Heart of the Fae (The Otherworld #1)(70)

“What was that?” Sorcha whispered.

“My husband.”

“There are more of you?”

“It takes two to make children.”

“What manner of Fae are you?”

“Do not waste the blood of my children. Look into the scrying pool and see the truth of the Seelie Fae.”

Sorcha wanted to follow the injured woman to insist that she might help. Of all people, she could set a broken bone, wrap the injury, pack it with herbs so it didn’t get infected. But these were Unseelie Fae. They would not want her help.

Swallowing hard, she nodded.

Black water swirled with blood. She placed her hands on the side and leaned over until she could peer into the depths.

“What am I looking for?” she asked.

“There are images even in the darkest of places.” The Queen placed her large hands on top of Sorcha’s. Her flesh was frigid. “See the truth.”

A dwarf appeared in the water. His beard tangled around his ankles and he fell onto the ground. He reached out to stop himself, but a whip cracked through the air before he touched the ground. His face twisted in pain and he lay still.

Another man walked towards him, golden hair swinging at his waist. The golden newcomer was perfect in every way. His skin glittered in the sun, his eyes strikingly green. He held the whip coiled around his wrist and nudged the fallen dwarf with a look of disgust.

“What is he doing?” she asked.

“They use the dwarves to mine for copper and gold. When anyone tries to leave, they whip them until they either return or die.”

“Why?”

“They want the gold but are not willing to work for themselves.”

The image shuddered, shifting to reveal a beautiful pixie. Her forehead arched up into points, looking very like an autumn leaf. Blushing colors painted her skin, furthering her autumnal look. Black eyes swallowed any white that might have existed on a human, but still seemed kind.

The pixie winced and rubbed her hand over the opposite wrist. Skin burned red around a brand in the mark of a trinity knot.

“What is that?” Sorcha asked.

“The faeries are branded depending upon who they call master. Each of the lesser fae are born with this mark, but it can stretch and distort as they grow. It will be burned again into their bodies if it is difficult to tell who’s mark it is.”

“Why brand them? Why not simply know who works for you?”

“So, the faeries can’t slip away in the dead of night and disappear.”

Sorcha’s mind raced. She knew what that meant, what darkness the Unseelie suggested brewed in the Seelie lands. “They’re slaves?”

“They most certainly are. Their king has turned them into little more than beasts to trade. They are born, bought, and worked to death long before they see their families grow.”

“It doesn’t make any sense,” she muttered. “Why force your people to be unhealthy? It isn’t the mark of a good king if he cannot provide a good life for all his people.”

“Were you under the impression that the wise king is a good one?”

“Wise king?”

The Queen snorted, retreating from the altar with great thudding steps. “It is the name he has given himself. Wise, for his knowledge is vast.”

“Knowledge does not mean intelligence.”

“Astute for a human child.”

“You are not the first to say so.”

“One last vision especially for you, Sorcha of Ui Neill.”

Brows furrowed, Sorcha leaned over the pool and stared into the dark waters.

A woman appeared, painfully beautiful and holding her hand over her belly. Her waist length blonde hair swept nearly to the floor. Silver silk fabric poured from her shoulders to sweep the crystal floor.

“Who is she?” Sorcha asked.

“Elva, the most prized concubine of the king. Her mother was one of my most prized followers.” The Queen tapped the water with her nail. “She has just realized that she may be pregnant.”

“Isn’t that a good thing?”

“That is not up to me to decide. You will need to know her name. You say you are a good person, midwife. This is one who you could save.”

Sorcha looked up. “Why would you want me to save any of the Seelie?”

“I am not a heartless creature. There are some who deserve to live and others who I would relish crushing their skulls beneath my hands. Elva is one whose true name I give to you in full confidence you will use it well.”

Another of the Queen’s daughters stepped forward, and Sorcha winced in preparation for the next dark deed. She couldn’t take much more of this. The Unseelie were always rumored to be twisted and depraved, but how far did that insanity travel?

Did they feast upon it rather than food?

“Peace,” the Queen whispered. “You have seen enough bloodshed.”

The Princess reached up and held a mirror towards her mother. Vines tangled around the handle. It was as large as Sorcha was tall, and the Queen held it as if it were nothing more than a handheld mirror.

“Do you know our history?” the Queen asked. “Do you know the difference between Seelie and Unseelie?”

“Your kind gave up honor and law to live wild and free.”

“Yes. And do you think we made the wrong choice?”