by Emma Newman
“And as Mundanus stole the youth from your body, did you not regret this? Did you not nurse hatred towards your husband for abandoning you?”
“No, my Lord. I nursed a hatred towards the one who took my place, but not him. My husband was thinking of the family and of how we represented you. The perfection of our family required that I be absent, and I accepted that. I still love him, dearly.”
“Your devotion pleases me,” Lord Iris said, closing the distance between them. “You will return to your husband and resume your position as Dame with my blessing.” He wrapped his arms around her, his long white hair draping down like silk, obscuring her from Will’s sight. Then the Fae released her and to Will’s surprise, she still looked the same.
Lord Iris took a step back and cupped Eleanor’s face with his hand in a remarkably tender way. It was jarring, seeing him be anything but cold and detached. Eleanor gazed up at him, her eyes shining, beatific in her devotion, as Lord Iris ran his thumb across her cheek.
Something flaked away from her face in its wake, making Will tense, but then he saw youthful skin revealed, as if it had been there all along. With gentle strokes, Lord Iris brushed away the age from the rest of her face, as if excavating her youthful self from the wrinkled woman standing before him. As he worked, fresh irises grew around them, the stems stretching up and the blooms bursting as if a month had passed in but moments. Lord Iris plucked one, cupped his hand around it, and whispered whilst looking at the others around them, moving further away from Eleanor. When he dropped his hand away the petals twisted into the shape of a butterfly, as did all of the fresh blooms, rising up in chaotic flight to obscure Eleanor from sight. Will heard her laughter, as light and bright as an excited debutante, as the rippling blue mass of wings covered her.
Lord Iris returned to his throne and Will stood back, wishing that he could be dismissed rather than stand there without any certain purpose. But when he saw the way Lord Iris watched and the first hint of a smile he’d ever seen on his patron’s face, Will realised that he was witnessing something remarkable. He could see a flicker of excitement, too, something he’d never associated with Lord Iris, something he’d never even believed possible. Then he remembered that mere hours ago, Lord Iris would have sat on the same throne while Eleanor’s rival probably begged for her life. He would have stolen the youth from her body and created the case around her. Will shuddered. They were nothing more than pets to the Fae, things to do their bidding and relieve the boredom of eternity.
How could he ever feel safe? How could he ever protect Cathy and Sophia from creatures such as this?
Lord Iris snapped his fingers and a faerie flew in from the trees surrounding the clearing and hovered in front of its master. It seemed to take an order without the need for words and flew off, leaving a shower of sparkling blue. When it left, Lord Iris leaned back, watching as the butterflies started to fly off, their work done.
Dame Iris stood with the poise and confidence of a queen, her hair raven black, her lips full and deep red, her skin flawless. Her dark blue eyes were bright with joy and no little triumph. Her gown had been replaced by one made of silk and iris petals, revealing an hourglass figure and a creamy décolletage that Will made himself look away from immediately. She was dressed as if about to step into a ball, her dark blue opera gloves adorned with diamond bracelets that sparkled in the dappled sunshine reaching through the trees.
“You are restored,” Lord Iris said. He looked at Will. “I am capable of benevolence towards those that please me.”
Will inclined his head. Had he not pleased his patron? Then he realised he was talking about Cathy. Not that this was the sort of display of affection she would appreciate.
A figure moving through the trees towards the clearing caught Will’s eye, and he saw Sir Iris approaching. He too looked younger, but only by a few years. Perhaps Lord Iris was rewarding Eleanor further with a less aged husband for her reunion.
Sir Iris stopped at the edge of the clearing, taking in the back of the woman before him, Will, and his patron without showing any sort of reaction. He bowed deeply and awaited his patron’s invitation, which was given with a beckoning finger.
“My Lord,” he said, keeping his eyes fixed on the Fae as he drew level with Eleanor. Will admired his self-control. Surely he knew that was Eleanor? How could he resist looking at her?
“Your first wife has told me what you did,” Lord Iris said, and for the first time, Will saw a flicker of fear in his Patroon’s eyes. “She has satisfied me that you put the family and my desire for perfection first.” Lord Iris spread his hands. “This is all I ask of you. Of any of you.”
Will felt that was aimed at him and Cathy, but he stayed silent.
“Your second wife has already paid her debt, as has your first. You, however, are indebted to me now and when the time comes, you will give me what I ask for without hesitation.”
“Gladly, my Lord,” Sir Iris said.
“In a moment,” Lord Iris whispered, “you will turn and look at each other and know that despite the evil of others, you are reunited once more. And your love will endure as your enemies are forgotten. The love I will see in your eyes will be pure and unbreakable. No one will come between you ever again.”
As he spoke, Will watched his patron lean forwards, a hunger beneath his words. There was something about the way he described it, as if it were more a fantasy of his own than anything to do with the people in front of him.
“Now,” Lord Iris said, and stared with longing as the man and woman before him turned to look at each other.
