by Jayne Faith
Jasper turned to Maxen. “Where’s the nearest door outside? I’ll need to send messenger ravens to them immediately.”
Maxen went and poked his head into the corridor, hailed a waiting page, and asked her to take Jasper where he needed to go.
“Do we know anything about Finvarra’s specific location?” I asked, combing my memory for any facts I could dredge up about the kingdom.
The Daoine Sidhe realm was Unseelie-aligned and governed by a triumvirate. The three co-rulers typically represented the three major Daoine shifter categories—avian, marine, and reptilian. There were no mammalian Daoine shifters. Kelpies, seahorse shifters, were their own unique Seelie race apart from the Daoine.
“I believe we do,” Maxen said. His sapphire blue eyes gleamed. “Rumor has it the ruling triad has planned a grand fete starting tonight that will last three days. They’re not officially saying what the celebration is for, but they’re bringing in beautiful female companions from other kingdoms. The featured menu item is squid from the Kelpie realm. And guess what the featured beverage for the event will be?”
“Elvish red wine,” I said.
Maxen’s mouth stretched in a little grin. “The Daoine court has reportedly ordered two hundred casks of it.”
I tipped my head back and let out a short laugh. “Two hundred? That’s nothing short of blatant. Nobody likes Elvish wine that much.”
“I know,” Maxen said. “Thank the gods for the hedonistic ways of the Unseelie, right?”
We shared a brief smile, but he quickly broke eye contact.
“Finvarra will be somewhere in Palace City, then,” I said.
Each Daoine ruler and their respective families and courtiers occupied one of three palaces arranged in a triangle, collectively referred to as Palace City. It sat at the heart of the Daoine kingdom.
“I expect so,” Maxen said.
I rubbed my hands together. “I need maps.”
He picked up a tablet, swiped and tapped it with his fingertips, and the monitor on the wall directly ahead of me lit up. “Here’s all we know about that region.”
Maxen spoke in generalities about Palace City and the area immediately surrounding it. I stood back and studied the diagrams for a few minutes. Oliver was a few feet away doing the same.
“How close to Palace City can we come through?” I asked.
Maxen winced and shifted his weight. “That’s a problem. The only doorway we’re privy to is many miles from the palaces. And it’s guarded round the clock. While the Stone Order never had any specific quarrel with the Daoine, the triumvirate never considered ours a valuable relationship and so didn’t grant us access to more valuable doorways.”
Shoot.
“What about concealing our identities?” I scrunched my mouth to one side, thinking. “We could see if Melusine would be willing to go and use her obfuscation magic to disguise us.”
Maxen shook his head. “Oberon isn’t going to let her go. At this point, he doesn’t want her expending effort on anything except protecting his castle.”
Jasper returned, and I turned to follow him with my eyes as he joined us. “How much notice would a small flock of Great Ravens attract in the Daoine realm?”
His eyes locked on the maps splashed across the wall. “They can be stealthy enough to make a quiet entrance.” He turned his golden gaze to me. “Thinking transportation once we’re there?”
“Not just that. We need to pop in undetected, and the only doorway we know sigils for is under guard.”
“Shouldn’t be a problem,” Jasper said. “Drifte can help us avoid detection as well.”
“So he’s willing?” I asked.
“Aye.”
That was fast. Jasper must have had some kind of direct line to the raven shifter.
Oliver crossed his arms and pushed his weight over to one hip. “Who exactly is this Drifte you keep speaking of?”
Jasper faced my father. “He’s a raven shifter who’s formed an arcane kinship with his animal form.”
Oliver’s eyes narrowed. “One of those creatures that’s more animal than human?”
I started to take a step forward, sensing the conversation could begin to unravel. We didn’t have time for arguments. But Jasper responded before I could.
“I suppose you could say that.” Jasper’s tone was mild, but he kept steady, direct eye contact with Oliver. “He has bonded deeply with his raven and feels most at home in that form. But I’ve known him half my life. He mentored me when I was becoming a Grand Raven Master. He saw the coming storm of the Tuatha’s return earlier than most, and despite being more animal than human in the view of some, he cares deeply about Faerie.”
