by C. T. Adams
21
KING LEU OF THE SIDHE
It was a terrible way to die, and a horrible thing to see happen to one’s child. Leu couldn’t help but feel sympathy for Ulrich, in a very real way he’d lost both of his sons on this morning: Viktor might live, but was not the man his father had believed him to be, and Lars was dead without honor.
And yet, while he had sympathy for Ulrich, he also found himself rightfully proud of his daughter. It had taken courage for her to show them that day and not just because she was in the presence of the truthstone. At only fifteen she’d faced the risk of being torn to shreds by the gargoyle when it was necessary for her escape. It made him proud.
It also made him furious.
It should never have happened. When it did, she should have come to him.
She hadn’t.
He’d wager Helena had taken part in that decision.
Leu’s fists clenched, and he swore under his breath. Damn the woman. He’d loved her—and hated her with pretty much equal passion. She’d been the only person who ever truly stood up to him, defying him outright with the courage of her convictions.
Their relationship had been an unmitigated disaster in terms of his rule.
But she had given him their daughter.
And what a daughter she was.
Brianna would make a magnificent queen if it came to that. Such a pity the Sidhe nobles couldn’t appreciate it. Then again, they couldn’t appreciate anyone who wouldn’t bow to their influence. The only reason they supported Eammon was the belief that they could manipulate him.
They’re wrong in that. He is intelligent, but less clever than I’d wish him. Strong, and stubborn—and he holds a grudge ’til doomsday. Ruala has been good for him, too. She leads him to what he needs to see without trying to push. I could not have picked a better woman for him. He will do what he believes is right, and damn the cost.
Rodan … Rodan took after his mother’s family. Asara was descended from the Northmen—and Valjeta come to that. Rodan has the cleverness Eammon lacks, along with a streak of ruthless practicality needed in a king. But there is a thread of cruelty that runs through him that’s concerning. Rodan would be a strong king, but he might not be a good one.
Leu stood at the library windows, facing the garden, but staring at nothing. The treaty signing was over. He had decided to claim a few minutes of solitude before whatever the next crisis that required his attention raised its ugly head. So he’d come here to think, leaving orders that he was not to be disturbed for the next hour.
It would be one of those three, Leu could feel it. Not Lucie, and not just because she’d dropped off the list. Not Rihannon, whom he loved but would gladly throttle for having been stupid enough to become involved in drugs and unwilling to wean herself of them.
Which one? In times of war the High King could choose his successor. It was imperative that he choose wisely. Because while he hoped to live through the upcoming civil war, there were no guarantees, and the auguries didn’t look good.
Years ago he’d raged at Fate in all her aspects, and Cephia for having spared him and none of the others. He had not wanted the crushing responsibility of the throne—and if they could twist the threads of life to save him surely they could have saved his father, mother, any of the others.
He’d been so alone. And the curse of the crown was that he still was.
He wouldn’t wish that on anyone, least of all one of his children. And yet one of them had to succeed him for Faerie to continue. An acceptable High King or Queen must take the throne.
He had to decide.
A tap on the door interrupted his thoughts. He glanced at the clock, the hour was already gone. So fast, time was moving so very fast. There was no more time to waste.
He needed to choose a worthy successor in case he couldn’t manage to snatch victory from the jaws of his enemies. Whoever he chose, the others would hate him for it now. The chosen one would hate him later.
22
LUCIENNE
It was as well-planned and neatly executed a trick as Lucie had seen her siblings pull since their childhood. As breakfast had ended the king had swept Brianna, Pug, and Nick with him toward the library leaving David unattended by all but the guards. Lucie would have gone to him herself if Eammon, Rodan, and Ruala hadn’t immediately surrounded her, offering condolences on her having dropped off the list and asking innumerable questions. By the time she managed to extricate herself without mortally insulting any of them all she could see of Brianna’s human vassal was a glimpse of his back ducking through one of the servant doors with Rihannon and a gorgeous male toady by the name of Brendan—as notorious a drug user as anyone in the kingdom.
Oh, that was not good. And it left Lucie with a choice. She could pretend she hadn’t noticed, making Eammon and the others happy. Or she could try to intervene—which would piss them off, but put her solidly in Brianna’s good books.
Damn it anyway. The human really should know better.
But either he didn’t, or he couldn’t help himself.
She really should mind her own business, in the interests of her own continued health and well-being.
And still she found herself hurrying down the path toward that doorway, without so much as a clue as to what she’d do if she actually did catch up with the pair of them, just the absolute certainty of her other sense screaming that if she didn’t there would be real, serious trouble.
The door was unlocked when she tried it. The hall it opened into empty. Still, she could hear Rihannon’s clear soprano chattering cheerfully on about showing David the amazing artworks in her father’s gallery in the main palace.
The only thing was, their father didn’t have a gallery. The whole blasted place was used to display his collection. It was a lie, and while among the Fae lying was for weaklings, David wouldn’t know that and Rihannon obviously didn’t care what he thought of her anyway.
Think Lucie—if she’s taking him to the palace she’ll need to go through the front gate. It’s the only way out.
