Dark Embers: Urban Witch Series - Book 3

by R. L. Giddings

  So what was I supposed to do? Make my excuses and start to back away? Pretend as if it had all been some terrible misunderstanding?

  “Why do you hesitate,” Aleena asked. “Is there something you would ask of me?”

  I dropped to one knee next to Macrory.

  “I hesitate over such a delicate issue.”

  “As well you might. Regicide is such an ugly term but here it seems to fit.”

  Macrory stiffened beside me.

  He said, “My queen, we have no intention of bringing you harm. Quite the opposite. We kneel now as your humble servants.”

  “And yet you come into my presence bearing the ultimate threat to my person.”

  Did she know?

  Aleena stepped down from the dais, drawing a single finger along Silas’ back. His body bristled, his chin rising appreciatively. I was immediately envious.

  She must be exerting some kind of control over him. She must be.

  Perhaps things had gone too far. Perhaps there was no hope of reaching the real Silas now.

  Macrory said, “We bear the blade.”

  “Sigurdsil? And yet, you refuse to surrender it. I believe that you are not being completely honest with me. Have you been sent by your masters with instructions to kill me?”

  Outwardly, she sounded calm and dispassionate. Yet I knew that this was a matter of vital concern to her.

  Macrory said, “Nothing could be further from the truth, my queen.”

  The courtiers, sensing the danger, started to fan out around her. Aleena raised an arm.

  “The assassin’s greatest weapon is his smile,” she took a breath. “But I am not so easily deceived. Send in my Master at Arms.”

  My eyes met Macrory’s wondering where the hell this was going. Some tiny part of me knew that we were now in danger but I couldn’t think what to do about it other than continue kneeling on the black glass.

  There were footsteps from immediately behind us but neither Macrory nor I dared turn around. “My queen.”

  It was Florian, looking as enormous as ever. But this time he was impeccably dressed in the robes of a courtier.

  Aleena said, “As my Master at Arms would have it, you were sent here with the intention of assassinating me in my own throne room. The sprite here was to act as your guide. Do you deny it?”

  I leapt to my feet.

  “I do. And I would question everything that this man has to say. Why would I do such a thing?”

  Florian laughed. “Because you thought that it would bring you great honour: by murdering the head of the Unseelie Court, you hoped to gain the favour of those who would turn against her.”

  It was interesting how he avoided mentioning Silesia by name. A mere glance at the floor seemed enough to make his intentions clear. It was classic misdirection. Aleena was blinded to the threat posed by Florian, concentrating totally on the threat posed by her sister.

  Macrory struggled to his feet. “Your Majesty, you are being ill-used by this man and I would beg you to re-consider.”

  Florian laughed. “How can we trust a traitorous sprite who sells his loyalty to the highest bidder? He may have enjoyed her favour in the past but that time is long gone. Should I have them removed, Majesty?”

  Macrory blew out his cheeks but said nothing, demonstrating enviable self-control.

  I pointed straight at Florian. “This is the man who would have you killed. He has attempted to gain your favour only so that he can put his plan into action. He was the one behind the attacks in London. Attacks which he perpetrated in the hope of making you ever more reliant upon his counsel. He is a man of utter ruthlessness, willing to sacrifice those who pledge their loyalty to him in order to further his own ends. He means to see you murdered so that he may claim the throne for himself.”

  “I’ve heard enough!” Florian gave me a disbelieving smile. “Take her away!”

  The two soldiers eyed one another before levelling their spears in my direction.

  “One moment,” Aleena said, her eyes locked on mine. “How do you know all this?”

  I hesitated, unsure how best to continue. I’d only get one chance at this.

  “He befriended me in the hope that I’d lead him to Sigurdsil. He told me of his true intentions towards you, only once he was certain that I was to be killed. Fortunately, I survived. As you said yourself, Majesty: the assassin’s greatest weapon is his smile.”

  All eyes turned in Florian’s direction, his smile now a distant memory.

  The queen’s head twitched. Then she descended the steps bringing herself face to face with Florian.

  “Is any of this true?”

  “No!” said Florian flatly. “She’s trying to deceive you.”

  The queen made to say something and then stopped herself.

  She said, “But the two of you have met before?”

  Florian threw out his hands, saying nothing.

  Aleena made a dismissive gesture to someone standing behind me and I felt cold hard steel against my throat. Strong hands held me in place while someone else tore at the back of my dress, ripping open the seams. They clearly knew what they were looking for and it was only a matter of seconds before they pulled out the tightly wrapped knife.

  Florian signalled for the package to be brought over to him.

  “Majesty,” I pleaded. “He means to kill you. This man is not to be trusted.”

  Florian started to carefully unwrap the knife while the queen retreated back to the dais. At the top, she turned regarding me over her shoulder.

  “And yet, I trust no man more.”

  Macrory started forward, shaking off the soldier guarding him.

  “Highness! You must needs protect yourself!”

  I brought my hands up, ready to cast but, as I did so, I was struck from behind. Then the elder of the two dais guards - heeding Macrory’s warning - stepped forward, blocking Florian’s path to the queen. I watched in horror as the younger guard produced a knife and drove it into the other man’s side. The elder guard dropped to his knees, blood spilling over the floor.

