Author's Note: Wow, for once I have hardly any notes. That's kinda weird.
This chapter was originally a royal pain to write- mostly because of Alice, because strangely enough she made no sense when she wasn't Mad. However, I found the editing process for this chapter to be really easy. I guess I shouldn't be so surprised that these characters work best when they're all barking Mad; it is Wonderland, after all.
Incidentally, I love the dynamics of the relationships between Tarrant, Dafydd and Alice. I'm gonna have a lot of fun playing with that in the next few chapters. Enjoy!
Special Thanks: Thank you to my beta Thirteen Thorns. I was a little iffy on the Dafydd/Ioan moment in this chapter, and she assured me that it made sense, given everything that's going on.
"TARRANT HIGHTOPP!"
Alice's rather vehement outburst was met with silence. The Fearail, being intelligent men and not wanting to get caught anywhere near an argument between the Blue Queen and Laird of Iplam, discreetly melted back into the trees, going back to their original task of scouring every inch of the Hill to try to determine what had happened to their little Queen.
Alice scowled at them all, but her attention was quickly diverted by the appearance of her husband from the High House. His appearance wasn't particularly graceful; he stumbled out of the house barefoot and bare-headed, clad only in his tartan kilt and an untucked poet's shirt. He clutched a steaming cup of tea in one badly trembling hand, apparently not noticing as most of the liquid sloshed out and watered the cobblestones. He caught at the doorframe with his free hand to steady himself, before bringing his hand up to gingerly rub at his head.
Had Alice not been so Mad, she might have taken one look at all of this and rushed forward to help Tarrant, realizing that there was something wrong. As it was, though, she simply placed her hands on her hips and glared at him.
"Well? What do you have to say for yourself?" she snapped.
Upon hearing her, Tarrant frowned, wearily lifting his head to look blearily at her, before rubbing his head again. Alice huffed in impatience; had he not heard her? Or had he gotten himself drunk after losing their daughter?
"Sae ye decided tae come efter aw," Tarrant burred, not looking at her as he carefully lowered himself onto a bench. "A lot ay guid that's dain us, isnae it?"
"Don't you dare try to lay the guilt on me, Tarrant Hightopp," Alice seethed. "Not when you've gone and lost our daughter, again."
"I'll thenk ye nae tae lay th' blam oan me, Alice," Tarrant replied, still not gracing her with eye contact.
"Oh, this again," Alice snapped. "Last time, it was 'Oh, she's been taken by Underland Herself.' What's your excuse this time, Tarrant, that you were hit over the head?"
"That's exactly what happened."
Alice whipped around, glaring at Regina's young captain of the guard as he approached them. He gave Alice a cool glance before completely disregarding her, instead fixing his attention on Tarrant. He handed the Hatter a thin scrap of fabric, tied in a loop. Tarrant's fingers immediately closed on it, and he gave Dafydd the attention he'd been denying Alice.
"Hae ye foond anythin', laddie?" Tarrant asked, his voice strained.
Dafydd nodded shortly. "It was my kin," he said darkly.
"What?" Alice exclaimed. "How in the name of all the Days did they get back into Underland?"
"Alice, please," Tarrant said impatiently, waving her away. "Dornt gab abit things 'at arenae yer business."
Alice stared at Tarrant for a moment, stunned into silence, before her voice found her with a vengeance.
"Not my business? Not my business?" she shrieked. "Regina is my child!"
"Och aye," Tarrant scoffed. "An' ye waur actin' sae motherly when ye broke 'er heart. Gang back haem an' tend tae business, Alice," he dismissed her. "We hae wark tae dae."
"How dare you?" she seethed. "Regina is my daughter just as much as she is yours, and I am going to bring her back from wherever it is those barbarians have taken her!"
"Aye, an auld, broken hen is gonnae charge inae th' Ootlands aw by herself an' negotiate wi' fowk she knows naethin' abit," Tarrant mocked her, standing and walking forward until they were mere inches away from each others' glares. "Barry plan, as aye."
"You listen to me, Tarrant Hightopp," Alice snapped, smacking him in the chest. "I am going to the Outlands with or without your help, so you had best shut your mouth and prepare for our departure."
