Changeling Illusion (Thirteen Realms Book 3)

by Marina Finlayson

  Merritt didn’t seem to understand the significance of the island that was passing before his eyes, but Lady Brona most certainly did. Her face paled even more than her husband’s had done, and she swayed in her seat a moment, as if she were about to faint.

  The murmurings in the crowd had grown so loud that the king broke off his speech, turning to check the progress of the homecoming island. When he turned back to his audience, his face bore a wolfish grin.

  “But behold! This tale does, in fact, have a happy ending.” His voice rang out above the noise and the people stilled, all eyes turning back to him, sensing a story to come. “We are witnesses to a historic moment, my friends.”

  Arlo sailed over the first and largest of the islands of Illusion, its trailing roots and clods of earth barely clearing the ruined tower of the castle.

  “What you see before you is a miracle in truth. Real magic, if you will. It seems Lord Kellith didn’t manage to kill off all the Illusionists after all.”

  The crowd gasped almost as one as he so baldly named his brother-in-law as the murderer of a whole Realm, but the king continued, ignoring the look of fury on Kellith’s face.

  “Arlo was saved that night by the magic of Air, and now the magic of Air and Earth will return it to its rightful place.”

  He held up his hands as a hubbub arose among the crowd. Everyone was standing now, craning their necks to see what was happening. Arlo hovered over an empty stretch of water between two islands. This must be its original resting place. Slowly, the island began to sink. The queen stood up, so I felt justified in doing so, too, and took the opportunity to move closer to Kyrrim, who was still on guard at the rear of the dais.

  Though it was quite some distance away, Arlo glowed with faelight, and I could make out figures moving on the surface of the sinking island. One of them had large black wings. That must be Raven. Probably the little knot of people gathered beside him were the Air mages. I wondered where Yriell was.

  “Now I must go and assist my sister,” the king said. “You are welcome to watch, if it pleases you.”

  As if it wouldn’t please anyone to witness such a historic event. Well, anyone but Kellith and his family. The Lord of Summer glanced, white-faced with fury, at the queen, then fell into step beside her as we all hurried along the riverbank after the king.

  Rothbold didn’t go far. He stepped out onto the ford, and I blinked. For a moment, I thought he was walking on water, but then I realised that the earth and rock of the ford had risen up through the shallows to meet him. Without getting a drop of water on him, Rothbold made his way out into the middle of the river.

  None of the nobles followed him, though not for lack of trust in his earthcrafting abilities. A sense of a historical moment in the making seemed to keep the gathered Lords and Ladies confined to the riverbank. I took a moment to run my eye over the crowd of nobles. Kellith, of course, was furious at the impending loss of his stolen territory, and had a face like a thundercloud. The queen’s wasn’t much better. It seemed to me that Queen Ceinwen had much preferred her husband when he was missing, presumed dead.

  The Lords of Winter and Night stood together, both their faces showing more than polite interest in the proceedings. Lord Nox, Raven’s father, looked positively delighted as he watched the show. My eye was drawn to a shock of red hair in the crowd—Willow’s father, Lord of Spring. He and his lady were more circumspect in their enjoyment, though I got the sense that they were, indeed, enjoying it. Eldric’s face was carefully expressionless; he was ever the consummate politician. But even the Lord of Day, formerly Kellith’s staunchest ally, was keeping a distance from the Lord of Summer. Indeed, a noticeable gap had opened up around the Lord and Lady of Summer and their son. Silently, I exulted at this, the first nail in the coffin of Kellith’s power and influence.

  I turned back to Rothbold, not wanting to miss a minute of the proceedings. He had his arms outstretched, as if in welcome, as did a small figure on the island itself. Yriell. The two siblings regarded each other across the expanse of water that separated them. Some silent communication must have passed between them, for a deep rumble arose from the depths of the river and the water underneath the hovering island began to boil and bubble.

