"We have come to pay our respects to the new queen," Ratko called, goading them to attack. They had the arrogance of power about them; it was in they way they stood, twelve of them just waiting, unmoving. He could see it in the sneer on their faces, and in the saliva as it glistened on their fangs.
One of the front pair had his tongue out, lapping at the air as though he was licking up her scent and swallowing it down.
He was the Alpha.
Ephram saw distinct markings on his red pelt. He knew what they meant. Each one represented one of the Alpha's kills. It was ostentatious, and meant to strike fear into his enemies on the battlefield, a show of strength.
He almost pitied them as Meghan started to run at them, empty handed.
The rest of the exiled guardians fanned out around Ephram, taking up positions for the fight of their lives.
Beside him, Targyn Fae pulled one of the remaining sonispheres from the pouch at her side, and now there was no almost about it.
TWENTY-EIGHT
The Council of the Moon
There were gasps and cries as she burst into the Council of the Moon.
She was gasping, hard, as she stumbled into the middle of the room. "Help him," she begged, "You've got to help him!"
"We've been expecting you," a voice from the shadows said smoothly.
She spun around.
The gallery was full.
She could see three hundred or more staring faces, all of them weighing her up, judging her even before the trial had begun. Everyone on the left side of the gallery bore a remarkable facial similarity to each other; the same aquiline cheekbones, the same long lustrous hair turned almost blue by the moon, and the same ancient eyes that gazed on inscrutably. The right side of the gallery was made up of a motley gathering of misfits and monsters. She saw flame-faced daemondim; there was a row of clay men gathered near the front who could have been statues but for the fact they moved just ever-so slightly, there was even a single sallow-faced Kith lurking in the shadows, and dozens of other species; not that she knew any of them by name.
The crow men huddled up in the rafters above the orrery, watching proceedings from on high.
Representatives of all of the clans of the Kingdoms Beneath the Moon had assembled, answering Grimtooth and the Mere's call to arms; the Troll king, the Elemental Regents of fire, earth, air and water, the Wolfen pack leaders, and their Alphas, the Arachne Web, the two-faced Kishi lmperion. The Centaur Spearhead stood to one side, hooves clinking on the tiled floor as he shuffled from foot to foot. There were dwarves and gnomes and goblins side by side with satyrs and salamanders, imps and korrigan, nixies and sylph, black dogs and one-eyed men. Three hags sat in the middle of the front row of the gallery.
So many fabulous creatures stepped straight out of fairy tale and myth, all gathered under one roof to see her flight for the Fairy throne? Ashley looked at them all and wanted to laugh at the madness of it all but she couldn't. How could she when the woman who had left her the treasures that led her here was called Grimm?
Bright light streamed down through the aperture, flooding the chamber with blue-tinged light. It made the planets of the orrery appear even more incredible suspended above the court, though now she could see the thin monofilament wires holding them in place because they looked like shooting stars with the moonlight bringing them to life. All around the great room she saw things she hadn't noticed before. Little details; carvings in the walls; patterns laid out in the floor, some of it incredibly ornate, the rest incredibly plain. There were gouges in the floor, as though something extraordinarily heavy had been dragged aside to make way for Jax's mirrors.
Her gaze followed the direction of the gouges, but they disappeared seemingly straight into one of the walls.
No, there was nothing remotely humorous about her predicament.
The danger the assembly posed was palpable.
Naked flames flickered their cold blue fire before each of them. Each was about three inches high. They came from small burners set into the gallery's retaining walls. On the nearest she could just make out a small dial that could be turned. Presumably it made the flame burn higher or lower, or hotter, like a Bunsen burner in the chemistry lab at school.
She didn't know what—if anything—the flames signified, but because each of the onlookers had one, it was safe to assume they must be tied to the verdict and how they pronounced judgement. Maybe it was like drawing the short straw or getting the 'thumbs down' from a Roman Emperor?