"Braw," Tarrant snapped. "We lae in half an hoor, Champion," he said, spitting out the word as if it were the dirtiest of curses.
"Fine," Alice snapped back.
Dafydd watched incredulously as Alice spun on her heel and stormed back to her Bandersnatch, checking him over to be sure he was ready to leave. Turning back to the Hatter, he watched Tarrant glare at her, throwing his teacup to the ground and not flinching as the china shattered against the cobblestones.
"Impossible wench," he muttered, before shifting his attention back to Dafydd. "Sae, it's aff tae th' Ooutlands wi' us. Wa did they tak' mah dochter?" he demanded.
Dafydd shook his head. "Revenge, probably. Our ceann-fine will consider Regina a tyrant for taking us as her own."
"Ye volunteered tae come tae Crims," Tarrant frowned.
"He doesn't know that," Dafydd reminded him. "As far as he knows, we were taken hostage, and he'll want revenge."
"Fur th' loove ay aw th' blessed Days in Underlain…" Tarrant cursed, before refocusing on Dafydd. "Yoo're comin' wi' me, 'en," he ordered. "We'll negotiate wi' yer ceann-fine an' gie mah Regina back."
"Aye," Dafydd nodded gravely. "I'll come with you."
With that, Tarrant spun around and marched into the High House, slamming the door shut behind him. Dafydd rolled his eyes, sighing heavily. Hadn't the Hightopps learned their lesson the last time? According to Regina, they had argued and blamed each other for losing their daughter as a baby, too, and that had ended in disaster for all involved. Were they really going to repeat the same mistakes again?
"Fates," Dafydd groaned.
He sighed heavily, dropping his head backwards to stare at the strange, half-day half-night sky. This trip was promising to be a joy…
Shaking his head, Dafydd walked away, heading towards the top of the Brae to regroup with his men. He rubbed his temple, wincing as he felt the buzzing beginning. No; he couldn't afford to lose himself to that right now. He had to remain calm, had to stay in control of himself. This was the time to focus, to find Regina; not the time to let the buzzing loose and lose himself within the battle lust.
But oh, was he angry. Angry with Niall, angry with the Nazari, angry with the Fearail, and furious with himself. Niall just had to go and invade, didn't he? And the Fearail had to let their guard down; they'd been bewitched by the Music of Tearmunn and lost focus. And now Regina was going to pay for their mistake. He had no doubt that by now, Regina had been brought to the ceann-fine; what was Niall going to do with her? What would he do, when he got home and learned his Princess' fate?
No. Don't focus on that; that way only made the buzzing worse. Refocus, think of something else… anything else… Dancing. Think about dancing on the Hill, the vibrations of the Song wrapping around him as Regina sang. Think about the scent of her hair and the warmth that had built between them…
Oh, that wasn't helping. Because thought of Regina only led back to his fury with himself. This was all his fault. He had let his guard down for one stupid minute. He had left her alone one time, for just one moment. He had told her to stay on the Hill, that he would go and gather firewood so they could build a bonfire and sit with the Music for just a little while longer. He had walked away from her for one moment, and she had been taken.
Oh ow ow ow, his head… the buzzing was getting louder…
"Deep breaths, Dafydd."
Dafydd snapped his head up as he felt hands on his shoulders, and looked into Ioan's concerned gaze. His cousin squeezed his shoulders, painfully hard, forcing him to pay attention.
"Breathe," Ioan coached him. "Let it out. We need you to think right now. Calm down, let it go. Now's not the time."
His shoulders slumped as he followed Ioan's directions, nodding wearily as the buzzing receded. Ioan nodded briefly, stepping back and giving Dafydd room to breathe.
It had been like this for years. Dafydd would begin to lose himself to the buzzing, blinding, deafening anger, and Ioan would call him back. Dafydd had only become lost in the battle lust once, and it had led to an entire village being destroyed. Ever since then, Niall had ordered Ioan to keep Dafydd reined in. They couldn't afford to let their best fighter lose himself like that, to be so far beyond their reach that nothing could get through to him.
"Everyone report," Ioan commanded, glancing at the other Deuces. "Do we have any idea how they got in?"
"I found this," Caradoc volunteered.
He stepped forward, handing Dafydd a small glass vial. The young captain sniffed it, then frowned.
