Midnight's Knight: A Fae War Chronicles Novel (The Fae War Chronicles Book 0)

by Jocelyn Fox

  Finn glanced at the clothes laid out on his bed. It didn’t much matter if he liked them or not, since he had little choice in the whole matter.

  “There was another messenger who said that the Princess will expect you at the third chime in the Queen’s Courtyard. The Queen and Princess meet there before the evening meal, and there might also be some Seelie guests tonight.”

  “Not much time, then,” said Finn as he unceremoniously stripped out of his sweat-dampened clothes and began to wash. Ramel took his sword belt from him and carefully unsheathed his Knight’s sword, sliding it into a simple yet elegant black leather belt and sheath that Finnead reserved for special occasions.

  Finn noticed that Ramel was already dressed for the evening meal, and once again he appreciated his luck in choosing such a quick learner for his squire. He dressed in the simple yet sumptuous clothes laid out for him on the bed: a soft gray undershirt and a black tunic, slashed artfully at the sleeves to show the gray beneath; over that, a fitted black vest created from supple leather and worked with silver accents at the throat and shoulders. The black breeches fitted him more snugly than he preferred, but that was the current style, and they’d even left black boots, the tops worked with silver designs that matched his vest.

  “I feel like a useless dandy,” muttered Finn as he buckled his sword belt about his waist.

  “If you were a dandy, sir, you wouldn’t have a Knight’s blade,” pointed out Ramel. His squire took a step back and surveyed him. “And not to be rude, sir, but if the Princess’s goal is to make the other ladies jealous by having the most well-appointed escort for the meal, she might succeed.” He grinned cheekily as Finn rolled his eyes.

  “Don’t start all that nonsense again,” Finn told his squire.

  “Did I ever stop?” Ramel’s grin only widened.

  “I hope you’re ready for a trip into the lion’s den,” Finn cautioned him.

  “I understand how sharp the ladies’ claws can be,” said Ramel with a knowing tone that Finn knew should have alarmed him. “Don’t worry, sir, we’ll be with Princess Andraste and Lady Rye. And you’ll have me to watch your back.”

  “That’s part of what worries me,” muttered the Knight, but he softened his words with a smile. He resisted the urge to tug at the fitted vest. “Come on, then. Let’s get this over with.”

  “If you think like that, sir, it’s going to be a very long night. Why not relax and try to enjoy yourself?” Ramel banked the fire and extinguished the candles on the table as he followed the Knight to the door.

  “Because that’s how events spiral out of control, Ramel,” said Finn. “I don’t need to enjoy myself, I just need to make sure that I keep the peace and don’t cause any grave breaches of courtesy.”

  “Always so serious,” muttered his squire as he shut the door behind him.

  Finn chose to ignore the sarcasm as they made their way toward the Queen’s Courtyard. Two Guards stood duty at the entrance, their spears crafted artfully from dark wood and topped with sharp blades – they were no ceremonial weapons with blunt edges. With a sinking feeling, Finn realized that they’d trained often together as squires.

  “Knight Finnead,” said one with a suppressed smile.

  “Moving up in the world quickly, I see,” said the other in a sly undertone.

  “I’m following orders same as you,” replied Finn coolly.

  “Well, if I were you I’d at least try to enjoy myself,” said the first with a wink.

  “That’s what I said,” whispered Ramel behind him.

  “Do you need anything else from me, or may I enter?” Finn said.

  The two Guards merely grinned and motioned for him to pass.

  The Courtyard already hummed with genteel conversation. A small dais had been constructed under an arch of woven vines and roses. Queen Mab sat on a carved white throne, her scarlet gown vivid against the bone-pale wood. A bard who looked strangely familiar to Finn stood just behind the dais, playing a harp skillfully.

  “Lady Rye’s twin Tyr,” murmured Ramel at his elbow.

