by Jayne Faith
My chest heaving, I whirled Aurora and looked around at the rest of them, meeting each of their eyes.
“Anyone else?” I asked, my voice cold steel.
Hearing Raleigh’s cries, a crowd had gathered at the mouth of the foyer. The room was silent except for the big man’s grunts of pain and outrage.
Some of his people dropped their weapons, the metal clanging and clattering on the tiles, and held up their hands in surrender.
“The proper etiquette would be to drop to one knee,” came Maxen’s flat voice from behind me.
I knew he was unarmed, and yet he’d stood there just feet away from me while two dozen of our people had threatened me with swords. Ballsy. But then, he wasn’t the one they wanted to kill.
Most of the crowd that’d come with Raleigh followed Maxen’s suggestion, kneeling and dropping their heads, some of them begging forgiveness. But four of them remained standing, though they did sheath their weapons.
Adrenaline still coursed through me, but I surveyed them coolly as I slid Aurora into the scabbard on my back.
I wanted to tell them that I didn’t ask for this. I never wanted to kill Marisol. But she’d sent an assassin after me, leaving me little choice. I didn’t want to be Queen. I didn’t want to be standing there next to an arm I’d severed with my own sword as I tried to defend a throne I had no desire to occupy.
But I couldn’t say any of it. They weren’t words a monarch had the right to utter in public.
Instead, I raised my chin and surveyed the crowd. Except for Raleigh’s moans, it was so quiet I could hear my own heart beating in my ears.
“Maybe some of you hadn’t yet heard,” I said, my voice carrying through the large room. “But the High King Oberon granted us kingdomhood. We are now the Carraig Sidhe. I am the queen of this realm, by the High King’s decree.”
I let my gaze slowly sweep across the people gathered.
“I do not seek your permission to take the throne. It is already mine. If any Carraig Sidhe draws a weapon in my presence without permission again, that person will be punished to the full extent our law allows. Your job now is to get our home in order. Go do it. That’s an order from your queen.”
I hated that I sounded like such a hardass. The entire speech made me cringe inside. But it worked. Everyone began to move away. A couple of Raleigh’s people came forward to help him to his feet. He was breathing raggedly, his eyes pinched closed.
“Well done,” Maxen said softly as we watched them depart. “You should have had him and all his followers executed, though.”
I shook my head. “There’s been enough death and bloodshed for one day.”
I didn’t say it, but I couldn’t have rounded up all of them anyway. Not singlehandedly. There were too many, and I didn’t have a security force of my own. Perhaps I could have tried to order others to do it for me, but I couldn’t yet trust who would or wouldn’t follow my command.
Suddenly, I was acutely aware of being in a building occupied by hundreds of armed Carraig Sidhe. If some of them decided to, they could gang up on me and kill me.
“Queen Petra?”
I nearly jumped out of my skin when I realized I hadn’t heard someone approach me and Maxen. Stupid.
Turning, I came face to face with Emmaline’s violet gaze. She’d served as my squire when I’d been named Champion. She was still a student fighter in training with dreams of someday wielding a spellblade like Mort, the broadsword I’d lost in the Giants’ Causeway. She’d been a loyal friend, before. Now, she looked troubled. At least she wasn’t threatening me, her sword stowed away in her own back scabbard, an almost identical model to mine, I absently noticed.
“Emmaline.” My tone was wary.
She crossed one ankle behind the other and dipped into a low, slow curtsy. When she straightened, she leveled her chin.
“I want to offer you my services, Your Majesty,” she said, loud enough for anyone within twenty feet to hear.
I pressed my lips into a hard line to still a slight tremble.
“You do?” was all I could manage.
She nodded solemnly. “I do.”
“That is a risky thing for a person to do these days. You may have noticed I’m not winning any popularity contests around here.”
Her face took on a look of teenage defiance. “I don’t care about the risks. I want to serve you.”
I cocked my head. “And what do your parents say about this?” I asked quietly.
“I’m eighteen, Queen Petra. I can make my own decisions.” She also lowered her voice.
