Arasinya offered me an encouraging smile before I returned my attention to Gilborg. Conal had dropped his hand onto my thigh and he squeezed gently as the Fae man spoke.
“When I met you, I told you that if you could rebuild the walls of Zaen, I would beg your forgiveness.” His red eyes were focused on mine, and while I'd gotten used to the unusual colors of Fae eyes, I found his particularly intimidating. But he sat before me calmly, his entire demeanor tranquil. “I am here to beg for that forgiveness.”
Startled by his announcement, I glanced at Conal for guidance. “Ripley's suggestion of probing the Fae worked,” he confirmed. He leaned forward, rubbing his palm over my cheek. “I've used it on Goren, Arasinya and Gilborg, with their permission.”
“It is quite painful, but not unbearable,” Arasinya agreed with a smile.
“They're all good, Sugar,” Conal continued. “No signs of anything untoward – and Gilborg's had a bit of time now to see what's happening here, speak to the other Fae. Gilborg's volunteered to take Rowena's test, answer any questions you have, just so you can be confident I'm right. Plus, he's willing to have the mark. Let's give him a chance.”
Goren patted my shoulder. “Arasinya and I know you have dealt with much, Little One. Let us see if we can assuage some of your doubts regarding trusting the Fae who have turned to our side.”
I blushed, dropping my gaze back down to Patrick before I again looked at Gilborg. He continued to watch me calmly.
“I don't know what to ask,” I admitted. This situation had been thrown on me without warning, and with Gilborg's alien red eyes on mine, I was struggling to think clearly.
“You know we cannot lie,” Goren reminded me. “Rowena is right in believing that any question requiring a simple yes or no as a response should be enough to prove our fealty.”
“Please, Nememiah's Child,” Gilborg said gruffly. His deep voice was so low, I imagined the floor vibrating beneath us. “Allow me to prove my worth, after my shameful behavior at Zaen.”
I considered the request. From my time in the Realm, and what I'd learned from Arasinya and Goren, I knew honor was an integral part of the Fae culture – something greatly respected – and to lose one's honor was tantamount to a fate worse than death. Gilborg had placed himself in this position – now he needed forgiveness to regain his honor among his compatriots. But first, he needed to pass the test Rowena had devised. “All right,” I agreed. I chewed the inside of my lip, composing my first question. “Are you loyal to Aethelwine?”
“No.” His response was quick. Decisive. I wanted to test it from another angle, not wanting any room for any doubt. The Fae could bend the truth – in this situation, I didn't intend to leave space for bending.
“Is Aethelwine the rightful Queen of the Fae Realm?”
Again, his answer was immediate. “No.”
“Is Arasinya the rightful Queen of the Fae Realm?”
“Yes.”
I forced myself to stare into Gilborg's eyes and he continued to watch me calmly, no outward sign of deceit in his expression. “Will you kill me?”
“No.”
“Will you betray our group – any of our group – to Aethelwine?”
“No.”
“Will you betray us to the Drâghici, Alberich Bran, or,” I swallowed heavily, “Archangelo?”
“No.”
“Will you fight with us?”
“Yes.”
“You'll join our group and fight at our sides?”
“Yes.”
Conal leaned forward. “Mind if I try?”
I shook my head, letting Conal take over. He'd obviously thought through the idea long and hard, because he grilled Gilborg for more than ten minutes, throwing questions at him in rapid-fire succession. Gilborg answered each one without showing the slightest indication of being pressured, no sign he was being anything but completely truthful. Finally, Conal put an end to the questioning and offered me a smile. “Are you satisfied?”
I nodded, my gaze drifting back to Gilborg and I was surprised when he smiled. The gesture was a tentative one, but the skin at the corners of his red eyes creased when it reached his eyes. “Am I to be forgiven, for my behavior?”
I smiled back at him. “Yes. There's just one more thing.”
He quirked a dark eyebrow, and a flicker of apprehension appeared in his eyes. “Yes?”
“You told me you'd beg my forgiveness… but you also told me if I rebuilt the walls of Zaen, you'd eat your own crossbow.”