Dignity be damned, she slipped the strappy sandals from her feet and bolted back out the door and through the garden and past the greenhouse ignoring the stares of everyone she passed.
There, in front of the gate, a dog cart waited, it’s carriage covered, despite the beautiful morning. She skidded to a somewhat breathless stop in front of the carriage. “Who are you here for?” she asked the gnome who was driving.
“I am commanded to wait for the Ard Reigh Rihannon and none other. I am sorry Ap Reigh, for I see you are in a hurry.”
Lucie thought furiously. She only had a minute, maybe two before Rihannon arrived—Rihannon, who now outranked her, damn the lists anyway.
“Fine, now here are my orders. Disable the carriage so that it cannot be used until after repairs.”
“Ap Reigh?”
She gave him the glare she’d practiced before the mirror, petulant and stupid, but mean. “Do it now! She’s insulted me. I can’t challenge her, but I can make her walk.” Lucie smirked.
It worked, he set to it without further argument, the prank definitely in character with the person he believed her to be.
Lucie thanked the deities. It might be useless, and a waste of time, but if she was unable to find a way to stop Rihannon from taking David, at least having the carriage disabled would slow them down, leaving them on foot or waiting for another dog cart.
She’d barely had time for three breaths when Rihannon and Brendan appeared with one of her favorite male toadies, the two of them half carrying David.
Lucie hurried toward them hoping to buy a minute or two for the gnome to do as she’d bid. “Rihannon, what in deities name do you think you’re doing with that human?” Her greeting wasn’t at all diplomatic, but direct enough that her sister would feel compelled to stop and address her rather than just brushing past.
“He’s unwell. Morguenna is at the palace.” She gave Lucie a positively poisonous smile. Brendan, meanwhi
le, seemed to think better of the whole business, taking the opportunity of the confrontation between the sisters offered to slip quickly away.
Lucie let him go. Rihannon was the bigger danger. Besides, her sister hadn’t lied. Both the infirmary and Morguenna’s permanent quarters were in the palace, and David looked like death. His skin was gray and clammy, his eyes glassy and unfocused—nothing like the handsome and animated companion Lucie had sitting beside her just a few moments ago at breakfast.
“Morguenna can come here,” Lucie countered, and before Rihannon could argue or even say another word Lucie shouted to the guard at the gate. “Summon Morguenna, at once. Tell her the human, David Antonelli is gravely ill.”
The guard nodded. Stepping outside the ring of protections surrounding the property he made a series of gestures. The air in front of him took on a glassy sheen, and Lucie saw the image of Morguenna’s face reflected there.
Rihannon hissed in displeasure. “That was poorly done sister. You will regret it.”
Lucie’s temper snapped, “Look at him Rihannon! I don’t know what you gave him, and don’t much care, but he’ll be no use to anyone dead, and that’s what will happen if we don’t get him help, and now.”
Rihannon scowled down at him. “It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. I tried to talk to him, but he wouldn’t cooperate—even when I used the shine on him and took his talisman. Brendan said we’d have to drug him. I just gave him a little bit.”
David’s breathing was barely audible, his body totally limp.
“A little bit of what?” Morguenna had jumped down from a dog cart and rushed up and through the gates while Rihannon was speaking. Her voice cracked like a whip.
“You do not speak to an Ard Reigh in that tone, healer.” Rihannon whirled on the older woman, her eyes narrowing with hatred.
“Just tell her Ri,” Lucie said. “She needs to know to fix this. You don’t want him to die.”
“Are you so sure?”
Lucie counted to twenty internally before answering. Getting Rihannon more upset would be counterproductive—never mind how much she really really wanted to throttle the little bitch.
“Think how disappointed Rodan and the nobles would be,” Lucie suggested, “and how furious it will make Brianna. She may not be able to duel or kill you, you’re on the list after all. But she can make you wish you were dead.”
Rihannon visibly winced at their brother’s name. At Brianna’s she scowled. “She’d do it, too.”
In a heartbeat, and without a qualm. Lucienne didn’t even blame her.
“Fine, it was Demon’s Blood.”
Lucie saw Morguenna’s expression darken, a fine rage began burning in her eyes. Turning to Lucie she said, “Quick, we need to get him to the infirmary at the palace if he’s to have any hope at all.”
23
NICK ANTONELLI
“Deities, what a queen she would make. I just pray her father doesn’t choose her to rule.”
“Why?” Nick asked the Diamond King. They were standing in front of the French doors, watching King Leu escort Brianna down the path through the formal gardens and out of sight. Behind them, Leu’s assistant was barking orders to scurrying servants trying to clean up the mess created by Lars’s death.
“Because I like her. I always have. I would see her happy. And while she would be a great queen, ruling is not a happy business.”
Based on what Nick had seen of her today, he believed it. It was a side of royalty that most people don’t think about, the price they paid for all the fame and riches. Brianna had been forced to endure an emotionally brutal morning, including witnessing a horrific death from inches away. In fact, she’d been standing close enough that there were burn marks and smudges of soot that was all that was left of Lars on her clothes. But after just a few minutes rest she’d insisted on going forward with the treaty signing rather than risk offending the doxies. It made sense politically. Nick understood that. But a part of him was pissed that she had to do it, and that they’d not only let her, they’d encouraged it.
