by M. J. Scott
I wrenched my thoughts back. The court was no place to lose concentration. Such a lapse could be deadly if things turned ugly.
Bryony curtseyed gracefully, straightened, and began to speak. Out of deference for those who’d come with us, she didn’t speak Fae. The long, flowery phrases of greeting sounded slightly odd to my ear in the human tongue, but she made them sound weighty and respectful nonetheless.
Not that it appeared to make any difference to those listening to her. Most of them, like my father, held their faces to a bland court default of polite attention, not a flicker of emotion showing in their eyes or postures. It was almost as though she were addressing a row of finely dressed statues. Or it would have been if it wasn’t for the three who were not quite so controlled.
Salvia was watching Bryony now, rather than me, but that didn’t abate the anger in her eyes. Two down from her, Beran sa’Liniel looked curious. And tired. He was of the queen’s Family—the sa’Liniels were the most closely linked with my own Family—and must be bearing quite a weight now that she’d gone. The queen, of course, had no allegiance to any Family once she assumed the throne, but that didn’t mean that she cut ties completely, and even remote as she had been, obviously her Family—those members who were old enough to have known her before she’d come to power—had loved her. Beran had been the queen’s cousin, the closest thing she’d had to a sibling, given that her parents, who had both died when she was younger than I was now, had only borne one child.
Maybe just as well. Given the power that had sprung to life in their only offspring, it was best that they hadn’t had any more who might have been equally strong. That would have only caused strife in the court, where strength was the ultimate decider of authority.
If the rulers are not the strongest of the Fae, then they cannot control the court and the Veiled World.
And that can only spell disaster.
Beran’s green gaze met mine as I studied him, and I made sure my face was calm. He raised one eyebrow slightly but then turned his attention back to Bryony. There were a thousand possible interpretations for that gesture, so I didn’t bother trying to parse it just then. As far as I knew, he was no enemy of mine. My exile hadn’t been personal; it had been the queen’s only option under our law.
Fighting to the death is only allowed in challenges to decide a question of truth. Otherwise you are meant to fight to wound and stop at first blood or when one of the combatants yielded. If Stellan and I had fought at court as we were supposed to, our duel maybe would have followed those rules. But he’d insisted on the challenge being fought elsewhere and had made it clear from the first blow that he intended that I wouldn’t leave alive.
Pity that he wasn’t quite as good a swordsman as he’d been led to believe.
Not as good as me, at the last.
I took no pleasure in it. I hadn’t wanted to kill him, but neither was I going to let him kill me. And in the heat of defending my life I hadn’t thought of the consequences.
Not until I was standing over Stellan’s body, staring at Tomar’s horrified face, and realizing what the punishment was likely to be.
Consequences that would be more far reaching than I could have imagined.
Consequences that had taken me far away from this place and shown me strange things I might never have known.
Consequences that had cut me off from the people I loved. And now they’d brought me back again.
And it was as though no time had passed at all.
I was the one who had left. I’d gotten away from the Veiled World and all that came with it, but everyone else had stayed. And had to deal with what I’d left behind.
Perhaps I’d gotten the better end of that bargain after all.
Bryony was still talking, spelling out the situation in the City, facts I’m sure the Fae were well aware of. She spoke of numbers and the humans and the increasing violence of the Blood. She spoke eloquently and made her case with determination. She was, after all, her father’s daughter. And no child of Garrett sa’Eleniel would quail at speaking before the court. Particularly not under his eagle eye.
I let the words wash over me. I knew what she was saying. What was more important was to understand how those words were being received. To see if she could reach beyond those Fae facades and get to the people below. I didn’t think she had much chance of swaying Salvia.
Not if giving assistance to the humans meant doing something that would provide even one ounce of assistance to me.
Beran’s attention was on Bryony, no more eye contact to be had. Which left me with the other member of the court who was showing some hint of emotion.
