The Black King (Book 7)

by Kristine Kathryn Rusch

“So you hold to the Blind theory?” Gift asked.

  Bridge sighed. He had been thinking about that a great deal and come to no conclusions. “I’m not sure. She’s savvy, and she’s clearly had Visions before. My father went for years without a Vision. Perhaps that’s what’s happening to her, and she isn’t ready for it.”

  Gift nodded. It seemed he’d thought of those things as well.

  “No,” Lyndred said. “She’s Blind. I know it.”

  Gift didn’t even glance at her. “Have you ever experienced a personality change like this before?”

  “I didn’t know it was a change until you arrived. Up until that point, I thought the rumors I’d heard about her were wrong.”

  “But you interviewed the servants,” Gift said. “You tried to find out what happened.”

  Bridge shrugged. “It’s my method.”

  “Arianna is worried about me, about the Blood, and I’m worried about the same thing,” Gift said. “I could use an older and wiser council.”

  Lyndred glanced at her father. Bridge tried to ignore the feeling growing inside his chest. No one had ever considered him important before.

  “You’ve been around Rugad when he was Black King. Your father was being groomed to be Black King and so was your sister, my mother,” Gift said. “You’ve seen a lot more of the traditional Fey world than I have. You probably know more.”

  “I doubt that,” Bridge said.

  Gift tilted his head. He had the look of them—the ones who had the talent, the heritage and the charisma to be ruler of the Fey. “In all these years, you’ve done nothing to take the Black Throne for yourself. Why?”

  At last, the question. Bridge wouldn’t have stayed if Gift hadn’t asked it. Arianna had not asked it, which, Bridge suddenly realized, was strange given her paranoia.

  “I have a small Vision,” Bridge said. “It was clear from the time I was a young man that I would never compare to my sister.”

  “But it was my understanding that my mother didn’t come into her Vision until she came to Blue Isle.”

  “She was taller than me,” Bridge said, hoping to end the conversation there.

  Lyndred was watching him as if she hadn’t thought of these things either.

  “She could have come into a different kind of magick.” Gift was smart, just like the others. Smart and compassionate. Jewel had had compassion.

  Bridge smiled. “My sister was always a half-step better at everything than the rest of us were. She was more vibrant, more alive, and she commanded a loyalty even when we were children. The more I’ve watched this family, the more I realize that the best rulers command that loyalty, at least when they are young.”

  “When they are young?” Gift repeated. He missed nothing.

  “I think my grandfather commanded that loyalty for the first twenty years or more of his reign as Black King. Those warriors who were with him from the beginning would do anything for him. I think the years of rule and the harshness he used wore that charisma away, and in the later years he had to use force and intimidation instead of warmth.”

  “So did your father,” Gift said.

  Bridge started. He had forgotten that Gift had known his father. Gift had been a young boy when Rugar died here on Blue Isle. “I’m surprised you remember him.”

  “He stole me from my parents and would have raised me himself if he could,” Gift said. “Fortunately, he died before he had too great an effect.”

  Bridge stared at Gift. Was the difference between Gift and Arianna that slight? That one had been raised—however briefly—by a potential Black King and the other had been raised by an Islander. “Perhaps he had a positive effect.”

  “I doubt it.” Gift glanced at Lyndred.

  She looked fascinated by this conversation. Had Bridge never explained to her the twists and turns of the family? Probably not. He had tried hard not to think about his sister or his father or his grandfather. He only dealt with his brothers in very small doses.

  “So,” Gift said, “you’re not ambitious for yourself. But what about your daughter?”

  Bridge stiffened. This was the key question, and how he answered it determined his relationship with Gift. Strange that, after a few moments with this young man, he felt almost as eager as Lyndred to join this ship.

  “That’s not a fair question,” Lyndred said. “I’m an adult. I make my own choices—”

  “Of course I’m ambitious for her,” Bridge said, deliberately interrupting her. She stopped and caught her breath. Gift’s blue eyes focused on him, drawing him in. “I would be lying to you if I said I wasn’t.”

