Page 37

37

STEEL AND WATER

Darina

"I can't believe you did that," Cissa gushes again.

"Loch did coach me on what to say and do," I admit with an awkward wince. "This world is complicated."

"You're doing great," she assures me.

We're dining in what now passes for privacy, which means I only have a dozen guests in my apartments, while there's a buffet offered in one of the many halls. I'm told invitations to my table are worth more than my weight in gold, but I only chose people unlikely to poison, stab, or shoot me tonight. Which is a change.

There are a fair number of strangers, so it's still a formal affair. When I tried to set my crown down, Relva tsked and put it right back on my head, securing it with pins for good measure.

It's heavier than I would have thought. That’s not a metaphor about the weight of power; that thing seems all dainty, but the metal—white gold, I think—and stones and bones feels like a sack of potatoes pushed against my skull.

“I hope I won’t have to wear that stupid crown all the time,” I whisper to Loch, seated at my right.

The table is rectangular; again, Ryther is at the other end, just like he was at the council meeting, and Valdred's seated next to Cissa, her husband by his side.

We've barely exchanged a word since yesterday, but we do make a point of smiling at each other, giving the appearance of delighting in each other's company. In truth, it's just awkward, like waking up after a one-night stand in a stranger's room. No, worse than a stranger: a friend you don't quite see that way, knowing that as pleasant as it might have been, you regret it.

Rachel's by Loch's side, followed by Caenan. Overall, I think we have a good mix of seelie and unseelie. I see court attire in almost every color.

"No one knows you well. They haven't seen you up close yet. Wear it for a few days, until everyone knows exactly who the high queen is. In time, you’ll be able to save it for official matters."

I pout, making some of the strangers close by smile or laugh indulgently. "Fine."

A short, stout man clears his throat. "Perhaps the queen might like to have another crown, less formal, for everyday wear?"

"The queen certainly would," I immediately tell him, shooting Loch a glance. "If her advisors find it appropriate."

"It's not the worst idea," Loch concurs. "Are you offering your servicesTenith?" To me, he says, "The court of stone is home to a company of dwarves so reknowned for their skills in jewels they've tempted gods."

The lord preens. "We know our stones, from the most precious to the simplest, alike. If the queen wishes?—"

"I beg your pardon, I think you'll find we are far better suited for such a piece," a slender woman toward the center of the table ripostes. "Why, the very crown the queen wears right now was forged in blood, and if the new queen would like an alternative piece, blood will provide it."

There's a not-so-discreet cough now, from a man covered in glitter from head to toe. "Don't discount the mortal courts. We are called silver and gold for a reason, my queen. Working metal is our first trade."

"We can all agree that making the queen's next jewels is an honor many would love to be deemed worthy to be chosen for," Loch says. "So I say, let's not choose at all. All the courts can have a chance to present their pieces, and the queen will choose her favorite, offering a boon to its maker. What do you think?"

I say, I'm grateful the queen has a brother who knows what she's supposed to do.

Loch's eyes narrow as he glances at me. There are several strange looks thrown my way. Before I can ask about it, the doors of the dining halls open, and the steward announces the lord of the hunt.

The return of Calreth is good enough news, but upon spotting the girl at his side, I have a hard time stopping myself from jumping up or squealing.

Forcing myself to remain seated and give no outward show of my excitement is torture. Rain is here.

She looks around with wide eyes, more obviously impressed than Rachel.

When she spots me, my best friend doesn't exercise the same restraint I've shown. She doesn't know this world yet, nor its rules.

When you like something? Hide it.

She runs toward me, arms extended.

Before she can tackle me in a hug, she's stopped by two sets of swords, raised and pointed toward her—Caenan's and, to my great surprise, Relva's.

I clear my throat. "It's fine. I know her."

Caenan apologizes and sheathes his sword.

Relva doesn't. "She stinks of iron. And magic."

"Duh. I'm a witch, princess," Rain counters with an eye roll.Her princess is clearly sarcastic, butaccurateall the same. "And if I wanted to hurt you, I would, pointy thing aimed at me or not."

My friend's finger touches the tip of the sword, and her black eyes flash red. The next moment, the sword's blade turns to water, pouring between them.

I don't know if Calreth warned her that she ought to show she's not prey right away. In all likelihood, she just used magic because she can here, amongst an array of wild creatures. Back home, witches tend to try to blend in.

"How did you do that?" Loch, of all people, wonders.

She shrugs. "Simple metamorphosis."

Now, with no one to stop her, she does hug me, and I let myself enjoy it for an entire second, before I try my hand at sharing my thoughts with her. I've never tried with a non-fae, not even Rachel.

You've just put a huge target on your back. Keep your distance.

Her eyes widen, and she takes a step back. "Did you just talk to me in my head? That's new. And disturbing. Can you hear my thoughts, too?"

I chuckle. Wasn't that exactly how I reacted the first time Ryther entered my mind?"Not yet. I'm new at this," I tell her.

"You don't look new. I mean…the crown, the dress? You look…" There's something a little sad in her eyes. "Right at home."

My heart swells with longing for simpler days, when home was her apartment rather than this castle, with hundreds, if not thousands of great halls and dangerous strangers.

"Anyway, thanks for the advice, but you're my best friend. No crown's going to change that. Anyway, you won't believe where I've been?—"

"Rain," Rachel snaps.

With a horrified gasp, she turns toward the voice. "You! You're here."

"Yes, I am," she replies primly. "And you and I are going to have a little chat."

She stands, makes her way to the witch, whom all the folk seem to stare at with some apprehension, and drags her by the sleeve out of the room, Caenan on their heels.

I shake my head, wondering how much Rachel is going to relish lecturing Rain. And whether Rain will stop herself from hexing her.

During the commotion, Calreth joined his twin at the other side of the table, and they're now exchanging low, pressing whispers.

I can't hear them of course, and I'm dying to know what Calreth's visit uncovered, if anything. To my surprise, Ryther puts a hand on his brother's shoulders, in a comforting gesture.

I want to be a little mouse at their end of the table. I want this dinner over, so I can hear it all, and actually enjoy my friend's arrival rather than fear for her safety. I don't need to ask Loch to realize I shouldn't leave. There are at least six courts to go through, and my absence, abandoning guests to greet a newcomer, would be a terrible idea.

Ruling truly sucks.