Page 113 of The Changeling

‘You do! You know the price!’

‘Once, twice, thrice, must die a willing sacrifice,’ I whispered.

‘Once by blade, once by fire, once by water, blood on the throne at the year’s dark cross-quarter.’

‘Whose blood?’ the old woman demanded.

‘Mine,’ I whimpered. ‘My blood.’

I woke, trembling.

In his sleep, Robbie drew me closer. His hand stroked my hair, caressed my hip. I sat up and looked at him intently. His eyes moved under his lids.

‘Caiti,’ he said in a tone of anguish. ‘Please.’

‘I’m here. I’m here, my love.’

He quietened again.

Soon it would be midnight, and once again I must go with him into the green hill. Till then I would cradle him in my arms, his head on my breast, and let him rest. It might be the last time I could ever do so.

I stroked back his curls, kissed his temple. ‘I didna ensorcell you on purpose,’ I told him, even though he could not hear. ‘My love was true, I swear to you.’

When the clock struck twelve, Robbie stirred and sat up. I was ready. I loosened the red cord so he could rise and dress, then put on my kirtle and boots and wrapped my plaid about me. Already he was moving out the door, running down the steps. I caught up my stick, and followed him as fast as I could, Carlin slinking at my heels like my shadow. The whole castle slept, even the pageboy in his chair and the guards on the gate. I marvelled at my mother’s power.

What would I do if I could so exert my will upon the world?

I came out into the cold, frosty night. Above me, aeons of stars glittered. The moon was new and perfect as a baby’s fingernail. I closed my eyes, crossed my fingers, and made the impossible wish.

Let there be a world where love is never wrong.

Robbie came out of the stable with his stallion, bridled and saddled, and swung up lightly. Once again, I leapt up behind him and we galloped into the night. Once again, Carlin ran behind, not understanding where I went or why, only that she would follow me to her death, if need be.

I bade her stay on the hill outside the cave. She sank to her haunches, puzzled amber eyes fixed on my face. I took her dear whiskery face in my hands and rocked it to and fro, perhaps for the last time. ‘Good dog. Good dog.’

Then I left her and followed my love into the hill.

The great cavern was crowded with faery folk, more than I had ever seen before. The music was a fever in my blood. I wanted to sing like a faery maiden, my voice a compulsion that could not be withstood. I wanted to dance like a faery maiden, so sensuous and wild. I wanted to press my body to Robbie’s and have him lay me down and bruise me with his mouth.

Robbie danced and danced and danced. I could not bear it. I pushed my way through the crowd, looking for my mother.

Her throne was empty, her staff gone.

The little faery girl sat cross-legged on the floor. A robin perched on her finger, singing. She sang back to it in its own language. I sank down to the floor, enchanted.

‘If only the princess knew,’ a faery maiden whispered above my head, ‘that three bites of that little bird would make the sick lord as well as ever he was.’

I had to swallow, and wiped my damp hands on my skirt. Could it really be that easy? Did they lull me into a trap?

I crept a little closer, my eyes fixed on the trilling bird. The little girl turned to face me, the robin still perched on her finger.

‘Did you learn to laugh?’ she asked, in a high sweet voice.

I nodded.

‘I’m glad. I never did.’

‘Did you learn to love?’ I asked.