Fire Kin
Page 33
Alder, as Bryony had predicted, was so far refusing to see her baby. She gave her a name, though. Thea. And she asked Lily to take care of her. Lily had agreed, but she sent word to Alder every day of Thea’s progress. And beyond giving her daughter a name, she had given me something more. Her story. Of how Salvia had kidnapped her from her Family—a minor branch of the sa’Ambriels—and given her to Ignatius. Which was something Salvia had managed to leave out of her confession. Alder didn’t know why they had done it, but her testimony was enough to have sealed Salvia’s fate. Which left me somewhat grateful that Salvia had taken the matter out of my hands. Two executions in one day would be hard to stomach.
But hopefully Salvia’s and Ignatius’ deaths would ease some of Alder’s wounds and those of all the others damaged in this war. Maybe enough to bring us all some peace in the light.
Thea meant “light,” so Saskia informed me. It seemed an odd name for a wraith, but I trusted Lily to give her the strength to live up to it. Simon would give her humanity as well. And, unless I misjudged things, Lily wouldn’t give up until Alder had some involvement in her daughter’s life too.
But that was the future. A good future. The future that I strove for. A City made whole again.
I looked out at the square while I waited. This time the Blood—those who’d survived—answered my summons as true dark fell. At their head stood Lady Adeline, who’d taken the reins of power into her black velvet gloves and didn’t show any intention of letting go anytime soon. I hadn’t asked her exactly how she’d consolidated her power. She was willing to sign the treaty and that was enough for now. I trusted that she had learned enough from what had gone before not to try to overstep her bounds.
The Beasts and the humans waited. And my Fae. Bryony stood closest to me, wearing a somber blue dress. But my ring gleamed still on her hand and that was enough for me.
There was a hum of noise through the crowd as Guy and a squad of Templars led Ignatius toward me.
My stomach clenched in protest, but I set my teeth. My rule. My justice. My hand.
Guy looked at me, something that might have been sympathy flashing in the ice-blue eyes, before he bowed and stepped back, leaving me alone with Ignatius.
I wondered if he would try anything. I hoped he wasn’t that stupid.
“Ignatius Grey, for the crime of treason against the treaty and the murder of the Veiled Queen, you have been sentenced to death. Do you understand?”
He nodded.
“Do you wish to say anything?” It was tradition to offer last words.
A head shake, long white hair blowing in the cool night wind.
“Very well.” I stared at him wishing I felt something more noble. Wasn’t I supposed to feel triumphant? Kingly? Victorious? Mostly I just felt tired and angry. “Fire or steel?”
He smiled then. “Makes no difference to me, Your Majesty. Do your worst.”
I gritted my teeth. I was tempted to blast him to ash where he stood, but that felt too easy somehow. My justice. My hand. If I was to hold this peace, then every last person had to know what breaking my laws would bring. I drew the queen’s sword. Took a breath. And took his head off with a single blow.
Aftermath
BRYONY
“This is a strange way to celebrate after a wedding,” I said as Ash led me down into the tunnels beneath St. Giles.
He paused on the next step, twisting back to look at me. “Well, you have to admit, it was an unusual wedding. I’d go so far as to guess that there has never been a wedding quite like it before.”
“You may be right at that,” I said, pausing to catch my breath. I fought the urge to laugh, a symptom of too much champagne. “A wraith marrying a sunmage in a garden with the Templar Abbott General officiating. And the Fae king in the wedding party. That’s one for the history books.” I did laugh then, remembering. It had been a strange and long three months. Full of change. The treaty was in place once more and the peace seemed to be holding.
The Fae Court wasn’t finding Ash to be quite the ruler they’d expected. He’d declared that there had been enough veils and mystery and that the Fae couldn’t spend all their time hidden in Summerdale. It was to be an uphill battle, but he seemed to be winning so far. If only because he was leading by example and spent a lot of time in the City. He even spent nights here, in the house he’d acquired for us—telling me that it was undignified for the Fae King to sneak around St. Giles to spend the night in my bed.
I didn’t argue that much. After all, we had plenty of fun sneaking around his palace in Summerdale, finding new and interesting places to be alone and take the moments of freedom we both needed.
Still, change was hard and tiring no matter how good it was, and today had felt like a gift. The early-spring day had blazed with sunshine, and Lily and Simon had blazed in turn with enough joy to warm anybody’s heart.
“I can think of better ways to celebrate,” I said as we turned the last corner to the hidden ward and killed the charms.
Ash grinned, looking ridiculously handsome in his wedding clothes. “There’s plenty of time for that,” he said. “Besides, I know you. You don’t relax totally until you know everything in the hospital is running smoothly. Simon made me promise that you’d check down here.”
“At least he has his priorities straight,” I said as I worked the wards to open the door. I barely noticed the iron for once.
“So I understand.” Ash grinned again and ushered me forward. I wondered exactly how much champagne he had drunk—maybe he’d followed Fen’s lead and switched to brandy after the dancing had started. Though everybody wanted to dance with the king, and Ash had spent a large percentage of his time guiding all the women present around the dance floor, so I didn’t see how he’d had time to drink too much.
We made our way through to the outer ward. As usual, there was only a low lamp burning. Atherton was nowhere to be seen. Lady Adeline had invited him back to the Blood Court, but he had so far refused the offer.
But maybe the change would sweep him up too in time. As long as it didn’t sweep him away completely. We needed his skills here at St. Giles.
I opened the door to the inner ward and stepped through. Only to stop dead. Because it wasn’t Atherton who waited for me or rather, not only Atherton.
Everyone was there. Guy and Holly and Fen and Saskia—still wearing the spectacular silver gown she had worn to the wedding. Holly was still dressed up too, though Guy had shed his formal clothes and was back in Templar gray and white. Atherton wore his usual black, being the only one who hadn’t been able to attend the wedding. And standing in front of them all were Lily and Simon. The white flowers in Lily’s hair were starting to wilt, but they both looked gloriously happy. And . . . expectant, was that the word? . . . as they smiled at me.
My heart began to beat faster. “What in the name of the Lady are you doing here?” I asked. “Don’t you have a wedding night to get to?”
I didn’t think it was possible for Simon to smile wider than he had been doing all day, but he managed it. “We’ll get to that,” he said. “But first there’s something I wanted to show you.”
I felt Ash’s hand at my back pushing me forward gently as the seven of them moved apart, to reveal one of the beds. Sitting on the edge of it was a thin girl with pale brown hair. One of our patients. One of the blood-locked. I knew her face and her body well. Had spent hours tending her—and the others—with Simon and Atherton.
But I’d never seen her smile. We’d brought some of the blood-locked back a little way. Enough that they ate and walked again but they moved like sleepwalkers and showed no emotion.
But this girl—I struggled to remember her name as elation started to surge through me—was smiling. Smiling at me now as she climbed to her feet.
“Hello,” she said. “I’m Florence. Who are you?”
I smiled back at her, unable to stop myself. Simon had done it. He’d found the cure. A cure for blood-locking. “My name is Bryony,”
I said to her. “Welcome home.”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
M. J. Scott is an unrepentant bookworm. Luckily she grew up in a family that fed her a properly varied diet of books and these days is surrounded by people who are understanding of her story addiction. When not wrestling one of her own stories to the ground, she can generally be found reading someone else’s. Her other distractions include yarn, cat butlering, dark chocolate, and fabric. She lives in Melbourne, Australia.
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