The Changeling

by Jennifer Lyndon

  “What do you mean?” M’Tek asked, sounding nervous. “What do you know?”

  “And Pet hates living in Vilkerland. It’s cold for her, and she doesn’t like speaking Vilken, and the manners of the people put her off, but she came to help me, a stranger, simply because you asked,” I added. “She has spent the past four years of her life surrounded by Vilkerlings just because you asked it of her.”

  “It was her duty to Faeland,” M’Tek said. “But what did you mean before?”

  “No. It was her love of a somewhat difficult and demanding cousin,” I corrected, refusing to be derailed.

  “I’m not difficult, or demanding,” M’Tek argued, appearing offended. “And I’m not manipulative. I always give in to you.”

  “Not always,” I replied firmly, cutting my eyes from hers. She knew I was referring to the subject of children, something we hadn’t discussed since the morning after my coronation.

  “I give in when I can, Lore,” she corrected. “There are things you should never ask of me,” she added, her tone a warning. “Please, don’t make me think of that tonight. I can’t bear the thought.”

  “All right,” I said, trying to placate her. “Sometimes you’re hard on Shiroane, though, and you’ve been punishing Pet for months, over nothing.”

  “I tracked Ballick for Shiroane,” she said, her tone defensive.

  “I know, and that was good of you,” I said. “Of course, she only lost him in the first place because she was trying to save your life.”

  “I also raised her to the rank of Baroness,” she added. “Should I have given her an estate? I have a beautiful cloudberry vineyard in the south I could offer her. Do you think that would be enough?”

  “Did you ever think of just telling Shiroane how much you appreciate her?” I asked.

  That little crease formed between M’Tek’s dark eyebrows, as if she was becoming frustrated with me. The last thing I wanted to do was actually upset her. I took her hand and lifted it to my lips, biting one of her knuckles softly. Her faint scowl disappeared as her eyes focused on my mouth. I stepped close to her and kissed her softly.

  “Come, let’s get the evening started,” I said, leading her out to the center of the ballroom so we could dance.

  -CH 17-

  Over the next few months M’Tek and I worked relentlessly trying to settle the political ripples reverberating around us. The Noge wanted attention, and so we travelled through Nogeland to check on the early progress of the palace at Sweet Lake. At that time I held an informal ceremony to crown M’Tek my Queen, and informed my council of the several changes M’Tek insisted on for the final structure of our palace. My council in turn informed me that the palace, and the town surrounding it, had already been dubbed Saranedam. I was expected to take this as a great compliment. Forcing myself to smile at the news, I managed an adequate impression of being pleased.

  From there we travelled down to Vilkerdam to try to ease the tension and workload accumulating there. I was beginning to believe maybe it was impossible for one person to keep three different populations satisfied. The Vilkerlings had received the least attention from me over the previous year, and suffered the most anxiety, due to my sudden disappearance, and the aggressive actions taken by their neighbors as a result. My sense of guilt, over putting my own needs and desires over those of my people, was heavily woven through my interactions with both my Vilken council, and the nobility I entertained at the palace.

  While I was in residence at Vilkerdam Palace, I made a concerted effort to mix with my Vilken nobles, and show them I was still their Vilken Queen, the same one they supported only a few years earlier. I needed to prove to them that I still loved them, and went to great lengths in my efforts convincing them, giving away parcels of land and hosting parties nearly every evening. Dining with my old friends and supporters went well, as long as M’Tek kept out of sight, and no mention was made of her. The pretense troubled me, but I didn’t have time to confront it, because my workload was truly enormous. Without M’Tek shouldering at least half of my burden I would never have waded through it all. M’Tek and I spent every free moment reading through documents, reviewing the actions made by my council in my absence, and correcting missteps whenever possible.

  A few months into my residency at Vilkerdam, I invited the entire Vilken nobility to the palace for a feast followed by a masked ball, in celebration of the summer solstice. Thankfully, I had Pet with me to organize the event. As reward for her help, I made a point of requesting a very colorful bonfire. Pet was ecstatic over the decorations for the party.