  Gift remained still. Bridge found he envied it. Lyndred was shifting her position. She was slightly out of Gift’s line of sight, and she was shaking her head, as if she didn’t want Bridge to continue.

  But he felt as if this man deserved his honesty. If Gift couldn’t accept what Bridge had to say, then they would go on their own way. If he did, though, they might be able to come up with a solution to a problem they both only vaguely understood.

  “I thought, when I was in Nye, that Arianna was taking the Fey down the wrong path. I knew you had gone to become a Shaman—and I believed that was what you were going to do. And I thought, after fifteen years, that maybe Arianna had tired of ruling the Empire. She had never left Blue Isle. She didn’t really know the lands she was in charge of. Some of her programs worked, but others were sowing seeds for great disasters, disasters I wasn’t sure she’d understand.”

  Gift still hadn’t moved. Bridge had his complete attention and it felt almost overwhelming.

  “At worst, I thought she’d want my advice. At best, I thought she would appreciate knowing there was someone else in the family who could take over the Black Throne and serve in the proper manner.”

  “Worst, best,” Gift said. “You were hoping for something in between.”

  “I was hoping that, with a little discussion, Arianna would step down and Lyndred would take her place.” There. He had been completely honest. And now Gift could toss him off the ship.

  “Daddy,” Lyndred said, sounding shocked.

  “You thought Arianna was a reasonable and logical ruler,” Gift said. “You thought appealing to that logic and reason would gain your daughter the Black Throne.”

  “Yes.”

  “And when you came, you found—what?”

  “A cold, demanding woman who was obsessed with keeping the Throne.”

  Gift nodded. “A cold, demanding, powerful woman. You waited for your chance and saw it when I came.”

  “No!” Lyndred said.

  “I’d be lying if I said I have lost my ambition for my daughter. But as you can tell, she’s not emotionally ready for any kind of responsibility.”

  “Daddy!”

  Gift looked at Lyndred for the first time. “You’re probably the only candidate for the Throne outside of my immediate family. You would need some training, but you would do all right.”

  She bit her lower lip and for the first time said nothing. Bridge smiled.

  “If we ally with each other,” Gift said, “we only make Arianna more paranoid.”

  “No,” Lyndred said. This time she sounded calmer. “She expects it.”

  “That worries me too,” Gift said.

  “Perhaps it’s a sign of her Vision returning,” Bridge said.

  “I hope so,” Gift said. “If I turn you away, what will you do?”

  “Attempt to go back to Nye I suppose,” Bridge said.

  Gift made a small noise in the back of his throat. Lyndred was watching him too closely. Bridge felt that same urge to keep an eye on him, to trust whatever he decided.

  “It took me half a year to get here,” Gift said. “And if I listen to Arianna...“

  Bridge found that “if” interesting.

  “...I will be unreachable in Leut. If you return to Galinas and something happens, then it will take months for the news to reach you.”

  “She won’t let us stay on
Blue Isle,” Lyndred said.

  “How will she stop us?” Gift asked.

  Bridge stared at him. Gift met his gaze. There was challenge in Gift’s eyes.

  “How long have you been thinking of this?” Bridge asked.

  “I don’t much like the idea, but I’m not willing to leave my home so soon. Arianna gave me two weeks. I’m going to use that time.” Gift clasped his hands behind his back. The gesture was like Arianna’s, only on Gift it seemed relaxed, without any military training behind it.

  Lyndred was watching them both, her dark eyes bright with excitement. She could feel Gift relenting, just like Bridge could.

  “If you’re going to stay with us,” Gift said, “you’ll have to be willing to do whatever I ask, and to take the same risks I do. If I find out that either of you have gone to Arianna, I’ll throw your possessions off the ship, and bar you from ever having contact with me or my people again. Is that clear?”

  “That’s not a very harsh punishment,” Lyndred said.

  Gift raised an eyebrow. “It depends on where I find out that you had contact with Arianna. If it’s in the middle of the Cardidas beside the Eyes of Roca, it’s a very harsh punishment.”