Will kept his focus on him, watching his patron’s eyes widen and the smile appear, just briefly, before the coldness crept back. Will smiled to himself too, not because of the joyful reunion unfolding nearby, but because he would be leaving this place with more than he’d hoped for. Not just an association with something that clearly made Lord Iris happy, but also the suspicion that his patron was longing for a reunion of his own. The question was, with whom?
19
Sam flicked through ten news channels in his Manchester office, his smile broadening at the sight of the same things appearing in the scrolling headlines at the bottom of the screen. Lord Copper had ignored his polite request, and his warning, so Sam had executed the next part of the plan.
Leanne’s friend Martin Barclay had done sterling work with the information Sam had sent him. He’d listened to Sam’s ideas, too, agreed to the plan to increase the pressure on Copper with a huge breakout story about the horrific conditions of several copper mines that supplied metal to prominent UK companies. Just like Lord Copper’s mines, those companies had been hiding the information about their suppliers.
As expected, a CEO from the mining company had resigned and the usual bollocks about internal enquiries and rigorous reform were trotted out. Both Sam and Martin agreed that nothing significant would actually happen, so they’d held back more information on further abuses of workers and the environment so that they could pile on more pressure when the time was right. Martin had picked a slow news day, called in some favours with his press contacts, and mobilised hundreds of members of his environmental pressure group to blog, tweet, and generally push the stories on social media too. He’d just received a text from Martin on a burner phone he’d acquired for that very purpose, telling him that the Daily Mail was going to run a two-page spread. “It’s the first time those bastards have ever taken an interest in one of my press releases!” Martin had crowed.
There was a single knock on his door and then Susan, one of Amir’s board whom he’d been purposefully avoiding, stormed in.
“What the fuck are you doing?” she yelled. “I’ve just sacked the head of Pin PR for—”
“Sit down,” Sam said.
“You leaked that stuff to the eco-twats! Is this your idea of being a hero?” she shouted, ignoring him. “Do you think that this is going to do anything? It’s probably going to make things worse for those poor bastards in the mines.
If you keep pushing this the mines will be shut down and they’ll lose their jobs. It’s the only employer in the region! What the fuck is the point of protecting the environment when it means people are going to starve and—”
“They won’t shut them down,” Sam said. “They’re the most productive in Copper’s portfolio. The deposit is too big for him to just give up on. He’ll be forced to improve conditions.”
“He doesn’t control that sort of stuff!”
“Well, he fucking should!” Sam stood up. “I told you lot that things were going to change, and if I waited for you, nothing would happen!”
“You can’t just fuck over the other people in the Court like this!” Susan said. “They’re going to come after CoFerrum Inc and we’re not exactly saintly either, you know.”
“What the fuck do you think I’ve been working on over the past two weeks?” Sam pushed his chair back, moving round his desk to face her. “I already knew just how bad things are. I’ve got a team of people overhauling every mine, foundry, and factory Amir left to me and within a year all of them are going to be the cleanest operations, the most environmentally responsible, and the best employers in the world.”
Susan paled. “You’ve broken the ten-year rule; you’re not supposed to make any major changes to Amir’s company until—”
“But he planned to do this,” Sam said, not caring if she believed the lie or not. “I found some old files of his, planning it all. He just didn’t get the chance to see it through.”
“That is such bullshit!”
“Prove it’s not,” Sam said, having already decided that the worst they could do was set the Elemental Court on him.
“I don’t need to. If those files were real we’d already know about them and you wouldn’t have had to hire a team in secret. You went behind our backs.”
“I had to! This is supposed to be mine, you know. I’m Lord Iron. Not you!”
She looked away, so furious she couldn’t speak, as if he’d said something worse.
“Oh!” He shook his head. “I’m such an idiot—I should have guessed. You were one of the potentials! You thought he would pick you!”
“I have no idea why he chose a cretin like you, but I thought he saw something I couldn’t,” she replied. “I was wrong. You were just a mistake. He was starting to lose it and now I see how bad he got. Fuck Amir! And fuck you. I quit.”
Sam’s desk phone started to ring. He shrugged at Susan. “If that’s the way you feel, you’d better tell HR. Just don’t forget the NDA you signed. If you go to anyone else in the Court, if you take any data with you on anything to do with my shit, I’ll roast you.”
“Oh, piss off, you fucking hippie!” she said, opening the door.
“Give your phone to Des on the way out,” Sam said, loud enough for Des to hear. “He’ll send your personal belongings to your home address.”
She slammed the door behind her. The phone was still ringing. He took a moment, glad she was gone and hoping she’d take some of the others with her, then picked up.
“I know you did this,” Copper said.
“I told you I was going to do something,” Sam replied, sitting back down. “Question is, what are you going to do about it? It’s going to get worse if you don’t sort your shit out.”
“I’m cutting you out of the Bolivian deal.”
Sam struggled to remember what that even was. There was something mentioned about it at the Court, but he’d mostly tuned out by that point of Copper’s talk, unable to concentrate whilst he was reeling from how disappointing they all were. “Whatever.”
“And I’ll tell you this. It’s going to get worse for you if you don’t sort your shit out.”
“You’re mistaking me for someone who gives a fuck. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got more important things to do.”
