Snitch Witch

by J L Collins

  She tapped her finger to her chin, her many bangles clinking together. “Hm. That does sound rather lovely, actually. You’ll have to give me the recipe sometime, Gwennie. I could always use a new product to bring customers around the Apothecarium.”

  “Come along,” Uncle Gardner mumbled, gesturing toward the bustling crowd ahead of us.

  He’d explained along the way that we would meet our royal escorts inside the outpost. Our escort’s flaming red hair done up in an elegant style and steely blue eyes tipped me off right away as we pushed through the dozens of people that stood between us and the open-air market. It was Brennrie, Tristan’s girlfriend.

  She was wearing a white linen tunic decked out in real wildflowers and vines wrapping around her waist.

  Aunt Bee was the first to speak up as we approached her, she and I wearing matching smiles. “Such a sweet girl for meeting us here. And here we thought we’d have to deal with the Royal Court Guard.”

  Brennrie gave a small curtsy to the three of us, her eyes solemn. “On behalf of the Queen, I thank you for meeting with us. My brother Nicolex and I will take you up to the throne room where she’s waiting for you.”

  Behind her, stood a familiar-looking Fairy Knight brandishing the same short sword Uncle G had shown us in the transport. The knight had a smug look on his face that reeked of superiority, not helping the already sharp, angular features of his face. He sort of reminded me of a hawk in that way.

  Nicolex adjusted his sword belt, narrowing his eyes at Uncle Gardner. “The Queen will not keep her patient temper for very long. I suggest we move now.”

  Even through the airy thoughts trying to take over in my head, I could sense the tension between the two of them. Uncle Gardner’s jaw tightened, but he gestured for Nicolex and Brennrie to lead the way. Aunt Bee and I exchanged an uneasy look. I didn’t like Nicolex’s tone one bit.

  It was much easier getting through the sea of people when everyone scurried out of the way of one of the Royal Court Guardsmen. I couldn’t really blame them—he looked like he was totally willing to move them out of way on his own. Everyone’s eyes seemed to follow us as we trailed closely behind the two Fairies, Uncle Gardner in front of me and Aunt Bee. She reached out to squeeze my hand, probably more for my benefit than for hers.

  The path that led down the valley cut through the thick forest right outside of the outpost. After we wound through the trees and broke out into a glade filled with gorgeous wildflowers, Nicolex and Brennrie appeared to be arguing up ahead of us, Brennrie gesturing up to the castle set up along the mountainside in the distance.

  Aunt Bee’s lips pursed when Uncle Gardner looked back over his shoulder at us, all three of us unable to hear them. Usually this was where Aunt Bee’s telepathic ability came in, but it only worked on fellow Witches, not other magical races.

  It was a struggle not to stop and enjoy the scenery, even with the impending meeting with the queen. My mind was racing, being pulled in a million different distracting ways.

  That’s what Arcadia can do to non-Fairy creatures. Especially us Witches.

  Colors blurred past me, and time seemed to stand still as we made the long walk out of the clearing of trees. There was that sweetish taste on my tongue again—on one hand, it was completely annoying to the sensible part of my brain that wished it would just go away. On the other hand, the candy-like air had this weird way of lifting one’s spirits. Like I just knew we were going to have a successful conversation with the queen—even if going into it, the odds were stacked against us.

  The Fae had a knack for using your own words against you, twisting them so that they confused even the one speaking them. For a race that never lies, they sure were skilled deceivers.

  I held tight to my wand in my pocket, hoping that just having it in my hand would help keep the jitters down and my thoughts straight. Next to me, Aunt Bedelia looked as though she were concentrating very hard on something. Maybe she’s having difficulty focusing, too.

  “Won’t be much longer once we get through the weeds,” Uncle Gardner said to us, turning to look over his shoulder.

  Of course he’d consider the gorgeous, blooming flowers at our feet to be nothing but weeds. But then again, you just never really knew in the Fairy lands.