"Pishalver," he confirmed. "You think Niall got back in touch with the Crows?"
"Had to be some kind of Bird," Ioan said, shaking his head. "They couldn't have been on the ground, we'd have seen them."
"Or the Trees would have put up a fuss," Madoc agreed. "The Land doesn't like strangers. She's unhappy enough about us being here."
"So they flew," Dafydd sighed, rubbing a hand over his jaw. "Fates, they could be anywhere in the Outlands by now, and we've got no trail to follow."
"I don't think Niall would have sent his boys in unless they were close by," Ioan said thoughtfully. "Less risk that way, quicker mission. They're probably close to the mountains, maybe by that Centaur oasis, remember it?"
"Let's hope so," Dafydd said.
He walked a few steps away from his men, rubbing his face as he tried to think, to come up with a plan. What was the best way to get into the Outlands, diffuse the situation, and get everyone back safely?
"Alright," he decided, turning back to the men. "I want all of you to stay here and guard Tearmunn. Ioan's in charge."
"What?" Ioan frowned. "No. I'm coming with you."
"No," Dafydd negated. "I need you here. If Niall tries to invade, I don't want him coming to claim the Hill, not without him and Tarrant having some kind of agreement between them."
"You want us to turn on our own kin?" Owain asked blankly.
"No, we're not turning on anybody," Dafydd countered. "We're diffusing the situation. You'll stay here and keep anyone from claiming the Hill. I'm going into the Outlands with Tarrant and Alice."
Without a word, Ioan jerked his head away from the top of the Brae, walking away from the rest of the Deuces. Rolling his eyes, Dafydd followed, gearing himself up for the argument that was likely coming.
"I agree that we need to secure Tearmunn," Ioan started without preamble. "But you on your own with Alice and Tarrant? You don't even like Alice. What are you going to do with no one to buffer you?"
"I'll survive," Dafydd said, his voice hard. "Don't fight with me on this, Ioan. I have to go after her."
Ioan looked at Dafydd, his eyes hard and searching and far, far too knowing. Dafydd shifted uneasily, but didn't back down from what he'd said.
"When did she become more important than coming home?" Ioan finally asked. "You're willing to give up everything. Everything we've fought and bled for. Everything Andras died for."
Dafydd stiffened at the mention of his deceased brother. "Don't."
"Why?" Ioan pushed him. "How is she worth it?"
"I said don't," Dafydd snapped. "This isn't about choosing one over the other."
"Yes it is," Ioan argued. "You're walking away from everything that belongs to us, and what are you getting in return?"
"Shut UP!" Dafydd yelled, pushing Ioan back.
By the time Ioan had pushed himself off the ground, Dafydd had stormed off. Glaring, Ioan got to his feet, rubbing his shoulder. Damn his cousin and his ridiculous strength…
This wasn't going to end well. That much was obvious. Dafydd thought that he could force a balance, argued that he could have both- Regina and Tearmunn. Ioan thought that Dafydd was a fool. Tarrant would never surrender his claim to his homeland; nor would he allow his daughter to marry into a clan he saw as usurpers. Not that Niall would let Dafydd keep the Puppet Princess who stood between them and home. No, something was going to have to be sacrificed; these two goals couldn't be reconciled.
And even if Dafydd was willing to give up Tearmunn just to have Regina [and that was a goal that he had no guarantees of ever reaching], what made Dafydd think that the rest of the Nazari would be just as willing to give up their dreams? They had all, from the oldest Elder down to the youngest toddling infant, been raised with the knowledge that Tearmunn was their birthright. Why on earth would they give up on their homeland, just so Dafydd could pursue his woman? Even if Regina had offered them sanctuary, a home in her kingdom, it was to Tearmunn that the Nazari belonged. Even if Tearmunn meant nothing to Dafydd anymore, how could he deny the rest of his clan the chance to return home?
No, this wasn't going to end well. But Ioan knew his cousin too well to believe that Dafydd would accept that. No, the stubborn idiot would fight to turn everyone around to his way of thinking. And with Dafydd as angry as he was right now, there was a very real chance that he could go a bit Mad… which might just lead to a dead Alice. Which also wouldn't solve any problems [tempting though it was sometimes].
