Ill Met by Moonlight

by Mercedes Lackey

  The dark Sidhe tore himself from the construct’s grip—not realizing that if it had not let him go its fingers would have sliced through his neck. As it was, he found Cannaid right alongside him, her pursed lips now spread to show teeth longer and more sharply pointed than his own. Without more ado, he passed through the red and gold corridor and mounted a flight of black marble steps.

  Rhoslyn followed, glancing once toward the end of the hallway where Pasgen’s room had been when he was managing Vidal’s Unseleighe Court. Rhoslyn sighed briefly. She had enjoyed those months; they had been, briefly, without fear.

  To the left was an oversized door, mercifully closed, that she knew led to Vidal’s apartment. She lifted a hand slightly. Cannaid closed in on the dark Sidhe, but he turned right, and Rhoslyn dropped her hand. The Sidhe whispered at a golden mesh set in the door. A moment later, the door swung open. Cannaid stepped in, stepped sideways, and flattened against the wall; Rhoslyn walked straight in. The door closed.

  Aurelia reclined on a Roman couch, one hand outstretched toward a small table on which stood a blue glass full of a cloudy liquid. She stared blankly for a moment at Rhoslyn and then said, “Why, Rhoslyn; what a surprise.”

  As she spoke, her green eyes brightened and she looked around the room, Rhoslyn thought for Pasgen. In general Aurelia looked better than she had for some time. The cream and peaches of her skin owed more to nature and less to art, and the pain lines around her eyes and mouth were less distinct. She now wore her hair down over her forehead in a long fringe to hide the still-visible scars the necklace of crosses had left, but the gold of her hair was more vibrant. Sure that Rhoslyn was alone, except for her construct, Aurelia laughed lightly.

  “Your construct doesn’t look very sturdy. I’ve heard you are a great builder and maker, but if that is an example of the best you can do … Or is this a case of the shoemaker’s children going barefoot?”

  “Cannaid serves my purposes very well,” Rhoslyn said, “and is capable of much more than is apparent.”

  “You name them?”

  “They are all different. Names make it easier for me to give orders to the one I want.”

  “I suppose,” Aurelia said, obviously losing interest. She lifted the glass from the table and took a sip. “I also suppose that you had a purpose for coming here?”

  Rhoslyn took no offense, though offense was intended. Taking affront would not serve her own purposes. “Yes, indeed, Princess. Do you remember when my brother and Prince Vidal argued about Lady Elizabeth?”

  “Yes,” Aurelia answered, too quickly.

  Rhoslyn thought it likely that the princess often did not remember things and hesitated to search her memory only to find nothing. She spoke quickly to divert Aurelia’s thought. She needed the princess in a good mood.

  “Pasgen told me that Prince Vidal wished to take Elizabeth’s fate into his own hands,” Rhoslyn continued, watching Aurelia for any signs of recognition. “Is that true?”

  Now Aurelia did remember; Rhoslyn saw the slight relaxation that betokened relief. “Vidal had good reason. Pasgen was told that Elizabeth must die and he failed more than once to do his duty.”

  Although Rhoslyn frowned slightly as though she disapproved of Pasgen’s failure, within her, her heart leapt with joy. Pasgen simply did not fail in what he attempted … unless he wished to fail.

  She shrugged. “Likely because of the need to keep all hint of magic secret. When Oberon hears that the child is dead, he will be furious, and he will winnow the Unseleighe kingdom for any sign, no matter how small or insignificant, that we were involved. His commands were clear. None of the king’s family were to be touched by any magic. Ever.”

  Aurelia bit her lip. Likely she had forgotten Oberon’s command. “Oberon does not rule the dark Sidhe,” she said pettishly.

  Rhoslyn shuddered deliberately. “Oberon rules Underhill. He does not usually interfere with the dark Sidhe, but if it was his will, he could unmake … everything. Oberon is not Sidhe. In the days of the ancients, he was more. He was worshiped as a god. It is not safe, it is not sane, to confront Oberon. He might remember what he was—and deal with the Unseleighe accordingly.”

  Aurelia frowned. “Are you saying you think Vidal is stupid enough to get caught openly attacking Elizabeth?”

