Page 10 of Silver and Lead (October Daye #19)
She took a step forward, wooden chains rattling.
“Insolent child, how dare you place words upon my royal tongue?” she demanded.
Her voice lacked the rolling acoustics of Arden’s, but had a certain sonorous menace to it, like thunder rumbling in distant hills.
That was the Banshee in her coming to the fore.
Not for the first time, I wondered what could have led a Siren and a Banshee to lie down together.
Faerie can make for some strange bedfellows, but we normally have limits.
“You have no royal tongue for us to place words upon,” snapped Arden. “Hold your silence rather than lie; if you lie, this will not go well for you.”
“It was never going to go well for me,” said the false Queen, voice shaking slightly.
“You’ve already decided that. I had nothing to do with the death of your father, and he had no heirs declared or claimed.
When my Lady of the Roses offered me everything I could ever have wanted in exchange for a few meaningless trinkets, I accepted, and she set the crown upon my brow, she settled the mantle over my shoulders.
I am as royal as you are, for my title was granted to me by one among the First. Yours comes from what?
The rutting of your royal father and your unwed mother? Which of us has the greater claim?”
“That would be the Windermeres,” said a new voice, sounding almost bored. The false Queen whirled around so fast that she nearly toppled to the side. Behind her, the crowd that had been summoned to observe parted, revealing the Luidaeg.
She still looked like a human teenager, but she had changed her clothing rather dramatically.
Her pigtails were tied off with strips of torn tartan, and she was dressed in a long linen tunic, belted at the waist, with a plaid sash in a tartan I’d never seen before draped over one shoulder and tied at the opposite hip.
Her feet were bare, her sleeves long and loose and unornamented.
She was watching the false Queen the way I’d seen Tybalt watch a pigeon when he was having a particularly lazy evening, her eyes half-lidded and filled with malicious curiosity.
The false Queen took a step backward, away from her. Not a bad idea when suddenly confronted with the sea witch.
The Luidaeg smiled, showing the full assortment of her teeth, and took a step forward.
“When Denley and Nola Windermere came to the Mists, I was here to greet them. They were Scottish. They knew me when they saw me, and they bowed and made the proper obeisances. Nola brought me soda bread and scones. Denley asked me to tell him where he was forbidden to place his knowe. They were good neighbors. Polite. And so I gladly set a kingdom upon them. The first crown in the Mists passed from my hands to the brow of Denley Windermere, and from him to his son. The Windermeres are the only bloodline with claim over the throne in the Mists, because I gave them that claim, and I haven’t seen fit to take it back yet. ”
“You didn’t object to my coronation!” wailed the false Queen.
“No, I didn’t,” agreed the Luidaeg. “My sister desired it, and she was a daughter of Titania. It’s often better to let them get their own way, at least in the short term.
Arden was too young, Nolan younger still, and I had all faith that one of them would come to find me when they were ready to reclaim their family’s throne.
Silence is not endorsement. Sometimes it’s just silence. ”
My gut twisted, and I scowled at the Luidaeg.
She’s been a friend for most of the time I’ve known her, but she has a tendency to think in almost geological terms. All the damage the false Queen had done had been in service of letting Evening get her own way.
People died because of the false Queen’s behavior!
I nearly died! Tybalt did die—he just got better, a trick royal Cait Sidhe can occasionally pull off. Doesn’t mean I liked it.
“The throne is mine ,” said the false Queen.
“No,” said the Luidaeg. “The throne was always Arden’s. You just borrowed it for a little while.”
“Let the court record show that the Windermere line was also granted the throne by one among the First, and that as the Luidaeg is here with us tonight, her claim shall be deemed superior,” said Arden, sounding faintly choked.
“Should the Lady of Roses wish to appear before us, we would be willing to reopen this discussion.”
“Be careful what you wish for,” said the Luidaeg.
Arden paled, but didn’t reply.
“Does the accused wish to say anything in her defense?” she asked, looking at the false Queen.
“Only that I acted to protect the Mists from hostile influences; I served as a Queen, even if you now deem me illegitimate, and I make no apologies for the things I did to preserve our way of life.” The false Queen didn’t waver as she addressed Arden, only tipped her chin defiantly upward and looked at her through thick white lashes, looking every inch the imperious monarch scolding a recalcitrant child.
Arden inhaled audibly through her nose, then exhaled again and turned to face the court. “If you wish to speak against the false Queen, please approach the dais.”