Bourn’s Edge by Barbara Davies

outsize throne. In it sat a regal-looking woman in a silk gown of the deepest violet that clung to her in all the right places. Her hair was raven black, and she wore it long and flowing, held in place by a simple silver circlet. The milk white face beneath the circlet was proud and very beautiful. One long-fingered hand rested on the throne’s arm, the other fondled the ears of the wolfhound. To one side, on a wooden perch, sat a large crow observing proceedings.
    Dark eyes as keen as a hawk’s raked Cassie from head to toe. “Tarian would defy me for this ?”
    Mab was clearly furious, and Cassie braced herself for the worst. But instead of blasting her to smithereens, the woman let out a peal of laughter. The abrupt change of mood made the hairs on the back of Cassie’s neck stand up.
    “Good,” said Mab. “Let us see if we can convince her to return.”

 
    Chapter 8
    Tarian was lost in her painting when she became aware she had visitors. That prickling sensation was unmistakable. She extended her senses until she found its cause. A group of Fae was waiting in her back garden. They had horses with them.
    She put down her palette, placed the brush in a jar of water, and went through to the kitchen. Anwar and Drysi whined. “I know,” she told them. “It can’t be good.”
    She took a breath, opened the door, and stepped out. Four riders, two men and two women, were waiting by the hawthorn tree. Garan was one of them. The others were nobles from Mab’s court. They were dressed as though for the hunt, wearing grey cloaks and carrying light spears. Two of the horses shifted and sidestepped, betraying their riders’ nervousness.
    Am I to be their prey? The dogs pressed against Tarian’s legs, and she stroked their heads.
    “The Queen sent us to fetch you.” Garan indicated the spare mount: a black horse with a white blaze on its forehead.
    Tarian frowned. “She had my answer. What makes her think I’ll change my mind?”
    “Since we spoke there has been a development. The mortal is Mab’s prisoner.”
    Tarian’s mouth went dry. “Which mortal?” But she already knew the answer.
    “Cassie Lewis.”
    “Is she unharmed?” She must be terrified .
    Garan nodded. “And the Queen gives you her word that she will remain so if you come with us.”
    Her word , thought Tarian bleakly. On past evidence, what good is that? “I would be breaking our agreement.”
    “Have you forgotten already?” said Garan. “That agreement is now void.”
    Tarian balled her hands into fists. It was her fault that Cassie had attracted the Queen’s attention. What had possessed her? On a whim she had decided to play protector, because it amused her, because she could. And last night she had seen the results. Cassie’s feelings had been all too clear, and they were not the gratitude and admiration Tarian had been hoping for—she could admit it now. That had been chastening enough. Now this .
    She could not, would not, permit Cassie to pay for her self-indulgence. No doubt Mab knew that. She had always been a superlative chess player.
    “Very well,” she growled. At her answer, the tension dissipated, and the riders broke into smiles.
    Tarian considered whether to fetch her bow, but it would make little difference. She pulled the kitchen door closed behind her and strode over to the waiting Fae. Garan handed her the black horse’s reins. Tarian put her foot in the stirrup and mounted up.
    Two of the Fae wheeled their horses round and started towards the trees that abutted Tarian’s garden. Tarian kicked her horse into a walk and followed them, Anwar and Drysi trotting on either side. The remaining Fae brought up the rear.
    As they entered the forest, each rider slowed and leaned forward in the saddle to avoid the overhanging branches. Tarian gave the house where she had spent the past two years a last wistful look, then she leaned forward too.
     
    CASSIE’S BUTTOCKS HAD gone numb. She shifted into a more comfortable