by Ann Gimpel
Rona’s body had been placed within a circle of wooden staves. Far below me, Cyn and Aedan chanted, consigning her to cleansing magefire. It crackled around the unicorn, driven by the magic that had spawned it and burning with a mind of its own. If the words Cyn chanted were true, Rona would live on forever in a Valhalla-like place, or rather her spirit would.
Her death saddened me. It had been the work of someone truly evil. They’d have to reside within Faery’s boundaries to ply their maliciousness. It was horrendous news to tell Cynwrigg, but I had no choice. If he knew, he could scour far and wide and root out whatever wished to sow discontent in this enchanted place.
My money was on Oberon. I drew back and pulled the window into place, latching it. Where was Titania? Mother had always spoken of them as a unit, but my contract had only been with him. More pertinently—since perhaps she didn’t dirty her hands with business matters—Cyn never mentioned her. Had she retired to the Dreaming? Mouthed off one too many times and been banished?
If I got a vote, it would be for something like the latter.
The group ranged around the bier were singing now. Something in a minor key in Gaelic that made my heart hurt. Cyn had said emotions were rawer here, closer to the surface. I’d just downed another glass of water I’d fetched from a bathroom done up in white marble, when someone knocked on Cyn’s door.
It couldn’t be him. He’d just walk through a wall or something. Even if my ward wouldn’t be much of a deterrent, I built a hasty one and ducked into the largest of the armoires. It was a tight fit with rows of pants and jackets at staggered heights, but I wouldn’t have to be in here long, either.
I hoped.
Sure enough, the knob turned and the door to Cynwrigg’s rooms creaked open. “Come out, come out wherever you are,” a high-pitched voice invited.
Like fuck I will.
I couldn’t see through the thick cherrywood of the armoire, but my magical senses are well-honed, so I relied on them in conjunction with my ears and nose. My unexpected visitor was Fae and male and quite mad since he kept on chanting that single line from a children’s game.
Heavy footsteps were accompanied by the distinctive feel of Cyn’s energy. “What are you doing in my rooms, Ysir?”
“Someone broke in, Regent. Yes, they did. I felt them. I smelled them. Fee, fi, foe, fum, I smell the—”
“Enough. Leave now.”
“But, Regent—”
“We’re all on edge today. Return to your library, Ysir. Do it now.”
Even buried in the armoire I felt the blast of coercion that went along with Cyn’s orders.
“Aye, my lord. Right away my lord.” Footsteps pattered down a hall I’d never seen. The heavy door slammed shut, and I exited the wardrobe as quietly as I could manage.
“Who in the hell—” I began, but Cyn lifted a finger to his mouth. Yeah. Good advice. I switched to telepathy, although magic is sometimes easier to sense than words are to hear. “Who was that?”
“The librarian. He’s been…off for many, many years, but there’s nothing wrong with his magic. Still, I don’t understand how he picked up on your presence here.”
I crossed the room to where Cyn stood. “There’s something I have to tell you.”
“Can it wait? I only returned because I sensed Ysir was here.”
I shook my head. “No. It can’t. It might be the lynchpin that brings everything into focus.” Without stopping, I launched into what I’d dredged out of the dead unicorn’s mind.
8
Chapter Eight, Cyn
I listened to Dariyah with a spreading sense of horror as we stood toe-to-toe with one another. Who would target unicorns? The most whimsical of magical creatures, they were loved and valued by all. Which was precisely why they’d been chosen. To make a point. And a vicious one at that. And then there was the legend about unicorn deaths portending the end of Faery.
“Cyn?” Dariyah’s green eyes bored into me.
Strategies flashed through my mind, each of them imperfect and discarded almost as soon as they appeared. I pinched the bridge of my nose to encourage rational thought. I was outraged, wound too tightly to make anything akin to a logical decision.
“Has anything like this happened before?” Dariyah asked. She’d shelved telepathy, but Ysir was long gone.
