by Emma Newman
“Furious. Got a beating, but I took it. No doubt something will be said about it today.”
Cathy remembered the wedding. There would be family there, her grandparents right back to her great-great-great-grandparents, possibly older. She didn’t bother to keep track as they’d never shown any signs of being interesting. But having heard her father speak, she wondered if that assessment was correct. Perhaps they all hid their interesting quirks too well. Even though it was intriguing, she still didn’t want to be there.
“If you knew what it’s like to have to ask for something you need to do, even when everyone else says no, why were you so hard on me?”
He frowned as he considered her question. “I wondered that myself, I must confess. I realised it was because you asked for something selfish. I wanted to defend Albion, and England. I wanted to risk my life in a noble cause. You just wanted to rebel.”
“Not for the sake of it!” Cathy realised he saw her as nothing more than a horrible child; he had no idea what it had been like for her. “You say I threw stuff back in your face but every time I tried to explain you hit me. Mother thought I kept messing up my embroidery deliberately but I was just rubbish at it. And then she’d tell you and then you’d beat me again. What was I supposed to do?”
“Take it on the chin,” he replied, as if he were talking about being gently teased. “Try harder. It’s your duty to represent your family in the best way you can.”
Try harder. In the early days she did try so hard to please them but she gave up when she realised there was no way to be the child they wanted. Miss Rainer’s lessons had increased the gulf between them by giving her other things to aspire to and revealing how stagnated Nether Society’s attitudes were in comparison to Mundanus. “All this duty crap is just a way to control people, and keep control. If I’d been born in Mundanus—”
“You were not,” he cut in. “You were born into one of the most respected families in Aquae Sulis. Why not accept your life and your role in Society?”
“But you didn’t accept it when your father told you not to fight in the war.”
He pursed his lips. “That’s completely different. You’re about to marry into one of the most wealthy and powerful families in Albion. You’ll never want for anything, you’ll have security for yourself and your children, respect in Society—if you don’t destroy that with your wilful behaviour.”
“But I don’t even want children!”
He paled. “Catherine, that is the wish of every woman.”
She wanted to drum the seat of the carriage with her fists but she wasn’t going to waste her first opportunity to try and make him understand where she was coming from. “Just because women are capable of giving birth it doesn’t make that the only thing we should aspire to. There are women in Mundanus who run successful businesses, who lead countries! Powerful, accomplished women doing amazing things, and you just want to trade me like a piece of bloody porcelain!”
“There’s no speaking to you.” He looked out of the window, though there was nothing to see except the mists of the Nether.
“You just can’t handle it when I say things you don’t want to hear and can’t beat me for it.”
She watched him struggle with his anger. Eventually he sighed, closing his eyes. “Catherine, this isn’t just me, it’s what Society expects of you, and what our patrons demand of us. I have always said that your wishes are irrelevant because there is no getting away from the fact that Lord Poppy has decided this marriage will happen. You should be grateful your fiancé had the foresight to request an earlier date.”
“Will wanted to marry sooner?” Cathy couldn’t understand it.
“Yes, and Lord Iris himself must have sanctioned moving the date. I can’t see any other way the Oak would be available, and everything arranged with such short notice. You gave us no choice but to accept. We had to make sure this happened, by whatever means necessary. I don’t enjoy forcing you into this, Catherine. I’m simply doing my duty.”
“But there must be a way to—”
“Enough! Turn all this energy into planning how you will make William happy, or I warn you, Catherine, he could make your life most miserable indeed. Any talk of avoiding this marriage is utterly futile.”
“I managed to make a life in Mundanus and people would say that’s impossible. It’s not a crime to not want to marry a man I hardly know!”
“You think your mother and I knew each other? We met on two occasions before we were married, the first at a garden party, the second at our engagement ball. You’ve been infected by some romantic ideas from Mundanus. It just isn’t like that here. We do things the way they’ve always been done, and I will not risk my entire family’s honour just because you refuse to toe the line.”
“Toe the line? This is slavery by another name!”
“That’s it, if you—”
A flash of red at the window distracted them. One of Poppy’s tiny faeries, in the same red petal dress as the last time Cathy saw her, was tapping on the glass.
Father knocked loudly on the roof of the carriage and the driver halted the horses. The door was opened and the faerie fluttered inside, clapping her hands joyfully at the sight of Cathy’s dress.
“Oh! It’s so exciting!” She twisted in the air to look at Cathy’s father. He knocked on the roof to start the carriage again once the door was shut. “Are you the favourite’s father?”
“I am.” He inclined his head respectfully.
“What do you want?” Cathy asked, a thousand awful possibilities coming to mind with little effort.
“Lord Poppy wanted to make sure you looked perfect.”
“That’s very thoughtful of him,” Father said.
“He said that when he sees his favourite arrive, he wants to weep bitter-sweet tears.”
“Lord Poppy is at the Oak?” Father asked as Cathy felt nauseous.
“And Lord Iris!” The faerie pirouetted in the air. “That’s why Lord Poppy sent me. Now close your eyes and I’ll make sure he isn’t disappointed.”
“Have you ever met any Fae royalty?” Ekstrand asked.
