by C. E. Olson
He slinks through the trees and climbs the one closest to the cliff, staring down at the castle below. It's too far up to see people's faces clearly, but he has a feeling he'll know the Queen when he sees her. Royalty always has a certain air about them.
By the time he climbs back down, Reeve has their dinner ready and a pint of ale. “Anything good?”
“We should be able to see her if she comes out, at least. We'll have to find a way to get closer, though. The ridge doesn't go far enough; I won't be able to follow her.” He picks at his food and tries to stay away from the ale for once — he doesn't have a taste for it, not the way he does whiskey — and he needs to be at the top of his game here. “Are you ready to have an awkward conversation?”
“No.” Reeve sits up straighter with a wary expression and stares at Varis. “Fine. What?”
“Thank you,” he says simply. The words come out easier than he thought, so he continues, “I’d be dead if I left you behind like I wanted.”
The grin that spreads across his brother’s face makes him regret the words instantly. “Say that again, I didn't hear you.”
“Then you should clean your ears out. Maybe trim all that hair sprouting from them,” he quips. “I'm not saying it again.”
Reeve laughs louder than he should, but quickly quiets back down. “You’re welcome. Maybe this taught you a lesson about leaving me behind.”
“Or not.” Varis rips a bite of bread off with his teeth, not particularly interested in admitting it. Still, he knows Reeve deserves it. “Perhaps,” he amends. “Perhaps it taught me a lesson. And that lesson is that I need you, which isn't much of a lesson at all, because I already knew that. I just thought I needed you less than I wanted to keep you alive, but it seems that isn't exactly right.”
“Mmhm. I can see how much of a struggle this is, Varis. Don’t hurt yourself, now.” Reeve leans over to slap his shoulder and then takes a small drink of ale. “Ale tastes like piss. Stick to water.”
Varis snorts. “Do I want to know how you know that? Don't tell me, I’m a firm believer in ‘to each, their own’ and I don't want you to take that from me.” He stands, looking out at the clearing around them. “If we make it out of this, I'll buy you all the whiskey you can handle.”
“We will make it out of this. We’re the bloody Kesters.” Reeve stands and takes another swig as he walks over to pet Trys. “I miss Echo.”
“I know the feeling. For once, I miss her, too.” He starts to gather wood and kindling for a small fire as Trys soaks up the attention, then sits on the cold ground as the flames begin to grow. “And I always miss Trys when we go back home.”
“Have you ever tried, Trys? Tried to leave this realm, I mean.”
“Varis wouldn't let me. He's afraid I'll be hunted and killed in your realm. Butchered for my wings or my horns.”
“And here, I’ve been calling them antlers,” Varis says to try and lighten the mood. “Horns with mini horns attached, then?”
“Horns with little horn babies?” Reeve chuckles and walks over to join Varis.
“‘Antlers’ is a human word. The Fae call them horns, but luckily for me, they mean me no harm. They hunt the peryton that helps the Hammer... but they do not know it is me.” Trys sits down with a flick of his tail, and if Varis knew any better, he’d say Trys is wearing a smug expression.
“So why do it? Why help Varis at all if it puts you in danger?” Reeve asks curiously.
Trys turns his head. “Do you want to tell the tale, or shall I?”
“No, no. You go ahead, you're a much better storyteller than I am,” Varis concedes. “He'll just think I'm bragging if I tell it, anyway. Better to hear it from you.”
“He found me in the Star Court nearly ten years ago. I was smaller then, just a fawn. I was attacked by an amarok when trying to find my way back to my mother. They're rare, you see, and usually stay in the Lunar Court. I wasn't prepared to run into one, and the few Fae that kept to the trees scattered instead of helping me. Varis did. He and the one they call Aylard murdered the amarok before it could finish me off, but Aylard was going to do it anyway. A mercy killing, he'd called it. Varis disagreed. He carried me all the way back to the village and bartered the last of his coins for the medicines needed to save my leg.” He shifts then, drawing back his feathered, broad tail to show Reeve the scars from that particular attack, and Varis stares at the ground. “I owe him my life, and I learned that day I have no love for the Fae that abandoned me.”