“Nay. Never.” I reverted to Gaelic, a sure indicator of my mental turmoil.
“You must have enemies,” she persisted.
I shook my head. “Dragons are our allies. A strike against us is the same as a strike against them. No one has ever been willing to alienate them. The consequences for such an act would be disastrous.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “Dragons, eh? I’d love to meet one, but it’s beside the point.” She raked a hand through her thick curls. “It appears you have a brand-new problem.”
“Pfft. Would that it were only one.” I held up a hand, counting off on my fingers. “Oberon is on the rampage, determined to recraft Faery in his image of a Fae-only realm. The land is crying out for help, perhaps slowly dying. Or not so slowly. And now you tell me darkness has violated our borders and is wreaking havoc.”
“They’re all related. They’d almost have to be. I don’t believe in coincidental catastrophes.” Dariyah closed her teeth over her lower lip and bit hard enough to leave small impressions.
“No doubt.” My jaws were clenched. I relaxed them so my next words wouldn’t come out garbled. “I need to call an emergency session of our court. It will provide an opportunity for everyone to weigh in.”
I must have scoured her with a speculative glance because she frowned. “What? Have I suddenly grown a second head?”
I raised a hand in front of me, changed my mind, and touched one of hers. “Nothing like that. I’m figuring out what has to happen next. I can’t bring you to court. I can’t leave you here. If something about your magical emanations caught Ysir’s attention, it could easily happen again. Perhaps not with him, but with another of Faery’s residents.”
“I understand. I was planning to leave soon anyway.” In contrast to her words, her shoulders slumped, and she looked away.
I placed a finger beneath her chin, tilting it until she met my gaze again. “Understanding something and accepting it are not the same. I’m sorry. I’d like nothing better than for circumstances to be different.”
She nodded once. “I get it. You have to provide leadership. If anyone figures out what I am, that you broke a cardinal rule by bringing me to Faery for anything other than my funeral, their confidence in you will be called into question.”
Her insight was so accurate, it fascinated me. I should have hightailed it back to the courtyard. Instead, I gathered her close and held her against me. “Do you have to be so damned noble? Can’t you beat your breast and scream it’s not fair?”
She threaded her arms around me. “What good would it do? I’ve had my moments—lots of them—when I hated everyone who walked beneath Faery’s skies. Resented both Fae and Sidhe who’d dumped me into an untenable position. And then I pulled my head out of my ass and stopped feeling sorry for myself. Besides, my presence here puts Mother at risk. If anyone figures out what I am, they’ll see her blood within me.”
Raucous bugling snapped my head around.
“Dragons! Those are dragons.” Dariyah wriggled out of my embrace and ran to a window. By the time she got there, all I felt was energy. She’d cloaked herself, becoming invisible. Smart of her. Dragons don’t miss much.
I joined her half expecting to see an entire flight of wyrms darkening Faery’s skies. It would mean Fire Mountain’s volcanoes had upped the ante, and the dragons’ world had vanished beneath a flood of molten rocks. Breath rattled from my lungs when I only counted three. Someone was looking out for me. I did not want an influx of close to a hundred dragons on top of everything else.
“Oooohhhhh, they’re magnificent,” Dariyah crooned. “Simply incredible. What a treat.”
I made an effort to see
them through her eyes. To mine, they were problem number four. I’d forgotten about them when I was listing all the difficulties facing us. “They’re here for a reason,” I cautioned her. “Their world is experiencing its own set of troubles.”
She stepped away from the windows and dropped her ward. “They live in a place called Fire Mountain, right?”
“Aye. They do. It’s a hot, barren place. All rocks and sand with twin suns that put out an ungodly amount of heat, but the dragons adore it. The land is ringed with volcanoes. Last time they showed up here, it was to warn us.”
“About?” Dariyah craned her neck to sneak another peek at the dragons. Below window level, they were circling to land.