Max shook his head. “No, sir.”
“Well, it should be an education to you then. Do you have all you need?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then let’s be off.”
Using his silver-tipped cane, Ekstrand opened a Way from the ballroom to a familiar mundane field, the one where he and Axon had picked up the puppet after she’d been left there by the Censor of Aquae Sulis. It was early in the morning and the sun hadn’t risen high enough to evaporate the dew off the grass or burn off the mist. Max took a deep breath of the fresh air as the Sorcerer then opened a Way into Exilium. He had not wanted to risk opening one directly from his house.
The mundane grass looked grey compared to the sun-soaked meadow Max saw through the opening. He stepped through first, checked that no Fae or faeries were nearby and then beckoned to Ekstrand to follow. Ekstrand closed the Way behind him, whispered something beneath his breath and struck the earth with the cane. Max felt the ground vibrate, like a little shockwave had rippled out from it, and the grass bent as if flattened by a brief gust of wind.
“Let’s bring one of them here,” Ekstrand said, adjusting his cape. “I have no desire to traipse across the prison, and the beauty of the Palace would be lost on you anyway. Besides, it’s always good to remind them of the pecking order, wouldn’t you agree?”
“Yes, sir,” Max replied.
“Especially on a Friday,” Ekstrand added.
Max leaned on his walking stick while Ekstrand only rested his hand lightly on his cane. The sun was gentle but Max adjusted the brim of his hat so he could see all around them without squinting. They were standing at the top of a hill. There was nothing but meadow and blue sky, a warm breeze and trees in the distance. He remembered victims talking about how Exilium looked like a dream of a perfect place, too colourful to be real. For Max, immune to such things, it looked like it c
ould be anywhere in the Cotswolds.
Ekstrand was scowling. “I must raise this at the Moot. It’s too pretty here. Damnable Fae.”
Max was about to ask what he meant when a figure came into view, climbing the rise of the hill steadily, clearly one of the Fae. He was tall, slender, like they all were, dressed in a tail-coat and trousers, cut somewhat like those Ekstrand wore. He wore a circlet of oak leaves instead of a top hat, however, and his cape looked like it was woven from thousands of oak leaves, reaching down to the ground and spilling behind him for many metres.
“Only the Prince?” Ekstrand sniffed. “I’m insulted.”
“Good day to you, Sorcerer of Wessex, King of the lands between the Tamar and the Arun, the Severn and the dividing sea, holder of the plains of Avalon and Salisbury, keeper of Avebury and Stonehenge and the ancient southern forest.”
Max knew he would be ignored; the Fae found it impossible to see Arbiters as people. The Prince gave him the briefest glance, presumably to check he wasn’t about to throw a copper net over him. The Prince’s eyes were a vibrant green, no discernible pupil, iris or humour, just green. His hair was the colour of polished oak, rippling in long waves down his back.
“Is the King too busy to answer my summons?” Ekstrand made no effort to disguise his irritation.
“The King sent me, knowing you would wish to discuss the recent events in your domain. I am personally overseeing the matter and was judged to be of more help to you.”
“I want to speak to Lady Rose.”
“I’m afraid that’s impossible,” the Prince said with a smile.
“I beg your pardon?”
“She’s being punished.” The Prince spread his hands. “It’s what you wished, is it not?”
“I left that to the King and Queen to decide. I merely made them aware of her crimes.”
“And they were of such severity that she’s been stripped her of her status, and her influence in the Court and the Nether destroyed. We can assure you, with confidence, that she and her brothers are unable to interfere with Aquae Sulis now.”
Max studied the Prince’s face, the soft voice, the smile that never left him. He could understand Lady Rose’s status suffering as a result of the embarrassment of being escorted away from her own party by an Arbiter, but to strip her and her brothers of everything, even dominion over their own puppets, seemed more than merely harsh. It was disproportionate.
“I should imagine Lady Lavender was furious,” Ekstrand said. “I had no idea the royal family cared so much for appeasing her.”
The Prince remained silent, the gentle smile still present.
“However, I cannot imagine how an audience with me would interfere with Rose’s punishment,” Ekstrand continued. “On the contrary, I should imagine it would only deepen her misery. I want her brought to me at once.”
“As I said, dear Sorcerer, that’s not possible. But as soon as her punishment is over, I will gladly escort her to you. Personally.”
“When will that be?”
“I cannot imagine it taking any longer than three mundane years.”
“That isn’t acceptable.” Ekstrand twisted the cane in his irritation.
“That isn’t negotiable,” the Prince said. The Sorcerer’s growing anger didn’t seem to concern him at all. “I’m sorry if it’s an inconvenience, but may I remind you that the treaty of the Split Worlds merely gives you permission to keep us from Mundanus. It doesn’t extend to your making demands of our royalty when the matter in hand doesn’t concern any innocents. This is, as you would say, an internal matter. Lady Rose is one of our own and we are punishing her ourselves. You have no right to interfere with that.”
Ekstrand’s lips were nothing more than a thin line. Max knew he wouldn’t be able to push it further; to do so would reveal there was more at stake than he could risk the Fae royal family discovering. That, and the fact the Prince was correct. Ekstrand had the right to use Arbiters to keep the Fae out of Mundanus, and the right to stop any actions on their part that could lead to the kidnapping, death or exploitation of an innocent. Nothing more.
