by Jayne Faith
He brushed past me, and I turned and trailed after him, an unsettling mix of emotions twisting my stomach. Part of me was happy to see him, but I also feared the repercussions if Periclase discovered he’d left. My guilt over killing his mother lodged like a stone in the middle of my chest.
“I summoned Maxen here,” Oberon said, moving out from behind his desk with purposeful, swift strides. “We will do this quickly. Please.” He gestured for Maxen to take the figurative floor.
Maxen went to stand in front of the dark fireplace. He was pale, his blue eyes red-rimmed with fatigue, and by the slight hollows in his cheeks, I guessed he hadn’t been eating much lately.
“Periclase’s soldiers are still thick throughout the fortress,” Maxen said, speaking with quick, clipped words. “They have the whole place on lockdown, with everyone confined to their rooms. Periclase has pulled out some of the military leaders for meetings, but I haven’t been included in any of them. The violence seems to have stopped, but the threat is clear that if anyone steps out of line, there will be bloody repercussions.”
“What of Finvarra?” asked tall, leggy King Delun, ruler of the Kelpie kingdom.
“Finvarra is currently in the Duergar palace, though he occasionally comes to the fortress.”
There were murmurs, and I heard Oberon say to Moreau that we needed to act fast.
I couldn’t imagine how Maxen was getting such detailed information while confined to the fortress jail, even if he was able to sneak out occasionally.
“What about Eldon?” Melusine asked.
Almost reluctantly, Maxen’s gaze drifted over to me for a brief moment. “He’s been traveling back and forth between the Duergar palace and the stone fortress, as far as I can tell.” I thought I saw something in his eyes, something that hinted he understood just how completely Eldon had controlled my actions when I’d stormed the fortress with Periclase’s army and killed Marisol. Maybe it was wishful thinking on my part.
The kings and queens exchanged quick glances.
“Has Periclase acknowledged King Oberon’s certification of our kingdomhood?” I asked.
Oberon cleared his throat and cut a hard look at me. I stared back blankly for a moment.
Oh, damn. Damn.
I’d assumed Oberon had informed Maxen in the summons he’d sent. But Maxen didn’t know. He would have found out soon enough, no doubt, but this wasn’t the way I’d wanted it to happen. Not here, with all of these kings and queens staring at him and his emotions still so raw.
“This may seem strange and abrupt,” Oberon said, addressing Maxen. “But I’ve granted your mother’s petition. The Stone Order is now the Carraig Sidhe kingdom.”
Maxen’s mouth fell open, his sapphire blue eyes widening. I thought I saw the faint mist of tears in them. He blinked several times and then swallowed.
“I . . . I don’t know what to say,” Maxen said, his voice ragged.
I couldn’t even imagine the turmoil of emotions he was feeling. Regret that his mother wasn’t there. Anger that Oberon hadn’t made the move while she was still alive. Maybe confusion about why he’d done it at all.
“You should know that it was a move based on the advice of my oracle,” Oberon said. “Otherwise I never would have done it. The Carraig don’t have sufficient numbers or land to be a proper kingdom. And you must understand that my decision was no favor to any of you.”
Maxen closed his mouth, blinked a few times, and gave a short nod.
“You also should know that I’ve placed Petra on the Carraig throne,” the High King finished. He spoke firmly, but respectfully.
Maxen’s head tilted slightly, and then his attention slowly turned to me, confusion turning to anger flashing in his blue eyes. His face had gone hard, his jaw muscles bunching as he clenched his teeth.
“I never would have done it, had the High King not insisted on the condition,” I said quietly. “I had no choice. You have to know that.”
It wasn’t my fault. None of it was truly my fault—not Marisol’s death, not the situation in the fortress, not being named Queen of the Carraig Sidhe. I knew all of that, but still, I felt the weight of Maxen’s anger and grief so acutely as he glared at me, it was all I could do to steadily hold his gaze. For a split second, I was almost grateful that my father Oliver had likely died in Periclase’s custody. At least Maxen would see that I’d sacrificed, too.