“Several of the volcanoes were erupting. They feared it would become universal, and their world would be destroyed. If that occurred, they planned to relocate here, but I suggested they hunt for a place better suited to their needs.”
“It can’t be coincidental.” She repeated her earlier skepticism.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
She drew herself up straighter after a final glance outside. “Your problems here and their problems there must be linked somehow.”
“Aye. I thought much the same since our lands are connected. One more issue to toss before the court. Many minds often perceive what a single one misses. See you back on Earth.”
“Yes. You will. I’ll attempt to make progress locating the rift, and I need to find another apartment.” She smiled. “No worries. I have plenty to do today.”
I didn’t want her to leave. It was irrational and downright dangerous. What she’d said about my subjects losing faith in me if her presence were discovered was spot on. I’d never given a second thought to how arbitrary some of our laws were, but now wasn’t the time to start picking them apart.
She moved close to me, rose on tiptoe, and kissed me once, urgent and sweet, before twirling out of reach. Mid-twirl, she vanished through a space in the air that sewed itself shut behind her. It was an elegant move, one designed for subtlety and to cover all traces of her presence in my rooms.
More bugling lit a fire under me. I dashed through the door and ran briskly down several flights of stairs and a long corridor leading to a side door into the courtyard. I didn’t ever pay much attention to Dubrova castle, but it’s a grand place decorated with priceless art in all forms: wall-hangings, sculptures, figurines, crystals, charms, paintings, cunningly woven carpets. Made of glass and stone and wood and magic, the castle changed from day to day. Sometimes corridors no longer led where I expected them to.
Today, my path was direct. Perhaps the structure sensed my need for haste. Maybe it had detected Dariyah’s presence and alerted Ysir. Something had. The ancient librarian was usually buried in dusty tomes and scrolls. On a good day, he remembered who I was, but usually he mistook me for Oberon.
The unicorn had been reduced to a heap of glowing ashes. Everyone was still singing or chanting our dirge for the departed. The dragons, a different batch than the ones who’d arrived last time, stood next to one another. Plumes of smoky ash puffed from their open mouths. The largest of the three was a red male. The two smaller ones were also male and had golden scales. Dragon eyes are mystical. Spinning like pinwheels, they’re a burnished golden color with deep green centers. I hoped Dariyah had gotten a good look.
I walked to Aedan’s side and stood waiting for the dirge to draw to a close. Soir was crying. My heart went out to her. She’d been as much a victim as Rona. Dragon tears form gemstones. Unicorn tears turn to little chunks of gold that match their horns.
“Where have you been?” Aedan bent close to my ear.
“Dealing with Ysir. He was in my quarters and delusional.”
Aedan shrugged. “So what else is new?”
I changed the subject to draw his curiosity away from my absence. “Have you been to Fire Mountain?”
“Aye. I went right after we talked about it. The volcanoes hadn’t grown worse. My next trip there is scheduled for tomorrow.”
“Hmmm. Do you know why the dragons are here?”
Aedan shook his head. “Not a clue.”
“I’ll be calling an emergency session of court right after this. Spread the word, please.”
He looked askance at me, but the questions I saw in his mind didn’t emerge from his mouth. Good, because I wouldn’t have answered any of them. Not yet. I was still considering how everything slotted together.
I made my way to the dragons and inclined my head. The dirge was winding down. Once it ended, I said, “Welcome, although I fear today is a sad occasion. How may I assist you?”
“Our seers bring tidings,” the red dragon intoned. “Rather than carry the information—and miss some of the nuances—I took the liberty of bringing them with me.”
The two gold dragons opened scaled lids and swiveled their heads my way. Rather than gold and green, their eyes were a milky white. Blind. They must be blind. It was almost de rigueur for seers, as if shutting off their usual manner of sight was required to open psychic channels.
“I’ve just called an emergency session of the Fae court,” I told them. “Please join us. You can share your prophecies and remain if you wish to take part in the ensuing discussion.”
“We accept,” one of the golds said.