  “What’s going on?” Aleena’s voice sounded high and shrill.

  Florian had Sigurdsil unwrapped and was pointing it directly at her.

  “You should have listened to the girl,” he said. “She spoke the truth. The humans had no interest in our world before I managed to persuade them otherwise.”

  “And the promises you made to me?” Aleena stood up absolutely straight. “Were those lies also?”

  “You heard what you wanted to hear. You needed a diversion from the devastation your policies were inflicting on the Kingdom. A war would have suited your needs as well as mine. The only thing I lied about was my feelings for you.”

  “And you thought to do all this in order to seize the throne?” she sounded dismissive. “No man has graced the elder throne since Oberon. And you have the gall to think that you could take my place?”

  Florian was already in motion, the blade flashing through the air, its point coming to rest on the pale flesh of the queen’s throat. Her eyes narrowed and she swallowed involuntarily but, if she had been considering a spell, the idea died quickly.

  “No one could have been more remiss in their duties than you, my queen. To put all your efforts into extending your reign by sabotaging the Dandelion Tower. Everything has been sacrificed in order to keep you on the throne regardless of the cost. When you eventually fall, dear Aleena, do you think that there will be anyone in the Seelie court who will shed a tear at your passing?”

  The queen’s eyes dropped to the floor. The image in the glass was indistinct but it was possible to pick out a circle of heads staring up at us. Was Silesia there, I wondered? Looking on while her sister was murdered.

  I exchanged looks with Macrory, wondering how this was going to turn out. Were we meant to intervene? Macrory’s head twitched.

  No.

  “You’d better kneel.” Florian said.

  The queen laughed. “Kneel to you? You
’d best kill me right here.”

  “Have it your own way.”

  He was inhumanly quick, pushing her back against the throne, whilst bringing the knife over in a wide arc. The point aimed at her heart.

  But, for all his speed, Silas was quicker, his jaws snapping shut around Florian’s wrist. The big man tried to wrestle himself free but that only made things worse.

  I heard his wrist snap from where I was standing.

  Florian was forced down onto his knees as the queen cowered behind her throne. Silas shook his vast head back and forth as if preparing to rip the arm from its socket but, on a word from the queen, he released Florian and began backing away.

  Florian blinked down at what was left of his arm, the blade slack in his hand. Blood from various wounds dripped freely onto the carpet. With great care, he took up the knife in his left hand.

  The queen’s eyes burned, “You may kill me, Florian, but it will do you no good. The Old Gods will not suffer a usurper to sit on the throne for long. My sister will avenge me.”

  “Not as long as I have Sigurdsil,” Florian stepped clumsily around the throne in an effort to get to her. “Now shut up and kneel.”

  “I think not,” she stepped away from him.

  Florian stumbled, catching his knee on the side of the throne. He’d left a thick trail of blood on the carpet and, as he looked out at the rest of us, his eyes were suddenly full of doubt.

  “Come here, you bitch, and I’ll make it quick.”

  But the game was over. It was only Florian who didn’t seem to have realised. He darted forward with the knife, eager to strike home but Aleena had the measure of him now. She picked up her skirts and skipped out of reach.

  Silas pounced just as Florian was adjusting his hold on the knife. His jaws locked around the man’s throat just as Florian brought his good hand round in an effort to defend himself. If Sigurdsil could fell the Winter Queen then it would make quick work of Silas. Florian fought to break free, his hand punching up into the wolf’s ribs: once, twice, three times.

  But Silas, standing on his back legs, seemed not to notice. His jaws working to slowly crush Florian’s larynx. When I made to step closer, to see whether Silas had been wounded, Macrory pulled me back.

  But I’d seen all I needed to see.

  Florian’s hand was empty.

  “The knife?” I said. “Where is it?”

  “There,” Macrory pointed to the foot of the steps. He must have dropped it when Silas first struck.

  The pair of them stood, locked in a tight embrace, like two drowning swimmers. Florian, chest heaving with the effort, made a sound between a snort and a sob and tried, one last time, to push Silas away.

  It was Silas who pulled away first, breaking the stalemate, his snout matted with blood.

  Florian somehow managed to remain upright.

  He raised a single eye-brow and made as if he were about to address the entire room. But though his mouth worked well enough, the only sound that came out of it was a kind of bubbling gasp. He took a drunken step forward, nodded once and then toppled sideways.

  I used the distraction to drop down and pick up the knife. The queen tensed when she saw what I was holding.

  “I thought we might be done with that,” she said, disappointment etched in her voice.

  “So did I.”

  I made to step around Florian’s body but, as I lifted my leg, a low growl issued from over in Silas’ direction.

  After what I’d just seen, I chose not to antagonise him any further and simply knelt on the lowest step. I held Sigurdsil before me, handle turned towards the queen.

  Even then, she hesitated to take it.

  “You mean to make a bargain with me?”

  I didn’t have the energy. Bargaining with the Sidhe never works out the way you want it to.