He put the phone down and tilted his chair back, ignoring the phone when it started to ring again. Was this what his life was now? Angry phone calls and people coming into his office to shout at him? It was like Dallas or some other shitty soap opera he used to watch as a kid so he could stay up late. Rich people stamping their feet at each other when they didn’t get their own way. Sod them.
There was another knock on the door, one he recognised as Des. “Come in.”
“Sorry to disturb you, sir.”
“You’re not going to jack your job in too, are you, Des?”
The man smiled. “Not planning to, sir. There’s a lady on the line, says she needs to speak to you about something private. She called your unlisted number, sir, the one no one’s supposed to have.”
Sam sat up. It couldn’t be Cathy; she’d call his mobile. “Put her through.”
Des went out and moments later the phone rang again. Sam picked up.
“Hello?”
“Is this Lord Iron?”
“Speaking.”
“Good morning. My name is Beatrice. I’m a representative from the Sorcerer of Essex. I was wondering if I could come to see you regarding a commission.”
Sam straightened. “The Sorcerer of Essex?”
“Yes. Dante would like to commission a piece, but is unable to travel and wants me to come to discuss it with you. It’s quite complex and he doesn’t trust other means of communication.”
“Umm, yeah, come to my place in Cheshire. Do you know where that is?”
“I do, Lord Iron; it was in the latest communication sent out by your staff. I shall be with you by this evening, if that’s convenient?”
“Great, see you then,” Sam said, and put the phone down. So the wheels surrounding his becoming Lord Iron had been turning. And maybe Petra wasn’t as much of a rarity as he thought. Maybe all the Sorcerers had women working for them as well as men.
He rubbed his hands together. Maybe she could tell him more about the Sorcerers and what they expected of him. Maybe she’d know where that forge near the Thames that he’d seen on the iron slab was. Either way, his first commission was a milestone he was more excited about than his first threat from a member of the Elemental Court.
• • •
Elizabeth descended the stairs in her new gown, feeling quite pleased with herself for needing only two hours to get ready for meeting her future husband. Of course, no contract had been signed and Mother hadn’t even met him yet, but she was confident all would go smoothly. She was beautiful and accomplished and everything a man would want from a wife. He was rich and came from a good family. It couldn’t be more perfect.
She wondered whether he would want to stay in Londinium or establish his new family elsewhere. As long as he didn’t want to live in Jorvic or Aquae Sulis, she’d be happy with anywhere else in Albion, as long as the house was at least as nice as this one. Elizabeth was just about to start making decisions about whether she wanted to have her wedding gown in the empire line or something with a fuller skirt when she became aware of a cluster of servants near the front door.
“What’s happened?” she asked the butler.
“The Duchess hasn’t returned. Neither has the Duke.”
“Oh, he’s not going to be back until this evening. Is something wrong?”
The butler moved so that he could keep glancing out of the window as he spoke. “The Maharaj Kumari of Rajkot is due any minute, and the Duchess isn’t here to receive her.”
Elizabeth rolled her eyes. “My sister is the worst Duchess in the history of Albion.”
“They’re here!” one of the maids called. “Look at all the carriages!”
They all went to the windows and Elizabeth felt a spike of envy at the sight of the Princess’s entourage rolling up to the house in over a dozen carriages. Why couldn’t William have found a prince for her to marry?
“Are we expected to give lunch to all of them?” asked one of the maids.
“It was unclear in the message,” the butler replied, his forehead shining with sweat.
“Is she the princess who went to the ball in Aquae Sulis?” Elizabeth asked, but no one
seemed to know. She couldn’t think of any other princesses visiting Albion. It was so unfair. Cathy didn’t care a jot about how lucky she was to have royalty visit. How typical that she’d forgotten. She thought of no one but herself.
One of the footmen jumped down from the back of the most ornately decorated carriage while a man emerged from another. He was dressed in brightly coloured silk that made Elizabeth feel very drab in her white Regency gown. She marvelled at the colour of his skin, at his hair worn long and braided at the back and at the curved sword hanging from beneath the saffron-coloured sash wrapped around his waist.
He marched up the steps and the butler shooed the staff into a receiving line, pausing when he came across Elizabeth, who ignored him and continued to watch from the window. The Princess was being helped from the carriage by a very attractive footman.
When she stepped out, the Princess paused to have the silks of her sari arranged as a set of four bodyguards with their own curved swords got out of the second carriage and arranged themselves behind her.
Elizabeth had never seen so many jewels worn by a single person. From the tiny gems stitched into the embroidered cloth to the larger ones set into her tiara, the Princess glittered with the most astounding wealth. Elizabeth pouted. The Princess was beautiful, too, and that really was too much. Her skin was so smooth and its dark brown against the reds and golds of her regal clothes looked so attractive compared to her own milky skin. Her black hair was so long it brushed the hem of her sari even though it was partly braided and arranged beneath the tiara. Elizabeth’s eyes narrowed. Surely it was only so smooth and perfect because of a Charm?
There was a loud knock at the door. After a moment with his eyes closed, as if in prayer, Morgan opened the door.
