Mark stopped in his tracks. Kieran gave a slight hiss of pain. "You're my mother's sister?" he said incredulously.
"I think they usually call that your aunt," said Emma.
Mark gave her a dark look.
"I am the one who carried you and your sister to your father's doorstep and left you there for him to raise," said Nene. "You are my blood."
"I am beginning to wonder if any of you do not have a long-lost relative in Faerie," said Kieran.
"I don't," said Cristina, sounding regretful.
"Half Mark's relatives are faeries," pointed out Emma. "Where else would they be?"
"How did you know I would need saving?" said Mark to the faerie woman.
"The phouka who let you through the moon gate is an old friend," Nene said. "He told me of your journey, and I guessed your mission. I knew you would not survive the Lord of Shadows' tricks without aid."
"The burning arrows," Julian said. The corridor had now turned from stone and tile to packed earth. Roots dangled from the ceiling, each one twined with glimmering flowers that lit the darkness. Veins of minerals in the rock shimmered and changed as Emma looked at them. "That was you."
Nene nodded. "And a few others, of the Queen's Guard. Then I had only to stay a few steps ahead of you and open this door. It was not simple, but there are many doors to Seelie, all over the King's Lands. More than he knows." She cast a sharp look at Kieran. "You will not speak of this, will you, Hunter?"
"I thought you imagined me Nephilim," said Kieran.
"That was before I saw your eyes," she said. "Like my nephew, you are a servant of Gwyn." She sighed softly. "If my sister Nerissa had known her son would grow to be so cursed, it would have broken her heart."
Julian's face darkened, but before he could speak, a figure loomed up in front of them. They had reached a place where the corridor opened into a circular room, with other hallways leading off it in a dizzying array of directions.
Blocking their forward progress was a faerie knight. A tall, wheat-skinned man with a somber expression, he wore robes and a doublet of brilliant multicolored fabric. "Fergus," said Nene. "Let us go by."
He arched a dark brow and replied with a torrent of words in an odd, birdlike language-not angry, but clearly annoyed. Nene held up a hand, her voice sharp in response. As Emma watched her, she thought she could detect some resemblance to Mark. Not just the pale blond hair, but the delicacy of her bones, the deliberateness of her gestures.
The knight sighed and stepped aside. "We can go now, but we will be called to an audience with the Queen at first light," said Nene, hurrying forward. "Come, help me get the Hunter to a room."
Emma had quite a few questions-how they could tell when it was first light down here, why Nene seemed to dislike the Wild Hunt so much, and, of course, where they were going. She kept them to herself, though, and eventually they reached the end of a corridor where the walls were polished rock, gleaming with semiprecious stones: tiger's-eye, azurite, jasper. Gaps in the rock were covered with long velvet hangings, embroidered with glimmering thread.
Nene swept one of the hangings aside, revealing a room whose walls were smooth and curved in toward a domed ceiling. White hangings drifted down, half-covering a bed made of thick branches wound with flowers.
Nene set down her lamp. "Lay the Hunter down," she said.
Kieran had gone quiet since they'd entered the Seelie Court proper. He let Mark lead him over to the bed. He looked pretty awful, Emma thought, as Mark helped Kieran settle onto the mattress. She wondered how many times Mark had done this sort of thing for Kieran when Kieran was exhausted after a hunt-or how many times Kieran had done it for Mark. Being a Hunter was a risky job; she couldn't imagine how much of each other's blood they'd seen.
"Is there a healer in this Court?" Mark asked, straightening up.
"I am the healer," said Nene. "Though I rarely work alone. Usually I am assisted, but the hour is late and the Court half-empty." Her gaze fell on Cristina. "You will help me."
"Me?" Cristina looked startled.
"You have a healing air about you," said Nene, bustling up to a wooden cabinet and throwing the doors open. In it were jars of herbs, dangling strings of dried flowers, and vials of different-colored liquids. "Can you name any of these?"
"Foamflower," said Cristina promptly, as if they were in class. "Miner's lettuce, false lily, queen's cup."
Nene looked impressed. She pulled a stack of linens, including strips cut neatly into bandage size, from a drawer and handed them to Cristina. "Too many people in the room will slow a patient's healing. I will take these two next door; you must remove Kieran's clothes."