All Good Things

by Emma Newman

  She took him through to the games room. Boxes were stacked everywhere they could fit, even on top of the billiard table, with little walkways between them.

  “What’s all this stuff?” asked the gargoyle.

  “I started planning it after Sam and I agreed to go with Beatrice’s plan. The bigger boxes are for the staff who work in the Nether, the medium-sized ones are for the women in the Great Families, and the smallest are for the men. They contain a sort of emergency pack for life in Mundanus, scaled according to need. Now we’ve got all those files from the Agency, all we need to do is label them up so they can be delivered to the anchor properties when the time comes. Sam’s staff helped put them together—I just gave them a list—and Des has put the names and addresses into a database for me so all the labels are printed. We just need to check each box and stick them on.”

  The gargoyle sniffed at a couple. “So do the men get the smallest ones because they’re evil bastards who don’t deserve anything?”

  Cathy smirked. “They have the least need. Practically all of them have substantial mundane wealth. But their wives won’t have anything. In their boxes I’ve put in ways to get to a safe house if they want to leave their husbands. Sam has apartments that are protected from the Fae already. If a woman leaves her husband and is in danger of being pursued, I’ll ward her apartment against him. If I work out how to, that is. I’m not sure Beatrice will be very helpful with that, or even if she’s coming back here to teach me again.”

  “These books I’ve brought you from Petra will help,” Max said, putting the suitcase down.

  “Yeah, I do appreciate that, thanks. It’s all early days, and there’s still a lot to do, but it’s a start.” She had to be positive. Otherwise the sheer scale of what they were involved in would overwhelm her.

  The gargoyle found a spot under the billiard table to curl up in whilst Cathy handed a sheet of printed labels to Max and showed him the list of items to check in each box.

  “Beatrice hasn’t been around for days,” Cathy said after a little while, uncomfortable with the silence. “I wonder what she’s up to.”

  “Lord Iron gave her the information she wanted,” Max said. “If that was all she needed, I suspect she returned to the tower.”

  “What tower? Where?”

  “The Kingdom of Essex,” Max replied. “It belonged to the former Sorcerer. Her brother, we think. The only route to it that I know of is through the Camden Chapter Master’s office.”

  “I wonder if that’s where Sam went,” Cathy said. “It’s not like him to go somewhere without—” The floor pitched beneath her and she slapped her hand against the wall to steady herself. All thoughts were pushed aside by a single dominant thought: Beatrice is going to kill me. She knew it, with as much certainty as if Beatrice were standing there about to plunge a knife into her heart.

  “Cathy?”

  “Beatrice is going to kill me,” she whispered. “The oath…she said I’d know when she was going to betray me. I don’t know how she’s planning to do it, but she’s started working the magic, whatever it is.”

  “We’ll find her before she finishes it,” the gargoyle growled.

  She thought of the day Max and the gargoyle first arrived, asking for Beatrice to be handed over. She’d decided to not tell Beatrice that one of the Sorcerers was still alive. Was that enough to constitute betrayal in Beatrice’s eyes? Was it because she’d placed Max and the gargoyle’s safety above that of her tutor? Cathy had been so caught up in her father’s death and getting to Tom as soon as she could, then going to the Agency and exposing the Irises, that she hadn’t really stopped to think about the consequences. Besides, hadn’t she brought Max onside? Maybe that wasn’t enough for Beatrice. Or maybe it had nothing to do with that at all. Beatrice had everything she needed, and a fledgling Sorcerer was not one of them. Killing her might simply be a matter of tying up loose ends.

  Pulling out her mobile with shaking hands, she tried to call Sam but it went straight to answerphone again. Was he with Beatrice? Did he know what she was doing? Max called Des, but he didn’t know where Sam was either. “I’m not going to sit around waiting to die!” she said to Max, tossing the phone onto one of the boxes in frustration. “Can you take me to that tower?” She looked under the billiard table, wondering why the gargoyle hadn’t said anything, but it was gone. “Where’s the gargoyle?”

