"How long has he been holding the block?" Nicholas asked.
"Lor," the nurse said. "I dinna notice. Sebastian, love, set the block down and rest yer hand."
Slowly the boy looked to his father, as if he had just heard Nicholas's voice. Nicholas made himself smile at Sebastian, but the boy did not smile back. Instead he gazed at Nicholas with intent gray eyes. Nicholas had no idea where the gray had come from. His eyes were blue and Jewel's were black. She once said that perhaps their combined colors gave Sebastian his unique features.
Sebastian turned his head toward the nurse. Then, carefully, he placed the block on the rug. He let his hand fall on his thigh, and then he didn't move.
"Have you tried playing with him?" Nicholas asked.
"Sire, tis the Mistresses orders. Twice a day, after we break fast, and afore dinner. Tis hard, too. Ye see how the boy moves. He dinna understand play."
Nicholas had heard that very sentence from Jewel, but didn't understand it himself. How could a child not understand play? It was as if the boy were just a shell with nothing inside. Nicholas had spoken to the healers. They had never seen anything like it, and they blamed Jewel.
They blamed him too, for bringing her to the palace, but they never said so.
They didn't dare.
He should have listened to his father. He should have believed the older council. But his father had botched the war, had caused thousands of deaths by not taking action, and had threatened his own life. Nicholas had not believed in his father's wisdom.
Nicholas had thought that if he brought a Fey into the family, the rest of the nation would follow.
He had thought the wedding would be enough. Jewel had seen that it would take more work, but she became involved in the pregnancy, the pregnancy they needed to cement the relationship and the truce, and she had lost her focus. She regained it after Sebastian was born, but lost her credibility with the palace staff. They thought that Sebastian was proof the marriage should not have been.
Nicholas's father ordered that no one except the nursing staff see Sebastian, but it was too late. Those that had seen him spread the news out of the palace. The fact that no one saw the boy at all led people to believe he was some kind of monster, that he looked odd. Finally, Nicholas and Jewel brought him to one of the public speeches so that people would see what a beautiful boy he was.
Beautiful, but empty.
Sebastian hadn't moved since the nurse told him to put the block down. Nicholas knelt beside his son. The boy raised his head. He didn't even have any curiosity. The movement was a reflex, like setting down the block, something he had been taught to do.
Nicholas stared into the boy's gray eyes. They were like flat shiny pebbles. "Sebastian," Nicholas whispered, hoping somehow that the sound of his name would bring out the promise of the boy's first week.
The boy continued to stare at him. Nicholas touched the boy's face, felt that smooth hard skin. Jewel's stomach felt like that now as the skin stretched tight over the child inside her.
A girl. Even if the child were normal, a girl would count against them. A girl could not take her brother's place, no matter what Jewel said. The Fey might accept a female ruler, but the Islanders never would. The only thing they could hope for was another son. Or, if they could not have that, then that Nicholas lived until his grandchildren were born.
That seemed very unlikely. He could die the next day. His father's death had shown him how vulnerable they all were. He had thought his father would live to be older than the 50th Rocaan. Instead he died at the same age as the current Rocaan, a young man by the standards of Blue Isle. A very young man according to the Fey.
Nicholas let go of his son's cheek. The boy brought up his own hand, and caressed Nicholas's cheek. The boy's hand was cool, but Nicholas leaned into it. His breath caught. Sebastian had never willingly touched him before.
So Jewel was right. There was change. It was just slow.
Sebastian let go of Nicholas's cheek in the same way that Nicholas had done. He did learn. And he could mimic. Maybe there was hope. Sebastian would never be the brains, but he might be the voice for his sister or his mother if the need be.
Nicholas's father was wrong. Hiding Sebastian was the worst thing they could do.
"Nurse," Nicholas said softly so that he wouldn't startle his son. "Dress Sebastian for the coronation. Then get yourself ready. We will have him sit near the peers."
The nurse set down her tapestry. "The Mistress said — "
"I don't care what the Mistress said. I want my son in that Hall."
"Yessir." She bobbed her head as she spoke to him, and that made him feel like a child himself.
"Do not let anyone else hold him. Do not let anyone touch him. Do not sit next to anyone. Is that clear?"
"Yessir."
"And bring him right back up here after the ceremony. Do not let his grandfather near him."
"His grandfather, Sire? His grandfather be dead, beg pardon, Sire."
"His grandfather," Nicholas said firmly, not letting himself get sidetracked by a grief he did not have time for. "Jewel's father."
The nurse nodded, but not before Nicholas saw the fear in her eyes. "I willna let ye down, Sire. I'll tend the boy with care, I will."
"Good." Nicholas stood. This decision felt right. The boy deserved more than a lonely life in this overheated room. No matter what his problems, he was a direct descendent of the Roca. He would always be the son of a King and a great-grandson of the Black King of the Fey.
