Black Night

by Christina Henry

“If you will come this way, please, Ambassador. Your coats and luggage will be brought to your rooms.”

  We pulled off our outer things and handed them to more faeries who appeared out of nowhere. They didn’t speak, simply took our coats, bowed, and slipped away again.

  “Passages in the walls, you think?” I whispered to Beezle.

  He nodded thoughtfully, then took off from my shoulder to fly ahead a little. I think he wanted to eavesdrop on the conversation between J.B. and Violet. The two of them were having quite the little tête-à-tête as we strode along.

  If there were passages in the walls, that meant there was always a chance of our conversation being overheard. I made a mental note not to speak too freely while we were here.

  J.B. and Violet walked ahead of us down a long stone corridor lined with medieval armor. Amarantha apparently really enjoyed playing queen of the castle, down to all of the accessories. Then I got a closer look at one of the helmets on the suits. Inside was a human face, frozen in terror, mouth open, eyes wide. I gulped.

  Nathaniel noticed the direction of my gaze. He leaned close to me as we walked.

  “Those are soldiers from the War of the Roses in 1460,” Nathaniel whispered. “Amarantha kept them as trophies when she helped the Earl of Warwick defeat the Lancasters at the Battle of Northampton. She added the armor later.”

  “Isn’t that in England?” I said.

  “Yes. Amarantha had her castle moved brick by brick when she migrated here two hundred years ago.”

  “Just how old is she, anyway?” I asked. This corridor seemed to be taking forever, especially now that I knew the suits of armor were filled with bodies.

  Nathaniel frowned. “I am unsure of her precise age, but I believe she has recently entered the 1107th year of her reign as queen.”

  “Wonderful,” I said sotto voce. “How come everyone I meet is a kajillion years older than me? They’ve all had centuries to practice being crafty. Me, I’m just a thirtysomething thrown in the deep end of the pool without a floatie.”

  “I am your floatie,” Nathaniel said.

  I giggled. I couldn’t help it. Nathaniel looked so stiff and formal, as he always did, even when he said the word “floatie.”

  “You do not believe my assistance will be valuable? I assure you, I have had many dealings with Queen Amarantha,” he said, his voice frosty.

  “Of course I believe you’ll be valuable,” I said, not wanting to deal with one of his hissy fits right now. “It’s just that—”

  I was cut off as we finally rounded the corner at the end of the corridor and we were greeted by a set of polished oak doors. Violet finally took her claws off J.B.’s arm and turned to face us.

  “If you will wait here for a moment, I will alert the queen to your presence.”

  She disappeared inside the double doors so quickly that I didn’t have a chance to peek at the throne room behind them. Based on the rest of the castle, though, I was sure that Amarantha’s court would be dazzling, ostentatious and probably a little scary. I took a deep breath and steeled myself. Beezle fluttered back to my shoulder and gave me a reassuring squeeze of his claws.

  A few minutes later the doors swung open and I heard a voice announce, “Ambassador Madeline Black ap Azazel, on behalf of Lord Lucifer. Lord Nathaniel ap Zerachiel, escorting. Prince Jonquil of Queen Amarantha’s court, escorting.”

  I gave J.B. a sideways look. “Jonquil?”

  He took my arm very firmly and pressed his lips together. “Not a word.”

  “Oh, no,” I whispered. “I am definitely not going to forget this.”

  We stepped into the breach, J.B. on one side of me and Nathaniel on the other, both of them holding my arms. I felt like Dorothy skipping down the yellow brick road between the Tin Man and the Scarecrow. Too bad I didn’t have a basket to put Beezle in.

  The throne room was pretty much what I’d expected, although from a slightly different era. Rather than sticking with the medieval theme here, Amarantha had gone for Baroque. The ceiling was high and covered in gold foil and curlicues. The windows were draped with pink velvet and gold tassels. The parquet floor was polished to a high gloss. I half expected to see Louis XIV come striding down to meet me.

