She followed her mum downstairs.
Halfway down, she realised that Meghan hadn't told her whatever it was she had wanted to say. It was too late now; they were already halfway down the stairs, and just a few steps from the door of the dragon's den. Meghan managed to say: "They're a bit… different," by way of preparation for what waited on the other side of the door. Given everything else that had happened 'a bit different' could have meant they were two-headed aliens from the planet Zod or that they lived at the bottom of the Thames and survived on plankton. Was there even plankton in the Thames? Ashley wondered.
"You might even recognise them, they've always been close, looking out for you. Now, come on, they're waiting to meet you."
"Mum?" Ashley said, as they reached the last landing before the ground floor.
"Yes, honey?"
"Can I ask you something before we go in there?"
"Of course you can."
"Why haven't you asked me what happened at school today?"
Meghan looked at her then. She rested a hand on Ashley's knee. "Paget already told me."
"But I didn't, mum. What if I'd wanted to tell you?"
"I didn't want to put you through it twice, sweetheart."
Ashley thought about it for a second. "Okay, I can understand that, but what if I needed to tell you? There's stuff happening to me and I don't have anyone to talk to. We're not just talking about boys, you know, the stuff we'd normally talk about, this is different… so I can say I had trouble in algebra, but I'm supposed to deal with watching Miss Lake die by myself? There's so much… too much. I'm frightened. I went to Miss Lake to ask her about something Aunt Elspeth had written in a letter I found, she was going to tell me what it meant, and now she's dead." When she said it aloud it was so much harder to ignore the obvious link. "It's my fault isn't it? She's dead because of me, isn't she? Because I wanted her to explain things… What's happening, mum? What sort of trouble are we in?"
Meghan looked at her daughter. She didn't smile or make light of it this time. No jokes. She nodded to herself, obviously trying to work out what to say next. It was the first time she'd slowed down enough to listen to anything Ashley had been saying, she realised.
Meghan took her daughter's hand in hers and held it tight.
"Listen to me: it's not your fault. None of it is your fault. Okay?" Ashley nodded, even though she didn't believe it. "You didn't ask for any of this, you're just a kid, an ordinary kid. Even if nothing feels very ordinary right now, it's all going to be all right, I promise."
Ashley nodded again.
"The people downstairs are here to help. They know what you are going through. They can explain better than I can. You've got to trust them, darling. I do. Dad does. I promise. Do you trust me?" Ashley nodded again. "Okay. Come on then. Let's get this over with."
Ashley touched the oil-painted face of one of her ancestors on the wall. She'd always hated the paintings. They were creepy. It wasn't just that the eyes followed her wherever she was, either. They were too lifelike. She had to remind herself that they were just made of oil paint. She didn't know who this one was. Some great great great (and probably a lot more great's along the way) uncle twice removed who had once ridden in the King's Hunt back when they chased wild boar across Hampstead Heath and ate the slow-roasted kill at the feast that night. She remembered that. That was his claim to fame. He'd hunted with the king. She wondered how someone would remember her in three hundred years time? Would they stand on this staircase looking at her photograph and think: ah that was my aunt who once saw a murder?
Voices from downstairs broke her from her reverie.
They were raised in argument. It wasn't too hard to work out that she was the bone of contention—or rather what to do with her. She couldn't hear everything, but what she could was enough to pique her curiosity. And curiosity has killed how many cats now? She thought to herself. I'm beginning to lose count. Behind the closed door one voice, a little more strident than the others, insisted, "The girl has a right to know who she is!"
"I don't disagree, Targyn, but not yet. Not now. There is a time and a place for the whole truth and this is not it." Another countered.
"It is too much, too soon," she heard Paget say. It was the only voice she recognised.
"Our duty has always been to Tanaquill. The whole truth doesn't serve anyone. We need to get the girl away from here before Blackwater Blaze finishes what he's started."
"It is wrong to start this with lies!"
"Ever the idealist, my friend. Even after all this time."
