by Sarina Dorie
“Your Majesty,” Errol said. “Will you give me leave to take care of this problem for you?”
King Viridios looked down at Errol as if just noticing him there before the dais, dripping wet and waiting. “Indeed. The next attack I hear about upon our kingdom, I will take action.”
Errol gave a curt bow and stalked out, feeling no satisfaction. The king’s choice of words left his promise open for wiggle room. Errol couldn’t tell whether the king had done this on purpose or it was an accident. The king only had to do something if he heard about an attack.
It was up to Errol to ensure his king heard about the attacks.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The Cost of Heroic Deeds
The following day, Errol learned the Last Supper, Captain Gains’ ship, had crashed two days before. Rumor was that the steam bladder had burst, sending them crashing into a rocky coastline. The news struck Errol like a blow.
A few days later, Prince Elric-Atherius was the one who brought Errol news about the Vitruvio. In the privacy of Errol’s office, Elric-Atherius read a letter he had found on his father’s desk. The airship had gotten caught in a storm, which had sent their ship into the village below. The fact that the only ship that had survived was the one where Beorhtsige’s friend—or accomplice—served was highly suspicious.
A rising tide of horror threatened to suffocate Errol. He struggled to remember to breathe. Errol knew these weren’t accidents, but he couldn’t prove it. Surely the king had to suspect it was well.
Prince Elric-Atherius sat staring at the letter, tears in his eyes.
“What village?” Errol asked, a chill seeping under his jacket and into his bones.
Prince Elric-Atherius swallowed. “Alfheim.”
Errol forced his mouth to work. “Survivors?”
“Few.”
Errol fought the urge to wrap his arms around himself. They had brought this upon all those innocent people. He had stuck his nose where it hadn’t belonged and exposed some conspiracy he still couldn’t understand. Now countless citizens were dead. He had tried to do good, and it had blown up in his face.
“I don’t think it’s safe for me to meet my guests on outings anymore.” Prince Elric-Atherius sighed despondently. “I don’t want them to get caught up in this.”
“For once, would you think about something more than your blasted mistress?” Errol’s voice rose. He didn’t care if he was speaking to a prince as he took out his rage on the only person he could. “Hundreds of people are dead. All those people on each airship. Those villagers. Those families. How many more in Caern might also have had ‘accidents’ because of our investigations? They are all dead because we went to question them, and they told us about a conspiracy someone doesn’t want the king to know about.”
“You say it as if you think I don’t care about those people!” The prince leaned toward Errol, fury in his eyes. “It wasn’t my idea to go asking questions about something I had no business asking about. That was your brilliant idea. You wanted to learn the truth. Now you have. And it isn’t just strangers whose lives you’ve endangered but the people I love and care about as well.” He swiped at the tears spilling from his eyes. “Not that you would understand about such things.”
“Understand what things?” Errol growled.
“Being married to your career, I suspect you cannot fathom what it’s like to have a family. To love them so much it’s all you think about.” The prince crossed his arms, his posture rigid with anger. “All you care about is supposed justice. But it isn’t justice. It’s revenge. Don’t pretend it’s something honorable or better than it is.”
Errol barely managed to control his rising temper. “Get out of my office.” If he had bees and wind to throw around like the king, he would have used them.
Prince Elric-Atherius flicked his hair over his shoulder and marched out. Errol slammed the door behind the prince. He despised the royal family. He couldn’t stand Prince Elric-Atherius. What did that spoiled prince know about Errol and his intentions? Errol’s hand closed around one of his ledgers. He threw it against the wall.
When Errol had regained his calm, he considered how rudely he had behaved. Prince Elric-Atherius could have Errol fired for that. Demoted. Beheaded. Royalty could do exactly as they pleased with those under them.
Everything Errol had worked for in his career might have been lost in one moment of temper.
