The Oaken Throne Read online

  The Oaken Throne

  Book Five in the Tree of Ages Series

  Sara C Roethle

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Glossary

  Chapter One

  “Oighear will attack again soon,” Keiren muttered to Ealasaid, “and this time, she’ll be ready for you.”

  Maarav watched as Ealasaid, seated beside Keiren, peered down at the map spread out before them. Candles bedecked the table, accompanying the sunlight streaming through the window to light the lines of roads and rivers across the maps.

  “And I’ll be ready for her as well,” she replied distantly.

  Standing behind Ealasaid, Maaraav had an urge to touch the long blonde curl that had escaped her braid, the color crisp against her modest pale blue dress. Keiren’s black gown, in contrast, hugged her thin torso and pooled over her toes provocatively. Her red hair, usually flowing wildly about her face, was also tied back in a long braid.

  Maarav leaned forward to glance over Ealasaid’s shoulder at the map. She was planning another expedition to find more mages, though where she’d house them was anyone’s guess. Even though the collective magic of the mages had built a wall around the outskirts of the burgh, and had expanded and rebuilt many of the buildings within, Garenoch was near overflowing. There just wasn’t enough space for further swelling of their ranks. Although, Maarav could not blame the new mages for flooding in.

  Ealasaid had not only struck a grave blow to An Fiach, but to the Faie. There wasn’t a mage in the land who didn’t want to join her now, save those too cowardly to fight for their own lives.

  Maarav gently laid his hand on Ealasaid’s shoulder. She was a good leader, but he knew how much every death weighed on her heart. He feared every night that he’d wake up in the morning to find her grief had finally consumed her, and there would be no pulling her back.

  “What about here?” Ealasaid questioned, pointing to a spot on the map. “Surely our scouts have not searched this region.”

  “That is the Marshlands,” Keiren replied, shaking her head. “A truly desolate region, and far too close to Finnur.”

  He felt Ealasaid’s shoulder stiffen at the mention of her friend’s name. At least, they used to be friends. Maarav wished he could somehow get word to his brother, if only to let him know there was one human still on his side in Garenoch . . . for now. If Keiren convinced Ealasaid to confront Finn, he and Iseult would become enemies.

  The thought of the potential loss stung him more than he expected. Ealasaid’s soft-heartedness was rubbing off on him.

  With a heavy sigh, Ealasaid stood, then turned to face Maarav. “What do you think? Where should we send our scouts next?”

  He resisted the urge to tug her into his arms. He knew just how Keiren would look at him if he did, with that sly, predatory smile and those knowing blue eyes. If the sorceress hadn’t used her powers to protect Ealasaid on more than one occasion, he would have killed her in her sleep long ago.

  “I believe there are few areas left to scout,” he replied, dutifully keeping his hands to himself. “All have heard of the magic users gathering here. If they want to come, they will.”

  Ealasaid smiled up at him.

  Truly, he still couldn’t quite figure out what he’d done to earn such a smile. He longed to tug her curly blonde hair out of her braid and run his fingers through the soft tresses.

  He felt eyes on him, then noticed Keiren, giving him that infuriating look, like she knew exactly what he’d been thinking.

  He stared back at her. He’d be cursed before he let her come between him and Ealasaid like she’d done with Finn. He’d kill her long before that day ever came.

  Ealasaid’s smile faltered, as if she too could read his thoughts.

  He glanced out the window at the midday sun. “It’s time to meet with Slàine,” he reminded her.

  Ealasaid’s gray eyes widened. “Oh, I almost forgot.” She turned to Keiren. “Until tomorrow?”

  Keiren nodded with a smirk on her rouged lips. “Enjoy your lesson, though truly, why a powerful mage should need a sword is beyond me.” She flicked her gaze to Maarav, mocking.

  “If she finds herself evenly matched against Oighear,” he replied tersely, “a sword might be a wise thing to have.”

  At least, that had been his reasoning when he’d asked Slàine to teach Ealasaid to fight. While he did want her to learn to defend herself without magic, he also just wanted her to spend less time with Keiren. He would have taught her himself, but knew Slàine, a woman of around Ealasaid’s size, would have better tactics to share with her than he.

  Ealasaid rolled her eyes at them both, then made her way toward the door.

  Maarav followed, feeling Keiren’s eyes on his every step, though he refused to give her the satisfaction of a glare.

  Finn stared out at the pouring rain from the parapet. The awning above her dripped a secondary sheet of water, falling slightly faster than the rain.

  She leaned her cloaked back against the damp stone wall, fighting a shiver. It wasn’t often that she was left alone with her thoughts, yet now that she had a moment of peace, her mind was too scattered to focus. Or, perhaps she just didn’t want to focus. She didn’t want to focus on her friends depending on her, nor on the Faie that had flocked to the fortress, deeming her a preferable leader to Oighear the White. Most of all, she didn’t want to focus on the Cavari, and what they might truly want from her. For now, they’d bowed to her will, but she held no illusions about their loyalty, or lack thereof.

  As if summoned by her thoughts, her mother stepped out onto the parapet from the open door of Finn’s chamber. She’d chosen the room because it was on the second story, and bridged the inner entrance to the high wall outside. It made her feel safe at the time. Now, it just made her feel trapped.