  As soon as his squire pointed it out, Finn immediately saw the similarity. He paused and stood still for a moment, taking in the elegantly dressed courtiers standing in small groups throughout the courtyard. Scattered among the dark-haired Unseelie were the Seelie dignitaries, their golden skin and bright hair a shocking contrast to the winter paleness of their hosts. A tall Seelie Knight who wore the seal of Titania herself stood next to the Queen’s dais, speaking to Princess Andraste. The Princess wore a silver-gray gown, the skirt split to reveal a black underskirt. Finn realized that he’d been dressed to complement the Princess, and he groaned inwardly. Then he drew back his shoulders. He was a Knight, and he would not allow the prospect of socializing with the highest tier of the Court to strike any kind of foreboding into his heart. He made his way across the courtyard toward Andraste.

  The Princess turned toward him as he bowed. “My lady,” he greeted her. He straightened and gave a nod of respect to the Seelie Knight. “Sir. Welcome to our Court.”

  “Knight Finnead,” replied Andraste, “this is Knight Niall, the Vaelanseld of the Seelie Court.”

  “It is an honor that Queen Titania would send one of her Three to our Court,” said Finn.

  “On the contrary, the honor is mine,” replied Niall with an easy smile. He wore his hair longer than the Unseelie Knights, as was the fashion of the Seelie Court. Tonight, his golden hair was neatly braided. Somehow it reminded Finn of the Northerners. “Though our tidings are perhaps not entirely welcome.”

  Finn raised his eyebrows in silent inquiry.

  “We have been experiencing certain events in our lands and in the White City that do not bode well,” said Niall.

  “We have killed strange wolf-creatures in our own forests,” said Finn with a nod.

  “It is our Queen’s intention to send a delegation to the White City to investigate what we believe to be the source of the darkness,” Niall continued.

  “You believe it is coming from the White City?” Andraste asked, her gray eyes intent.

  “We believe that the Great Gate might become unstable,” said Niall gravely.

  “Any change to the Great Gate could greatly affect the flow of taebramh between the worlds,” said the Princess thoughtfully.

  “It is apparent that you take your studies seriously, my lady,” said Niall. “I am glad to know that the tales of your keen mind were not exaggerated.”

  Princess Andraste smiled. “Would you have told me if they were exaggerated, Knight Niall?”

  Niall chuckled. “That is a difficult question, my lady. I cannot speak anything but the truth, yet I am here on a mission of alliance, not war.”

  Andraste laughed. “If we go to war over so simple an insult, sir, then we are already doomed.” Then her voice became serious. “And why must you be here on a mission of alliance? Our two Courts have always maintained ties of love and respect.”

  “That may be true, my lady, but there are those who would deny the urgency of our mission,” said Niall in a low voice.

  “Those who do not believe that there is a threat,” replied Andraste with a nod of understanding. She tilted her head in consideration. “Perhaps I shall offer to lead our delegation to the White City.”

  “My lady, it is a long and difficult journey, but you would be welcomed with joy,” replied Niall.

  “Knight Finnead is my personal guard,” continued Andraste. “What do you think, Finnead, of the idea?”

  “I will go wherever the Queen commands me,” said Finn carefully. He felt as though they were treading on the first river-ice of the winter, unsure if it was thick enough to hold their weight.

  “If you always speak with such measured thought, perhaps your Queen could use you for diplomacy,” said the Seelie Vaelanseld with easy cheer.

  “Or perhaps I will take you with me to balance my sharp tongue,” countered Princess Andraste. Her smile contained a suggestion that surprised Fin
n.

  “My lady, your beauty balances your sharp tongue,” replied Knight Niall in typical Seelie fashion. Andraste glanced at Finn as though to gauge his reaction; he carefully kept his face blank.

  “If you’ll excuse me, your lovely sister beckons,” said Niall, bowing to Andraste and nodding to Finn.

  “My Master of Wardrobe chose well,” the Princess said, her gaze traveling from Finn’s face to his boots appreciatively.

  “And I did not have much of a choice,” replied Finn.

  Andraste narrowed her eyes. “Would you have chosen to stay in the forest with your nymph instead?”

  Finn felt his own gaze sharpen. “I do not see how that is your concern, my lady.”

  “Sir, would you like a drink?” Ramel interrupted smoothly. At Finn’s curt nod, he turned to Andraste. “My lady?”

  “Why not,” said Andraste coolly.

