by M. J. Scott
I looked too. I’d been to the villages around the borders of Summerdale once or twice, but I’d never come to the actual Gate that guarded the Veiled World before. I’d seen pictures, of course, but pictures rarely did justice to Fae-wrought things.
The closer we got to the border, the more the earth hummed around me with a slightly unfamiliar sensation, as though the presence of the Fae was changing the earth itself. It was both unsettling and enticing and I reached out my power a time or two to lightly touch the earth and reassure myself that my connection was still there.
Finally the carriage drew to a standstill, the driver clucking to the horses in a tone that was meant to be reassuring but sounded somewhat nervous.
I was the first out of the carriage, eager to get my feet onto the ground and study the difference in what I was sensing more closely.
But my attention was turned from the changes in the earth’s song by the massive marble tower that confronted me. It blazed white in the sunshine, a vast structure that stretched toward the sky, its smooth curved walls unbroken by anything except a single massive door at its base. It looked like it had been carved from one vast piece of marble, no sign of mortar or seam. Surely that wasn’t possible? It had to be a facade of marble over a normally constructed tower. I couldn’t even begin to imagine how the tower might have been built if that wasn’t the case.
Some of my jubilation receded. The tower was taller than any of the buildings in the City, taller than either the Cathedral or St. Giles’ huge dome by a good measure. And this was just the entrance point to the Veiled World.
Perhaps Fen had the right attitude after all.
But no, I wasn’t going to be scared until I had to be. I turned back to the carriage, watched Bryony climb down, followed by Liam.
Fen came last, his face settling into even grimmer lines as he took in the tower. He turned on his heel almost immediately and moved to help the driver unload the small amount of baggage we’d brought with us.
Delaying the time when he had to face that tower, I thought.
But with so few bags, there was a limit to how long even Fen could procrastinate. After only a few minutes, our small party was assembled, baggage in hand, all four of us gazing at the tower.
Behind us, the carriage was retreating at a speedy pace.
The driver only wanted to get back to the City before nightfall, I told myself. He wasn’t nervous about lingering here on the borders of the Veiled World with the Veiled Queen presumably somewhere within, her fury over what had happened at the Treaty Hall still to be dealt with.
Summerdale.
I held my breath as Bryony stepped up to the door and pressed her hand against the dark wood.
The urge to grin and bounce up and down where I stood flared again. Luckily my mother had trained me well and I managed to tamp down all the emotion and merely toy with the buckle of the belt at my waist.
Beside me, Fen was still and silent. For him this was a completely different sort of homecoming.
One that could be far more dangerous for him than for the rest of us, despite Bryony’s promises that she could keep any stray members of his father’s Family from trying to lay claim to him.
I didn’t think he truly believed her.
I wasn’t sure I did either.
Some of my ebullience melted away. Fen could be trapped here. We all could.
Or worse.
But worse was nebulous. The risk of being separated from Fen had a more immediate impact and I wasn’t sure I liked the fact that it upset me so. He had settled himself under my skin, sliding in without me noticing, like the smooth-tongued charmer he purported to be. I felt as though he’d marked me somehow, leaving a trace of himself, something I could no more get rid of than Guy could erase the Templar sigils on his hands.
My hand moved to my prentice chain, warming under my fingers. The Fae would be able to feel the magic it carried. Would they also be able to decipher the emotions that charged it when my control slipped?
I could just imagine the expression on Master Aquinas’ face if I gave myself away like a raw first-year student.
I’d told everyone that I could handle this, that I could represent the Guild and face down the Veiled Queen. Now I had to prove it.
I took a deep breath as the door finally swung inward and Bryony turned to beckon us forward.
Summerdale.
Where everything was at stake.
I wanted to reach for Fen’s hand, but we’d agreed to try and be circumspect here. No one could say what the queen might choose to take offense over, so it was important to be on our best behavior.
The room we entered was large and echoing. More white marble lined the walls. Here, though, it was intricately carved, flowers and trees and all sorts of fantastical creatures from tiny to life-sized cavorting over the walls and ceiling. Tiny stone tiles covered the floor, their colors forming patterns as well.
I took in the details, letting the beauty of it distract me from everything else, but eventually my attention was drawn back to the far side of the room. Three doors of bare, gleaming wood stood out starkly against the carved walls. One of them was the true entrance to the Veiled World and the Fae lands that lay beneath the ground. I didn’t know which one. But once we passed through that door, the Fae would have control over us.
The leftmost door opened and a tall Fae woman, robed in white and silver—the same silver as her coiled hair—moved toward us at a stately, gliding pace. We came to a halt behind Bryony. When she bowed to the stranger, we copied her.
The woman returned our courtesy with a much shallower bow. “Bryony sa’Eleniel,” she said. “It is long since you were in this place.” She looked past Bryony to the three of us. “Now is not the time to bring in those who don’t belong to the Veil.”
Bryony inclined her head. “I understand, al’car. But I am here on a matter of great importance.”
