by Molly Ringle
One of the princesses arrived, a woman in her thirties who welcomed him graciously and escorted him into the palace.
He was brought to a third-floor assembly room, where he shook hands with the queen, prime minister, and a number of other royals and members of Parliament. Everyone’s awe and gratitude was allowed to play out for several minutes. Then the queen seated him at an enormous polished table with a cup of tea in dragon-decorated china in front of him, and he prepared himself for the inquisition.
The other politicians and royals stayed to listen, taking every available chair and standing in as much space as could be found. Though they hushed to hear him, their constant whispers made the room more loud than quiet.
Janssen sat beside Larkin with a computer open on the table to record their conversation. The queen and prime minister sat opposite. The queen was not unlike Larkin’s grandmother in demeanor, which endeared her to him; while the prime minister, Riquelme, was a pudgy man who kept fussing with the medals of office on his robes. There was an emptiness in his eyes that put a chill in Larkin’s stomach.
“Your Highness,” Janssen said, “if you’d please begin with when you woke up.”
Larkin nodded. “As I stated, it was an accident, a quirk of magic. I was in the bower, but soon found the means to leave it, through a portal Rosamund must have hidden there.”
“Were you alone when you awoke?”
“Indeed.” Unlike Merrick and Cassidy, Larkin had no trouble lying, especially to those who would only do harm with the truth.
“And where did the portal lead you?”
“A beach, somewhere near or within the city.”
Good. Put them onto a false trail, Merrick had said. There were plenty of affluent beachfront neighborhoods in the vicinity of Dasdemir, and Rosamund had lived in one during some of her time with the court, though according to Merrick, her particular house no longer stood. Nonetheless, it would seem plausible that any portal from the bower might open into that region, and the hint would give the government a large terrain to search.
“It was the middle of the night,” Larkin went on. “No one was about. I wandered the beach, utterly disoriented, until I saw a woman out on her veranda. I approached and asked where I was, and what year it was, and, thinking me fae-struck, she took me within to help me. Then shortly she realized my identity.”
“Who was this woman?” Janssen asked.
“She told me only to call her ‘J.’ I don’t know if that was an initial or a name. I was still confused and shaken, and it seemed the least of my concerns.”
“But you recorded a video from there. You came across as lucid in it. She assisted you with the technology and the clothes?”
“Yes. We discussed my predicament—I didn’t want to return to the palace, not after what Rosamund had done to me. I didn’t trust those in authority.” He glanced around.
Sympathy marked their faces; they all nodded. All other than Prime Minister Riquelme, who frowned at a fold of his sleeve as if it had insulted him.
“But she still should have turned you over,” Janssen said. “Where exactly was this house? Could you help us find her, so we could learn more?”
Larkin shook his head with regret. “You see, she was a witch. She wanted to help me, keep me from being enspelled again, but she knew she could be endangered for doing so. Thus, with my permission, she used her magic to alter my memory. Her face, her age, her home, they’re all indistinct when I try to remember them. I only remember that she was kind, and she helped me, and that she was able to allow my mind to be clear enough in all ways except in the particulars of her identity.”
“But you were gone almost two full days.” Janssen had begun to sound frustrated. “You stayed with her the whole time?”
“Yes. She left at times, having work to tend to, and I was alone in the house, where I could rest and read to educate myself about the modern century.”
“What was her work? Do you remember anything?”
“She didn’t say. Though I do seem to recall … ” Larkin frowned, as if making an effort. “I saw an official witch sash hanging on a peg. Yellow.” He nodded toward Janssen’s. “She put it on before leaving.”
Everyone’s eyes pulled to Janssen’s glossy yellow sash, then they glanced at one another in furtive ways.
Yes, Merrick had said. Make it an official witch. Make them start suspecting each other. Oh, you’re good at this court intrigue thing, aren’t you?
“We attempted to find you with spells,” Janssen said. “She supplied you with resistance magic to block those?”
Larkin nodded. “Her house had charms about it, she told me. Evidently she’d had a matter-witch treat it, as some do.”
That had been common enough in Larkin’s day, and Merrick said it still was, especially for those of high profile.
