Leave it to Fate

by Keri Armstrong

  “I was wondering,” Kemire said smoothly, “if you had taken a mate in the human realm?”

  Grainne laughed and answered before I could speak. “Oh, of course not. I made sure of that.”

  What the heck?

  “How?” I asked, seriously disturbed.

  “I bespelled you to keep humans from becoming too attached to you, or you to them.”

  In an instant, all the rejections of my life flashed through my memory in a painful reel, and I slumped against the chair.

  “Why would you do that?” I railed.

  “You had to return here one day, so I couldn’t just leave it up to fate, now could I?” She sounded shocked I had even asked.

  Puck’s cynical laughter cut through my astonishment, which was quickly turning to fury. “It’s par for the course, Princess Meghan. Our queen has a long history of playing with hearts, don’t you, Your Highness?”

  Grainne laughed. “Still bitter are you, Prince Jiarmand?”

  Prince Jiarmand? He caught my surprise and laughed harshly. “How could I not be, Queen Grainne? I’m still waiting for you to fulfill your promise.”

  “Promise?” I asked.

  The whole room seemed to be anxiously awaiting the answer with me, except for Twist and Anweena, who only seemed mildly curious.

  “Your mother took my heart and promised to only give it back once I’d made certain you were safely returned to her at the appropriate time.”

  Twist laughed and Anweena’s eyes narrowed. “This was before the incident with your brother?” she asked.

  Puck sharply nodded, once, and Anweena answered with a slow nod of her own.

  My head shook in confusion. “How did the queen take your heart, and what happened with your brother? And you’re a prince?” The questions all tumbled out in the jumble they’d been in my head.

  Kemire and the queen laughed.

  “He almost killed his brother so he could become the heir to the Mabrea Seelie province.”

  Puck jumped from his seat. “That’s a lie!”

  “Your Majesty, end this travesty right now and let me take him to justice,” Kemire yelled.

  The laughter in Grainne’s eyes turned to rage. “You dared give me an order, Lord Kemire?”

  He gulped, his face mottled red with anger and white with fear. He pointed at Puck. “He is a criminal!”

  The room temperature dropped so low, glasses tinkled, and hot dishes cracked as fronds of lacey frost crept over them.

  Anweena’s hand crept toward Grainne but stopped before touching her.

  The queen’s head tilted unnaturally on her neck, the tension in her bones popping loudly in the room. “My sister reminds me you are a guest here, Kemire. As such, I will kindly grant you a boon. You may leave now with your life and no further punishment since you did bring Jiarmand to me.” She narrowed her deadly gaze on his face. “Though you failed to bring Meghan with him.”

  “But she—” he wisely cut off whatever protest he’d been about to make. He stood and bowed deeply. “I am honored to have been in your presence, Your Majesty. With your kind permission, I take my leave now.”

  She waved him off and from the corner of my eye, I caught the glare that she didn’t see as he left. Twist, however, started to giggle and Anweena gave him a warning glance.

  “Meghan, my love, do try the wine. It will do wonders for your down expression,” Grainne suggested mildly before turning her attention to Puck, as if nothing had happened.

  “You know Jiarmand, I much preferred your autumn locks to this icy look you have now.” She fluttered fingers toward his hair, then looked at the frosty table. “Ah, see how I was distracted,” she said absently. She snapped her fingers and the room returned to a normal temperature.

  I was getting mental whiplash from all her mood swings—and the fact that she’d just said that Puck used to have red hair—when she patted my fingers. “I suddenly find myself ready to rest after all the excitement today. As my gift to you, I give you the prisoner, Prince Jiarmand, to do with as you see fit. Kiss or kill him, it makes no difference to me. Send him to the dungeons for not taking better care of you, or have me return his heart. What would you like?”

  “Prisoner?”

  “Very well. Guards, send him to the dungeons!”

  “No, wait, that’s not what I meant!” I yelled over the shuffling of armor.

  “Be clear then, child. I tire of this subject,” she said irritably.

