All Good Things

by Emma Newman

  It was one thing to speak to her brother in private, another thing entirely to face the rest of her family. And while she was confident the ward could protect her from Lord Poppy, if he saw her, there was nothing to stop him from ordering one of the family to hold her for Iris. Knowing Poppy, it would be Tom. She couldn’t bear the thought of putting him through anything more than he’d have to face already. “I can’t risk it, Tom. It wouldn’t be safe, for me or for you, if Poppy decided to get involved.”

  He tried to hide his disappointment. “I understand. Lucy will be there.” He frowned. “And the Irises, no doubt. It will be so hard seeing George Iris. I think the pressure from him pushed Father over the edge. And now he’s declared himself as Duke, apparently. He’s behaving despicably.”

  “Well, he’s an Iris,” Cathy said. “It’s what they’re good at. Sorry. That sounded flippant. What do you want to do?”

  “I’m not going to let them get away with it,” Tom said. “And I’m not going to protect Will either. But I wanted to speak to you first before I work out what to do. I need to know if you want to come back. Not to the Irises. To the Papavers.”

  “No. I’m not coming back to the Nether at all.” Again she felt the tug to tell him it might all change soon anyway, and just as quickly, she suppressed it.

  “I won’t pull any punches when it comes to Will, then. Figuratively speaking, of course.”

  “Don’t. He deserves all the figurative punches you can throw at him.” And worse, she thought. She’d been stupid to tell him of her mother’s plans, but it was the height of betrayal for him to use that knowledge. “Actually, Tom, I’m not just happy for you to take him down. I want to be part of it. If the Irises stole the deeds they must have forged the signatures. I have a friend who will be able to help me prove that. If you can guarantee an evening when the Irises won’t be at home, I can make that happen.”

  His concerned frown was both adorable and frustrating. “But Cat, you shouldn’t get involved in this. The Irises will—”

  “Don’t worry about me.” She found a discarded envelope on the coffee table and grabbed a nearby pencil. “This is my phone number. Don’t give it to another soul. Get George Iris out of the house for an evening and I’ll get your proof. Then you can take them down. Deal?”

  He nodded. “Deal.”

  Cathy kissed Tom’s cheek. “Thank you for asking me first. And for what it’s worth, you were already a better man than Father. I think you might be one of the best.”

  They embraced. “I’ll do everything I can to help you,” he whispered. “Let me get this nonsense with George Iris resolved, then we’ll see about getting your marriage annulled. There must be a way.”

  “Don’t worry about me,” Cathy said, holding him tight. “I’m sorry I can’t be at the funeral. I love you.”

  His embrace tightened. “I love you too, Cat. We’ll get through this. I’ll be in touch soon.”

  14

  After an appalling night’s sleep, washing his face had done little to make Will feel better. He patted his face dry, tried to stretch out the pain across his shoulders, and let the towel fall to the dressing room floor.

  The day stretched ahead of him, filled with worry and empty of hope. Now there were only servants in the house, and the thought of the vacant nursery wing made his eyes sting. Uncle Vincent had been summoned soon after Will had been returned home, and he had not come back. The anger was the most difficult to manage. After everything he’d done for his father, Sophia was gone, his uncle was no doubt facing Lord Iris’s wrath, and his mother…well, he had no idea what state she was in now. All because his father had refused to find another solution.

  What could he do now? Out of all the people in his life, the two he’d been most desperate to keep safe were beyond his reach.

  He was out of ideas. Cathy ignored his attempts to communicate and he’d exhausted every mundane and magical means of reaching her, short of hiring an aeroplane and having a message scrawled in the sky above that bastard’s house.