“I must get back to the fortress and into my cell before anyone notices I’m missing,” Maxen said to Oberon. “I will not be able to leave again for some time, Your Majesty.”
“We understand,” Oberon said. “Petra will be moving against Periclase very soon. Your confinement will come to an end.”
After a curt bow, Maxen turned to go.
“Maxen,” Oberon called.
Maxen turned at the doorway.
“You will recover from this. Your people need you. We need you. Faerie needs you.”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” Maxen said woodenly. Then he was gone.
My entire being longed to slink away, to be away from kings and queens, to try to hide from the image of Maxen’s face that was burned into my mind’s eye. But I couldn’t go. I pulled up to my full height, second shortest in the room to only the Gnome king, on whom I had a scant few inches.
Forcing purpose and confidence I didn’t feel, I went to where Maxen had stood only a moment before and faced the rulers who had silently but with keen interest watched the exchange between me, Maxen, and Oberon.
“Now we know Eldon is still there, and that will make things very difficult for us,” I said. I looked at Melusine. “Any ideas about what to do?”
She flipped the black-polished fingers of one hand. “Leave that to me.”
“But can you maintain the shield that’s protecting this castle as well as help us with Eldon back at the fortress?” I asked.
“I wouldn’t have said anything if I couldn’t,” she said, clearly annoyed by my doubt. She gave a loud, surly sniff. I had to give her credit—she seemed thoroughly sure.
Again, the Fae witch nearly made me smile. I nodded at her. “Much appreciated.” I turned to the rest of those gathered. “I need whatever forces you can spare, and I can’t wait. I have to act.”
“Before we do that,” Oberon cut in. “We need to go after Finvarra in the Duergar palace. We can’t waste the opportunity. Continue your discussions, and I will send an urgent summons to Jasper Glasgow. As soon as he arrives, a small group will set off for the Duergar realm with the mission of killing the so-called Unseelie High King.”
I couldn’t help flicking a glance around again, as Jasper’s absence seemed conspicuous. When we’d all met the previous night, Oberon had revealed that one of Finvarra’s own blood would have to take him out. That meant it was up to Jasper, who was Finvarra’s blood son, though only a few in Faerie were aware of that fact. Everyone else believed Jasper was a bastard son of King Periclase. For all we knew, Finvarra himself didn’t even know the truth.
While Oberon went to his desk to ready a message, we went around the group, and my heart dropped a little lower in my chest with every passing moment. King Moreau and Queen Vida were the only ones who pledged support. The Gnome and Kelpie kings declined, as did Queen Corrain, ruler of the Baen Sidhe. The new Spriggan King Trey, son of recently deceased Sebastian, gave a resounding and ice-cold no. I didn’t expect him to come to my aid. He’d been shooting me death stares since I arrived at the Summerlands, obviously blaming me for his father’s death. A small number of other Seelie rulers weren’t present, but I couldn’t hold out hope that they’d help.
Disappointment weighed heavily on me, but I didn’t know what else to say to persuade them. At least I had Moreau and Vida on my side. Their aid would have to be enough. I pushed down my bitterness toward the other rulers and my fears for my realm. The state of the Carraig Sidhe, though closest to my heart, wasn’t the only critical thing we had to contend with.
“With that settled, we must put Carraig c
oncerns aside,” Oberon said, rejoining us. “Finvarra has the Stone of Fal, and we must kill him before he begins using it.”
The Stone was an enchanted gem. It gave the holder the power to force people under his control and could be invoked up to three times by any one individual. We’d only recently learned that Finvarra had it.
“It will be a small, focused mission into the Duergar realm,” Oberon continued. “A group of three, perhaps. Jasper Glasgow must go, of course.”
Melusine raised her hand. “And me, to keep Eldon in check.”
I waited for Oberon to nod his approval.
“And you must go,” the High King said to me. “If there’s a fight, we need to make sure Glasgow has the best possible backup.”
I started to protest, but Oberon gave me a menacing look that clearly said he wasn’t in the mood for debate.
“Where is Jasper, Your Highness?” I asked, taking a different tack.
