Page 14

I CONSULTED MY father about the four traitors who’d been caught, and I broke down once briefly during the conversation, pleading for an answer, any alternate solution. He’d remained quiet, his hand on my shoulder, until I composed myself.

Ultimately, we decided the sentences needed to be carried out soon. He said he could have things arranged by the following evening. The four traitors would be executed by a poison that put the victim to sleep before killing. It was the most humane method we could come up with.

That night in my new quarters, I paced, utterly heartsick. I tried to find solace in the moonlight-bathed courtyard, listening to the trickle of water over the rocks of the waterfall, but it didn’t soothe me.

I knew Oliver and Maxen would disagree with me, but I had to offer the traitors something other than death. I had to do it because I didn’t want my first major act as Queen to be that of killing my own people. Not without some shred of mercy in it. In thinking about the hidden ones who’d willingly left Faerie, cutting themselves off from their homeland for decades, I realized there was a grave enough punishment that I could offer, one that would spare the traitors’ lives but still take nearly everything from them. And I planned to give them the choice.

At two in the morning, I put on my coronation dress, still dirty from the ordeal of the day but the most regal thing I owned, and threw the heavy jeweled robe over it. I stepped out of my quarters to find a couple of surprised guards posted there.

“I’m going to the fortress jail,” I said.

“I’ll escort you,” one of them said, a burly woman with cropped hair.

She went ahead, leading me through the quiet corridors down to the basement.

I went into the reception area of the fortress jail and found Nanette, an older woman with reading glasses on a thin chain around her neck, on duty.

“Nanette, how are you?” I asked.

She rose and curtsied. “Can’t complain, Your Majesty.”

She’d always been a woman of few words.

“I need to speak to the four prisoners awaiting execution,” I said. “Can you safely gather them all together?”

“Let me get a deputy to help me,” she said. She sat down, put on her glasses, and tapped on the tablet wired into a wall. “Patrick will be here in just a few moments, Your Majesty.”

I nodded and went to sit in one of the hard plastic chairs. I imagined she’d had to rouse Patrick from sleep. To his credit, he arrived in less than ten minutes, panting lightly and with his hair a little messed, but dressed in uniform.

The two of them went into the corridor beyond the desk that led to the cells. I heard the clangs of heavy doors opening and closing.

Nanette and Patrick returned.

“Your Majesty,” she said. “We’ve collected the prisoners in the first cell. We left the door open.”

I rose and nodded. My guard followed me back.

“I’ll speak to them alone,” I said.

I went into the cell and pulled the door closed behind me.

Four Carraig slumped on the narrow bed, their hands restrained behind their backs. Two men and two women. One of the women looked several years younger than me, twenty-one or twenty-two, I guessed.

I stood before them with my chin raised, regarding each of them in turn.

“You’ve been informed that you’ll be executed for the crime of attempting to murder your monarch?” I asked.

One of the men scowled. The other three prisoners nodded, and the young woman’s face crumpled for a second as she fought to keep her composure.

“The executions will take place about eighteen hours from now. Death by poison.”

I allowed several seconds of silence to pass. The young woman was crying, silent tears streaming down her face. I focused on my own breaths and maintaining a stony expression. Inside, I wanted to cry with her.

“I was stupid, Your Majesty,” the sobbing young woman said, her breath hitching. “So stupid. I know it’s too late, but I want you to know that I see the error of my choices. I listened to people I shouldn’t have. I didn’t think for myself. And now I know I must face my punishment.”

By the time she finished speaking, she’d managed to control her voice. Her dark brown eyes met mine, and I could see she was sincere.

“And the rest of you?” I asked.

“I have a son, Your Majesty,” said one of the men, the one who hadn’t scowled. He had pale blue eyes and orange-blonde hair. He pressed his trembling lips together for a moment. “I thought I was being principled, but all I’ve done is make my boy an orphan.”

He turned his head to the side, and a tear leaked down his cheek. I held my breath, willing my eyes to stay dry.

The other woman was perhaps a bit older than Oliver, muscled and jowly. She looked like she’d be a formidable foe in a swordfight.

“I live with my choice, Your Majesty,” she said. Her voice was raspy and deep for a woman. “I regret it now, but it was mine to make, and I have to live with it.”

I shifted my attention to the other man. He squinted up at me with dark eyes and then spat on the floor. Okay, then.

“I’ve come to offer you something,” I said. “But it’s not without a grave price.”

It was quiet enough to hear water dripping somewhere.

“If you have sincere regret for attacking me, I will allow you to live. But you will be stripped of your magic and sent across the hedge to the Earthly realm, and you will never be able to return to Faerie.”

