Grudgingly the master healer said, “It’s not that they have no soul, but that they share one collectively with all of nature. The fay are made of earth and its elements. The sea-fay are little more than brine and bone and a scrap of soul that tears from the collective when they are born. When they die their body disintegrates into sea foam and their piece of soul absorbs back into its greater whole. Do you see? The fay only exist as long as they’re alive. Humans continue on as individual spirits after we die. So, we fascinate them.”
Magdalena’s skin crawled. “Where did you learn this?”
He blinked, the action owlish in nature. “The oral tradition still survives if you listen to the proper sources.”
“Do those traditions ever speak of fay who masquerade as humans?”
His fingers tapped impatiently. “There are stories, yes.”
She ignored the movement, her anxiety giving way to excitement. It seemed the glamour had no effect upon her words if she spoke in general terms instead of referencing the prince’s foundling. Carefully she asked, “What about sea-fay?”
But Master Asturias shook his head. “Sea-fay have no legs. Fay magic allows a façade, but it doesn’t truly transform. A sea-fay wouldn’t get very far with such a masquerade beyond the waters, not with nothing but a tail fin to support its weight.”
The shriveled stumps of the sea creature flashed before her eyes. A chill shot through her breast. “But what if it could somehow split its tail?”
“That would involve powerful magic—blood-based and forbidden even to the fairy denizens. And the price would be astronomical, far above what most are willing to pay. The sea-fay have no cause to sacrifice so much, to leave their ocean home to walk on dry land.”
“But what if—”
“Fay magic trades pain for power, Magdalena. The price for such a spell would be constant agony. Now, if you please…” He gestured to the ingredients strewn across his table, a half-mixed potion that required his full attention.
Obediently she withdrew. Her voice lowered to a murmur. “Thank you for humoring my questions.”
His gaze followed her as she settled in her own corner of the room. “If you think the prince’s foundling—”
“She’s the prettiest little thing,” Magdalena said over her shoulder. The words rolled effortlessly off her tongue.
Master Asturias mulled over them. “Yes,” he said with a frown. He returned to his work and silence governed the infirmary.
She contemplated the foundling throughout the day. She knew little of blood-based magic, except that spells cast with it had to run their course. Human sages forbade its use, but that the fay did as well spoke of its danger. Her anxiety for the prince compounded the longer she considered the implications.
This sea creature walked on dry land under a powerful, painful glamour, and she clung to Finnian like a leech. What did she hope to gain from the venture?
As evening fell, a heavy book landed with a thump on her work table. Magdalena looked in wonder from its battered leather cover to Master Asturias, who had delivered it.
“That one discusses general fay lore,” he said. “Perhaps you can sate your curiosity in its pages.”
She traced a finger along the cracked, weathered spine. “Thank you.”
“You can be done for the night. I’ll clean up.”
She glanced over the raw ingredients spread upon her table. The allure of this new book overrode her inclination to leave a pristine work space. With a grateful nod, she hugged it to her and vacated the infirmary.
Her feet couldn’t move fast enough. The sooner she arrived at her room, the sooner she could search for more information. The anxiety that had steadily gathered within her stretched tight.
As she approached her door, though, a figure pushed from the wall and blocked her path. Captain Byrne smiled wanly down upon her in the dimness of the hall.
“Milady,” he said.
She peered impatiently past him to the refuge she had almost attained. “Shouldn’t you be with the prince?”
“He went to bed early. His Majesty the king wishes to speak with you tonight.”
Alarm spiked in her heart. “King Ronan, with me? Why?”
But of course, he couldn’t simply tell her. “This way, milady.” He gestured up the corridor. She dug in her heels.
“I need to put this in my room,” she said of the book in her arms.
Captain Byrne hesitated, as though a fifteen-second delay might cost him his position. “Be quick about it.”
Magdalena slipped inside and dropped the book on her bed, then exited to the hall again and shut her door tight. The captain motioned her to walk ahead of him.
“What’s this about?” she asked as they went.
“His Majesty will explain.”
The secrecy ate at her. Perhaps the king had heard from her father. Perhaps he was sending her home to Ondile. The fate of his son, the prince, weighed heavy on her mind. Would a wedding announcement soon follow her home? And if so, what would be the outcome of a marriage between human and fay?
She entered the throne room, a close, formal space rarely used. Located in the oldest part of the palace, it possessed an ancient atmosphere. Generations upon generations of monarchs had governed Corenden from the magnificent chair upon which King Ronan sat. Queen Orla beside him looked no less imposing.
Magdalena dropped into a curtsey. As she rose, she noted the absence of guards or servants other than Captain Byrne. “You wished to see me, your Majesty?”
The king exchanged a glance with his wife. She nodded her encouragement. He cleared his throat. “You have not attended many palace events since your arrival.”
Magdalena interlaced her fingers and willed her heartbeat to calm. “I came here for an apprenticeship, your Majesty.”
“It would please us if you attended meals in the banquet hall from now on. Master Asturias can spare you during those hours.”
Her breath caught in her throat. Lili danced at the banquets. Magdalena had heard the servants talk of the foundling’s grace and beauty. Her shoulders tensed at the prospect of phantom daggers punching upward from the ground.
