by Jayne Faith
“What’s got everyone running around like scared mice?” I asked.
She shook her head. “No one in the lower ranks knows the details. Something to do with the Duergar and a new petition to the High Court.”
“Petitions are usually public, aren’t they?”
“Yeah, but this one is sealed.”
My stomach dropped a couple of inches at that news.
“What are the possible sealed-petition scenarios?” I asked.
“It could be any number of things,” she said. “Sometimes the information is sensitive and has to be discussed behind closed doors first so as not to put someone in danger or tip someone off. It might not be the Duergar who requested the seal. The High Court can seal a petition at its discretion. Maybe they need to deliberate on it and don’t want to cause a stir in the meantime.”
It was too late for that. Judging by the faces and energy around me, things had already been stirred.
“It could also be that a challenge was issued,” Emmaline continued.
“Challenge? Like the old duels?”
Her brow knitted together. “Yeah. This is a conflict between a Seelie order and an Unseelie kingdom. In the Old World, Seelie-Unseelie disagreements were often settled with a fight between champions.”
“Surely they wouldn’t resort to something so arcane.”
She lifted a shoulder and let it drop. “No idea.”
We were in one of the corridors that housed offices and rooms for official business. She gestured to an open doorway up ahead where two pages came hurrying out and then went in different directions.
“Maxen’s in there,” she said. “While you’re speaking with him, I’ll hunt down a change of clothes for you.”
She angled off down the hallway before I had a chance to respond.
I stepped into the room she’d indicated, expecting to find Maxen with his usual crowd of officials. Instead, it was just him with one assistant. As soon as he saw me, he dismissed the page and asked her to close the door as she left.
Weariness fought with apprehension, dragging at my muscles but at the same time infusing me with jittery adrenaline. Reining in the nervous energy, I lifted my scabbard over my head and set it down on the conference table that stood between us and rolled my stiff shoulders.
“What’s going on, Maxen?” I asked quietly.
His sapphire eyes were unblinking and red-rimmed with fatigue.
“Periclase is livid about Nicole,” he said. His chest rose as he drew a deep breath. “Taking her seems to have become the spark to the dry tinder of unrest between the Stone Order and the Duergar kingdom.”
I folded my arms. “Do you know what’s in the latest petition?”
He nodded. “They’re asking for you.”
“What do you mean?”
“Periclase is demanding you be turned over to the Duergar for whatever punishment they deem fit.”
I scoffed. “They can’t do that! Nicole is part New Gargoyle. She has just as much a right to be here as there, if she even is Periclase’s daughter at all.”
“So far, we can’t prove she’s New Garg. But as Periclase’s petition points out, she does have clear Duergar features, even if they’re not ones that make it obvious she’s his blood.”
I hadn’t been looking for Duergar features in her face. She certainly wasn’t built like them. But a case could probably be made for what Periclase claimed.
“So now what?”
“We have a chance to counter the petition,” he said.
“Okay, so do it. Put in a counter-filing that says they’re full of shit.”
He walked around the table to stand in front of me, leaning one hip against the edge and crossing his arms in a partial imitation of my posture.
“Because their petition includes the claim that Nicole is Duergar royalty, this is very grave,” he said, as if he hadn’t heard my suggestion. “They’re saying we kidnapped a Duergar princess.”
“Um, again, he has no proof that Nicole is his daughter,” I said.
“They want to execute you. That’s the punishment they’ve put forth.”
“What?” I barked the word so harshly my voice cracked.
He held up a hand. “It’s very unlikely the High Court would see that as just. But that’s Periclase’s game, here. He’s requesting a punishment too severe for the crime, putting us in a position of countering with something lesser, but that doesn’t go too easy. He’s trying to back us into a corner so he gets you either way.”
I felt queasy. “You think he actually wants me dead?”
Maxen’s face screwed up, and then he shook his head. “I don’t think so. But he’s definitely calling you out. And he’s not going to let you get off easily.”
I pushed my fingers into my hair, suddenly remembering what Emmaline had mentioned. “What about a challenge of champions? Me against their champion?”
His eyes went huge. “Petra, a challenge of champions is a battle to the death. Besides, you aren’t the official champion of the Stone Order.”
“Who is? Do we even have one?”
“It’s Oliver.”
Duh, of course. “Oh, yeah. I knew that.”
“But that’s beside the point,” Maxen said. “We couldn’t put you in that kind of position.”
“Why not?” I asked. “Periclase is demanding my head, even if he doesn’t truly want it, and he wants me to answer for my supposed transgression.”
Maxen just looked at me, his lips pressed into a tight white line.
I gave a little shrug. “I can take whoever Periclase puts up against me. Duergar are tough, but New Gargs are better swordsmen. Hell, you could probably kick their champion’s ass, and you’re out of practice.”
A ghost of a smile passed over his face.
“Besides, Oberon can step in, end the duel, and declare a winner before anyone dies,” I said, starting to dredge up bits of knowledge from my long-ago history lessons. “Isn’t that what happened with the last dozen-odd challenges?”
“It is,” Maxen conceded. “But that doesn’t mean he’d do it this time.”