More importantly, the dawning realization crept over him that the prince was correct. Errol had made a horrible mistake. He was the one who had insisted on this mission, rationalizing it was to save lives. Yet his every move had been motivated out of revenge, to hurt those who had hurt him. In the process of achieving this goal, Errol had risked the prince’s life, his mistress’s, their child’s, and so many others’.
He was a monster, whether he wanted to be or not.
And the Silver Court, with all their conspirators, had been present when Errol had presented his findings to the king. They all knew what Errol had uncovered.
For all Errol knew, he would be their next target, and he might have brought the prince down with him.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
A Bargain with a Devil
Errol waited for shadow goblins to suffocate him in the middle of the night, for someone to push him down the stairs in an unfortunate accident, or for General Hereweald to give him a suicide mission like “go clean out the Jabberwock cage.”
As the hours passed into days and no attack came, Errol couldn’t shake the feeling he was being watched. He wanted to go visit the people he had interviewed in Caern, but he feared that would draw more attention to them, and they might suffer from mysterious accidents as well. It was difficult to say who took more lives in their kingdom, the Raven Court or the Silver Court.
Any further investigating he performed in order to ensure King Viridios heard about attacks by the Raven Court meant those Errol interviewed would suffer. He couldn’t do that to them. He couldn’t put that weight on his conscience. Perhaps Prince Elric-Atherius was correct that Errol’s mission wasn’t honorable. He had been selfish in his pursuit of truth, not considering how it would affect others. He needed to rethink his motivations—and methods.
Life went on, and Errol tried to ignore his soul’s ache for revenge. He needed to find ways to focus on justice instead of vengeance.
The problem was Errol didn’t think he knew the difference between the two.
* * *
The weather in Caern was temperate, closer to an eternal spring compared to the unnatural winter of the Raven Court’s territories. The seasons in the Silver Court’s kingdom were mild, whether in forested hills, flat stretches of farmland, or villages. Though they still celebrated Yule, it rarely snowed during the holiday.
Errol hadn’t realized Yule had snuck up on him until one of his officers stuck a sprig of holly in his buttonhole and another officer mentioned mistletoe. And then, of course, came the flood of requests to be granted the day off on Yule. Errol had been so focused on court intrigue and conspiracies, that he had forgotten about the holiday.
His thoughts skated back to the prince’s words, that all Errol cared about was revenge. Didn’t the prince see? He wanted something more than that. He didn’t want to inflict harm or start a war. Errol wanted to do something good for the world.
Unfortunately, the only people Errol could do something good for were those serving under him. He tried to equally distribute shifts and break them up so no one worked a full shift on the holiday. He assigned himself patrol duties on Yule Eve to set a good example. Still, it didn’t feel as if he’d done enough.
He was hardly saving the world from the evils of the Raven Court—or his own court—by being a fair and just officer.
Errol wanted to help those hurt by the Raven Court. The only person he knew whom he could do anything for was Ivy.
He considered whether it would be appropriate to give Ivy a gift. The least he cou
ld do was purchase more sewing supplies for her since he didn’t want her to use up all her own on his behalf.
She would be all alone during a holiday that many people spent time with their families. Errol didn’t have a family anymore either. He could take her to the Yule Eve cèilidh, like he once had done with his sister, but he didn’t think she would like it.
His heart played a sad note thinking of Alma and their happier days together. In a different world, Alma could have been alive right now and enjoying Yule with her friends, and Ivy would have been a slave still in the Raven Court. Neither possibility seemed any more fair than the other.
He went back and forth, trying to decide whether it was crossing the bounds of their relationship, whether he would be pushing her into something that she wouldn’t be able to refuse due to an inequity of power. He didn’t want her to feel obligated to him in the same way he was with the royal family.
On the morning of Yule Eve, Errol assigned himself a late shift patrolling. He decided he would not go to the cèilidh, but he would give Ivy the gift he’d purchased for her.
