Chapter 10

Grainne and Sir Diarmuid had been travelling with great haste for several hours before their horses grew weary and they paused to let them graze and drink. They were far from Thornacre now, but Grainne did not know where they were. She did not have a great interest in geography, but she guessed that the nearest kingdom could not be that far away, even if she did not know which kingdom it was.

They had come to a stop among woodland and allowed their horses to drink from the stream and eat from Sir Diarmuid’s stash of oats. He then retrieved two apples from his bag and tossed one to Grainne who was sat against a tree braiding her hair. She paused grooming her hair and caught the fruit hurtling towards her so fast that Diarmuid felt bad for thinking that she was so preoccupied with her braid that it would hit her. She smirked at him

“Thank you, I am starving,” she said. Diarmuid rolled his eyes and turned away from her, running his hand over the coarse mane of his stallion, Champion. He felt Grainne’s stare on him as she ate “Why do you avoid my gaze?”

“You are promised to Lord Finn, my Lady” He responded. Grainne let out an unladylike snort and took another bite of her apple

“No, I am not. That is why we are running away. So you and I can be together” This time Sir Diarmuid turned to look at her

“I cannot do that, my Lady. Lord Finn_”

“Ugh!” Grainne exclaimed “The name repulses me! What about him do you love so much?”

“You would not understand” Sir Diarmuid responded. Grainne tossed her apple core away and stood up, approaching him as he turned back to look at Champion

“I bet I would” She said in a softer tone, resting a hand on his arm

“No, you wouldn’t. You do not have a strong relationship to your father” The words hit Grainne like a punch in the stomach but she refused to let him know that

“Lord Finn is not your father” She said frowning in confusion. Sir Diarmuid turned to face her; the Bol Shercha was blazing with beauty on his forehead and his eyes danced with anxiety and anger

“No. But he has looked after me for many years, and I am nothing if not loyal to him” He said in a low voice, quiet but forthright enough to send chills down Grainne’s spine

“Yet you betrayed him” she replied

“Because I do not want a geis, I have more than enough issues already with this,” He raised a finger to point at the spot and Grainne smirked a little “I am running to save my own skin, not yours. And when he finds us, and he will, he shall know that I have not laid a finger on you” Grainne released his arm, suddenly furious

“I do not care what he is to you; he has been nothing but a selfish tyrant to me. He thinks I am some kind of prize he can display in a cabinet, he treats me no better than a common w***e,” she blurted out, waving her hands in exasperation “I am not running away for him to find me, I cannot marry him. I cannot” Sir Diarmuid watched as her eyes seemed to search his face as she spoke. He could see the desperation in her expression and recalled the glee he had seen on her face when he had knocked out the guards. It was true; she was not running as some kind of stunt to get Lord Finn to prove his love to her. Whoever Finn was to him, Grainne could tell another story.

Sir Diarmuid let out a sigh and covered his forehead with his hair, Grainne had seen it now and the spot could no longer do anything to her but it was a habit he had fought hard to maintain. He reached out to tuck a loose strand of Grainne’s hair behind her ear

“Alright,” He said, defeated “Alright. I am sorry, I did not realise,” Grainne only watched him in reply. Sir Diarmuid looked around before settling his gaze westward “My Uncle lives not far from here. He has never been fond of Lord Finn. He could help us”

“Are you sure?”  Grainne was certain that Diarmuid was as lost as she was, she was not aware that he knew where they were going

“Positive, come on. Lord Finn and his men will be after us, you know” He said before mounting his horse, Grainne stroked Thunderfoot’s nose before climbing onto his back too. She gave his sides a squeeze and followed Sir Diarmuid as he began to head West.

 

****

The clouds were black and hanging low over the village, the weight of them resting heavily on the Thorn King’s head as he stepped out into the oppressive atmosphere.

The air was old and still, held condensed under the lid of the clouds. There was no wind, no refreshing lick to cool the brow of the working villagers. The humidity brought the village to an almost stand-still apart from the growing line of people queuing up to use the well.