  “I am saying that even if Vidal, even if no Sidhe, had any part in the death of one of Henry’s children, that Oberon would seek, and seek, and seek, until every creature’s mind was naked to him.” Rhoslyn stared into Aurelia’s eyes, trying to drive the very words into her brain. “The thought freezes me with horror, and I swear I have done nothing to which the High King could object. The fate of those who have transgressed—I do not wish to imagine it.”

  “Then what are we to do?” Aurelia replied, but although she tried to sound angry, there was a note of fear behind her words. “Wait until she rules and we starve?”

  “No.” Rhoslyn continued to stare. “We make sure she does not come to reign without harming a hair on her head or touching her with a spell.”

  Aurelia took another sip from the glass of cloudy liquid she had been holding, then put it back on the table. Slowly she shook her head. “You are trying to save the child. Vidal always said you were too fond of mortal children.”

  “I am fond of mortal children,” Rhoslyn admitted, “and I will be glad to see Elizabeth live a long and happy life, so long as she is not queen. But I am not doing this for Elizabeth. I am more fond of my brother. I am quite certain that Prince Vidal … whatever he does, he will do it disguised as Pasgen.”

  Aurelia sniffed. “No. Do not be ridiculous.”

  Rhoslyn disregarded the protest and went on, “But I will not permit that to happen. I will tell you now that I have laid an information … more than one, actually … with different beings that have easy access to the Seleighe domain. That information will be delivered to King Oberon if blame falls on my brother.”

  The Unseleighe sat straight up, her eyes blazing with anger. “Stupid bitch!”

  Aurelia lifted a hand, but spells did not come as easily to her as they once had and Cannaid had more than enough time to leap away from the wall and place itself before Rhoslyn. Aurelia gestured and spoke and almost instantly shrieked in pain as her spell bounced off the construct and backlashed at her. She seized the glass from the table in both shaking hands and drank until it was empty.

  Cannaid stood ready to defend or attack, but Aurelia did not attempt another spell. Her face was briefly distorted, but with pain, not rage, and very soon the expression smoothed. After another moment her eyes studied Cannaid and Rhoslyn behind her with a vague puzzlement that slowly grew into recognition. Rhoslyn touched Cannaid’s arm and she stepped aside. Aurelia frowned but real anger was absent.

  “Please, Princess,” Rhoslyn said in a placatory voice. “I am sure that I can arrange that Elizabeth so besmirch her reputation that her father will strike her out of the succession. That will serve our purpose just as well as her death. No magic at all will be involved, and Oberon will not care a bit.”

  Aurelia glared at her suspiciously. “How will you do that? And how long will it take?”

  “It will not be so quick as killing—it may take even a few mortal years, but what is that to us? King Henry is still alive and like to live a while. Prince Edward seems strong. He will inherit from his father, and his reign will suit the Unseleighe well enough. And if Edward should die … well, so much the better. Then Mary will be queen, which is what we want most. And in Mary’s reign, even if I have not managed to have Elizabeth removed from the succession … the girl will die. At Mary’s hand, not ours. So we will have lost nothing.”

  “How can you be so sure that Mary will wish to be rid of Elizabeth?” Aurelia’s voice was no longer vague; she sounded intrigued.

  “Because as Rosamund Scot, I am one of Lady Mary’s dearest friends. I will make sure that Mary comes to believe Elizabeth is a heretic of the blackest sort, the spawn of Satan, the very anti-Chri
st—and to Mary, her religion is everything. She is much older than Elizabeth and not in perfect health. For fear that Elizabeth will follow her and bring in the new religion, Mary will find some reason to have her executed.”

  For a long moment Aurelia looked at her almost without expression. Then she blinked and said, “So what has all this to do with me?”

  “You are the only one who has sufficient influence on Prince Vidal to keep him from attacking Elizabeth and bringing Oberon’s wrath upon us. If you will divert Prince Vidal and give me time, I will make Lady Mary into Elizabeth’s most mortal and deadliest enemy.”

  “Vidal is not the most patient of beings,” Aurelia said, for the first time, with a note of doubt in her voice.