“Doesn’t matter, then. I’ll just kill my opponent.”
His eyes dropped to the floor before raising to meet mine. “I don’t like that you even suggested this,” he said, his voice soft.
“Why?”
“Because it might actually be the best counter-petition, and it could end in you losing your life.”
“But it won’t,” I said. “How long can you stall before filing the counter?”
“We have twenty-four hours to answer.”
“Can you put a stipulation in there that if we win the challenge they have to drop their other appeal about trying to absorb the Stone Order into their kingdom?”
His brows lifted. “I’ll have to look into it, but that’s a great strategy. We might just make a politician out of you yet.”
I snorted. “Oh, hell no. Don’t get greedy, Maxen. Okay. Here’s what we do. Find every way possible to delay the process. I’ll use the time to train here at the fortress, make sure I’m totally brushed up on all my moves, and do everything available to make sure my stone armor is as strong as possible. Then we do the challenge, win it, and get the Duergar assholes off our backs.”
“I’ll talk to Marisol,” he said. “But understand that she might not go for it, and the final decision is hers.”
“Hey, if she has a better idea, I’m all ears,” I said, spreading my arms wide.
“I’m going to find her now,” he said, already heading for the door. Before opening it, he paused and turned. “Petra . . .”
The look he gave me was so raw, my breath stilled. I saw many things in his eyes—admiration, gratitude, a little fear, and that small spark that had always burned, but that I’d always brushed away.
I waved him off. “Yeah, yeah, I know.”
He gave me a slight smile and left. A moment later, Emmaline entered.
She stopped short when she saw my
face. “Are you okay?”
I slowly filled my lungs and gave her a nod. “Yeah, just fine.”
And I realized with a calm sense of knowing that it was true. I wanted to face the Duergar champion. I wanted the chance to get Periclase off my back and show him he couldn’t push us around anymore. Us. Maybe my connection to my people ran stronger than I’d thought.
“New clothes are in your quarters,” she said. “I ordered food, too.”
When I arrived in my apartment, it was empty, but there were signs of Nicole—sweatshirt thrown over the back of the sofa, half a glass of water on the counter, and an extra toothbrush next to the bathroom sink. I quickly showered and then put on the clothes Emmaline had dug up, which were admirably similar to the outfit I’d shed. She had a good sense for details.
The food she’d ordered had just arrived, and I was about to dig into a bowl of pasta when there was a knock at the door.
I opened it, and Oliver stormed in, barging past me before whirling around. My eyes popped wide. I’d never seen him look so worked up.
He flipped his hand and glanced at the door, indicating I should close it. Swallowing hard, I turned to my father.
Chapter 24
“WHAT DID YOU do?” Oliver thundered at me.
I pulled my head back and resisted the temptation to creep backward just to open up more space between us. He had a long reach, and he looked mad enough to grab me and turn me over his knee like I was seven years old and I’d been caught misbehaving at school.
“Um, could you give me some context to your outrage?” I asked, but I had a pretty good idea why he was so agitated.
He closed his eyes and pressed his thumb and forefinger over them. “Please tell me you did not volunteer to fight as the Stone Order champion against the Duergar?”
I pulled my lips in and bit down on them.
After a moment of silence, he dropped his hand and squinted at me. “Aren’t you going to say anything?”
“You asked me not to tell you I volunteered to fight as the Stone Order champion. But I can’t lie.”
He gave me a hard, withering look.
“Don’t act like a smart-ass teenager, Petra.” He started pacing the tiny living room-slash-kitchen area. “How could you do this?”
I lifted my palms. “It seems like a good solution.”
He kept up his restless movements for a couple seconds longer and then seemed to realize how unsatisfying it was to pace in such a small space.
He halted and huffed out a loud sigh. “So, it really was your idea,” he said flatly.
I nodded. “Maxen didn’t like it at first either. He doesn’t want me to do it. But he sees that it’s a good response to the matter. I’m not going to die, Oliver. I know I’m twice any swordsman Periclase will send as champion. They don’t train the way we do. And I’ve got full stone armor.”
“I just wish you would have talked to me first.”
I raised a hand and let it drop. “I should have. But the end result would have been the same because I wouldn’t have let you talk me out of it.” We watched each other for a couple of breaths. “Does this mean Marisol has approved my suggestion?”
He pulled his mouth into a grim semblance of a smile. “I demanded to speak with you before she files.”
“You’re not going to change my mind,” I said quietly.
“I know.” He tipped his gaze upward, and his expression became pained. “But this is my fault, and I don’t want you to pay for my decisions.”
“Your fault because you sent me after Nicole?”
He nodded. He actually looked rather miserable. I averted my eyes and walked over to where my pasta was still steaming on the counter.
“I didn’t know he would go after you,” he said.
“Of course you didn’t. You have no blame for that.” I twirled my fork in the spaghetti. “And frankly, I didn’t exactly make things better for myself with my little confrontation with his bastard daughter at the reception for the dignitaries. Oh, and when I knocked her out, brought her here, and put her in jail. That probably didn’t help either.”
I stuffed a forkful of pasta in my mouth, watching Oliver as I chewed and using the food as an excuse to stop speaking.
