by J L Collins
Instead of there being some long red carpet rolling right up to a throne at the very end, I was surprised to see a more informal sitting arrangement in this throne room. There were many large, tufted pillows scattered throughout the wide room, with groups of Fae lounging together. Some asleep, some softly playing music, and others… well, preoccupied. I cleared my throat, hoping no one could see the blush that was blistering my cheeks.
“Your Majesty, as you’ve requested, I’ve brought along the Inquisitor and his guests.” He turned to us with a barely-contained scowl on his face. “Address our queen with respect.”
If it hadn’t been for the fact that the Queen slowly rose to stand, I wouldn’t have even guessed where she was in the throng of various gatherings among the Fae. Elegantly tall with a stronger jawline than I’d imagined her to have, the queen stared at us with vivid electric-blue eyes that bore no pupils. I’d forgotten for a moment that the royal Fairies were Pixies while the rest of their kingdom were of varying Fairy races, like Elves in the instance of Brennrie and her rude brother.
I did my best attempt at a curtsy, same as Aunt Bedelia, and Uncle Gardner gave the Queen a deep bow, leaning heavily on his cane. “Your Majesty,” he said as he stood back up.
A curious smile appeared on the queen’s face. “Gardner. It’s been so long. You look well, I hope.”
“It has,” he agreed. “And I am not as well as I’d like to be. I’d be in much better spirits if someone hadn’t murdered our Keeper of the Pages four days ago.”
Right to the point as always.
The smile didn’t falter on her face though, and she seemed to hover past the group she’d been sitting with. She was hovering—or floating, at least—her thin and feathery wings resembling buzzing hummingbird wings. If the queen wished, she could’ve zoomed off in the blink of an eye.
“You’ve come here on this account, I believe?” It wasn’t really a question—more of an observation.
Uncle Gardner nodded. “Yes, your Majesty. We have reason to believe that someone in your midst might have carried out the murder of Rourke O’Shea, or at least conceived the plot to do so.”
The room erupted in gasps, some of them followed by frenzied whispers, the rest of the fairies in the room now glaring at us and his accusation. Nicolex’s hand even flexed over his sword, his eyes narrowing as if to warn my uncle. Brennrie didn’t seem as surprised as the rest of them, though she stood off to side with her brother, clearly marking her boundary.
“Ah. Well, that is rather unfortunate, Gardner. Witches who come into my kingdom and so carelessly toss around words against one of my people are not the kind of guests I intend on keeping. However,” she said slowly and loudly, drowning out the boos and hisses from the crowd of Fairies of listening intently to her, “I will give you a chance to speak your piece.”
Something else hid behind her words, but I wasn’t sure of what it was just yet.
Uncle Gardner cleared his throat, placing his hands and cane behind his back and taking a few steps forward. “A fairy-made sword was found at the Athenaeum shortly after the murder. I don’t want to come off as out-of-line your Majesty, but this is a direct link to your kingdom—your own personal guard perhaps. We would like to question them in regards to this case.”
Queen Mabily pursed her lips. “And this sword. I expect that you will at the very least, bring it to me so that I may take a look at it? Even though I may be the reigning queen, I do know of our weaponry. I’m well-versed in it, in fact. We shall start there, with you bringing forth your so-called evidence.”
“We will do no such thing. Evidence collected in any MARC investigation stays in place at our headquarters, not to be tampered with. I couldn’t bring it here even if I wanted to.”
Wincing at his harsh tone, I glanced at Aunt Bee. She was busying herself with the frayed edge of her sleeve, pretending not to hear a word Uncle Gardner was saying.
Just as irritated with her for not speaking up to clarify, I sighed, knowing I didn’t have the same choice. I took a small step forward until I was standing right beside my uncle. “Forgive me, your Majesty. I think what the Inquisitor is trying to say is that this evidence is impertinent to our case, and even still, we are not sure of its relation to the murder. The murder,” I swallowed against the sudden dryness in my throat, “wasn’t seemingly committed with the sword.”