That same morning, he was surprised Prince Elric-Atherius requested him for guard duty as he visited with a human guest in his parlor. After their previous words, it seemed as if the prince would have preferred someone else he was more fond of. Then again, perhaps this was his way of trying to vex Errol and get under his skin by making him work on a day many soldiers requested off.
The guest entertained the prince as much as the prince entertained him. The piano music the Morty played was full of anguish and regret, mirroring the battle in Errol’s own soul.
The music spoke of sorrow and revenge with lighter notes of smaller worries mixed in. Something about the bittersweet melody reminded Errol of his last conversation with Prince Elric-Atherius. He regretted losing his temper. The prince hadn’t retaliated, nor had he spoken to him since then, yet he had requested Errol once again for guard duty. Errol supposed that was his punishment for being good at his job.
As the musician lost himself in the rapture of his artistry, the prince inhaled his creativity and passion. Prince Elric-Atherius was skilled enough that the Morty had no idea what he was doing. Sparks of energy rose from the musician and gravitated toward the prince before being absorbed by him. He didn’t take too much like others of his family might have, harming the musician in the process.
Errol melted into complacency, the piano notes a caress against his ears. If he had accepted King Viridios’ invitation to become part of his household and be given a title, Errol would have been permitted to join in. But he wasn’t royalty, he reminded himself.
After a half hour, Prince Elric-Atherius wandered over to where Errol stood, glamoured invisible. A cloud of creativity followed the prince.
“Pardon me, Captain. Is everything all right?” Prince Elric-Atherius asked.
Errol started at the prince addressing him. Usually the prince didn’t even know he was there. Errol unglamoured himself. “Yes, Your Highness. Why do you ask?”
“I believe you’re preoccupied.” The prince raised a hand, and the sound of music softened, making it easier to hear his words.
The air on the other side of the prince rippled with a sound-barrier enchantment.
“What makes you say that?” Errol looked down at his uniform to make sure he hadn’t misbuttoned his coat or some other irregularity of uniform that he had missed.
Prince Elric-Atherius lowered his voice to a confidential tone. “You have been consuming creativity for over half an hour.”
Errol’s eyes went wide with shock. Now that he wasn’t as absorbed in the music, he noticed the nimbus of energy surrounding both of them.
Creativity was meant for muses—royalty—not commoners like him. Prince Elric-Atherius’ chastisement was mild for the offense Errol had committed. He should have guarded himself more carefully. He glanced at the musician playing with passion.
“Did I . . . hurt him?” Errol would never forgive himself if he drove this human mad. He glanced at Paega, the other officer. He wasn’t looking at Errol.
It still haunted Errol when he thought about what he’d done to the Witchkin prostitute after she’d put on a theatrical performance for him. He couldn’t prove he had drained her and killed her, but most likely he had.
Prince Elric-Atherius waved Errol off. “My guest is fine. I kept careful watch of you both. Though I did think you were going to catch yourself and figure it out on your own, and you didn’t.” He wagged a finger at Errol with mocking sternness. “You must have a care to be more aware of what you do.”
“I apologize, Your Highness. I should not have—I will not let it happen again.” Errol waited for the reprimand to come. Not only was he shirking his duties if he was imbibing the energies of a human artist rather than being vigilant and aware of potential danger—but he was stealing from his superiors.
Prince Elric-Atherius’ tone became more serious. “You need music.”
“It isn’t permitted.” That’s all there was to it.
“No, you simply can’t get caught using it.” The prince studied him. “Is there somewhere you can go when you finish with your shift? Somewhere with music and dancing?”
Errol eyed the prince skeptically, uncertain whether this was a trap. “I would rather not.”
The prince crossed his arms. “You’re just being stubborn. Isn’t there a tavern or some place you can go where you’re less likely to risk exposing your muse magic than when you’re on duty with my family?”