  It was just a matter of time before Lord Iris’s patience ran out. If only he could understand what lay beneath his patron’s demands. All night he’d lain awake, staring at the ceiling, trying to work it out. If Iris really had pulled out the disobedience, somehow made manifest, from his mother, why not do the same to Cathy? He’d said that Mother would be incapable of breaking a vow again. Did he want Cathy to be even more rebellious before taking it from her? Or was he unable to do that, with her being born a Poppy? Was that why Iris was obsessed with getting a child from them? It would have Iris blood, but even if Iris was willing to wait until their child grew, there was no guarantee it would be anything other than a diligent Iris, too terrified of their patron to dare emulate their disobedient mother. Something about it didn’t add up.

  Will was certain it all had something to do with someone Lord Iris had lost. He remembered the intensity with which his patron had urged him to find Cathy. What had he said? Something about not finding her leaving him ghostlike…Who could it have been?

  He had half a mind to contact Dame Iris. Eleanor was well disposed towards him, and knew Lord Iron and Cathy. Perhaps she could act as an intermediary. And she would know more about their patron’s past. He needed to know more.

  A quick wash wouldn’t do. He summoned his valet and once he was shaved and dressed properly, he felt marginally better.

  He went to the study to pen a note to the Dame when a tapping sound made him pause. Will looked at the window, saw no one was there, then listened again. It sounded like it was coming from the cheval mirror, hidden beneath the silk.

  Resting the pen on his desk, Will closed his eyes, fearing the worst. Then he remembered that Lord Iris would not send a faerie to knock politely. He would summon him, violently. Composing himself with a few flexes of his fingers, Will went over to the mirror and pulled the silk away.

  Exilium was on the other side of the glass, a tiny faerie pressing its nose against it. Its tunic was made of acorn leaves, and Will’s heart flipped unpleasantly in his chest. Which patron’s faerie would wear—“William Reticulata-Iris!” the faerie cheered. “You’re the one? How interesting! You are such a lucky mortal! The Princess has decided to bless you with a visit. I see you are adequately attired. Good!”

  Without even giving Will the chance to respond, the faerie flew off, away from the glass. It was then that Will noticed the castle in the distance, a huge, white-stoned palace with turrets that looked straight out of one of Sophia’s fairytale picture books.

  The Princess? His mouth went dry at the thought of meeting the Fae whose majesty had been so devastating, even when only witnessed secondhand. Whatever she wanted with him, he knew he would be struck dumb by the magic she wielded unless he took precautions. Noting that the faerie was now out of sight, he dashed to his desk and rummaged through the drawers. In the bottom one he found a ring that gave clarity of thought, something Tate had made for him to wear when dealing with difficult meetings. He had just enough to time to put it on and dart back in front of the mirror before the Princess came into view.

  It looked like she was walking at normal speed when she got closer, yet somehow she had covered the distance between the palace and the glass in moments. Her green eyes glittered and her lips were deep pink, forming a smile that Will found himself reflecting before he realised it.

  Will dropped to one knee, forcing himself to look down and gather himself back together again before her majesty unravelled him completely. Rather than making it easier to think in her presence, it seemed that the ring merely made him all the more aware of how her beauty struck him dumb. He’d never experienced anything like it. No Charm, no magic he’d ever fallen victim to before was even close to the impact hers was having on him.

  Looking away helped. He readied himself for whatever she had to say; then a touch of the top of his head startled him so much he almost lost his balance. He looked up to see that she had reached through the glass as if it were a
film of water to touch his hair and was now stepping into his study.

  Her gown, cut in a medieval style, was a shimmering dark green, her cloak made of thousands of oak leaves, matching the ones that formed her royal circlet. When her touch left his head he felt a shiver and feared she had placed a Charm on him, but he didn’t feel any different. Not that that was any sort of guarantee. In fact, he felt better able to focus his thoughts. Perhaps the ring was starting to work.

  “Rise, mortal,” she commanded, and he did so, turning to see her moving towards the fireplace as if drawn by the flames. The rest of his study seemed to fade in her presence, as if she were the only real thing present, the difference in the vibrancy of colour as striking as that of a fresh bud resting against old newspaper. He found himself worrying about whether she liked what she saw, whether she judged him dull and disinteresting from the way her eyes skimmed over his possessions for only the briefest moments.

