by Violet Grace
‘What is she doing?’ Abby says, confusion all over her face. ‘She looks ridiculous.’
‘No,’ I say, wishing that I could agree with Abby for once. ‘She looks royal.’
An orchestra springs to life, and the anthem for Albion echoes around the amphitheatre. As the music plays, I study Jules’s square posture, the confident tilt of her chin. If her cheeks ache from holding the smile, the way mine used to, she doesn’t show it. As much as it burns to admit it, Jules looks like a natural, far more than I ever did. She appears to have slotted easily into a role that I only ever wrestled with.
Deep down I knew Jules stayed behind for her own reasons. But part of me still hoped that she’d had some ulterior motive, some plan to defeat Damius from within. I wanted her to return my mother to the throne. I wanted her to be the loyal servant I had known from the start.
But she has betrayed me. She’s betrayed us all.
‘This can’t be right. She’s faking it. She must be … to undermine them by stealth,’ says Abby, but the conviction in her voice is gone.
‘She’s not faking it, Abbs,’ says Tom, staring up at Jules. ‘Look at her. She knows exactly what she’s doing.’
As the anthem concludes, thousands of Fae bow in unison, before waving, smiling and blowing kisses to Jules. A chant starts up. ‘Princess Jules, Princess Jules.’
Servants walk through the crowd, collecting trinkets and bouquets of blossoms. I’m surrounded by people who seem happy enough to give their love and loyalty to Jules. What right do I have to force them to take back something – someone – they don’t appear to want? Who am I restoring House Raven for?
‘I have to talk to her,’ says Abby urgently.
‘It’s not safe,’ Tom whispers.
Abby raises an eyebrow. ‘And you’ve never done anything risky for the one you love?’
With that, she turns and disappears into the sea of people. The chant grows louder as Tom and I follow her, but we only make it a short distance before someone grabs my wrist. I spin around, ready to summon the Art, but then I see who it is.
Callie.
I go to hug her, filled with the relief of seeing her alive and well, but stop myself at the last moment.
She drops into an almost imperceptible curtsey, then discreetly pulls up the sleeve of her white maids’ gown. The insignia of House Raven is imprinted on her wrist. Goosebumps prickle along my arms.
The jostling of the crowd pushes her closer to me. She whispers into my ear. ‘You have come to end this?’
I look around. ‘They don’t seem to need saving. I’m not sure they need anything from me.’
Callie looks at me with a determination and certainty I have never seen in her before.
‘My family died because they believed in your family. If Damius wins, they will have died for nothing, and I will have lost everything.’
Tears well in my eyes. I hadn’t thought of that.
‘And I’m not the only one,’ Callie says. ‘We have rallied. We are ready to fight.’ Her eyes dart back and forth between the people and me. ‘Do not mistake fear for loyalty.’
I take her hand. ‘I can never repay you for what your family has sacrificed for me, for my family, for our people. Nothing can bring back what you have lost. But I promise you, I will fight for both of our families.’
For an instant, raw emotion cracks across Callie’s face. Then she’s all business again. ‘I have assumed duties as Jules’s maid. I have information for you,’ she says, beckoning for Tom and me to follow her.
Keeping our heads down, we trail Callie as she weaves through a sea of bodies towards the base of the stadium seating. She pulls us into a tiny, damp alcove created from fallen stones behind the stairs.
‘Damius has told everyone that you plan to destroy the Art in Iridesca, just as you destroyed it in the Chalice.’
‘Textbook battle strategy,’ Tom says. ‘How do you unite a fragmented army, a disaffected populous? You give them a common enemy.’
‘You give them me,’ I whisper.
Tom takes my hand and squeezes it.
‘Damius is treating Jules as the true heir,’ Callie continues. ‘Since returning, she has spent most of her time at his side.’
‘That makes no sense,’ Tom says, lowering his voice even further. ‘Damius started a war because of Chess’s human blood, but now he’s okay with Jules being half human?’
‘It’s simple,’ I say. ‘He needs her power.’
Callie and Tom both look at me.
