could laugh at her lame joke. But of course she was glad he wasn’t here, really. He was safer back in Ironbridge, even if he was being forced to spend time with Newton. She was pretty sure he wouldn’t let her hear the last of that particular task—if they succeeded in making the Stone and getting Demian out of all their lives, that is.
Etain led her from the hollow and across a wide field of grass that glittered like emeralds. The beauty of the setting took Donna’s breath away. Ahead, a grand marquee stood like a giant glittering jewel, with smaller tents around it and canopies made of a gossamer material Donna had never seen before sweeping from trees. It seemed the royal court of Faerie was having some kind of gathering, and she was just lucky enough to walk into the middle of it.
Etain touched her arm, careful to do so as far away from Donna’s tattoos as possible. “Behold, mortal. Queen Isolde’s Court of Air.”
Donna couldn’t help being impressed, even while she knew she was here for a purpose. Not that she was guaranteed success … she was pretty sure that Isolde wouldn’t just hand over the blade without some kind of terrible price. In fact, Donna wondered whether or not she would even be able to get out of here in one piece. She tried not to think about the fact that her next stop would have to be the Elflands. Aliette was going to be even more of a challenge than Isolde—she and Aliette had a history, after all.
Even though the faeries seemed more “human” and socialized on the surface than either the wood elves or the demons did, Donna knew they were just as inhuman. Fey morals were notoriously flexible—which was putting it kindly.
Queen Isolde was sitting on a throne made of tree roots. It rose up out of the ground and curved to form a seat, covered with golden cushions, below a high back that reached up toward the powder-blue sky. The gathered crowd murmured with anticipation and edged closer to the central dais.
As Donna moved toward the throne, she began to feel the faery queen’s power pressing on the edge of her awareness, like cool fingers scooping inside her head and trying to pull out something important. The air around Isolde glowed and flickered with energy. She was far more powerful than Aliette, and that was enough to make Donna’s knees shake. What was she even doing here? She was crazy. That had to be the explanation; it was the only one possible, really, considering the things she had done in the past twenty-four hours. The things she still had to do.
Donna stood before the queen and forced her shoulders back. She noticed Taran and Cathal, standing on either side of the throne. Taran stared straight ahead, his gaze not even flickering her way, but Cathal nodded his head at her. Donna squeezed her hands into fists. She hoped she had one ally here. Perhaps Cathal’s wish to make amends with his son could help her get the blade. Okay, so he’d gotten her through the door, but surely there was something more he could do to help. Her mind raced as Isolde looked her over, slowly, from head to foot, her cool green gaze cataloguing and judging.
Etain curtsied and lowered her head, not looking directly at her queen. “Your Highness, I present Donna of the alchemists to you.”
“The Iron Witch,” Isolde said, her tone gently mocking. She raised her angular brows and smiled. “I would say that you are welcome in Faerie, but I am afraid that would be an untruth. As you probably know, faeries of pure blood cannot lie.”
Donna swallowed. “Your Highness,” she began, following Etain’s lead with the faery queen’s title. “I’m sorry for the way I just walked in here, but as you know I am trying to stop the demons from destroying my world.”
“And you would risk your own life, in such an endeavor?”
“Why not? It’s not like I have anything else to lose. If I don’t at least try I’ll be dead anyway.”
Isolde’s perfect lips tightened into a thin line. “You poison our home with cold iron, mortal. I can smell it on you.” She looked around at her court. “I wonder,” she said, tapping her chin with one long finger. “I wonder what sort of penalty should be given for such a liberty?”
As if on cue, some of the gathered faeries began to call out