out to her. ‘Shall we?’
There wasn’t really any choice. After a couple of undignified minutes spent being dragged up on to the horse by Finn, she was settled in front of him, gripping Blossom’s mane and clinging on with her knees while Finn held the reins.
‘Now,’ Jack glanced at Merry, ‘you must guide us.’
Merry opened the manuscript. ‘Please, take us to Meredith.’
The spiky writing appeared instantly.
Your way lies through the courts of the dead.
Whatever was speaking to her through the manuscript still seemed to have a thing for being cryptic. She read the instruction out to Jack. ‘Does that mean anything to you?’
He frowned for a minute or two before his face cleared. ‘It means the barrows. Obviously.’
‘Huh?’
‘The graves of the dead kings. This way.’ Jack set his horse walking.
Finn urged his horse forward too. ‘Ooh, the dead kings,’ he muttered into Merry’s ear. ‘Look at me, I know everything.’
‘He’s just trying to help. And we need him. We don’t know our way around here.’
‘I know, I know. But still, he’s really, really irritating.’
Merry couldn’t help it. She snapped back, ‘But in a lovable way, right?’
Finn straightened up and jerked the reins so the horse lurched forward, forcing Merry to hang on to Blossom’s neck.
Merry sighed, and wondered how many days it would take to reach Meredith.
The next three days were uneventful. The lands they rode through seemed empty of life, though every so often they passed the charred remains of wooden houses, blackened timbers sticking up out of the snow. In the sky above one ruined village Merry noticed large, reddish-brown birds of prey riding the wind.
Jack followed her gaze. ‘Kites,’ he murmured eventually. ‘Crows aren’t the only birds that eat the flesh of the dead.’
Merry looked away.
On the third night, they stopped near some ruins, the tumbled masonry and broken pillars hinting at a monumental past. After a quick meal, Jack lay down and went straight to sleep. Finn was sitting next to Merry, staring into the fire, his chin propped on one hand.
‘What are you thinking about?’
‘My family,’ Finn replied, not shifting his gaze from the flames. ‘Wondering how my dad’s going to take it, when he finds out that his only remaining son and heir is now a pleb.’
Guilt whispered in the back of Merry’s mind. ‘But he loves you, doesn’t he?’
‘Oh yes. He loves me,’ Finn replied softly.
‘Then … is he really going to care? Even if this turns out to be permanent, surely the most important thing will be that you’re back home again, and safe.’
‘You don’t understand,’ Finn was shaking his head. ‘My dad’s whole identity is bound up in his position, in magical society. Our family have been at the top of the pile for hundreds of years. If that ends on his watch, because of his sons, he’s going to feel like he’s failed. Like he’s let down every single generation since our house started. That’s why he—’ Finn broke off.
‘Why he what?’
‘Nothing.’ He winced and rubbed the centre of his chest.
‘Does it still hurt?’ Merry asked. ‘Where your magic used to be?’
‘It aches, the whole time. Kind of like … when you feel really starving hungry. But more painful. Makes me feel a bit sorry for Ronan.’
‘Seriously? But why?’
‘Because the magic he was born with didn’t last. So he has to steal magic from other people, but that never lasts, either. Don’t you think that he must feel like this the whole time?’
Merry frowned into the flames. Finn was probably right. And she did pity Ronan. Sort of. But when she thought about everything he’d done, all the people he’d hurt …
Some things just aren’t forgivable.
‘Can I ask you a question?’ Finn’s voice jerked her back to the present.
‘Sure.’
‘Are you still in love with Jack?’
‘What?’ Merry sat up straighter.
‘You heard me.’
‘Um …’ Was she still in love with him? ‘It’s complicated.’
‘Right.’ Finn’s tone was scornful.
‘But it is.’ Merry glanced at Jack’s sleeping form. ‘I did love him; I told you that. I loved him enough to free him from Gwydion’s curse by allowing him to die. And now he’s here, and as far as he’s concerned, none of what we went through together ever happened.’ She shivered, pulling her cloak more tightly about her. ‘This isn’t the Jack I knew. But he still looks more or less the same, and he still sounds the same and sometimes …’ The knots of tension in her stomach got worse. ‘I mean, how would you feel if Cillian came back to life, but he didn’t recognise you? If he looked at you like you were a stranger?’
Finn’s face sort of … shut down.
Merry wished she knew a spell to unsay what she’d just said.
‘You knew Jack for how long?’ Finn demanded. ‘A few weeks? A few months at most. And you’re comparing his death to me losing my brother?’
‘Honestly, I didn’t mean to—’
Finn threw up a hand, silencing her. ‘Just don’t, Merry. Don’t say any more. I need some sleep.’ He lay down, facing away from her, and pulled the hood of his cloak over his head.
Merry stared at his back, willing him to turn round.
‘Finn?’
He didn’t answer.
‘I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking. But grief … it isn’t rational or – or – measurable. And Jack’s not the only person I’ve lost.’ Finn still hadn’t moved, or given any sign that he’d heard her. A gust of cold wind stung her eyes. She got to her feet and went to find some more firewood.
Just after dawn, Jack shook her awake. Finn was standing next to Blossom, waiting for her to mount, but he didn’t speak to her. They rode for what felt like hours through another forest before he finally leant forward to whisper to her, his lips brushing her ear.
‘I didn’t mean that my grief was somehow worth more than yours. I just … I miss my brother. That’s all.’
‘Of course. It’s OK.’
