“We require passage into the Deep Wyld,” Grimalkin said calmly, not moving a whisker as one of the chicken talons scratched the ground, leaving deep gouges in the earth. “Without traveling through the territory of any of the courts.”
“All of you?” The witch sniffed, looking up at us as we approached the front of the cottage. “Why do you need to...ah, I see the reason.” Her beady gaze fixed on Keirran, and she flashed a toothy grin. “Got the little exiled prince with you, eh? Trying to get around the rules? Well, Iron Queen, I’m scandalized.” She cackled loudly, and I set my jaw, trying to stifle the instant anger rising within. “But, this entire mess came of you and the former Winter prince breaking the laws, so I suppose it is to be expected. Now you see why there are rules and Faery law. You’ll just have to live with the consequences.”
“And I would do it again,” Meghan stated calmly. “A hundred times over. If I knew exactly what would happen, nothing would change.”
Though she wasn’t looking at me as she said it, I felt my throat tighten. I’d lived in Faery my whole life; sometimes I’d forget that Meghan had been born a human, and that she’d left her entire world behind to live in the Nevernever. I never doubted she loved me, and she would give up everything she knew to be with me and rule in the Iron Kingdom even now, but it was always nice to hear her confirm it.
“Hmph.” The Bone Witch gave a loud sniff. “We’ll see if you can still say that in the future, child.” With a final chuckle, she stepped back, gesturing to us with a withered claw. “Come inside then, all of you. Try not to touch anything. I do not want to spend the night having to craft a cure frog potion. And, Goodfellow, if I see your fingers drifting anywhere near anything, I’ll turn them into slugs.”
“Not the worst thing that’s happened to me,” Puck said, and grinned. But he stuck both hands in his hoodie pocket, and we all followed the witch up the rickety steps into her cottage.
It was surprisingly tidy, all things considered. A large black cauldron bubbled out some kind of greenish mist against the fireplace, but the wooden floor was free of clutter. Shelves ran the length of the wall and were filled with boxes and jars of what you would expect to find in a witch’s hut: snake eyes, piskie wings, hen’s teeth, and the like. Puck bumped his head on a string of dried crow’s feet hanging over the door, and wrinkled his nose when he saw what hit him.
“I’d offer you tea,” the witch said, taking a gnarled root from the top shelf and casually tossing it into the cauldron, “but I don’t believe you’ll be staying very long.” She looked at Grimalkin, who had taken a seat atop the only large chair in the room. “What part of the Deep Wyld were you hoping to get to?”
Grimalkin flattened his ears. “His territory, unfortunately,” he said, as if saying the Wolf’s name was somehow distasteful. “Whatever part of the Deep Wyld he is currently roaming in.”
“I see. Don’t ask for much, do you?” The Bone Witch sniffed and took a kettle off the fire. “One does not simply find the great Hunter in the Deep Wyld,” she said, “especially since he could be anywhere.” She turned and poured a thin stream of greenish liquid into a cracked teacup on the table, then put the kettle back over the fire. “Fortunately for you, I happen to know where he is. Or, at least his last known location. Let us hope he has not moved on, because it would be difficult to track him down again.”
“Excuse me.” This from my son, who had been worryingly silent until now. Ever since his banishment from Faery, Keirran had become very withdrawn, speaking only when he had to and hovering at the edges of conversation. It concerned me; before the war with the Forgotten, my son had always been cheerful and outgoing. Now, I saw shadows of my old self in him; quiet, somber, purposefully detached from the world. He carried the guilt of what he’d done on his shoulders, but he was also part Unseelie, and that legacy of darkness clung to him as well. I wished I knew how to help him, but I recognized, better than anyone, that he had to come to terms with his past himself.
“Oh, the Forgotten King speaks.” The witch shot Keirran a toothy smile that looked like jagged bits of bone. “And so polite, just like his sire. What can I do for you, Your Highness?”
“How are we getting to the Deep Wyld?” Keirran asked. “According to Grimalkin, the nearest trod is many miles away. Are we going to walk there in this...lovely house?”
The Bone Witch chuckled.
“Of course, we’re going to walk there,” she said. “But don’t worry. As I’m sure you’ve already surmised, this is not a normal house.” She took a sip from her teacup, sighed happily, and sat down on a stool that was made of bones. “I would hold on to something, if I were you.”
She snapped her fingers, and the floor beneath us gave a violent lurch, as the house stood up like a giant bird getting to its feet. I braced myself, catching hold of Meghan as the entire hut swayed from side to side. Puck stumbled, falling against a wall and barely managing not to knock over an entire shelf, while Nyx and Keirran shifted their weight to account for the sudden upheaval under their feet. The witch cackled and took another sip of her tea.
“Off we go,” she announced, and the house surged forward.
I had been on a ship once, in the middle of a violent storm. I remembered the wild swaying of the deck, pitching from side to side. I recalled the floor roiling and bobbing under my feet, the ship at the mercy of the huge waves crashing against the sides.
This was probably worse.
I put my back to a wall, braced my feet, and locked my arms around Meghan as we waited for the wild ride to be over. She pressed herself back into me, crossing her arms and ignoring the tempting handholds dangling from the ceiling. Walls creaked, furniture rattled, and the items on the ceiling clattered against each other as the shack loped steadily through the forest, smacking aside branches and crushing things underfoot. Keirran and Nyx had claimed another corner, and seemed to be keeping their feet, though Keirran would occasionally put a hand against the wall when the house jerked or turned in an unexpected direction. Nyx, I noticed, barely moved, perfectly balanced through the entire wild ride. After a few times of being jostled against the wall, Puck finally gave up and sat on the floor.
Finally, the house slowed, going from a jarring lope to a less bouncy walk, before finally coming to a halt. I glanced down at Meghan, who looked relieved that it was over. Her body was stiff against mine, though she was trying not to appear tense.
“Are you all right?” I asked softly.
She nodded, uncoiling a bit in my arms. “I think I prefer our spider carriages back home.”
With a final, violent heave, the floor dropped several feet as the house sank to the ground, then shuffled a bit as it got comfortable. I then noticed that the sky through the single cottage window was no longer sunny; somehow, and without any of us noticing, it had become pitch-black.