Nicholas patted the boy's hand and then stood. "I'll see you in the Coronation Hall," he said to his son. The boy didn't understand, but he didn't need to.
Yet.
SEVENTEEN
The Coronation Hall looked like one of the banks in Nye. Rugar had made a room half this size into his bedroom when they had taken over Nye. His father used an entire bank as a palace even now. The Fey had never needed palaces and fine buildings. The Black King was Black King whether he had a fancy hall, a tent in the middle of a bloody field, or a Shadowlands floating silent and invisible above it all. A Black King's power rested within himself, not within a building.
Rugar stood at the double arched doors, his cloak swirling around him. The Hall was full of Island nobles. He had brought twenty of his own people, and had already sent them to the seats near the front. He preferred to stand here, and survey the Hall. Stand here and, with luck, see Jewel before the others did.
He had tried to go upstairs to visit her, but was told that she was dressing. As if Jewel ever spent time on clothing. But rituals were important to these people, and one of the important rituals during a Coronation, apparently, was making sure the Queen was properly dressed.
Rugar had worn his finest clothing too. A black cape woven with good luck wishes. His fighting boots. And a white shirt given him by Jewel's mother when Jewel was smaller than Gift. Unlike Jewel's wedding, this was a celebration. One step closer to Fey rule on the Isle.
One more step and Jewel could be Queen.
Burden, Hanouk, and others from the Settlement sat in the balconies overhanging the Hall. Rugar had noticed them the moment he came in, but did not acknowledge them. When Jewel gained control of the Isle — if Jewel gained control — Rugar would have Burden and his crew shot for traitors. They had no right starting that Settlement. It was in direct defiance to his orders. And, from the things Solanda had said, the Settlement was paying for that defiance. Their blessed sanctuary wasn't a safe harbor after all. They lived in constant fear.
It served them right.
The rest of the Hall was filled with Islanders. Some Rugar recognized from Jewel's wedding. Others he had never seen before. There were also an abundance of Black Robes. One had tried to seat him earlier, but Rugar had kept him back with a hiss and a glare. The Black Robes were as frightened of the Fey as the Fey were of the Black Robes. Only most Fey forgot to use that.
Up front, the Rocaan sat, his red robes marking him like a blood sacrifice. He
made Rugar nervous. The Rocaan had touched Jewel once, during the wedding, and Rugar had held a knife then, determined to use it if the Rocaan harmed anyone. Rugar had a knife this time, too, just as the rest of his people did. They all also had bladders of river water, in case things went wrong.
The Spell Warders had learned that the effects of the holy poison could be slowed, maybe even stopped, if the poison were diluted. Rugar had not had time or the chance to add river water to the vials of poison sitting on the table up front, but if something went wrong --if the Rocaan decided to use the holy poison as a weapon --then Rugar's people had the river water to spray on each other to slow and, with luck, stop the effects of the poison.
The river water might save lives.
If Rugar had to use it.
He hoped he wouldn't.
Solanda sat near the front, looking radiant in a tunic and pants of soft green. Her boots matched. Most of the Fey wore green at Rugar's request. He wanted Jewel to know they felt joy at the death of the King.
Burden's people did not wear green, however. They wore sedate browns and blacks. Proper everyday colors. Rugar shoved his hands in the pockets of his pants. He had never expected the Settlement to last as long as it had. Even with all the troubles that Solanda had reported, the Settlers hung on. Rugar understood their defiance, but not their determination. Perhaps they knew the punishment they would receive if they ever did return to the Shadowlands.
Two Black Robes passed him, pacing beside the arched doors. He leaned on the door jamb, startled at the cold of the stone. The Hall was warm, but he figured that was the press of bodies. He had not seen so many people sitting in one place before. This many people normally belonged only on a battlefield.
Where he belonged.
Where Jewel belonged.
She should be finding the secret to the Islanders' poison instead of standing beside their next King like a dutiful soldier. Perhaps Rugar hadn't done enough investigating himself. Perhaps the Islanders had some small magicks besides the poison. Perhaps they had the power to Charm.
A rustle in the corridor behind him made him turn. Three people walked toward him: his daughter, her Islander husband, and a woman Rugar did not recognize. The woman was carrying the stone that Jewel called a son.
Jewel had her right hand on top of her husband's left one, and they held their arms outstretched in a ceremonial walk. The new Islander King wore white ceremonial robes with red trim going down the side. A tiny silver sword hung around his neck. His head was noticeably bare, his blond hair combed back in preparation for his crown.
Jewel's hair flowed freely down her shoulders and back, kept off her face by a small cap made of pearls. The pearl trails ran through her hair as well, making her look like a decoration instead of a woman. Her gown matched Nicholas's robe. The high bodice made the gown arch over her stomach. Rugar squinted. It wasn't the bodice that made the arch. Jewel was pregnant again. He let out a small sigh. He didn't really want another grandchild in the Shadowlands, but she was leaving him no choice.
