The street around them had emptied.
“I may not be a queen, but I’m more than capable of taking you on.” She had no idea if she was or wasn’t capable, but she was damned if she’d let him know. “Last chance.”
He seemed to consider it, then backed up, letting some of his power drain with the distance. “You’re not worth the jail time.”
She let her own power go, the electricity running down her skin and draining away. He backed even further and she gave him a curt nod. “Good decision.”
A spark of hatred lit his eyes. “If you were the queen, you’d never make it out of here alive anyway. Oberon would see to that. Good riddance to her majesty.” And he spit on the ground and walked away.
The rest of her power drained away, leaving her defenseless and cautious. The area was deserted. Ardan and the guards were long gone. He’d be in the dungeons by now. She could do nothing until his appearance in court tomorrow. She stuck her hands in her pockets and hunched down into her borrowed leather jacket, making her way back to the inn where they’d left Triton.
Back in their room, she dumped the saddle bags out onto the bed and went through Ardan’s belongings looking for coins. She didn’t know much, but after seeing the way things had turned out, she had a good feeling she’d need money. She dug through the bags growing more and more desperate. The tent, sleeping bags, food stores—all good stuff to have out in the wild but here in the keep of the king it was useless. None of it would bring enough money to rescue Ardan. Would she have to sell the one thing of value she knew he owned? Triton?
No. She couldn’t. She went back to searching his bags.
Something had to be useful. She needed money and information. And even more money to buy information. She opened a small bag and pulled out the gauzy dress and high heeled shoes she’d worn when he’d first woken her up. A feeling of total helplessness overwhelmed her and she sank onto the bed.
“Damn it.”
It hadn’t struck her until now, but she owned nothing but a useless dress and a pair of stiletto heels. Even the clothes on her back weren’t her own. There was no money. She had no way to pay the innkeeper. She hadn’t told their hosts what had happened, but she’d dropped a few casual questions and found out—if they wanted to get Ardan out of jail, he’d better have money. And after looking through all his stuff, she prayed to the goddess that he had it on his person. That is, if the guards hadn’t stripped him of his possessions. Which, given the way the innkeeper had talked, was more than likely.
Corrupt jailers, corrupt court system. She sank on to the strange bed under the low eves of the inn roof and stared out at the throng of people in the street, not really seeing them at all.
How could she get Ardan out of jail with no money and no connections? What would the magistrate do to him? What were the laws? She was useless. She had no idea of how to proceed in this world. Or any world, for that matter.
And what was it about her that made her look so much like the Black Queen that people could be afraid of her? She went to the tiny mirror nailed on to the wall and tried to see all of her face at once. Purple eyes, pale skin, red curly hair—and a tiny crease between her eyebrows that she thought might become permanent after today’s disaster.
She couldn’t see anything evil, so why did the crowd?
She curled up in a miserable ball, her head spinning. Ardan had said she looked a bit like one of the queen’s aspects, but she was too young. Was there something in her past that she couldn’t remember that tied her to the other Aeval? Why were they named the same thing? Could she be her daughter?
A lump formed in her throat. She was someone’s daughter, but oh, to find out it was someone like the Black Queen? She shuddered and curled up tighter.
Regardless, her looks had put her in danger, and if she was in danger it would make getting Ardan out of prison that much harder. She needed to find out. She had to try to go inside her own mind. Maybe she’d have better luck than Ardan.
Taking deep slow breaths, and trying to relax, she calmed her mind. Ardan had crept into her aura without too much trouble, she should be able to do the same. She opened her Gift and let herself in. A smooth wave of cool lavender power washed over her, taking her even deeper inside her own aura. Here, the calm pale color of her power was streaked with deeper purple and even a bit of aubergine. She touched those streaks and they vibrated under her hands.
Ardan had said it looked like her memories had been cut out, that maybe she had done it herself, and she wondered if this was the evidence. She pulled on one of the strands. It felt thick and tough to her mental touch. He was right, it was like scar tissue and try as she might she couldn’t get past it.