For a moment, there was stunned silence, then Conal snorted out a laugh and was quickly joined by Goren and Arasinya. Seeing their amusement, Gilborg quickly caught on to the joke and he grinned. “Ah, but if I were to do that – what would I use to defend the walls of Zaen?”
“Good point,” I agreed. “I'll let you off this time. We'll need all the weapons we can get.”
Gilborg relaxed back in the chair, eyeing me with undisguised interest. “You are indeed an amazing young woman. Goren has espoused regarding your many talents with some monotony since I arrived, but I can see why he is so taken with you.”
“Charlotte is indeed remarkable,” Arasinya agreed. “And only twenty-one human years old.”
She was smiling indulgently, as though I was a particularly treasured pet, and I squirmed beneath the attention. “I'm not a child, you know,” I grumbled. “Twenty-one is an adult in our world.”
Conal leaned towards me, his mouth against my ear before he whispered huskily. “I'll drink to that, sweetheart. You are definitely, absolutely, one-hundred-percent woman.” The timbre of his voice sent little shivers rippling up my spine.
“Excuse us, Little One,” Goren said, amusement in his voice as he watched the blush spreading across my cheeks. “In the Fae Realm, twenty-one is remarkably young. We don't even begin to consider taking partners, having children, until we are decades older than you are now.”
“How old?” I asked, glad of a change of subject.
“Goren and I were in our two hundred and fiftieth year when we married.” Arasinya glanced over at Gilborg. “What of you, Gilborg?”
“I was in my three-hundredth year; my wife Rhoswen in her two hundred and eightieth.”
“You all live a lot longer, though,” I argued.
Goren and Arasinya exchanged a glance before they returned their attention to me. “As you say, Charlotte,” Goren said.
“Nememiah's Child,” Gilborg began, but I hurried to correct him.
“Charlotte. Call me Charlotte, please.”
Gilborg bobbed his head in assent and began again. “As you wish. Charlotte, I wish to speak with you regarding your desire to return to Zaen.” He straightened up in the chair, his body language matching his serious tone. “Would you be willing to listen to some advice?”
“All right.”
His voice was firm. “Remain here for now. Allow the members of the Fae guard to return to Zaen with you, along with a team of your men, and we will go through with the changeover as planned, and return to the Realm. Once the changeover has occurred, make an appearance as you did with us, explain the situation to the new guard, and I'm sure you will convince them to join our side, as you have done with me. Only then, would I suggest you continue to plan a return to Zaen.”
The suggestion stunned me. “Why? Why would you go back to the Realm? You've just told us you want to fight on our side!” For a horrible moment, I wondered if this was some sort of trick, some plan that Gilborg had deduced to screw us over.
Gilborg held up a hand, silencing me. “Please, Charlotte. I suggest this only for the good of the group. Surely you realize – we must return to the Realm. We are fifty-five Fae guards – we will be expected to return to our battalions and continue serving the Queen. If we do not do so, suspicions will quickly arise and Aethelwine will no doubt send more Fae to check on what has happened to us.”
“He's right, Sugar. They've gotta go back. It's the only way.” Conal crossed his arms against his chest, nod
ding agreement.
Frustrated, I turned to Gilborg. “But we need your help here! If the Drâghici locates us and attack, bring the Fae with them, we'll need all the help we can get!”
He eyed the pendant hanging around my neck. “The witch, Gabrielle, assures us the Drâghici cannot use the fallen Angel to pinpoint your position while you wear that amulet. Use this time to further shore up the defenses at Zaen, rebuild as much as you can before your people go back to the city. Continue seeking a way to stop the Fae breaching Zaen's walls. We can do you greater good if we return to the Realm, start to spread word of Aethelwine's deceit. You have only two Realm moon rotations before the guard changeover is scheduled. If you consider my proposal, you will have longer to plan your safe return to Zaen, a full two weeks more.”
What he was saying was true – I couldn't argue with the logic.
“What if the Fae bring others to the changeover with them? Archangelo, or Bran? They'll discover what we've already done,” Conal said.
“They will not,” Gilborg responded. “There is nothing of value at Zaen, as far as they and the Drâghici are concerned. They merely guard it on the off-chance you could try and return. If they intended to do anything else, they would have left a bigger contingent guarding the ruins and likely already brought in Fae craftsmen and masons to begin rebuilding.”