I inhaled slowly through my nose, as if considering her proposition, when really I was trying to quell the emotions threatening to rise up. No one, not Maxen, not any of my former classmates, not my old teachers, no one had offered me their loyalty the way Emmaline had just done. And we both knew she did it at the risk of her own life. Maeve help me if anyone harmed a hair on her head.
I gave a tight smile of approval. “Your offer of service is appreciated. Are there others who might be of your same mind?” I asked, my words soft. I had to be cautious.
She skirted a glance around and gave me the slightest of nods. We needed privacy for this conversation. But I also needed to stay visible. It wouldn’t do for me to retreat into quarters somewhere, even for important business.
“Later,” I said. “After we’ve gotten things cleaned up a bit.”
All of us Carraig Sidhe began the process of clearing the wreckage and scrubbing away the blood. I worked along with the others, conferring with Maxen occasionally to make sure we were doing what we could to keep the fortress secure. Shane had taken charge of those duties, along with a couple dozen others who pitched in to help. Though he gave me the deference due to a monarch, he seemed more comfortable speaking with Maxen and taking orders from him. I hated the awkwardness that seemed to have sprung up between me and people I’d known my whole life.
Smells of cooking meat and roasting vegetables began wafting through the corridors, indicating the kitchens were back up and running. The prospect of a hot meal seemed to lift everyone’s spirits, and there were more and more quiet conversations springing up around us.
As late evening came on, I knew I had to stop and eat, or I’d risk falling on my face from lack of calories. I chewed my bottom lip. Could I trust the food that came from the kitchens? Or would my detractors try to poison me?
Maxen caught my eye. “Dine with me in my quarters,” he said loudly. “I will have food sent there.”
I wasn’t sure how he’d read my mind, but I was grateful. Regardless of how the Carraig felt about me, it was safe to assume their love for Maxen was almost universal. It always had been, and it was well-deserved. He’d been a servant of the New Gargs practically since he was born, but in contrast with his mother, he’d never displayed even a hint of a need for power. He was one of the more affable New Gargs in the fortress, with an easy smile and a deeply likeable disposition. Not only that, he was an extremely skilled diplomat. No one would try to assassinate him. If anything, my enemies would hope to eliminate me and put him on the throne.
I found Emmaline nearby and told her to join us. Twenty minutes later, Maxen, Emmaline, and I sat in the dining room of Maxen’s quarters. The hole where I’d blasted Eldon through the wall had already been plastered over and had boards nailed across the inside. We were a few rooms away from the damage.
Two linen-covered food carts had arrived, and the three of us had steaming plates of food in front of us. But none of us had started eating.
“Maxen—” I started.
He held out a palm. “I need to explain something to you.”
He lowered his hand. I waited while he looked at a spot on the floor, seeming to collect himself.
“I can give you privacy, if you’d prefer,” Emmaline said, starting to get up.
“No, stay,” Maxen said. Emmaline sat. He lifted his gaze to meet mine, and his sapphire blue eyes looked so pained I thought my heart might crack.
“You killed my mother. I hated her for trying to kill Nicole and my unborn child, but still. She was my mother, and she was my only family. Now that she’s gone, I care about two things: my future family and my people. I will support you publicly as Queen because I don’t want the New Gargs—the Carraig Sidhe—to implode. The last thing we need is a civil war. I can honor the part of my mother that I loved, the work she did that I believed in, by doing my best to hold us together. But that’s all I can offer you right now.”
I let a few seconds of silence pass before I spoke.
“Do you want the throne?” I asked.
“It doesn’t matter. Oberon made you Queen.”
“I know, but if he hadn’t . . .”
His jaw muscles worked for a moment. “I always believed I would be my mother’s successor.” His voice was low and ragged, and he seemed tormented.
It wasn’t really an answer, but I backed off. Perhaps he was right. Maybe his desire didn’t matter.
He gestured to our cooling plates. “Let’s eat. Then we’ll talk about building support for the throne.”