  “I was just clarifying whether Puck—I mean, Prince Jiarmand—is a prisoner or a guest.”

  She gave a bored shrug. “That’s your decision now. I left him to you.”

  I had avoided looking at Puck throughout the conversation, and he’d been uncharacteristically quiet. I glanced in his direction. His face was tight, paler than usual, and his nostrils flared. Panic, fear, and hope all warred within his eyes.

  “I would like to speak privately with the prisoner before I decide.”

  “As you wish,” she said. “I’ll send guards with you to enforce whichever decision you make.”

  “Thank you,” I whispered.

  “Never thank anyone again,” Grainne said flatly, then motioned for Anweena to accompany her out of the room.

  Alone at the table, Twist stood awkwardly. “I’ll just be in my workshop, if anyone needs me.”

  “Maybe you should go to bed,” I suggested, feeling guilty.

  “I will in a bit.” He grinned and waved. “You two have fun.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  “S

  o, it seems we’ve both been disappointed,” Puck said, taking a seat on the bench where Grainne and I had sat earlier.

  The garden was still in bloom, warm and sweet smelling in the night. White blossoms gleamed under the moonlight, and luminescent vines lit the paths, allowing me to see his wry expression.

  “What do you need to make your decision, Princess?” he asked.

  “Don’t call me that, Prince Jiarmand. Or is it Nonagon? It certainly isn’t ‘Puck’ now, is it?”

  “Only for you, if you wish. I’ve rather enjoyed your cute naming of me and would like to keep it.”

  “Nonagon it is then.”

  He laughed. “Why that one? I’ve had many aliases over the years. Shouldn’t you hear the rest before deciding?”

  “‘Irritating Jerk’ is moving quickly into first place.”

  “Ah, well, I don’t believe that was one.”

  “Arrogant Ass?”

  “I was actually referring to the names I had given myself. Not those monikers gifted by others.”

  I gave up and sank on the bench beside him, ready for serious answers, but without much hope that he’d give any. And I wasn’t sure where to start.

  “Why all the name changes, anyway?”

  “Fae change names, periodically. When you live as long as we do, it can be a way of starting over after the Cauldron of Rebirth, or an announcement of a lifestyle change. Sometimes a way of hiding, as in my case.”

  “What were you hiding from? Why do they say you are a criminal, and what happened with your brother? And why on earth did you agree to Grainne’s request?”

  He chuckled softly, but the sound was without humor. “Which of those would you like me to answer first?” Before giving me a chance to reply, he said, “I’ll start with the last question, since it set the course for the rest.”

  I nodded, and he proceeded to tell me what I already knew about my mother’s proposition and his refusal to be her lover. He’d only been in the area by coincidence when I was born, and she had come to him, frightened. While they hadn’t been lovers, he’d considered them to at least be friends of a sort.

  “Grainne, for perhaps good reason, I’ll admit, didn’t have full faith in my ability to be responsible. Plus, she also saw an opportunity to make me suffer for rejecting her.” His laughter held more humor. “Well-played on her part, though I’m loathe to admit it.

  “If you could have known her before her re
cent decline, you would understand that it is very difficult to deny Grainne anything.”

  Oh, I believed it. She was terrifying. “Go on,” I encouraged.

  “She beguiled me into coming closer to promise her I would help her, and when I was within striking distance, she pulled my heart from my chest in an old ritual I wasn’t expecting.”

  I gasped. “And it didn’t kill you?”

  “Obviously not.”

  “But … how? Why?”

  “As I said, it’s an old way of keeping another fae held to a bargain or a promise. Worse than a geis.”

  I’d read about geises. They were a tricky way of holding someone to a vow, usually involving something that also hurt the person under the geis if they accidentally broke it. Fae were a pretty terrible lot when it came to mistrust and bargains.

  “Okay, so then what happened?”

  A side of his mouth pulled up as he stared into the distance. “I was never known for my sense of duty and responsibility. Nor for having a sweet temper.”