"I won't stand here arguing duty with you, Ephram. It's all semantics. You twist my words to confuse me, but answer me this one question, convince me: when would be better? Not when Blackwater Blaze has torn out her throat and ended every last hope our people have of justice, surely? Because he will, you know. That's why he is here. He's come as a killer."
"Of course not. That's not what I am saying, and you know it."
"So when?"
"When she's safe."
"But that's the whole point: she will never be safe."
"All I know is, ignorance isn't bliss, it's dangerous. It's her life, she deserves to know. It's the only way she'll have a chance."
Ashley looked at her mum.
"Are they talking about me?"
Meghan nodded.
Ignorance really wasn't bliss.
She opened the door.
The people gathered inside immediately fell quiet.
There were six of them.
Ashley saw Paget standing by the fireplace. There was something different about the woman—she didn't look like a servant amongst this company. Paget wasn't the only person she recognised. She saw the kindly-faced bus conductor sitting in her dad's chair, a white leather Eames recliner, which was beside the fire. He looked tired. He smiled at her as she walked into the room.
Over by the window she saw a woman in an old-fashioned topcoat with a top hat on the windowsill beside her and a set of juggling clubs resting against the wall by her feet. She had a pair of brass goggles dangling around her neck. They looked very much like the pair Ashley had inherited. Alethioptics, that what the book had called them, wasn't it? Before Ashley could say anything, the woman moved away from the window and dropped to one knee, bowing her head.
Ashley didn't know what to do or say to that, so she didn't do or say anything.
One by one the other five mirrored her, lowering themselves to one knee.
None of them would look at her.
Ashley looked at Meghan for some sort of explanation.
And one by one the others began to stand, all save the Juggler, who stayed on bended knee.
"Oh, do get up, Targyn. We get it, you're the most loyal and wonderful servant, point proved," a small flat-faced boy said, bouncing towards Ashley. Only it wasn't a boy, she realised. It was a dwarf. "Ratko at your service, milady," he said, thrusting a meaty hand out for her to shake.
She took it.
His hand felt weird in hers, cold and rough, like—actually, as strange as it sounded—stone. "Pleased to meet you, after all these years of watching from a distance." He grinned, and as he did, she had a flash of recollection. She'd seen him before. He had been painted up like a clown at her birthday party years ago. She couldn't have been more than five or six. Had they really been watching her that long? Ashley shivered at the thought.
"We was just saying, regrettable as it is, you're not safe here, milady. We need to move you. The enemy's got your scent. Nothing we can do about it. Sorry."
"You'll have to excuse me," Ashley said, remembering her manners. "But I really don't have the slightest idea what you are talking about," she tried to make it sound like a joke. It didn't. She sounded like a girl whose world was about to be pulled out from under her feet, like a rug, or one of those table clothes where the magician whips it from the table leaving all of the glasses and plates and cutlery undisturbed.
"Of course you don't, of course you don
't," the dwarf said, still not letting go of her hand. He pumped it hard, grinning. His grin was infectious. Despite everything, Ashley found herself grinning right back at him. "So much to tell you, so little time." He hopped around, seemingly trying to catch a coherent thought, and cried: "Names! We should start with names!" Ratko beamed. "Like I said, I'm Ratko, known equally as jester or fool, depending on what's what and who's who and just how stupid the last thing I did was. So, more often than not, that'd be fool. The woman still on her knees, that's Targyn Fae," he let go of Ashley's hand to point at the Juggler by the window. "Daughter of Tagaryn, eighth in line to the Fae throne, those that know her call her Targyn the Juggler." Targyn rose slowly, towering over the dwarf when she came to her full height. "I call her Lanky and, to be honest, find myself frequently amazed there isn't snow up there on the top of her hat."
"I've seen you before," Ashley said.
