Page 16 of Silver and Lead (October Daye #19)
“That she lied, stole, and manipulated her way to the throne, but was careful and clever in so doing.
She did things any among us must view as unconscionable, unforgivable transgressions against hospitality and custom, but she never broke the Law with her own hands.
The only full fae to meet their ends at her order were those who had been convicted of violations of the Law in their own right.
At times she manipulated the evidence against them to achieve those convictions, but that still cannot be considered murder, although it should be.
“In her efforts to mold the kingdom into her image of Faerie, she persecuted and mistreated our changeling citizens, encouraging the puppet King of Silences to do the same. We cannot make clear count of the deaths caused by her allowing goblin fruit to flow freely through our streets. There is no proper restitution, only the hope that we can be better as we move forward with our lives, those of us still fortunate enough to have them.”
Arden stopped there, taking a deep breath.
“I was here in the Mists, hiding from my father’s throne, hiding from what I had lost, while she did these things to my people.
She is my shame and my shadow, and I apologize to each of you, unequivocally, for allowing her to take such deep root in our shared soil. I should have been here. I was not.”
Now there was a sound: a sharp intake of breath from at least half the room. I sneezed again, grateful for the gasping to cover the sound. Tybalt shot me another look, less concerned than confused, as I rubbed my nose.
Sorry, I mouthed. We turned our attention back to Arden.
A queen apologizing to her kingdom was unusual enough that no one had spoken after that initial gasp.
They were all just staring at her, waiting to hear what she was going to say next.
We were drifting into uncharted waters here.
I couldn’t blame them for being wary. Me, I just wished I had some popcorn.
“For her crimes, we have decided the pretender will be elf-shot a third time,” she continued, her mouth pulled downward in a moue of disappointment, like she couldn’t believe the woman had the audacity to keep waking up when we clearly didn’t want her to.
“This time, rather than holding her here, where it’s clear we cannot keep her so subdued, she will be given into the custody of the sea witch, who will transport her to a place her allies cannot reach nor interfere with.
She will sleep a full hundred years, and when she awakens, she will be elf-shot again, to sleep another century away.
At the end of that time, when her offense is not so fresh and bright in memory, we will discuss further discipline, should her surviving victims feel it necessary. ”
“We’re just going to elf-shoot her and put her in storage so we can forget about her” felt anticlimactic, but that was no less than I’d expected.
Pureblooded fae generally think in decades, not days.
For Arden, this was a good punishment. To me, it was a slap on the wrist. No therapy, no time working to change or make up for her behavior, just sleep. So much sleep.
I sneezed again. This time, Arden noticed. She glanced in my direction and frowned. “As her trial and sentencing were the only matters of direct import to be discussed tonight, those of you who have other obligations are free to go. Bring forth the prisoner!”
Nolan rose from his throne, hand sketching a circle in the air.
The smell of sap and blackberries cut through the rest of the magic hanging around us as he stepped through the portal.
He reappeared next to the furiously scowling figure of the false Queen, grabbing her by her arm and pulling her toward the dais.
Then he stopped, a perplexed expression crossing his face.
“Sir Daye?” he called, voice gone tight with the effort to keep it level. “May I request your momentary attendance?”
I blinked, then began to rise, moving with the speed and grace which had become my hallmark since entering the third trimester of my pregnancy—which was to say, absolutely none to speak of.
Tybalt offered his arm and I took it gladly, letting him pull me to my feet.
He folded his hand meaningfully over mine, and I sighed.
“Right,” I said, keeping my hands where they were rather than pulling away. He led me toward Nolan and the false Queen.
The whole room was staring at us now, and the feeling of that many eyes on me was less unsettling than I would have wanted it to be. I never intended to go into a profession where public speaking would be required. Sadly, heroes don’t always get a choice.
“What’s up?” I asked, once we were close enough that I wouldn’t need to raise my voice.
“I know this is an odd request, but can you please sniff the prisoner?”