“Gilborg is correct,” Goren agreed. “From what I have learned from the men who've joined us, there is no intention of doing anything with Zaen's ruins. Aethelwine is not interested in anything outside the Realm, and the Drâghici have their own stronghold. They do not need another.”
I watched Gilborg for a minute, my thoughts racing. Rubbing my fingers over Patrick's curls, I considered for a long time and was grateful when everyone remained silent, giving me time to think things through. When I looked up, Gilborg's face was calm and composed. “Will you betray me?”
“No.”
“You'll agree to Nememiah's mark being placed on you before you leave?”
“Yes.”
Goren leaned forward, alarm clear in his expression. “Gilborg, that is too dangerous. In the Realm – if someone discovered it—”
Gilborg lifted one hand, silencing Goren. “Charlotte needs to have trust in me. Taking the mark will provide her with further proof of my intentions being honorable. We of the Queen's Guard have spoken amongst ourselves and agreed to this.”
“It is far too dangerous,” Arasinya said quietly. “If anyone loyal to Aethelwine discovered you bear the mark—”
Gilborg tilted his head in deference. “My Queen – our clothing will hide the mark, and the only people to see us out of clothing would be our mates.” He smiled ruefully. “My own wife, Rhoswen, has long since professed her umbrage at Aethelwine's rule and the decision to join the Drâghici vampire in this war. Many others within the Realm are unhappy with the state of affairs they find themselves in, the barbarity of Aethelwine's rule. There is much she has done to cause discontent amongst the people. My intentions are to approach the dissenters, contact as many unsatisfied Fae as we can. Advise them of Aethelwine's deceit. Try to turn them to your side. At the very least, we will create further discord among the inhabitants of the Realm.”
Frustration warred with logic in my mind as I considered his arguments; the nagging worry that our location could be discovered paramount. How could he and the others spread the word regarding Arasinya being the true Queen, if they were performing their normal duties? I'd already discovered from having Nissa as my personal bodyguard that Fae who were in Aethelwine's employ had little spare time to themselves, their workdays incredibly long and they could be called upon at a moment's notice. How could Gilborg and his men possibly spread word far enough to create dissent?
“This is too dangerous,” Arasinya protested again. “It puts not only you, Gilborg, but your families at risk also.”
He paused for a moment, tapping the table with one broad thumb. “I am painfully aware of that, my Queen. However, to do anything else would be too dangerous, the possibility of any change in our usual routine garnering attention too much of a risk. I would ask that as soon as you have returned to Zaen, and the fourteen days are used, that you allow us to send our families through to you. Once our treachery is discovered, Aethelwine will no doubt execute us, and kill our bonded partners, our offspring, immediately.”
Conal caught my eye, his expression guarded, but he nodded almost imperceptibly, confirming his agreement.
“Lucas? Keenan? What do you think?” Lucas, Keenan, Phelan, and Lyell were standing together at one side of our table, visible only to myself, but they'd been listening to every conversation I'd conducted today. Although they'd been doing their level best not to interfere, I was aware of their constant presence and now, the former King of the Fae looked as if he was about to bust a gut if he didn't get to share his opinion.
“Gilborg is correct. This is the best course of action,” Keenan boomed. “Two days isn't long enough to get everyone into Zaen safely and prepare for the attack that will no doubt come, the minute the Drâghici know you've returned to the city. But tell Gilborg to avoid creating dissent for now. There is more you can do, with the spirits assistance, than Gilborg and the other men of the Queen's Guard can manage in such a short period.”
“I agree with Keenan, love,” Lucas added. “You need more time to prepare for the return to the city and you need to use your own abilities.”
“What on earth can I do?” I snapped.
Keenan stared at me, as if he was willing a thought into my mind. “Think, Charlotte. Have I not been able to stay in your service for far longer in recent days?”
