Page 36

36

OLD FRIENDS AND NEW ENEMIES

Darina

“W hat do you mean, married?” I ask, again.

My mind quite simply isn’t wrapping around the concept.

Caenan smirks smugly. “An union with a fae doesn’t need cake and an audience, my queen. Only the word of one of the folk. And I gave mine to your sister.”

I shake my head, staring at Rachel. “And you’re fine with that?”

She beams up at him, delighted.

Clearly, she’s more than fine with that.

“Right. Well, that sounds good to me.” Or rather, it sounded insane, but it was also the least of my problem.

In fact, it solves quite a few of my problems. Caenan is clearly serious about protecting her. And she can no longer be forced into servitude, because the idiot gave it all away to Caenan. Still, it’s crazy she’s this happy about it days after losing her fiancé.

Then again, Ben was a tool.

“Shall we return to the den of vipers?”

The atmosphere’s completely changed from yesterday when I enter the hall. Given the smirks, the raised eyebrows and knowing looks, I take it that Valdred was successful in his endeavor. I feel my cheeks heat from anger I have to swallow down, rather than embarrassment.

The fact that my sex life is the object of intense scrutiny is ridiculous. I understand it; I like and trust Ryther. Those who dislike and mistrust him don’t want me at his beck and call. Still, I feel more like a call girl than a queen.

I’m wearing another terribly pretty dress, which feels less formal than either one of those Relva chose for the last two days. Somewhat Grecian, in light blue muslin, it’s gathered at the waist with a large bow and stitched with a gold floral theme at the hem. Not quite my style, but at least it doesn’t appear like I climbed straight out of a Tudor court. I could even imagine myself putting something like this on back home—for the fanciest of weddings, not a random Tuesday, but whatever.

“What day of the week is it?” I wonder out loud.

“Frey’s,” Loch responds.

I consider whether asking for clarification is likely to give me a headache.

Loch sees my scrunched-up nose and decides for me. “There are about thirty human hours for each of our days, which makes comparing time rather complicated. But we have four seasons, ten months, and yes, seven days of the week. There aren’t workdays as such, however. We seldom stop seeing to our affairs; the wild ones do whatever wild creatures want to do—ask your husband, I’ve no clue—the working class works, and the ruling class rules.”

“They don’t get days off?” I ask.

Shit, are all the people walking around with trays, preparing the food, cleaning up after each bacchanal slaves? I shouldn’t be surprised after what happened to me, but Ilvaris never ceases to shock me with its barbaric ways.

“I don’t know many servants,” he offers. “I’ll ask around, if you want.”

I nod. “And about their salaries, too. They must get paid.”

Fuck, how am I supposed to pay people?

Loch smirks. “Don’t sweat on that account. The high court’s coffers are bulging with treasure, and it is understood that each ruler pays a tithe amounting to a tenth of their profits to you every summer.”

Great. I tax people. No wonder they hate me.

“But how do I arrange all that? The tithes, paying servants—hell, hiring servants.”

I will myself to appear calm, when the weight of all my responsibilities threatens to topple me. I’m starting to think about everything I have to handle, and wondering how a single person is supposed to do that. Until yesterday my major concern was avoiding being assassinated on sight. Now, I’m not sure I’d choose accounting over a goblet of poison.

He puts his hand on my shoulder. “Breathe.”

Your heartbeat is racing. Stop playing the prey, I hear straight into my mind.

I frown. No one’s invaded my thoughts since I was brought back with Loch’s dragon stone in place of a heart. I didn’t think they could.

“How did you do that? Can you?—”

He understands me without my spelling out the full question. “I can send out whatever thought I like. Reading yours is another matter. You’re still scattered. Not shielded, as such, but your thoughts feel like a broken mirror with a thousand facets. Attempting to muddle through it is honestly a headache. You’re safe on that front.”

And exactly no other way.

“Can I do that? Send my thoughts to someone.”

Loch inclines his head. “Magic isn’t so very difficult for the folk. You have to will a thing, and if your thoughts are clear, focused, and it’s within your power, it’ll happen.”

“Just like that, huh?” I stare at him intently, and think as hard as I can. No one seems to want to kill me today.

The bright queen and the duchess of wings are gone. That helps.

He grins. “And it’s always easier with a touch. With practice, it should be—” Loch interrupts himself, his eyes widening, staring toward one of the entrances of the hall.

A golden couple enters, somehow different from everyone else here. I can’t put my finger on it at first.

The woman, warm-skinned, with hair a deep cherry pink, is dressed in dark, soft reinforced leather, with a harness over the top. She uses it like a holster, though instead of a gun, it holds several knives. She’s the picture of a warrior. By contrast, the man at her side is in a human suit, clearly well cut, custom made, but so very human. If it weren’t for his ethereal beauty and those pointed ears, I’d assume he was a mortal.