“My regret couldn’t be more deep or sincere,” the young woman said.

The man with the son looked up at me with watery eyes. “I’ve never regretted anything more, Your Highness.”

“I already said I regret my actions,” the thick lady said.

The scowling man sneered. “I regret nothing, except that I failed to end your traitorous life. Marisol Lothlorien was the greatest New Garg to ever breathe the fair air of Faerie, and you murdered her, you worthless whore of a girl.”

I blinked but didn’t otherwise react.

“Three of you will be expelled from Faerie by this time tomorrow night,” I said. I faced the angry man. “And you’ve clearly decided you will die for your crime.”

I turned, opened the door, and exited the cell. With my guard trailing me, I left the jail and walked woodenly back to my quarters. Cold sweat dampened my underarms, and my legs felt unsteady. As soon as I was alone inside my apartment, I sagged against the wall.

I didn’t feel disappointed or relieved. I just felt hollow. And I hoped with every shred of my being that Maxen was right, that this would be the lowest point of my reign.

I’d hoped the morning would bring some peace, but it didn’t. I still had to face one execution and expel three Carraig from Faerie.

I went about making arrangements for the three prisoners who would be set free in the Earthly realm. It required a consultation with Maxen about the fortress coffers, as I had to hire a Druid monk on short notice to come and perform the rites that would cut the prisoners off from their magic, and it wasn’t cheap.

I hadn’t given much thought to the financial aspect of running a kingdom up to that point. In Faerie, money didn’t hold the power it did in the Earthly realm. Barter was a more common method of exchange, and each kingdom carved out niches of goods for trade and struck deals with other realms for supplies they lacked.

The Stone Order was so small in territory, we had to import much of our food and nearly all of our supplies. Besides the fortress itself, our only other land holdings were a handful of mines in very secret locations. Having a great affinity for all types of stone, from lowly gravel to priceless precious gems, it was fitting that the Carraig realm fed its treasury by mining such materials.

The fortress had been riding on the existing agreements Marisol had put in place. But I would need someone to step in to manage that aspect of the kingdom, and soon. I had no clear sense of the extent of our dependence on any Unseelie realms for our supplies, but we would need to have backup plans in place if those agreements crumbled.

The Druid arrived late in the afternoon. I asked Amalie and Oliver to appoint people to oversee the process, as I had other things to attend to. I also had no desire to witness it firsthand. Returning to my office, I took up the list of still-vacant positions in my court. Trying to focus on that task instead of the impending execution, I called the page at the reception desk and asked her to track down Shane, the young commander in the battle ranks.

About twenty minutes later, he arrived. Only a couple of years out of the academy, he’d quickly established himself as an excellent teacher as well as a rising star in the military. We used to be on good terms, but since I’d returned as Queen, he’d been openly wary of me.

He bowed and sat in the chair across from me. I studied him for a moment. His quick, dark eyes had an exotic shape to them. He was a bit on the slim side for a Carraig, but he was all wiry muscle. Dark, straight hair just brushed the tops of his ears, his last military cut grown out enough to almost look shaggy. Shane was a handsome man, skilled, ambitious, and passionate about what he did. I could see why Emmaline crushed so hard on him. Plus, there was the titillating aspect of the teacher-student relationship. From the way she’d spoken of him recently, I got the sense that something might have developed between them. They were only three or four years apart.

I decided not to beat around the hedge. “How many officers are there who outrank you?” I asked.

“Seven, Your Highness,” he said, clearly hesitant to speak of my detractors.

“And if you don’t count Raleigh and his followers?”

“Two. Me and Kristen.”

Kristen had graduated the same year as Shane.

“You outrank her, correct?” I asked.

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

I placed my forearms on the desk and leaned forward. “I have a problem. I can’t keep men like Raleigh and his followers in high-ranking posts in my military.”

He tilted his head in acknowledgment.

“I’d like to offer you the position of Battle Master and Military Commander.” He opened his mouth, but I held up a finger to stop him. “But I know you’re not a hundred percent behind me. I’d like to talk about why.”

His jaw worked for a second. “Don’t get me wrong, Petr—Your Majesty. As a soldier, I admire you immensely. You’re one of the fiercest fighters I know. You could kick my ass up and down the practice field.” He blinked, obviously uncertain about speaking so casually.

“It’s fine,” I said. “Please, continue.”

“I just don’t understand why you were chosen for the crown. You should be leading the military. Not sitting on the throne.”

I peered at him from under partly lowered lids. “I don’t doubt you believe that, but it seems as if there’s something else. Some other reason you don’t trust me.”