  “You don’t say?”

  He gave me a side glance and a smile. “Without a heart to regulate their behavior, a fae’s bad habits will grow even worse.”

  He was silent for several moments, so I prompted him to continue.

  “Well, as you can imagine, I was free to do whatever I wanted without the consequence of a heavy heart. And being a bit of a rogue to begin with, there was more than one incident like that with Kemire’s wife.” He smiled, wryly.

  I didn’t return the smile. A sour feeling had tightened my lips, and I told myself I wasn’t jealous - I just didn’t like players. “Go on,” I said.

  “My bad behavior reached a point that my parents intervened and had me brought home. It was there I argued with my brother. In a fit of rage, I pulled a sword to threaten him, but in the ruckus, accidentally cut off his arm.”

  “My God!”

  He nodded. “Rumors started then that I had done it deliberately, to become heir to the kingdom.”

  “Did they believe you tried to kill him?”

  “Maim or kill. Doesn’t matter. I became the presumptive heir as soon as he lost his arm.”

  “Why?”

  “An imperfect fae can never be a ruler. It’s law.” His brows rose. “I’m surprised your mother has managed to hold onto her throne. Others will soon see that she suffers the same illness that killed Boran, if they haven’t already noticed.”

  I struggled against the blow to the gut. I had seen she was sick and possibly insane but hadn’t realized she might be dying as well.

  “Are you sure? What’s wrong with her?”

  “I had hoped it was just the usual decline when it’s time to revisit the Cauldron, but the blueness of the lips and the green tinge of her nails are the same as Boran’s before he passed.”

  “What did the doctors say?”

  “No healers were able to save him. He deteriorated slowly over time, then went quickly in the end. Some thought it might be iron poisoning, but he had other symptoms that contradicted that. In the end, no one knows. There was speculation that he might have contracted a human wasting disease when he tried to find your father.”

  “He was looking for my father?!”

  “He never stopped. He became obsessed. It was so crazed that I wonder now if it was part of the illness itself.”

  “But he never found him?” It was a guess and a wish, which was verified by Puck’s head shake.

  “Did you know him?”

  “Never met, and never cared enough to find out before.”

  “Does that mean you care now?”

  He shrugged. “My curiosity has been piqued.” With a sly grin, he asked, “If I promise to find your father, will you give me back my heart?”

  “I can just ask Grainne who he was.”

  “You are clever, as well as beautiful.”

  Darn that jolt of pleasure. “Stop with the flattery. It’s not going to get you anywhere with me.”

  “Sadly, I’ve noticed.” The twinkling in his eyes suddenly died. “I need it back, Meghan.”

  “Apart from keeping you from indulging in your worse tendencies, which, I agree is a plus for giving the heart back, what would happen if I don’t?”

  “You don’t want to see me at my worst, Meghan,” he said flatly.

  His face took on an expression so devoid of humanity, I had to fight the instinct to run. “So, that’s it. You just get meaner over time?”

  “That, and an increase of this terrible ache.” He touched his chest, and his face returned to normal, but pained. “Like the worst heartburn ever. You have no idea.” He gave a strained smile and continued, “And of course, ending with either dying in a few years or being turned into an evil tree like one in the enchanted woods. Neither option sounds like fun to me.”

  Despite his attempt at a light tone, I could make out the fear in his eyes when he spoke of the tree. I couldn’t blame him. Death would be preferable, even to someone so full of life as he. I stared at my hands contemplating the strangeness of our fates. Puck sat quietly beside me, his large frame warm and solid.

  Decision made, I looked him in the eyes. “Promise you will help me take Twist and leave this place, then let us live in peace in the human realm.”

  “Your mother might have something to say about that.”

  “She gave you to me to do with as I see fit, and this is my demand.”

  His deep laughter filled the garden. “You are truly her daughter after all. Why leave the fae realm when it is clear you are starting to fit in perfectly?”

  “You have until the count of three before I have you sent back to the dungeon,” I threatened.