  Ramel wore an expression of foreboding as he slipped away to fetch them goblets.

  Finn took a deep breath and searched for some innocent subject, some escape route from the strange displeasure hidden behind Andraste’s calm exterior. He couldn’t find one quickly enough.

  “Well? Would you have rather hidden in the forest with your tree spirit?” Andraste arched an eyebrow.

  “How do you know of it?” Finn managed.

  “It’s common enough knowledge that you have a romance with one of the tree spirits,” said Andraste. She tilted her head slightly. “Was she ever about when we were in the forest practicing?”

  “I don’t think we should speak of that here,” said Finn, glancing about to ensure no one had heard her.

  “Stop avoiding my questions,” Andraste said.

  “My lady, I simply do not understand how it is any of your concern,” Finn repeated. He felt cornered, but this was not a sparring match where he could fight his way out. He stood among the finery and elegance of the most favored of Queen Mab’s Court and felt like a fool.

  “It is my concern because I do not like to see you waste yourself on a nymph who cannot provide any of the comforts of a real relationship,” said Andraste, her eyes flashing.

  Finn drew back slightly. He took a slow, deep breath, but it didn’t ease the whirl of emotions in his chest. “My lady, it is still beyond me to understand why every member of this Court seems to think that they are entitled to an opinion about my personal affairs.” Andraste opened her mouth but Finn plunged onward. “Some reprimand me for being too focused on my tasks as a Knight. Some congratulate me on attaining whatever dalliance they have conjured up in their heads with the nymph of the forest. And now you apparently tell me that I cannot have even that.” He heard his voice heating, he knew he should stop and approach the subject again when they were both calmer, but he’d had enough. “So, tell me, my lady, what is it that you suggest I do?”

  Andraste stared at him, two spots of color burning high on her pale cheeks, her chest heaving in her bodice as she took uneven breaths. “You should stop seeing her,” she said in a strangled voice.

  “No,” said Finn flatly. He wondered at his own courage. “I will not give up a genuine friendship simply because of the gossips of this Court. If they have nothing better to do than invent torrid romances, then we have done our duty as Knights and Guards in protecting them from the darkness of this world.”

  “A genuine friendship?” Andraste repeated questioningly. “Are you saying you…that there is no…romance?”

  Finn felt his face settle into a smooth, courteous mask. “It is unseemly to ask such a question of me, my lady.”

  The spots of color on Andraste’s cheeks spread. “Then I suppose that is my answer,” she said tightly.

  “Why is it your concern?” asked Finn in exasperation.

  Ramel returned with two goblets. “The Seelie brought a few barrels of their best wine with them,” he said cordially, though his eyes traveled between the flushing Princess and his stiffly courteous master. “It is not dark, as our wine is, but rather a golden color. Perhaps we could speak to them about their process of making such a wine.”

  Both the Knight and the Princess accepted their goblets from the squire without a word. They looked at each other for a long moment more. Then the Princess spoke.

  “You truly are blind, Finnead,” she said in a voice that was at once fond and despairing. Then she turned slightly aside and took a long sip of her wine.

  “Ah, here is the Lady Rye,” said Ramel to fill the silence. He widened his eyes in a signal for help to Rye as she approached. She quickly evaluated the situation and engaged Andraste in conversation.

  “What just happened?” Finn said in a low, weary voice to his squire.

  “I don’t know, sir, but we have the rest of the night to right it,” Ramel said encouragingly.

  “Or make it worse,” muttered Finn as he raised his goblet.

  “If you think like that, you’ll back yourself into another corner,” said Ramel. “Come now. You’re a Knight. Act like one.”

  Finn stared at his squire in astonishment. Ramel held his gaze challengingly. Finally, Finn grinned and took another swallow of wine.

  “I knew there was a reason I chose you as my squire,” he said, clapping Ramel on the shoulder.

  “A reason other than my skill with a staff and my boyish good looks?” Ramel replied innocently.

  Finn chuckled. “Don’t say that too loud, or you’ll start more rumors.”

  Ramel smiled. “No one cares about squires, sir.”

  “Except for when there’s not one around when you need one,” said Finn.