She could no more attend those meals than she could stab her own feet.
“Forgive me, your Majesty, but—”
“I owe it to your father, the Grand Duke, to see that you attend such functions. We cannot have the daughter of our closest ally cloistered away in the infirmary while lesser nobles partake of our hospitality.”
“I can’t—”
“You must,” Queen Orla interjected. The desperation of her voice caught at Magdalena’s heartstrings.
The king reached for her hand. “My dear—”
“Ten days ago, we believed our son lost to the open sea,” she said, as though she hadn’t heard him. “A week ago, he vowed he would court the girl who found him on the shore.”
Surprise tumbled over Magdalena like a bucket of upended water.
“And now,” the queen concluded. “Now he keeps exclusive company with a pretty child of unknown origins. What is to become of the crown of Corenden if its heir throws himself away on an inferior alliance?”
Something clicked in Magdalena’s mind. The apprenticeship. Captain Byrne’s remarks when they first met. The queen, without stating it outright, implied that Magdalena should draw Prince Finnian back from his infatuation with the lovely foundling. But they had sought to keep him separate from other young women as well—herself included.
“Did you not consider me an inferior alliance a mere week ago?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Queen Orla snapped her mouth shut. A blush stained her cheekbones in two bright, symmetrical spots. Her husband had no such embarrassment.
“When we believed you to be a peasant, of course we did. As daughter of the Grand Duke of Ondile, you have the proper pedigree—”
“But you still didn’t approve,” she interrupted, shocked at her own boldness.
He stiffene
d upon his throne. “We have vested interest in our son not throwing himself away on a fleeting infatuation. If his affection for you had proved lasting—”
“What affection? He has never treated anyone with special favor.” Captain Byrne laid a warning hand on her arm, but she shook it off. “If I’m not mistaken, you brought me here—apprenticed me—to demonstrate how unsuitable I was to receive courtship from a prince. You should have just left me at the sage’s seminary.”
King Ronan pursed his lips, perfectly at ease to be frank. “We couldn’t. He said he would go to you there.”
Magdalena blinked at the nonsensicality of this revelation. If Finnian had truly intended courtship—which went against everything she thought she knew of him—he had a funny way of showing it. And that his attention could so quickly shift away from her again crushed her heart to pieces. She fought the despair that bubbled within her.
“We might have handled things better,” Queen Orla said. “You must understand, my child: people have machinated over Finnian’s marriage since the day he was born. Of course we have to be careful. It’s more than his heart at stake, but the whole country, the allies that depend upon our strength. A king who makes a disadvantageous marriage presents a picture of weakness. This girl, whoever she is, cannot even speak her mind. Her tongue has been cut like a common slave’s. Is she fit to ascend to the throne alongside our royal son?”
Magdalena hardened her heart. After all of his parents’ interference, it would serve them right if he did marry a glamoured sea-fay. “That would be the prince’s decision to make.”
It was the wrong thing to say. The king’s expression shuttered, and he retreated into the formality of his office. “Magdalena of Ondile, by order of the crown of Corenden, you will attend palace events from this day forward. Our son yet worries over your welfare, even in the midst of his infatuation with this unknown foundling.” Magdalena glanced to Captain Byrne, from whom this detail must have emerged, but he kept his gaze rigidly forward. King Ronan continued his decree, a bite of sarcasm in his voice. “If you succeed in securing his attentions away from the pretty little castaway, you will have our blessing to marry.”
Her careful upbringing allowed her to contain the scoff that fought to escape her throat. More than anything, she wanted to cry, but she wouldn’t do so here, before these witnesses. She swallowed the emotions and asked in a steady voice, “And if I refuse?”
“We send you home to Ondile in disgrace and question whether our supposed ally truly honors the sovereign crown that has for generations sheltered it.”
He would punish not only her but Ondile itself. Returning to her parents in disgrace she might endure, but she could not hazard destroying the ancient treaty with Corenden. The larger nation, their most important ally, had sheltered the tiny duchy from invasion and calamity.
The queen and the captain, her only witnesses to this threat, made no attempt to protest it. Magdalena dropped into a grudging curtsey. “Be it as the king commands.”
Upon his throne, King Ronan actually sagged with relief. “Finnian indulges this girl because they share a common experience, both lost at sea and washed ashore. But he shares a common experience with you as well. Call that to his memory, and we shall see whether he would rather have a speaking lady of noble birth or a pretty child who can’t utter a word.”
She inclined her head, mute herself in this moment of despair.
“And Magdalena,” he added, his voice severe, “tell no one of this meeting or what was said.”
With no witnesses other than his wife and his captain, he might rescind his promises. Magdalena, sick at heart, could only accept the command.
Chapter 8
Silence governed the walk back to her room, until Captain Byrne could bear it no longer.
“I’m sorry. It’s usually my job to draw unworthy females away from the prince.”
Magdalena regarded him with somber eyes. “So I gathered.”
“He knows it, too, if you think me underhanded, and most of the time he approves.”
“Only most of the time?”
He tipped her a smile. “I told you once that you were a special case. You had no clue, did you.”