Al’car. I knew that one. This woman was the queen’s Seneschal, keeper of the Gate, in a sense that went beyond just answering the door. As I understood the court hierarchy, she wasn’t quite as high in status as the Speaker but she was powerful nonetheless. She could deny us entry—stop our mission with a word—unless any of us attempted the riskier route into Summerdale by facing the trial of the Door. Holly had told me a little about her experiences with the Door and I’d never managed to persuade Guy to tell me anything about his. Which made me hope that it wouldn’t come to that.
“You wish to speak to the queen.” The Seneschal’s voice was flat. “She is not in a receptive mood.”
It wasn’t an out-and-out denial, at least. I made myself stand very still, not wanting to do something that might sway the Seneschal’s opinion against us.
“She has closed the Court?” Bryony asked.
The Seneschal’s lips pressed together. “No.”
“Then she has to hear my petition, does she not?” Bryony said. Bryony was formidable at the best of times and she ruled St. Giles with a grip of gentle iron, but I’d never seen her quite so icy and regal as she was here. I knew that she was from a high Family, but I didn’t exactly know how high. By the careful politeness with which the Seneschal was trying to persuade her, I gathered it was high enough.
“She will hear, perhaps. But I do not think you will garner an answer that you like.”
“That is my choice,” Bryony said. “So will you let us pass, or do I need to summon my father?”
Her father? Who exactly was her father? The Seneschal’s expression had turned even more careful.
Interesting.
“That won’t be necessary. You may enter.”
“And my companions? They are necessary to me here.”
“Really? A hai’salai, a mage barely out of childhood, and a crippled knight are necessary to your well-being? Life in the outer worlds must be very . . . educational.” The Seneschal managed to make the words somehow sound far more insulting than they actually were. I could only see Bryony’s necklace where it
ran across the back of her neck, bared by her piled-up hair, but I saw the brief flare of dark purple that shimmered across it all the same.
“My well-being is my own concern. If the queen has not closed the court or the borders, then it is my right to bring whomever I wish. So again, will you admit us or shall we discuss the matter with my father?”
The Seneschal looked like she’d like to argue but apparently thought better of it. She bowed. “I will admit you.” She straightened, then paused, as though considering adding something more to her statement. Something along the lines of “but don’t say I didn’t warn you when it all goes horribly wrong” perhaps?
“Thank you.” Bryony’s icy politeness probably would have extinguished my forge fires. Fen and Liam and I stayed deathly silent by mutual unspoken agreement as the Seneschal led the way across to the far door.
“Before you can go through, I need to check your belongings.”
“We don’t have anything illegal,” Bryony said.
“No?” The Seneschal tilted her head, then pointed at Fen. “That one carries iron.”
“Merely a chain around his wrist.”
“That can be enough.” The Seneschal’s mouth set in a stubborn line.
“He needs the iron,” Bryony said.
“Why?”
It was Bryony’s turn to look stubborn.
“Either you tell me, sa’Eleniel, or you will not enter.”
Bryony looked back at Fen. He grimaced.
I nudged him. “Fen, you have to.”
I knew how he felt about the Fae knowing about his powers, but really, I doubted it was a secret that there was a half-breed seer in the City. “Fen.”
He scowled. “The iron blocks my visions.”
The Seneschal’s eyebrows shot upward. “You have the Sight?”
“I have something,” he agreed.
“You need iron to control it? How is it that you have remained untrained for so long?”
“Because I chose not to turn my life over to either the Beasts or your kind,” he said bluntly.
“You would rather wear iron?” She sounded appalled.
“Yes.”
Her mouth flattened again, her eyes narrowed as if she was trying to determine whether there was something more to the story, more that she wasn’t being told. She held a hand toward Fen for a moment, then snapped it shut. “You are part Beast?”
“My grandmother was immuable.”
“Is your power from her?”
Fen shrugged. “No one seems to know.” He held out his wrist, pushing his cuff back roughly to bare the chain. The Seneschal fell back two steps as if worried that he might try to touch her with the iron.
“Do you want me to take this off?” he asked.
“It is a burden on the land, to have iron inside the court,” the Seneschal said.
“It’s a burden on him not to have it,” Bryony replied. “It is not a weapon. I will pledge my word that it will not be used against any of the Fae.”
The Seneschal looked as though she didn’t particularly think that was enough. “I will allow it. Under one condition. Once inside, the hai’salai will present himself to one of our healers. They may be able to bind him a different way. Then the iron may be removed from the court.”
Bryony looked at Fen. “Is that acceptable to you, Fen?”
Would he refuse? And if so, what then? Would Bryony go on without us? And what did that mean for the agreement we’d made?
We couldn’t turn back. Not with everything that was at stake. I could feel the hours slipping by, each one ticking away like a gear winding down, propelling us toward the moment when Ignatius would be free to carry out his threat and dissolve the treaty.
Before the war started.
The queen had to change her mind. We had to make her change her mind.
I watched as Fen studied Bryony and the Seneschal. He touched the chain on his wrist, twisted it against his skin, then pushed his sleeve back down. “Yes. I agree with your conditions.”