Not anger. Not curiosity. Something closer, perhaps to alarm. Or worry. I didn’t quite know how to read the emotion on Alar sa’Inviel’s face. He had studied Guy for a long time when we first arrived. Guy, who’d killed Holly’s father, Cormen sa’Inviel’astar. Who was an offshoot from a lower branch of the Family but still part of the house nonetheless.
Though, given that Holly and Guy had accused Cormen of treason against the queen and Cormen had chosen to fight to defend his honor rather than speak a word to deny it, perhaps Alar wasn’t going to show what he thought of Guy’s actions. With the queen so clearly betrayed now, it wouldn’t do to demonstrate any sign that he had favored whatever plot Cormen had been involved in.
Which made me wonder what exactly he was concerned about now. Being found out if he was involved, or something else entirely? I couldn’t know. Not without knowing much more about what had been going on in the court.
I glanced at Fen. He was watching Bryony and the Fae, much as I was, his eyes looking faintly unfocused. I wondered if he was using his powers, searching the future to see what might be the outcome of what was happening here.
If only he was able to let me see it too.
Bryony finished talking and her father stepped forward. “Thank you, daughter,” he said. “Do you have anything further to add?”
He was clearly addressing the rest of us.
Guy looked at Master Columbine and Abernathy and then nodded. “If I could clarify a few things—”
Alar spoke up at that. “I think Lady Bryony has provided us with enough information.”
Lord sa’Eleniel turned slowly and fixed him with a look that would have made a wiser man fall silent. But Alar had enough experience not to be intimidated by his fellow courtiers. Or at least not to show it if he was.
“We know the situation, Lord sa’Eleniel,” he said, his use of the title rather than Bryony’s father’s personal name, a sign that he was, for now, keeping to protocol. “We’ve known it since the queen was killed. I don’t see what’s changed. We have more important things to do here in Summerdale.”
“I disagree,” Aster sa’Namiel said. “We seek a new ruler, true, but what happens outside the Veiled World also affects us. Our queen thought it important enough to hold the peace for four hundred years. Should we deny her wisdom and throw that away?” She sounded slightly exasperated, as if this wasn’t the first time she’d made this argument. Which was pleasing. It meant that at least some of the Fae didn’t want to retreat into the Veiled World and abandon the other lands to their fate. The question was, how many more were there who shared those views?
Lord sa’Eleniel held up a hand. “We shall not debate that here.”
Which meant not in front of the humans. I was beginning to remember the things that frustrated me about my kind.
“I will ask again, do any of the others of this party wish to speak?” Lord sa’Eleniel said.
Master Columbine stepped forward. “I do, my lord.” She curtseyed. Not quite as elegantly as Bryony had but skillfully enough. “Lady Bryony has told you of how things are in the City. And, yes, you can withdraw and leave us to our fate, but you need to consider all the ramifications. Trust me. If Ignatius Grey wins this conflict, he will take no chance of a return to the old days. If the Blood control the City they will also control the iron mines. What will
you do if he removes the controls over iron? If the City becomes a metal fortress? That will affect you, even here. If he extends the iron far enough, it could block your gate to our world. Maybe trap you here forever.”
This started a babble of voices as four or five of the Fae interjected at once. The arguments went nowhere.
Finally, after several minutes of furious debate, Lord sa’Eleniel thumped his cane again. “Thank you, Master Columbine. If there is nothing else, we shall consider your words and return to give you our verdict in due course.”
“Wait.”
The words were like a whip crack, my father’s voice—strange to my ears after all this time. I moved forward, then stopped myself.
Lord sa’Inviel turned, his head cocked. “Lord sa’Uriel?”
“I would like to hear what Asharic has to say.”
Asharic. Not my son. Was there a message in that choice of words?
