Reine and Rhys Are Banished

I paced back and forth over the rocky ground, the stones grumbling underneath my stomping feet. I told the rocks to hush, but I trod more carefully. They’d been soaked with enough blood that day to be frisky. I knew because I could feel it, smell it, taste it… And not in a pleasant way. This blood sang of despair, injustice, and fear, a dirge that dragged my heart and spirit down. It had been a mighty battle, long odds, and the Scots had lost. Oh, how they’d lost. Even now, the victors walked the field and searched the surrounding woods looking for survivors to slay. And they, the supposedly civilized humans, called us barbaric, immoral.

I hated them this evening.

I looked up again, willing the turning of the stars to not tell me how much time had passed. We’d gone from “a few minutes late” to “the queen is going to flip her crown” an hour ago. Where was Rhys? I wanted to look for him, but I didn’t want to leave our meeting spot in case he showed up. Then we’d be hopelessly lost looking for each other, the miasma of pain and gore obfuscating any signal we may want to send to each other.

The snap of a twig made me back into the shadow of the cairn, and I held my breath, not even allowing the flicker of an eyelash to betray my position. Some of the warriors had used blessed silver blades. I’d felt their signatures slicing through the air. Indeed, my left eardrum still throbbed. While we were nigh immortal, a cleverly wielded blade could finish us, as could the ripping out of a heart or throat. Immortal meant powerful, but not invincible. And now my heart thudded with terror for Rhys.

“Go and observe the battle and bring us a report,” our grandmother, the queen, had told us. “But don’t be seen, and for gods’ sake, don’t get involved. We’ve heard the vargamore is involved, and we need to know what he’s up to.”

The vargamore and his Order of the Silver Arrow had, indeed, participated and had turned the battle toward the English. The poor Scots hadn’t stood a chance.

And what of us? As always before we left, my mother pulled me aside and said, “Watch out for your brother.”

“Mother, we’re both adults. He’s just reached his second century, I my third.”

“Yes,” she’d replied, her fingers digging into my arm. “But he’s still impulsive. And men…” She shook her head. She’d never forgiven my father for defecting to the Unseelie Court and therefore considered all male things to be unreliable and fickle. Thus far I hadn’t seen any evidence to the contrary. But still, I’d agreed with Rhys that we could gather more intelligence if we split up.

“Reine,” someone gasped. Someone in pain. Someone who sounded like my brother. He stumbled into the circle, a bloodied cloth held to his face.

I didn’t even check to see if anyone followed him, I just rushed to him and held a hand to his face over the cloth. The cut stung my palm through the coarse kerchief. “What happened?”

“Englishman with a knife surprised me.” His words came out garbled, and blood dribbled from his lips.

“You’re a better fighter than this.”

“He wasn’t alone. There was…” He took a deep shuddering breath. “A gargoyle. He was fast.”

“Ugh.” I hated the half-earth, half-water elementals. Always putting on airs and acting like they were equal to those of us who had all  elements.“What did that water spout do to you?”

“Fought me. His buddy got in a strike when I was distracted.”

I peeled the cloth away from his face and tried not to wince when I saw the wound. The knife had gone through his cheek but thankfully hadn’t taken an eye, although it had gotten close. “When did this happen?”

“A few hours ago. I had to run and hide.” Disgust came through his tone, but also fear, which vibrated in my core like an out-of-tune lute.

“A few hours ago?”

He nodded, then grimaced, then winced.

“For gods’ sake, stay still,” I whispered, watching the lips of the wound move with his motions.

“Is it bad, Reine? I mean, bad-bad?”

I swallowed around the bitter stone that had lodged in my throat. “It…doesn’t look good.”

“But you’re a healer. Can’t you do something?”

“Hush.” I covered the wound with my hand. It seared my palm, and I could hear the injured substances, a sussurus of small wails and cries. I wanted to wail and cry along with them. They should have been in more harmony, starting to knit together and come into accord, but instead, they each ached with their own pain. “It’s not healing. Tell me about this Englishman.”

“He… He was dressed as a knight of some sort. Not as a soldier.”

“A Templar.” Rumor had it that some had escaped mad King Philip and lived in the out-of-the-way places, coming forth when there were battles. We’d also heard they’d allied with the Order of the Silver Arrow.

“And his knife had a cross etched into it.”

“Rhys! Why did you fight? Why didn’t you run right away?”

He flung my hand from his face, confirming what I’d feared – he’d gotten himself into this. “He insulted me. Insulted us, Reine. Told me we’d be damned if we didn’t convert to worship his god. Like that water spout had.”

“Damnit, Rhys.” His blood flaked from my hand and fell in ash-like particles to the ground, joining the chorus. “We have to go to grandmother. This is beyond me.”

“No, Reine! Mother will see. We’ll be banished.”

I crossed my arms, frustrated and fearful of the consequences of his actions. Of my allowing him to go on his own. Of my thinking he could manage himself. “You’ll be banished. And maybe I’ll finally be rid of you.”

He recoiled. “That’s not fair, Reine.”

“What’s not fair? That I can’t live my own life because I’m saddled with you? That I’m stuck babysitting a grown Fey because our father made a bad choice? That—”

A cool hand on my shoulder made me choke on my words and wheel around. I realized then where we were standing – in the circle – and our conversation must have drawn the attention of those on the other side, in Faerie.

“Enough, Reine,” my mother said. She looked out of place there in the clearing. Her luminous blue gowns made everything look dark, and Rhys’ and my human clothes even dingier than they already were. I looked to her for some sort of compassion, but her lips were pressed together and her eyes slitted in anger…directed at me.

“Mother, I…”

She shook her head, and I shut up.

“Reine, what did I tell you? Watch over him. Protect him.”

“But I can’t hold his hand through his entire life!”

“And you can’t protect him from a madman with a knife and a gargoyle? You know your powers are stronger than his.”

“We were following orders.” I hated how petulant I sounded

“You split up. You were enjoying your freedom.”

I couldn’t argue, although that was only half the truth. But I knew the look on her face – she would believe what she wanted.

“It’s true, Mother,” Rhys said. “I suggested we split up.”

I closed my eyes, not sure if him taking credit for the idea would help or hurt. I got my answer when she replied.

“You should never have allowed that, Reine. You know he won’t be allowed back in Faerie with his wound. And therefore neither will you.”

“No!” I opened my eyes and fell to my knees. “You can’t banish me. You can’t force me to take responsibility for him. Please!”

“Those are the rules, Reine,” she said as she started to fade. “I will send you all the resources I can, and you will be able to make your way as a healer. But be careful. The humans will burn you if they think you’re anything other than one of them.” She looked at Rhys, and the only soft expression I’d seen on her face appeared. “Beloved son, I forgive you.” Then she blinked out. I noticed she didn’t say she’d forgiven me. I couldn’t convince myself I didn’t care. In fact, caring had been my problem. I’d cared too much about him and hadn’t focused enough on forging my own path.

“What now?” Rhys asked.

I sighed. Even if I was angrier than I ever had been with him, he needed attention. “Follow me. I know a healer who’s nearby. Maybe between the two of us, we can figure out what to do with you. And maybe she’ll help us.”

“And the English won’t have found her?”

“I hope not.” I suspected not – I’d put a charm on her hovel such that only those with good intentions toward her could find it. I hoped we qualified.