The voices around her dropped to a murmur as the King Under the Moon pushed the great doors open. For a moment he stood in the doorway, a dark mass of writhing shadows. He abandoned the shadows and strode into the centre of the Occulum's grand floor. All she could think when she saw the blood on him was that Blaze was dead.
She clenched her fist.
She let it go.
She clenched it again.
She didn't realise tears were staining her cheeks until the King moved to wipe one away. She pulled away from him. She had never felt more alone in her life than she did at that moment, weighed down by the loss of someone else that had given their life so that she could stand there in a hall she didn't remember, facing a father she had never known to claim a Briar Crown that she didn't want.
He had mastered his mask again, and looked just like one of them with their regal elfin bone structure and waxy complexions. How could they not see what lay beneath?
Jax bowed low to his master.
The others in the gallery rose to their feet until he bade them sit, with a single wave of the hand.
The King paced three complete circles around Ashley, round and around and around, staring at her like something the cat had dragged in. Finally, he drew in a deep breath and walked across to the tallest of the mirrors. He rested his hand on the frame. They were still covered. A gentle breeze made the cloth flutter, making it seem as though the truths they were supposed to harbour were desperate to be out and known by all. But that was the nature of truth wasn't it? To be out there, to spread.
Redhart Jax joined the King.
The Occulator's feral face twitched. His eyes glowed a sickly yellow. His left hand clenched and unclenched reflexively. Everything about his body language spoke of fear and barely contained loathing.
Ashley looked anywhere but at the pair of them.
She scanned the gallery hopping against hope to see Blaze up there. He wasn't there. She didn't want to think about him down in the Bones but all she could concentrate on when she tried to pull herself together was the sight of him in the doorway. He had come for her.
And she had left him there to die.
She didn't feel like a queen.
They all waited on her.
And there were no friendly faces among them.
Ashley didn't know what was expected of her. Was she supposed to stand in the middle of the room and shout, "I am your queen, bow down to me!" or was she supposed to fight for her life in a duel against the man who had stolen her mother's throne, without a weapon to defend herself with? Without Blaze at her side there was no one to tell her what to do or say.
"State your name before the Council of the Moon so that we may know you," Redhart Jax commanded. His voice boomed out, swelling to fill the entire room, amplified as it spiralled up and up through the huge opening in the ceiling and was carried out into the world outside. The Occulator prowled the chamber floor, his claws snicker-snacking on the tiles as he moved.
Ashley looked him in the eye, and remembering Blaze's admonishment stopped herself from saying Ashley Hawthorne. "Ash," she said. Be yourself. That is all you can be. The journal had already told her she wasn't Ashley Hawthorne but she wasn't Ashkellion either. Blaze was right. She was simply Ash.
The Occulator's smile was cruel and cunning at the same time.
"Ash? Do you not claim to be Ashkellion, long lost daughter of Elbegast, King Under the Moon and his beloved Tanaquill?"
"My name is Ash."
"Very well, Ash. You claim the Briar Crown do you not? Or am I mistaken again?"
"I do."
"Good, and you understand that should you fail in your petition you will be deemed guilty of the gravest of crimes: treason against the Kingdoms Beneath the Moon? The punishment for treason is death."
Jax waited for her to say something.
She touched the locket at her throat, her only link to this place now. She thought of the mother she had never known and wondered how she could ever have loved her father. "The blood of Titania flows in my veins," Ashley said, earning a sharp intake of breath from somewhere far up at the back of the gallery.
"So you claim. The Council also wishes to make it known that you stand accused of the theft of Midnight, Queen Tanaquill's sword," and as though responding to some signal a misshapen gnome came shuffling forward bearing the black blade. "This is one of the most precious treasures of our beloved late queen, and the punishment for taking this from her grave is death. Do you understand the gravity of this charge?"
"It is my birthright," she said coldly.