I ignored the angry expression on Uncle Gardner’s in my peripheral vision and instead, kept my eyes on the queen, not wanting to look away and show even a moment of hesitation. If there was one thing I learned as a Shadow Hand, it was to never lay all of your cards out on the table when it came to the Royal Court.
She regarded me with a leveled look, her thin arms folding over her chest. “I see. You bring up this matter to me, yet it may not actually have anything to do with us?”
Uncle Gardner cut me off before I could respond, “—it is still important that we follow every trail!”
She held her hand up. “I no longer wish to be part of this conversation with you, Inquisitor,” she said, pausing before pointing to me. “You, however, I would like a private audience with.”
All eyes fell on me across the room, and I blinked. Oh, boy. Me and my big mouth.
11
Trial in the Tower
It took Aunt Bedelia nudging me to realize I hadn’t yet moved. “Go on, Gwennie-Bee,” she whispered softly enough so that only I could make out her words.
I wasn’t expecting any kind of direct communication with the Queen—I figured that would be Uncle Gardner’s territory. And judging by the look on his face, neither had he.
“As ruler of Arcadia, I do have little time for matters outside of my kingdom,” the Queen said, raising a brow in my direction. “If you’d like to make your case for involving our kind in this so-called murder investigation, I suggest you make haste, Miss Brady.”
At the sound of my name, I snapped to and pushed back the invading thoughts of how in the world she knew it, away from the forefront of my mind. “Of course, your Majesty,” I said, giving another small curtsy.
My feet took me forward even though they felt heavy as if I were trudging through tar, and I took one last look at my family before following the queen and a handful of her personal guards down a haphazard path between the dozens of large cushions and their inhabitants.
Behind us, the rest of the room seemed to come back to life, their loud voices carrying throughout. Keeping my head in the game, I bit back the numerous questions I had for the Queen. I needed to approach my words very carefully with her.
The next few halls blurred past as I focused forward. We passed by several parlor rooms, one room with the hugest grand piano I’d ever seen, a few Fairies here and there who quickly ducked into nearby rooms as our group marched on. I was beginning to wonder how long we’d been walking when we made a sudden detour up into a spiraling set of polished stone stairs, where two of the four guards remained standing at the bottom of the steps as a sign for anyone else to stay out. Several stained-glass windows greeted us as we wound up one of the castle’s turrets. The main theme of the beautiful and colorful glass pieces seemed to be nature, but a couple of them had a darker feel. My chest tightened as I tried to immediately forget the depiction of several different Fairy Knights holding the severed heads of many kinds of supernatural creatures: a troll head, an unmistakable Gorgon head with one large eye open, the head of a werewolf in wolf form, a pale humanoid creature with great fangs that must have been an exaggerated vampire, a banshee with long hair and a contorted look on her face where she’d been giving her death shriek. The worst of all was the head at the end, where below it, lie a broken wand.
It was well-known that the Fae wore their arrogance with pride at times, gloating about how they once ruled the entire land of Danann before the Witches grew in power and numbers. But this disgusting piece spoke volumes, no matter how long it’d been since it was first put into place.
No one was paying attention to me than
kfully, as I frowned walking past it.
The Queen was the first to reach the only door at the very top of the tower, and looked down to me steps below, waiting. Doing my best to skirt around the remaining two guards, I nearly stumbled after her.
She led us into what I could only describe as her bedroom, yet there wasn’t a bed in sight. Instead, there were chaise lounges in one corner, with curious large holes missing from the backs. It took me a moment to realize it was probably to accommodate some of the Fairy’s wings, similarly to the beautiful gowns hanging up on ivory-colored mannequins throughout the room. In between a few of them stood a pedestal with an actual cloud floating above the top of it. A glittering tiara covered in jewels sat on the cloud, more shimmering air surrounding it, obviously wrapped within protection magic.