“He’s right. I would have thought he was bragging,” Reeve jokes, but his face shows nothing but pride. “Sounds like my brother: the mighty Fae Axe of Ostusen.”
Varis rolls his eyes. “That's a stupider name than Fae Hammer. I'm apparently just an idiot who doesn't wear thick enough armor. The Armorless Twat of Ostusen, maybe?”
“That fits.” Reeve holds his belly as he tosses his head back with a quiet laugh. “Get some bloody armor that can block their damn balls of light.”
“And where do you suppose I find that? Our smiths back home can't fathom the amount of power one of those holds, and I don't think the Fae are exactly lining up to sell such a thing. It just slows me down, anyway. I need to be able to move silently. None of our smiths are that good yet.”
“Whatever, y’twat.” Reeve lays back with a groan and stares off at the sunset. “And no, I’m not letting twat go, blame yourself.”
With a shake of his head, Varis pushes himself up and heads for the cliff, signaling for Trystrel to stay behind with his brother. “Very funny. Call me whatever you like, it makes no difference. Everyone else does.” He grips a knot on the lower part of a tree trunk and glances back one more time. “Get some sleep. I'll take first watch.”
A FULL WEEK PASSES without a single sign of the Queen. Varis is cagey, impatient, and scared — scared that if they move any closer, they'll be caught, and scared that getting caught may be their only option. “I just don't know what else to do, Reeve. We have four days to deliver her head back to Balian. It'll take half that time just to find the portal again.”
“Hells. You can’t go back empty-handed... what if—” his brother scratches at his head “—have you seen anyone coming in and out more than once?”
Nodding, Varis points to a silver-haired Fae just outside of the courtyard. He's talking to someone else, but he's the only one that Varis has seen more than once. “Him. Just him.”
“Well then, brother. I think we need to be the monsters they believe us to be, and snatch him. I’ll follow him when he leaves and you stay here and watch for that damned Queen. Y’think she’s hideous? That’s why she stays holed up in that castle?”
“No,” he says honestly. “I think she stays in that castle because she's a queen, and that's what monarchs do. They hide in their ivory towers while they send the rest of us off to be monsters in their name.”
“Hate her already.” Reeve huffs and begins to prepare for his leave. “I wonder what that silver-haired shit does for her. Fetches her bath water from Delcor Lake?”
“Doesn't matter. Don't get attached. The moment we let them be real to us, we’re done.” He pulls the blade from his boot and hands it to his brother as Reeve stands back up. “Don't hurt him too much. We need him to talk.”
“Got it. Be back soon.” Reeve ruffles his hair annoyingly and disappears into the brush, so Varis starts to pace.
Trystrel paces with him until it annoys him and makes him stop, but he doesn’t have it in him to be angry about it. “You're making me nervous,” Varis mutters.
“You’re making me nervous,” Trys retorts. “Do you believe Reeve will succeed?”
“Of course he will. He's Reeve. He may screw around sometimes, but he's never failed me. Not truly.” Varis grips the handle of his axe and then drops it in favor of Reeve’s bow, nocking an arrow just in case. He isn't as sure of a shot as his brother, but it's better than nothing if something happens.
He watches carefully as Reeve’s head can finally be
seen off in the distance and within seconds, his captive comes into view.
Reeve tugs him along with his hands bound and kicks out his knee to force him to kneel when they reach the camp. “Hardly put up a fight,” his brother grins.
“You blew dirt in my eyes. Where is your honor?”
“Honor?” Reeve checks his pockets and looks around his feet as if he lost something. “Can’t seem to find it. Must have forgotten it in the Stone Realm.”
Varis snorts a laugh and drops down in front of the Fae man. He's hoping he won't have to resort to violence here since the Fair Folk can’t lie, but he's prepared for anything. “We’re just going to have a little chat. Do you know who I am?”
“Yes.” The Fae tugs on the rope and attempts to avoid Varis’ eyes. “I won’t help you murder, Hammer.”
