by Violet Grace
Victor has given up issuing commands to the two guards mesmerised by the mermaids’ song. Instead, he’s yelling at the ones on the ground to join him, but they’re too confused – or terrified – by the power of the mermaids to respond.
The mermaids continue their aria, swimming in slow, steady circles, occasionally looking up. The water vibrates around them as they glide hypnotically, reminding me of a school of sharks on a nature documentary. I want to stop it, just call a time-out on the whole thing, but I know that any interruption now will just help Victor.
The two guards are no longer fighting the will of the mermaids as they touch down onto the ground. As they trans back to their two-legged form there is a look of acceptance, perhaps even anticipation, in their eyes.
Two mermaids rise up on their tails and reach out towards the guards, offering a lover’s welcoming embrace, their smiling lips lush and seductive. There’s hunger on the faces of the guards as they eagerly leap into the mermaids’ arms, kissing them greedily. Their lips are still locked as they gently, blissfully, sink below the water.
The singing stops.
The Basilica fills with a deafening silence as all eyes stare at the water, waiting for the guards to reappear.
They don’t.
Abby’s apothecary chest is expanded and open. She works frantically at the side of the canal, pouring drops of various coloured liquids into a tiny vial. She shakes the concoction, removes the cork and sniffs at the top of the vial, like a wine connoisseur. Satisfied, she drops the liquid onto Melusina’s tongue.
The mermaid queen coughs, her eyes flaring open before rolling back in her head.
Abby waits a moment, shakes her head and curses under her breath.
‘Help Melusina,’ I say to Tom.
Tom looks over to Victor, still hovering in the air, unprotected except for his armour.
‘I can handle him,’ I assure Tom.
A murderous look flashes across Victor’s face as Tom swoops down to the ground. Victor rears up and I prepare to deflect his blast, but then I see it’s not intended for me.
He lowers his head and points his horn down towards Abby.
Time stills as I realise what Victor’s doing. He doesn’t want to kill me. He wants to destroy me, by killing my allies and my friends.
Abby looks up, frozen with terror. Jules leaps towards Abby but she won’t get there in time. Neither will Tom.
I reach for the power that has been building inside me, purring through my veins ever since Melusina restored it. I control it, I mould it, I unleash it.
A flash of blinding blue light strobes across the church as Crown Prince Victor Grigio is blasted to ash.
The ash falls to the ground like confetti. I’m left numb by the sight. Killing him is not what I wanted. But this was Victor’s game, Victor’s rules. It always was.
The remaining Grigio guards look at one another uncertainly. Leaderless, a few make their escape, fleeing the Basilica and giving the mermaids a wide berth. Others remain transfixed, planted to the ground, whether out of duty and honour or pure shock I can’t tell.
I fly down to Melusina. She’s being held just above the water, cradled by the mermaid with green-blonde hair.
Abby stares at me for a beat, her face pale, before she returns her attention to the potion. She places a yellowish powder into a copper bowl.
Tom’s hand is pressing the puncture wound on Melusina’s neck. His watchband glows, his face strained as he silently recites an incantation.
Abby adds a drop of a clear liquid to her bowl, which reacts instantly with the powder. Wisps of smoke rise from the concoction. She cups a hand around the smoky tendrils, uttering an incantation. Amber light flickers from her ring, and the smoke weaves around her hand, forming a ball. She gathers it up to her lips and gently blows it at Melusina. Like some sort of creature, it slithers into Melusina’s mouth and disappears.
‘It’s not working,’ says Abby. ‘Why isn’t it working?’
Melusina coughs again, this time opening her eyes.
‘I thank you for your ministrations. You are easing my journey, but your Fae spells cannot save me.’ She splutters, her body flinching with pain. ‘Where is the halfling queen? My time is short.’
I kneel down at the edge of the water, choking on emotion. ‘I’m here.’
Melusina reaches up to the corner of her eye and catches a tear on the tip of her finger. She hoarsely utters an incantation in a language I cannot understand.
