Was there a link? I had asked myself.
So, acting on a hunch, I went driving off along the nearby roads to see if I could find large patches of that specific plant. I was just about to head back into the city proper when I’d seen flashes and heard gunshots from a house just off the road. I arrived to find three dead men who were later confirmed as ‘consultants’ in the employ of Crossbow Consulting.
And I’d found Karl Nystrom, who gave me his deathbed confession before he passed away from his wounds.
The officers questioning me looked astounded, but not as skeptical as I expected. I later found out that Detective Vega’s people had swept Nystrom’s place the day after Wainwright’s murder and found no trace of the man. There was no reason to suspect that I knew the man’s whereabouts better than trained Homicide investigators.
I didn’t think Vega would buy my story. But the LAPD hadn’t sent her.
An APB was issued for both Damon Harrison and Grayson Archer. Neither Archer nor Harrison had been seen for the last two days. If Chief McClatchy knew any different, he wasn’t telling. And for once, he hadn’t tried to lean on me or kick me when I was down.
Bob had his own problems. I suspected that he’d be hearing from the Internal Affairs Department very soon. So far, McClatchy had refused all requests by the press, but I knew that he was already starting to feel the heat.
All that was fine by me. It helped keep prying eyes away from Fitzwilliam’s presence in this world. If the Creatures of the Dark knew he was here, they’d immediately try to kill him while he lay helpless in his hospital bed.
Fitzwilliam’s snores faded away. His eyes fluttered open and he yawned. The King blinked owlishly as he spotted me sitting at his side.
“It is good to see a familiar face again,” he remarked, in a soft, weak voice.
“Oh, thank God,” I said, and to my surprise, my voice almost broke. “I’ve been out of my mind with worry, your Majesty.”
Fitzwilliam put a finger to his lips. “Shhh,” he cautioned. “We can’t have any of that. My name is ‘Fritz’ for right now.”
“Sire?” I asked, out of reflex. “Sorry, I mean–”
He chuckled faintly and I joined in despite myself. When I’d first come to Andeluvia, it was a struggle for me to get the formal addresses right.
I guess that I really had changed.
“That’s all right.” He frowned. “Did you really have to pick ‘Fritz’, though? What an odd name to be known by.”
“It’s all I could think of at the time,” I explained. “After all, I don’t know your first name.”
“That’s because I am your liege lord, and you hold fealty to me. It is not fitting for a vassal to know their monarch’s first name unless they are the closest of friends.” He paused and smiled at me. “It’s ‘Arthur’, by the way.”
I sat back in my chair, amazed and delighted. I had to hunt for my next words, since he had just scrambled my brain.
“Ahh…I mean, um, thank you, Arthur. That’s an extremely appropriate name for a king, actually.”
“Oh? Why is that?”
“It’s a long story. There’s time for that later.”
“You’re right,” he agreed. “I need some questions answered. And you need to give me news. First and foremost, what kind of tunic have they given me to wear? The thrice-damned thing falls open in the back to expose one’s nether regions to the world!”
“Well, we’re in a hospital. That’s a place for sick people to heal. The gown is made especially for patients, they’re supposed to fall open like that.”
“I see.” Fitzwilliam looked unconvinced. “I was unaware that public humiliation was a time-honored healing technique.”
“I…can’t really argue with that.”
“Then perhaps you can solve other mysteries for me. Your world is so very strange!” He pointed at the ceiling light, the television, and then at his bedside monitors. “For example, how do you get your torches to burn all night without emitting smoke? Where do the people on the little ‘light box’ go when it is dark? And why are there so many machines in this room which do nothing except go ‘beep’?”
“These are all very good questions. But none are quite as important as the news from Andeluvia.”
Fitzwilliam slumped back against his pillow. He still looked very frail. “You are right, Dayna. I waste time on trivia while you remain true to your duty.”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself.”
“My mind protests against inaction, even while my body lies prone. I can barely stand, let alone bathe or dress myself. It is unclear when or if I shall heal.”