Beside me, Liam made a noise that might just have been a stifled sigh of relief. His hand uncurled, the red of the Templar sigil muted against his dark skin but comforting somehow. I knew that he, for one, wouldn’t break his word or abandon us.
The Seneschal nodded. “An agreement, then. I will let your party pass, sa’Eleniel.”
She bowed again as she produced an ornate metal key from beneath her robes and unlocked the door.
Beyond the doorway I caught a glimpse of a stormy sky and couldn’t help glancing back over my shoulder. The weather outside the Gate had been a perfect summer’s day. But we were apparently stepping into stormier climes. The queen’s connection to the Veiled Court and the Fae lands was an intimate one and what the lands showed spoke to her mood and our likely reception.
An ironmage in the Fae courts. I couldn’t help feeling as though such a thing might act somewhat like a lightning rod, drawing trouble and fire and destruction.
But it was too late to turn back now, so I took deep breaths while the Seneschal examined our luggage. It didn’t take long. She gave us permission to pick up our bags and then she walked back to the trio of doors and pressed her hand to the central one. It swung open. My curiosity surged and it was only my endless hours of protocol training that made me remember to bow politely to the Seneschal as I walked past her and stepped into another world.
FEN
* * *
Summerdale.
I wanted nothing to do with the Fae. Yet here I was, trooping across the threshold to the Veiled World on a fool’s errand like it was just a trip to a borough across the City.
Perhaps that was the key to surviving here. I had to tell myself it wasn’t a big deal to be here—and then it wouldn’t be a big deal.
I almost snorted. If I believed that particular bit of chicanery then I might as well sell myself a bridge or two as well.
Still, whatever I thought of the matter, I was here now and we had a task to complete. Like it or not, we needed the queen to return to the negotiations. Or else the City could fall.
The door closed behind us with a quiet click. I couldn’t stop myself from looking back over my shoulder. The door had vanished.
The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end.
Perfect. No way out without someone who knew how to reveal the door again. I was truly screwed.
Better to look forward than back. I turned my attention to our surroundings. That was hardly less unsettling. We stood in a large garden—or a courtyard perhaps. There were smooth stone tiles underfoot and garden beds filled with tall and spiky blooms. It may have been pretty in sunshine, but under the suddenly sullen sky that loomed above our heads, it merely looked gloomy and quietly menacing.
“Now what?” I asked Bryony. “How do we get to see the queen?”
“The Seneschal will have told her we’re here already,” Bryony replied. “So we may be summoned.”
That sounded less than pleasant. “And if we’re not?”
“Then we will attend the court.”
“How long do we wait to decide which?”
Bryony frowned at me. “Patience, Fen. Time runs differently here.”
Was that supposed to make me feel better somehow? If so, it failed.
“Guess I’ll make myself comfortable, then.” I walked toward one of the low stone benches set in front of the nearest garden beds. There was a statue of a woman beside the bench and as I passed it, its head turned to watch me. I jumped half a foot, then caught myself as Saskia giggled.
Damned Fae tricks. I was half tempted to brush my chain against the statue to see if that had any effect on it, but that wouldn’t exactly be in keeping with the promise that Bryony had made.
Instead I frowned at the stone face, only to see the lips curve slowly into a smile. Which was somehow even more disturbing. Statues shouldn’t watch you or smile while they were doing it. I couldn’t help feeling that someone was inside the stone, looking out.
Hells, in this place that could well be true. I decided I didn’t need to sit down after all and walked back to where the rest of the party stood.
Saskia gazed around the courtyard with wary fascination. Liam stood next to Bryony, body poised for action. You could take a knight’s hand, but it seemed that it didn’t change his instincts to protect those he’d been charged to protect. I needed to remember that. Liam didn’t entirely approve of me. I doubted his opinion would improve any if he found out I was bedding his brother knight’s little sister.
Bryony looked composed, but her chain was as gray and dull as the overcast skies. I didn’t think she was as sanguine about being home as she pretended.
“How long is it since you’ve been here?” I asked.
“Not that long.” She looked around the courtyard with a frown. “A half dozen years or so.”
“Six years?” I blurted, then remembered that she was Fae. To a Fae six years was a drop in the bucket of their lifetime. Six years away from the Veiled World for a Fae was probably like a two-week trip to the country for a human.
I guessed we would find out. There was a soft rumble from the sky. Thunder. Perfect. Was it going to rain? Standing around waiting for the queen of the bloody Fae to summon us was one thing. Doing so while getting soaked was another entirely.
But no drops followed the thunder and Bryony made no move to leave. I wondered exactly what form a summons to the Veiled Court might take. Saskia had wandered over to the statue, who had now tilted her head to study Saskia. Saskia looked more fascinated than appalled. Of course, she’d known what to expect.
She reached out a hand, holding it a few inches from the surface of the marble. I wondered if she was using her powers.
Perhaps. A small spark leapt from the statue to Saskia and she yelped softly and drew her hand back quickly, shaking her fingers as if they burned.