His cloak clung to his body like a frightened child clings to its mother. Within moments the King’s brow was dotted with sweat that made his infections itch around the thorns.  He let his gaze wander over the village and out onto the fields and crumbling clifftops.

The Traveller’s Market was no longer in the field behind the village wall and for once the King did not blame them. The grass had turned limp and lifeless, the luscious green it once was had turned a rusty brown. Mud caked the tracks where the wagons had been and the rain from the night before had turned it into no more than a swamp.

The King released a heavy sigh, a small breeze against the wall of humidity. With Aniya gone, the weather had taken a turn for the worst, scarring the land with her absence. She barely kept the land alive as it was, and now she was gone it would not be long until everything began to die and turn into the wasteland they had arrived in. The King could only imagine how beautiful Darkwell looked now she was there, provided she was alive at least…

The front doors creaked open and the King was brought out of his morbid thoughts by Fenne walking out , dressed in her dark purple cloak of velvet with her hood up to cover her face. He smiled grimly at her, his lips pinched into a tight uncomfortable line. Fenne mimicked it in reply and joined her father at his side, looking out at the village and the mountains just as he had done moments before

“How long do you think it will be until people run out of food and water?” She asked. The King breathed in, holding his breath for moments before letting it out

“Come on. Gwyn does not approve of lateness” He said, dropping his gaze to her powdered face, newly styled hair and the collection of rings on her fingers. Fenne ducked her head

“Sorry,” She mumbled “Grainne always said to look pretty if you are to meet a Faerie” The Thorn King narrowed his eyes at this before turning away from her and starting to stride down the hill that the Thorn Court stood upon, his arms swinging briskly at his sides. Fenne gathered her skirts and stumbled after him, she had not thought to wear walking boots, her feet slipped around in her flimsy shoes and she twisted her ankles on the uneven ground.

The Thorn King was several feet away by the time she had gotten to the bottom of the slope, with an irritated sigh she kicked her shoes into a nearby bush and began to trot after him trying to dodge the thistles and stones on the ground as she fought to catch up. Her hair stuck to her face and she regretted wearing a cloak as she ran through the curtain of hanging dew that closed in on her body and to breathe was like lifting a great weight.

Her father gave her a cursory glance when she finally caught up with him. Though there were many beads of sweat over his forehead, his face remained unreadable and seemingly unfazed by the weather. Fenne’s chest was heaving and she wiped her brow on her cloak as she tried to mimic her father’s long strides so she did not lose him again.

“You did not have to come” he said after a momentary silence. His voice was heavy �" perhaps the atmosphere was causing him more discomfort than he let on.

“You wanted me to” She replied with a shrug. The King looked at her for a long moment before looking in front of him again.

They walked in silence, keeping to the shade of the bare trees though the civilians of Thornacre were too intent on getting water to notice they were there at all. The King knew that with Aniya gone the people would begin to starve, her magic helped crops to grow and without it they would soon run out of food. Without the natural order of things, the rivers and springs would dry out thus leaving the land dry and unproductive. Everything but the King and his daughters would die of starvation and water deprivation, and he would suffer for it.

The council of Darkwell had charged him with the punishment of raising a Kingdom of thieves and bandits, if he was found to have failed them and the population decreased, he did not know what awful thing they would do to him. Death was not going to be an option, much to the King’s dismay.

The Thorn King shook his head to brush off the thought as he had done many times before. His people dying was not an option, he would not let that happen. Aynia would be found and life would go back to how it was before, no matter how tiresome and lengthy it was. Perhaps if he explained his situation to Aynia, she would understand and marry whomever he saw fit to release him from this torture. Perchance this would be the case, but he was not ready to take such a risk. They would think he was abandoning them, but once they were married and began their new lives on their own, their father would be superfluous to requirement.

The Thorn King slowed his pace as they approached the Pass of Lost Existence, the archway stood stark against the muggy sky, looming over the pair as if challenging them to cross. Fenne came to a halt next to her father, keeping close to his side as his eyes trailed along the brickwork. His gaze distant as if he were far away, lost in a dream �" or a nightmare.

