A Court of Faerie

by Sarina Dorie

  Errol’s heart sank to the pit of his belly. Grief at his loss flooded into him anew.

  “Revenge doesn’t have to be the only answer,” Prince Elric-Atherius said.

  Errol wasn’t certain, but he thought he saw intelligence in Prince Elric-Atherius’ blue eyes. They shifted to yellow as he stared into Errol’s face. The youngest prince had experienced his share of heartache in his life. Errol had documented each of his human consorts and their deaths in his ledger.

  “This isn’t about bringing someone back,” Prince Beorhtsige said. “This is about feeling satisfaction at killing an enemy and making the Raven Court pay for their trespass.” He held up his hand and an ornamental battle ax flew from its mount above the fireplace from across the room. Prince Beorhtsige grabbed the handle and offered the weapon to Errol. “Get this over with. Avenge your sister. Then you can go back to… dinner.” His gaze raked over Errol, amusement in his smirk. Errol realized he still had a napkin tucked into his belt from dinner.

  The maid stared at him through clumps of mahogany hair, horror in her yellow eyes.

  Errol stepped away from the weapon. “No,” he said.

  “Fine, then,” Prince Beorhtsige said. “If you’re missing the backbone it takes to exact revenge for yourself, your kingdom, and your sovereign, I shall do so on your behalf.”

  “No, you will not,” Errol said more firmly.

  Prince Beorhtsige raised the ax. As quick as the pause between heartbeats, Errol transported himself between the prince and the young woman. The royal family had the luxury of draining mortals and Witchkin artists with their muse magic to fuel their affinities, but they were lazy and unpracticed when it came to the skills of defensive magic. Errol hadn’t been promoted to the position of captain for no reason. Without even raising a hand, he stopped Prince Beorhtsige’s swing as it descended toward the maid’s head. He froze the ax in place so that it was wedged in air too thick to allow it to pass.

  “Nice trick!’ Prince Elric-Atherius said. “You’ll have to teach me that one!”

  Errol raised his voice as though he were speaking to his own men rather than royalty. “How are we any better than the Raven Court if we stoop to their level by killing innocents?”

  “How dare you speak to me that way! This is treason.” Prince Beorhtsige continued to fight with the ax. His face turned violet from the effort.

  “Actually, no, it isn’t.” Prince Elric-Atherius strode to Errol’s side. “Father said it was Captain Errol’s decision about what he wanted to be done. Not his sovereign’s. Not ours. I think it would displease Father if he learned you had intended to destroy Captain Errol’s property. I wouldn’t doubt it if he would make you repay the captain out of . . . your allowance.”

  Errol’s estimation of Prince Elric-Atherius was growing by the minute.

  Prince Beorhtsige released the ax. It hovered in midair. The prince growled, “You’re both dolts.”

  Prince Elric-Atherius bowed as if accepting the insult as a compliment. Errol swept a hand over the ax and unglued it from where it hovered.

  He placed a hand over the ax and returned it to the wall.

  He hadn’t noticed the maid had thrown herself to the ground at his feet. He crouched beside her. “It’s all right. No one is going to hurt you.”

  The snort from behind Errol attested to Prince Beorhtsige’s presence near the door. Errol’s preternatural senses told him the prince lingered. Errol ignored him.

  He lifted the maid off the floor into a seated position again. “Are you a cook? A kitchen maid?”

  Tears continue to spill from her eyes.

  “You can’t expect the Raven Court will have sent someone of equal value to your sister’s position even if they said they did,” Prince Beorhtsige said. “And as I said before, we won’t be able to trust her.”

  Errol said, “The barracks have their own kitchen and staff. She needn’t prepare food for the royal family.”

  She sniffled and wiped her face with the back of her hand. Errol reached for his handkerchief, but he remembered he had blown his nose on it earlier after inhaling dust on the practice field. He snatched up the napkin, uncertain of whether that was considered uncouth. Prince Elric-Atherius shoved a fancy lace handkerchief with an embroidered “E” in the corner into Errol’s hand.