It wasn’t a question.
Magdalena turned away and continued on her path, battling emotions that threatened to spill over at any moment. The prince had intended courtship based on the happenstance of her finding him washed ashore? It never would have lasted. He would have changed his mind and withdrawn his attentions.
So why did she feel as though someone had offered her the most precious desire of her heart only to snatch it away again? What would have happened had the glamoured sea-fay never appeared on the ocean steps?
She boxed her feelings and picked up her pace. Captain Byrne matched her stride. “It’s likely that the king will have me escort you to the banquet hall from now on. But it’s only for lunches and suppers. Your mornings will still be your own.”
Unshed tears stung her eyes. She angled her head away from her walking companion in hopes that he wouldn’t notice.
“I am sorry,” Captain Byrne said again, ducking in an attempt to catch her gaze. “Lili will have nothing to do with anyone who’s not the prince. His parents are getting desperate. And if what you indicated this morning is true, if she really is the prettiest—” His voice broke off in frustration.
Magdalena looked up, anger flaring. “What if she is? What is the outcome of a union between human and fay?”
Captain Byrne recoiled. “I… I don’t know.”
Shocked that the glamour had allowed such a question to pass her lips, she reined in her ire. “Neither do I. But if he loves her, let him have her. I don’t want someone whose heart is elsewhere.”
Her own heart screamed its protest, but she ruthlessly squashed it. They had arrived at the head of her corridor. Magdalena raised one hand to prevent the captain from following her further. “I can go on my own from here.”
“But—”
“I’m not going to vanish into the night, if that’s what you’re worried about. I understand my duty to Ondile, if nothing else.”
He stepped back with a nod, allowing her this small request. Magdalena walked stiff-backed to her room, well aware that he observed her until she slipped behind her door and shut it tight.
The moon cast deep shadows upon the tiny space. She leaned her back against the wood and inhaled a shuddering half-sob, her hands folded protectively around herself.
Even as her face crumpled and the first tears streaked down her cheeks, a scuffling sounded from the corner. A form detached from the shadows. Magdalena shrieked and scrabbled for the door handle. A hand clapped over her mouth.
“Sh-sh-shh! Malena, it’s only me.”
If anything, her alarm multiplied. She wrenched back, stumbling against her trunk in the darkness. “Your Highness? What are you doing here?”
She hadn’t seen him in a week. He had intended courtship before his foundling washed ashore. A man had no business in an unmarried woman’s room, especially in the dead of night. These and a dozen other thoughts tumbled through her brain at once.
Finnian, meanwhile, had caught her by the shoulders. “I didn’t mean to startle you. It was safer to wait for you in here instead of outside, that’s all. Someone might have seen me, and then word would get back—”
“Why were you waiting for me?” she blurted. Her face burned. Only moments ago, she had openly consigned him to the arms of a glamoured siren. Had he overheard the conversation down the hall? Did he know his parents had summoned her tonight, or the charge they had laid on her?
The prince withdrew a pace. Her eyes, adjusting to the darkness, caught a hint of regret in his expression. “Why shouldn’t I wait for you? I was finally able to sneak out of my room without anyone noticing. Where else would you expect me to go and not get caught?”
She slipped into the safety of her cynicism. “Do you visit all the ladies of the court after dark, then?”
/> He scoffed. “You would ask that. No I don’t. And don’t put on a missish act. It’s not as though you’re in your nightgown—as you were when my own bodyguard discovered you last week.”
Heat flared to her face. “That was—”
“Not your fault, I know. Malena, I don’t want to fight. Just, please. I only wanted to see you with my own eyes.”
Her pulse quickened. “Why?”
Would he admit to anything? What reason could he possibly give—?
“Because the last time we met, your magic had you snared in a terrible agony.”
The concern in his voice crushed her spirit. This was the kind, compassionate boy from her childhood, the prince who cared for everyone equally, who captured hearts with a charming smile and a gentle word.
Magdalena steeled herself against the onslaught of dismay this recognition brought. “You can’t be in my room, your Highness. It’s not proper.”
Silence fell between them.
“Come with me, then,” said Finnian in the hush.
Her breath caught in her throat. His fingers closed around hers and he pulled her to the door.
“Where are we going?” she asked as he peeked out at the dim hallway beyond.
“The ocean stairs. The patrols in that part of the palace are sparse, especially at night.”
He opened the door wider, and a shaft of light fell across her bed, where lay the text of fairy lore. Magdalena spared it a regretful glance but allowed him to draw her from her room. There would be hours enough to study when she returned.
They tiptoed through darkened corridors, illuminated only by the light of the moon from windows above. Twice they stopped in shaded alcoves for palace guards to pass; they arrived unmolested at the pavilion, where a cold ocean breeze welcomed them.
Finnian shut the double doors behind them. He squeezed her hand and led her to the steep stairway, where they settled on the top step, as they had a week ago. The waves glittered beneath the lovely moon, but far from indulging romantic fantasies, Magdalena folded her arms around her knees and wished she had brought a blanket. The king’s edict echoed in her ears. Though she had not orchestrated this meeting, she felt underhanded in the prince’s presence.
Brine and Bone Page 7