An hour later and totally exhausted she came out of her trance. The sun had moved high into the sky. The day was wasting and she was no closer to finding Ardan. Swamped in depression she stared at the tiny dancing motes of dust lit up by the sun. A bright reflection had her blinking and she turned her head, trying to get away from the light. All she wanted to do was wallow in her misery. But the bright sparkling reflection moved with her.
“What is that?” She got off the bed. Her sparkling studded heels winked at her from the corner where she’d tossed them. “Stupid diamonds.” She flopped down on the bed. Then she sat up, a rush of adrenaline pushing her to her feet. “Diamonds!”
She had money. Now all she had to do was figure out how to turn diamond studded shoes into gold coin in a strange town with no one to trust. Then turn around and figure out how to bribe a judge. All of this without her memory. Easy.
Elation surging through her, she jumped off the bed and grabbed her sparkling shoes, dancing a quick jig.
“He’s saved!” And if Ardan could be saved, maybe she could be too, despite everything that was against her.
Chapter Eighteen
Thorn jostled to keep her position in the standing room only area of the court reserved for bystanders in the balcony overlooking the courtroom. She’d spent the evening before questioning their innkeeper, his daughter, the bartender, anyone she could find, on how the Golden Court’s judicial system worked. And all the answers had her heart sinking.
The shining castle on the hill, the gleaming stone walls, even the name itself—the Golden Court—it all implied honor. But the truth was—the entire place was corrupt. Bribery was what was needed. And lots and lots of it. Without that, Ardan was shit out of luck.
She’d shown up at the door at dawn, joining the crowd of wives, husbands, and others, desperate to ransom their loved ones out of jail. They’d had to wait to the side while first the money-lenders came and did business with the guards, extracting a handful of prisoners before court even opened. Then she’d rushed the desk clerk with the rest, and had been beaten back into a semblance of a line. It took her two hours to find out how much it would cost to get Ardan out.
The amount she’d gotten for the diamonds was pitiful, but when she’d pried out the additional ones manicuring her fingers and toes it had been enough. Or at least she hoped so. She knew she was getting ripped off by the greasy man with the thick black mustache, but he hadn’t asked any questions and he’d given her real gold.
She thanked the goddess she hadn’t had to sell Triton. She’d gone back to the dungeons and sent word through the clerk to Ardan, along with some bread and cheese—she had the money. Now, exhausted from a night of not sleeping and a full day’s work by nine am, she waited for the moment when the magistrate would set his price and she could pay off Ardan’s debt to society.
Locking and unlocking her knees so she wouldn’t faint, the morning crawled by. One after another, inmates were brought forward. She got the feeling for the system. Some prisoners were remanded to the higher court of the king. Some were sentenced to further imprisonment or the work detail. One poor fellow, who desperately called for his wife to pay his fee, was hauled off screaming to have his hand chopped off. His wife never appeared and it made Thorn’s stomach twist.
Finally
it was Ardan’s turn to enter the box for the accused.
He looked terrible. He’d been stripped of his silvery armor and he looked like they’d rolled him in the dirt. There were deep shadows under his eyes as he scanned the crowd. She waved. A relieved smile flitted across his face, gone as soon as the gavel came down announcing his name.
“Your Honor, I present to you, Ardan of the North. He’s charged with unruly disorder, breaking the king’s peace, and threatening the sanctity of the Oracle.”
“Those are serious charges.” The magistrate peered down over the tall wooden sides of the bench. He was an extremely thin Tuathan with yellow skin and a narrow beaky nose that gave him the appearance of a bird. It didn’t help that his eyes were a brilliant yellow. “Has the price been set?” Even his voice was thin and reedy.
“Yes, Your Honor. One hundred gold pieces.”
A gasp went up from the crowd. Thorn gritted her teeth. She had it all, safely tucked between her breasts in a tiny giant’s bag she’d found in Ardan’s equipment.
The magistrate frowned. “Hmm, I’m not sure that’s enough. Not if he threatened the Oracle.”
