by Cayla Kluver
Marcus Farrier and Tom Matlock stood on either side of the door through which we would depart, no doubt to close it after the Governor and Zabriel had passed through. Everyone else in the reception hall would be directed out through the main doors by which they had entered.
Tom’s eyes fell on me when I walked by, his proximity and polite nod enough to send an embarrassing flood of heat to my cheeks. I gripped my father’s arm more tightly, using it for a lifeline. My future was set—I had fallen in love with Davic, was betrothed to him, and would marry him. Tom didn’t fit into that equation, other than, perhaps, as a friend. I didn’t know why his mere presence could make my head spin, my heart race, and my skin tingle, but those feelings would surely abate now that I was back with my promised. And I wasn’t about to let the hunters who had stripped me of my wings rob me of all plans and dreams that were part of my former life.
“Going better than expected,” my father murmured, offering me an encouraging smile. I could nonetheless read the tension within the lines on his face, and my own nervous system went on alert, my senses straining to pick up information, my muscles poised to run. Whatever it was Cyandro feared might happen, still could.
Chapter Seventeen
TIME TO CHOOSE
The banquet meal, consisting of both favorite Fae and human dishes, was served at long tables, with the leaders of the two races sitting together at a head table that faced the other guests. The Queen was next to the Governor, with my father on her other side and Luka on his, Konstantin for once relegated to a back row, perhaps out of deference to Ubiqua’s fear of dogs. I sat next to my father, while Zabriel occupied the chair next to Luka. I couldn’t help but notice that the seating arrangement, whether intentional or not, kept mother and son apart, at the same time visually aligning Zabriel with the human side of his family. I mentally congratulated the Governor—this entire event had been carefully staged.
“It’s good to see you, my dear,” my father murmured, giving my hand a squeeze beneath the table. “I’ve been terribly worried about you.”
“I know, and I’m sorry.”
“That’s for another time. For now, let’s just enjoy being back together.”
I understood that this meal was still an official event, and therefore did not expect any further acknowledgment from him, nor did I feel slighted when his attention turned to the conversation taking place between the Queen, the Governor, and the Lieutenant Governor. Zabriel, a stoic expression on his face, ate in silence, making it clear he did not want to enter into any conversation with his mother. The true fireworks would not start until the formal ceremonies had ended and the Fae were granted some privacy. Or so I believed.
When the meal drew to a close, the Governor stood with glass in hand to offer a salute. It appeared his action also served as a signal, for the double doors granting entry from the corridor opened, and servants wheeled in an enormous multi-tiered cake. Disgruntled murmurs rose from the elder members of the assembled Fae, and I looked in confusion at my father.
“This type of cake is traditional at wedding celebrations in the human world,” he murmured, worry creasing his brow. “Whatever the Governor has in mind, I believe the pleasantries are at an end.”
I nodded, beginning to twist my napkin in my hands. Something other than dessert was about to be served.
“Attention, everyone,” Wolfram boomed, his deep voice likely invading all the adjacent rooms. “I wish to make a toast.” He waited until the room was so quiet that the skittering of a mouse to gather crumbs could have been heard. “In honor of the anniversary of my deceased son William’s marriage to Queen Ubiqua, I wish her good health and long life. And I wish the same to my grandson, William Zabriel Ivanova, whose birth and identity have long been kept from me.”
The Governor turned to raise his glass to his grandson, and gasps filled the air at the phrasing of the Prince’s name, a newly minted version that I was certain had garnered my cousin’s approval. Then he put the finishing touch on his toast.
“You are a welcome addition to the family, William, and are hereby formally invited to make your home with us if that should be your desire.”
The humans in the room stood and cheered the Governor’s pronouncement, while the Fae party looked ready to either mutiny or storm from the room. It was the Queen who prevented the chaos that would have ensued. She rose to her feet beside the Governor and raised her glass to his. My eyes darted between them while I gnawed the inside of my cheek, all the anxiety I had felt about this meeting focused on this one moment.
“I would like to make a toast, as well. To Wolfram and Luka Ivanova, the remaining members of my dear William’s family—and here I refer to my husband, and not my son, for the father himself wished his child to be christened Zabriel William Ivanova—but I digress. To my human kin, may you be blessed with good fortune, prosperity, and the sense of accomplishment you so richly deserve for the reception we have been given.”
This time, it was the Fae delegation who clapped in delight, the Queen’s delicate sarcasm not lost on them. Without losing any of her dignity, the Queen had neatly rebuffed the Governor’s insult. But I could not yet relax—thick, suffocating tension still filled the air around the protagonists. The two leaders stared at each other, their glasses poised in midair, then with a clink, they touched the goblets together, momentarily putting matters between them to rest.
“Onto dessert,” Wolfram finished, and it felt as if the entire room brightened, a more peaceful atmosphere restored.