‘Your hand, halfling,’ she whispers.
I hold out my hand, and the teardrop rolls off Melusina’s finger and bounces onto my palm. The outside of the drop is solid, like a capsule containing precious liquid.
‘One taste of the mermaid song, halfling. One drop only to free your mother.’
I slip it into the pocket of my dress and watch as she lets out a final long sigh, and breathes no more.
My eyes mist as the mermaids lower their heads for their fallen queen. The Protectorate maintain a respectful distance, sombre looks on their faces.
‘I’m sorry,’ I say to Rena and the other mermaids. ‘I never meant for …’
‘Save your sadness, legs,’ Rena says. ‘Queen Melusina departed knowing that our songs had been returned. Just like Aria, her story will be woven into the fabric of our lives; she will be forever honoured, eternally remembered for her sacrifice.’
I watch in silent heartache as four mermaids lift Melusina’s lifeless body in the water, her long hair floating behind her. She is held aloft as her mer-sisters form a makeshift honour guard around her. Eventually she’s immersed fully by the mermaids, who disappear into the water. The remaining mermaids dive down after them, their tails slapping the surface as a final farewell.
I stand amidst the ruins of the Basilica, surrounded by Tom, Jules and Abby, overcome by anguish and loss. I spot Mama, Maria, and some of the other scaevus girls crouched behind an upturned pew, shock painted on their faces.
The Luminaress weaves her way through people and debris towards us, a strange half-smile on her face.
‘Now that you possess the secret of the Scroll of Sirena, what plans have you?’ she says.
‘Bring back my mother and restore her to the throne,’ I reply.
‘Oh, but it’s too late for that, girl.’ There’s a nasty glint in her eye. ‘The throne of Albion is already occupied.’
I slip my hand into my pocket, my fingers curling around Melusina’s tear.
‘I’m going to step aside for my mother, just as I always said I would,’ I say.
She smiles again. ‘You are mistaken. The throne is held by another.’
I look over at the Chancellor, who has emerged from his hiding place and looks just as confused as I feel.
‘King Damius has returned purity and honour to Albion,’ she says.
‘But Damius is here, in Serenissima,’ I say, my mind racing. But I realise I have no idea where he is; all I’ve heard is rumours and second-hand reports.
The Luminaress’s face is triumphant. ‘House Raven has fallen.’
I’ve lost. Not just my throne, but my mother’s too.
I’ve been played from the start. Now I know why the Luminaress’s voice sounded familiar when I first met her. It was her voice that came out of my mother’s mouth in the crypt.
My mother never spoke to me.
She didn’t ask me to go to Grigio. It was the Luminaress, using some dark Art to animate my mother’s body.
‘This whole trip to Serenissima and the betrothal,’ I say, my knees turning to jelly. ‘It’s all been an excuse to get me out of Trinovantum.’
‘Sentimentality blinded you. One of the many weaknesses of your bloodline.’
‘Now just a minute, Madeline.’ The Chancellor is cherry faced.
She turns to him. ‘Ah, the mongrel’s loyal lapdog. It’s time for you to scurry away.’
The Chancellor does his best goldfish impression, opening and closing his mouth.
�
�While you and the others who have abided this abomination have been enjoying the Grigio hospitality in Serenissima, and all your Protectorate guard have been here defending the mongrel, we have taken Windsor. There was barely a soul to object. Any who did were swiftly re-educated.’
The griffins, the sporgente, the unicorn defectors. They were all part of the plan to distract me.
‘That’s preposterous,’ the Chancellor says. ‘Someone would have sent word of the invasion.’
‘Some tried,’ the Luminaress concedes. ‘They were dealt with accordingly.’
‘Why didn’t you just kill me when you had the chance? You knew I’d be unable to defend myself.’
‘And make a martyr of you? No,’ she tuts. ‘That would never do. You are much more valuable to us as a failure who lives.’
She smiles serenely.
‘Take her,’ I say to the remaining Protectorate guard. ‘Lock her away somewhere uncomfortable while I deal with Damius.’
