by C. T. Adams
“We don’t plan on staying.”
The winged faerie’s face contorted with rage. “Such selfishness! I wouldn’t have believed a child of our king could ignore the needs of her people the way you do. But I won’t allow it. I challenge you to a duel.”
And there it was—the real reason Rodan had invited her. And cleverly done, too. “Duels are not allowed within the palace without the express permission of the king.”
“Then we will take it outside.” Leelee smiled, showing the sharp little teeth she’d inherited from her pixie relatives.
And that was the clever part. If they went outside there would be others waiting: lots of others. If Brianna defeated Leelee, another would challenge, and another, and another, until she wore down and someone managed to kill her.
“Clear the center of the room,” King Leu ordered. Servants appeared from where they’d been scattered to do his bidding. “Brianna, deal with this quickly if you would. I detest burnt food and the meal is to start shortly.”
“Of course, your majesty.” Brianna bowed. As she did she pulled a knife from one of her garters. With quick, deft movements she sliced through the silk panels at the front and back of her dress, shortening it from floor length to where it barely skimmed mid-thigh. She kicked off her shoes as well, for while they were sensible flats, she much preferred fighting barefoot. She kept one bit of the severed cloth, but handed the other to Kenneth, who’d appeared at her side. As the ranking member of the guard present it would be his duty to officiate.
“She’ll take to the air soon as she can,” he warned.
“I know. I’ll be fine.”
He gave Brianna a skeptical look. Flying Fae were notoriously difficult to fight. He had taught her that. But it really wasn’t a problem. Not anymore. She answered his unspoken question. “I’ve been practicing with Mei, in her various forms.”
Kenneth’s smile could have lit the very dungeons. “Good. Then let’s get this done. I like my meat rare, too.”
He left her side, stepping into the very center of the open space the servants had cleared. All of the guests to the party, the guards, and servants had gathered in a circle to watch. Raising his voice to be clearly heard by all Kenneth said, “Challenge has been given.” Leelee gave him the ritual bow of acknowledgment, but her avid eyes never left Brianna.
“And accepted.” Brianna bowed in turn.
“Your majesty?”
“Do it.”
Kenneth raised the strip of cloth torn from Brianna’s dress. “When the cloth hits the floor, you may begin.”
As he was speaking Leelee crouched, powerful leg muscles bunching. Brianna gathered her will as she estimated where her enemy’s leap would take her.
He dropped the cloth.
17
As Leelee leapt into the air she shouted a single word. A ball of fire the size of a basketball streaked from the tips of her fingers to explode on the ground where Brianna had stood a mere instant before. But Brianna was not there. She, too, had moved, dashing to the right. As she did she spoke a soft word and sent a wave of power into the air surrounding her flying enemy. For a split second it appeared that nothing had happened, that the spell had failed. Leelee’s crow of dark glee was cut short, however, when every light globe in her vicinity exploded with a sound like shattering glass and a flare of power so that the air was lit with a rainbow of colors, each as bright as the heart of a magnesium flare. Leelee threw up her arm to shield her streaming eyes, the spell she’d been intending to throw flying wide, to explode against the winter mural on the far wall.
It was exactly the move Brianna had been hoping for. Knowing the purpose of the spell she’d shielded her eyes from the worst of the light, so that now she could see clearly, her target a dark outline against the glare. With careful precision she threw the dagger in her hand, noting with satisfaction the meaty thunk of it burying itself to the hilt in Leelee’s exposed underarm.
Leelee shrieked in agony. Her wings beat once, twice, trying to remain airborne—each movement opening the wound further, sending a spray of arterial blood flying. She crumpled to the ground, catching herself with her knees and left arm—the right useless, her bright yellow skin dimming and taking on a grayish tone as blood spurted and pooled onto the floor beneath her.
Her eyes widened with shock, then narrowed. Brianna could see that her opponent was gathering her will for one last strike, determined to drag her enemy down with her into death.