I assumed they both were for over a year.

It’s the Cissa I know, and yet…it isn’t. This one has sharp teeth behind her smiles. Eochan, however, is equal to himself.

Now I understand what they meant when they said Cissa married someone from a different class. In their club, Night Hall, they seemed like equals, both in their element. Their staff responded to both of them the same way. If anything, looked like Cissa just drank and enjoyed herself, chatting with regulars, while Eochan appeared like he was the one who took charge.

Now, there’s no such illusion. One week in this world and I can see, clear as day, that the power is in the hands of the small, dainty girl, by the stares, the bows, and the energy coming out of her. I can feel it.

Eochan, much taller, starts to walk a little slower so she’s first, but I watch her pause and offer him her hand, though it causes plenty of chatter.

When they reach the dais, I stand from the throne, though I can tell from the way Loch’s jaw tightens that I’m not supposed to.

Cissa doesn’t curtsy; like a man, she bows, and Eochan almost folds himself in two.

I smile. “My friends. I’d hoped you'd join us soon."

"My queen." Her lips curl up in delight. "Your note was quite the surprise. We came as soon as we could portal. Sorry to have missed your coronation."

"I only almost died once," I retort with a shrug, causing several chuckles. "I take it you've considered my offer to return to your responsibilities in the winter court?"

I decide to get straight to business, because the last thing I need is for people to think I favor another unseelie court. There are only so many cocks a woman can take to make a point.

"We have, Your Majesty," she replies, though she includes Eochan. "We're highly grateful, but if the winter court doesn't want to be ruled by us, we'd rather not attempt to force it again. We lost enough the first time around."

I heard about it. Her marriage toEochan enraged her court for some reason; they were attacked relentlessly, and eventually left after the death of their child.

"The winter court cannot remain leaderless," I state.

Which ones are the winter folk again? I ask Loch wordlessly, thinking as hard as I can.

The grumpy bunch glaring from the wall on your right. Silver and blue.

I recognize the colors Junis used to wear with aplomb. The combination should have been aesthetically pleasing, but I shiver in disgust.

"We have a number of lords from your domain here, yes? What do you say, ladies and gentlemen? Would you rather be ruled by Cissavna, or absorbed under the flag of the court of night?"

That circle is just as easily spotted, after I notice their leader. The night king wears black and gold, and all those gathered around him seem to be adorned in the darkest shade they can find. He's been mostly silent on all matters, and Loch told me the folk of nightdon't concern themselves with the affairs of the other courts more than necessary. They don't make war, though they defend themselves ruthlessly; they don't weigh in, though they rarely suffer anyone shoving their noses in their business.We should get along fine.

The winter bunch are chatting animatedly amongst themselves.

As they do, the night king speaks. I think his name is Loken, if I remember it well. "I suppose I could take winter if I must."

"Now wait a minute!" one of the winter lords snaps. "We have many lords, from worthy lines, who can rule. There's no reason to suffer either an invasion from night, or this girl and all her tantrums."

I blink. "And by ‘her tantrums,’ I suppose you refer to her choice of partner?"

He stands tall. "Cissavna was given the throne upon her mother's death with the understanding that she would wed one of us. A half-mortal puck from the seelie court of gold? That's unacceptable."

Don't let them talk bloodlines. Ask about her actions.

"DidCissavna make any decision regarding the ruling of the court of winter that ought to be brought to my attention?" I probe.

No one dares reply, just a few frustrated grunts under their breath.

"Ah."I turn, facing the throne, and lower the sleeve of my dress on the right side. "See this spot, right here? That's where I was shot with an iron arrow. Thanks for that, by the by,Urthel."

I recall the name, although I don't know who it belongs to yet. Several people wince. I'll have to ask Loch later.

I pivot back to the crowd. "I heal fast, so the wound's closed up by now, of course, but take an iron bolt to the shoulder. You likely won't forget it soon. That's what happened to me, not because of my actions, but because of my bloodline. I can't help that, just like any puck from the seelie court of gold. If anyone brings a matter of lineage to this court, rather than actual actions, competence, incompetence, or crimes, not only will I reject the arguments, I'll also punish you for wasting my time." They're quick to look down, no doubt recalling the way I dealt with Valmort. But I'm no tyrant, and I can't afford anymore enemies."Consider this a warning. Now, is there any reason why Cissavna shouldn't return to the winter court?"

They exchange mutters, sighs, likely a fair few insults, their voices completely silent to my ear; they must have cast the privacy spell Loch did yesterday.

At long last, the same lord steps forward."None, my queen."

"Marvelous. I will hear your pledge to your lady now."