‘My moral fairy blood makes me the most powerful fairy in history. But I’m not the only half-blood anymore, am I?’
‘But Jules isn’t a fairy,’ says Tom.
‘No, she’s not,’ I say. ‘As scaevus she wasn’t any use to Damius in unlocking the Luck of Edenhall – only a fairy could do that. But he has a new use for his mongrel daughter. She’s his insurance policy against me. Only Jules can match my power.’
‘Jules is a powerful warrior,’ Callie says, ‘but her power is surely no match for yours.’
I think back to what Gladys taught me. To find my true power, I had to first learn not to fear it. Jules has been afraid of who she is, her true nature and her real power, her entire life.
‘Not yet, maybe,’ I say. ‘But when she masters it, it will be.’
‘Then we don’t have much time,’ Callie says.
‘Mobilise your army and be ready for my signal,’ I tell her.
She curtsies, turns, and disappears into the crowd.
The chant stops abruptly and the crowd falls silent. The Luminaress holds her hand up, readying herself to address the audience. ‘People of Albion, declare your allegiance to House Gwyillion,’ the Luminaress commands.
A wave of bodies bends towards the ground again.
‘Gwyillion?’ I whisper to Tom.
‘Rufus Gwyillion,’ Tom whispers back. ‘Queen Signe’s husband. He opposed the treaty she made with King James. He couldn’t prevent it but he forced her into exile after it was signed, and then ran a regency monarchy until Signe’s daughter was old enough to rule.’
‘So Damius has fashioned himself after his distant grandfather who hated humans and queens.’
‘That’s about it,’ Tom says.
‘Wonderful.’
‘Why do you think he’s not here?’ Tom says.
‘Because he’s smart. If he’s not here, I can’t kill him.’
‘Rise!’ The Luminaress’s voice echoes off the stone pillars and arches in the amphitheatre. ‘We are gathered here to honour the heir to the throne, Princess Jules of House Gwyillion —’ There’s more cheering, and Jules dips her head in a show of humility.
‘With the execution of a traitor,’ the Luminaress finishes.
My stomach turns as I wonder which poor sod is about to be murdered.
Seven unicorns kitted out in armour emblazoned with Damius’s insignia trot into the stadium, forming a semicircle around the podium. The trumpets sound triumphantly, and the unicorns turn to the royal box and bow their horns to Jules. Drums rumble once more as General Cassidy marches out into the arena, escorting a figure in a hooded cloak, hands bound behind their back. Two Protectorate guards bring up the rear.
The physique and the gait of the prisoner look familiar. The uneasy feeling in my gut intensifies. I stand on my tippy toes, trying to get a better view. A string of agonising moments pass as the prisoner is escorted up the stairs and onto the execution podium.
General Cassidy pulls the prisoner’s hood back to reveal the bruised and blood-streaked face of the Chancellor.
Hisses and boos rumble around the amphitheatre, followed by a chant of ‘Traitor, traitor,’ that begins in one section but soon ripples throughout the crowd until it fills the morning air.
The Chancellor stares them all down. Even now, he still manages to maintain his proud, pompous demeanour. I find myself surprised – and a little bit ashamed – at his loyalty to me and my house. I half expected him to go grovell
ing to Damius, deciding his duty is to serve the throne, regardless of who is sitting on it. He has more integrity than I credited him with. I’m also hoping he was arrested after he fulfilled my orders, and not before.
The Luminaress calls again for silence.
‘Bartholomew Corbett has been stripped of his title of Chancellor and sentenced to death for aiding the disgraced and traitorous mongrel in her plot to destroy Albion,’ she announces.
The crowd jeers at the mention of me. I wonder how many are faking it out of fear and how many have actually bought these lies. I look over at Jules, silently willing her to intervene. I don’t think she rated him much – as a Chancellor or as a person – but the Jules I know and have grown to love would never allow someone to be murdered in her name. But she doesn’t flinch as she stands there, surveying proceedings.
‘I have to save him,’ I whisper to Tom.