  The path continued curving deeper into the valley until we were pretty much at the rocky cliffside of the mountain topped with the intimidating castle. I shaded my eyes with my hand, surprised by just how steep this side of the mountain was. It looked like it should be perched over the sea with the craggy rocks at the bottom of it, looming dangerously in front of us.

  I winced. “Please don’t tell me we’re meant to climb those. Because I’m definitely not wearing the right shoes for that.”

  Nicolex didn’t seem very impressed with my attempt to diffuse the situation, but Brennrie threw me a quick grin.

  “The Queen’s castle is not meant for outsiders. That’s why they must be invited in the first place,” Nicolex said without looking at me. I just knew he was wearing a smug look on his face.

  Placing his hand on a particularly smooth looking boulder, he pressed firmly until a grating sound—rock sliding against rock—signaled him to step forward, literally through the boulder itself.

  Brennrie gestured for us. “You may follow me this way.”

  One by one, we did exactly that. There was no resistance whatsoever, as if we’d continued up a side path that wound up the mountain instead of walking into the boulders. I raised my eyebrows, surprised at not only this, but the quickness in which Arcadia’s ethereal grab fell away from me.

  I guess the Fae don’t think it’s necessary to disorient their invited guests inside the castle.

  Inside, we were led through a short, ornately decorated hall until we reached a massive, open area brimming with what I could only imagine were the Fairies on the lower end of the hierarchy. The ceiling was in a rough steeple so high up that the very top corner of it was lost in the darkness. The floor was filled with glittering, vibrantly colored gems within larger stone tiles. It was a hub of sorts, with little shops and tents popped up in no particular order. There were even a few Fairies dancing around a firepit to our right, with a satyr playing a set of pipes to encourage them.

  It certainly had a different feel to it than the Spell Haven Market. More chaotic and less business-like.

  Nicolex pushed past some of the more oblivious Fairies who didn’t realize at first who he was, their spooked expressions making me wonder just what kind of person was escorting us to the queen. I thought about the short sword I found, frowning. Whether it was because we Witches get a bad rep with the Fae, or his own personal dislike for us, Nicolex was definitely not pleased with our company.

  One of the many rooms off the hub that honestly didn’t seem much different from the rest of them with the exception of not two but four guards standing in front of it, appeared to be the direction Nicolex was taking us. He paused in front of the guards, their stony faces only gazing forward. It may have been hard to take a fairy seriously with some of the gauzy, less practical things they wore or the way they spoke, but that wasn’t the case for these guys. With all of them standing at attention and their hands resting lightly on the hilts of their swords, they were not to be trifled with. So, this must be the way to the royal court.

  “These are the Queen’s personal guests. She is expecting us,” Nicolex stated, sounding just as formal as the other four looked. “Stand down.”

  The guards did as they were told, the two in the middle moving out and aside until all of us had been let into the new hallway. This one was dimly-lit, covered with all sorts of vines and more cramped than the first had been. How odd for the queen’s so-called ‘personal guests’ to be brought in through this way. If it was meant to be irritating then it was doing its job well.

  It didn’t last long though, and soon enough we were in another open area, this time much deeper into the castle than I would’ve thought. I nearly forgot my aunt and uncle; I w
as so busy taking in our surroundings. For my first time inside of the actual castle, I had to say I was impressed with the lack of so many steps needed to get to wherever you needed to go. Must be a fairy magic thing.

  Massive doors with shining gold swung open before us. A lilting voice called out, echoing in the cavernous room as we stepped inside of it, “Inquisitor Brady, please do come inside.”

  Instead of there being some long red carpet rolling right up to a throne at the very end, I was surprised to see a more informal sitting arrangement in this throne room. There were many large, tufted pillows scattered throughout the wide room, with groups of Fae lounging together. Some asleep, some softly playing music, and others… well, preoccupied. I cleared my throat, hoping no one could see the blush that was blistering my cheeks.

  “Your Majesty, as you’ve requested, I’ve brought along the Inquisitor and his guests.” He turned to us with a barely-contained scowl on his face. “Address our queen with respect.”