He put his hands on his hips. "You wear the colors of mourning," he said.
She wore shoes that added to her height. She was taller than her husband, almost as tall as her father. "This is not an occasion for celebration."
"I thought the welcoming of a new king was always a celebration."
"Not when the old King died before his time." Nicholas spoke sharply. His Fey was heavily accented, but fluent and clear. He stopped walking a few feet from Rugar.
The woman stopped too. The stone turned so that it could see. Amazing that it had survived this long. It was meant as a golem, and golems normally did not grow or learn. His daughter was powerful, more powerful than she realized.
"You were supposed to be sitting inside," Jewel said.
"I wanted to see you, to congratulate you on becoming Queen."
"You could have come at any time during the week. It would have been courtesy to pay your respects."
Rugar smiled. "I had none to pay."
Color flooded Nicholas's face. "My father bargained with you in good faith."
"Your father killed Fey."
"My father did not ask for an invasion of his Isle."
"Your father should have been prepared for one."
"Stop!" Jewel moved between them. Her skirts rustled as she moved, the sound Rugar had heard earlier. As she looked back and forth between her father and her husband, the pearls in her hair tapped each other. "This will get us nowhere."
"Like the marriage," Rugar said.
"If you had helped, if you had tried, maybe things would have moved quicker," Jewel said. Her eyes were sparkling. He could feel her rage as if it were a live thing. "You don't even ask to visit me. Or your grandson."
Rugar looked at the stone. It had put a finger in its mouth and was staring at him. Its eyes were flat and gray, but not quite empty. Not empty enough. They seemed to reflect something he had seen before.
"I do not consider this thing my grandson," he said.
"No matter what you consider my son," she snapped, "he is your grandson."
Rugar looked away from the stone. He would not tell her. He could not tell her. If he told her, she would sneak into Shadowlands and steal Gift herself. "Yes," he said as levelly as he could. "I suppose he is."
"So visit him," Jewel said. "Treat us like a family. If you act like we're family, the rest of the Fey will follow. The rest of the Isle will follow. We made an agreement. It's time to uphold it."
Rugar looked her in the eyes. She had lost her understanding of the Fey tradition. Fey did not uphold bargains. Fey subverted them; Fey used them to suit Fey needs. "You made a bargain, daughter. Not me. I still hold war council in Shadowlands."
"With half your people," Nicholas said.
"The best half," Rugar said.
"If you made war council, you would still be fighting battles." Jewel pushed herself closer to him. Her skin had a rose-scent he had never noticed before. "You are hiding in Shadowlands. The Black King's son Rugar, Greatest Warrior of them all, hiding from water for five years."
"I'm not hiding," he said.
"But you're not fighting, either. You're not negotiating, and you're not cooperating. What are you doing, Father? Waiting for the Spell Warders to find the secret to holy water? Waiting for Grandfather to show up and save you? Is this how you became the Greatest Warrior of all time?"
Rugar grabbed her arm and pulled her close. Her skirts rustled in protest. "At least, I don't prostitute myself in exchange for safety."
Nicholas took a step toward them, but Jewel shook her father's hand free before Nicholas could get any closer.
"Safety?" she said. "Does this look like safety to you? Every day, I face the threat you hide from. Every day, I put my faith in the bargain you deny. Every day. And if Grandfather does arrive, I will tell him about your courage, Father. I will tell him how you hid while I found a way to save our people."
"Our people haven't been saved. Look at your friend Burden. His Settlement is as useful as that thing you call a child."
"Integration takes time," Jewel said.
"That's what we used to tell the conquered," Rugar said.
"And who defeated us, Father? It wasn't Good King Alexander. It was you. Mistake after mistake after mistake. The first being your refusal to admit you have gone Blind."
"I haven't gone Blind." But he had to look away from her as he said that. He hadn't had a real Vision since the Invasion itself, and Jewel was convinced that the Vision that led them all the Isle had been one of their defeat. "Don't go in there, Jewel. Don't ally yourself with them any farther. Take that child you carry and come home."
"This is my home," she said. "I still have Vision. I know I made the right choice."
Nicholas reached across toward her. "She is my wife. She belongs beside me."
"No," Rugar said. "She is the Black King's Granddaughter. She should be beside no one. If she didn't marry you, she would rule half the world someday."<
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"Wrong, Father," Jewel said, taking Nicholas's hand. "If I hadn't followed you on a crazy scheme to save your reputation, I would have been Black Queen. Now the best I can hope for is Queen of Blue Isle."
"When the Black King arrives, you will regret this," Rugar said.
"If the Black King arrives," Jewel said. "And if he does, you had best hope I have this Isle unified because I will give you sanctuary."
"I won't need sanctuary."
Fey 02 - Changeling Page 20