Brianna didn’t wait for it, didn’t give Leelee the chance. She charged across the room in a blur of speed. Leelee tried to move, tried to prepare, but she was too slow, too weak from loss of blood. Brianna was on her in an instant, her fist slamming into the face of the fallen Fae before she could utter a sound.
Seconds later, Leelee was dead.
Brianna stood over the corpse and felt … very little. She was tired, certainly, the adrenaline draining from her system now that the battle was over was taking most of her energy with it. And while she would’ve expected to feel some satisfaction at having won the duel, she didn’t, not really. It was such a waste.
God how she hated Faerie politics.
“Well done.” Leu congratulated her as a trio of servants came scurrying up. The first carried a pitcher of water, with towels and washing cloths slung over his shoulder. The second held a crystal bowl: the third, soap and a mirror. All three were brownies, their wrinkled dark skin resembling the meat of some exotic nut, wide brown eyes dominating flat faces with only slits for breathing, rather than an actual nose.
“Thank you, Father.” Brianna turned to look at her reflection. She was a wreck. Leelee’s blood decorated her face and stained her torn dress. With the brownies’ help she would be able to clean off the worst of the mess until she was reasonably presentable, for while she would dearly love to go back to Abracham House, shower, and change—or better yet, home—that was not an option.
“Moash of the Doxies has asked to parley with you at your convenience. Perhaps you can meet with him after dinner?”
Brianna scrubbed at her face, careful to avoid smearing the makeup around her eyes. Meeting with Moash was the last thing she wanted to do, but while the king had phrased it as a request, Brianna knew her father well enough to know it wasn’t. “Of course, Father. Where is he staying?”
“He’s under house arrest in his usual guest quarters.”
Brianna dried herself with a towel, then returned it, nodding her thanks to the brownies who bowed in acknowledgment before scurrying away, their leaving perfectly coinciding with the arrival of the butler to announce dinner.
The king himself escorted Brianna to her seat, holding the chair for her and sliding it under her—this despite his rank, and hers. At the table Brianna found herself seated between Kenneth and her oldest brother, Eammon.
She turned to her oldest brother. “I’m surprised to see you here alone.”
“Ruala sends her regrets. Ilsa, our youngest, has an ear infection. It will only last a day or so, but she’s fussy with it.…”
“I understand. A sick child always wants its mother.” Brianna forced herself to smile at her half brother. “How old is Ilsa?”
“Only four, Stannis and Willis are seven; and Paria fourteen.”
“Four children? I think when I left you only had Paria.”
“We did. And while I’ve had other lovers, Ruala is the only woman who’s borne me children.” He paused before asking, “Have you had any children?”
“No, not yet.”
“Perhaps one of your human companions…” Eammon smiled when he said it, but there was a tension to his posture that told her his comment wasn’t as lighthearted as he was pretending it to be.
“As pleasant as that sounds, David exclusively prefers the company of other men.” She didn’t say anything about Nick. The thought of being intimate with him had undeniable appeal, but she didn’t know him well enough yet to want children with him.
“Then you are not deeply attache
d to them?”
That comment set off all sorts of alarm bells in her mind. Brianna chose her words carefully. “I wouldn’t say that. I did, after all, just fight a duel because of them.”
“And fought it well.” Eammon said it just a tad grudgingly. “But if they are not your intimate companions, surely you would consider having them stay here in Faerie. They’d have a good life here, as well you know.”
Brianna sighed, Eammon was Fae to the core, and royal. Nothing she could say would make him understand the deep-seated independence and need for freedom of so many of the humans she knew. Oh, there were plenty who wanted, even needed to be ruled if it came to that. But David was not one of them, and she’d venture that his brother wasn’t, either.
“Feel free to ask, but I think you’ll find they’re not interested.”
“You think they should be given the choice?” Eammon was incredulous and didn’t bother to hide it.
Brianna chose her words as carefully as if treading through a verbal minefield. This topic, after all, was the one that had led to her mother’s act of criminal defiance. Everyone in the room had fallen silent, waiting her response. Was she Fae? Or was she Helena’s true child?