  For the first time, Will had no idea how to treat his guest. Should he offer her a drink? Surely not? How could the Princess of the Fae be satisfied by anything in the tantalus? The thought of ringing for tea was absurd, but equally the thought of not offering any refreshment at all was appalling.

  “May I offer you any refreshments, your Royal Highness?”

  She waved away the offer with a flick of the wrist and he breathed again. He watched the cloak, the leaves seeming to cling to each other rather than being sewn to any fabric, as she went to stand near the hearth. The fire seemed to fascinate her more than anything else in the room, including him.

  “You were in Exilium recently,” she said. Her voice was so soft, he found himself moving closer. “You were distressed.”

  When she turned to look at him he focused his gaze on the rug between them, deferent, and not a little defensive too. He feared that if he let her look deeply into his eyes, she would tease out his soul. Looking away helped him to think. “I am flattered that someone such as I could be noticed by you, your Royal Highness.”

  “Why were you upset?”

  “It is a trivial matter that could not possibly be of any interest to someone of your majesty,” he said, hating the fawning tone of his voice.

  “You were looking for someone. You left Exilium before I could help you.”

  He had the distinct impression that her idea of helping him would not match his own. “I thank you most humbly for your concern, your Royal Highness. However, I discovered the whereabouts of the one I sought.”

  “Yet you did not return more happy than when you arrived.”

  “I am the Duke of Londinium, your Royal Highness. There are many burdens upon my shoulders.” Your visit is one of them, he thought to himself. What does she want with me?

  “The Duke of Londinium, yes, but I care little for that. I care more about the fact that when I cast a Charm to find the person who knows a particular secret I seek, it led me to you. It led to Iris too, of course, but he is so very dull, and besides, I would much rather you tell me than him. You have such a pretty face.”

  Will recalled the art exhibition. Was that the reason for the visit? He kept his mouth shut and his eyes fixed on the rug, hoping he was wrong.

  “Lord Poppy entered a most interesting painting into an exhibition recently. Of the Royal Crescent in Aquae Sulis.” She gasped. “Oh! You know of it! I can smell the fear radiating from you!” She stepped away from the fire, coming closer, the scent of summer flowers coming with her. “It was called The Secret. Did you paint it?”

  “No, your Royal Highness, I did not. And I have no idea who did.”

  “But you have seen it. Look at me!”

  Steeling himself, Will looked up and saw the excited flush across her cheeks. “I am aware of the painting, your Royal Highness,” he said, hearing the quiver in his voice.

  “Tell me what the secret is, the one hidden in the painting. I must know!”

  His mouth opened and for an awful moment he almost told her, without even thinking about it. Then he remembered Sophia, how she was already at the mercy of Lord Iris. What if the Princess took an interest in her too? It was clear that the Fae were powerless to refuse her. If she took Sophia from Iris, there would be no hope of getting his sister back ever again. He’d never be able to embrace her and tell her that it was all over and there was no need to be afraid.

  It was as if he’d been drunk and was suddenly, horribly sober. He still had to protect Sophia from this monster before him. “I am so sorry, your Royal Highness, but as a loyal Iris, I cannot tell you without the permission of my patron.”

  He felt her anger, as if the fire across the room had become an inferno, a heat across his face that made him shut his eyes and lean back. “You cannot refuse me!” she cried. “I am the Princess! No one may refuse me anything!”

  Will thought of Sophia, thought of her saying his name in that way of hers, of the tiny kisses she scattered across his cheek. He forced himself to open his eyes and to wear his most charming smile. “But, your Royal Highness, if I were to simply tell you the secret because you demand it, would I not steal the thrill of anticipation from you?”

  The glare that had made her face so terrifying melted away and she smiled again as if she’d never been angry in the entirety of her existence. “Oh, you are a Duke indeed. Such courage! You deny me what I want and dare to smile as you do it? What a creature you are!”

  “If I may be so bold, your Royal Highness, I prefer to think that instead of denying you something, I am instead giving you a gift. It must be so dull, having everyone give you exactly what you want the instant you desire it.”