So there was only one choice; Ioan was going to have to go after Dafydd, and try to keep him from going Mad and doing something stupid. And he'd have to do it without Dafydd realizing that he was there, which meant he'd be tailing them. That'd be fun…
Grumbling, Ioan pulled Owain aside. "I'm leaving you in charge," he muttered.
"Oh good, you're going after the idiot," Owain said, sounding relieved.
"Of course I am," Ioan retorted. "If we let him go on his own, somebody's going to end up dead."
"We can keep the Hill," Owain assured him. "You just focus on Dafydd. Get them all home safe."
"I'll try," Ioan sighed. "He won't make it easy on me, but I'll try."
After checking Lewis to be sure his saddle was bridled correctly and that she had all the supplies she'd need for an extended period out of doors, Alice removed most of her armor. She probably wasn't going into battle, so the heavy metal would only slow her down. And anyways, it was impossible to be stealthy when wearing an entire suit of armor. She'd retain her breastplate and grieves, but the rest of the armor, she decided, was largely superfluous.
Having made that decision, Alice packed up the unneeded armor and carried it into the High House. She paused in the doorway, realizing that she'd never actually been inside the House yet and had no idea where anything was. And there wasn't any way she was going to seek Tarrant out and ask him, not when she was so mad at him.
Frowning, she walked through the first doorway on her left, finding herself in a room populated mostly with large, palm-tree like plants and enormous pillows. It looked almost like a Chinese opium den, to her Aboveground mind. Now what on earth could this room's purpose be? Shrugging, Alice deposited her armor on a convenient pillow; it'd be safe there until her return.
That done, Alice walked back outside, returning to Lewis and withdrawing a small hand mirror from one of the bundles strapped to his saddle. It wasn't the best for communication, but in a pinch it would do.
"Mirana," she breathed, pressing her thumb to the surface of the Glass.
The mirror rippled, then cleared to show Mirana sitting in her study. Upon hearing Alice's voice, the High Queen rushed to the mirror, somehow conveying her anxiety beneath her customary composure.
"Alice? Are you alright?" she asked.
"No, I am not alright," Alice snapped. "My daughter's been kidnapped again."
"Oh," Mirana sighed heavily. "Yes, I know. I saw it in the Oraculum an hour ago."
"What does the oracle say?" Alice asked, hoping for guidance.
Mirana shook her head. "It's blank, as happens when an Outlander's fate affects Underland."
Alice sighed heavily. "I was afraid of that. I'm going into the Outlands with Tarrant and Regina's captain."
Mirana nodded. "Once you cross the mountains, we won't be able to communicate with the mirrors."
"So we'll be completely on our own," Alice frowned.
"I'm afraid so," Mirana said apologetically.
Alice sighed. She hadn't realized how much she had come to depend on the Oraculum's guidance, until now, when the compendium could offer no advice. It had been many years since Alice had felt so vulnerable. It wasn't a good tiding for the beginning of her journey.
"Very well," she said, resigned. "Fairfarren, Mirana."
"Fairfarren, Alice," Mirana replied. "I'll try to locate Luck and Hope and send them on their way to you. And perhaps Time would consent to aiding you."
Alice smiled wearily, and severed the connection with Marmoreal. By the time she'd put the mirror away, Tarrant and Dafydd were approaching her. They none of them spoke a word to each other; they simply mounted their Animals and took off towards the west, and the mountains that separated Underland from the Outlands.
The first thing she was aware of as she came back to consciousness was that she was sitting on something solid and stationary, which was a massive improvement over the last few moments before she had fallen unconscious. The second thing she noticed was that her wrist was tied, and when she sluggishly moved her arm she found that she was most definitely tied to something. There would be no crawling away or even standing up; she was, for now, stuck. The third thing she realized was that she was having the hardest time waking up; her mind felt sluggish and fuzzy, her tongue seemed to have swelled and grown hair, and she had the most unpleasant aftertaste in her mouth.