It wasn’t lost on me that he said “for the throne,” not “for you.” He also hadn’t counted Marisol’s attempt on my life as a reason he hated his mother—he’d only spoken of Nicole and their unborn child. I chewed mechanically, barely tasting the food, feeling the awful weight of Maxen’s resentment settling across my shoulders. Our relationship would never be the same, it seemed. Could I blame him? No, not really. But it still hurt with a pain so poignant I couldn’t take a full breath.
I sat there, quietly eating and mulling things over, and my sadness and guilt began to loosen a little, giving away to something else. I looked up at Maxen, and I realized something. There were words I couldn’t say in public, but I could say them to him. And I needed to. He needed to acknowledge a few things.
“Nicole is alive because of me,” I said.
He slowly lowered his fork to his plate, swallowed, and looked up at me. His eyes were pinched, and he looked ready to lash out. I started talking again before he could.
“Your mother sent an assassin after me, and I escaped only by the grace of the gods,” I said, my tone becoming heated. I didn’t try to temper it. “If I hadn’t, Nicole would be dead right now. Your unborn child would be dead right now. I didn’t want to kill Marisol, but even before Periclase used Eldon to force me to do it, I knew it had to be done. She never, ever would have let us live. All Marisol Lothlorien cared about was becoming Queen of the New Gargoyle kingdom, and she truly believed Nicole and I had to die in order for that to happen. She didn’t give two shits about your happiness either, Maxen. She was ready to murder the love of your life, murder her grandchild, in the name of her obsession. Nicole wasn’t what she wanted for you, for the future heir of the New Garg throne. So, yeah. Your mother is gone, and it really is too bad it had to come to that. But she is the one who set all of this in motion.”
By the time I paused for a breath, I’d raised my voice loud enough that the second of silence seemed to ring out in the room. I’d placed my hands on the table palms-down, pressing hard to try to still their shaking.
I forced my voice back to a reasonable volume. “You tell me now, Maxen Lothlorien, who would you rather have living? Marisol or Nicole and your child? Because there was never any way you were going to get both, and you know it. Your mother ensured that.”
My chest was heaving with ragged breaths. Maxen just sat there staring bloody murder at me.
I raised my hands and slammed them down on the linen tablecloth. “Answer me!” I yelled as the dishes and flatware rattled back to their places.
His lips were pressed together and quivering with anger, agitated red splotches blooming on his cheeks. For a long moment, I thought he might reach across the table and punch me in the face. But instead he looked down at his lap, closed his eyes, and took a long inhale through his parted lips.
“Nicole and my child,” he whispered. “And I realized I could have lost them as well.”
I moved my hands to my thighs, pushing them forward and back across the fabric of my pants, and tried to focus on calming my racing pulse.
“You know what else I didn’t want?” I asked. “The godsdamned throne. I didn’t want to have to cut off a man’s hand in the name of a crown I never wanted in the first place.”
“I know.”
We locked gazes, and I felt a shift between us, an acknowledgement. It wasn’t friendship, and it certainly wasn’t warmth, but it brought a small measure of relief.
“Good,” I said quietly.
I looked over at Emmaline. She’d pulled back in her chair, as if leaning out of the way of the volley of words between me and Maxen, her violet eyes wide and unblinking.
“I’m sorry you had to be here for that,” I said to her.
She looked at me, blinked a couple of times, and then drew a quiet breath. Her lower lip trembled the slightest bit before she was able to control it. “I’m sorry both of you have had to bear so much pain.”
That caught me off guard. Maxen, too, apparently, as I saw his eyes before he quickly slanted his gaze down at an angle, trying to hide his emotions.
“It’s been a painful time in the fortress in general,” I said. “I think it’s time we started making things better for all Carraig, to the extent we can.”
It wasn’t phrased as a question, but I waited for Maxen’s slight nod before continuing.
“To that end, who else might the throne be able to count on?” I asked Emmaline.
“I think I’ve almost got Shane convinced he should follow you,” she said. Her composed expression was a bit too forced.
My eyes narrowed slightly as something pinged in my memory. Oh, yes. Emmaline had a bit of a crush on Shane, who was one of her instructors in addition to being an officer in the battle ranks.