  Errol handed that to the maid. “What’s your name?” he asked.

  She wiped her eyes. When she opened her mouth, sound came out, but he didn’t understand what she said. She tried again, but he still couldn’t tell what she was trying to say.

  “Is it a tongue-twister curse or jinx?” Errol asked.

  “She hasn’t got a tongue,” Prince Beorhtsige said. “It’s not an uncommon practice in the Raven Court. It’s so they don’t repeat what they’ve heard.”

  “Can we mend her tongue with a healer?” Errol’s own healing abilities were relegated to open wounds. He looked to Prince Elric-Atherius.

  Elric-Atherius nodded. “I believe the court physician would be skilled enough.”

  Prince Beorhtsige grunted in disgust. “I can’t believe you two with all this fuss over a mere maid.”

  “If you wish to do something useful, you could fetch the physician for us,” Prince Elric-Atherius said.

  “You can fetch him yourself.” Prince Beorhtsige stalked out of the room.

  “Right,” Prince Elric-Atherius said. “I’ll be back in two shakes of a dragon’s tail.” Prince Elric-Atherius faded from sight, transporting himself with magic.

  The young woman leaned back against the desk and drew her knees to her chest. She watched Errol warily. He would have felt far better about trying to calm her if he hadn’t been alone. Or if she had been able to talk.

  “Did you work in the kitchen?” Errol asked. “You can nod. You don’t need to try to talk.”

  She nodded.

  “Do you have family?”

  Tears filled her eyes. She shook her head.

  “Do you want employment here in the Silver Court? I can find you a room and work in the kitchen if that is what you wish.”

  Errol tried to distract her with questions, but he floundered through a one-sided conversation. He rambled on, talking about his job and his duties, and anything else that popped into his head. If he was being generous with himself, he sounded utterly daft. She’d stopped crying at least. It was a relief because Errol didn’t know what to do with people who cried.

  Prince Elric-Atherius returned a few moments later with the physician. The court healer was so skilled, all he had to do was look her up and down to evaluate her. “There aren’t any curses or spells at work that would interfere with regrowing a tongue.” He frowned, looking from Errol to the prince. “But I can’t see why you would want to restore a maid’s tongue. Witchkin women should be seen, not heard.” He lifted his nose up at her as if he were doubtful she was worth seeing either.

  She glared at the physician. Errol had served with a number of Witchkin men in the navy as well as in the King’s royal guard. Many were just as skilled as Fae in combat. As for the comment about women, Errol was certain his sister would have given the physician a good wallop for that comment had she been in the maid’s place.

  His chest tightened thinking of his sister. She had been a good person and one of his closest friends for most of his life—up until the time they’d become estranged. He’d gotten her the position in the kitchen, though she’d been the one to put in the work to rise in the ranks from kitchen maid to head cook.

  “And who is going to pay for her treatment? Tongues don’t grow on trees,” the physician said.

  Prince Elric-Atherius huffed. “My father pays your salary.”

  “He doesn’t pay me to heal kitchen maids.” The physician looked her up and down. “Especially not wenches with venereal diseases.”

  The maid’s eyes went wide with horror.

  “Oh dear, that sounds unpleasant.” Prince Elric-Atherius’ brows furrowed w
ith concern.

  Errol felt embarrassed for her that the doctor should speak of her condition so openly. He hated to imagine all the ways she had suffered from her slavery in the Raven Court.

  “I think I should find her some new attire.” Errol slipped out of the room.

  The young lady was filthy and would need a bath as well as somewhere to sleep. He hadn’t thought to ask anyone about his sister’s possessions, including her clothes. Those would come in handy.

  He flagged down a maid in the hall. “Do you know of Rosemerta? She’s a maid. She rooms with Sergeant Annie Norris.” They would be able to help.

  Errol didn’t know many women besides Captain Helga and Sergeant Norris. The latter soldier had hidden her identity to avoid harassment of her own, only to come out a few years before. Like Helga, she was required to room outside the barracks. He suspected both female soldiers would be sympathetic to the young woman’s situation. He needed to find one of them and ask for their guidance, as he could see he was already in over his head.