It was this last fact that reminded Regina of what had happened to her. She had been up on the top of the Hill at dusk. Dafydd had pulled away from their dancing, saying he would get them some food and firewood to build them a fire, so they could remain on the Hill for a few more hours. She had been up there alone, spinning in lazy circles and swaying along with the Music, when someone had come up behind her and grabbed her, shoving a vial of Pishalver over her mouth when she tried to scream. She had tried to spit it out, but her head had been forced back and the vile liquid had slid down her throat. As she began shrinking, a cloth had been pressed over her face. It must have been a drug similar to chloroform, because shortly after Regina had been hauled onto the back of a Bird, she had passed out.
And now she was… here. In this unknown place. All she knew was that it wasn't Underland; the energy of the land felt foreign, unwelcoming, and the vibrations were jarring to her after so long in Marmoreal and Witzend. Was she over the Sea, then? Or perhaps in the Outlands?
Regina forced her eyelids open, trying to blink away the fuzziness in her vision. When her eyesight cleared, she found herself to be in a tent, securely tied by her wrist to the leg of a desk. There were men in the tent with her, but though they were all looking her way they paid her no attention. The sounds of someone shifting their weight led Regina to realize that someone was standing in her blind spot on the left side, apparently leaning over the desk. So the low droning she was hearing had to be these men talking. Well, she could take advantage of this situation, then. If they weren't paying attention to her, they must not think of her as a threat. They had clearly drugged her to keep her docile, but while physically she was drugged, her mind was more or less functional. This was an opportunity to spy on her captors, to learn as much as she could so she could make her escape plan.
That she had to escape was obvious. Clearly if these men had gone to such lengths to kidnap her, they wanted her for something; ransom money or perhaps to incite a war with Witzend. She had to get out of their control so they would fail in… whatever their goal was. So, what would she need in order to form an escape plan? Well, a clue of where she was in relation to Witzend was obvious. She'd need to figure out who her captors were and why they wanted her. Then there was the matter of escaping her captors and getting home, but she really couldn't think about that until she knew where she was.
Having worked out a rudimentary plan, Regina figured she might as well begin gathering information as quickly as she could. She glanced around the tent, though she didn't move from where she sat slumped against the side of the desk. The tent, though large, was sparsely furnished; everything looked extremely portable and durable. So these were likely a nomadic people. From the way the men were dressed, in rough cloths and leathers with weapons strapped to their waists or backs or legs, it was clear they were warriors. Actually, they looked rather similar to her Fearail… Regina's heart sank. Dafydd had told her that the Nazari were likely close to the mountainous border between Witzend and the Outlands; was it possible that she'd been kidnapped by his relatives?
At the thought of Dafydd, Regina bit her lip. She had no doubt that her Champion knew that she was missing. She also didn't doubt that he was probably frantic with worry, as well as killing himself with angry self-recrimination. She knew that he would be chomping at the bit to come after her; maybe she should just remain here and wait for him?
No, she decided a moment later. If these truly were the Nazari, there was likely to be an ugly confrontation between them and the Fearail. Besides, Regina wasn't the type to sit back and play the damsel in distress. She may be a princess, but she was no weak, helpless thing; she was the daughter of Tarrant Hightopp and [she added reluctantly] Alice Kingsleigh. She had all the tools she needed to free herself, so free herself she would.
Cautiously, Regina looked over her shoulder, up to the figure who stood behind the desk. When she saw the man, her brow furrowed. Physically, with his slight build, blond hair, and slightly angular face, he didn't look very much like Dafydd. But in his stiff, solid soldier's bearing, the set of his jaw, and the steady look in his blue eyes- the look of a commander of men- it was clear to Regina that they were related somehow.
The Nazari looked down and caught Regina's gaze, then smiled. "Ah. I see our guest is awake," he said, sounding surprisingly pleasant for a kidnapper. "Good morning, Princess. Or I suppose I should say, good evening."
"How long have I been unconscious?" Regina asked, working to sound docile instead of hostile, and attempting to wet her throat in vein.
"A few hours only," he replied.
He picked up a fired clay pitcher from his desk and poured water into a cup, which he handed to her. She sniffed the water suspiciously, but could detect no scent of telltale herbs or potions, so she took a cautious sip. Upon tasting no herbal tinctures or seeing anything in the water, she slowly sipped at it. The water was rather warm, but at least it cleansed her palate of the unpleasant taste of the drugs, even if it wasn't really clearing her head.
"Thank you," she said politely, setting the cup on the ground beside her.