“I consider David my vassal, and my friend. I have a duty to him—and by extension to his family. And we both know that not every human thrives in Faerie.” It was not a perfect answer, by any means, but it did sidestep the bigger issue.
Eammon gave her a long look over the top of his wineglass, but let the subject drop. Still, that look told her clearly as words that, to his mind, the subject of David and Nick’s freedom to leave Faerie was not decided—not in the least.
18
It was late when Brianna reached the apartments of King Moash of the Doxies. Dinner had dragged on interminably. The food had been marvelous, as had the wine, but it was hard to enjoy them when she had to keep checking every morsel and sip for poison. Just as poisonous were some of the honeyed barbs she’d been forced to intercept from Asara and the others.
Thank the deities it was over. Now if she could just get past this she could go back to Abracham House and take to her bed. She felt like she could sleep for a week.
Instead, she stood before a heavily guarded oaken door, its surface carved with an elaborate battle scene featuring the room’s occupant, the wood’s surface polished to a golden sheen.
There were guards on the door. One, Felicia, was familiar to Brianna, the second a man whom she’d met, but could never remember his name. Kenneth would know, but he’d been summoned to a private meeting with the king. Felicia rapped on the door before announcing loudly, “Her grace, Brianna Hai, Ap Reigh of High King Leu of the Sidhe, and winner of the battle of Cloverfield.”
Brianna kept her features schooled to stillness. It had been a long time since anyone had introduced her with full formality: Hai, the honorific won when she saved the king from assassination; Ap Reigh, acknowledged child of the High King, though not in line for the throne; and of course the new part—winner of the battle of Cloverfield. She wasn’t sure who had come up with that means of describing her latest adventure, but apparently it was now part of the official version; and wouldn’t Moash just hate that.
“By all means, send her in.”
The guard opened the door and Brianna stepped through, finding herself in an elegantly appointed living area with both comfortable seating, and a series of sturdy perches scattered throughout the room, with the largest grouping near the windows. The huge doxie stood on the marble tiles before the fireplace, wings furled against his body. The room was lit by an overhead chandelier, but it was set dim, so that parts of the room were in deep shadow.
Standing on the floor Moash stood nearly three feet tall. His black and green mottled scales had an almost oily sheen, his eyes glowing like banked red embers.
Brianna bowed her head in acknowledgment of his rank.
“You bow to me? But you have beaten me child. I have given my unconditional surrender.”
“You are still a king.”
“You do not claim to be queen? You’ve won the right.”
“Your people wouldn’t have me, and who am I to rule the doxies? I can’t even fly.”
He stared at her for a long moment. “You could be my queen.”
Brianna stood silently, considering how best to respond. “While I am greatly flattered by your offer, King Moash, our species are not capable of interbreeding. My father, and king, wishes me to bear children, so I must decline.”
He gave her a sincere smile, showing wicked teeth. “Probably wouldn’t work anyway.”
She returned the smile. “I doubt I’d survive the courtship.”
It was meant as a compliment, and he took it as such.
“So, daughter of Leu, what do you want of me?” He gestured toward the couch. When she took her seat, he moved across from her, climbing a bit awkwardly onto a wing-backed chair.
“I would have you swear again your oaths to my father.”
“Easily done.”
“And I would have you bound to me as an ally—my enemies your enemies, my friends your allies, so long as we both draw breath.” She paused. “And the return of the kittens, with a weregild paid to both me and Pug the gargoyle for the loss of the mother cat.”
“You would have the doxies allied to you as well as the stone trolls separate from your father’s alliance with us.”
“Yes.”
“You would value a people you so handily defeated?”
“The doxies are respected fighters, and excellent intelligence gatherers. Anyone with sense can appreciate that, and see the benefit of an alliance.”
“And you believe you need fighters, and intelligence agents?”
She sighed. “I have come here directly from an intimate family gathering where I was forced to fight a duel to the death. So yes, I do.”