I watched Oliver’s expression closely while Jasper spoke. It darkened at first, but when Jasper revealed the bit about being a Grand Raven Master, my father’s brows pitched in surprise and respect flickered in his deep-set eyes. A small measure of relief eased through my shoulders, but I knew better than to assume Oliver wouldn’t be watching Drifte with suspicion.
“And Bryna?” I asked, trying to move things along.
“She’ll be here within the hour,” Jasper said.
I gave him a wry look. “Really? Did you fail to mention I’d be involved?”
Jasper’s full lips twitched with suppressed amusement. “Nope. And she still agreed. Miraculous, isn’t it?”
I snorted.
“We can expect Drifte soon as well.”
Drawing a deep breath, I turned back to the maps on the wall. “Can you zoom into the palaces?” I asked Maxen.
The image shifted, and I took a few steps closer. “Any ideas about how we’ll figure out Finvarra’s exact location?”
“We’ll have to do some scouting, I expect,” Maxen said behind me.
Maxen, Oliver, Jasper, and I spent the next twenty minutes talking through different scenarios.
“I’m particularly concerned about how we’ll get close enough to him,” I said. “And then after, how we’ll get out.”
We pondered those problems in silence for a moment.
I tilted my head and slanted a look at Maxen. “What about Eunice?”
His brows knit together. “What are you thinking?”
“What if she asks for audience with Finvarra? She can truthfully say they had a falling out and she’s there to speak with him. The implication will be that she wants to make amends.” I paused, my mind whirling, and licked my lips. I knew she had no desire to return to Finvarra, and she couldn’t lie outright. She’d have to speak around the truth. “Jasper could accompany her, posing as her chaperone. He’ll have to be well-disguised, of course.”
“I like it,” Jasper said slowly.
Oliver made a soft grumbling sound of doubt in the back of his throat.
“She’s eager to be of assistance,” I said, ignoring my father. “And her skill set is distinctly different from any of ours.”
Maxen’s eyes widened. Jasper arched a brow.
“That’s not what I mean,” I said, planting my hands on my hips and casting withering looks at both of them. “She knows Finvarra well, and she understands how to navigate the people close to him. She’s had to survive as little more than a slave in the company of powerful people. It requires a brand of finesse that deserves our respect.”
“I worry that our party is growing too large,” Oliver said.
Before I could respond, the latch on the door released. A lithe woman with long blond hair strode in.
Bryna stopped near Jasper, jutted a hip out, and planted her hand on it. “I heard the word ‘party,’ but this looks more like a wake.”
I smothered a sigh in the back of my throat. “Hello, Bryna. I trust you know everyone here?”
She cast an unabashedly critical look around the group. Her eyes stopped at Oliver and she tilted her head. “You, I haven’t formally met. You must be Petra’s father.”
She stepped up to my father, the top of her head barely reaching his chest, and thrust out her a
rm, offering to shake. After a moment’s surprised hesitation, Oliver’s huge paw engulfed her hand.
“Oliver Maguire,” he said.
She nodded. “Bryna Marcourt.”
I wasn’t sure why, but seeing the two of them shake hands gave me a funny sensation in my middle. It felt like some sort of odd family reunion, except Bryna and I despised each other and she and Oliver weren’t in any way related.
“We appreciate your help and your speed in getting here,” Jasper said.
His eyes sparked warmly at her, and her sharp-edged expression softened under his attention. She inclined her head and then looked up and clapped her hands once.
“Okay, what’s the plan?” she asked.
I turned to Jasper. “Should we wait for Drifte?”
He shook his head. “Let’s lay down our strategy. If Drifte sees how we can refine our approach, he’ll let us know.”
I turned to my half-sister. “Here’s what we have so far,” I said, and gave her the rundown of how we planned to get into the Daoine realm and have Eunice get Jasper close to Finvarra.