“Will we fit in the room?” the other asked.
“Of course,” I told him. “The court chambers were constructed to accommodate all of Faery’s subjects.”
“We are no one’s subjects,” the red dragon informed me and covered me with a cloud of smoke that made me cough.
“Oberon made that error,” one of the golds said.
“You’d do well not to repeat it,” the other chimed in.
“Oberon made a lot of mistakes,” I told them. “Follow me inside, and if you could keep the smoke and ash to a minimum—”
“We’re housebroken.” The red dragon laughed uproariously. Plumes of fiery ash spewed from his mouth.
Glad he had a sense of humor—something I’d never have guessed—I led the way to the castle’s massive front doors. The dragons wouldn’t have fit through the side entrance I’d used to access the courtyard. Wings spread for balance, they trudged up the broad, shallow steps leading inside.
Like all castles, the interior of Dubrova was designed with the idea of a warrior in full armor riding a horse through its primary corridor. Not that there were horses in Faery. Unicorns only looked like horses. So far as I knew, they’d never suffered anyone on their backs.
The court chamber opened to the right. I spoke a few words, and the illusory curtain hiding it from view dropped away. I stepped aside and motioned the dragons to go on in. I assumed they’d settle without instructions from me. So far we were the only ones here, but the relative solitude didn’t last long. Aedan and the eleven other current delegates trooped in and took their usual spots around a long, U-shaped wooden table, I glanced at the elegant space. Paneled in rare dark wood, it was lit by a row of crystalline windows set high in the far wall. Shelves were piled with the lore scrolls we referred to most often.
Setting a brisk pace, I took my spot at the head of the table. After all this time, it should feel more like mine, but I still felt like a placeholder. I needed to get over that. I scanned the delegates. A rotating task, we traded off every two years. I was the only constant on the court. The current group consisted of half-a-dozen Fae, three Sidhe, one unicorn, and two satyrs. I’d have liked it better if Fae weren’t a majority, but delegates were elected by popular vote.
The unicorn whinnied. “Before we begin,” he said, “I’m worried about Soir. She’s been ramming her horn into trees and rocks since the…accident. She swears she has no memory of the event, and she blames herself. Even though it flies in the face of logic, I believe her.”
“If the court is in agreement”—I kept my tone formal—“I would like to include Soir for the first part of what I have to tell you.”
“Why?” the unicorn asked.
“If it will make her feel guiltier—”
“It won’t.” I interrupted him. “Do I have special consideration from the court regarding my request?”
Right hands shot up, the universal sign for yes. I felt a jolt of the unicorns’ distinctive brand of magic. Moments later the sound of hoofs cantering on wood was followed by Soir’s long neck craning through the doorway. The hair around her eyes was matted with tears.
“It’s all right. Please enter,” I told the unicorn. She made a dash for her kinsman who sat on our court and stood behind him making little snuffling noises that hurt my heart. I draped a sound shield around the chamber. It earned me some surprised looks. We’d never felt the need to protect our discussions from others in Faery, but I wasn’t taking any chances.
Because I couldn’t tell them about Dariyah, I said, “Earlier, I sensed someone was in my rooms, so I left the funeral to investigate. I found Ysir, more unhinged than usual, and sent him back to the library. So long as I was several floors up—and not likely to disturb the funeral—I pushed a window open and cast a spell to tap into Rona’s memories of her last moments.
A tortured whinny burst from Soir. “I should leave. I’ll end myself. No reason for any of the rest of you to waste even one more moment on my misery, and—”
“Do not jump to conclusions.” I shook a finger her way. “Hear me out.” I hurried to describe the darkness that had descended on the two unicorns, and the result.
Outraged squawks and shouts ran around the courtroom. Above them, I heard Soir. Ears pricked forward, she whinnied, “So it truly wasn’t my fault?”
“Nay. It was not. You may go now, but I wanted you to hear the truth for yourself.”
“Why’d they pick Rona and me?” she demanded.