  “I’ll drink to that, sir,” agreed Ramel with a grin. “That is, if I were allowed to drink.”

  Finn laughed. He glanced over at Andraste; the conversation with Rye seemed to have restored her in a similar way. He took another sip of wine and thought perhaps that the night wasn’t a lost cause after all.

  Chapter 21

  After almost six years of serving as Finnead’s squire, Ramel had honed his skills at reading the Knight’s nearly undetectable expressions. He could tell when Finnead had forgotten the name of the lady speaking to him, when he let his mind wander to the next patrol into the forest or his next visit with the nymph; and on nights like tonight, he could tell when the Knight was knocked off balance by a conversation. Sometimes it took a statement that bordered on impertinence to jar the Knight back into his right mind, and Ramel thought that had been accomplished.

  His position as a squire in fact afforded him unique opportunities in such a gathering of the luminaries of Court – he was, for all intents and purposes, invisible. His squire’s vest silently rendered him beneath the interest of most of Queen Mab’s favored courtiers. He took advantage of the fact and listened intently as he walked across the courtyard to refill Finnead and Andraste’s wine goblets. Most of the conversation that flowed around him sounded innocuous: ladies discussing court fashion, gentlemen talking of the next hunt, a few Knights debating the merits of a new mortal invention called the crossbow. Ramel thought the crossbow certainly sounded interesting, but he couldn’t stop and listen – and then he passed someone that he thought for just a moment was Rye, but the voice threw him off. He realized it was Rye’s twin, the bard Tyr.

  Tyr spoke in a low, intense voice with two of the Seelie delegation. When he heard Tyr’s voice, Ramel understood why Rye’s twin was so acclaimed as a bard. Even just speaking, his voice was rich and melodious. The passion in Tyr’s voice flowed into his words. Though Tyr pitched the conversation to be difficult to hear, Ramel had especially keen ears – also honed through his years as a page and squire. It wasn’t eavesdropping when you gleaned actionable intelligence from the conversation.

  “I firmly believe that the Lady Bearer may be persuaded to lend her voice to our cause,” said Tyr to the two Seelie.

  “Our Queen may be more amenable than yours to forming an alliance,” said one of the Seelie, a woman of such breathtaking beauty that Ramel had to keep himself from staring.

&
nbsp; “It isn’t just an alliance,” replied Tyr. “It is our freedom. Our freedom to choose which Court we belong to, if we want to belong to any at all.”

  “These are dangerous words,” said the other Seelie, a tall and white-fair man.

  Ramel silently thanked the three of them for conducting their conversation so close to the table that held the pitchers of wine. He set the two goblets down and inspected each pitcher carefully, creating the illusion that he was fetching wine for a particularly selective master. Finnead didn’t give two feathers about the type of wine he drank, but Ramel felt a prickling of caution along the back of his neck as he continued to listen to the conversation between Tyr and the Seelie. He wanted to hear more, because his instincts told him it was something important.

  “Why?” rejoined Tyr. “Why is the idea of freedom so abhorrent to our monarchs?”

  “Because they do not wish to relinquish their power,” murmured the Seelie woman.

  “Because they fear the consequences of allowing their people to choose,” said the Seelie man in a low, heavy voice.

  “For those reasons and more,” said Tyr.

  Ramel saw the Seelie woman glance at him; he selected a pitcher and began to pour wine into the goblets. She watched him for a moment and then turned back to the conversation.

  “There is already a rift between your Court and the ulfdrengr, simply because the herravaldyr spoke in defense of the very freedom that you are proposing,” said the Seelie man.

  “What of it?” asked the woman. “If we send word, the Northerners will help us. I am sure of it.” She nodded to Tyr. “You know they still consider us friends of their people.”

  “But the question is whether they are willing to fight to aid you, Corsica,” the Seelie man said.

  “You seem to presume that they take friendship lightly,” Corsica said stiffly.

  “Peace,” said Tyr. The Seelie man sighed and Corsica shifted unhappily, but they remained silent. “We will not ask for their support unless that is what it comes to. I still have hope for a resolution without bloodshed.”