  The room was the size of a ballroom rather than a throne room, and it was packed to the gills with faeries dressed like they were at a black-tie wedding. Amarantha’s throne was on a raised dais at the opposite end of the doors, so that we had to promenade in front of the assemblage in order to reach her.

  As we entered the room, there was a momentary hush, and then the murmur of voices started up again, many of them declaring in disparaging tones that I looked terribly ordinary and other things to that effect.

  I was reminded of the first time I entered Azazel’s court, when so many of the angels had found me wanting. I just hoped that this visit wouldn’t end the way that one had—with someone getting their head chopped off. I still had nightmares sometimes about Greenwitch’s head rolling to my feet, her pale eyes staring forever into the void.

  J.B. patted my arms reassuringly. “You’re better than they think.”

  I smiled at him. “I know that, but thanks for saying it anyway.”

  He smiled back, and I felt that little flutter again, this time in the vicinity of my heart.

  The crowd parted before us in ripples, and I finally got a look at Amarantha. She was looking pretty damned good for a woman over a thousand years old. She didn’t even look old enough to be J.B.’s mom. Of course, Azazel looked like he could be my handsome older brother. That was just a symptom of being the half-human child of an immortal.

  Amarantha had mahogany hair pulled to a low knot at the base of her neck, the same glittering green eyes as J.B. and a perfect heart-shaped face. Rather than go overboard on the fashion front (as I’d expected, given the crazy gold and velvet all over the room), she’d chosen to set off her flawless skin with a simple, fluid dress the color of champagne. It left her shoulders bare and highlighted the diamond the size of my thumb that she wore nestled between her perfect breasts.

  We drew to a halt in front of the dais, and the queen rose from her throne to greet us. She did not, however, step down to our level. Point taken. Her eyes were hard and watchful, and I could almost see the calculations moving behind those green orbs. She was taking my measure and, like so many others, finding me to be less than she’d expected. Well, that was fine. When people have low expectations of me, I find that it’s easier to take them by surprise.

  “Ambassador Black,” she said, and as she spoke I heard conversations hush all over the room. Nobody was going to miss this one. “You are welcome to my court as a representative of Lucifer.”

  I gave a tiny nod of my head. I wasn’t going to bow and scrape. I knew my place in Azazel’s court and she wasn’t ranked that far above me. I also wanted to avoid showing this woman my neck, just on principle.

  “Queen Amarantha, I come to you as a representative of Lord Lucifer’s court for the purpose of reestablishing relations between the kingdoms of the fallen and the faerie,” I began, quoting directly from a speech Lucifer (or one of his flunkies) had written out for me. I’d barely had time to look at it over the past couple of days what with all the excitement that had been going on. That morning I’d been frantically trying to memorize it over breakfast. I’d felt like I was cramming for a final.

  “Lord Lucifer sends his deepest apologies regarding the unfortunate breach of conduct by the previous ambassador,” I continued.

  Amarantha cut in, her voice dripping icicles. “And what of the unfortunate breach of conduct by the current ambassador?”

  11

  THE PREPARED SPEECH DRIED UP ON MY TONGUE. I sighed quietly. She couldn’t have waited until I was done with the preliminaries before going for the jugular? What about all this formality and courtesy that everyone had told me the faeries loved? Thus far I’d seen little evidence of it.

  I decided that my best move was to admit nothing. I hadn’
t done anything wrong—not on purpose, anyway.

  None of the observers were bothering to disguise their curiosity. You could have heard a pin drop in that room.

  “What breach of conduct are you speaking of?” I asked, matching frost with frost. I felt Beezle twitch on my shoulder. It was hard to tell if he approved or not. I didn’t want to look at him and break eye contact with the queen.

  Amarantha’s face hardened. “Do not play games with me, foolish girl.”

  I stepped forward, away from J.B. and Nathaniel.

  “Do not speak to me as though I am a child. I am the daughter of Lord Azazel and the granddaughter of Lord Lucifer. I have come here as ambassador to represent their interest and to negotiate with you in good faith. I did not come here to be insulted or spoken to like a servant.”