Ardan blanched. “I didn’t threaten the Oracle, sir.”
“Silence!” The magistrate pounded his gavel, the sound echoing through the court. “How dare you speak on your own behalf?” He glared down at Ardan. “I can see that the price is not dear enough, not dear enough by half, young sir. Three hundred gold pieces!” The gavel came down.
The crowd erupted into chaos.
“Silence!” The magistrate pounded until quiet had been reestablished. “There now. Have you the money?”
Ardan glanced at Thorn. I can get it, she mouthed. Her heart sank. She’d have to sell Triton. Fae steeds were rare and she’d found out yesterday that he was worth ten times that amount, at least. She nodded, her lips pressed together in a thin line.
“I can get the money, sir.” He gave her a short nod and she saw by the look of utter failure on his face that he knew how they’d have to get the money.
“Hmm.” The magistrate’s brows beetled together. “But you don’t have it today?”
Ardan darted a look at her before shaking his head. “No, sir.”
“Well, that’s no good. You’ll have to come back to court tomorrow.”
The woman next to her snorted. “As if the bastard won’t raise the amount tomorrow. That poor sod down there had better bring a thousand gold pieces or he’ll be rotting in the dungeons for the next fifty years.”
A thousand gold pieces? Triton would bring at least that much, she hoped. But what would they do after that? Could Ardan get his armor back? Or his sword? Would those require additional ransom, or were they already sold on the black market?
Nothing from her conversations in the inn the night before had led her to believe anything else.
The gavel raised as Thorn’s hopes dropped. They’d be penniless, horseless, and Ardan would be defenseless. And worse than that, Triton was more than just a horse, he had an intelligence that shone. How could she be sure he got an owner who would treat him well?
There was a flurry of activity at the front of the court.
“Wait. Your Honor—”
Thorn craned her neck to see.
An elvatian woman with pure white hair entered. She carried so much magic the gloomy interior lit up around her in a pale nimbus of light as she strode to the center of the room, dressed in a white glittering gown with the skirt front cut out revealing white leather leggings and tall embroidered white boots.
Thorn froze. She didn’t know if it was the icy way she stared down her nose at the magistrate, or the cool white glow that spread like starlight, but something about the woman left her cold.
“I have the three hundred pieces. I’ll pay his debt.” The woman tossed a small bag at the clerk. It grew as it flew through the air, gaining weight and substance until it was the size of a man’s head.
The clerk caught the heavy bag right in the center of his fat stomach. “Oomph!”
The magistrate’s skin went a pale shade of clotted cream. “Lady Aoife.” He rose and bowed. “We are honored by your presence.”
“And so you should be.” She gave him a short nod. “Now, let him go.”
“Of course, your ladyship.” He bowed over and over, his balding head bobbing up and down, looking even more, now, like a bird searching for bugs.
“And Magistrate, I want everything he came in here with. His armor, his sword, his money. Everything.” From her place below the bench she pinned the magistrate with her stare. “Do you understand?”
The magistrate swallowed, his Adam’s apple jerking spasmodically. “Of course, my lady.”
The woman smiled and the magistrate flinched.
“Thank you, sir.” She looked up at Ardan in the accused box for the very first time. “And you—I’ll meet you at the front desk.” Then she looked up into the gallery, pinning Thorn with a gaze that chilled her to the core. “And you.”
She turned and swept out, taking the glowing light with her and leaving the courtroom even gloomier than when she had arrived.
Thorn didn’t know whether to be relieved Ardan was free, or scared that they were now in the lady’s debt. Either way, she found herself heading for the lobby and a meeting with a woman who she could tell by one glance was dangerous.
ARDAN BUCKLED GLEAM onto his waist. He took a last look around the cubicle to be sure he wasn’t forgetting anything.
“Are you almost ready?” Aoife’s impatient voice called from outside the curtain. “Your horse is waiting outside.”