There was a formal-looking table with several high-backed chairs off to one side. If I had to hazard a guess, this was where the Queen and her advisors probably conducted Arcadia’s business. I wondered if she would have me sit there until she turned her back on the space, watching me with interest as I took in my surroundings.
In another corner was a large collection of books hovering above wooden shelves along the curving wall. The air around these shelves shimmered as well, making me wonder what kind of books the famous Queen Mabily was interested in. The spines were wordless, and there were a few books spread open across a vast mahogany desk that looked like a tree had taken roots right there in the tower. Behind the desk was another high-backed chair, though this one was more intricately designed. Vines and other flora were carved into a single large piece of a black wood I couldn’t place, set along the edges of the cushioned seat. Royal blue velvet covered the top and bottom cushions and reminded me of what I imagined the actual throne to look like. The Queen used this room for more formal matters for sure.
“Please take a seat, Miss Brady,” she finally spoke up, her voice silky as she pointed to the small chair in front of the tree desk.
I did as she asked, silently crossing my legs while she sat down in the throne, her electric-blue eyes on me. I decided to wait and let her start the talking. That was how royal etiquette worked, right?
She adjusted her posture to fold in her wings just as elegantly as she hovered with them over the floor. That was one thing I’d always been jealous of when it came to the Fae. They were extremely graceful. I was like a lumbering troll compared to them with my heavy boots.
She folded her hands down in front of her, a polite smile appearing on her face. “You have a patience with others that your uncle does not.”
I wasn’t sure whether I should thank her or not, so I simply nodded. “He can be a bit . . . off-putting when he is working a case.”
“Indeed.” Her smile didn’t budge.
Okay, so apparently, she wanted me to do the talking after all. I cleared my throat. “Your Majesty, I understand wanting to protect the citizens of Arcadia. Please believe me when I say that it is not the MARC’s intention to offend you or your hospitality. We’re only doing our duty, trying to get to the bottom of a very prominent figurehead’s death. Rourke . . . our Keeper of the Pages rather, had a very important job within the Athenaeum. We fear that his death may not have been personal, but instead, was seen as vital to accomplish something else.” I wasn’t sure I should say much more. The Queen could do the talking now if she wanted me to continue.
She studied my face for a moment, tilting her head to one side. “We. You keep saying ‘we’ as if you’re included. You are no longer part of the Shadow Hand organization. Am I correct in this?”
I blinked, blindsided by the statement. I hadn’t expected the conversation to veer in this direction. Yet somehow, I knew she had every intention of trying to provoke me anyway. “Well no, I’m not. But I’ve been asked to help with it.”
Nodding, she leaned forward ever so slightly. “And this is a personal loss to you, the loss of this Keeper?”
“Yes.” What was she getting at?
“The Keeper’s role and duty is mainly to your land—the land of the Witches. However, your library is full of many Fairy texts as well. Not to mention, historical artifacts that have been generously distributed through time by my ancestors. I myself, have donated such things to the Athenaeum. I do not wish to see these belongings stolen or defiled in any way.” She settled back against the throne, her eyes steadily on me. “I believe An Leabhar na Ciallmhar is now missing, correct?”
I sat there stunned. Had someone sent this information ahead before we even arrived? Surely Uncle Gardner would’ve waited to discuss all this in person?
“Yes. It was found missing when the MARC began conducting the investigation. A separate mission has been ordered to find the spell book. As I’m sure you know, having it fall into the wrong hands would be unfortunate for all of us.”
“This is true. And I do hope the MARC is able to locate it. I may send some of my own elders and advisors, as well as our top soldiers into Spell Haven to help with the search efforts. As you’ve said, this is a larger issue.”
I wasn’t sure whether to feel grateful to her, or to be irritated. “I’m sure my uncle and the rest of the heads at the MARC would appreciate any help you’re willing to lend, your Majesty. We would also appreciate the help with answering questions about this particular investigation into Rourke’s death.”
