Bourn’s Edge by Barbara Davies Page A

position on the grass. Her hands were bound in front of her, but otherwise the Fae were treating her well. They had even given her something to eat and drink. At first she had been reluctant to accept—she knew her fairytales—but Einion had sworn such tales were ill informed at best, fabrication at worst. In the end she had been so hungry she risked it—she had no idea what time it was but it seemed an age since breakfast. He’d given her a slab of crusty bread, cold sliced meats, some of which might be boar, and sweet pastries that melted on the tongue, then grabbed a jug of mead and two cups and escorted her outdoors to the meadow at the rear of the palace.
    Einion caught her studying him and arched an eyebrow. She gestured towards the rectangular area of daisy-dotted grass a few feet away. It had been roped off and at either end small gaily-coloured pavilions had been erected. Round its perimeter servants were placing rugs and low stools. Two panting servants carried a red velvet chair across the grass and set it down in a spot with a good view.
    “What’s the occasion?”
    “A contest,” said Einion.
    Gorgeously clad courtiers, some accompanied by wolfhounds, were gathering, gravitating towards the rugs and stools, greeting one another and exchanging pleasantries. There was a palpable sense of anticipation in the air.
    “What kind?”
    He sipped from his cup before answering. “Whatever Mab decrees. More mead?” Cassie shook her head. It was much too sweet for her taste.
    “Who are the contestants?”
    “Mab’s champions.”
    “And why must I watch?”
    “Because Mab commands it.”
    A group of nobles settled on stools a few feet to her right. From their stares and muffled asides she knew she must be the topic of conversation.
    “I feel like a monkey in the zoo.”
    “They mean you no harm.” Einion frowned. “I’m not sure the same can be said of him, however.”
    “Him?” Cassie followed his gaze to the entrance flap of one of the pavilions where a Fae, the most muscular she had seen, was standing, deep in conversation.
    “Cadel.” He glanced at her. “Queen’s Champion for the past two years.”
    “So he’s one of the contestants?”
    Einion nodded.
    She’d been wondering if she was imagining the faint drumming of horses’ hooves, but just then some horsemen galloped up. Her eyes flew to the only rider not wearing a grey cloak. If she hadn’t recognised that striking profile, the paint-spattered grey sweatshirt, blue jeans, and the two wolfhounds with her would have given the identity of the rider away.
    Her heart thumped. “What’s Tarian doing here?” He didn’t answer.
    As though she had heard Cassie, Tarian glanced in her direction. She leaned down and said something to her dogs, and they peeled off and bounded towards Cassie.
    “Hello, you two.” She fended off their greeting as best she could with her hands bound, but not before she had had her face licked. She found she was very glad to see them.
    They flopped down on the grass beside her. With a possessive air, the male dog—Anwar wasn’t it?—rested one paw on her leg. Drysi gave the nobles sitting close by a baleful look and drew back her lips from her teeth. They frowned and shifted their stools a few yards further away. Gratitude suffused Cassie as it dawned on her that Tarian had told the dogs to protect her.
    The grey-cloaked riders dismounted and ushered Tarian inside the pavilion before dispersing. Something Mab had said earlier came back to Cassie and made her stomach lurch.
    “She’s here because of me, isn’t she? Mab took me hostage to force her to come back.”
    Einion nodded. “Tarian has never before allowed herself to become entangled in a mortal’s affairs. Mab saw her chance and seized it.”
    “So she’s going to fight Cadel? But that’s ridiculous. How can she possibly win against the Queen’s Champion?”
    He smiled. “You wouldn’t think it to look at them, but they’re evenly matched.