“Yes, my lady.” Not that he wasn’t grateful that he was finally out from the stinking misery of the Golden dungeons, but something about Aoife’s rescue chafed his suspicions.
How had she shown up at exactly the right time? How had she even known he was in trouble? Had she been tracking him everywhere he went? Yes, she’d given him this quest, and yes, he was grateful for the rescue, but the idea that she’d been following him made him twitchy.
He stepped outside. Thorn stood several feet away from Aoife, her face a smooth mask, only her fingers fretting away at each other gave away her nerves. That and the occasional wild red curl that rose, crackling with static.
At the sight of her, relief rushed through him, and he almost buckled at the knees. He was free. All he wanted to do was crush her lips with his and taste his freedom on her lips. But instead he bowed to Aoife. “Thank you, my lady.”
She barely nodded, picking up her skirts and turning as she spoke, “Finally. This place is intolerable.” She swept out of the hallway and headed for the stairs, her pure white skirts leading the way into the sunshine outside the prison doors.
Thorn frowned. “How does she have Triton?” she hissed. “I left him at the inn. I thought they had protections from thieves.”
He shook his head. “I have no idea. Come on, let’s go. She’s not a patient woman.” He headed for the door.
Of course, Triton had been one of the gifts Aoife had presented him with at the start of his quest so she might have a bond with the fae steed. Maybe that’s the way she’d been tracking him, through the horse. But as for everything else that had happened? He’d love to find out if she had another means to know what he was doing. He might be on this quest because of her, might owe her for her help, but for at least the next three weeks he was his own man.
Bright light fell on his skin and he lifted his face to the sky. He hadn’t been sure he’d ever get out. They’d stripped him of his armor and weapons. Thank Danu the compass had been safely hidden in a magic pocket keyed to his touch. Otherwise, he was sure it would have disappeared, much like his money had, never to be found.
At least he had Gleam back. He touched the reassuring weight of the pommel swinging at the top of the sheath. The sword was far more important than the coin.
“Mount up.” Aoife had pushed her way through the crowd and was already astride a dapple gray mare that glowed with mag
ic much as Triton did. A street boy held Triton and the reins of a fat pony with shaggy brown hair and a black mane.
Ardan patted the steed on the shoulder, rewarded by an affectionate nudge of the stallion’s big head. Triton whuffled a soft breath in his hair and Ardan whispered back, “Good to see you too.” He raised his voice. “I still need to see the Oracle.”
“Haven’t you wasted enough time on that trinket? It didn’t lead you to the queen.” She gave him a stern look. “Or did it?”
“That’s why I need to speak to him. He’s got some answering to do.”
She sighed. “Fine. The girl and I will go ahead to my house. You can meet us there. Get on the pony, girl, and we’ll go.”
“Can’t you just wait in town until I’m done?” The idea of he and Thorn splitting up and her staying with Aoife made him uneasy.
“Here?” Aoife’s responding laugh lacked any sound of humor. “No, I’ve already spent too much time too close to the king. The sooner we’re out of these walls the better.”
“At least Thorn should stay with me.”
She shook her head. “Neither she nor I am safe here.”
“Why isn’t Thorn safe?”
“Have you seen her?” For the first time since he’d come out of the cubicle, Aoife really looked at him. “What’s wrong with you, boy? She’s the spitting image of her, everyone can see that. She has to be related somehow.” She turned to Thorn and gave her an assessing look. “So, girl, what is it? Are you a bastard of the old Black King? Or are you a cousin I’ve never heard of?”
Standing next to the fat pony, Thorn stared at her and didn’t respond.
“Well, speak up!”
“I—”
Ardan cut her off. “We don’t have time for this. I need to see the Oracle.”
“If you must, you must. Catch.” She tossed a bright silver coin at him and he reached out and caught it. One side had the image of a fleur-de-lis, Aoife’s own personal symbol. The other had an image of crossed swords. “Give this to the wench at the Oracle’s tower. He’ll see you immediately.”
Bespelled: A Fae Fantasy Romance (Fae Magic Book 5) Page 12