I try to sound confident but the truth is, I have no idea what I’ll be walking into back in Windsor. My only certainty is that I can’t leave my mother. I assure myself that even though Damius has my mother’s body, he will not kill her. He needs to keep her alive in order to milk her life force and power to magnify his own.
Unless I’m wrong and I’ve already lost my mother as well as her throne.
The Luminaress stands defiantly, unconcerned, her hands folded in front of her, waiting for the guards. Two Protectorate guards step forward to take her arms.
Except they don’t.
Their hands pass right through her. The Luminaress glides forward slowly, smoothly, passing right through one of the guards.
‘You didn’t really think I would stay when those ghastly fish appeared?’ she says. ‘Even for a mongrel, you are remarkably dim.’
Her image, whatever it is, moves closer to me.
‘Some in the Order tried to make accommodations for you. It would have been so easy for you to live here in relative peace, while purity and honour were restored to the throne in an orderly manner. But you have proven yourself too obstinate to understand even basic self-preservation. So, I have come with a message for you, mongrel. Forget your mother. She will continue to serve King Damius and you will never see her again.’
Anger flares within me. I launch bolts of blue against the Luminaress, but they pass directly through, blasting holes in the mosaics behind her. She fades from view.
Rage still flaming inside me, I scan the faces in the room. I turn a full 360 degrees, staring them down, wondering where their loyalties lie. How many people were in on this ruse of sending me to Serenissima? It appears that the Chancellor was not part of the coup. For all his faults and disapproval, he does at least seem to have remained loyal to my mother. And to me.
But the Luminaress couldn’t have devised the whole charade alone. She and Damius would have needed co-conspirators to pull this off. People on the inside. My own court. Perhaps even some of those in front of me.
My eyes reach Tom, Abby and Jules. Dutiful Jules. Jules, my cousin. A sick feeling grips my gut, intensifying as Jules looks away, unable – or unwilling – to make eye contact.
Her father now sits on the throne in Iridesca. Are we still on the same side?
Are we even friends?
So much has happened between us over these past few days, I’m not sure that the binds of loyalty and friendship are strong enough to hold us together.
I look past Jules to the remainder of the Protectorate standing behind her. Will they fight for me – for a mongrel?
I find my voice, addressing them like I addressed the dishevelled crowds who came to see me so many times in Albion.
‘Some of you – perhaps even most of you – are wondering where your loyalties lie.’ My voice rings out through the Basilica. ‘What the Luminaress says is true. I am not of pure blood. I was born of both human and Fae.’
I pause for a moment, trying to gauge reactions, read the mood of my audience.
‘Some of you may believe that my humanity makes me unfit to sit upon the Fae throne. But I ask you: am I any less fit than a man who murdered your general, General Sewell, out of spite? Am I less fit than one whose lust for power led him to turn your brothers and sisters into pycts? And am I less worthy than one who then ordered those pycts to slaughter you?’
Gladys’s words come back to me. ‘Damius is the first man on the throne in over two thousand years. And how did he get there? By shedding blood. The blood of your families, your friends, your fellow soldiers.
‘So I say to you, if you cannot fight for me, then fight for the throne of Albion. Fight for the restoration of the Queen – the restoration of Queen Cordelia.’
There’s a moment of quiet and I wonder if I’m going to have to fight my way out of here, against the very guards who were sworn to protect me. The only one I can count on to help me right now is Tom.
A Protectorate officer steps forward and locks her eyes with mine.
‘The Queen,’ she says, standing to attention.
Another guard steps forward.
‘The Queen.’
And then another guard. ‘The Queen.’
Another follows their lead, and another and another, until the air is filled with a chorus of guards declaring their loyalty and standing to attention.
Relief washes over me.
I square my shoulders and raise my fist. ‘The Queen!’
A deafening cheer fills the air. I motion to Jules and she carves a portal in the wall of the Basilica. The mosaic tiles fold back to create an archway for me to lead my army into battle.