I watched him, silent. His eyes, pale blue unlike mine, which came from my mother, were unreadable, leaving me with no clue of how my return affected him. Or how my exile had. Things had changed in the time I’d been gone. He was now Maxim sa’Uriel, head of the Family, thanks to the death of his uncle who had previously fulfilled that role. No longer just head of the Pellar line. Which meant that I could be too, one day.
And that technically I should no longer be Captain Pellar, but I’d grown too used to that name in the last thirty years to contemplate the change. Nor did I want to be head of a High Family one day and spend my days mired in Fae politics and the administration of a Family.
The silence stretched. Apparently my father had said all he was going to say for now. I wasn’t entirely sure how I felt about that. There was an ache in my stomach, the manifestation of my wanting him to give me any sort of indication that he was happy that I was back. But he just stood and watched me steadily.
Eventually Lord sa’Eleniel nodded. “That is your right.” He turned back to me. “Asharic sa’Uriel’pellar, speak.”
It was clear that he had little enthusiasm for the idea, but even if he had been appointed to run things at this meeting, he didn’t control the court and he had to do as my father had requested and let me speak.
I took a breath. I’d imagined coming home. Imagined speaking to my parents again. I’d not envisioned it this way, giving a performance in front of the High Families, not being able to speak of anything that had happened or even how they were.
But if I did this well, perhaps there would still be a chance for that later. I’d wanted to delay, to not see my parents until after I’d fulfilled my contract with the Templars, but now, with my father before me, I didn’t want to leave without being able to speak to him.
I made my bow, the courtesies of the court too deeply ingrained in me to forget, and then straightened. “I cannot add to the facts that have been presented to you,” I said. “But I will say this. I have seen war. I have seen more of it than perhaps most of you in the time . . .” I hesitated, unsure how to say what I had to say.
“In the time I have been away from the court. War and the death and pain it brings. I have seen those who have failed to defend themselves or held off too long, thinking they did not need to be involved. And I have learned this.” I paused again, taking time to make sure they were all paying attention to what I had to say. Even Salvia. “I have learned that you can’t always go back and change a mistake. That you have to act when you have the chance. Because war brings change. And many things that can’t be undone.”
Chapter Ten
BRYONY
“Do you think they’ll agree?” Guy asked when we were back in the carriage and on our way back to my father’s house.
I’d thought that we’d be asked to wait at court, but instead my father had sent for the carriage. I didn’t know if he expected the deliberations to take a long time or whether he was being cautious and making sure that I was somewhere protected while we waited, but either way, it was frustrating to be sent away like a child.
I shook my head at Guy. “I don’t know. Fen, did you see anything?”
Fen frowned. “Nothing useful. When the queen was alive . . . my visions here were strong. They’re still strong but they’re confused.”
“Too many variables to see clearly,” I suggested. “With no one in control of the Veiled World, there have to be a thousand possibilities of what can happen here, let alone in the City.”
Fen growled. “Maybe. Either way, I’m no help. I saw your father in a lot of it,” he added.
My stomach tightened. “Doing what?”
“Nothing in particular. But he was in almost every scene I saw.”
Damn. I hoped that didn’t mean that my father was going to somehow wind up in control. He was strong, yes, but I didn’t think he was strong enough to rule the court. Not unless he’d been hiding his skills for a long time. Or was going to take out all his rivals.
It was a foolish system really, this reliance on sheer strength to choose a ruler. Why couldn’t we have a more sensible type of government?
I knew the answer. None of the human territories had a land brimming with magic as we did. Our ruler needed to be able to contain and control that energy for us all to survive. The queen had been a good ruler. She had brought peace and relative stability to our kind and the City. I only hoped that we’d be as lucky again.
“Well, if Salvia sa’Ambriel has anything to do with it,” Ash said, “we’ll all rot in hell before the Fae lift a finger to help us.”
“She didn’t seem overly pleased to see you,” I agreed. “But the sa’Oriels are not as strong as some of the other Families, and the sa’Ambriels even less so. Salvia has done more than her share of scheming and made herself a number of enemies over the years. And she’s nowhere near strong enough to become queen, so her influence isn’t going to be all that great in the future.”