Jax pointedly ignored her. "And lastly, Ash, you stand accused of being an imposter. Not, in fact the daughter of our beloved Tanaquill, may the Fates rest her soul, but the child of traitors, Ephram Wanderer and the Mere, Marissa du Lac, who tried, and failed to murder our beloved King some sixteen years ago to this very day. For their crimes they have been declared renegades and banished from the Kingdoms on pain of death. As their heir their crimes fall upon your shoulders. Do you have anything to say for yourself before the Council begins?"
Happy Birthday to me? Ashley thought. But she didn't say that.
"You look at me and you see an ordinary girl," she said, slowly. "I am not an ordinary girl. I have not been an ordinary girl for a very long time. I have lived a life where I felt like a cuckoo dropped into the wrong nest. I understand why now, when I stand amongst you. I feel as though I know you all, but then in some way I have, as the blood inside me is the blood that flowed inside my mother, and her mother, and her mother before her, all the way back to the first Queen of the Fae. I do not come looking for power. I do not even want to rule the Tribes, but what I want does not come into it. It is who I am." She thought about the last conversation she had had with Blaze. He was right, she needed them to know who she was, and who she was was the only person she could ever be. "I am not Ashley Hawthorne and haven't been ever since Elspeth Grimm woke the Fae aspect of my soul, but neither am I Ashkellion, daughter of Tanaquill. Yet. But I will be. For now I am Ash, and I stand before you as anything but an ordinary girl. I come wielding Midnight, my mother's sword, seeking justice for her and all who loved her. I come to serve the Tribes of the Moon if they would have me."
There was silence for a moment as the assembled watchers thought about what she had just said. It wasn't the flippant answer of a teenage girl; there was honour to it. Nobility. It was the answer of someone born to be queen.
"You will undergo three tests to prove your worth," Jax said, taking control of the floor again. "Heart, mind and soul, and from the tests your claim will be decided. If there is any doubt I shall use the mirrors to show your true self to the Council. In each are preserved important and damning moments from your life on the other side. When the Council has seen their testimony I have no doubt the right verdict will be reached. If it is proven to the court's satisfaction that you are of Bad Blood you will die and your bloodline will die with you, stamped out once and forever."
"You stole my dead wife's sword, you masquerade as my daughter, and threaten the very peace I have fought so hard to establish. You are at the centre of it all. You are chaos. You are a threat to the safety of the entire Kingdoms. This entire thing is a charade. You are no child of mine," the King interrupted, cutting across Jax much to the consternation of the onlookers. It wasn't his place to speak. He was meant to be impartial, letting the evidence unfold before him before pronouncing the judgment of the Council. There was nothing impartial about the way he said, nor the fact that he wore the Briar Crown on his head.
Jax's leering grin was sickening as he took a tiny silver case from his pocket. He walked towards her again, his claws working at the clasp to pop the case open. Inside there was a small mirror. Jax breathed on it, fogging it up, then held it up before her face. "Look into the glass and listen to my words, watch as the mist begins to fade and listen as I describe the way, let your mind follow the path the mirror reveals. Walk with me, Ash. Walk with me." His voice was dangerously hypnotic. The words seemed to tangle like snakes around her. "The mist is beginning to clear, isn't it? What can you see? Tell me what you see."
She couldn't help it. She looked into the small mirror as the fog of Jax's breath began to shrink away, and because she didn't see her own reflection she couldn't look away.
"What do you see?" the Occulator pressed.
TWENTY-NINE
The Beautiful One
She couldn't put words on it. Not at first. It was beautiful. That was all she could think. So beautiful. There was a tree down by a river, a weeping willow, and beneath it spread out on a chequered blanket, a picnic fit for a queen, but none of that held her attention, it was the man standing beside the blanket waiting for her with his hand held out for her to take that was so staggeringly attractive. She could almost hear Mel saying, "Come to mama, pretty boy," in her head. She smiled.