I bit back a frustrated retort, staring at Keenan while I tried to figure out what he was telling me. Obviously, something he wasn't allowed to reveal… not in so many words. Recalling the fact that Keenan remained solid and in our world, even when I'd been knocked out, and he'd continued to work with the new Fae after I—
“Okay, I get it,” I admitted with a wry grin. “But I don't know what I'm supposed to do with it.” Somehow, I needed to get Keenan back into the Realm, allow him to spread the word of Aethelwine's treachery. I didn't have a clue how to do it, but I needed to discover a way, and fast. Gilborg was buying us an extra fortnight with his plan, but it would be up to us to figure out the best way of using that valuable extension. Another question occurred, although I didn't expect a straight answer. “Why do I feel it's so important to go back?” I questioned. The thought was running in an endless loop in my mind, despite everyone's objections. I was certain in my heart we should return to Zaen, despite any obstacles we faced.
“Zaen is the ancestral home of Nememiah's Children,” Keenan said. Standing against the wall of the tent, he was an imposing figure with his sword's point resting on the floor, the hilt grasped firmly in his meaty hand. “It is natural that you would feel safe there.”
“But it isn't safe. I know it isn't safe.” I protested hopelessly.
“Gabrielle is correct, love. It can be made safe,” Lucas insisted.
Gilborg was studying me when I finished consulting the spirits, his thin lips curved into a smile. “I assume you requested guidance from the spirits of your dead?”
I nodded and Conal gave my thigh a reassuring squeeze.
“I hope they give you good counsel,” Goren said.
“They do.” I thought for a couple of seconds longer, confirming I was comfortable with the decision I'd come to. I explained to the others what the spirits advice had been.
Goren pursed his lips. “It would make sense. We need to bring the other Fae to our side in vast numbers, although I see no way for our former King to manage such a feat alone.”
“There must be a way,” Conal countered. “The spirits are taking risks in guiding Charlotte, however haphazardly, in the direction she should take. I think we have to go with their assistance.”
“I want to think it through for a while longer. We still have two days before the changeover of t
he Fae guard,” I added. “Let's talk to the other leaders, ask for thoughts and suggestions. Perhaps we can finesse the plan a little more; they might be able to see area where we can take greater advantage of your men returning to the Realm, or suggest how we can use Keenan's presence to turn the Fae against Aethelwine.”
“It would be wise to be expedient in calling this meeting,” Goren suggested.
“I'll arrange it for first thing tomorrow morning.”
Chapter 29: Of Doodles and Chicken Scratchings
The soft glow of the hurricane lamp cast a peaceful radiance around the tent, lighting the sketch I was working on.
In the little cradle Epi procured, Patrick was sleeping soundly and the only sound in the tent was the scratching of charcoal across paper as I drew. I was relishing the silence in these last few hours before the council meeting. Sprawled across the bedroll, I had the sketchpad lying on the floor, one hand clasping my hair away from my face as I drew. Conal was with Amoux and Nonny, discussing if Conal would return to his pack. He remained unconvinced, but Nonny and Amoux were working hard to change his mind. Why wouldn't they? A Tremaine had led the pack from inception. Conal and I had barely spoken of it – our time together was limited enough and Conal seemed reticent to discuss pack business. I suspected he thought I had enough on my plate, which was true enough.
Art was usually a release, something I'd always practiced to assuage my worries or work through them. I'd thought by practicing my craft for a few hours, it would relax my tired mind. Tonight though, it was doing nothing of the sort. Anxiety was whooshing through my bloodstream, giving the impression that muscles and bones were trying to escape from beneath my skin. It was difficult to analyze my thoughts when there were so many things I was deliberately avoiding.
My hand moved nearly autonomously across the paper while I concentrated on things I had given myself permission to think about. The most pressing matter – obviously – was Zaen. No matter how many angles I studied, my thoughts always came back to the same thing. No way of keeping the Fae out.
Sending Keenan into the Realm was the correct thing to do, but how could one man – albeit an authoritative, intimidating, former King of the Fae – spread the message to everyone? What we needed was some way of spreading news quickly, and no matter which angle I studied the problem from, I couldn't see how Keenan would manage it alone. Bringing about Aethelwine's defeat would be tantamount to not only stopping the Fae from attacking us, but also bringing them to our side. Their numbers added to our own, in the war against the Drâghici, could mean the difference between victory and defeat.
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