  If it hadn’t been for the fact that the Queen slowly rose to stand, I wouldn’t have even guessed where she was in the throng of various gatherings among the Fae. Elegantly tall with a stronger jawline than I’d imagined her to have, the queen stared at us with vivid electric-blue eyes that bore no pupils. I’d forgotten for a moment that the royal Fairies were Pixies while the rest of their kingdom were of varying Fairy races, like Elves in the instance of Brennrie and her rude brother.

  I did my best attempt at a curtsy, same as Aunt Bedelia, and Uncle Gardner gave the Queen a deep bow, leaning heavily on his cane. “Your Majesty,” he said as he stood back up.

  A curious smile appeared on the queen’s face. “Gardner. It’s been so long. You look well, I hope.”

  “It has,” he agreed. “And I am not as well as I’d like to be. I’d be in much better spirits if someone hadn’t murdered our Keeper of the Pages four days ago.”

  Right to the point as always.

  The smile didn’t falter on her face though, and she seemed to hover past the group she’d been sitting with. She was hovering—or floating, at least—her thin and feathery wings resembling buzzing hummingbird wings. If the queen wished, she could’ve zoomed off in the blink of an eye.

  “You’ve come here on this account, I believe?” It wasn’t really a question—more of an observation.

  Uncle Gardner nodded. “Yes, your Majesty. We have reason to believe that someone in your midst might have carried out the murder of Rourke O’Shea, or at least conceived the plot to do so.”

  The room erupted in gasps, some of them followed by frenzied whispers, the rest of the fairies in the room now glaring at us and his accusation. Nicolex’s hand even flexed over his sword, his eyes narrowing as if to warn my uncle. Brennrie didn’t seem as surprised as the rest of them, though she stood off to side with her brother, clearly marking her boundary.

  “Ah. Well, that is rather unfortunate, Gardner. Witches who come into my kingdom and so carelessly toss around words against one of my people are not the kind of guests I intend on keeping. However,” she said slowly and loudly, drowning out the boos and hisses from the crowd of Fairies of listening intently to her, “I will give you a chance to speak your piece.”

  Something else hid behind her words, but I wasn’t sure of what it was just yet.

  Uncle Gardner cleared his throat, placing his hands and cane behind his back and taking a few steps forward. “A fairy-made sword was found at the Athenaeum shortly after the murder. I don’t want to come off as out-of-line your Majesty, but this is a direct link to your kingdom—your own personal guard perhaps. We would like to question them in regards to this case.”

  Queen Mabily pursed her lips. “And this sword. I expect that you will at the very least, bring it to me so that I may take a look at it? Even though I may be the reigning queen, I do know of our weaponry. I’m well-versed in it, in fact. We shall start there, with you bringing forth your so-called evidence.”

  “We will do no such thing. Evidence collected in any MARC investigation stays in place at our headquarters, not to be tampered with. I couldn’t bring it here even if I wanted to.”

  Wincing at his harsh tone, I glanced at Aunt Bee. She was busying herself with the frayed edge of her sleeve, pretending not to hear a word Uncle Gardner was saying.

  Just as irritated with her for not speaking up to clarify, I sighed, knowing I didn’t have the same choice. I took a small step forward until I was standing right beside my uncle. “Forgive me, your Majesty. I think what the Inquisitor is trying to say is that this evidence is impertinent to our case, and even still, we are not sure of its relation to the murder. The murder,” I swallowed against the sudden dryness in my throat, “wasn’t seemingly committed with the sword.”

  I ignored the angry expression on Uncle Gardner’s in my peripheral vision and instead, kept my eyes on the queen, not wanting to look away and show even a moment of hesitation. If there was one thing I learned as a Shadow Hand, it was to never lay all of your cards out on the table when it came to the Royal Court.

  She regarded me with a leveled look, her thin arms folding over her chest. “I see. You bring up this matter to me, yet it may not actually have anything to do with us?”

  Uncle Gardner cut me off before I could respond, “—it is still important that we follow every trail!”

  She held her hand up. “I no longer wish to be part of this conversation with you, Inquisitor,” she said, pausing before pointing to me. “You, however, I would like a private audience with.”