  Amarantha stood from her throne and came down the steps to face me. Her beautiful face was suffused with anger. “And I did not negotiate for months with Nathaniel ap Zerachiel in order to have my kingdom invaded, my forest burned to a cinder and my darling pets destroyed by an ambassador speaking with a snake’s tongue.”

  Have I ever mentioned that I have a bad temper, and that it is quick to burn? I stepped closer to Amarantha, so that we were practically nose to nose. My magic surged up, hot and angry, and it crackled across my fingertips. The sound was like a gunshot in the silence.

  I felt the change in atmosphere as Amarantha drew her own power around her. Beezle flew backward off my shoulder, apparently sensing that he might be collateral damage if the hair pulling started. Not that I am a hair puller. If it came down to a fight, Queenie would definitely be feeling my fists.

  As soon as I had that thought, I made a conscious effort to dial back my anger. My magic receded, still humming just under the surface but less likely to go off spontaneously. Nobody would be happy if I punched out the faerie queen. I modulated my voice. I would not, however, cede ground, so we remained face-to-face.

  “Queen Amarantha, I was under the impression that it is generally considered polite to inquire as to the circumstances before making accusations.”

  She still hadn’t drawn down her power. I could feel the electric hum in the air.

  “Are you attempting to school me, Ambassador?” she said.

  “Only if you need it,” I replied.

  She seemed to realize that she, too, was on the edge of some precipice and that she needed to step back. If she grew angry enough to kill me (or to try—I wasn’t about to stand still and let her do it), who knew how Lucifer might respond? He might decide to bring the power of the courts of the fallen on her head. After all, I wasn’t just an ambassador. I was the last direct descendant of Evangeline, the only person Lucifer had ever loved. Surely such an insult could not be allowed to pass.

  Maybe that was what Lucifer had intended all along. Maybe he had intended that the negotiations fail. If I was killed, then he could openly make a move for Amarantha’s kingdom. At the very least he’d probably considered it as a potential outcome that benefited him. Lucifer, I was discovering, thought about things differently than everyone else. He comprehended dimensions, options and outcomes I would never have even considered.

  Amarantha narrowed her eyes at me. The whole room seemed to take a breath and hold it. Then she did something surprising. She stepped back.

  “Perhaps this conversation is best continued in my private receiving room.”

  I stepped back, too, about a centimeter. Just to show that I could compromise. “An excellent idea.”

  I was keen to get away from the audience. Amarantha would likely be more reasonable away from the staring eyes of her courtiers.

  She gestured imperiously to Violet, who quickly came forward to lead the way. There was a door just to the left of the throne and we all filed in behind Violet. I didn’t look at J.B. or Nathaniel. I didn’t want to see the disapproval that was definitely on Nathaniel’s face, and probably on J.B.’s. We’d only been here a half an hour and I’d already managed to bring the negotiations to the brink of total collapse.

  Just before entering the receiving room, I noticed five individuals who stood out among the staring crowd. They were all male, dressed in leather, flannel and denim instead of silks and jewels. As we entered the receiving room, Tyrone Wade winked at me. Jude and James both gave me hostile stares. I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I definitely did not want to run into either of them in the hallway in the middle of the night.

  So the wolves were here, too. I wondered if they had discovered who had slaughtered their pack mates. It seemed like a million years ago since I’d fallen out of the sky and discovered the body of the first wolf.

  The receiving room was just as plush as I’d expected, with red velvet pillows scattered everywhere and a profusion of gleaming wood. As soon as the door closed behind J.B., Amarantha turned on me.

  “Tell me what happened.”

  I bristled a little at her peremptory tone but decided it was best to just give her what she wanted. The sooner this was resolved, the sooner we could get on with the negotiations and the sooner I could go home. I still had Gabriel burning in the back of my mind, and I needed to figure out what to do about Focalor and Samiel.

  As succinctly as I could, I summarized Beezle’s kidnap, the hidden portal, our accidental arrival in the outlands, the abandonment of her warriors and my reasons for burning the leviathan and the spider. Amarantha listened with an impassive face. I did not attempt to apologize or make excuses. I simply presented the events as they had happened and waited. She would either accept it or not.