“He’s on an assignment,” Oberon said. I thought he’d say more, but he didn’t elaborate. He scanned the rest of the rulers. “Let’s disperse for now. I know some of you need to return to your respective realms.”
The others began to move toward the door, but Oberon beckoned at me. I went to the High King, tipping my head back to meet his gaze. He was nearly two feet taller than me, and I felt like a child staring wide-eyed into the face of a larger-than-life, mythical figure.
He watched the others leave and then turned his attention to me. “Jasper is trying to gain information about a magical artifact that might help us level the playing field against Finvarra’s Stone of Fal. Our fear is that even if Jasper manages to take him down in your fortress, the Stone will fall into the hands of some other Unseelie.”
My brows lifted in surprise. “Does such an object exist?”
“We certainly hope so. The Chalice of Dagda, an object of legend, could help us. We must not allow the Unseelie to discover that we’re seeking it.”
“Of course,” I said.
“He should arrive very shortly,” Oberon said. “Be ready to depart for the Duergar realm.”
I nodded, trying to imagine what could possibly match the power of the Stone of Fal. The legendary jewel allowed its possessor to almost effortlessly convince people to pledge their allegiance to him, to follow him with single-minded devotion. I couldn’t imagine a more dangerous thing for Finvarra to have. By all accounts, he hadn’t used it yet, but we all knew it was only a matter of time.
I went out into the hallway where I found Queen Vida speaking to Queen Corrain. Their conversation came to a close, and Vida flipped me a wave and strode over to me, her curvy hips swaying slightly.
“Did you ever imagine it?” she asked.
I peered at her. “Imagine what?”
She gave me a faintly amused smile. “That you would rule a kingdom.”
I gave a rueful laugh. “Not in the slightest. It was the furthest thing from my mind when I imagined how my life would unfold.”
“Ah well, Oberon certainly had his reasons for appointing you.”
When she’d first approached me, I’d been on guard. But it seemed she just wanted to make friendly conversation.
“It could easily turn out to be a huge mistake. In fact, it’s very likely,” I said with a sigh. “As you’ve probably already figured out, I’m a fighter, not a diplomat. I’ve no patience for ceremony, posturing, and negotiation.” I’d probably said too much, but I considered Vida an ally. It was too late to take it back, anyway.
“Well, you can’t rule by your sword alone. People will never love a ruler they fear, and you need their true loyalty. You’ll just have to figure out the ruling style that suits you best, as all kings and queens do. If that means leaving some of the posturing, as you say, up to others who are better suited, then so be it. You’re in charge.”
“Ceremony and posturing are too tightly intertwined with the crown, I’m afraid,” I said. “I’ll just have to learn how to do it and enjoy it, I suppose.” Or at least fake it really, really well.
Vida bid me goodbye just as a castle messenger came to fetch me. I followed the young man through bustling corridors where all servants and attendants displayed the red, orange, and new-grass green, the colors of the Summerlands realm, in some form, whether a simple vest, full dress, or livery. Fae of all races served Oberon and Titania. I didn’t know much about the selection process for such jobs but had heard that swearing blood oaths of some sort were required for serving in the Summerlands.
In the past, I’d had the vague impression that Oberon and Titania lolled around a fair bit, spending much of their time attending and hosting lavish parties and quarreling with each other and other Old Ones, and tearing themselves away from their follies to take care of Faerie business when the occasion called for it. There was a grain of truth to at least some of it, but since I’d spent some time in the castle and in the High King and Queen’s presence, I realized that much of my so-called knowledge of their lives might have been more idle gossip than truth. Especially now that the Summerlands was threatened, and all of their efforts were directed at preventing an Unseelie takeover.
The messenger brought me to a small private room, and when I entered, I found Jasper there alone. Warmth flooded through the center of my chest at the sight of him. His clothes were smudged with grime and his hair was a wind-blown mess, but I didn’t care. As soon as the messenger closed the door, I practically ran to him, ready to bowl him over.