Gently, Varis cups his chin and tilts his head up until their eyes meet. “Oh, but you will, or I'll be taking two heads back with me instead of one,” he says in a voice like ice. “Which room in the castle does the Queen spend the most time in?”
The struggle in his eyes is apparent and he bites his lips to keep from speaking, but his resolve doesn’t last long. “A few of them.”
“Sorry, you must have misheard me. I didn't ask which ones she spent a lot of time in, I asked which room she spends the most time in,” Varis answers, gripping tighter.
He grunts and curses in a language neither of them understand. “Her bedroom.”
“See? That wasn't so hard. You can be a good boy, huh?” Varis grins and lets go of his chin, but otherwise doesn't move. “How do I get into Queen Aine’s bedroom without being caught?”
“You can’t,” the man says sharply. Reeve walks forward twirling his blade in his hands, making the Fae squirm in fear. “There are guards at every entrance!”
“Entrance... and the windows?”
He looks like he's been trapped, and Varis knows he has the answer. “Looks like we’re going through her window, then. Which one is it? Which of those castle windows leads into the Queen’s bedroom?”
“The tallest tower,” he grits through his teeth. “Why would you kill the Queen? She’s the fairest queen we’ve had in centuries!”
Varis shrugs. “I'm the Hammer, not the Brain. I don't make the decisions. Why haven't you used any of your considerable talents to get out? You could've gotten free at any time, and yet, you stayed put. Maybe you don't love your Queen as much as you think you do.” He nods to Reeve, who tosses him a small vial, steps behind the Fae, and yanks his head back, then forces his mouth open. Varis quickly dumps half the vial’s contents onto his tongue then helps Reeve make him swallow. “Hide.”
He snatches his axe and takes off for the trees with Reeve on his heels, then watches as the Fae shivers. He's unbound now and the potion they gave him should wipe his memory of their encounter. Sure enough, as the Fae turns in a circle, there’s no recognition on his face.
The Fae looks at the remnants of the fire and their dinner, but if he suspects anything, he doesn't show it. They stay still and hidden until long after he's gone away, and Varis finally works up the courage to say what he's been thinking for days. “Reeve... I need you to go home. This isn't about me not needing you or you not being good enough because neither of those are true—”
“Piss on that! How many times have I told you? This is the bloody Queen, and I won’t let you do this alone. If something happened to you...”
Varis fists a hand in the front of Reeve’s tunic. “Don't you get it? Something will happen to me. I'm asking you not to come die with me. Go back to the Stone Realm. If you want to die so badly, drive a stake through Balian’s heart for me.”
“No.” Reeve returns the gesture, his fist so tight the shirt strains around Varis’ shoulders. “Listen to me. I will not stand by and let anything happen to you again, do you understand me? We will go in there and bloody die here today or we will succeed and kill the fucking King ourselves. Either way, we’re doing it together.”
He's either too weak or too dumb to say no, but either way, he grits his teeth and nods once. “Fine,” Varis mutters. “At least I won't be around to tell Laix why I allowed their future to crumble to ash.”
“Laix will be okay. Echo is with them and they understand why I want to be here. Can we focus on the bloody mission now? Why’d she have to be at the top of that bloody tower?”
Varis lets his brother go and turns to stare at it. “I don't know. Either way, we can't go up right now. There are too many people down below and we’ll be seen instantly. We’ll have to do it tonight. If she's sleeping, and the luck of every god we know of is on our side...”
“Maybe they will be,” Reeve says, his tone not as convincing as his words. “Will she get the axe, or shall we cut her throat where she lays?”
“Does it matter how? If we make it through the window at all, we kill her by whatever means necessary. The only part I need intact is her head.” Varis closes his eyes and fills the rest of his senses with the forest around them. “And even with that, I'm willing to make an exception.”
Reeve doesn’t respond to that with words, just a face that Varis has only seen a few times in his life. Still, Varis knows it like the back of his hand. It’s the face of a man with little hope. “You got our back, Trys? Might have to hop from that window in the end.”
“I wondered how long it would take you to remember I can fly,” Trys says. “I can do more than bring you back down.”