“I hope not. She’d let the City burn in the hopes of frying me,” Ash said.
Guy frowned. “Which one was Salvia?”
“The redhead with the yellow eyes,” Fen said. He grinned at Ash. “Don’t worry—she never seemed to like me much either when I was at court. So it’s not just you.”
“Does this woman have something personal against you?” Guy asked.
Ash turned to me, looking surprised. “Didn’t you tell them?”
I shook my head. “It’s not my story to tell.”
“Tell us what?” Guy asked.
The carriage jolted a little as the road took a bend, and Ash swayed with the motion. “You know that I was exiled. Well, Salvia’s son is the reason for that.”
“You killed him?” Fen asked, sounding startled.
“He challenged me to a duel. In the end, he wasn’t as good a fighter as me.”
Liam’s brows drew down. “I thought Fae duels were to first blood?”
“They are if you follow the rules,” Ash said. “Stellan didn’t want to follow the rules. And in my defense, he was doing his best to kill me.” He rubbed his side absently and I wondered if there was a scar there from one of the wounds he’d received in the duel. The Fae healers had done a perfunctory job on him at the time and I’d been forbidden to interfere. The Fae don’t usually let scars form. If Ash had really been sent away with wounds partially healed, it was a measure of the disgrace he’d been in.
My hand curled in my lap. Scars marring the smooth skin I remembered seemed like a sacrilege. But no doubt he had a few. He had healers in his troop but none of them full Fae as far as I knew. And no one else had quite our skills with healing. The sunmages were strong and skilled, but the strongest of them were unlikely to be the kind of men and women who take up life with a mercenary army.
And I was suddenly, horribly, curious to see exactly where those scars might be. To learn a new map of his body.
Which was madness and I pushed away the sudden heat that threatened to fog my good sense into nothingness. I’d let him kiss me earlier. Maybe I would’ve let him do more than that if we had
n’t been interrupted, but that had been a temporary lapse of reason.
I knew better now than to let him get his hands on me again.
The carriage jolted again, a small bump and then a larger one. I started to lean toward the window to see exactly what path the driver was taking us on for the ride to be so rough, but then Fen yelled and dragged me back and the road in front of us exploded, sending the carriage tumbling like a child’s toy.
I saw stars as my head hit the edge of the seat, but somehow Fen’s grip kept me from falling too hard against anything else as the carriage flipped once, twice, and then crashed to a stop.
I lay stunned, staring up at the sky, which showed clearly through what remained of one of the windows. I blinked, trying to make sense of it. Why was the window above me? I couldn’t seem to quite make my brain work.
Ash’s face leaned into view, his face bloodied. He peered at me, then touched my shoulder. “Bryony, we have to get out of the carriage.”
Around me, I heard a variety of groans and Guy’s voice asking if everyone was all right. I blinked again, aware of a pain in my arm, and then there was a bright burst of power and the side of the carriage vanished in a flash of heat.
“Everybody out,” Ash ordered. His hand closed around mine and he pulled me forward toward the exit he’d made. Guy appeared in front of me, already outside, and his hands were gentle as he helped me out. The shock of air on my face seemed to jolt my brain into functioning. I pivoted and stared back at the carriage and past it to the road. Where there was a gaping hole and where the horses lay dead, half tumbled into the pit.
“Someone tried to kill us,” I said, somewhat stupidly.
“Yes,” Guy agreed grimly as he helped Master Columbine out of the carriage. “And they might not be finished. Can you do something about that?”
I blinked again and sent my powers seeking down into the land. It answered my call obediently. Good. We had reached sa’Eleniel territory at least. I sent a call for assistance toward the house and at the same time threw up a ward to shield the remains of the carriage and us, anchoring it to two tall oak trees and a pile of rocks to form a triangle of shelter around us.