"You are most welcome," he replied.
"You're being surprisingly gracious, considering I'm your prisoner," Regina commented.
He raised an eyebrow and almost smiled. "I see no reason to be uncivil, do you?" he asked pleasantly. "After all, we are not monsters."
No, merely my kidnappers, she wanted to say, though she managed to bite her tongue at the last moment. It would hardly do to antagonize this man. Remain compliant, she counseled herself. Unlike Alice, Regina intended to follow the good advice she'd just given herself.
"Whom do I have the pleasure of addressing?" she asked.
"I am Niall, ceann-fine of the Nazari," he replied, sketching a shallow bow. "And you, Princess, have been most unkind to me."
"Have I?" she asked, frowning.
"You have," he nodded. "It was you, was it not, who claimed the Hassasseen as your own? Who took them as your prisoners?"
"They're hardly my prisoners," Regina said. "They're my subjects."
"I see," he said pleasantly, though now there was a note of steel in his voice. "So I should tell my brother's Betrothed that he's been away from her because he's your guest, is that right?"
Regina paled, really not liking the turn this conversation had taken. "Your brother. You're Dafydd's brother."
"You're surprised," Niall commented. "Did Dafydd never tell you about us? Or about his Afanen?"
Regina's eyes widened. Dafydd's brother had been the one to take her prisoner? Oh, this was going to get messy…
Quick on the heels of her surprise that she'd been kidnapped by Dafydd's brother was a sharp, sinking sensation, as if her heart had just plummeted to her stomach. Betrothed? Dafydd was Betrothed? He had never mentioned that… Why hadn't he mentioned it? They had known each other for six months now. Dafydd had told her about his mathair, his two older brothers [though he'd neglected to mention that one of them was the ceann-fine of the entire clan], his nephew and his sister-in-law… but he'd never said a word about a woman named Afanen, let alone that he was Promised to her.
Regina's mind traitorously drifted back to earlier that evening, when she and Dafydd had been alone on the Hill. If he was Betrothed to another woman, what was he doing dancing with Regina like that? Like… oh, she didn't know, as if it meant something? Or was she being silly? Had it truly been meaningless all along, and she was only building up a romance in her mind? It wouldn't be the first time, she admitted to herself...
"No," Regina said faintly, dimly realizing that Niall was still watching her. "No, he never said a word."
"I see," Niall said thoughtfully. "Well, I'll be sure to send for Afanen. I'm sure you'd enjoy her company. In the meantime, permit me to introduce you to my men. My cousin, Taran."
Regina turned to look at Taran, who inclined his head, smirking. She swallowed hard, recognizing him as the one who had kidnapped her. Oh, what was Dafydd going to do when he got here and learned that his own family had done this?
Or… was it possible that Dafydd and his men would side with Niall? After all, they were his family; his ties to them must be much stronger than the ones he had to her. What if Dafydd abandoned her, and joined Niall in whatever plot he had up his sleeve?
"Taran was kind enough to transport you here," Niall informed her, breaking into her thoughts. "His brother, Diarmuid. Giobhan, Eoghan, Achill." He smiled, then glanced down at her. "Happy though I am to see you awake, I do wish the drugs had lasted a while longer. It seems rude to discuss your immanent demise when you can hear us."
She felt herself paling as her stomach turned in revulsion. So she was going to be killed, not merely held for ransom. Oh dear Fates… She swallowed hard, her gaze lowering to the floor as she fought back her panic. Surely they weren't going to kill her just now, not if they were going to discuss how to get rid of her?
"What if we just sent her back Up?" one of them- Eoghan, was it?- suggested. "Her memories would be gone, and she'd be no threat."
Regina closed her eyes, trying to keep her breaths even. Did these men know that that very situation was the stuff of her nightmares? It was her greatest fear, that she would find herself back Above, with no memory of her homeland, unable to return. Mirana had told her that memory loss was almost unavoidable when one traveled Above; it was Underland's way of protecting itself. After all, if one didn't remember that Underland existed, one couldn't return to destroy or abuse it for one's own purposes. The only reason Alice had been saved from this fate was because she was Destined to return someday. What if Regina, despite being half Underlandian, wasn't meant to stay? What if the Nazari sent her back, and she lost everything? All memory of her true identity, of the past six months, of her Da?