Conversation in the room revived, and the serving staff soon brought cake to everyone seated at the tables. When my piece was placed in front of me, I glanced up to see Davic poking at his with a knife; sweet confections of this type were unknown in the Faerie Realm. I smiled, for Davic always had been slow to embrace new experiences. Then panic raced through my veins—everything on this side of the Bloody Road would be a new experience for Davic. And that didn’t bode well for his ability to adapt to my more human condition or to life in the Territory. The Davic I knew, the Davic I loved, was firmly planted in the Faerie Realm, a place from which I had been painfully uprooted and to which I could never return.
Now that the formal banquet welcoming the Fae had concluded, the Governor’s Minister of International Relations came forward to close out the reception.
“If you would follow me, Queen Ubiqua, I will escort you and the members of your delegation to a private parlor where you can get reacquainted. From there, servants will show you to your rooms in the guest wing.”
He next raised his eyes and his voice to address the rest of the assembly. “Please stay seated until the Governor and Lieutenant Governor have departed. After that, you are free to return to your private affairs. Members of the Fae entourage who do not accompany the Queen will be directed to their quarters by Constable Marcus Farrier and Officer Tom Matlock, who stand just to the side of the doors.”
With a gracious nod of her head to the Minister, the Queen moved to follow him, joined by my father, Zabriel, and myself. The members of the Queen’s Council came to their feet to silently trail us as we were taken to a smaller, well-appointed sitting room. Comfortable armchairs and sofas lined the walls, and a fire smoldered in a large hearth. An oval table occupied the center of the room, its legs cushioned against the marble floor by an intricately designed rug.
Upon our entry, my father went to the table to pull out a chair for the Queen, then took his place beside her, the members of the Council following suit. Davic quickly came to offer a seat to me, although he chose to stand behind me, hand upon my shoulder, his casual touch enough to make me tremble. Ione unobtrusively sat down on one of the sofas, likely unsure of whether she should be included in this gathering or whether she should have departed with the Queen’s handmaidens and the majority of the Queen’s Blades to seek much-needed rest. The four guards that remained stayed on their
feet, taking up posts around the room’s perimeter. For the most part, this was now a family affair.
Though the Fae party was presumptively alone at this point, I couldn’t imagine we weren’t at the very least being monitored with regard to our delegation’s movements. The Governor would not risk losing Zabriel to an escape—or a kidnapping by his own people—at this or any juncture. And Zabriel would feel the same.
Despite the auspicious company in which he found himself, Davic stole a rather brazen moment to give me a kiss on the cheek. I returned a fleeting smile, too worked up to relax or pay attention to my own affairs. Zabriel had not come to the table, and everyone tensely waited to see if he would occupy the vacant chair beside his mother. Such was not to be the case. Though he didn’t seem especially agitated, he paced in front of the sideboard, upon which stood filled decanters and crystal goblets, his discomfort seemingly colored by fatalism. He could no longer avoid this conversation. His past had overtaken him at last.
No one spoke, perhaps uncertain of the protocol in this situation, and my apprehension mounted. I gripped Davic’s hand over my shoulder, garnering support from his presence. Should I try to bridge the gap between mother and son, ease this reunion since Zabriel and I had already made ours? But as the Prince once more strode past the head of the table where Ubiqua sat, giving her a wide berth, the Queen rose and gestured to the chair immediately on her left.
“Sit.”
“No.”
Silence reigned again, Zabriel examining the sideboard he repeatedly passed, the Queen leaning upon the table, mightily trying to suppress her anger.
With a deep breath, she straightened, her voice controlled and surprisingly soft when next she spoke. “There are decisions to be made, Zabriel, matters to discuss. It abets no one to elude them further.”
“I assume you have already made any and all decisions worthy of discussion, as is your habit.”
The Queen’s fists tightened, turning white at the knuckles. For the first time, I saw her out of her milieu of comfort and short of words.
“Sit down, Zabriel.”
I was stunned to hear my father address my cousin in his firm, calm tone, for he knew his position well and was not one to intercede without the Queen’s directive. Zabriel seemed likewise stunned, and he eyed Cyandro with intrigue and caution. Some silent communication passed between them; then Zabriel bowed his head irreverently, his arms spread wide.
“If that is what you wish, Uncle.”
Turning his back to the sideboard, he hoisted himself atop it, tucking one boot next to him on its wooden surface. He cocked an eyebrow at my father, daring him to say something more, but I knew the Lord of the Law would not rise to a needless challenge. Pride swelled within me—Cyandro was in all ways a warrior for his Queen.
Ubiqua nodded minutely to my father in appreciation for his assistance, then turned to face her son, the train of her dress gathering into pleats behind her. Despite his haircut and sophisticated garb, Zabriel looked every bit the pirate he had become. One wrist hung loose over his knee, and he offered his mother a shrug, testing her.
“My life grows short, Zabriel. I expect Anya and Illumina have told you of the Redwood’s prediction.”
To his credit, he briefly dropped his gaze. “I’m sorry.”
“I don’t raise this to garner sympathy, but because it makes every moment critical. And given Anya’s condition, the situation is dire, for Fae and human alike. I must know where you stand.”