  All eyes fell on me across the room, and I blinked. Oh, boy. Me and my big mouth.

  11

  Trial in the Tower

  It took Aunt Bedelia nudging me to realize I hadn’t yet moved. “Go on, Gwennie-Bee,” she whispered softly enough so that only I could make out her words.

  I wasn’t expecting any kind of direct communication with the Queen—I figured that would be Uncle Gardner’s territory. And judging by the look on his face, neither had he.

  “As ruler of Arcadia, I do have little time for matters outside of my kingdom,” the Queen said, raising a brow in my direction. “If you’d like to make your case for involving our kind in this so-called murder investigation, I suggest you make haste, Miss Brady.”

  At the sound of my name, I snapped to and pushed back the invading thoughts of how in the world she knew it, away from the forefront of my mind. “Of course, your Majesty,” I said, giving another small curtsy.

  My feet took me forward even though they felt heavy as if I were trudging through tar, and I took one last look at my family before following the queen and a handful of her personal guards down a haphazard path between the dozens of large cushions and their inhabitants.

  Behind us, the rest of the room seemed to come back to life, their loud voices carrying throughout. Keeping my head in the game, I bit back the numerous questions I had for the Queen. I needed to approach my words very carefully with her.

  The next few halls blurred past as I focused forward. We passed by several parlor rooms, one room with the hugest grand piano I’d ever seen, a few Fairies here and there who quickly ducked into nearby rooms as our group marched on. I was beginning to wonder how long we’d been walking when we made a sudden detour up into a spiraling set of polished stone stairs, where two of the four guards remained standing at the bottom of the steps as a sign for anyone else to stay out. Several stained-glass windows greeted us as we wound up one of the castle’s turrets. The main theme of the beautiful and colorful glass pieces seemed to be nature, but a couple of them had a darker feel. My chest tightened as I tried to immediately forget the depiction of several different Fairy Knights holding the severed heads of many kinds of supernatural creatures: a troll head, an unmistakable Gorgon head with one large eye open, the head of a werewolf in wolf form, a pale humanoid creature with great fangs that must have been an exaggerated vampire, a banshee with long hair and a contorted look on her face where she’d been giving her death shriek. The worst of all
was the head at the end, where below it, lie a broken wand.

  It was well-known that the Fae wore their arrogance with pride at times, gloating about how they once ruled the entire land of Danann before the Witches grew in power and numbers. But this disgusting piece spoke volumes, no matter how long it’d been since it was first put into place.

  No one was paying attention to me thankfully, as I frowned walking past it.

  The Queen was the first to reach the only door at the very top of the tower, and looked down to me steps below, waiting. Doing my best to skirt around the remaining two guards, I nearly stumbled after her.

  She led us into what I could only describe as her bedroom, yet there wasn’t a bed in sight. Instead, there were chaise lounges in one corner, with curious large holes missing from the backs. It took me a moment to realize it was probably to accommodate some of the Fairy’s wings, similarly to the beautiful gowns hanging up on ivory-colored mannequins throughout the room. In between a few of them stood a pedestal with an actual cloud floating above the top of it. A glittering tiara covered in jewels sat on the cloud, more shimmering air surrounding it, obviously wrapped within protection magic.

  There was a formal-looking table with several high-backed chairs off to one side. If I had to hazard a guess, this was where the Queen and her advisors probably conducted Arcadia’s business. I wondered if she would have me sit there until she turned her back on the space, watching me with interest as I took in my surroundings.

  In another corner was a large collection of books hovering above wooden shelves along the curving wall. The air around these shelves shimmered as well, making me wonder what kind of books the famous Queen Mabily was interested in. The spines were wordless, and there were a few books spread open across a vast mahogany desk that looked like a tree had taken roots right there in the tower. Behind the desk was another high-backed chair, though this one was more intricately designed. Vines and other flora were carved into a single large piece of a black wood I couldn’t place, set along the edges of the cushioned seat. Royal blue velvet covered the top and bottom cushions and reminded me of what I imagined the actual throne to look like. The Queen used this room for more formal matters for sure.