  I glanced at Kyrrim, who stood on the shore closest to Rothbold, carefully blocking access to the ford. His gaze was not on his king or on the spectacle unfolding before us, but on the crowd. Ever the faithful protector, his eyes roamed over the gathered nobles, on the watch for trouble. I met that tawny gaze briefly, then turned back to the river in time to see fingers of rock thrust upward from the water.

  Were the king’s arms trembling? With baited breath, I watched him for signs of strain, sure that the earth and rocks that were climbing out of the water to greet the incoming island were his doing. Involuntarily, my gaze was drawn back to the island, wondering what Yriell was doing, and I realised that as the island sank ever lower towards its intended resting place, tree roots were writhing eagerly, as if they sought the water.

  It seemed to me that the hovering island twisted to the right slightly, as if it were a piece in some giant puzzle that Yriell was trying to put together. Clearly, she was determined to have everything aligned just so. Straining my eyes against the darkness, I made out rocks protruding from the bottom of the island aligning with holes in the earth that Rothbold had pulled from the bottom of the lake.

  The two pieces, top and bottom, slid together even closer until there was no gap to be seen between them. I half expected some kind of click as they slotted perfectly together, but if there was, it was inaudible over the sound of the earth shifting and the rocks grinding together.

  I thought that was it, but then the island sank as smoothly as if it moved on rails, dropping back down toward the water so that all the earth and rock the king had raised as its foundation disappeared again beneath the surface.

  A flash of green light rippled out from the island and lit the sky, washing over the faces of the watchers, and the king lowered his arms. Arlo was finally settled.

  There wasn’t a peep from the watching crowd. No applause. No one moved or spoke, not even in a whisper, while Rothbold wiped the sweat from his brow. He remained standing in the middle of the ford, his face turned toward the island as if expecting something, and the crowd held its breath.

  I knew what he was awaiting; the council had planned every moment of this over the last few days. Soon, the watchers were rewarded with the sight of seven beautiful barges, which appeared from the far side of the island, sliding smoothly through the dark waters of the river. Each one’s prow was shaped like the head of a rainbow drake, and the drake’s glittering wings swept back along the low sides of each barge. They were elegant and beautiful, though the faces of the carved drakes were drawn into a snarl that I had never seen on the face of a real one. This, too, had been carefully considered, and was the council’s subtle reminder to the gathered Lords that Illusion was no longer a weak victim, but had strengths of its own. Anyone who tried to test our borders would discover that we were not unwilling to defend ourselves.

  Each barge was decked out in the green and white of Illusion, and the rainbow drake banner of Lord Perony’s house flew proudly from each stern. Now, at last, the gathered crowd began to murmur as if a spell had been broken, each person turning to their neighbour to remark or exclaim. I stood next to the queen and said nothing, keeping my face carefully expressionless.

  “Good people,” the king said as the barges drew closer. “You were promised a feast, but the location has changed.” He smiled at Lord Eldric, who was standing on the shore next to Raven’s father. “Your work will not be wasted, however, Eldric.”

  An Air mage rose from the deck of each barge. In perfect synchronisation, each mage gestured at the tables laden with the prepared feast. Like obedient ducks, the tables rose into the air and floated in an orderly line toward the island.

  “They’d better not spill any of my wine,” Eldric said, and the crowd laughe
d, releasing the built-up tension.

  The king strolled back along the ford to join the rest of the nobles. “All aboard,” he shouted, waving at the barges. “Our feast awaits us. I, for one, am starving. Anchoring islands is hungry work.”

  23

  I had never seen the great hall of Arlo’s castle so full before. Perhaps no one had. All the Lords and their Ladies feasted at two long tables, with the king at the head of one and the queen at the head of the other. Morwenna and Tirgen were seated at the king’s table with me, but they were too far away for me to talk to. Kellith was on my right, and Willow’s mother on my left. It could have been worse—at least Merritt was on the queen’s table. Not that he appeared exactly inconsolable at being separated from his intended. He was already deep in conversation with a pretty woman with poppies in her hair.