  “They won’t wait much longer,” Móirne muttered, gazing out at the rain. Her face was so much like Finn’s that if her dark hair were very light brown, and her blue eyes hazel, it would be like looking into a mirror.

  “They will wait as long as I tell them to wait,” Finn grumbled.

  Her mother gave her a knowing look. It was odd, that look, considering Móirne had not truly known her daughter in over a century. “The Cavari fear the Snow Queen,” she continued. “They will not stand idly by while she increases her forces. The time to strike is now.”

  Finn pursed her lips. “I care not for Oighear the White. Let her do as she pleases.”

  Móirne snorted. “What would please her most, is to place your head on a pike. The Cavari are her greatest enemy.”

  Finn was quite sure they were hers too, though they camped outside the fortress like loyal dogs.

  She sighed. “I will not attack Oighear until I know what she plans.” Instead, she wanted to focus on Keiren, and why she’d turned Ealasaid against her, though she would not admit it to her mother. While she wanted to trust her mother, there was a good chance anything she said would make it back to the Cavari.

  “If you do not attack Oighear,” Móirne began again patiently, “then the Cavari will attack you.”

  She shrugged. “Let them try. If I am truly fated to be their queen, then they cannot stand against me.”

  Móirne shook her head. “Nations revolt against their queens all of the time.”

  “Human queens,” she countered, turn
ing to fully face her. Human queens, her thoughts echoed. If only she could have been born human.

  Móirne sighed. “I’ll try to hold them off a while longer, though they listen to me less and less. I think they know I’ve been protecting you all along, even from them.”

  Finn wrapped her forest green cloak more tightly around herself as a gust of wind pelleted them with raindrops. “Is it such a crime to protect your queen?”

  Her mother gave her that knowing smile again. “When that queen is you, yes.”

  Finn smiled softly in spite of herself. She lifted her hand to the golden locket around her neck, a family heirloom that should have been passed along to her daughter. They’d been almost happy, once.

  Both women turned their gazes back to the rain. The sky was growing increasingly dark, though it was only midday. It seemed the worst of the storm was still to come.

  “Blasted, rock-brained, putrid little imps,” Anna growled, tossing a few pieces of clothing and other random items onto the hard mat that served as her bed. This was the third time she’d caught the Bucca pawing through her things. The horrid creatures never went into anyone else’s rooms, only hers.

  “The Bucca again?” a male voice asked from the doorway.

  She turned to see Eywen watching her, a soft smile on his lips. His silken black hair was pulled back from his angular face, showcasing his slightly pointed ears. Dark brown leather breeches and a loose white tunic covered his tall, lean, yet muscular form.

  “Why do they only bother me?” she groaned, tossing the last of her things onto her mat to be brushed off and sorted.

  Eywen crossed his arms and leaned casually against the doorway. “They like you. You should take it as a compliment.”

  She scowled. “They won’t like me quite so well once I run my dagger through one of them.”

  Eywen moved to her side as she peered down at her meager belongings. Though they’d sent the remaining Aos Sí to gather any supplies the Bucca were too stupid to fetch, she still had very little to her name. In times of war, supplies were short for everyone, except perhaps the lords and ladies of the Gray City.

  “I thought you might like to go for a walk,” he said, surprising her.

  She turned to survey his face, hoping for a hint of his intent. “Why?” she asked finally.

  He shrugged. “What else are you doing?” He smirked. “Besides planning the demise of the Bucca, that is.”

  She sighed. “Alright, I suppose a walk could not hurt. It’s not like I have anything else to do in this gods-forsaken land.”

  Together, they departed Anna’s chamber, venturing through the large stone entry room and out into the courtyard beyond.

  The ground squished beneath Anna’s knee-high boots, and mist coated her black vest, tunic, and cloak, evidence of the heavy rain that had rolled in that morning. It had decreased to a light drizzle, but she could see more dark clouds on the horizon.

  “Perhaps we’ll all drown in a flood long before the Snow Queen kills us,” she quipped.

  Eywen glanced over at her, mirth twinkling in his deep blue eyes. “I by far prefer rain to snow. In fact, I would gladly drown in the rain if it meant I never had to see snow again.”

  Anna smirked. While she hated the rain, she knew Eywen’s aversion to snow was far greater. Centuries serving the Snow Queen would do that to a man.

  They reached the gates to the courtyard, which had been temporarily replaced by half-rotted wood, though the Trow still stood guard on either side. They might currently look like peacefully rooted trees, but Anna had seen them in battle. They could crush a man in seconds.

  Eywen pushed one side of the swinging wooden gate open just enough for them to slip through. It had to weigh twice as much as Anna, but he made it look easy.

  Once they were through, he pulled the gate closed behind them, and Anna had to stifle a shiver. They were vulnerable outside the gates, but she had to remember she had an ancient Faie warrior at her side, and she was far from defenseless herself. She resisted the urge to stroke the long daggers that never left her hips in recent times.

  Eywen walked forward, seeming none too worried about what dangers might lurk in the surrounding trees, or the marshlands beyond.