He laughed then, and little drops of acid spittle fell onto the fabric of his chair, charring holes in it, so that the scent of burning fabric filled the air between them.
“So an alliance, with my people watching over you, and, I presume, your human guests?”
“Discreetly.”
“Agreed. Although when you return to the human side of the veil it may become problematic. I do not want to risk any of my people fading.”
“I’m sure we can work something out.”
“You let me off easy.”
“Don’t be so sure. I have a lot of enemies.”
He gave her a long, considering look. “You certainly do.”
19
NICK ANTONELLI
There was a light tap on the door to Nick’s suite.
“Yes?”
“Your dinner, sirs,” a male voice answered politely.
David rose from his seat and went over to open the door. As he did, a group of brown, noseless creatures about four feet tall came in. Three carried wooden chairs, the other pair, a matching table. An older human man wearing black silk trousers and a matching shirt with a mandarin collar and long sleeves carried a bundle of snow white linen. When the table was in place he spread a cloth over it, before deftly folding a trio of napkins into the shape of a swan and setting them at each place setting. As he did, the first group of brown servants left, to be replaced by a new set, one of whom set up one of those trestle things they use in restaurants, another put place settings of china and silver on the table. The third carried a large tray with a bottle of wine and a covered platter that emitted smells that were mouthwateringly wonderful.
Nick’s stomach growled. His body might be injured, but it still wanted food, and if his nose wasn’t lying to him there was steak under that cover.
The brown creatures scurried out, leaving only the human in attendance. “I am Teo, the king’s personal attendant. I hope you don’t mind that I join you this evening. His majesty asked me to attend to you and answer any questions you may have. Since I have been back and forth between Faerie and the human world often and recently, he felt I’d be be
st able to assist.”
Nick wasn’t sure what to say to that, so he remained silent. Peeling back the covers he moved gingerly into a sitting position. It hurt to move, not as badly as he would’ve expected, but enough to make things awkward. Equally awkward was the fact that he was naked.
Teo seemed to sense his discomfort. “There is a dressing gown hanging in the restroom.” He gestured in the direction of one of the doors before turning his back, ostensibly to pour wine into the glasses set by each of the three plates, but probably also to give Nick at least the illusion of privacy as he slowly limped across the room.
The bathroom was a little disappointing. After all, he was in a completely different world. Shouldn’t the bathroom be different? Oh, it was nice, with lots of marble and gold. There were flowering plants, too, that filled the air in the room with a faint fragrance that was light and incredibly fresh. Nick took advantage of the toilet that flushed just like the one he had at home, washed up, then pulled on the housecoat that hung on a hook on the back side of the door to his rooms.
It was long, black, and made of a thick, fluffy fabric that he didn’t recognize, but was as pettable as fur and smelled like fresh linen. When he tied the belt, it hung just past his knees. Nick didn’t consider himself overly modest, but he had never particularly liked being naked in front of strangers, so he was grateful for the robe.
Hurrying out to join the others, he walked into the middle of a conversation.
“… understand, why everything seems so much like home,” David said as he waved his talisman over all of the plates and glasses. “I was expecting everything to be exotic and strange … or like something out of those movies they made of the Tolkien books. But everything I’ve seen here, while it’s really nice, is pretty ordinary.”
“Ah, well that would be because you’re on the palace grounds,” Teo explained. “The palace complex is relatively new—most of the old buildings were damaged or destroyed in the coup that forced king Leu to take the throne. Some areas, like the throne room and the tunnels, date from the original construction. Most were rebuilt to the king’s specifications—and for whatever reason, he chose to make them in the mold of the human manor houses of the time.” Teo took a sip of wine from his glass, then continued, “If you get the chance to go farther out into the city, or to visit other parts of Faerie, you’ll see sights that you will no doubt find as strange and wondrous as anything you’ve imagined.” His expression darkened. “But I don’t recommend you go exploring without guards. It would be very … unwise.”