“You shall,” I said encouragingly. “It could be days or weeks, but your body shall throw off the effects of the poison.”
He let that sink in. “I take it that you have already told the royal court that I remain amongst the living?”
“I did, and just in time.” I recounted the start of my climactic meeting with the four Heads of the Knightly Orders. Fitzwilliam’s eyes twinkled knowingly as I described my discovery of his plan: to make me one the five most powerful members of the court, under everyone’s nose.
“I am truly sorry about the debt you have incurred,” he admitted. “I could not discharge it. But you have triumphed. You broke the deadlock leading to civil war. Who did you select as my Regent?”
I cleared my throat so that I could get the words out. “King Magnus of the Centaur Realm.”
Fitzwilliam stared at me a moment.
Then he burst out laughing. It was a weak laugh, and one that made him cough, but it was a laugh nonetheless.
“I don’t even need to know your reasons,” he said, gasping. “I only wish that I had been there when you announced his name. You really got two more lords to vote with you?”
“Three, actually. Lord Alvey was the only holdout.”
“I can imagine.” Fitzwilliam began coughing some more. I spotted a half-full cup of water the nurses had left on the overbed table. I reached over, grabbed it, and helped him drink a couple of swallows. “Thank you. I’m afraid that our talk is quickly tiring me out.”
“I’ll leave you be,” I promised, as I put the cup back. “I think that’s everything you need to know so far. Everyone in Andeluvia just happy that you’re alive.”
“It was a near-run thing.”
“It was,” I agreed. Trying to make light of it, I added, “You were hallucinating, saying some strange things after they brought you to this room. My boyfriend, Alanzo, took them the wrong way.”
Fitzwilliam gave me an inscrutable look. “You mean when I said ‘I need you, Dayna. I need you at my side.’ I wasn’t hallucinating. My wits were about me.”
I felt my skin flush a little at that. “Yes, but I understood your meaning. You meant that you needed me as your knight. Your loyal vassal.”
He shook his head. Even that small motion seemed to drain what little energy he had left, but Fitzwilliam refused to let fatigue silence him just yet.
“No. If I meant that, I would have said, ‘I need you, Dame Chrissie.’ And now I have almost died without telling you something. Something important. You deserve to know the truth.”
My mouth had gone suddenly dry. “What truth?”
“That I have wanted you since the day I met you,” he breathed. “And why not? You are beautiful, you are intelligent, and you are brave. You are capable of deep, true love, and you inspire it in others. The one tragedy of my life is that I can never have you.”
I tried to say something, anything, and failed.
“I can never have you, because of the awful truth about holding on to power,” he went on, though his voice grew ever fainter. “A king does not rule alone, and he does not rule forever. I need descendants to carry on the line of Julian, and so I need a wife. But in this ancient war, my kingdom also needs alliances. That is what I need in a queen – what allies she can bring to the final conflict between Light and Dark through our marriage.”
“I can’t give you anything like that,” I choked out. “I’m just a…a…I mean…I’m not from your world.”
“No, you are not. From what I have seen of you, I believe that we could grow to love each other, given time. You could give me all I need as a man, but not as a ruler. And Andeluvia must come first.” His eyes fluttered. He held them open for just a few more seconds. “But know this. You are the first woman that I have ever truly desired to share my life…and my throne.”
Fitzwilliam’s eyes finally closed. He breathed steadily, and his inhales soon shaded over into the same gentle snore I’d heard when I arrived. I got up and stood next to the bed.
I bent forward and kissed King Fitzwilliam on the forehead. Then I pulled His Majesty’s blanket up to keep his chest warm. He didn’t stir one bit.
I looked around. The nurse’s station remained empty, with no one to peek in the window.
I leaned over the bed again and kissed Arthur once, on his pleasantly warm lips.
Only then did I leave my liege lord to his slumber.
Chapter Forty-Five
The throne room sat dark and empty this morning. It would remain so until King Fitzwilliam returned. Instead of a steady stream of blue-tunicked pages scurrying through the antechamber’s doors, only a pair of royal guardsmen remained, stolidly guarding the entryway.
