There is something profound that runs through the Fae. It is something like instinct, but deeper, and it is this that draws the madness out. It is a perfect alignment of desire and action, and a complete subversion of conscience. When deeply in the madness, when in the full grip of it, those with Fae blood do what they want, not what they should.
I only came back to myself after I had raced down the Bower, through the Hollowed Hall, and out across the clearing. The first memory I have of seeing the world instead of experiencing it was when I saw a flash of movement, perhaps the swirl of a cloak or the disappearing heel of a boot, at the very edge of the tree line. I raced toward it, breathing lightly, strength surging through me. I was grinning like a lunatic, and only in the dim recesses of my mind did I realize that somehow I had gone too deep, somehow I was in the grip of real, true madness.
I shivered again with the ecstasy of it and barely suppressed a sigh.
I pierced the tree line in a rush, and looked around quickly for a sign of my quarry.
Two shapes moved off to my left. I raced forward, my feet making no sound on the forest floor, and threw myself into a roll that landed me at the foot of a willow tree. I held completely still as I watched them move, and did something I didn’t quite understand. I dropped the Ilyn mask hiding me, and instead wrapped myself in something else.
The shadows of the dark forest seemed to writhe around me, and suddenly they sprang up and covered my hands and arms, my chest, flowing along my skin like cool, refreshing water. The touch of it against my fevered skin was almost too much for me to handle, and I squeezed my legs together and hugged myself.
And then Robin and Oberon rounded the tree only a dozen paces away.
I froze, not moving, not breathing.
Robin’s eyes raked over where I hid, blazing as if he knew someone was here. I pulled as much of the madness around me as I could, to the point where I felt light-headed from the heat that had swelled up inside me, pounding wave after wave against my skin, like a fire licking me from the inside.
His eyes slid past.
“Did you feel that?” he asked quietly to Oberon.
“Yes,” the Erlking replied quietly, not looking. “But we are still near the Bower.”
“Usually it does not throw off waves like that. It felt like the madness.”
“The Bower was made with the madness. You’d be surprised what it feels like.”
The Puck looked ready to argue, but when Oberon continued walking, he grimaced and dropped the argument. I followed them as soon as they were at the edge of sight. I was so pleased with myself that I had to stuff a fist into my mouth to keep from laughing.
“How much longer?” Robin asked suddenly.
I took an extra step to get closer to them, excited at the prospect of eavesdropping.
“I assume you don’t mean distance.”
“You know I don’t.”
“Does your service chafe you?” he replied, his gray-green eyes mocking the smaller man. “I thought after what I did for you you’d be more grateful.”
“This humble servant thanks you,” Robin said with a mordant bow. “But I was never meant to be here. I may be one of the first Fae of the Bower, but while the others bear the name of Ilyn after me, you know as well as I that I am not a changeling.”
Oberon stopped and turned to him, his face cold and expressionless in the moonlight. I hid behind a tree and barely dared to breathe.
“Yes,” the king admitted finally. The word came out sounding like wind through trees, and it was an admission that startled me, even in the madness. The word even seemed to surprise Oberon himself.
Robin stared at the king, incredulity painted openly across his face. His gaze flicked back and forth between the two points of razor-sharpness that were his master’s eyes, and the open acknowledgement of the admission seemed to shock and astound him.
“So it’s true,” he whispered, voice so quiet he might have been talking to himself. “It was true all along and you denied it.”
“I denied nothing.”
“You denied the knowledge of my birth.”
“You mistook me. I denied knowledge of your upbringing, which I still do – the two are very different. But the point remains that you were brought to me for safekeeping.”
“Safekeeping? From what?”
“Now is not the time,” the master said, settling his arms deeper beneath his sable cloak, the hood of which was pulled up to cover his chestnut hair and his silver crown. “Your service is not done. No matter how you came here, you are here now, and you owe me a debt that only I can decide is paid.”