“You do have a way of pissing off authority figures,” he said.
Moving a bit stiffly, he went to the sofa and sat down, propping his elbows on his knees and peering up at me from under his heavy brows. He still looked defeated and unhappy, but I could handle that. The pain in his eyes a moment ago had jabbed a little too deeply into my chest.
I swallowed my spaghetti. “I’m not going to die,” I said again.
“You sure as hell better not.” He straightened. “I’ll help with your training.”
I nodded. “Good.” I forked up another bunch of pasta.
The phone on the wall rang, and every muscle in my body twanged in surprise. I was unused to the sound of old-fashioned wired phones. I got up and caught it on the third ring.
“Hello, this is Petra.”
“I’m calling from the office of the Lady of the Order,” an official-sounding voice said. “Is Oliver Maguire there?”
“Yep.” I held the phone out to my father.
He rose and took it. “Oliver speaking. Yes, I’ve spoken to her. Yes.” His face turned grim, and his eyes slid to me and then away.
He listened for another few seconds and gave some one-word responses before hanging up.
“That was Marisol,” he said. “To make things official, she needs to knight you as the champion of the Stone Order.”
I stopped chewing. “Oh. Right.” I tossed him a wry look. “You pissed I’m stealing your title?”
He snorted and almost smiled.
“It needs to be done now, before she files the counter-petition.”
“I’m ready.” I wiped my mouth with a napkin and closed the spaghetti container. “Let’s do it.”
Oliver didn’t say a word to me on the way to Marisol’s office, but I had the sense it was important to him to escort me to this meeting. I was grateful he was there, though I knew there was very little he could do, even in the training yard, to help me prepare.
When we arrived, there was a small group waiting for us. Marisol and Maxen, of course. Marisol’s personal bodyguard Jaquard, who’d trained me in sword fighting when I was a teenager. A few Order officials.
“Let’s get started,” Marisol said, her voice carrying over the few quiet conversations in progress.
She lifted her hand at me, indicating I should approach. The others automatically backed off, giving us some space.
“I know I don’t need to ask if you’re sure,” she said, her voice low and her words meant for me alone. “You’re a decisive woman, and clearly a fearless one. But know I would not have made this decision if I didn’t have total confidence you could prevail.”
I blinked, unable to come up with a proper response to such unexpected praise.
“Now,” she said a little more loudly. “You must choose a squire before we can proceed with the knighting ceremony. Who will you name?”
My brows rose, and I blinked again as my brain tried to switch gears. I knew immediately who I wanted. “My page, Emmaline.”
An official hovering nearby went to a phone and began speaking into it. Meanwhile, Jaquard appeared at Marisol’s side holding a long, narrow object wrapped in silky gold fabric across his arms.
Suddenly, I realized what the bundle was. “Aurora?” I looked at Jaquard and then at Marisol.
She nodded. “The sword of the Summer Court.”
I had no idea how they’d managed to acquire it so quickly, but it had completely slipped my mind that I wouldn’t be fighting with Mort. I was required to wield Aurora, the sword of the Seelie champion. My opponent would fight with Twilight, the sword of the Unseelie champion and representative of the Winter Court.
Jaquard let the fabric fall away, revealing a decorated leather scabbard that looked older than Faerie i
tself. Maybe it was. He pulled the sword from its sheath and presented the hilt to Marisol. The blade was large—maybe an inch longer than Mort and slightly wider. The metal almost appeared imbued with sunlight, as it seemed to shimmer from within with the rosy yellow light of dawn.
I loved my broadsword, but Aurora had me spellbound. My fingers twitched with the need to hold it, my arms anticipating its heft and balance, my ears the sound it would make cutting through the air.
I was so absorbed in the weapon I didn’t realize Emmaline had arrived until she stood next to me, slightly out of breath. She shot me a quick look of pure delight and gratitude.
“We don’t have much time,” Marisol said. “We should begin.”
She held the hilt with both hands. I knelt on one knee in front of her.
As she began the knighting ceremony, the words seemed to pass through me, their meaning sinking into my cells. I wasn’t really listening in the normal sense. I couldn’t have repeated any of it later. My attention and focus were completely absorbed by Aurora.
Marisol touched each of my shoulders with the end of the blade, said a few more words, and then asked me to rise. Laying the blade flat across her hands, she presented it to me with her head inclined.
“Petra Maguire, the champion of the Stone Order and the Summer Court.”
A shiver began at the crown of my head and passed down through my body and out through my limbs. It reached my fingertips at the exact second I touched Aurora. Time seemed to pause. For a long breath, everything around me disappeared, and there was only the sensation of warm sun, the sound of summer breeze rustling leaves in the trees, and the feel of soft soil underfoot.
Then I was back in Marisol’s office. People were moving and speaking. Jaquard handed me the leather scabbard, and I sheathed the sword of the Summer Court and slung the strap over my shoulder like a bag, keeping hold of it with one hand.
Maxen came forward and offered his hand in a formal congratulatory shake.
“It’s done,” he said, as if he didn’t quite believe it. He kept hold of my hand as he gave me a long, steady gaze.
“I will win,” I said quietly.