Effie held up a hand. “Thank you, but I will be fine. Let the lass have it before she turns to ice.” She could tell he wanted to protest, so added, “Perhaps one of the lieutenant’s men might have a suitable wrapping. See if they can spare any food as well, and let the lieutenant know we will join him shortly.”
She tried a stoic face, but all of her aches—the bruising of her elbows and hands, and the scrapes along her knees—suddenly clamored for the same attention as her arm, and the weight of the evening sank in. Her body felt like lead, her mind like a jumble of beach stones pounded by vengeful waves.
But even as she fought to remain upright, a familiar warmth returned to her. She turned and found Caledon approaching, along with his companion. The steward’s hooked nose gave character to a handsome face that appeared almost as young as Effie’s own, despite his decades of maturity. His starched collar remained stiff and clean.
His companion’s coat had not fared as well. Some of the scrollwork had torn free. Blood stained his chest and shoulder, though Effie guessed from the way he carried himself that it was not his own. The fey held his chin high, his sharp features pulled into a bemused expression bordering on mocking.
Edgar wrapped his coat around Clara’s shoulders. She shied from the touch but accepted the offering, mumbling her gratitude.
“I will see to food and a bandage,” he said, dipping his head to Effie. He shot a glance at Jaelyn before bowing to Caledon and the other fey. As he withdrew, the warm torchlight fled. Those remaining were painted silver under the star and moonlight. Their breath came in cold, white puffs.
Gareth’s head found Effie’s hand. He studied her as she stroked behind his ear. Caledon took in the sight and grinned broadly. With a wink, he bowed. She curtsied, feeling as if she’d better straighten her hair before the next waltz began. That they stood on a frigid brae in the aftermath of battle was lost on the charm the steward naturally exuded.
“It is good to see you both well,” said Caledon after he bowed to Jaelyn. He gestured. “This is Gaelyph, Warden of the Hunt. He has come from Elphame to act as the eyes and ears of the Seily Court.”
Caledon’s companion dipped his head in a shallow nod. The brownie nodded in response. Effie did the same, though a thousand questions overwhelmed her. Warden of the Hunt? Had Elphame finally sent someone to aid them in tracking the Barrow Witch? And if so, why hadn’t they before?
Yet another matter pressed equally on her thoughts. “It is well you arrived and saved us from disaster,” she blurted, “but how did you manage it so swiftly, and to the very spot where we need you most?”
Caledon laughed. “By a trick, and a good one.”
Jaelyn snorted. “Only with friends in the right places,” said the brownie. “Ye could’ve warned us of yer intent.” Effie glanced between them. She felt left out of the joke, and it must’ve shown on her face.
“The way to Elphame is open to the steward,” Jaelyn explained. “He has the strength with so many fey roaming about these days. And though his feet be nae so muckle, sometimes he can step farther than a giant.”
Effie’s brow knit. She pulled her coat tight. “You traveled to Elphame and back just to arrive here?”
The steward dipped his head in acknowledgement. “It seemed the swiftest route.” He laughed again, the tenor light and full of amusement, but his companion’s face grew sterner. Effie saw Gaelyph studied Clara with something more than idle interest.
“Perhaps such humor would best be shared while not in the presence of an Unseily,” said the warden. His voice sounded as stodgy as his expression.
“Miss Bowman’s aura is known to me and has not yet changed. She will provide us no harm,” said Caledon. He took in the lass and addressed her directly. “You have the blood of our kind in your veins, though it has sadly treated you poorly.”
“A curse, my mother always claimed.” The girl hugged herself tight. She seemed close to tears. “What is to become of me?”
Effie heard defeat in the question. It tugged at her heart. That the lass didn’t beg for the protection of the queen’s soldiers, nor flinch at the mention of Unseily fey, meant she possessed awareness that a cruel fate awaited her.
“Grindylows are what Sithlings become when their auras are corrupted by this alchemy, as a pixie becomes a goblin,” said Effie. She tried to piece together what she’d learned. She thought of the other creatures they witnessed in the ravine. “And these others, the tusked ones. They must be corrupted brownies and hogboons.”
“She is as clever as you informed me,” Gaelyph told the steward. His voice hung thick with something close to derision. “If not wholly correct.”
Effie folded her arms across her chest but chose to ignore the warden. She’d borne such bluster and insult all her life. Her foot began to tap. She needed to uncover a means to help the poor lass. Her pain receded as her mind worked.
“I don’t understand,” she said. “We captured Cyrus Reed. How is this possible? How many can know the secret of this alchemy?”
“Only one is needed,” answered Caledon.
The truth struck her hard. “The Sidhe Bhreige.” Effie’s heart sank. “The Barrow Witch spreads the knowledge of this alchemy as easily as she does the banshee’s touch.”
“Aye, it be so,” Clara blurted. She swallowed and cast her gaze down as those gathered studied her. Tugging Edgar’s coat tighter, she trembled.
“It’s all right,” said Effie. “I will not let harm come to you. Nor will the steward.” She eyed Caledon and defied him to contradict her. “It will be difficult, but can you tell us what happened to you? Anything might be of help, no matter how small a detail.”
Clara nodded. She took a deep breath. “I ken not the names and creatures of which you speak. But alchemy, aye. They forced me to suffer down an unholy concoction. The creature—Tallia you called her—came for me in the night a week past. She stole me away, binding my hands and covering my eyes. We marched until I’d lost count of the times I’d fallen, only to remain here on this frozen stone for days.”
The girl shuddered at the memory. “Others of the host came and went, though I saw them not, blinded as I was. I only heard voices, squeals, and chittering. But it was Tallia who came in the night. Each night, to taunt me with horrid tales.” Clara’s voice caught. “She stalled, you see. I figured it after a while. We waited for something called the Aeger’s Gat.”
She shrugged. “I suppose it had to do with the alchemy.”
Effie’s eyes lit up. “Aegirsigath, could it be?” Aegirsigath was the ancient fey term for Aerfenium.
Clara’s head cocked. “Aye, that could be it. The brew it made. It... It tasted of blood and something more. Something thick. Something that made my innards twist in knots until I thought they’d melt and flush away.” She clutched herself around the middle.
“It is not an ordeal you should have had to suffer,” said Effie. She placed a reassuring hand on the girl’s arm. Yet in truth, her gut had curled as the lass spoke. Knowing the alchemy existed was far a different thing than hearing of it firsthand from one of its victims. Still, she focused on what Clara had told them. It shed light on many things, even as it begged more questions.