  The rest of the councillors and many of the Arlo folk I recognised were seated at lower tables in the vast room, which was looking a lot smaller than usual with all these people crammed into it. The rest, presumably, were outside with the retinues of the Lords. Another great feast was laid out in the courtyard under the stars for them. The great hall was large, but not large enough to accommodate everyone the king had invited.

  I saw Lirra among the crowd in the hall and smiled at her before I remembered who I was supposed to be. Hastily, I schooled my expression back into Lily’s habitual look of disapproval.

  “Who are all these people?” Kellith muttered to me, surveying the tables of commoners. “And what on earth are they wearing?”

  It was true that the clothes of the Illusionists weren’t as grand as those of the gathered Lords and Ladies. They were also a little behind the current fashions. But that was no reason for Kellith to curl his lip like that.

  “I assume they’re the few Illusionists you didn’t manage to kill, Uncle,” I said, poisonously sweet.

  He gave me a startled glance, then decided I was joking and chuckled. “Perhaps I should have tried harder, eh?”

  The main course had already been cleared away, though I had barely tasted what I’d eaten. Being forced to make polite conversation over dinner with Kellith certainly hadn’t done wonders for my appetite. I couldn’t wait for this charade to be over so I could slip back into my own skin, though I was becoming increasingly concerned about exactly how I was supposed to manage that while still playing the role of the princess.

  Maybe Lily could be “too upset” to remain at the feast after the engagement drama was over. That was my current plan, anyway, though I was screwed if the queen decided to comfort her daughter. But what were the odds of that happening? I was convinced Queen Ceinwen had a block of ice for a heart. She would have made a perfect Winter fae.

  “You have a strange collection of guests here, sire.” Kellith waved a silk-clad arm that encompassed all the Illusionists at the lower tables.

  Morwenna gave him a hard glance from her seat halfway down our table, but she was beneath his notice. He was too busy trying to stare down the king, who was paying more attention to his wine than his brother-in-law.

  “How so?” the king asked in a bored voice.

  “Is this all that Illusion has to offer now? Fishermen and shopkeepers? How is it to stand as a Realm on its own? You can’t have a Realm without a Lord.”

  “Or a Lady,” the king said mildly.

  Kellith waved a dismissive hand. “Semantics, Rothbold. No one of noble blood survives to take the reins of this pathetic little island. These people would be much better off remaining part of Summer.”

  “If you want to discuss semantics, they can hardly ‘remain’ a part of something they have never been part of.”

  “I have ruled this territory for twenty years. I’m not giving it up to a handful of peasants,” Kellith blustered. “The Realms have always had hereditary rulers. If you start changing that now, you imperil your own family’s claim to the throne.”

  He sat back and looked around at the other Lords at the table, confident that he’d made a winning argument. Some of them had probably never even heard of democracies and republics, or if they had, only as something to be feared or despised. They certainly weren’t a notion to be entertained here. The fae didn’t like change. A couple of faces looked troubled, and I hoped the king soon put an end to this kind of talk.

  “Fortunately, we won’t have to change anything, Kellith,” the king said, still in that mild, vaguely uninterested tone. “As it happens, there is an heir—one last survivor who carries Lord Perony’s blood in her veins.”

  That caught the attention of all the Lords, even the ones at the queen’s table.

  “An heir?” Lord Nox asked. “Who?”

  “And where is she?” Kellith added.

  “Lady Allegra is Lord Perony’s niece,” the king said. “Daughter of his sister, Orlah.”

  “Not in the direct line of succession, then,” Kellith said at once.

  Rothbold fixed Kellith with a cold look. “You didn’t leave a lot of choice after your bloodbath, my Lord of Summer. But there is precedent. People with less connection to the noble line have inherited before. Even in your own House.”

  Kellith knew that, of course, but he was determined to put every obstacle possible in the way of the king’s plans.

  “If there is an heir, surely she should be here?” Willow’s father asked.