  CHAPTER TWO

  With Great Power Comes Great Bossiness

  Captain Errol spent most of his evening making arrangements for the maid’s employment in the kitchen that served the royal guard, finding adequate quarters for her that she was to share with another maid. He learned from Sergeant Annie Norris and Rosemerta that the maid’s name was Ivy, and she was an Amni Plandai with plant affinities and kitchen-magic skills. Witchkin with those abilities were always useful in kitchens.

  Errol seldom went to the kitchen these days, but he did the following day to ensure Ivy had made it to her employment without problem.

  Upon entering the kitchen, he found a crew of kitchen maids and a “retired” guard Errol recognized, but the man hadn’t been in his regiment, so Errol hadn’t considered where they had assigned him. Another man, who was missing three fingers from his left hand, peeled potatoes. A young man with a bandage over his eyes stirred a pot. Errol had never considered what the military did with the soldiers who were injured in the line of duty. It appeared as if many ended up here.

  Errol only saw three women present. They sat in silence peeling potatoes. None looked like the maiden from the night before. Their gray uniforms were identical. White caps hid their hair so thoroughly he couldn’t tell what color they hid.

  Errol only recognized Ivy when the woman looked at him and stood. Her eyes were wide with fear. Something about the amber of her eyes reminded him of a lizard. The day before he’d thought she might have mottled scales, but he could now see the colors were fading bruises on her hands and neck. Her skin remained a jaundiced yellow dotted with green. It was difficult to tell for certain, but her hair seemed more fuchsia than dark mahogany now that it was clean.

  “Good day to you, Ivy,” he said. “I thought I’d ask how you are faring.”

  She hugged the potato to her chest as though he might steal it. She ducked her chin down.

  The other two maids watched with open curiosity.

  “He asked you a question, lass,” one said. “If you don’t answer, he’s going to think that doctor didn’t fix your tongue at all.”

  “I’m fine,” she said.

  He noticed how she gripped the knife, her knuckles bone white.

  “Were the quarters adequate?” he asked.

  She nodded and continued to stare at him.

  He stood there, uncertain whether there was more to say.

  “Oi!” Grimback, the head cook called. “You might be big man out there, Captain Errol, but this is my crew, and you’re distracting them. Be on your way.”

  Errol glanced back at Ivy. She retreated a step.

  “If there’s anything you require, you may ask any of the men, and they will show you to my office.” Errol gave a polite bow and left.

  Grimback later told Errol Ivy broke three plates in the kitchen that day. He threatened to dock her pay. Errol paid for the broken plates himself. He heard no more about it and assumed there were no more incidents.

  Later that week, Errol was busy instructing new recruits when Sergeant Norris fetched him.

  “Captain Errol, come quick. It’s Ivy. She’s having a fit.” Even after serving in the royal guard for just over twenty years, Norris could have passed for a boy of sixteen with her slim build and youthful face.

  “Where?” he asked.

  Norris ran a hand over her short blonde hair, cropped like a young man’s. “Outside the mess hall. I think she’s afraid she’s going to be fired for breaking another plate.”

  “Oh fie!” He cursed under his breath.

  She hadn’t even made it through the week. Attending to his new charge was the last thing he needed added to his plate. He hadn’t asked for this responsibility. Now he was stuck with one more duty.

  * * *

  Errol found Ivy hugging her knees to her chest where she’d hidden in the hall. Another scullery maid sat beside her talking quietly. The murmur of diners came from the mess hall, where the first shift of soldiers ate their midday meal.

  Errol crouched beside her. “Don’t worry about breaking a dish. It happens to everyone from time to time.”

  Ivy flinched at the sight of him.

  He tried to smile, but it felt unnatural on his face. “I’ve broken my fair share of dishes over the years.”

  She didn’t appear any less startled.

  “You aren’t in trouble.” He placed a hand on her arm. “I’ll talk to the cook. I’ll make sure everything is fine. All right?”