‘No, it isn’t. I came here to help you, Merry, to try to make up for what I did at the Black Lake. You mean a lot to me. But you don’t owe me anything. And I have no right to be jealous of Jack. Jealous of the feelings you had for him. Or have for him.’
‘I don’t have any feelings for him, so there’s no reason for you to be jealous. That was what I was trying to explain yesterday. Very badly.’ Merry gazed at Jack, riding a few metres in front of her. ‘Seeing him alive has brought back the memories of the person I loved. But I can’t be in a relationship with a ghost. If we survive this mess, you’re the one I want to bring home to meet my mother, so to speak.’ She twisted round so she could look at Finn. ‘You. Not Jack.’
For a moment, Finn stared at her, his grey eyes wide. Then he slid one hand round her waist, pulled her against him and kissed the back of her neck gently. ‘Thank God. I thought I was going to have to challenge Jack to a duel.’ He laughed softly. ‘And I’m not one hundred per cent certain that I’d win.’
Merry smiled and rested her head back against Finn’s shoulder. They rode on for a while in a comfortable silence.
Jack, still a little way ahead of them, seemed to be getting slower and slower. He kept turning his head, scanning the woodland on either side of the path, riding with one hand on the hilt of his sword.
‘Jack,’ Merry called, ‘is anything wrong?’
‘I do not like this forest.’
Merry looked around. To her, the forest seemed like most of the other woods they’d been through since she arrived here. Damp – chilly – the trees crammed so closely together that, even in their leafless winter state, there was hardly any light filtering down to the track they were following. The still air, heavy with dust, reminded her of something. The forgotten corner of a museum, or an abandoned church. A crypt. She shivered and rubbed her hands together.
Jack slowed his horse until he was riding next to them. ‘I know I haven’t been here before. Yet somehow, if I close my eyes, I remember riding this path, a group of mail-clad knights around me, until we were attacked …’
A long, low growl coming from the trees off to the left made the hair on the back of Merry’s neck stand up. Both horses snorted nervously.
‘What was that?’ Finn was craning his neck, peering into the undergrowth.
‘A wolf.’ Jack drew his sword. ‘Can you ride faster? We must escape this wood before it is too late.’
‘It’s already too late.’ Merry pointed ahead. Not just one wolf, but many – too many for her to count – were stalking through the trees towards them. The animals were advancing purposefully, evenly spread out, almost in ranks. The horses were terrified. Jack still had Sorrel under control – just – but Blossom seemed to be trying to back away and sideways at the same time, tossing his head and rolling his eyes. Finn was leaning forward, gripping the reins and swearing but it didn’t seem to be helping. ‘Let me down,’ Merry insisted.
‘Are you crazy? You can’t – dammit –’
She didn’t waste time in arguing. Squishing her right leg up in front of her and cursing her long skirts, she twisted and slid underneath Finn’s arms and off the horse.
The wolves were only a few metres away now, almost encircling them. Merry realised a shielding spell wouldn’t be enough. She would have to drive them off.
Clenching her hands into fists, she began to sing. A stinging hex, basically. But Merry added more. She wove into the hex the words of a spell to control lightning, keeping the power coiled within her fingertips until the pain of it almost took her breath away.
As if responding to a signal, the wolves attacked.
Merry threw up her hands, releasing the spell. Behind her she could hear the horses screaming and Jack and Finn yelling, but she ignored them, concentrating on the magic coursing through her outstretched arms. She had to spin and duck, aiming the spell, making sure it hit every wolf hard, hard enough that the animal was no longer a threat.
And it was working. The wolves were howling, writhing on the forest floor. Some of them managed to escape, limping away as fast as they could, melting back into the shadows. More of them didn’t. Merry kept going, out of breath, murmuring the spell now rather than singing it. But almost all the wolves had fled or collapsed and she was nearly done, nearly—
‘Merry!’
She swung round to see a huge blond wolf leaping at her, brought up her hands—
Jack’s sword flew past her head and buried itself in the wolf’s chest. The animal crashed to the ground.
Merry let the spell fade and lowered her arms, breathing heavily, grimacing: the air stank of burnt fur.
‘Are you hurt?’ Jack, still leading Sorrel, wrenched the sword out of the dead wolf. He had bloody claw marks along one arm. ‘Merry?’
‘No. Just tired.’ She flexed her aching fingers and looked around. ‘Where’s Finn?’
‘Blossom bolted. I’ll find him.’ He jumped on to Sorrel’s back and rode into the forest.
Left alone, Merry crossed her arms and looked around her at the ring of dead wolves. The snow was stained with blood. When Ronan had killed a wolf back in the woods near Tillingham, she’d buried it – covered it with a mound of roses. But there were no roses here. And far too many bodies …
But what else could I have done?
One of the bodies was twitching; she moved closer to investigate. This wolf was alive. It gasped for air, trying feebly to get back up on its feet. And then Merry saw one of its paws, and froze.
It was a human foot. The top part of the wolf’s leg was as it should be, but the bottom half of the leg, and the foot … Merry clapped one hand to her mouth. The wolf whined again, scrabbling at the ground with its front paws.
I could try to help it – him – but …
Revulsion and fear and exhaustion coalesced into something hard, sitting in the centre of Merry’s chest. Whatever Ronan had been doing here, whatever he was still doing, nothing and no one was going to stand between her and her brother. She didn’t have time for pity.
Raising one hand, Merry murmured one line of the spell she’d been singing. The wolf collapsed. It didn’t move again.