The Fae nodded. "Our paths have crossed before, princess. Many a time over the years, in fact." Close up, she was by far the most beautiful woman Ashley had ever seen. It wasn't a normal magazine beautiful, not like the models her mum represented with their photoshopped poreless skin. It was a special kind of beauty. She had cheekbones so sharp they could have been used to teach geometry, and eyes like glaciers. Ashley thought she could see a woolly mammoth that had frozen to death in there.
She tried to think where she'd seen her before, not just in the street this week, she remembered her from somewhere else, like the dwarf. She existed in a different memory from a different part of her life. But the harder she tried to place her, the more slippery the memory became.
And then it came to her: the children's ward, after she'd broken her arm when she was seven. She'd fallen off a swing in the playground at school. The woman had done tricks for the kids and juggled her clubs. She'd made them disappear in a pop! And dusted her hands off. Ashley hadn't thought about that day in years.
She realised that she was shaking.
These people had been watching her grow up.
That was just wrong. It was way too Big Brother not to give her the creeps.
"And the old man over there, that's Ephram Wanderer, you've met him, too, I believe."
"Yes," Ashley said. It was all coming together now. She knew every one of the people in the room, even if she didn't know them. "On the bus. Have you come to collect the money I owe you for the ticket?"
The old man chuckled. The smile didn't quite reach his eyes.
"No charge, milady. London Transport can live without your pocket money."
"And of course there's Paget, you know her," the dwarf said. She did, or thought she did. "The big man, that's Guerin, the bear. A good man to have on your side in a fight, believe me." The bear bowed low. She could see why he'd earned the nickname. Guerin was enormous, a mountain of a man with wild hair, wilder eyes, a barrel chest and arms the size tree trunks. Ashley had seen him before, too, the once a year, every year, when her dad had taken her to see the circus. Guerin: the world's strongest man. And the last time she'd seen him was only a couple of days ago at Aunt Elspeth's Will reading. She'd left him the first edition book by Jacob Grimm. What had she called it? The Concord? "And last, but by no means least, the lovely Posie, our dear Paget's sister. Well, one of them."
"Pleased to meet you all, I think." Ashley said, though she wasn't actually sure she was.
"The pleasure's all ours, believe me," Ratko said. "Okay, that's the introductions done. Well the ones I can do. The others are outside, watching. Making sure our way out of here's clear. Got to be careful these days. Things are happening so fast. Changing. We're not as many as we were, which is why this is happening. Now, as we were saying, well, arguing really, it's not safe for you here, Princess. We thought it was going to be, at least until you came of age, but the situation's changed. We're just trying to assess how much, and how to best accommodate those changes. What we know for sure and certain though is that the enemy has sent assassins through one of the Moongates."
"Enemy? Assassins? Why would someone want to kill me? I don't understand." Ashley said.
"No. Of course you don't, milady. We've lost two of our number, already: Elspeth, the Grimm and Marissa du Lac, the Mere. Unfortunately we can't know what they might have said before they died, but we have to assume the worst, and that we are all compromised. Which is why we have to get you out of here. None of our secrets are safe anymore, and you are the greatest of them."
"I'm sorry," Ashley said, shaking her head. "You're going to have to slow down and explain yourself much more clearly, because I didn't understand a word you just said. You might as well have been speaking Dutch."
"You don't need to," the dwarf told her. "All you need to worry about is that we understand what's going on right now. We're here to look after you."
"I'm not sure that's the best way to reassure her," Guerin growled, the words gargling around deep in his throat.
No one laughed.
"You don't think?" Ratko said, his huge heavy brow furrowing in thought. "I would have thought it was quite reassuring to know that we had her back?"
"To be honest, talking about me like I'm not here doesn't help, either," Ashley said, more to herself than the dwarf.
"You'll have to forgive me, Princess. I'm rather new to this whole bodyguard thing. I'm learning as I go. On the job training."
"Oh, do stop blathering, Ratko," Targyn Fae cut in. "Remember, sometimes silence really is golden. Every time you open your mouth you only succeed in making things worse. And considerably less clear." She looked back out through the window. Ashley didn't know what she was looking for, or who, but the woman was obviously on edge. "The poor girl doesn't know whether she's coming or going as it is."