“I’ve been meaning to ask, how are you doing?”
“The injuries are healing.”
“Good. But that’s not what I meant.” The stone troll gave Nick a very direct look. “You’ve been through a great deal of trauma over the past couple of days. There’s been a lot to absorb—”
Talk about your understatement. These past two days had been hell, both here and at home. He thought about Juan, wondered how he was doing, and realized that he hadn’t thought or worried about his best friend … really since he arrived in Faerie. A wave of guilt hit him. Juan was injured, maybe dying … and—
The Diamond King noticed his distress. Placing his hand on Nick’s shoulder he said, “I’m sorry. I did not mean to make it worse.”
“It’s not your fault. It’s just … I’ve been running from one crisis to the next so fast I haven’t had time to think. This is the first time I’ve slowed down enough for it to really hit me. I really am in another world.”
“You really are. And if the Sidhe nobles have anything to say about it, you’ll be staying here.”
Nick’s head jerked back as if he’d been slapped.
“Brianna’s already had to fight one duel so you could go home. The nobles see you and your brother as a symbol. How Leu handles your staying or leaving will have huge repercussions. But it has occurred to me that its possible nobody has bothered to ask you what you want. Given a choice, do you want to go home? Or would you stay here?”
“Home. Definitely home.”
Nick thought about his life in the normal world, where the worst that was likely to happen was he’d get shot, lose his job, or both. Amazing what a difference a day could make in a man’s attitude.
The Diamond King gave him a long look. “We should probably leave. They don’t dare tell me to go, but they need the room.” He sounded amused. “Would you mind accompanying me to my quarters? I would like to speak with you for a few minutes, and I need to put this”—he patted the pouch with the stone—“behind wards before some idiot tries to steal it.”
Nick hesitated. He didn’t know this guy. Yes, Brianna considered him a friend—but he didn’t know her that well come to think of it. God he hated feeling so out of his depth. What was he supposed to do? Was there anybody here besides his brother he dared trust?
Nick took his time making the decision, with Adam watching him patiently. Finally, the stone troll reached down to loosen the drawstrings of the pouch. “If it will help, I swear to you by this stone and on my honor that I mean you no harm and will do nothing deliberately that would affect your ability to choose your own path.”
The rock flashed in response to the words—but otherwise was quiescent.
Nick looked into the creature’s eyes. They were filled with compassion. And hey, as oaths go, that was a good one. Nick had seen firsthand what that stone could do.
“Okay, good enough I guess.” He did want to get out of here. He’d been trying to put a good face on things, pretend he was fine (“fake it ’til you make it” as Juan always said). But the truth was he was still a little in shock from everything that was going on, particularly at how Lars’s death was being handled. He was not sure what he had expected, but everyone was being so damned matter-of-fact. A man had just died a horrible death, and the only people who seemed affected were Brianna, Nick, and Ulrich. Granted, Lars had conspired to murder Brianna, but it just seemed wrong that life was taken so cheaply here. He hadn’t loved all the hoopla about the gangbanger’s death back home, but damn it, at least there was hoopla.
Nick shook his head, trying to get his mind to focus. “Right. Let’s go.”
The stone troll lifted his cloak from a chair and settled the hooded garment over his shoulders. Immediately the light in the room dimmed as the sparkles and rainbows that poured from each facet of his body were cut off.
As the two men left the library, the Diamond King paused to address one of the bustling
servants. “Please have someone find the gargoyle, Pug. He was last seen giving his statement to Ulrich and the Duty Captain of the Guards. Tell him we will meet him at Abracham House.”
“Of course, your majesty.” The servant bowed low. “It would be my pleasure.”
“Thank you.” He swept down the hall with Nick a step behind him, feeling out of place. Everywhere they went servants and nobles alike stopped what they were doing to clear a path for them and bow in respect. At first it surprised Nick that the troll didn’t have bodyguards, but then it occurred to him: what exactly could damage a five-foot-four, mobile, intelligent piece of solid diamond? Nick couldn’t think of a thing. The troll was practically assassin-proof.
“You should call me Adam.” The stone troll glanced over his shoulder to make sure Nick was keeping up with his brisk pace.
“Your majesty…” Nick protested, “I’m not sure—”
“I am.” He gave Nick a long look. Nick wished he could read his expression, but concealed in the shadows of the hood, his face was, for all practical purposes, invisible. It would make him one hell of a negotiator, or poker player for that matter.
“My proper name is Adamante. I prefer that my friends call me Adam. Being king is a relatively new thing for me. For the most part I dislike the trappings.” Nick heard a smile in the creature’s voice.
They passed into a secondary corridor that branched off of the main hall. The place was a gorgeous, well-decorated maze of marble and columns, a museum run amok. It occurred to Nick—belatedly—that he was following a relative stranger and that without a guide, he’d be lost in an instant. Still, oddly, Nick trusted the Diamond King.