  “It’s by the gatehouse,” he said, looking distant. “Looking in the hedge.” He frowned. “I was paying attention to you; I didn’t notice.”

  They went out into the hall to find the front door open and his coat in a heap on the floor. Max picked it up and checked the pockets. “The gargoyle took the Opener.”

  “What? Where is he going?”

  Max’s frown deepened. “The gargoyle has found the tracker, the one Rupert made. It’s going to kill Beatrice before she kills you.”

  24

  Will looked down at his former patron, seeing the top of the Fae’s head for the first time as Iris was knelt before him. It was a petty thing, an indulgence, but Will savoured the moment. He was at the top of the ladder he’d talked to Cathy about on the night of their marriage.

  Was Iris frightened, as he had once been?

  He hoped so.

  “Where is Sophia?”

  “In my domain, your majesty. Unharmed.”

  “Did you take her memory of me?”

  “No, your majesty. I made it more powerful.”

  Will gripped the arms of the throne. “To make her suffer?”

  “To make her talk about you and draw pictures of you. And to miss you all the more. A gentle suffering.”

  “Bring her to me, unharmed, as she was when she arrived with my father.”

  “As you wish, your majesty.” Iris snapped his fingers and one of his faeries popped into existence at his shoulder. He whispered to it and it flew out of one of the open windows. Will had opened all of them, needing to feel the breeze to push away the sense of being closed in. Lord Dianthus, the previous king, seemed to understand and a look had passed between him and Lady Orchid. They knew what it was like to wear the crown. How it pressed him into the throne.

  Will shrugged the sensation off. If he dwelt upon it, it worsened. There were better things to focus upon. He tried not to think of how happy Dianthus and Orchid were when they left the castle.

  Iris kept his head bowed, still on one knee, and Will knew he was literally unable to look up at him without permission. Delight and disgust warred within him. He didn’t want to be like the Fae, having seen the horrors they were capable of. He had to rise above it and be a true king, as he’d always daydreamed about when he was a boy. The charming prince had held no interest for him in the stories. They did nothing but marry princesses and know that one day, they would be king. And the kings in those stories were just as dissatisfying: portly fathers who either loved their daughters too much or ate too much or set impossible tasks for lovers. Were there no young kings in these tales? Why were there no dynamic princes that took the throne for themselves while they had youth enough to enjoy it? He smiled. He was that king now. And once Sophia was safe, he would forge the rest of his court in the way he saw fit, once his queen was at his side.

  There was a shower of iris petals and Sophia appeared. She was sitting cross-legged next to Iris surrounded by a circle of iris flowers that withered and faded to sparkling dust in moments. She looked tired but healthy. “Will-yum!”

  He opened his arms to her and she ran into his embrace as Iris’s faerie returned to its master. Will scooped her up, held her close, and silently vowed that he would never let another person take her from him again. Once she’d covered his cheeks in kisses, she wriggled until she was sitting on his lap with his arms wrapped around her, which she held tight. She looked down at Iris and then up at Will. “Are you the King now, Will-yum?”

  “I am.”

  “So am I a princess?”

  “If you want to be, once you’ve grown up,�
� he said, but he had no intention of placing that crown on her head until she was older, and perhaps never at all. He saw no reason to imprison her in Exilium.

  “I do want to be. Does that mean I can shoot lasers from my eyes now?”

  “No, darling.”

  “But I can still be an ark-leagist—”

  “Archaeologist, darling.”

  “But I can still be an archaeologist and build bridges for people’s cars?”

  “If that’s what you want to do, my darling, you can. It’s all rather new, so we’ll have to see. Now, tell me, was Iris there kind to you?”

  She frowned at Iris. “He wouldn’t let me see you. He was a poopy pants and I don’t like him.”

  “Did he hurt you?”

  She shook her head. “He gave me magic paper and pencils. And cakes that tasted like clouds. And when I cried, he sent the faerie and it made me laugh. But he didn’t cuddle me. Nobody did. It was horrible. Where’s Uncle Vincent?”