He shifted on his seat, and one knee began a quick bouncing rhythm. He looked at the floor.

“Just say it, Shane,” I said quietly.

He looked up, his dark eyes piercing. “You left.”

My brows lifted. “I left?”

“You graduated from the academy, and you ran out of here as fast as you could. That never sat right with me. While all of us were here fighting to carve out a spot for the New Gargs, you were in the Earthly realm, doing . . . whatever you were doing.”

I leaned back. “Well, everything you say is accurate. I couldn’t wait to get the hell out. I wanted freedom. I wanted to get away from my father. I was pretty damn immature at eighteen. Not that I’m trying to make excuses.”

He nodded, but his mouth still formed a tight line. I waited.

“Don’t you think others would have preferred to go, too?” he asked. His gaze lifted and roved around. “This place can be fricking stifling. All of us crammed into this building, living under a monarch obsessed with her own vision.”

My eyes sharpened on him. “So you’re not angry at me for killing her?”

He shook his head. “I understand you had to do it. She tried to have you and your sister murdered. I get that you had no choice, and I would’ve done the same.”

“You don’t think I deserve the throne because I abandoned the Order is what it comes down to.”

He lifted a shoulder and let it drop. “Yes, I question your loyalty. That’s part of it. The other part is that you just seem . . . an odd choice, considering there are other options.”

I nearly agreed with him, but Oberon’s advice came back to me, and I straightened and squared my shoulders. I shouldn’t be sitting there offering apologies. It wasn’t as if I’d done nothing to serve the Order of late. And meekly eating shit in front of everyone who disapproved of me wasn’t going to get me anywhere.

“Were you at the Battle of Champions?” I asked.

His eyes widened slightly at the abrupt change of topic. “Yes, Your Highness. Every New Garg was there.”

“You remember how I ended up there?”

“You saved Nicole from the Duergar. It set off a shitstorm of hostility between us and them.”

“Yes. And then I had to pay for my actions, for saving my sister, by entering a battle to the death. I won. And I secured a temporary peace for the Order, getting Periclase off our backs for a brief time. Remember that?”

He nodded. I casually reached for the scabbard holding Aurora that I’d placed on the floor, tipped against the desk beside me. Placing the sheath on the desk, I slowly drew the legendary blade. It wasn’t to threaten. I laid the sword parallel to the scabbard.

“I also went into the stronghold of the Tuatha De Danann with Jasper Glasgow,” I said, looking down at the swirling rosy colors of the metal. “The gods had taken Oberon there and had him shackled in sky iron. Jasper and I entered the Giants’ Causeway and faced the gods to take our High King back.”

I looked up at Shane. His eyes were riveted on Aurora. Any swordsman would be transfixed by the Champion’s blade. I waited until his gaze met mine.

“I lost Mort under that mountain,” I continued. “Oberon called Aurora to my hand. The trick only worked because I’m the Champion of the Summer Court, which ties me to this blade in ways I don’t fully know. Jasper and I escaped with Oberon because I wielded Aurora. Then we had to outrace the Dullahan to get away.”

Shane’s eyes popped wide.

“None of this qualifies me to be the Carraig queen,” I said. “But don’t you think I’ve done a few things lately to show my love for my people?”

He looked back down at Aurora and swallowed. After a moment, he inhaled and met my gaze again.

“You’re right, Your Majesty,” he said. “I was in error for judging you the way I did. I have no doubts of your loyalty to the Carraig, of your commitment to us.”

I gave him one crisp nod. “Good. As to the oddity of me as Queen, there’s not much I can do about that. Maxen was the obvious choice. But Oberon chose me. So here we are.”

“Yes, here we are,” he said quietly. A few seconds of silence past. “If the offer still stands, I would be honored to accept the position of Battle Master and Military Commander in your court, Queen Petra.”

I allowed myself a small smile. “I’m very glad to hear that. It’s yours.”

I stood and reached out, offering my hand, and he grasped it. Then he bowed, bending low from the waist. I waved him off, and he turned to go.

“Oh, Shane?” I said.

He stopped and turned, his hand on the doorknob.

“Don’t toy with Emmaline.”

His lips parted, and he blinked a couple of times. “I . . . wouldn’t do that.” Crimson splotches began blooming on his cheeks.

I arched a brow at him. “Good.”

He shut the door behind him, and I collapsed in my chair, tipped my head back, and groaned at the ceiling. Why did everything have to be so damn intense?

I blew out a long breath and then pushed forward and reached for my tablet. Shane felt like a victory, an important one. But the day wasn’t even close to over. There were still many positions to fill, and an execution to oversee that evening.