And still Redhart Jax kept on talking, spinning a web of words around her as the image in the mirror crystallised and became clearer and clearer until the full overwhelming beauty of the man was undeniable and irresistible.
Come, join me, stay a while. We can talk here. It is safe. Are you hungry? This is a feast fit for a Queen…
She was, she realised. Not just hungry, ravenous.
"Tell me what you see? All of it. Every last detail. Peer into the looking glass, let the looking glass see all the way back into you."
Join me, Ash. It is Ash, isn't it? Not Ashley. Not Ashkellion. You don't mind if I call you Ash, do you? After all, we're close. We're closer than close. We are family. Come, take my hand. There is so much I need to tell you. So much you need to understand.
She reached out, seeing her hand in the mirror. She felt a tingle, a spark of electricity as they touched, and then she was falling forward as the Beautiful One pulled her in to join him.
"I don't want to sit," she said, but she didn't say it. The words never left her mouth.
Then we don't have to. Walk with me. It is beautiful here, isn't it?
He was right, it was. But how could it be? She turned and turned about. There was no gallery looking down on her, no Occulum, no blue moon shining down through the hole in the ceiling. There was only a hundred thousand acres of sky. Somehow she had stepped through into the backwards land behind the glass. She licked her lips.
"Yes," she said.
There's so much I need to tell you, child. So many truths you need to understand, but the first is how important you are to everyone. You are, you know? You are the middle of everything. It might not feel that way, but life is like that. The world is like that. So many lives, so many paths, so many connections. There is no such thing as 'just one thing'. It is like a great carpet woven from a billion threads. Each thread is dependent upon the ones around it. Pull one and it can all come unravelled. You are a thread, Ash. And not just one at the edge. You are at the very centre of the carpet.
"I don't understand."
Then let me explain. That is why I am here. To explain. To help you see so you can make a decision. If you are truly wish the Briar Crown you will have the magic to claim it and save yourself, should you choose. I am not worried about that. It is more important to me that you understand what is at stake.
"So tell me. Make me understand."
There are two sides to every story. On one you are Tanaquill's child, Ashkellion, and on the other you are Ashley Hawthorne. There is no middle ground. There is no Ash. It is black and white, and yet neither of these choices is simple, and th
e repercussions of both are huge. Imagine for a moment if you are Tanaquill's little girl, what does that mean?
"I am the Fae Queen's daughter."
More than that, it means that you are the Fae Queen, Ash, and your father is the King Under the Moon. There is no one more important in all the worlds. You are the future and the past all in one body. Your blood goes all the way back to Titania, the first of the Faerie Queens and will flow on in the veins of kings and queens until the end of time. And if you are Ashley Hawthorne you are nothing. A speck of dirt in the eye of the world. But sometimes nothing is the best thing to be.
"I don't follow you."
In the years since Tanaquill's tragic death the King Under the Moon has worked hard to craft peace, but peace comes at a price, especially an uneasy one. Peace is at best a fragile thing, you see. There is a schism amid the Fae, some call themselves the 'the dark' and others 'the light'. Not everyone loved Tanaquill, and not everyone would welcome news of her daughter's return with open arms. And as I said, you are at the centre. If you are the Fae Queen the King's peace can't hope to hold and the Kingdoms Under the Moon will be plunged into a full-scale Civil War, a battle of the light against the dark. Countless innocents will die, as they always do when the worst comes, and it will all be your fault.
"How can that be?"
Walk with me. There is so much I would show you. Please.
She did, though it was a strangely disorientating experience. She felt a curious queasiness tug at her stomach. It felt as though the world moved beneath her while she stood dead still, as though walking on a treadmill. She took the Beautiful One's hand and let him pull her along. It didn't take long for the lush grass of the riverbank to be replaced by an entirely different landscape. Black specks circled overhead. Birds. Coribrae, she realised, though they seemed tiny because they were so far above them gliding slowly in ever-decreasing circles. Waiting. Watching.
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