"No," Niall said, shaking his head. "I agree that might be effective… were it not for the fact that she is the daughter of Alice Kingsleigh. Alice Remembered, if you recall. And she returned. So there's no guarantee that Regina's memories would be erased. Besides, if we sent her Above, Alice would surely follow."
Regina remained silent, knowing it was to her advantage to allow the Nazari to think that. But she knew better. Regina had been brought Above once before, as a helpless infant, and Alice hadn't followed her Up for that very reason- she hadn't wanted to risk her own memories. She had given up her own daughter in order to not lose memories of her life Below. If Regina were to be sent Up again, she knew without a doubt that Alice would not follow. Her Da would be willing to risk his memories to find her… but Tarrant would be absolutely lost Up There. So yes, if the Nazari were to send her Above, it would be a death sentence for her. To be forever cut off from Underland, unable to remember where she truly belonged… Regina swallowed hard, fighting the panic.
"Well, why not marry her off?" one of the others suggested. "Underland's accepted the Hightopps as rulers of Tearmunn, hasn't She? Marry her within your family, Niall, and your claim is legitimized."
"That is a thought," Niall said, sounding thoughtful. "To join our royalty to that of Witzend…"
"It's past time that Dafydd took a wife," Taran said.
Regina felt herself blushing, and she ducked her head to keep any of the men from seeing it. She wouldn't say that she had thought of marriage, because that wasn't true. But she did have eyes; she was well aware of how attractive her captain was. He was kind, and strong, and a leader of men. Throw in the fact that he was apparently some kind of tribal royalty and Lady Ascot would have been throwing Regina at him, were they in a drawing room in London.
But wait a moment… hadn't Niall just said that Dafydd was Betrothed? So why would they consider marrying him to her, when he already had an Intended waiting for him? Were they really that desperate to usurp her family's claim to Witzend… and did they really think that she would be so docile as to follow this insane plan?
"I won't be your pawn," she said, looking up, feeling her eyes begin to yellow into topaz. "I won't marry into your clan to legitimize whatever claim you think you have on Iplam."
"The claim we think we have?" Eoghan said, glaring at her. "You arrogant little usurper!"
"Eoghan!" Niall chastised him. "Manners. We'll not treat our guest so ill." He looked down at Regina, seemingly amused. "He does have a point though, little Hightopp. Our claim to the land you call Witzend is far older than your own."
Regina scoffed. "You and your people are Outlanders. Banished from Underland generations ago," she said, rubbing salt in the wound. "You have no claim at all. Underland has forgotten your people, Dafydd told me so himself."
Niall let out a short bark of laughter. "Your knowledge of history is severely limited, I see. Our people were forced out of Underland by the Adamasi," he said, spitting out the name of Mirana's family. "Your people had no claim on the land until we were removed."
Regina frowned; she had never heard this before. It couldn't be right; the Hightopps had been given Witzend when they first came to Underland with the first High King! Where had Niall gotten his history?
"And why should you not marry my brother?" Niall asked, clearly enjoying Regina's squirm of discomfort. "He is young and strong, just as capable a leader as any princeling in Underland. Or do you find him so far beneath you?" he sneered.
"I'll thank you not to paint me as an elitist," Regina spat back. "I've named Dafydd as my Champion, and the Fearail are my Deuces. My personal guard. You needn't think I treat him or his men like dirt."
"Your Champion!" Niall said, raising his eyebrows in surprise. "Then by your own laws he has a claim to your hand- if a Queen doesn't find a suitor to her liking, then her Ace becomes her husband. And really, Princess, if the choice came between marriage to a prince of the Nazari or your own death, which would you choose?"
"I will not marry to further along your politics," she stated. "Especially not if doing so breaks an existing Betrothal, as you've said Dafydd has."
Niall sighed. "You've heard her, men. So you see, if she refuses to cooperate with us, I'm afraid killing her is our only option."
"Why not just hold her prisoner? Ransom her off for the kingdom?" Achill suggested, sounding bored.
"Because if I have judged Alice correctly, she will never surrender her kingdom. Not even for her daughter," Niall said, a cruel smile on his face.