“First it’s ‘sit,’ now it’s ‘stand’?” Zabriel was going to great lengths to sound flip, and yet he was fingering the chain around his neck. I couldn’t see where it ended, but I suspected it was the necklace that held his royal ring. Or perhaps it was Evangeline’s locket, which he had also taken to wearing. In either case, it was a potent reminder of what was at stake—not just Zabriel’s future but the future of the Realm itself.
“I have to know,” Ubiqua repeated.
“Don’t waste time with pleasantries, by any means.”
He was now swinging his extended leg forward and back—his facade was cracking. I tightened my grip on Davic’s hand and tried to find my father’s eyes, but he was staring straight ahead. The most I could glean of his reaction was the tight line of his mouth and the cord that stood tensely out in his neck.
Ubiqua took a step toward her son. “Zabriel, I know why you made the choice you did. I’ve spent the last two years dissecting and laying bare the mistakes that were made. But whatever you came to believe, the members of the Council and my Court never wanted you to walk away. And the Faerie people never wished to see the last of you. They mourned you after you left. I mourned you. And you are wanted still in our Realm.”
Zabriel’s eyes had closed, and she took another step closer. He must have sensed her approach, for his brow furrowed and he held up a hand, shaking his head almost imperceptibly. “No.”
The Queen didn’t listen. She came closer yet, and tears stung my eyes. I recalled how much she had missed him, how his absence had devastated her. He’d expressed his mixed feelings about her to me, and though I knew what his automatic, self-protective reaction would be, surely not even he could resist this moment.
“My love, you were never unwanted,” she said in an undertone, her sentiment meant only for him. “You belong with us. You’ve always belonged.”
I thought they would embrace. My first clue that this would go differently was the prescient stiffening of my father’s spine. Then Zabriel’s arm shot out to full extension and his eyes flew open. “No!”
This time the word sounded in the room like a clap of thunder. He launched himself off the sideboard, landing nimbly past the Queen and out of her reach, though the items that had decorated his perch fared less well. They scattered and shattered, the noise enough to jar the collective heart of the room into palpitations.
“No,” he snarled again, one arm still out to keep his mother at bay. The Council members around the table looked appalled, and the Blades shifted their posture, ready to intervene, but Ubiqua cast her steadying gaze over them all.
“That won’t be necessary,” she informed her guards. Her affect was hardened, as it often had been when Zabriel did not respond to her in accordance with her desires. Neither mother nor son teemed with patience by nature, and I caught my father heaving a breath and rubbing his jaw. Could this meeting truly degenerate so quickly? Could Zabriel and Ubiqua really pick up without missing a beat?
“No evading, Zabriel, remember?” she said as if she were addressing an untamed animal. “I can’t tell you there are no options for you. But running isn’t one of them, not anymore. You have to choose.”
“I did choose!” he seethed. He was breathing too fast, his eyes wild, and for an instant, I worried he might black out. But he rallied to muscle on. “I chose two years ago, when I left all of this behind me.” His arm swept the room, followed by his heated gaze. “When I left you. And just to set the record straight, I knew I wasn’t unwanted. You certainly wanted me. There was never any doubt of that, was there? You had plans for me from the moment of my birth, but they didn’t take into account my wishes, my desires, didn’t even give me the chance to know who I was. So you see, I rejected you, Mother. You, and the life you tried to force on me.”
“That is the past, Zabriel. We have to look to the future. You have had your adventure here in the Warckum Territory, made your mark, so to speak. Now it’s time to think of others—”
“Others? Who have you ever thought of besides yourself? Don’t try to preach to me about selflessness. I won’t swallow the kind of hypocrisy you’ve been feeding your people and your family for decades. I know what you’ve done, the guilt you carry, the sins against Nature that can never be washed away.”
This time Zabriel had gone too far. The Queen’s affront rose like a dark presence in the room, but before she
could release her anger, my father took to his feet and rushed around the table. He stood equidistant from the antagonistic pair, so that the three of them formed a triangle, and attempted to negotiate a ceasefire.
“Your Highness, I suggest a respite,” he said, and a ripple went around the room at the fact he chose to address the Queen instead of her son, who was so clearly the offending party.
“No evading,” Zabriel muttered, addressing my father, but his tone was darker and deeper than could be accounted for by his sardonic attitude. “No running away anymore.”
It was so tense in the room that the air could have burst apart like glass under pressure, injuring everyone in its path. Then the Prince clenched his fists, spat on the floor before the Queen, and strode from the room, shoving both doors open like a tempest.
No one moved to check him, whether out of shock or fear, and absolute silence descended upon the room. Then Lisian, the Captain of the Blades, spoke up.
“It has been a long day, Queen Ubiqua. Perhaps we should all retire?”
“Yes, momentarily. There is one other matter to address.”
My father walked around the table to retake his seat, and the Queen caught his eye.
“You will talk with him later, won’t you, Cyandro? After he’s had time to cool down?”
“I think it would be best to wait until morning. But then, yes, I will talk to Zabriel.”
“Good.”
To my surprise, the Queen turned her attention on me. Her expression had softened, and I fidgeted with the fabric of my skirt, bracing for the expression of sympathy I was about to receive. Then she reached for my hand, her touch providing comfort without the need for words.