Gwyn the Hunter was leant against the side of the arch as if it meant no more to him than an old table. His arms were crossed loosely over his chest and the curled strands of his hair stirred in the non-existent wind, his skin was free from sweat and did not look affected at all by the humidity. His antlers were as majestic as ever, towering over his head in a way that would put even the most beautiful deer to shame.

He was like a statue, Fenne thought; his face was angular yet handsome as if a carpenter had chiselled his features with the finest tools of the trade. It was a face that could have made even the most beautiful beings bow to his supremacy but although Fenne admired his beauty, her stomach recoiled and she had a strong urge to step away and hide behind her father for she knew that Gwyn the Hunter was as menacing as he was lovely. 

She had felt the same knot in her insides that she had felt when Gwyn had come to the Thorn Court, she wanted to turn and run out of the building but at the same time she wished to stay and admire his beauty. Her heart had sunk to the pit of her very being when he had taken Sir Raymundus for his own. She knew that the knight had been her father’s favourite though he would never admit that and she could only imagine the thoughts that must have ran through his head when he had agreed to let him go.

The leader of the Wild Hunt’s gaze flicked up at them as they stood a few feet away from the arch. The corner of his thin lips quirked up into a smirk and he pushed himself off of the arch, approaching the King and his daughter. He came to a halt opposite them, giving the King no more than a glance and Fenne a lecherous look from head to toe, an eyebrow rose at her bare feet and she let loose the skirts of her dress to hide them. Amusement sparked in the Hunter’s eyes before vanishing completely and he looked once more to the Thorn King

“What a pretty daughter you have” He said by way of greeting. The Thorn King kept his anger intact, he did not wish to displease Gwyn and give him a reason to stop helping him

“Thank you.” He said tightly “What news do you have about Aynia’s whereabouts?”

“Regrettably very little, Thorned One” Gwyn replied. The King’s hands clenched at his sides in annoyance

“Is she in Darkwell?” He questioned. Fenne could see how hard it was for her father to keep the edge out of his tone and his face expressionless.

“Undoubtedly. The grass is as green and luscious as it once was when you were king, the birds sing harmoniously and the sun beams down on many a happy Darkwelian” Gwyn explained

“Well, how nice.” The Thorn King said sarcastically “But that does not answer my question”

“Yes it does. Perfectly. You asked if she was in Darkwell, I told you that she is; what more can you ask for?” Gwyn asked

“I want her found!” The King’s voice raised but this was precisely what Gwyn wanted. He found it amusing to wind the King up, to break down the barrier he put between people and his emotions. Though amusement glinted in his eyes, the Hunter did not smile. The King pressed on, eyes blazing with fury “You know she is in Darkwell, so why have you not brought her back to me?!”

“It is not that simple, Thorn King,” Gwyn told him “She is being held hostage”

“Do not give me that nonsense. You are powerful, Gwyn, kill the brute who has my daughter” For a moment, something that looked like sympathy flashed in the Hunter’s eyes but it was gone within moments of its arrival.

“The Wild Hunt does not kill, Prickled One, we gather the fallen. Furthermore, we do not take orders from you” Gwyn replied. The King was about to argue further when Fenne approached him, setting her jaw and squaring her shoulders

“But it was what you agreed. Father sacrificed Sir Raymundus so you would return my sister to us” She said. Gwyn looked at her strangely, tilting his head and watching her as if he had not expected her to speak out like she had.

“Yes. That is true,” He admitted “But the matter is a lot more complicated than it seems”

“What does that mean?” Fenne asked. Gwyn shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot

“I have not been entirely honest with you, Thorn Princess” He told them

“Then be honest. I will not tolerate secrets” Fenne said so boldly that the Thorn King looked at her in disbelief. Gwyn nodded very slightly before taking a big breath and looking between them both

“Alright, but you may want to sit down”

Author's Note

Let me know what you think so far!