Right away, I caught what he was asking of me. “I can, but it won’t tell me anything,” I cautioned. “If you’re asking me to check her magic, she hasn’t been casting spells, and there’s so much ambient magic in the air already that just sniffing her isn’t going to do me any good.”
“Obviously we can’t allow her to begin casting spells,” he said, sounding affronted.
“No, we can’t,” I agreed. Turning to Tybalt, I asked, “Can I borrow a claw?”
The false Queen’s eyes widened, and for the first time, she began struggling against Nolan’s grasp. Tybalt removed one hand from my arm, expression grave, and extended his index finger’s claw.
Carefully—normal people don’t heal the way I do—I guided his hand to the false Queen’s arm. “Gentle,” I said.
“Always,” he replied, and drew his claw along the inside of her arm until it broke the skin and a few bright beads of blood came to the surface.
“Sorry for the intrusion,” I said, with brittle chipperness. I lifted her arm to my mouth.
Her blood was sweet and tart and tasted of black clove and panther lilies. I paused mid-swallow, trying to make sense of the flavor. I’d encountered this before, I knew I had, but not—
Not in the false Queen’s halls. As if to reinforce the point, memory blossomed behind my eyes as I saw a woman screaming and running away from an unfamiliar Redcap.
He swung a sword in her direction. One of her most trusted guards was on the ground, blood dripping from a wound that had blackened around the edges, as if he had been badly burned.
She wanted to go back for him. She wanted to save him. She knew she couldn’t, and so she ran.
I dropped her arm and swallowed again, this time trying to get the taste of blood out of my mouth. “This isn’t the pretender Queen,” I said. “This is Dame Eloise Altair. Where is the prisoner?”
A panicky rumble ran through the crowd around us, causing both Nolan and Tybalt to step closer to me, like they were ready to pull me out of harm’s way if necessary.
I didn’t bristle, but returned my attention to the disguised Dame Altair.
If I squinted, I could see the haze of illusion around her like a web of threads spun from salt.
They were thinner than cobwebs or silk, thin as cotton candy made into an enveloping cocoon.
It would be so easy to start snapping them, and the taste of her blood still lingered on the back of my tongue like the memory it had given me…
My strength is in blood, whether it’s mine or someone else’s.
I was strictly forbidden to bleed myself when not strictly necessary—Jin had strong feelings about the use of blood magic during pregnancy, and if I was going to insist on doing it, she wanted me using someone else’s blood whenever possible—but even a few drops were enough to give me the power I needed to do something like reach out and snap a few thin, trailing threads.
If the threads had been literal, breaking a few wouldn’t have been enough to tear apart the whole cocoon.
If the illusion had been woven by someone stronger, or with more experience, it wouldn’t have been that easy to break them.
As it was, the threads broke easily, and when they did, they began to unspool, the entire spell collapsing into a cloying mixture of cinnamon and green cardamom. I sneezed.
The illusion shattered, revealing a furious Dame Altair wearing the false Queen’s rowan muzzle and shackles.
Nolan blanched and hurried to unfasten them, removing the muzzle first. That may have been a mistake, as she immediately began to swear with a degree of creative enthusiasm that would have been impressive as hell, had we not been standing ten feet away from the queen.
“I didn’t take enough blood to get any real answers, but I didn’t pick up on anything that implied guilt,” I said, raising my voice enough to be heard above the swearing.
This came with the convenient advantage of letting the people directly around us hear me, meaning the information would spread quickly through the hall. “I think she was a victim here.”
“Damn right I was a victim,” snapped Dame Altair, glaring at me. “I should have known better when I saw that slimy, conniving asshole on my doorstep, but oh no, everyone says he’s changed, I’m sure everything is going to be just fine.”
Nolan finished removing the manacles from her wrists.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “Who do you mean?”
Dame Altair raised one hand and pointed directly at Simon.
Oak and ash, not this again.