“Wait,” he said with a laugh as I crashed into his chest. “I’m supposed to bow, and you’re supposed to—”
I didn’t let him finish, instead pressing my lips to his. He hummed low, an expression of his enjoyment that vibrated against my mouth, and wrapped his arms tightly around my waist.
When I pulled back, he looked down at me, his tri-colored eyes glowing.
“You’re a queen, now,” he said. “I suppose you’ll want to upgrade to someone other than a bastard prince.”
He said it purely as a tease, with no concern or even flicker of doubt, and my heart bumped as I realized how much I appreciated his strength and confidence. They’d been there all along, I was certain, but recent events had allowed him to begin to show the man he truly was.
I snorted and punched his chest plate lightly. “Even if you were a bastard prince, I’d probably keep you around.” I turned serious. “But soon everyone in Faerie will know the truth about you, that you’re not just an ordinary soldier.”
He pressed his lips together and nodded, inhaling slowly through his nose. “Aye. And I suppose it’s time. I can’t hide my true identity forever.”
I bit my lower lip. Yep. I really liked this man.
He arched a brow at me. “What?”
I shook my head. “Nothing, really. I’m . . . just very glad we met.”
He chuckled and his arms tightened, pulling me firmly against him. “As am I.”
I wanted to say something about Oliver, but if I brought up my father, it would take too much will and energy to compose myself afterward. There was too much work to do, and I didn’t have the luxury of such emotions.
A noise at the door sent us springing apart, and the glow of reuniting with Jasper was quickly replaced with a tensing of my insides when Oberon and Melusine entered the room. Oberon held a black velvet drawstring bag in one hand. When he stopped, he cupped the bottom of it protectively with the other hand.
Jasper bowed, and I nearly curtsied before I caught myself and inclined my head instead. Or maybe I should have curtsied. I needed to school myself on basic protocol among kings and queens at some point.
Oberon turned to Jasper and me. “We didn’t talk about timing. Do you need the cover of darkness to make your way into the Duergar realm?” I could tell by his expression that he hoped not, as that would significantly delay our mission.
I’d been thinking about the logistics of entering the palace and had formulated a loose plan.
“I don’t think that’s necessary, Your Majest
y,” I said, with a quick glance at Jasper. He knew the Duergar palace more intimately than I did, but I had an idea I thought he would approve of. “We can go as soon as you dismiss us.”
He gave a quick nod and then began loosening the drawstring of the velvet bag he held.
“You must get safely into the palace on your own,” he said, reaching in the bag. “But I can help you get back out.”
He extended his palm toward me. In it was a tiny velvet packet, a little envelope made of fabric.
“It’s a portal jewel that will bring you back to the Summerlands,” he said. “But I can spare only one, so the three of you need to stay together if at all possible.”
Then he told me the words to whisper that would unlock a doorway when I tossed the jewel in the air. He made me repeat them twice to ensure I had them memorized correctly.
I held the packet with both hands, feeling the little round lump of the jewel inside. Portal jewels were incredibly rare, powerful, and valuable. Jasper had used one to bring the two of us to the Summerlands after Maxen helped me escape the stone fortress jail.
Oberon turned to Jasper. “I also have something for you.”
The High King reached for a knife sheath on his belt and unsnapped the flap. With even more care than he’d used to handle the portal jewel, he withdrew a dagger. It was designed as a simple fighting knife with a slim seven-and-a-half inch blade and a low-profile handle. But it was the pale yellow color of butter and seemed to glow from within. Something about it tickled at my memory.
“Gae Buide,” Jasper said, his voice low and thick with his Scottish brogue.
“I hereby pass Gae Buide to you, Jasper Glasgow,” Oberon said. Magic glittered around the knife as Oberon turned the blade around to pass Jasper the handle. The magic dispersed as soon as Jasper took it. “Take care not to accidentally nick anyone you don’t intend to kill.”
Then I remembered. Gae Buide inflicted mortal wounds. Even a small cut would cause rapid death within seconds, and it was said there was no magic that could stop it. It acted like the deadliest poison, but the lethal quality was in the blade itself, and there was no need for the application of any toxin. The knife was now bonded to Jasper, until he decided to pass it sot someone else.