  M’Tek took the masquerade theme to heart, dressing as a young Vilken nobleman, with an elaborate mask that obscured her Fae eyes. She cut away what remained of her white hair, and even added curls to her dark hair, making her appear the proper young Vilken lord.

  Pet managed to provide me with a dress that was miraculously both Vilken in style, and somewhat attractive. Happily, experiences among the Fae were having a positive effect on Vilken clothing trends. That staple of Vilken fashion known as stays, was finally becoming obsolete, due to the influence of some of the young nobles who had spent the previous season in Faeland as my guests. Those women had become accustomed to the comfort of Fae fashion. As a result, for the first time at a Vilken social event, I could actually take a deep breath without injuring a rib.

  For me, the masks were the true inconvenience of the evening. While wearing a mask, I was at an absolute disadvantage among my Vilken subjects, since I was the only one with light hair and blue eyes. M’Tek fared far better, becoming one with my guests both visually, and in manner, by obscuring her Fae accent, and adopting Vilken mannerisms. While I would have preferred to actually see the faces of my guests, Pet had insisted that the mask held strong roots in Vilken tradition, and might actually encourage them to dance. I gave in, as usual, to Pet. I had to admit, my guests seemed to truly enjoy the drama of hiding their faces. Their manners were freer as a result.

  Several of my guests spoke more frankly about their disapproval of my choice of consort. One particularly vocal woman even pointed out that I’d denied my country a proper joining ceremony since our ritual took place in Faeland. When I tried to explain that my true binding with M’Tek had been preformed weeks earlier in Vilkerland, but at a time when she appeared to be dying, the old woman seemed mollified by this information. Soon, the tale was circulating through the ballroom that my joining with the Fae Queen had actually been a failed attempt to win Faeland for the Vilkerlings without going to war. The story quickly spread throughout the party, pleasing my guests enormously, and making me miserable.

  About halfway through the evening, M’Tek, who had been away from my side for most of the party, mingling and dancing with Vilkerlings in a way she’d never been willing to do in the past, appeared next to me. She wrapped an arm across my shoulders and guided me out of the ballroom, down the hallway, and into the garden.

  “That’s about as much Vilken admiration as I can take,” she whispered in Noge, her arm across my back. “Pet was right about the masks. Vilkerlings are certainly freer with their hands when their faces are covered.”

  “I’m so sorry,” I whispered.

  “For what?” she asked, smiling that naughty smile. “Oh, I see, you’re afraid I’ve learned you only joined with me because I was dying,” she said. “I don’t mind. And it was a brilliant strategy,” she added. “Except that you were already the Prime of Faeland, so my country was yours either way, as I long as I fulfilled my promise and actually died,” she observed. “Which leads to that massive blunder you made when you saved my life. You weakened your position irrevocably with that move. Since I’m Lemu, I may never die now.” She shook her head. “But even the best laid plans can go off course I guess, if you lose focus,” she teased.

  “It’s not funny. Everyone is saying it,” I whispered. “It’s my fault too, for telling that old gossip that you were sick when we performed our binding rites.”

  “Do
n’t worry on my account, my love,” she assured me, unfastening her mask and removing it. “I hate to admit it, but I might have been the one really spreading the story around the room. I must have told thirty people. They especially liked it when I pointed out that you’re equal to me in Faeland, whereas I’m only your consort in Vilkerland. It seemed to prove your more honorable intentions of attempting to seize power through seduction. Some were actually afraid you might have fallen in love with me. Don’t worry. I set their minds at ease.”

  “M’Tek!” I said, shoving her away from me. “You’re terrible!”

  “Come on, Lore. You think it’s a little funny, don’t you?” she asked. I liked the way the moonlight danced in her beautiful silver eyes.

  “Maybe,” I conceded, allowing her to wrap her arm across my shoulders again.

  “I admit it was fun, imitating the Vilken manners and accent, and somehow getting away with it, but that’s not why I did it. I was gauging my own popularity among them, and its effect on yours. These people will never love, or even like me,” she said. “I don’t blame them for mistrusting me. I feel no love for them. I’m a heavy burden to you in Vilkerland. Honestly, I’m surprised you’ve managed to hold onto this country after joining with me. Many of your most powerful subjects actually believe I’ve killed members of their families.”