After I finished, Bryna cocked her head and pushed out her bottom lip, considering. “Not too bad, but it’s not good enough,” she said finally. “Trying to get Eunice through the layers of people likely to be keeping the riffraff away from Finvarra is a stretch. She could get sent away at any point, and then what? Plus, it would waste way too much time. We need a shortcut.”
“Okay. Any ideas?” I asked.
A slow, devious smile stretched the corners of Bryna’s mouth, and her lids lowered partway. “Oh, yes,” she said, drawing out the words.
I returned her grin, and for a moment forgot how much she grated my nerves. “Do tell,” I said, lifting my palm in invitation.
Chapter 18
IT TURNED OUT my abrasive half-sister knew a hell of a lot about how to navigate the three castles of the Daoine Sidhes’ Palace City. I tried to get her to tell me how she’d come by the expertise, but she’d just laughed loudly in my face. I managed not to punch her in the nose in response.
By the time Drifte arrived at the fortress, it was nearly midnight. While we’d waited, we fetched Eunice and explained our idea. She’d been more than eager to help. Maxen called for Vera, our top fashion and wardrobe expert, and she’d found suitable clothes for Eunice and Jasper. The outfits were simple and muted, clothes people with few means would wear. She’d also helped us with disguises. A short sandy-blonde bob wig and fake eyelashes long as a Sylph’s transformed me into someone I didn’t recognize when I looked in the mirror. For Jasper, she found a shaggy dark brown wig to go under a cap. Oliver grumbled about feeling ridiculous, but eventually accepted a wig with a dark ponytail at his nape. I wasn’t sure it was enough. His stature and the carved features of his face still seemed too distinct to me.
We were waiting for Vera to find cloaks for all of us, and then we’d be ready to depart.
Drifte—with his long hair the blue-black of ravens’ feathers, solid onyx eyes, and rustic garb—stood off to one side with Jasper. They conversed in low tones in a language I didn’t recognize. Bryna, uncharacteristically quiet, was studying the images of Palace City that Maxen had pulled up to project on the wall.
Oliver stood next to me and kept casting furtive looks at Jasper and the raven shifter.
“He makes you uncomfortable,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
“He’s Unseelie,” Oliver said. “How can we trust an Unseelie in these times?”
I frowned. “Are you talking about Jasper or Drifte?”
He grunted. “Maybe both.”
“I’ll tell you what Jasper told me.” My gaze locked on Jasper as I spoke to my father. “This was before he and I became . . . involved. Just so you know that had nothing to do with it. This was also before Finvarra was known to be in Faerie, and it was back when there were only the bare whisperings of the possible return of the Tuatha De Danann. Jasper said he believed the only way through, the only way Faerie would survive, was if we could rise above the Seelie-Unseelie divide. Basically, he said that what we were facing was more important than politics, than the past, than any other excuse the average Fae could come up with. I didn’t put much stock in it at first, though I admit his passion on the topic did snag my attention. But I’ve come to see that he’s right.”
I could feel Oliver’s attention on me, and I half-turned so I could look up into his eyes. “If someone like me, who wanted nothing more than to escape Faerie politics and drama, can see the sincerity and truth in Jasper’s motives, do you think that maybe you could give him the benefit of the doubt?”
I said it without a shred of impatience or judgment. I just put the question out there and watched my father’s face. The muscles of his jaw tightened and then released.
“I suppose I could do that,” he said finally.
I nodded. “As far as Drifte goes, I know he’s an odd character. But I believe he and Jasper are similarly motivated, different as they might appear on the surface.”
Oliver tipped his face my direction, and his eyes met mine. “You’ve changed so much, Petra.”
My lips parted, but I didn’t speak because I wasn’t immediately sure if his statement was meant as a compliment or criticism.
“I knew you had this potential in you,” my father continued. “I knew you had greatness in you. It started to come through when you took up Aurora and defended the Stone Order in Oberon’s arena. But still, I knew there was more. I saw another glimpse when you took the throne. And yet I knew there was even more to come. I always knew you had greatness in you.”