  “Do you want to see him?”

  She nodded. “Yes. I want to go home. And I want Cathy too.”

  “Cathy will be here soon, darling. I have something else I need to do first.”

  “Is this your castle?” When he nodded, she grinned. “Can I explore it? I want to be an explorer too. I could make a map!”

  He was glad that he’d already had a quick look around the ground floor to check that it was safe for Sophia and also to keep Iris waiting. He’d freed the slaves, though he had no idea what to do with the poor souls. They’d been there so long they had no homes or family to return to in Mundanus. At least Sophia wouldn’t see them. “Are you happy for the faerie to go with you? The one that made you laugh?” When she nodded and smiled at Iris’s faerie, Will pointed at it. “You’ll give her pencils and paper, and stay with her as she explores. You will make sure no harm comes to her.” The faerie nodded. Satisfied, Will kissed Sophia’s forehead. “Darling, can you make me a map of the ground floor? There are so many rooms we might get lost without one.”

  Filled with purpose, Sophia slid from his lap, gave him a last kiss on the cheek, and ran out of the throne room, the faerie flying at her shoulder. Once the door was closed and he was alone with Iris, Will took a moment to let his relief subside so he could think clearly. Before he decided what to do about his former patron, he needed some answers.

  “Why did you make the Patroon marry me to Cathy?”

  “Because she is rebellious, your majesty.”

  “And that…substance you pulled from my mother, when she confessed in your domain, was that…rebellion?”

  “Yes. Extracted in a form I could consume.”

  “And you thought our child would make more, somehow?”

  Iris shook his head, still bowed, still looking at the floor. “I expected nothing from the child, your majesty, aside from the possibility that having such a mother could create an interesting rebel in time. I wasn’t prepared to wait that long.”

  Will struggled to manage his anger. All of the pressure, all of the conflict between him and Cathy, all the terrible things he’d done to try to make her acquiesce to his patron’s desire for them to have a child and Iris wasn’t even interested in it? “Then why make the demand?” he shouted, and Iris visibly flinched.

  “Because I knew you would love the child so much that when I asked you to give it to me so I could kill it, you would finally rebel against me.”

  The soaring rush of power caused by that flinch evaporated. “Are you seriously telling me that you put all that pressure on us just to force me into disobedience?”

  “Yes. You were the first Iris child in so long that showed the potential to give me what I needed. You hid it well, always the dutiful son, but I saw moments of doubt and glimpses of anger. Insisting on a union with the Poppy woman was my plan to…infect you with her ideals and give you a taste of standing up to those who control you, as she had. I pressured her to be the antithesis of her true self in the hope she would try to turn you. Then she left, so I could only pressure you. Then when your father produced the bastard, I hoped to use her instead, but your self-control was too strong.”

  “My self-control is the only thing stopping me from smearing you across this floor!” Will yelled, and Iris twitched with fear. “And the way you’ve always treated my family…the way you controlled us…that was just to make us rebel?”

  “Yes. But they were all too weak.”

  “They were terrified of you!” Will’s voice rang off the walls and windows. “You…disgusting creature! You made so many suffer, kept us in fear…made me do terrible things. I killed a man for you! More than one for the sake of the family. And it was all just…meaningless?”

  “No, your majesty, your actions when you were mine pleased me greatly!”

  “And yet you cast me out and did nothing to defend my family when we needed you.”

  “There was nothing to be done in Aquae Sulis. Your father failed. As for you, I decided that a few months of suffering out in the cold might give you some of the fire your wife has. Then when I brought you back, helped you rise again, you might have been strong enough to—”

  “Enough!” Will shouted. He closed his eyes, imagining so many ways to make Iris suffer, all so easy with the power he now had. But he wasn’t satisfied yet. “Why did you need me to rebel? Why did you take that from my mother?”

  “I needed it to resist the Prince, your majesty. It was the only way I could fortify my will enough to challenge him. Your father has been bringing me rebellious mortals, giving me enough to plot and remember my plan. I needed something pure, something from one of mine, something potent enough to demand he give back my love’s heart so I might find her again, and restore her.”