  She shook her head and squirmed back from him.

  The other maid hauled herself to her feet. “It wasn’t completely her fault. If one of the men hadn’t hit her as she was pouring ale into his cup, it wouldnae have spooked her.”

  “Are you hurt?” Errol asked Ivy.

  She dropped her head onto her knees and didn’t answer.

  “She’s fine. She just needs to grow a thicker skin is all,” the other maid said.

  Errol stood, directing his question to the kitchen maid. “Why did someone hit her? For dropping a plate?”

  The maid rolled her eyes. “It werenae like that none.” She slapped herself on the rump. “He smacked her like that is all. He thought he was being funny.” She grimaced. “You know what arses men can be.”

  Indeed, he did. “Who? Which of the men? One in my troop?” Errol demanded.

  “I couldn’t say. Might have been any of them.” She hurried off.

  “Show me which of the men behaved so ungentlemanly.” Errol didn’t realize how he barked out his words as though he were giving one of his men orders until Ivy flinched.

  He went on more softly. “It isn’t permissible to allow any man to hit you, even in jest. Nor do I allow ungentlemanly conduct from those under my command.”

  Ivy swallowed and wiped her tears. She used the handkerchief Elric-Atherius had handed him to give to her days before.

  Her voice was so high and quivering, he could barely understand her. “Dayna was right. I need a thicker skin. You needn’t trouble yourself over me.”

  “You live in the Silver Court now. We are not barbarians like the harpies in the Raven Court. I do not tolerate disrespectful conduct, nor will you.” He lifted her to her feet. “You will show me who touched you, and he will be given a fitting consequence. He will not dare retaliate, as he will be discharged from the king’s royal guard if he should defy my orders.” He took her by the elbow and guided her into the mess hall.

  She trembled under his touch. He loathed the Raven Court more than ever, not just for what they’d done to his sister, but what they did to their subjects. Ivy’s ill treatment was likely to be a common experience for slaves of the Raven Queen. He would prove to her the Silver Court was superior to what she’d experienced in the past.

  Ivy’s gaze darted about the room as Errol guided her inside. He didn’t have to demand who the culprit was. Her eyes showed him well enough when they fell on a boisterous young r
ecruit. He wasn’t one of Errol’s men, but that mattered little.

  Errol marched up to the man, Ivy in tow. He had no doubt he was in the correct place from the bits of broken plate and food scattered on the floor next to the table. A pitcher lay in a puddle of amber ale. He could see she had been pouring it when he’d slapped her on the behind.

  “Attention, soldier,” Errol shouted.

  Ivy squirmed away from him, retreating a few paces away.

  The men at the table rose as best as they could, considering they were seated on a bench and clambering out was an awkward affair. Errol felt no pity for them.

  The man in question lazily rose.

  “Name and rank,” Errol said.

  “Private Bodil . . . sir.” He paused on the last word, his tone insolent.

  Errol disliked him already. “Who is your commanding officer?”

  “Captain Helga . . . sir.”

  Errol took note of that. He would be having words with Helga later.

  “Your conduct today makes your entire unit look bad and disgraces the name of the honorable court you serve.” Errol shouted in the young man’s face. The young man twitched.

  The other soldiers around him wisely edged back.

  “My conduct, sir? I don’t understand. What did I do wrong?” Bodil asked.

  “Was it not you who caused a maid serving ale to break a plate?” Errol demanded.

  Bodil shifted from foot to foot uneasily. “It wasn’t my fault she dropped that pitcher and set plates flying.”

  “Did you not touch her in an inappropriate manner and startle her? Or have I mistaken you for some other cretin who slaps maids on the rump without being given invitation to do so.”

  The young man’s face turned pink. “I didn’t do anything wrong. All the lads do that to maids, and none of the others seem to mind.”

  Fury blazed in Errol. He remembered that his sister had once told him how vexing some men could be, inviting themselves to grope and take liberties. Alma had punched more than one lecherous soldier in her day. He had thought things might have changed since that time.