  “Probably because you have,” I acknowledged.

  “Even I can’t kill that many people,” she replied under her breath. “I’m getting credit for a hundred times the number of lives I might have taken over the past two and half centuries. You wouldn’t believe the estimates I heard tonight.”

  “So, you think the Vilken people see me as a ruthless, devious, monster, who’ll crawl into bed with a mortal enemy to seize more power?” I asked.

  “I doubt they see you as a monster, my love, more of a Vilken coywolf,” she observed, smiling, and apparently pleased with her description. “You symbolize their national identity, whereas I’m a murderous inhuman beast that devours their young.”

  “We’re both predators by your description,” I replied.

  “Yes, but they love you,” she whispered. “And that makes all the difference.”

  “You know I don’t enjoy thinking along these cynical lines,” I said. Her arm tightened across my back, and I relaxed my head down against her shoulder.

  “It’s not cynicism,” she replied. “Power is usually dark. Your rise has been far cleaner than most,” she added. “The ugliest battles over power are usually fought within the royal family. You had no family, beyond your false uncle, and so were basically spared that.”

  “Your family died of the Diminishing Sickness, didn’t they?” I asked, realizing she was saying something important.

  “Some did,” she replied.

  “Which ones did not?” I asked, careful to keep my voice neutral so she wouldn’t become defensive.

  “You’ve read the history, right?” she asked.

  “I have,” I acknowledged. “You were the youngest of five offspring born over a span of more than two centuries,” I added. “Your parents had a son and then a daughter, followed by twin boys, and finally, over a hundred years later, you,” I summarized. “The cause of death for your sister and the twins was not mentioned. Rad’Ik fell in battle. Your father died nine months after Rad’Ik, and your mother the following year. I assumed everyone but Rad’Ik died of the plague.”

  “My older sister, F’Tina, died in childbirth with her second child,” she explained. “It was a breach birth from which her body was unable to heal. Pet is the last descendant of her only surviving son. Strictly speaking, Pet’s not my cousin, but a distant niece.”

  “So you had three brothers remaining,” I said.

  “B’Rek, one of the twins, was a revered general. Some say he was the most brilliant general Faeland ever produced. Rad’Ik invited B’Rek to his tent one night to discuss strategy. The following day B’Rek fell from his horse before the battle commenced. Some witnesses claimed his neck broke from the fall, others said B’Rek had been poisoned,” she informed me in a dispassionate tone.

  “So, that leaves Rad’Ik, and the other twin,” I said. “His name was B’Rax, right?” M’Tek nodded.

  “B’Rax was said to be so distraught over the death of his twin brother, that he threw himself from the cliffs into the Luminous Gulf.”

  “How tragic,” I whispered.

  “And completely untrue. His body was found about a month later, wrapped in his bed linens, and hidden in the tunnel running between his room and Rad’Ik’s, along the south wall of the palace. He had been strangled. My parents interred him quietly, never correcting the mistaken assumption that he took his own life.”

  “How did Rad’Ik die?” I asked.

  “It was said he fell in battle,” M’Tek observed. “You’ve read the history.”

  “But the books were wrong about B’Rax,” I replied. “Were you there? Is that how Rad’Ik died?” She shook her head.

  “It’s an ugly story,” she said.

  “Do you want to tell me?” I asked.

  “No,” she said. “I don’t.”

  “All right,” I replied. “It’s your tale to tell or keep.”

  M’Tek sighed, and then reached over to untie my mask, removing it from my face. “I’ll tell you, but not with your face hidden from me,” she said.

  “Did Rad’Ik kill the twins?” I asked, wanting to get at the truth.