  All of that suffering, the mortals stolen, his own family terrorised…all for love? Will shook his head, appalled. “You selfish bastard,” he spat. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the lock of hair he’d taken from Petra. Perhaps “taking her heart” was only a figurative expression of stealing her love and her memory of herself. “Look at this. Is it familiar?”

  Iris looked up for the first time since he’d arrived at the palace. “It could be hers, your majesty, but I need to touch it, to be certain.” Will tossed it to him and Iris sniffed the lock of hair. Then with an expression of frantic hope he pulled out a strand and sucked it like spaghetti. “It’s hers!” he cried, with such joy Will barely recognised his voice. “Where is she? How did you get this?”

  “Do you forget your place?” Will said in a low voice, and Iris dropped to both knees and lowered his forehead to the floor. Words alone did that to Iris, such was the power he now had. It made Will shudder with both apprehension and delight. He wasn’t sure the words had been entirely his, but he was so angry, he wasn’t exactly watching what he said. Then he realised how much of his life he’d spent worrying about what he was going to say and how he said it. All because of the creature cowering before him. “Why didn’t you tell me about her? Why torment so many when I could have found her for you?”

  “I was cursed,” Iris said, an unfamiliar quiver in his voice. “I could not speak her name. I could not tell another soul about her, let alone ask for her to be found.”

  Will leaned forwards. “Why did the Prince take her from you?”

  “When the worlds were split, we were forced to abandon the mortals we favoured. Several of us did not. The Prince was forced to give up his favourites when he took the crown and it made him bitter. There was nowhere for him to hide them, not as Prince. When he discovered I had hidden my love and still enjoyed her company, his jealousy was unbridled. He came to my domain and stole her heart, forcing me to watch as she forgot me. He took her away and then returned without her, gloating that I’d never find her. He cursed me and for the hundreds of years since that day he took every opportunity to remind me of my loss.”

  Will looked out of the window at the blue sky and fluffy white clouds. Always a perfect summer’s day here, always beautiful. Always lonely
. He had Sophia, soon he would have Cathy. The thought of being trapped in Exilium with no one to love—and be loved by—made him shiver. But did Petra feel the same way about Iris? If he reunited them, would he be repeating the same mistakes he was trying to put behind him?

  “Where is her heart?”

  “In this very palace, your majesty. In the former Prince’s chambers, I imagine.”

  Will thought of Petra, lost and alone in that hotel. He had to restore her and make something good come of this mess. He didn’t know which room it was, and wasn’t prepared to admit that in front of Iris. Then he remembered the faerie that had spoken to him before, the one dressed in oak leaves. Could he command one of them, even though he wasn’t a Fae?

  Experimentally he snapped his fingers, wishing one would come to him. With a small pop, one appeared. “Take us to the former Prince’s chamber,” he said, and the faerie bowed and flitted off towards the doors. “Come with me, Iris,” Will said.

  The faerie led them up the wide staircase and Will remembered the first day at Lancaster House, climbing the stairs with Cathy, trying to see the grand property as his home. Iris walked behind him in silence, several steps back.

  The Prince’s chambers were larger than several of the rooms in Lancaster House put together. The bed was huge and yet Will had the distinct impression it had never been slept in. Did the Fae sleep? Why have a bed if they didn’t? There was so much he didn’t know about the creatures he now ruled over. He’d have time enough to learn. “Leave us,” Will said to the faerie, and it flew off.

  Iris was staring at the far side of the room and Will followed his gaze. There was a stone pedestal with a small glass case resting on top. Something inside glittered in the sunlight streaming through the windows. As Will approached it, he could see it looked like an actual heart, something he’d only ever seen in a mundane book. It seemed to be made of pure ruby covered in something that reminded him of frost on a winter’s morning.

  Iris followed him and Will appreciated the power of the crown. Surely Iris wanted to rush over there and smash the case?