‘Chess, this isn’t what we came for. Do you really want to blow our cover for that rat?’
‘I can’t just let them murder him,’ I say. ‘And anyway, the people we came for don’t look like they need us.’
I reach down to my power and find it welling inside me, waiting for instruction as I weave my way though the crowd towards the execution podium.
‘Ready,’ barks General Cassidy.
In unison, the unicorns lower their heads, pointing their horns towards the Chancellor. The crowd erupts into cheering, jostling and chanting. They’re like a pack of starved feral dogs, baying for blood.
With dignified acceptance, the Chancellor squares his shoulders and faces his firing squad.
‘Aim,’ General Cassidy says.
Adrenaline floods my body. Seven streams of golden light shoot from seven horns, converging into one lethal ball of power. My wings burst from my back as the ball of deadly energy grows and sizzles, suspended about ten metres in front of the Chancellor’s heart.
I launch upwards. Confused murmurs echo around the amphitheatre, before people start to realise what’s happening. Heads tilt and fingers point in my direction. Glancing down at the faces, I see a mixture of horror, disgust, fear, awe and yes, some hope.
I loop above the crowd and zoom downwards, positioning myself between the flaming ball of death and the Chancellor.
‘Stand down,’ I command.
I can feel Jules’s eyes on me a moment before her wings appear, rather than flare, from her back, and she launches off the royal balcony.
‘Chess! What are you doing?’ Jules yells as she flies closer to me.
‘What you should have done,’ I yell back.
‘Fire!’ General Cassidy yells.
The world slows as the unicorns release their deadly ball of fire. I unleash a perfect arc of energy, knocking their blast off course. Fire races along the grass of the amphitheatre, triggering a rush of people. But not all of them are fleeing. Many have stopped, slack-jawed, looking from Jules to me and then back to Jules. I wonder how many of them are loyal to me, how many I can count on to support me if I need them.
I spot Abby in the crowd below, her face frozen in a mix of confusion and betrayal. Tom, by contrast, is on high alert, covering me, his ears pricked, nostrils flared, watch-band glistening. The Chancellor just stands on the podium, wide-eyed and dazed. General Cassidy and the unicorns look to Jules, waiting for their next order, but Jules’s attention is all on me.
I study her, waiting for her to strike, but she just hovers in the air.
‘Just go,’ Jules says. She sounds authoritative but I swear I catch an edge of pleading in her voice.
My eyes flick to the crown on her head.
‘The former First Office of the Protectorate, so full of honour and integrity, sells her soul – for what? Sparkly things?’ I curl my lip. ‘If I’d known of your lust for gold and gemstones I would have given you some of mine months ago. To me they were useless baubles of indefensible wealth.’
Jules touches the ruby choker around her neck, tugging on it as if it were a noose.
‘Guilty conscience?’ I ask.
‘My conscience is none of your concern.’
‘I admired you,’ I say, my voice cracking slightly. ‘Your integrity, your purpose. I thought you stood for something.’
‘You do not have the right to judge me.’
‘That boat’s sailed. I’ve judged you plenty already, cousin.’
Jules flinches at the word as it echoes around the amphitheatre. The assembled crowd look at one another, murmuring.
I push on. ‘It was bad enough that you would betray a friend the way you did – and we were friends, Jules, I can’t have been wrong about that – but we’re also family. We were the first real family that either of us ever knew, and you sold me out for pageantry and tiaras.’
‘That is incorrect,’ Jules says in a low voice. She edges closer to me, in what I’m guessing is a futile attempt to keep our conversation private. ‘I do not deserve your censure.’
More murmurs ripple through the crowd.
‘You are not the victim in this story,’ I say with a bitter laugh. ‘You are the kingmaker. You begged me to spare your father and now House Raven has fallen and you’re sleeping in my damn bed.’
Her brow furrows in confusion. ‘You never wanted the crown. I am sworn to protect it. That has always been my duty – all I have ever lived for. This is the only way to save it.’ She lowers her eyes. ‘And it is the only way to save you,’ she says, quieter now. ‘It is better for everyone if you leave.’