By contrast, the doors to the Great Hall had been thrown wide open. The long, narrow room had returned to the exact same layout I’d been greeted with back when I’d first been summoned to Andeluvia by the Court Wizard.
A wooden, gilt-edged table stretched the length of the room. Three chairs sat clustered at the head of the table. The Lord of the Pursuivant sat at one, looking slightly uncomfortable in his highly visible spot. I sat at the other. The largest chair in the middle had been reserved for the Regent. It was still empty, and would remain so until Galen returned with Magnus Killsheven.
Other chairs inlaid with fleur-de-lis had been placed at regular intervals down the table. One side provided seating to the lords of the Eastern Reaches. The other had been given to the lords of the Western Reaches. Commander Yervan, as stolid as ever, stood behind and to one side of the empty chair.
These men normally had a whole room to shout across at their opponents. Now they were close enough to clash swords if they drew. As an extra precaution, Yervan had stationed his plate-mailed guardsmen at the sides of the room as a silent reminder to behave.
All in all, it wasn’t a recipe for easy harmony.
For the moment, things remained at a relatively placid grumbling simmer. And that was only because they had to be quiet while someone else read off a scroll. The Lord of the Pursuivant’s voice rose and fell as he went through a message Galen had sent on behalf of Magnus.
“Furthermore,” he intoned, “I have been reliably informed that my uncle shall arrive with his retinue to assume the position of Regent on the morrow. So sayeth the Court Wizard of Andeluvia, Skallgrym Sturmgalen of the House of Friesain.”
Lord Alvey rose from his seat, with the help of one of his three sons. To my surprise, he was easier to understand today. I sat up and took a closer look. Someone had fashioned the elderly man a pair of partial dentures, which helped eliminate his usual lisp.
“First we have a centaur in the esteemed position of Court Wizard,” he grumped. “Now we must soon tolerate the lash of another centaur’s rule!”
“I doubt he shall be ‘lashing’ anyone,” Lord Ghaznavi responded. “And if you recall, he has ruled us before. With no ill effects.”
“Yes, he ruled us by deception! Intrigue! Murder!”
“Those are interesting charges,” Lord Ivor remarked. The man looked better today, and he looked to Lord Behnaz across the way as he added, “Would you care to elaborate?”
“I would gladly put your head on a pike before I ‘elaborated’ anything to you!” Behnaz shot back.
Sir Ivor grabbed the hilt of his sword as he rose, his eyes narrowing. “Maybe it is not my father’s head you should be concerned with!”
“Commander Yervan,” Alvey called out, “I insist that you do your duty!”
“Indeed.” Yervan made a motion to the guardsman closest to the burly young knight. “Remove Sir Ivor from the chamber.”
“I have not drawn my sword!” Sir Ivor protested. “You have no grounds for my dismissal!”
“That would be true, if we were in the throne room. Lord Alvey has correctly pointed out that in the Great Hall, there are different rules and customs in play. For starters, anyone who places their hand on the hilt of their sword, whether it is drawn or not, shall be exiled from court for the day.”
Sir Ivor glowered at the man for a moment. The guardsman assigned, who I recognized as the mustachioed Sir Quinton, spoke quietly but urgently in the younger Ivor’s ear. The knight nodded and left the room without another word.
“Are you about done with your pettiness?” Lord Ivor asked icily.
“Not quite,” Alvey replied. “One only need a second vote to carry a motion when one is in the Great Hall, and the King or Regent is unavailable. So. I hereby make a motion to brand Dame Chrissie as a base, churlish, incompetent, hedge-mannered mummer of a woman, whose best use would be as a doxy, and an ill-paid one, at that.”
I stared at the man, dumbstruck, as he let out a cackle.
Lord Behnaz clapped his hands until his cronies joined in. “I shall surely second that motion!”
That got a gruff round of laughter from around the table. I scowled as Alvey smirked back at me from his seat.