“Duh.” Varis scoffs like that had been obvious the whole time, but his cheeks flush when he admits to himself that it hadn't occurred to him. “Of course we’ll take Trystrel. In and out, no problem.”
“No problem,” Reeve repeats with a huff. “Is it possible you can just fly up there and behead the wench yourself?” The look Trys returns answers for him, and Reeve rolls his eyes as he releases an exasperated sigh. “Alright, fine. We fly up, chop up a queen, fly down, and then somehow get back to the Stone Realm without being caught. You’re right, Varis. No bloody problem at all.”
Chapter Seven
Aine
Being the queen isn’t anything like Aine imagined it would be when she was a girl. She thought power would be enough to fill any hole the lack of connection would cause, but she couldn’t have been more wrong. She doesn’t have true friends, she has subjects, and that fact weighs heavy on her more often than she’ll ever admit aloud.
But being queen also has its perks. Her handmaiden stands behind her combing her hair, and the soft touch of her fingers every night helps Aine sleep. Not that she’d be sleeping tonight. “Thank you, Dinae. I don’t know what I’d do without your magical fingers.” They share a laugh at the innuendo behind her choice of words, but before her handmaiden can respond, her door bursts open.
“My Queen.” Vaenor kneels, and she ushers him up quickly as Dinae helps secure her robe to cover her scars.
“What’s happened?” Aine asks, a chill traveling down her spine. No one ever enters her chambers once the sun has set, no one but Dinae.
“It’s the Hammer, my Queen. The Fae Hammer has come for your head.” More of her guard pile in the room, but the ringing in her ears makes it impossible to hear their boots on the floor. “Queen Aine?”
Vaenor’s voice finally cuts through the noise and she meets his gaze. “How much time do we have?”
“Minutes, my Queen. What will you have us do?”
As angry as she is for not having more notice, she doesn’t dwell on the emotion — she knew this was coming. Within minutes, she’ll be face-to-face with the greatest Fae assassin in a century and believe it or not, she doesn’t want him harmed. “Let him up.”
“My Queen?” he repeats, shifting on his feet. “Are you sure?”
“We’re going to catch ourselves the Hammer. Stay with your best two guards, and the rest of you, out.” Her voice is more confident than she feels, but she doesn’t let her concern show. “Why are you looking at me like that? Do you not think convincing the greates
t assassin of our lives to join our side instead is wise?”
Sadness flicks across Vaenor’s features. “Of course I do, my Queen. Please forgive me.”
She hears the rumble of their boots this time as they take their leave, and when the door shuts, she loses some of her formality. “Bloody Hammer. I’m guessing the window....” Aine walks toward her bed and sits with her back facing it, her hands shaking slightly at her sides. “Get into the shadows. If it’s just him, there are more of us. We can do this.”
“He’s not alone, my Queen.”
Of bloody course he isn’t. “Well then, that is who you capture. Don’t touch the savage, he will win. Grab the spare.”
Vaenor snaps his fingers and signals his soldiers to take their positions in the darkest corners of Aine’s private chambers. Once they're set, Vaenor bows slightly. “I won't let you down, my Queen. No one is harming you today.”
“I know. Gods be with us.” Let’s see if the Hammer has a heart.
By the time they hear the sound of something landing on her balcony, it’s been so long she believed it a hoax. Her back straightens as she hears her window sliding open, and she sends a silent prayer up to whichever gods have their ears tuned. Their movements are silent, so silent she tenses and awaits the blow, but she hears the guards pounce on the Hammer’s company and stands to face them.
The man before her is younger than she expected. Handsome, to be sure, but shorter than the man he’s with, and their strong features tell her exactly who the companion is. “The Hammer has family? A brother, I’m guessing.” She walks closer to the Hammer, her heart pounding with each step. “I think we need to have a little chat—” she glances down at his axe “—without that.”
His eyes look wild as he watches the blade Vaenor is holding to his brother’s throat. It's written all over his expression that he's contemplating the time he has and the reach of his axe, and whether or not the two are on his side. Aine doesn't dare move until he makes up his mind.