  “Oh,” Lyndred said.

  Bridge stifled a smile. His daughter would learn a lot from her cousin. She just might not like the lessons.

  “Make your choice now, because by tomorrow morning, I’m sure I’ll regret this.”

  “We’ll stay,” Bridge said. “I think this is an alliance that will be good for all of us.”

  Gift shook his head. “I hope you’re right.”

  TWENTY-FOUR

  MATT HAD BEEN too tired to think himself a prisoner. He had slept for most of the first day—awakened only to bathe, eat, and put on fresh Fey clothing—and then had slept through to the following morning. Only then did he realize that he had been in the same room for two days. He wasn’t locked in, but he wasn’t really free either. If he left, he would lose his opportunity to see Rugad.

  The Black Queen. He had to think of the man who had taken over Arianna as the Black Queen. A single slip and he would be forced to give up all the information he knew.

  It wasn’t until after dinner that the Black Queen was ready to see him. The pages made him leave his possessions behind, and then they led him outside the palace. They brought him back inside through another door, and led him through a maze of corridors until he entered a room where a fire blazed. It was a narrow room with tapestries on the window that showed scenes from Islander life. He recognized the history and the patterns in the furniture as well. This was all Islander heritage, even though everyone he had seen in the palace had been Fey.

  The two chairs before the fire were hand-embroidered into a repeating pattern. His mother had once made her living doing needlework for the palace. She had said that the work was designed not to be distinctive, and the patterns were never signed. He would have no way of telling if she had done of the work in this room.

  But the needlework represented her, and it almost felt as if she were in the room. He felt a stab of homesickness so profound it nearly doubled him over. He knew what his father would have thought of this mission. He had no idea what his mother would think.

  Now, faced with needlework that might have been hers, he was sorry she had learned about this mission from his brother. Alex had probably misrepresented the whole thing. If Alex had even bothered to tell her.

  Matt’s stomach clenched. The food he had eaten, good and unfamiliar, sat inside him like a lump. Now was not the time to be thinking of his family. Now was the time to prepare himself. He was about to meet the most evil Fey who ever lived. At least, that’s what his father used to say about Rugad. Coulter even seemed to believe it was true. And he wanted Matt to stop him.

  A door opened on the side. It startled Matt. He nearly knocked over the candle screen he’d been looking at, but he caught it with his right hand.

  “An interest in embroidery. How unusual.” That was Arianna’s voice. It sounded exactly like the stone woman he knew in Constant, but it was not her inflection. This woman spoke Islander as if Fey were her native tongue.

  Matt swallowed, then turned. He stood as straight as he could.

  The woman across from him looked something like the Arianna he had met and something like Sebastian. Only this one had blue eyes, and a prominent birthmark on her chin. She wasn’t beautiful, although she might once have been. There was a harshness in her face that lent it a stark quality, that made it almost seem bleak.

  Matt bowed.

  “Stand up, boy.” The Black Queen sounded both disgusted and amused. “You’re in Fey territory now. We don’t believe in false ceremony.”

  “S-Sorry,” Matt said as he straightened. His palms were clammy and his heart was racing. He had never been this nervous in his entire life.

  The Black Queen was tall and thin, dressed in clothes similar to the ones the Fey Domestics had given him: a strange leather vest and pants. Her hair was braided down her back. She was the most unfeminine woman he had ever seen.

  “I understand you’re an Enchanter.”

  “Yes.”

  “Prove it.”

  He extended his hand, and formed a ball of fire in the middle of it.

  The Black Queen looked at it and frowned. “Is that the best you can do?”

  “Of course not,” he said. “But we’re inside.”

  “Such caution. Is that the way they train Islander Enchanters? To be cautious?”

  She was trying to provoke him. He was tempted to set up a wall of flame between them or to smash the door behind him. Instead, he extinguished the fire, then scooped his right hand as if he were gathering air and lifted. Slowly.