“I’ll remember this,” Ekstrand said.
“I’m sure you will,” said the Prince. “As will I. I recall every conversation we have ever had, Sorcerer of Wessex, every slight, every demand, every wound. Whatever business you have with the Rose will have to wait. In the meantime it may be of benefit to you to watch the Irises. I understand they’re powerful in your domain.”
“The Irises have never been any trouble,” Ekstrand said. “Unlike some of your people, they understand the need to obey the treaty and stay in the Nether.”
“But a stone thrown in the Nether has ripples in Mundanus, dear Sorcerer, you know that. The Rose is destroyed, her power broken. Look to the Irises if you want to worry about a family’s influence. Now our business is concluded, I bid you good day.”
Ekstrand said nothing as the Prince walked away. Once the Fae was out of sight he opened a Way back into the mundane field and then another into the ballroom once he was sure no one else was there.
“No right to interfere,” he muttered to himself as he unhooked the cape at his throat and left the room.
Max followed him and was about to ask for his orders when Petra intercepted them in the hallway.
“Mr Ekstrand, I was checking the data in the monitoring room when I noticed this.” She handed him a piece of paper. “I thought you should know.”
Ekstrand scanned it and clicked his tongue. “I told you we should have killed him.” He turned to Max. “That mundane, the one who was Charmed, he’s been back to Exilium. Unescorted. See to him would you?”
Cathy and her father rode the rest of the way to the Oak in silence once the faerie had gone. It was impossible for Cathy to tell whether the magic had done something spectacularly awful or wonderful; her father was inscrutable.
The lack of scenery made the silence unbearable. Every minute she came up with an argument to present, but then a predictable counter-argument surfaced just as quickly. Then she realised he would never help her get out of it, and the chances of escape had diminished to near zero. Two Fae lords were going to be there and both were highly motivated to see the marriage take place.
But she couldn’t just give in and she refused to accept it was the end of her hope for freedom. Even if the worst happened, and there was no way to postpone the event and then escape before it could be rescheduled, she could still get away after they’d married. It could be worse, she thought, I could be marrying Ming the Merciless. Then the nervous giggling started, followed swiftly by the urge to cry.
“I understand it’s natural for the bride to be nervous,” her father said. “Just be brave, pay attention to when you have to speak and what you have to say, and the day will go smoothly, I’m sure of it.”
“You make it sound easy.”
“In many ways it is, Catherine.”
She tried to imagine him as a rebellious young man. She failed. “Were you scared, when you went over the top in the war?”
He looked down at the carriage floor. “I was more angry than afraid.”
“With the top brass?”
“No, my father.”
Cathy frowned. “I don’t understand.”
“He Charmed me before I left. I didn’t know about it until I first saw action. Made it impossible for me to be killed by bullets or small pieces of shrapnel. Of course, if I’d stepped on a mine, I’d have been done for, but it still did enough.”
“I didn’t think Charms like that existed.”
“It was very powerful. He almost bankrupted the family and had to make a terribly serious bargain with Lord Poppy to get it.”
“Why were you angry though? Surely it made it all a lot less scary.”
He shook his head, he looked so saddened by her question. “It deprived me of true bravery. All of my men faced death with such courage, but I knew it was very unlikely I’d die out there. I felt like a fraud.”
�
��So I suppose forcing me to marry someone is nothing compared to ordering men to their deaths.”
“We all have our duties, Catherine. For some it is to fight and die for their country. For you it is to marry a man and guarantee our prosperity in Aquae Sulis and the favour of our patron.”
What could she say to that? She kept her silence, exploring the world through her father’s eyes. Finally, she really understood why he’d been so exasperated with her. “I’m sorry I’m not what you wanted me to be,” she said, feeling the carriage slow down.
“Thank you.” For the first time she could remember, he smiled at her. It made him look like a different man. “I’m sorry I didn’t try to talk to you sooner. We’re here. Hold your head up high, you look beautiful. And remember you’ll always have Papaver blood, even when you have the Iris name.”
She looked up, hoping the tears would spread out rather than fall. Her father reached across and pulled the veil back over her face as the carriage door was opened. He stepped out but she couldn’t move.
She’d been to the Oak once before as a guest of a distant cousin’s wedding. Cathy wondered if it was really as spectacular as she remembered. The tree was one of the oldest oaks in England and existed in Mundanus, the Nether and Exilium. As far as she knew, that was unique. In the Nether, a grand structure had been built around it where all of the marriages in the Great Families took place. In her memory it was cavernous and intimidating.
Father held out his hand to her and she knew this was it. She wondered whether tripping and gashing her face open or breaking her ankle would be enough to force postponement. When his hand clasped hers and he guided her firmly she realised the silliness of the idea.
The pale stone building was on the scale of a majestic cathedral but with an organic quality, like it had grown rather than been built. There were no visible joints between stone blocks; the Gothic archway door and the building around it appeared to have been shaped out of a single piece of stone. Only powerful Fae magic could make something so impossibly beautiful.