  “Oh, it is, it is! But now I want both! Such sweet anticipation and yet the need to know is torture.”

  Will took another step back, masking his need for distance with a desire to sit down. He gestured towards the sofa but she shook her head, so he remained on his feet too, the arm and corner of the sofa now placed between them. “Then, may I humbly suggest a game?”

  She clapped her hands, reminding him sharply of Sophia in her delight. “I adore games!”

  “It seems to me that we both want to know a secret about my patron, though not the same one. I propose that we each take turns, trying to guess the secret we desire to know. We both must tell the truth, but only answer the question asked with yes or no. The person who guesses the secret first wins. The other must accept that they will not learn the other.” It was a game he’d played for hours and hours with Oliver Peonia on their Grand Tour. Will had the dreadful suspicion that the Princess would be better at it than his old friend.

  “Such delicious fun! Yes, we must both play and we must both accept the result. And when you lose, William Iris, I will take you as a slave. For I believe you would entertain me well in Exilium.”

  Will’s heart felt as if it had burst into his throat. “But, I have a duty to Londinium and my patron, your Royal Highness.”

  “Neither is as important as my happiness. I will go first because I am the Princess and that is the way it is always done. Is the secret related to the Royal Crescent?”

  “No.” At her frown, he added, “Your Royal Highness.” It did little to change her expression. “My turn. Has my patron lost someone he loved?”

  The frown was swept away by a look of sheer delight. “Oh! That secret!” She laughed. “I know all about that one! It’s one of my favourites. Yes. He has. Now…my question…is the secret related to a specific member of your family?”

  “Yes,” he replied, thinking more about his next question. Lord Iris clearly loved the one he’d lost. And he would never let anyone he loved far from his sight, not given how possessive the Fae were about their favourites. “Was Lord Iris’s love taken from him, against his will?”

  The Princess giggled. “Yes. How he wept! I’ve never seen such misery, it was wonderful! My brother—” She covered her mouth with her fingers. “Oh, I almost forgot myself. That’s the thing about secrets, especially the best ones. They have a life of their own. They fight for their freed
om.”

  So the Prince was involved? Yes, that would make sense. Will couldn’t imagine any of the Fae lords and ladies being able to trick Iris into giving someone up; he was too calculating for that. Could he leap to the conclusion that the Prince stole Lord Iris’s love, though?

  “Is the secret I seek connected to your immediate family, William?”

  His brief thrill at learning more than she had faded as he realised how close she was. “Yes,” he said. He had to gamble. A correct guess this soon wouldn’t give him enough information, but leaving it another round or two could be the end of him, and Sophia’s chances. He needed to learn enough to decide whether he could use the information to bargain with Iris for Sophia’s freedom. From the look on the Princess’s face when she spoke of this love of Lord Iris’s, Will suspected that she was actually desperate to tell him. The Fae were not like people, guarding a secret to protect the ones they loved, after all. Then he realised there was one thing he needed to know above all else. “Is the person whom Lord Iris loves, the one who was stolen from him, still alive?”

  The Princess bounced up and down, barely able to contain herself. “She is! All this time she’s been out of his reach in the one place he couldn’t find her! Oh, it is so exquisite a punishment! So beautifully cruel and perfect to hide her with his mortal enemy!”

  She covered her mouth again and he could see how she struggled not to tell him. He couldn’t push her too far, though. But then he realised he’d never defined the secret he needed to know! He laughed and bowed to her. “I win! That was what I needed to know! Lord Iris’s love is still alive. Thank you, your Royal Highness, for such an exciting game!”

  The look on her face was like a storm about to break, filling Will with a fear for his life. “But I always win!” she yelled. “I am the Princess and I win all the games!”

  She was like a spoiled brat, but with the power to kill him or worse. He dropped to one knee again, lowering his head. “But your Royal Highness, was the game not enjoyable? Did you not relish the opportunity to let that secret free after all this time?”