Tom, Abby and I hurtle through the portal first, back into the grounds of Windsor Castle. A light breeze announcing the first signs of autumn swirls through the enormous tree above us, partially concealing our position close to the butterfly house – and to my mother. Beyond, lies the palace.
Jules and the Protectorate guards follow, coming through the portal accompanying the Chancellor, who’s looking unusually dishevelled and more than a little uncomfortable.
‘You’ve got some explaining to do,’ I say to the Chancellor. ‘You must have suspected somthing.’
The colour drains from his face. ‘Your Majesty, you will always be my queen. I would rather die than serve another.’
‘He’s lying,’ says Tom. I’m guessing his unicorn senses are tuned into the Chancellor’s heart rate, effectively giving him a lie detector test.
‘I’d prefer not to hurt you,’ I say to the Chancellor. ‘But if you lie one more time …’
‘Very well, very well.’ The Chancellor holds up his hands in surrender and then closes them into fists as if he’s worried I’m going to start snapping his fingers off.
‘I assure you, Your Majesty, I did not know of the Luminaress’s intent.’
I look to Tom for confirmation of the truth. He nods and the Chancellor expels a breath of relief.
‘I will trade my loyalty in exchange for my safety,’ the Chancellor says.
‘You’re a weasel,’ I say.
‘Yes, Your Majesty,’ he says slowly, ‘But I am your weasel.’
‘I will give you one chance to prove your loyalty,’ I say. I give him some instructions and he swears to execute my orders faithfully. He bows and scurries away.
‘Will we see him again?’ Tom says.
‘I honestly don’t know.’
I breathe in the cold, harsh air as I scan the grounds. This is not what I was expecting. No destroyed or ransacked buildings. No trampled grounds. Nothing you’d expect to see in the aftermath of a battle to overthrow a monarch. Then it dawns on me: there is no evidence of a battle because no one was here to fight it. What a brilliantly executed decoy.
The Protectorate was busy guarding me from an imaginary threat in Serenissima, and most of the people skilled and senior enough within the Order to organise a defence were sunning themselves at the Grigio castle.
I peer up at the main flagpole and finally
see some evidence of the revolution. Instead of the flaming unicorn standard of House Raven, a new flag flaps in the breeze. It’s a solid black circle, with three barbs extending from it at regular intervals.
‘He just walked in and took it,’ I say.
‘There must have been some resistance,’ Jules says. ‘General Cassidy was here – and her officers.’
‘What about the palace staff and …?’ Tom’s voice trails off as his eyes lock on something in the distance.
I follow his gaze. A body hangs from a flagpole, about three metres off the ground. A bloodied and torn House Raven flag is crudely draped around it.
We race towards the flagpole. Blood, too much blood, pools on the ground. It’s a woman’s body. Long grey hair covers her face.
I use the Art to sever the rope around the woman’s neck and lower her to the ground.
Tom kneels beside her like a doctor even though it’s clear there is nothing he can do. He gently pulls the hair off her face.
The Supreme Executor.
‘An example to anyone who remained loyal to House Raven,’ Tom says.
I’m overcome with nausea. As the head of the Order of the Fae, the Supreme Executor was the only person I ever saw Gladys defer to. She was cold and intimidating, but she had integrity and loyalty. And she died because of it.
Pure anger rages within me. ‘So this is what Damius does to people who challenge him,’ I say. Without thinking, I look over to Jules. Her eyes connect with mine.
‘We need to move fast,’ she whispers. She orders one group of Protectorate officers to make a wide arc around the front of the palace to secure the perimeter. She sends another group towards the back and a few scouts to search for other potential threats.
‘No one and nothing gets in or out,’ she orders.
The officers disperse, leaving Tom, Jules, Abby and me. I cover the Supreme Executor’s body with the bloodied flag as best I can. It will have to do until I can come back to take proper care of her.
Magic smoulders on my fingertips. Tom’s watchband flickers as Abby pulls her wand from her boot. We sprint over to the butterfly house. I skid to a halt under the cover of giant rose bushes out the front.