Regina looked down at the ground, silently acknowledging the truth of Niall's statement. Alice in the past year had clearly demonstrated her priorities. Her top concern was for Witzend- expanding trade, securing the country and its inhabitants. Everything else was secondary to that, obviously; she had even turned down attending the Restoration of the Music on Hightopp Hill, a ceremony which was easily the most important of Tarrant's life, because she wanted to secure trade agreements. No, Alice would not surrender Witzend. And the truth of that statement hurt, to know that Alice valued her daughter less than she valued her power.
"Alright," Taran said. "Death it is. Shall we do it here?"
Regina tensed, her heart beginning to race. Oh dear Fates, not here… she wasn't ready to die yet. To be murdered here, tonight, in this tent, without a chance to say goodbye… to be denied even the chance to fight for her freedom…!
"No," Niall said. "Not here. We're too close to the borders here. Alice and Tarrant are sure to come after their princess, we wouldn't want them to stumble across her body."
"Ah," Taran said, following a thought train Regina couldn't decipher. "The gorges."
"The gorges," Niall repeated, with a slight nod.
Regina didn't like the sound of that.
"We can leave tomorrow," Taran suggested. "I'll take her off, you can stay here and wait for the Hightopps to arrive."
"Agreed," Niall nodded. "With any luck, my brother and his men will be accompanying the Duke and Duchess of Iplam, and will be ready to join us."
"Dafydd won't join you," Regina spat out, seeing no need to be civil now that she knew she was to be killed.
Niall rose an eyebrow, glancing down at her. "And why should he be loyal to you?" he asked. "Dafydd more than anyone wants to return to our ancestral lands. That's the whole reason he and his men joined the Red King."
Regina glared at Niall, trying to keep the icy tendrils of fear from quenching her anger. Surely Dafydd wouldn't betray her, wouldn't join his brother and aid in killing her parents, accepting her murder… would he? Yes, he had told her on the chessboard battlefield that he and his men had joined the Knave in order to gain land for their families… But Regina had promised the Fearail that… They wouldn't betray her… Dafydd wouldn't turn his back on her… Would he?
Once again, her mind drifted back to earlier that evening, when she and Dafydd had danced on the Hill. Dafydd had seemed entranced by the Music of her ancestors… he had looked about the Hill with such longing, such wonder… She felt sick at the memory. Surely he wouldn't betray her so he could claim her homeland for himself…?
Niall, who had been watching Regina's inner battle, smiled when her glare faltered. "I think you'll find that the Music of Tearmunn will outweigh any paltry vow he made to you," he told her. "Tearmunn is our home, Princess. Dafydd will be loyal to Her first and foremost, and his promises to Her will override any promises he ever made to you. All you ever were was his shield to get back home. Nothing more."
"It's not true," she whispered, but her voice was weak, as was her hope that she was right.
Niall inclined his head, though he was still smiling. "As you say," he said, shrugging, clearly not believing her.
Regina closed her eyes, feeling how her irises were losing color and turning gray, knowing that her hair and skin were beginning to dull. She wished that Niall was lying, but she had to admit that he was probably right. When faced with the choice of rejoining his brother or keeping a promise to a foreign princess, and one who laid claim to his ancestral land, who was Dafydd more likely to join? She didn't stand a chance. The Fearail would rejoin the Nazari, and Regina and her family would be wiped out. Witzend would fall to the Nazari, and all trace of the Hightopps would be forever lost.
Unless Regina managed to escape. If she could get away, somehow make it back to Underland… if she could rouse her forces at Crims, and gather Alice's army in Witzend… Perhaps they would stand a chance. She could keep her da from walking into a trap, prevent the war that Niall was going to wage on her home, maybe even keep from losing her Fearail. Yes, it was clear that she was Witzend's only hope; everything hinged upon escape.
"Tomorrow morning then, Taran," Niall decided.
"Agreed," Taran nodded.
Regina's breath caught in her throat. Tomorrow morning! That left her with no time at all! Which, she knew, was the point. Niall wasn't a fool; he knew that a rescue party was coming for Regina, knew that they must be close enough to Witzend that the rescuers could reach them quickly. If they wanted to force a war, everything must be done quickly.
She would just have to be quicker than they were.