  The Black Queen rose off the ground. She didn’t move and didn’t panic like many others would have done. She watched him, seemingly amused.

  From outside he heard a bang, and then the door opened. Several Fey guards poured into the room.

  “Stay at your posts!” the Black Queen snapped. She hadn’t even turned to look at them, but she had wanted Matt to know that they were there.

  The guards backed out. Matt held her up. His arm was growing tired, but he wasn’t going to let the tiredness defeat him.

  “All right,” she said after a moment. “You’ve proven your point. You can put me down.”

  He eased his hand down and she stepped forward as if she descended from a platform. She was obviously familiar with this kind of magick.

  “Impressive,” she said. “You’re strong and talented.”

  “Thank you.” He let his hand drop to his side.

  “But you are an Islander, by the look of you.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “An Islander, willing to serve a Fey Queen?”

  “I understood that you were Queen of Blue Isle too.”

  She smiled, but it didn’t reach those blue eyes. “It’s a minor title.”

  He took a deep breath. “I don’t think so.”

  “Presumptuous.” She came closer. “I like that. Tell me, why did you come here?”

  “I heard that you were in need of an Enchanter.”

  “I sent that call out months ago. I got no response.”

  “That’s because there are only a few of us on the Isle.”

  “A few?” She seemed interested. “How do you know?”

  “I sense the others,” he said. “I’ve met a few of them. The strongest ones are still children.”

  “And under the sway of Coulter?”

  Matt felt cold. “Yes. His school.”

  “You went there?”

  Matt shook his head. This was the only outright lie they agreed he would tell. “My father was Matthias.”

  “And this is supposed to mean something to me?”

  The disinterest in her tone stunned him. He hadn’t been prepared for her not to know who Matthias was. Arianna had said that Rugad would have her memories. “Matthias. The Fifty-first Rocaan. He nearly killed you wh
en he killed your mother.”

  She tilted her head, studying him. Her expression hadn’t changed, and he suddenly realized that she had known. She had been testing him. “You consider attempted murder a recommendation?”

  “No,” Matt said. “I meant it as to why I never went to Coulter’s school even though we were in the same city. My father forbade it.”

  All true, so far as it went.

  “And what does your father think of you serving a Fey?”

  “My father is dead,” Matt said.

  “Recently?”

  “Yes.” Matt was under instructions not to give a date if he could avoid it.

  “So you’re here to poison me in your father’s memory?”

  “No!” Matt couldn’t believe she was saying this. “I don’t think of you as Fey. You’re the Roca’s blood. I wouldn’t do anything to harm you.”

  “You see it as your duty to serve the Queen of Blue Isle?”

  “Yes.”

  “Even though she’s surrounded by Fey?”

  “Yes.”

  “And is half-Fey herself?”

  “Yes.”

  “Your father hated the Fey as I remember.”

  “He hated magick too, even though he had some,” Matt said. “I’m not my father.”

  “Then why did you mention him?”

  “You’d find out sooner or later.”

  She smiled and this time the look went to her eyes. It softened her face and almost made her seem like the Arianna he knew.

  “You’re a bright young man,” she said. “But the request for an Enchanter came from my Fey background. It is a Fey magick requirement, not an Islander one.”

  “Until the Fey came, we didn’t realize we had Enchanters among us,” Matt said.

  “Oh, yes you did,” the Black Queen said. “You killed them.”

  Matt shuddered. How could she—he—go from warm to cold so very fast? “Things have changed.”

  “Not really,” she said. “Fey and Islanders still mistrust each other. No one has forgotten we were at war fifteen short years ago.”

  “That’s my whole life,” Matt said.

  Her smile was small. “And I’m sure a boy raised by the former Rocaan would be completely unbiased in his response to the Fey. Quite a dilemma, isn’t it? You can’t tell me of any contact with Fey and you use your father as an excuse to justify your lack of contact with Coulter, the only source of magick knowledge in Constant. Yet you appear here, a full-fledged Enchanter. Enchanters are born, but the spells you have used are trained spells. Who helped you?”