  Rhoslyn sighed. “I will do what I can so that he will know an effort is being made. I will place such temptation in Elizabeth’s way that she cannot resist. Her father will say she is her mother’s daughter, call her whore, and strike her name from those who may inherit the throne.” Her lips twisted a little in distaste. “Once she becomes old enough to be a woman, it will take very little to make her blood run hot. The young of the mortal kind see only the glitter of the temptation, and do not think far enough ahead to see the consequences—and this one has inherited hot blood from her dam and her sire. Be she never so cautious, when I am done dangling the bait before her, she will take it, and never feel the hook.”

  Chapter 16

  Although Prince Vidal continued indifferent to Lady Elizabeth’s existence over the next few weeks and thus no intervention by Aurelia was required, Rhoslyn’s visit returned with increasing frequency to Aurelia’s mind. Aurelia did not like Rhoslyn. She would have preferred to refuse outright and haughtily anything Rhoslyn asked, but what Rhoslyn had said about Oberon searching through the minds of all Underhill if evil befell the king’s daughter terrified her.

  Once, while she was healing from whatever had happened to her while Vidal was trying to abduct Elizabeth, Oberon’s Thought had passed through the Unseleighe domain. He had not been seeking Aurelia; nonetheless the pain roused by the touch had been excruciating. She had screamed for days, and two healers had died trying to reduce her agony.

  Worse yet, Rhoslyn said she had laid an information about attempts made on Elizabeth. Doubtless she had told all sorts of lies, implicating Aurelia and Vidal when it was really Pasgen who had tried to harm the girl. Aurelia frowned. She did not like Rhoslyn, but she did like Pasgen.

  Pasgen had brought her Albertus, the mortal physician who had nearly cured her pain. The thought made her reach out and sip from the ever-present glass that Albertus had left for her. She needed the remedy much less frequently now and because she was able to think without feeling as if burning knives were lancing through her head, her mind was much clearer.

  No, she did not mind Rhoslyn trying to divert blame from Pasgen. She did not want Pasgen blamed for the harm done to Elizabeth. And what Rhoslyn had said was true. Vidal hated Pasgen and would do his best to make the blame for whatever he did amiss in the mortal world fall upon Pasgen. This was unacceptable.

  Aurelia sipped from the glass again, raising her other hand to her temple where a dull knife was pressing, threatening to pierce her skull. Albertus had warned her that shock, irritation, or worry would bring the pain back. Her discomfort meant she did not want Pasgen obliterated by Oberon. Had he not brought her Albertus and asked nothing in return? Aurelia put down the glass and stared speculatively into space. Was that a hint of favor that she had been too pain-ridden, too muddled in her mind, to notice?

  She sat up a bit straighter and touched her hair. Thinking about pleasant things diminished her pain and Pasgen was pleasant to think about. Dimly she recalled Vidal raving on about what Pasgen had done while Vidal himself was incapacitated—taking over control of the Unseleighe Court that Vidal had so painstakingly assembled, wiping out troublemakers, bringing the dark Sidhe under control. So … now she remembered … Pasgen had ruled in Vidal’s stead.

  Aurelia knew that even when she was completely well she would not be able to rule an Unseleighe Court the size of this one alone. She needed a male to bluster and threaten, to lead the hunts, occasionally to kill with his own hands or sword. Vidal served that purpose very well, but … How would it be to replace Vidal with Pasgen?

  Nibbling gently on a fingernail, Aurelia considered the idea. She suspected that over the time of Vidal’s sickness Pasgen had become stronger in magic, possibly as strong or stronger than Vidal. Thinking it over she became more and more sure that was true, although the young Sidhe did his best to hide it.

  Why hide strength? Because he was young and unsure his power could overmatch Vidal? Perhaps. More likely he was hiding his true ability because he was planning to kill Vidal and take over the domain, the court, and all the power that Vidal had amassed.

  Then why had Pasgen yielded the rule of the court without a fight when Vidal returned? Of course, because while Vidal was healing, Pasgen could not reach him. Also because Vidal must die in the full sight of the court; otherwise there would always be some who hoped for Vidal’s return and who would make trouble in his name. So, that was clever. Pasgen would make Vidal think he was weak and afraid. Vidal, prone to overconfidence and grandiose notions about his own abilities, would be off guard. And one day Pasgen would blast him and seize the court again.

