‘Here is the food.’ He passed the sack to Merry and set the bundle down on the floor. As he opened it, the fragrance of lavender spilt out into the air. ‘And here are some clothes.’
‘Clothes?’ Merry echoed.
‘If you are to journey through the kingdom, it would be as well if the pair of you looked less …’ He shrugged slightly. ‘Outlandish.’
‘Oh.’ Merry glanced down at her jeans and jumper, both covered in dried mud and bits of dead vegetation. ‘You think we need to blend in more.’
Jack nodded. ‘The customs of Northumberland are strange to us here.’ There was a slightly odd expression in his eyes. As Merry reached into the bundle he caught hold of her arm. ‘Though indeed, I have never seen such fine weaving, even on the queen’s robes.’ He lifted the fabric of her sleeve to examine it more closely, grazing her skin with his fingertips as he did so.
Merry drew her breath in sharply as Jack touched her. She couldn’t help it. The solidity of him, after so many months of grief and dreams, was a shock. The fact that he was warm and breathing, instead of lying cold and dead underneath the Black Lake. Every time she remembered, it hurt her like a plaster being ripped away too early from a partly healed wound.
Jack had let go of her arm and was holding out a pile of folded clothes. ‘Get changed.’
Merry grabbed the clothes and swung away from him.
Finn was frowning at her, clutching his own stack of clothes to his chest like a shield. Before she could say anything, he stalked outside.
She sighed.
At least the new clothes were warm. There was a long linen shift, a bit like a nightie; a blue, long-sleeved woollen dress over the top of that, and then a green sleeveless over-dress fastened at the shoulders with round brooches and at the waist with a woven belt. It was all a lot more colourful than Merry had expected. The brooches looked like silver, ornately carved into tiny, flowing animal shapes. There was a hooded, fur-lined cloak too.
When Merry returned to the cave entrance, Finn was already there. He looked older in his new outfit, more of a man and less of a boy. There was a sword belt slung round his hips, Leo’s sword in the scabbard. As Finn waited, one hand resting on the hilt, Merry couldn’t help remembering all the fairy stories she’d read as a child, where the handsome prince rescues the princess from a life spent doing housework, or stuck in a glass coffin. ‘You look … nice.’
‘Thanks,’ Finn said stiffly. He bent and picked up an apple and a hunk of cheese. ‘I’m going to stretch my legs.’
Merry didn’t have much of an appetite. She forced down a couple of handfuls of dried fruit, then went to repack her bag and refill the water bottles. It didn’t take long; after slipping the cloak round her shoulders and extinguishing the last globe of witch fire floating in the dark interior of the cave, she was ready to leave.
Jack appeared, mounted on Sorrel and leading a huge grey stallion that apparently answered to the name of Blossom. The horse neighed when it saw her, tossing its head and straining against the rope Jack had in his hand. To Merry’s disgust, Finn didn’t seem remotely concerned. He patted the horse on its neck and pulled himself on to its back quite easily. Then he held his hand out to her. ‘Shall we?’
There wasn’t really any choice. After a couple of undignified minutes spent being dragged up on to the horse by Finn, she was settled in front of him, gripping Blossom’s mane and clinging on with her knees while Finn held the reins.
‘Now,’ Jack glanced at Merry, ‘you must guide us.’
Merry opened the manuscript. ‘Please, take us to Meredith.’
The spiky writing appeared instantly.
Your way lies through the courts of the dead.
Whatever was speaking to her through the manuscript still seemed to have a thing for being cryptic. She read the instruction out to Jack. ‘Does that mean anything to you?’
He frowned for a minute or two before his face cleared. ‘It means the barrows. Obviously.’
‘Huh?’
‘The graves of the dead kings. This way.’ Jack set his horse walking.
Finn urged his horse forward too. ‘Ooh, the dead kings,’ he muttered into Merry’s ear. ‘Look at me, I know everything.’
‘He’s just trying to help. And we need him. We don’t know our way around here.’
‘I know, I know. But still, he’s really, really irritating.’
Merry couldn’t help it. She snapped back, ‘But in a lovable way, right?’
Finn straightened up and jerked the reins so the horse lurched forward, forcing Merry to hang on to Blossom’s neck.
Merry sighed, and wondered how many days it would take to reach Meredith.
The next three days were uneventful. The lands they rode through seemed empty of life, though every so often they passed the charred remains of wooden houses, blackened timbers sticking up out of the snow. In the sky above one ruined village Merry noticed large, reddish-brown birds of prey riding the wind.
Jack followed her gaze. ‘Kites,’ he murmured eventually. ‘Crows aren’t the only birds that eat the flesh of the dead.’
Merry looked away.
On the third night, they stopped near some ruins, the tumbled masonry and broken pillars hinting at a monumental past. After a quick meal, Jack lay down and went straight to sleep. Finn was sitting next to Merry, staring into the fire, his chin propped on one hand.
‘What are you thinking about?’
‘My family,’ Finn replied, not shifting his gaze from the flames. ‘Wondering how my dad’s going to take it, when he finds out that his only remaining son and heir is now a pleb.’
Guilt whispered in the back of Merry’s mind. ‘But he loves you, doesn’t he?’
‘Oh yes. He loves me,’ Finn replied softly.
‘Then … is he really going to care? Even if this turns out to be permanent, surely the most important thing will be that you’re back home again, and safe.’
‘You don’t understand,’ Finn was shaking his head. ‘My dad’s whole identity is bound up in his position, in magical society. Our family have been at the top of the pile for hundreds of years. If that ends on his watch, because of his sons, he’s going to feel like he’s failed. Like he’s let down every single generation since our house started. That’s why he—’ Finn broke off.
‘Why he what?’
‘Nothing.’ He winced and rubbed the centre of his chest.
‘Does it still hurt?’ Merry asked. ‘Where your magic used to be?’
‘It aches, the whole time. Kind of like … when you feel really starving hungry. But more painful. Makes me feel a bit sorry for Ronan.’
‘Seriously? But why?’
‘Because the magic he was born with didn’t last. So he has to steal magic from other people, but that never lasts, either. Don’t you think that he must feel like this the whole time?’
Merry frowned into the flames. Finn was probably right. And she did pity Ronan. Sort of. But when she thought about everything he’d done, all the people he’d hurt …
Some things just aren’t forgivable.
‘Can I ask you a question?’ Finn’s voice jerked her back to the present.
‘Sure.’
‘Are you still in love with Jack?’