  “Exactly.” Kellith pounced on this suggestion. “If there is an heir. Surely you’re not speaking of your little changeling pet? Do you seriously think you can pass her off as a noble to the Lords and Ladies of the Realms?”

  Kellith knew full well I was of Illusion. This seemed desperate, even for him. The reappearance of Arlo must have seriously thrown him. He had his spies so deeply embedded in the palace that he was used to knowing every little thing that was going on. The fact that we’d managed to keep such an important secret from him had left him grasping at straws.

  “I don’t care for your tone, my lord,” the king said, finally throwing off his nonchalant air. “In fact, there are a lot of things I don’t like about you, Kellith. Not least of which is your persistent ambition to betroth your son to my daughter. Lily is too young to be betrothed. I will not hear of any such talk until she is of age, and I assure you right now, in front of all these witnesses, that a match with Summer will never be considered, at any age.”

  “What?”

  Another bombshell, dropped without any warning. Oh, I was enjoying this.

  At the next table, Queen Ceinwen put down her cup so hard that wine sloshed over the side, staining the snowy tablecloth red. “Rothbold! What is the meaning of this?”

  “You said you would announce their betrothal tonight!” Kellith’s face was red with fury. “What treachery is this?”

  Even Merritt was paying attention for once, probably afraid that his gravy train was chugging off into the distance without him.

  “Do not speak to me of treachery!” the king thundered, his patience exhausted at last. “If you were not my wife’s brother, you would be swinging from the gallows by now, you snake.”

  Oops. So much for diplomacy. Still, he had managed to capture the attention of everyone in the room. Some had even frozen with their cups halfway to their mouths, astonished at this outburst from the usually controlled king.

  The king glared into his enemy’s eyes. “Your son will never marry my daughter.”

  “Surely the wishes of the princess herself count for something?” Kellith spat back.

  “Indeed they do. Tell him, Lily.”

  All eyes turned to me. My time had finally come—it was hard not to smile. “I do not love Merritt,” I said. “I never have, and I never will. I refuse to marry him.”

  Kellith slammed a fist down on the table, making the crockery jump. “You have enchanted her!” he roared. “There is some conspiracy at work here. Lily, what has he done to you?”

  “Nothing, Uncle. I merely speak my mind at last, sure of my father’s backing. I find it interesting that your mind immediate
ly leaps to conspiracies. They say that people accuse others of their own character failings.”

  Kellith’s outrage was drowned out by the hubbub that arose. If I’d thought his face red before, that was nothing to the shade it took on now. With any luck, the arsehole would have a stroke right here and save us all a lot of trouble.

  A voice rose above the shouting, and heads began to turn towards the door. A new figure strode in, heading straight for the king, and I almost said something extremely unprincess-like when I saw who it was.

  What the hell? I glanced uncertainly at the king, but he was staring at the Dragon in shock.

  He wasn’t half as shocked as I was, though, considering last time I’d seen this guy, he’d been deader than Saturday night at the library. Or so I’d thought. Clearly, there were more degrees of dead than I’d realised.

  At any rate, he looked fighting fit as he knelt before the king.

  “Ebos? I thought you were dead.”

  The Dragon flashed a brief smile. “It was a near thing, sire. I woke in a cave full of trolls just as they were about to add me to the cooking pot.” He looked up at the king, his smile fading. “But I have failed you, sire. You charged me to protect Allegra Brooks on her quest, and she is dead.”

  “Allegra Brooks is dead?” Kellith echoed, a grin of triumph splitting his face. “The same Lady Allegra you were just trying to foist on us as the new Lady of Illusion, brother? Why, what a coincidence. No wonder you won’t produce this so-called heir—she’s dead!” He looked around at the assembled nobles. “Now my talk of conspiracy doesn’t seem so far-fetched, does it, my lords?”

  “Really, Uncle, have a little dignity.” This was my cue. Time for Princess Lily to retire and Lady Allegra to return. I rose, ready to leave the hall and find somewhere private to transform.

  Kellith caught my wrist. “Not so fast, my dear. I think your kingdom needs you.”