  Anna stepped lightly at his side. She would not look in the direction of the Cavari. She’d fought them once before and had no intention of ever facing them again. She still could not believe Finn had allowed them to remain so close to the fortress.

  “I wanted to speak with you about your gifts,” Eywen said suddenly.

  She turned to him so abruptly that she stumbled. She took a moment to compose herself, then affixed him with her most threatening glare. “I thought you said you just wanted to go for a walk.”

  “I know you do not like to speak of them,” he sighed, “but this is important.”

  She debated turning around and running back toward the fortress.

  Seeming to sense her inner conflict, Eywen gently took her arm and led her forward.

  She sighed. “Fine, what is so important that you must force such discomfort upon me?”

  “Not yet,” he muttered, leading her into the more densely populated treeline. “I would not want anyone to overhear.”

  Her heart thudded against her throat. Though she rarely spoke of her gifts, everyone in their party knew about them. What could he need to say that no one else could hear?

  Eywen continued on, leading her beside him until the fortress was well out of sight. Anna’s feeling of vulnerability increased the farther they went, but there was no way she’d admit that she was scared.

  Finally, he stopped. He released her arm and turned to face her.

  She let out a shaky breath, peering up into his strange, yet kind eyes.

  “I’d like to speak with you about the wraith,” he said, surprising her.

  She blinked up at him. “Branwen? What about her?” She’d been just as stunned as their other companions when Branwen reached the fortress. They’d all thought her long since dead . . . but Branwen was harmless, wasn’t she?

  He nodded. “Yes, Branwen. What do you see when you look at her?”

  Anna frowned. She’d never paid Branwen much mind. “A scared, simpering little girl.”

  Eywen laughed. “I mean, what do you sense from her?”

  She sighed. With others, she could avoid any talk of her magic, but Eywen always asked her so directly. It was uncomfortable, yet oddly refreshing.

  “I sense very little,” she admitted. “She seems almost dead.”

  He nodded, his gaze going distant. “She technically is dead, or at least, she is no longer animated by the things that animate you and I. It is the energy of the in-between that keeps her as alive as she can be.” He gave her a hard look, as if expecting her to make her own deductions.

  Anna sighed, watching her breath fog the air. The woods were eerily silent, evidence that the Cavari were near. The other Faie feared the Cavari, and would not venture toward their camp. Fortunately, Anna would sense the Cavari if they came near enough to eavesdrop. “I give up,” she said finally. “Why am I supposed to be worried about Branwen?”

  His face fell, as if he were disappointed she hadn’t figured out what he was hinting. She fought to not be disappointed too.

  “She is a direct link to the in-between,” he explained, “to a realm composed entirely of magic energy. With Finn’s power, and Branwen’s connection, they really could break the barriers to that realm. There’s no saying what sort of chaos such an action might release.”

  She raised a dark brow at him. “I’m not sure if you realize this, but the land already is in chaos. The Cavari are here. The Snow Queen could attack us any day. Ealasaid is gathering mages. Why not add releasing in-between energy into the mix? Maybe if the worlds would combine, I wouldn’t end up stuck in another realm in my dreams.” She bit her tongue before she could rant further.

  He smirked, though worry still darkened his eyes. “You truly are fearless, aren’t you?”<
br />
  She snorted. “Hardly, I just know better than to worry about possibilities that are out of my control. I already see into the Gray Place half the time when I’m awake regardless.”

  He smiled. “You speak more easily of such things than you did when we first met.”

  She fought to hide a sudden blush, pushing her slowly dampening hair out of her face. He seemed to bring out the idiot in her. “If it offends you, then I shall stop,” she snapped.

  He watched her for a moment, the ghost of a smile still on his face. “You know that is not what I meant. I’m pleased that you’ve grown to trust me. I never thought I’d live to see the day when a human would speak easily around one of my kind.”

  Her lips parted for her response, but nothing came. What in the Horned One’s name was she supposed to say to that? She was saved as the rain suddenly began hammering down.

  Eywen looked up, impervious to the droplets collecting on his face. He turned his gaze back down to her, a smile still on his lips. “We should return to the fortress.”

  Anna nodded, then turned on her heel to lead the way. It wasn’t fair of him to fluster her so. She needed to find someone to spar with to calm her down. Unfortunately Kai had been avoiding her, and Iseult would probably murder her. Perhaps Bedelia would do.

  Eywen walked comfortably beside her. She briefly considered asking him to spar, then dismissed the idea. If she knew what was good for her, she would run far, far away from the ancient warrior. She trusted he would not harm her physically, but there were worse ways to hurt. She had promised herself that the first time she’d been betrayed, oh so long ago, would be the last. There would be no opportunity for it to happen again.

  After hanging her damp cloak on a hook near the fire in the main chamber, Finn sought out Kai. She had bread and cheese stuffed into a satchel, along with a waterskin. She was still the only one who knew about the first bite he’d sustained from the Dearg Due, the one that had gone uncleansed, though others suspected something was amiss. It was difficult to continue keeping the secret when Kai had taken to sleeping during the day, while avoiding his highly perceptive best friend, Anna.