That was the important detail. As much as Errol didn’t want to be a muse who took from others, he couldn’t risk being caught like this again. He had made enemies in the Silver Court who would use his weakness against him—most likely accusing him of acting like a rogue Fae who took from Morties. He could be arrested and tried for that.
Errol was lucky Prince Elric-Atherius had warned him. Princes and princesses could be flighty and mercurial. Perhaps he wasn’t cross with Errol anymore.
Errol kept his voice low so that Lieutenant Paega across the room wouldn’t hear. “There’s a cèilidh tonight. I could go for part of the evening.” The part when he wasn’t working.
“Good. It’s important you don’t suppress your cravings.” Prince Elric-Atherius leaned in closer. “And equally important for you to strengthen your magic as much as you can in case anyone should try to attack you or you find yourself in unexpected circumstances.”
Was that a warning or paranoia?
Princess Steorra had taught Errol how to use his powers to draw in the energy of artists without hurting them. She’d also taught Errol that he could get by without using his magic at all. He simply had to avoid excessive indulgences—which he did as much as he could. Attending the king’s salons of artists was one of his duties, and it still fell on him to relieve guards and monitor the soldiers as much as it was to guard the nobles who were lost in the throes of muse magic.
And debauchery. They always seemed to get caught up in that.
Errol had grown stronger since his early days of being exposed to so much artistry. He had increased his tolerance. He could resist more easily. When he did need to supply himself, he could do so in small amounts and without anyone noticing.
Or so he had thought.
He didn’t need to go to the cèilidh. It was safer for others if he didn’t.
Prince Elric-Atherius straightened. “I can see the lie coming, and you haven’t even spoken. Don’t tell me you intend to go when you, in fact, are going to stay home. I insist you attend the cèilidh so you can fuel yourself properly. It can be dangerous for others when there’s a hungry muse running about.”
Errol sighed in exasperation. He was not a hungry muse without self-control. And yet, he had lost control once.
He felt his resistance crumbling, but he held fast to his honor. “Very well. I won’t lie. The truth is, I would rather not.”
“I insist. I order you to go.” He lif
ted his chin, looking regal and princely.
Errol grimaced. Surely the prince had to be jesting.
“As prince of this court, I command you to go to a party with dancing and music. I will ask for a full report upon the morrow. If you fail to follow my command, I shall think of some horrible punishment for you.” Prince Elric-Atherius grinned. “You must remember, as a Fae of the Silver Court, I excel at thinking up ways to torture people.”
Dread settled over Errol like a shroud. He doubted the prince would truly torment him, but he had been given an order. He might be able to push his luck and claim he hadn’t thought it was a real order.
“Give me your word,” Prince Elric-Atherius said. “I want to hear you say you will go to the party.”
Errol crossed his arms.
Prince Elric-Atherius waved a hand at the sound-barrier enchantment. It eased away.
“Who else is in the room?” Prince Elric-Atherius snapped his fingers at the other wall.
Paega dropped his invisibility. “Your Highness, is everything all right?”
“No, it is not.” Prince Elric-Atherius lifted his nose, looking as haughty as the rest of the Silver Court.
Errol stiffened, uncertain what an unpredictable prince might do or say. For all Errol knew, this might be the prince’s devious way of getting back at him for their previous argument. He was more anxious now than he had been after their last meeting.
“Captain Errol is being unreasonable,” Prince Elric-Atherius said. “I have given him a command, and he has refused.”
“I didn’t refuse. I just didn’t answer,” Errol said.
The prince was fighting dirty. From the way Prince Elric-Atherius grinned, Errol took it he knew it. Paega looked from Errol to the prince uncertainly.
“You will agree to go to this party you mentioned and have some fun. It is an order.” Prince Elric-Atherius waved a hand at Paega. “If you do not, this soldier will report you for insurrection.”
Errol doubted refusing to go to a party was insurrection, but he suspected this wasn’t a battle worth fighting. Despite his wariness, he resigned himself to follow the prince’s instructions. “I will go to the cèilidh.”