  “I mean to make you a gift, your majesty.”

  *

  As we left the Great Hall and headed off across the courtyard the hailstones began to fall in earnest. Aleena had brought Silas along for protection but now, after what I’d witnessed in the throne room, I was more than a little wary of him.

  The noise as the hail struck the rooftops steadily grew until it became an unearthly roar. I raised an arm to shield my head from the downpour only to be struck on the shoulder by something the size of a tennis ball.

  “Over there!”

  Macrory pointed to a spot on the building opposite and the queen and I started running. Silas loped along between us, matching our pace effortlessly. We threw ourselves against the wall where we were partially protected by the over-hanging roof and watched as the hail-storm intensified, solid balls of ice hitting the ground with such force that they re-bounded several feet into the air.

  A soldier appeared from the rear of the Great Hall and made as if to join us. He was struck several times about the head with giant hailstones, only his helmet protecting him from being knocked senseless. Macrory waved for him to return to the palace and, after a moment’s hesitation, that’s just what he did.

  The downpour only intensified after that, the damp air chilling my cheeks.

  “I’ve never seen anything like it,” I said.

  “And it’s only going to get worse.”

  Macrory looked over to where the queen stood, brushing Silas’ back. He rubbed himself against her, baring his teeth with pleasure.

  “Should we press on, your majesty? To the tower?”

  At first I didn’t think that she’d heard, she was kneeling now, cradling Silas’ face in both hands. She was surprisingly tender with him and I couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy. He’d shown not the least bit of affection towards me since I’d arrived. I was beginning to doubt my reasons for coming.

  The queen stopped what she was doing and looked up at the sky.

  “This is all my doing. The earthquakes, the storms, the crop failures. I see that now.”

  “It’s not too late, Majesty. There’s still time.”

  “The Dandelion Tower is a delicate instrument. Stopping it was one thing, re-starting it may well be beyond our capabilities.”

  She did have a point. Tampering with such a complex mechanism was bound to have unseen consequences.

  Macrory moved to rest a reassuring hand on the queen’s arm but stopped himself.

  “With all five blades re-united after all this time, there is a chance that we might repair some of the damage that’s been done.”

  “The knives?” I said. “What do they have to do with it?”

  The queen blinked, considering her options.

  “While the magic in the kingdom has faded almost to nothing, up in the tower it’s as strong as ever. These knives work as anchors, helping to regulate the enormous forces at work within the tower itself.”

  I couldn’t begin to think how all this might be achieved. Judging by the upheavals that were taking place all around us it would surely be too little too late.

  But Ib Ure was housed in the tower, and it still wasn’t too late as far as Silas was concerned.

  Macrory turned to me and whispered. “You have the blade about you?”

  I drew open my jacket revealing the wrapped knife securely tucked inside my waistband. Aleena had insisted that I hold onto it in the short term. She clearly had plans for me now.

  “Good,” Macrory frowned. “Then we still might have a chance. Come along. We must be about our business.”

  We followed Macrory past the building and out into a side alley. Once through the alley we emerged into a large square. The storm had abated and the grey clouds were starting to clear but I quickly forgot about the weather. I was too busy staring at the Dandelion Tower.

  It was so tall that I had to strain to see the apex where it blotted out the sun. Up close, it looked even more like some alien construct, built using techniques that had long since been forgotten.

  The nearer we approached, the worse I felt. Pressure mounted in my ears while sour spit rose in my throat. But I could see
the narrow access door now and that kept me moving forward despite everything. Macrory got there first and stood examining the door in detail.

  The door fit flush with the stone which surrounded it. There was no frame, no handle, only a series of golden runes which had been inlaid into the wood. The workmanship was exquisite and when I ran my hand over the face of it, found it impossible to detect where wood ended and the metalwork began. I may have been mistaken, but I had the distinct impression that some of the runes were glowing, almost as if in sequence.

  Macrory stepped aside, inviting the queen to approach but she stayed where she was. Instead, it was Silas who approached: head down, ears back, a low pitched growl building in his throat. He went right up to the door, his snout moving ceaselessly as he searched for scents. He moved around the whole building that way, searching for something but never seeming to find it. When he finally retreated, he went over to Aleena, his head briefly nuzzling her hip before she pushed him away.

  “If you are satisfied, majesty, we ask only that we may be granted access.”

  Aleena nodded her assent. Then she fished out the great Queen’s Key from around her neck and stepped towards the door.

  I went and stood beside Macrory.

  “Is it safe?” I asked.

  Macrory checked that we couldn’t be over-heard then spoke softly.

  “Magic has leaked out of the world and all our achievements lie in ruins. But inside the magic of the elder fathers remains undiminished, untouched by time or the vagaries of our rulers. To open the door is to open a door to another dimension, one which will either reinvigorate our world or see it completely destroyed.”

  “So, not safe then?”

  He ignored that.

  “Majesty?”

  For the first time since I’d met her, the queen looked genuinely perturbed. The key had been turned but the door remained locked. Macrory cautiously approached her. He indicated the rune at the very centre of the design and then urged the queen to place her palm over it and push.