His voice began to falter, and I had to break eye contact as my throat began to close with the pressure of welling emotion. I stared at the floor and took a deep, slow breath before I dared look up.
“I don’t think I deserve all that. I’m an absolute shit queen, for starters.” I let out a quiet, rueful laugh. “But I appreciate your faith in me.”
“You survived the coronation. You achieved some level of peace in the fortress. You’ve done it under extremely difficult circumstances. There’s more to do, sure, but don’t forget to give yourself a bit of credit.”
My heart seemed to cramp in my chest as I once again remembered that Oliver wasn’t my blood father. For a fleeting moment, I wished more than anything that he was. But with the next breath I realized that our lack of blood connection didn’t truly mean anything. He’d raised me, loved me, and believed in me. What else mattered?
Vera bustled through the door, giving us a welcome excuse to focus elsewhere. Dark garments were heaped over both of her arms. She walked around the room, handing hooded cloaks to each of us.
Drifte wordlessly lifted his hand, declining Vera’s offer of a cloak. She edged away, her eyes wide. Bryna sidled over to where I stood as the rest of us arranged our cloaks over our respective weapons. I braced myself for animosity, but she seemed subdued.
“You can’t really tell what he’s looking at,” she murmured to me without moving her lips. “Kind of freaks me out.”
I glanced at Drifte. “Yeah. It’s a little unsettling. You’ve never met him before, I take it?”
She gave a subtle shake of her head.
The door opened again, a page arriving with Eunice. The former consort had already come to our meeting room so we could explain what we had planned. She’d agreed to aid us and gone back to her quarters to change. Vera helped her with a cloak.
The page and Vera both departed, leaving only Maxen and the party that would set out for the Daoine realm.
“I believe we’re ready,” Jasper said. His hand shifted to the sheath that hid Gae Buide, though I guessed he wasn’t even aware of the movement.
“Before we go, I need a brief moment alone with Maxen,” I said.
I turned to the door and then looked back, beckoning to Maxen. His brows arched in curiosity, he followed me. We went into the small anteroom that adjoined the meeting room where we’d spent the last few hours. I s
hut the door and turned to him.
“We don’t have time to mince words, so I’m just going to be blunt. I wrote up a document that makes you the Carraig Sidhe head of state,” I said. He started to speak, but I held up a hand to stop him. “I know I can’t step down from the throne, but I’m not fit to lead a kingdom. Not as a true queen, anyway. I’ll lead in other ways, ones that allow me to use my sword. I understand the spirit of Oberon’s order, but he made a mistake. You need to be in charge. I’ll be queen in name only. I’m a warrior, not a royal. And I sure as hell am not any kind of politician. In spite of what Oberon has said, we do still have need for leaders with political savvy in Faerie. If I try to be a head of state, I’ll only screw things up even more for us. That much has become obvious over the past few days.”
“Petra—” Maxen halted, his mouth snapping shut, opening, and then closing again. Finally, he let out a long breath. “If it’s an order from the throne, you know I can’t refuse it.”
“That’s right,” I said.
I’d known exactly what I was doing in drawing up the official document. And unlike the other appointments I was making to fill positions in my court, where I wanted sincere buy-in from each candidate, Maxen was going to have to serve where I wanted him whether he loved it or hated it. I felt a small stab of guilt, knowing that I was taking advantage of his sincerity, of his track record as a faithful servant to his people. But I was putting him was where we—his people—needed him, within the confines of Oberon’s order that I wear the crown.
“Then I won’t argue,” he said with a grating edge to his voice.
“I know you’ll hold things together while we’re gone, and I truly appreciate it. More than you know, Maxen. We’ll work out the details after I return.”
Part of me wanted to apologize, to tell him I knew it was unfair that he wasn’t Marisol’s successor. Despite his humble service, I knew that was what he’d wanted, to eventually take the throne. His mother had been grooming him for it, had probably whispered in his ear since birth that someday he would be king of the realm she created. But did anyone’s life ever turn out exactly as planned? Mine sure as hell had taken a sharp turn off the course I’d foreseen for myself.