  “Of course he did. My father never really approved of Rad’Ik. He was therefore unlikely to succeed him on the throne. And the twins were both so beautiful, and brilliant. B’Rax was the most likely to become king at some point. He was already sitting on father’s council, and he was Prime. He’d been political since he was fourteen, challenging Old Fae slave laws, and finally gaining the support to abolish slavery in Faeland. Even B’Rek had an advantage over Rad’Ik. He was far more loved by the Fae people, and more successful in battle. Rad’Ik knew he had to remove them if he ever hoped to rise to power.”

  “Did Rad’Ik see you as a threat?” I asked.

  “At first I doubt he noticed me at all,” she replied. “He never acknowledged me until my father took an interest,” she explained. “I’d not been back from Nogeland long, and I was heartbroken over Sarane’s death, and angry with the Vilken people. I wanted someone to pay for my suffering. I’d studied and trained at Sarane’s side in combat arts, in Nogeland, so I was already highly skilled as a strategist, and a warrior. Somehow I convinced my father that my knowledge of enemy tactics made me more valuable as a military commander than as a mate to one of his political opponents. To my mother’s horror, instead of arranging my joining, he gave me a commission in the military.”

  “And you began to earn a reputation,” I observed.

  “Exactly,” she agreed. “Rad’Ik noticed my increasing popularity. I quickly became a heroic figure to the Fae people. There’s even a bedtime song entitled, Gory Princess in the Night. It’s about me, of course, protecting the good little Fae children, from those nasty Vilken hordes,” M’Tek said, turning to raise an eyebrow at that. “It’s a clumsy little song, but memorable.”

  “Will you sing it for me?” I asked, suddenly curious. M’Tek offered a wry smile before singing the first part of the song in a clear high voice;

  Lovely Princess of Fae, all covered in gore

  End of the day, behind your chamber door

  Leading Faeland’s great might, dripping with blood

  She withstands the fight, braves the Vilken flood

  Through darkness of night, sweet children dream light

  Free of fright, tucked safe in bed sleeping tight

  “A short but violent song,” I observed after she’d finished.

  “That’s only the first part of it, Lore. It actually goes on in that vein for quite a while, extolling my great talent for tearing out throats, and hacking off limbs, all in an effort to comfort little children, so they’ll feel safe sleeping through the
night. I wonder how many Fae children had nightmares about me hiding behind their door with blood dripping from my sword,” she mused. “It’s truly awful.”

  “I agree. It’s a hideous song. All right, so Rad’Ik noticed you,” I observed, bringing her back on topic. “Then what?”

  “He wanted me close. He raised me to the rank of general really quickly, and had me fighting alongside him. My style was very different from his, though, and I usually garnered better results. I’m not certain whether he viewed me as a threat or an opportunity,” she said looking away from me, back to the lights of the masquerade. “The result was equally dangerous.”

  “Why?” I asked, wanting her to continue. She sighed.

  “All right,” she said, seeming to collect herself beside me, her arm dropping from my shoulder. “One evening, he invited me to his tent to discuss strategy. I found it odd, since the battle we would be fighting the following morning required no real strategy. We outnumbered the Vilkerlings three to one. Still, I’d been summoned, so I appeared,” M’Tek said softly. She took a deep breath before continuing. “There were candles lit, and a beautiful meal had been prepared. After I crossed into the tent, music began playing from outside.”

  “And this was strange?” I asked.

  “Would such a scene have been strange in your camp on the eve of battle?” she asked.

  “Of course,” I acknowledged.

  “It was exceedingly strange. We ate rough when we were at war, and here was an elaborately prepared meal laid out for me. And to hire musicians to play was just inexplicable,” she added. “Still, I sat to eat with him, the candles aflame around us. He began by telling me I was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. I remember finding the compliment hard to accept, since I was dressed in the same rough manner as the other soldiers, my hair braided and stitched tightly against my scalp to keep it out of the way in battle. He went on to explain that he’d never known me as his sister, but only as a desirable woman. By the fourth glass of torppa, he’d proposed that we join, and have children of pure Tannuk blood for the Fae people. I was horrified by the suggestion, but I sensed that reacting honestly would be dangerous. I focused to remain unemotional, as he began explaining the particulars of his growing obsession with me.