  Long minutes passed. I was amazed at Beezle’s restraint. He did not make a single smart comment.

  “Very well,” Amarantha said. “I will verify the presence of this mysterious portal, and have the warriors questioned more closely.”

  The look in her eye was a little bloodthirsty as she said this, and I thought that the questioning would probably involve pain for the warriors.

  She continued. “I accept that wrong has been done to you when they abandoned you in the woods, and in the course of the kidnapping of your gargoyle. I also accept that any offense, if given, has been accidental. However, the fact remains that restitution is owed for the loss of my creatures and my forest.”

  “What kind of restitution?” I asked warily. I wasn’t keen on using Azazel’s money, but if Amarantha wanted repayment, I would definitely be sending the bill to Daddy dearest.

  She looked at me, and again I could see the careful crafting going on behind her green eyes.

  “I wish for you and your party to stay in my court for three days,” she said.

  Three days? I thought. How would I ever find Gabriel and prevent a demon uprising if I was trapped in Amarantha’s court for three days? Plus, I wasn’t sure I had enough food to last that long, and I wasn’t about to be tricked into drinking or eating anything from Amarantha’s kitchen.

  “May I ask why you would like us to stay an extra three days?” I asked.

  “Perhaps I am interested in you, Ambassador Black,” Amarantha said, and showed her teeth. “Perhaps I simply wish to enjoy the company of my son, whom I see so rarely.”

  As she said this, I realized that this was the first time she’d acknowledged J.B. since we had entered her court. Not exactly a paragon of motherly love, our Amarantha.

  I would have liked to have had a quick consult with Beezle to be sure I wasn’t missing anything important—and I was sure that I was. There was no way Amarantha would make such a proposal unless it benefited her first and foremost.

  Three days was a long time for me to try to avoid putting my foot in the trap I was sure she as setting for me. On the other hand, I was unlikely to be presented with another form of repayment that would be as relatively easy and cheap as this one.

  “Very well,” I said. “We will remain in court for three days.”

  “I could not be more pleased,” Amarantha said.

  I wished I could say the same.

&nb
sp; Amarantha dismissed us shortly after that, saying there was no point in rushing to negotiate, now that our stay had been extended. I hoped she wasn’t going to keep giving me the brush-off until it was time to leave. I didn’t want to have to rememorize Lucifer’s stupid speech every morning.

  We were shown to our rooms by more of the silently appearing servants. J.B.’s rooms were in the royal wing, of course, and he left us at the junction of the stairs to go right while we went left. He gave me a little wave but his face was troubled. I wondered if he knew, or suspected, what his mother was up to.

  The room was decorated like something from Amadeus , of course—frilly and velvety and not very comfortable looking. Beezle stuck out his tongue in distaste while the servant plumped up the pillows and drew down the covers on the bed.

  To my chagrin, I discovered that there was a connecting door between my room and Nathaniel’s. I made a mental note to put a heavy chair in front of that door.

  As soon as the servants were dismissed, Beezle began a flying circuit of the room.

  “Looking for bugs?” I asked, putting my clothes away in a closet the size of my entire bedroom at home.

  My off-the-rack suits looked sad and wrinkled in such palatial splendor. Even the closets in Amarantha’s castle were designed to intimidate.

  “Looking for ways to get in,” Beezle said. “I know there’s a door here somewhere.”

  After a few moments he stopped and hovered in front of a rather ugly carving of a cherub. The cherub had creepy, staring blue eyes. I’d have to put a sweatshirt over that thing or I would never be able to sleep.

  “Here,” he said, and pointed to the minute crack in the wall, slender as a fishing line. I would never have found it without him to point it out to me.

  “Impressive,” I said, and he nodded at the acknowledgment of his superiority. “Now, how to open it?”

  “It’s probably got something to do with this ugly-ass statue,” he said. “Don’t you ever pay attention when we watch old horror movies?”

  “I may have missed a few things while running back and forth to the kitchen for snacks,” I replied dryly.