Her brilliantly blue eyes narrowed. Clearly, she thought differently. “As I’ve said Miss Brady, I do not believe anyone from my kingdom need be implicated in your Keeper’s death. And for that matter, has your investigation actually proven that his death was at the hands of another? That it wasn’t something that could be considered an accident?”
It was growing incredibly difficult to keep the frustration off my face. As if we were dumb enough not to know the difference…
“We’re sure of it. His throat was crushed from being strangled. There were marks on his neck that back this up. And considering that the spell book was stolen, there was a definite motive. I don’t know how they knew that they needed the book.” I bit my lip, realizing I’d already said too much.
The Queen smirked. “You need not worry. I already know that the Keeper’s role is specifically to protect those precious objects. Therefore, it would be common sense to realize what the Athenaeum’s weakness was.”
My eyes widened. How in the world did she know this? Was it really that common of knowledge, especially here in Arcadia? I could understand the heads of MARC and the Shadow Hands knowing about the Keeper’s importance. But the Fairy Queen, too?
“The sword your uncle mentioned. This was not used to harm the Keeper. Therefore, whether its presence on the library’s grounds has any significance to your investigation or not, my people will not be further questioned by the MARC on this matter.”
Was she serious? “If a Fairy was at all involved, the MARC has every right to question them. That is the law, even across the Lands Accords.”
It was true—the Lands Accords were something every single Shadow Hand was well-versed in. The laws across all lands in Danann were few but overruled everything else. And one of those rules was that if another land’s authority figures needed access to the lands’ people to determine if there were unlawful actions taken by them in the authority’s land, it was automatically a given right.
“Do you have a specific suspect in mind to interrogate?” she countered.
“No, not yet. With the weapon that was found at the crime scene, we have reason to believe it would be best to start with your Fairy Knights, your Majesty.” I wasn’t one-hundred-percent sure about this, but I figured that was where Uncle Gardner would want to start.
The Queen didn’t seem to suspect otherwise. “Start with the Fairy Knights, and then what? If you do not find the link you’re looking for, will you move on to the rest of the kingdom? Question my maids? The people of Arcadia? I don’t suppose you’ll then question the Royal Family afterward? I have to admit that I would find great pleasure in seeing the vitriol my daughte
r, Rosea, would hurl the Shadow Hands’ way that dared question her.”
Heat rose in my cheeks while she remained just as cool-headed as ever. I suppose that’s how queens are taught.
I thought very carefully before speaking. “If we do not find any connection between your knights and the Keeper’s murder, then we will re-assess from there.”
“Oh, I am sure. And then your uncle will find another reason to stay past his welcome to exploit more of my people. It is the way of the Witches, I’m afraid,” she replied, pursing her lips.
“We do not exploit any race of creature,” I said through gritted teeth. “And my uncle would only follow the laws that have been laid out in front of him. It’s as simple as that, Queen Mabily.”
She stood up, looking down on me with a sneer. “You shall address me as ‘your Majesty.’ Do not make the mistake of thinking we are on more informal terms, you and I,” she said, her haughty expression on the verge on something deeper. Apparently, I wasn’t the only one getting frustrated by the conversation.
The air was crisp between us. Outside the windows behind her I could see lightning flicker across the sky, giving her an eerie presence on her throne.
“I apologize, your Majesty” Feeling bold, I pressed on. “I do have to wonder though. Can you tell me if you have any knowledge of your subjects being involved in the Keeper’s murder?”
She paused, looking as though she were choosing her words just as wisely. She and I both knew she couldn’t get around this one.
“I can tell you.”
I clapped my hands together. It felt rude, but I knew I was getting somewhere finally. “Fantastic. And, your Majesty, have any of your subjects been involved in the Keeper’s murder?”
“You know Miss Brady, I find your loyalty to your uncle and his group of lawful cohorts to be strange in nature. If you are no longer part of this organization, then why concern yourself with such a thing?” she said, gracefully folding her arms.