  Aurelia realized her heart was pounding, but her head did not hurt at all. She giggled. So the thought of Vidal being blasted dead was not at all shocking or unpleasant. Still, she would need to get her talons firmly fixed into Pasgen before he moved against Vidal.

  Consulting her shaky memory produced a surprisingly clear answer. Even Vidal could not discover where Pasgen’s domain was. Rhoslyn was the only path to Pasgen. Aurelia sighed. She did not like Rhoslyn. She thought it was Rhoslyn, in her weakness and whimsy, who held Pasgen back from the delights of games of torture and other similar pleasures.

  Now she remembered why Vidal had been welcomed back so readily. The dark Sidhe had complained that Pasgen, being overfearful of Oberon, had made the Unseleighe Court dull as ditch-water and sour with rules. No fun and games with mortals or the weaker creatures.

  Only because he was so young, Aurelia thought, smiling at the thought—

  But the smile faded at the thought that inevitably followed.

  —and too much under the hand of his mother and sister. Her eyes narrowed. Maybe that was not all bad; if necessary she could find ways to be rid of the mother and sister, and Pasgen was accustomed to female domination. She could simply substitute herself for them.

  As for his lack of appreciation of Unseleighe pastimes, Pasgen would learn under her tutelage … if she began to find Vidal tiresome. Even if she did not, it would be wise to gain a hold on Pasgen, and for that she needed Rhoslyn. Aurelia sighed. Always, it came back to Rhoslyn. So, for now, she would support Rhoslyn’s plan for dealing with Elizabeth.

  Until now she had not needed to say anything to Vidal about Elizabeth because he had been fully absorbed in other matters. The war with the Scots—the pain and death of the soldiers and the misery of the common people overrun by both armies—had brought power in plenty to the Unseleighe. Unfortunately, that period of plenty might be coming to an end.

  Had Vidal not begun to complain the last time she saw him that King Henry had called a truce to arrange for the marriage of the infant Scottish princess and his son? If the fighting stopped, their source of power would dry up, and doubtless Vidal would again begin to worry about the possibility of Elizabeth coming to rule.

  Yet what Rhoslyn had said about there being plenty of time to deal with Elizabeth was true. The future the FarSeers envisioned for her could not be realized until after her father died, her brother died, and her sister Mary died. It was far more likely that Elizabeth would die than all of those who preceded her in the succession.

  Thus it would be foolish to chance Oberon’s rage. Let Rhoslyn work at disgracing Elizabeth in her father’s eyes. If Henry was sufficie
ntly disgusted with his daughter, it would become safe to deal with her more openly. In fact, if Henry—or Edward or Mary—disowned and disinherited her, then technically Elizabeth would no longer be a part of the family, and thus, no longer under Oberon’s protection.

  Another memory returned to Aurelia. Elizabeth’s brilliant mind could have been an asset to the dark Sidhe. Well, it was too late now to raise the child to love the Unseleighe way. However, if she could be taken and the blame laid elsewhere, she could still be useful. Of course, now Elizabeth would have to be broken by fear and pain. Aurelia drew a deep breath and her eyes brightened as she contemplated the pleasure to be had in breaking the girl and the rich harvest of power that would come from her agony and terror.

  With a sigh, Aurelia recalled herself from the pleasant dream and considered the problem of abducting Elizabeth. And the moment she did so, sudden pain lanced through the dark Sidhe’s head.

  The scars on her forehead burned!

  The maid!

  Aurelia snatched at the glass of potion, gulped half of it down, and closed her eyes.

  The worst of the pain receded, but the memory of the maid did not fade. Aurelia ignored the band of pain, like a vise around her head, and ground her teeth. It would be impossible to lay hands on Elizabeth while that maid was with her. The maid could sense Sidhe and the creatures the Sidhe sent into the mortal world … and she was close enough to Elizabeth that she could not simply be felled by magic.

  But what if the maid’s fate came from mortal hands? The band of the vise began to loosen.

  Attack by a mortal could be arranged. A slow smile drew Aurelia’s lips away from her rather too pointed teeth. Being rid of the maid did not need to wait for Elizabeth’s disgrace. The maid could be dealt with at any time and by any mortal means. Oberon was not going to care if grievous injury—even fatal injury—befell a common maid … so long as the injury did not appear to be magical.