I arched a brow at her. “Soo . . . you and Shane, huh?”
“What? No, no. I mean, uh, that’s not—all I mean is that he’d be a good ally, and I think he’s almost on your side.”
A tiny smile touched my lips, and I saw the amusement in Maxen’s eyes, too.
“Okay, who else?” I asked.
“Most everyone in my class is with you, Petr—ah, Your Majesty,” Emmaline said. “They were big admirers of yours before all this.”
Great. A bunch of kids and maybe a young officer on my side.
I nodded. “All right. What about the students’ parents? Or anyone else?” I shot Maxen a pleading look. He’d claimed to want to strengthen the position of the throne in the name of stabilizing things in our baby kingdom. Now would be a good time to speak up.
“Wait,” Emmaline said, leaning forward. “If we can get Shane, that’s key. Really key.”
I tilted my head. “How so?”
Her tongue flicked over her lower lip, and she skirted a glance at Maxen before meeting my gaze again. “Because. Those guys who were with Raleigh? Several of them were high-ranking officers. I’m assuming, that, uh—” Again she cast a look at Maxen.
“It’s okay,” he said. “You can say it.”
“Well, if you imprison those people, you’re basically taking the old guard out of the battle ranks’ officer corp,” she said.
My brows shot up. Why hadn’t I thought of this? I pointed at her. “Ah. Good thinking. If they’re stripped of their positions, that leaves Shane as one of the only officers.”
“Yeah.” Emmaline was nodding. “And if you promote some of the younger men and women, you can pick and choose the ones who support you.”
I winced. “That seems phony, like—I don’t know, not nepotism, exactly, but . . .” I trailed off.
“It’s not,” Maxen said. “It’s politics. It’s what a smart leader has to do. What good would it be to have a military led by dissenters? It would just further destabilize the realm.”
The realm. I was in charge of a realm.
“So, you agree with what Emmaline’s saying?”
“No quest
ion. All of your appointees need to be supporters. No one would expect you to do any different because it would be dangerous, stupid even. You can’t put anyone who’s disgruntled in a position of power.”
I reached for my water tumbler. “Well, when you put it that way . . .” I took a slow drink, considering, and then set my cup down. “My biggest problem is finding enough supporters.”
Maxen tipped his head in agreement. “That’s your initial challenge, but once you have enough good people instated and day-to-day affairs of the fortress start running smoothly again, a majority will accept you as their ruler.”
“It’s that minority I’m going to have to figure out how to deal with.”
“Yep.”
“Any ideas?” I asked him.
“First, let’s figure out who we can get on board. The sooner we have positions filled, the sooner things will start to settle.”
I chewed my bottom lip for a moment, suddenly thinking of the battles being waged elsewhere. “Oberon grant us time enough to do that,” I said soberly.
“Let’s sleep on it and reconvene first thing,” Maxen said. He looked at Emmaline. “You, too. We need to start a list of potential supporters.”
We spoke for a few more minutes about the work ahead of us. Then I walked Emmaline to the apartment where she still lived with her parents. Then I went alone to my old, tiny apartment. I wasn’t about to take over Marisol’s quarters, even if it would have sent the right message to do so.
I barred the entrance to my quarters using an old practice sword wedged in between the edge of the door and the frame, went into my bedroom and locked that door, and lay down with Aurora beside me on the bed.
Staring into the dark, I considered all that had transpired and tried to work out how best to proceed with the royal appointments, the military, the dissenters, and about a dozen other equally grave areas that would need immediate attention.
The fact was, I couldn’t be sure we’d even have the chance to get our little kingdom in order. The Summerlands was burning. Finvarra was still out there with the Stone of Fal. And the Tuatha were biding their time.
But I had to make at least some progress toward the Carraig Sidhe kingdom on its feet. My people needed me more than ever. I just hoped I could somehow summon the wisdom and strength I’d need to do right by them. At the same time, Eldon’s words rang in my ears. Jasper was going to need me, too, when the time came to go after Finvarra again.