  “Your wish is my command, Princess.”

  He kissed my hand and I snatched it back. “Fine. We’re agreed then. Tomorrow morning, I will give you your heart, and you get Twist and me out of here.”

  “Why not tonight?”

  “I’m exhausted, and Twist is just a kid, so he needs rest too. Don’t worry, I won’t renege on our deal, if that’s what you’re concerned about.” I rose and headed toward the castle.

  He slung his arm over my shoulder and kept it there when I tried to move away. “Only one small problem, Princess.”

  “I told you not to call me that, and this is the second time you’ve ignored it.”

  “My apologies. I shall endeavor to recall. You are looking so majestic it’s hard to remember.”

  Irritated, I ignored the remark. “What is the problem you mentioned?”

  “I have no bedchambers, so I suppose we’ll have to share.”

  A loud, keening wail and the sound of running footsteps coming from the palace cut off my reply. Anweena and several attendants broke through the garden. “You must hurry. The queen is dying.”

  I started to run, but Puck drew up a wind that sent us over the ground and up the palace walls. We landed on the queen’s bedroom balcony and entered through the multi-paned glass doors.

  Grainne lay under a gold satin coverlet, paler than ever. Her tired eyes roamed over Puck and me. “Have you decided his fate?” Her whispery voice was nearly inaudible.

  “I’ll give him back his heart.” I felt my own heart beating in my throat.

  Grainne gestured weakly to one of her tiny attendants, who disappeared up near the twenty-foot ceiling. After a few moments, she returned bearing an intricately embossed, golden metal box the size of a coffee mug.

  When the butterfly-winged faerie hovered over my hands, I opened them, and she gently deposited the box in my palms. It was heavier than it appeared, and I was surprised she’d been able to carry it. Gingerly opening the lid, I peered inside.

  A small, spherical grey orb lay nestled in a bed of tufted red velvet.

  A smile pulled at my lips. Puck’s heart literally looked like stone.

  An impulse to feel its texture overcame me, and I hovered a finger over it. In a flash, the stone was gone.

  Horrified, I looked at Puck to apologize a
nd saw he was trying to shove the grey heart into his chest.

  “You promised!” I yelled.

  “I’ll keep the promise, but I need this,” he yelled back. He pushed the stone at his chest and howled when it wouldn’t go in.

  “You!” he turned to Grainne. “What trickery is this? This isn’t my heart!”

  “It is,” she said. “As you can see, it has grown quite small and dull. The more you try to force it against its will, the harder it will become.”

  His eyes were wild, and I feared what he might do. “Give it back to me, Puck. You made a promise. That’s probably why it isn’t working.”

  As he struggled with that information, Twist, whom I hadn’t noticed enter the room, spoke. “I don’t believe a heart has been taken from a fae in over a thousand years. Maybe it just needs time to acclimate.”

  I knew from his face the exact moment Puck decided. With a snarl and a blast of wind greater than any I’d seen him create, he disappeared out the window, taking the heart with him.

  Grainne struggled to sit, her hair unruly from Puck’s stormy exit. She called to the guards to follow him and they hesitated, a few claiming that it was more important to protect Her Majesty. A cynical, and alarmed, part of my brain concluded they knew she was dying, and they wouldn’t have to follow her orders.

  Grainne merely sighed, “I suppose it is.” To one of the stick-figure attendants she said, “Bring me the crown.” Her wide, glittery eyes focused next on me.

  “Come closer, Meghan, dear.”

  Remembering what Puck said about her stealing his heart, I hesitated, and Anweena shoved me next to the bed.

  The queen took a towering, ruby-studded, gold crown from the attendant. Her thin arm trembled as she reached for me. “Give your mother a kiss, darling.”

  I bent forward to kiss her thin, pale cheek, and she placed the crown on my head as she drew her last breath.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “Y

  ou all saw what happened,” Anweena yelled to those assembled. “The Queen is dead. Long live the Queen!”