“Oh, does the pretend-knight find my motion objectionable?”
“You’re damn right I find it objectionable!” I growled back. “Of all the ungrateful–”
Alvey shook a finger at me. “That is too bad. I ask the Lord of the Pursuivant, did you read the copy of the customs I gave you earlier?”
Herald pulled out a sheet of parchment labeled ‘Rules and Customs of the Great Hall’ and read it. His face flushed before he spoke.
“Oh dear, oh dear,” he said, flummoxed. “The customs of the Great Hall are to ‘remove any member of the fairer sex’ should the material being discussed be ‘objectionable to their ears’.”
“Come now,” Lord Ghaznavi protested. “These are ridiculous rules, from decades past!”
“These rules may be overridden, dismissed, or ended by the Regent,” Commander Yervan said, in a firm but quiet voice. The gold-plated knight turned to me. “But alas, the Regent is not yet present. Dame Chrissie, it would pain me to have to manhandle you. Might I ask you to exit in peace, and leave this bunch of crook-nosed knaves to me?”
“Crook-nosed?” Behnaz objected.
“I’ll leave,” I gritted, before glaring at the smiling faces around the table. “If this is how you define a victory over me, then you can have it and be damned! I am through with Andeluvia!”
I turned and stomped out.
In fact, I stomped all the way back to my office at the Dame’s Tower. At that moment, I wished that Rikka had stayed behind. I really needed someone I could get a drink with right now.
I slammed the door behind me hard enough to make the piled-up scrolls on my table jump. I didn’t even bother opening those anymore. Each one was a gentle reminder from the Exchequer that I owed a quarter-million crowns, and that I really should start trying to pay it back.
My vision swam with red. I strode over to the table and grabbed the scroll on the top of the pile. Then I turned and threw it into the smoldering hearth. The parchment promptly flared up before it burned to ash.
I began hurling scrolls into the flames to punctuate each of my raging thoughts.
To hell with it.
To hell with my debt.
To hell with my Dame-hood.
To HELL with this Kingdom!
I’d done everything I could to save the people here. To save their king from two different assassination attempts. To save the ungrateful idiots whose lands should have been destroyed by Sirrahon, cr
isped by the Seraphine, plundered by the Hoohan, or trampled by the Ultari.
For all that service, my reward was to be thrown out of court. A court that would never have convened had I not stopped the kingdom from sliding into civil war!
Of course the nobles had thrown me out. I was never one of them. I never would be anything more than an ‘outworlder’ to them.
And the best part?
Thanks to Andeluvia, my life in Los Angeles was a complete shambles.
Esteban was barely speaking to me right now. My bills were rapidly piling up thanks to my meager one-third time income. One of my closest friends had been stuck in a sanitarium. And who knew if I even had a career anymore? Between the hidden Andeluvians, cross-world demons, and a literally insane boss at the LAPD, why did I even bother?
I slumped in a nearby chair, alone and drained.
The door opened. Galen, Shaw, and Liam entered and came to stand next to me.
“We heard what happened in the Great Hall,” Liam said, as he gently nudged my arm with his cold deer nose. “We were told what you said as you left. So we thought that we should remind you of something.”
“Remind me?” I asked, puzzled. “Of what?”
“That all you have done has not solely been for the Kingdom of Andeluvia,” Galen said warmly. “Rather, all that you have suffered and endured has been for the world of Andeluvia. The one that we all live in.”
“Title or no, good fortune or bad,” Shaw added, “We know what thou hast done, and we shall not leave thee at thy time of need.”
Tears sprang unbidden to my eyes. I threw my arms about each of my friends in turn.
My feeling of solitude was no more than an illusion.
I wasn’t as alone as I thought. Not by a long shot.
No sooner had I wiped my tears away than a second knock came from the door.
I frowned and looked to Galen. He shook his head; none of them had called for more visitors. The centaur wizard trotted over to the door and opened it, admitting a trio of knights in full dress armor. They all looked familiar, though their steel plate or mail had been polished to a magnificent shine.
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