‘Better for the Chancellor? I say. ‘You were about to watch a citizen of Albion get murdered.’
‘It is the Fae way. The natural order demands it.’
‘No, Jules, don’t give me that natural order excuse. This is Damius’s way. You’ve sold out your people to side with a monster.’
‘My father was abandoned, neglected,’ she says, avoiding my eyes. ‘He was cast out by people who were supposed to love him. Overnight, he went from being heir, from being wanted and loved, to being discarded rubbish. All he sought was to resume his rightful place.’
I give a slow clap. ‘Did Damius write that little speech for you or did you prepare it all by yourself? Because you left something out – that small detail of how Damius, the great guy who just wanted everyone to give him a chance, murdered his own people.’
‘King Damius required loyalty. That is no different from any other monarch,’ Jules says. ‘And now that he has the throne the Crown will be safe. Stability will be restored to Albion.’
‘Did he tell you that?’
‘We have discussed the matter at length,’ she says. ‘Once the slate has been cleaned —’
‘You mean once the dissenters have been murdered.’
Jules ignores my dig. ‘The good of the many must prevail over the good of the few. Once the slate has been cleaned, order and the law of nature will prevail. For the sake of the people of Albion and your own family, Francesca, I counsel that you leave now and do not return.’
My mouth drops open. I can’t believe she is defending Damius’s brutality. I can only think that she hasn’t had time to comprehend the full extent of his evil, or that Damius has brainwashed her, playing on her extreme sense of duty. Or her desire for a father. But that’s still no excuse. With Jules’s training, her intelligence, her morality, she should know better. Magic instinctively sparks at my fingertips.
I signal to Tom with my eyes to get the Chancellor off the podium.
‘Your father turned your people to pycts,’ I say more loudly, to keep everyone’s attention on me as Tom moves over to the Chancellor. ‘He turned you into a pyct! Or have you forgotten that?’
Even the Protectorate unicorns and soldiers are focusing on me now. Damius’s pyct virus affected everyone to some degree.
But my words don’t make her see reason, they just make her angry. Her face sets with fury.
‘Why are you supporting this madman?’ I say.
‘Because he is my father!’
‘Not
for much longer,’ I yell. ‘I’m going to end this.’
I see it the moment she snaps. Jules unleashes a sizzling bolt of energy at my heart, conjured from her bare hands. The aim, the size of it, the intensity – it’s not a warning shot. It’s a death blow.
The crowd gasps.
The world slows once again as Jules’s golden flame closes in on me. In the background haze I hear Tom yelling my name, and Abby screeching Jules’s. It feels like a dream, a nightmare that I will have to wake from at some point because it couldn’t possibly be real.
I regain my focus and force myself to accept that my friend, my cousin, is trying to kill me. At the last second I concentrate the energy tingling on my fingertips to deflect Jules’s blast.
Without missing a beat, Jules shoots a volley of flames towards me. They are so fast and so strong, I strain with effort to deflect each one into the sky.
I’ve never seen Jules fight like this before. She is already stronger than she was. And, more worryingly, she’s not fighting like a trained officer of the Protectorate.
She’s fighting like me.
I can’t keep this up. Sooner or later, I’m going to slip up and Jules’s barrage is going to hit me. I grit my teeth and furrow my brow, fending off each blast. She’s closing in on me, the energy blasts so fast they’re becoming a torrent.
I need to even the scales, so I use the one advantage I have over Jules. I can fly faster and longer than she can with her simulated wings.
Certain that she won’t dare trans to her unicorn form in front of the assembled Fae, I soar upwards, high enough to see a swirl of dark clouds gathering on the horizon.
Looking back, I swear I see fear flash on Jules’s face. But it’s gone in an instant, and she zooms towards me, conjuring flaming blasts from both hands. I dodge them and accelerate, goading her to chase me, staying just far enough out of her reach to be safe, but close enough for her to think she has a chance of catching me. I circle the perimeter of Windsor Castle, weaving between trees and looping around the outer buildings.
