Cathal.”
“I only showed the Iron Witch a weak spot—a way that might be exploited for entry into our lands. Her power did the rest.” Xan’s father smiled, ever so slightly. “Donna Underwood is powerful enough without my aid.”
Queen Isolde waved them away. “This is of no importance. The Iron Witch is here now and we will hear her offer. We can deal with Cathal later.”
Taran sheathed his sword, looking somewhat relieved. But the threat hung in the air, making Donna’s stomach hurt. She pulled herself straight, refusing to show this icy woman a single drop of weakness.
“What would you give me in return for the Ouroboros Blade, Donna Underwood of the alchemists?”
Donna shivered as she felt the queen’s power move across her skin. “What do you want, Your Highness?”
Isolde laughed. The sound was both beautiful and terrible. “You mean to tell me, girl, that you have come to my realm and yet have nothing with which to bargain?”
Donna smiled sweetly. “What could I possibly bring for the woman who has everything? Tucked away in your safe little world, not caring who lives and who dies, as long as you continue on.”
Taran drew his sword again. “Watch your tongue, girl!”
Cathal’s hand twitched at the pommel of his own blade, but he didn’t draw the weapon. Donna wondered if that was because he wasn’t supposed to, or because he didn’t want to threaten his son’s potential girlfriend. Or maybe he would protect her from Taran …
Isolde waved Taran away. “Be at ease, Taran. I admire the human’s spirit.”
Her knight glared halfheartedly at her, but he stood down.
The queen rose to her feet, giving Donna her first glimpse of just how tall she was. Isolde stood at least six feet, slender as a reed. Her bare feet poked out from below the hem of her gown. There were golden rings on each of her narrow toes.
Donna bowed her head, unable to continue staring at the ethereal radiance of the faery queen. Her throat was tight with an unnamed emotion.
Isolde walked carefully down the steps and approached her.
“The blade is not to be used lightly,” she said.
Donna forced herself to meet the queen’s eyes. “I know that. But I have to try.”
“You are tired, child,” Isolde said, her voice impossibly kind. A trick, of course. “Why take on so much? You should be in school with others of your age.”
Donna wanted to fall against her, let the queen put those slender arms around her. Hold her and offer comfort. Take away all the pain and fear and responsibility. It was so tempting. She took a step forward. Isolde was so kind, so beautiful, so …
Donna shook her head, confused and then angry. The queen was using her magic. Her glamour.
The court of Faerie laughed at her confusion and embarrassment.
Isolde smiled indulgently. “Please forgive me. It is in our nature to play.”
Donna narrowed her eyes. Yeah, right. Like she believed that. “I’m not a toy, Your Highness.”
“No, of course not,” Isolde replied, in a tone that clearly said she believed otherwise.
“So, you really have nothing to offer?” Isolde asked, all business again. “Remember that in order for any of us to give up an artifact that might help make the Stone, we must barter for a fair exchange. That is woven into the terms of the magic that binds us all together.”
“Let me think,” Donna said. “Maybe if you ask me for something, I could give it to you. Or … I don’t know … find something for you. I’m pretty good at finding things.”
“Did you hear that?” the queen asked, smiling at the giggling crowd of onlookers. “She is good at finding things.”
Everybody fell about laughing. Donna wasn’t sure what was so funny, but she gritted her teeth and put up with being mocked. It could be worse, she figured. They could decide to chop off her hands, just like they’d threatened when they were “playing.” There were enough swords around here, after all.
The faery queen looked thoughtful for a moment. “Would you give anything in return for the blade?”
Donna swallowed. Be careful, she told herself. Be very careful. “I cannot promise something before I know what it is that I’m promising.”
“Of course not,” Isolde said. “Wise. Very wise.” She tapped a slender finger against her lips.
Donna wished the queen would get on with it, but time moved differently in Faerie—she knew that much from Xan. For all she knew, only moments had gone by in her own world. Or perhaps Demian’s deadline had