Ashley was grateful that someone seemed to understand what she was going through, even if she herself didn't.
"I am sure it's all very strange, after all a week ago you were an ordinary child, well, a rich, spoiled, ordinary child judging by this place, but you were loved, had a mum and a dad and went to school and talked worried about being liked and fitting in, and now look at you. Your entire world has been turned upside down. It is too soon. None of this was meant to happen for months. You were meant to be prepared. Elspeth was going to talk to you. She's more patient than I am, better at explaining this sort of thing. Marissa sent reports of course, so we knew how you were doing, but that's hardly preparation, is it?"
"Strange just about covers it," Ashley said. She thought about telling her about the book, and how Aunt Elspeth was explaining things to her, just not in any normal way.
"I saw the painting on your bedroom wall, by the way. Very good. It's an interesting representation of the Kingdoms Under the Moon, but wrong, by the way."
"I don't—"
"No, of course you don't. We've already established that. Sorry to be so blunt, and apologies for skipping the thee's and thou's and milady's and princess's, but time is short. We can do all the niceties later. Assuming there is a later. You will understand everything eventually, I promise, and that's the best we can hope for. Right now we have more pressing problems, and one of them is that all of this talking is getting us nowhere. I fought with a wolf pack only a few nights ago. They were led by Blackwater Blaze, the Wolfen King's Alpha. I tricked them, laying down a false scent, but now our advantage is gone, the assassin knows that we are still alive so that misdirection won't work twice. Every minute we waste talking instead of getting you out of here is a minute closer Blackwater Blaze gets to tearing your throat out."
"Enough, Targyn, you'll scare the girl," Paget said. Her tone brooked no argument. There was no trace of her Eastern European accent now. She didn't need the disguise anymore, Ashley realised. That frightened her more than anything else that had been said so far.
"She should be scared," Targyn Fae said. "It might just keep her alive."
"And that's not helping, either."
"Frankly, I couldn't care less. My loyalty is to my Queen. She is dead. The girl is all tha
t remains of her. If I have to lay down my life to protect her, I will. Without question. But I'd rather not have to. And like it or not, all of this talking really is getting us nowhere. I say we vote, once and for all. All those in favour of moving the princess, say aye."
Half of the room said yes. The other half remained silent.
"Those against?"
Now they spoke up.
Ashley broke the impasse.
"Who is Blackwater Blaze?" It was a stupid name. She couldn't imagine growing up with a name like that.
"As Targyn said, he is the Wolfen King's Alpha," the old man, Ephram Wanderer, answered. "And because you walked in on him killing Marissa he has your scent. I wish it was otherwise, but for that reason, and that reason alone, I agree with Targyn, we need to get you out of here. Somewhere across the water, and just hope he loses your scent."
"He won't," Targyn Fae said. "Anywhere we take her won't be safe. Blackwater Blaze is a hunter. It doesn't matter if we take her across the rooftops or through the sewers, he'll pick up her scent again eventually. Some hunters might lose the scent in water, but not Blaze. It is what he does. He is a death sentence."
"Stop it!" Ashley said. "Just stop it! Please! This is crazy. All of it. I'm not listening to this stuff. First you've been spying on me since I was a baby? Now you want to take me away from my parents? I'm not your princess. I'm Ashley Hawthorne. That's it, that's who I am, and that's not going to change, no matter what you so. I'm not going anywhere. But I want you to."
"We've spent the last sixteen years and more of our lives watching. Waiting. Because we knew this day would come, child. It's how we react to it that counts. There will be time enough for recriminations and apologies later, daylight willing. We can worry about being nice then. If there isn't, well, then it doesn't really matter, does it? Right now you've got the best people protecting you. That's the truth. And most of us are agreed you can't stay here any longer. It's too risky."
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