“Only when the fae attacked the palace,” Larkin went on, “did I decide I must return, much as I dreaded to.”
“You dreaded it because of what Rosamund did to you?” the queen asked.
“Exactly so. I had little inclination to trust any officials again.”
“We … have heard that theory, of course,” Janssen said. “That she compelled you. A horrible crime, naturally. But we’ve always assumed no one could sustain that amount of power over someone else for that long.”
“Then you underestimate Rosamund’s abilities. I can only be grateful that, for whatever reason, the magic weakened, or expired, so that I was able to escape at last. Her actions did, I grant you, achieve exactly what everyone hoped: establishing a longstanding peace. Until today.”
“Until today,” Prime Minister Riquelme echoed. Then he thumped a hand on the table. “Well! But we’ve found you. You’re all right, you’re free. Thank the Lord and Lady.”
“And the Spirit and elements,” Larkin said, the traditional temple response.
Riquelme looked along the table to the only two fae who sat at it: a broad, short hob and a stately green dryad, the principal fae ambassador and her first associate. “We have the prince back. We’ve got him here; we know he’s fine. Can’t you, on your side, get Ula Kana under control too?”
The two fae looked puzzled. “The prince is awake and walks free,” the hob said. “Thus so does Ula Kana.”
“But there must be something you can do. A coalition of fae willing to round her up, like last time.”
“Many of us don’t like her actions, it’s true,” the hob said, “but only in certain cases can we interfere. The fae don’t operate under one government. We have many different groups and rulers and individuals. The arrangement in 1799 took place only because of the deal, the sleep, and even then it was only a defined contingent of allies who assisted.”
Riquelme glanced at a cabinet member and shook his head. “Fae and their deals.”
“They’re an Eidolonian tradition,” the queen said, in a perfect blend of commiseration and stern reminder.
“Then what do we do?” Riquelme tossed his hands up. “People have been injured, killed! The south tower is a smoking ruin! And that was just today. Who knows what’s going to happen tomorrow, next week?”
“Many of us did have thoughts for a different deal,” Larkin put in. “One that might satisfy our fae friends.”
“Sure, ideas from two hundred years ago, that’ll help.” Riquelme pouted at the far wall.
Irritation simmered in Larkin’s chest. Little wonder that Merrick and his family detested the current cabinet. He stared at Riquelme, saying nothing.
The queen laid a hand on Riquelme’s arm. “We all want to stop the violence and restore our truce. Fae as well as humans.”
“We don’t have to put up with this,” Riquelme told her. “You know we don’t. The rest of the world has pushed them back, used land the way humans need, gotten rid of all this … enchantment.” He flapped a hand in the air as if enchantment were a cloud of biting flies.
“On this island,” Larkin said, “such threats are unwise. You’ve seen
only the merest hint of what the fae can do if angered.”
“And what did we even do to anger them? We existed! Is that fair?”
“Not at all, but you speak only of a small faction, of Ula Kana and her followers. There are many fae willing to make deals satisfactory to all, to live peaceably alongside humans.”
“It’s ridiculous,” Riquelme said. “Other countries don’t have to deal with this.”
“No, and I’ve often wished to leave and live elsewhere so as to avoid these very problems myself. But this is our home, and it’s unique in the world, and for better or worse, it belongs to the fae. They let us ashore to enrich their existence with our company and our arts, not to push them off into a few wild corners and diminish their magic to nothing, the way humans have long since done in the rest of the world. Nor could we easily do it here, since by all accounts, the magic on Eidolonia is stronger than anywhere else, and the fae are manifestations of it.”
“But we aren’t safe! Look what’s going on.”
“Once again, I agree, but I warn you in the strongest terms: do not make an enemy of all fae in general, unless you wish for a hundred times more destruction and death than we’ve seen today. I have seen it, friend. In person.” Larkin set both hands on the table, palms down. Everyone’s gazes fell to the scars, the white slashes bright under the lights.
“Our worry,” Janssen said after a moment, “is that someone awakened you—or Ula Kana, and thereby you too—with the aim of causing trouble, for humankind in particular. This is why we’d like to know more about how you were freed, and who this person was that sheltered you.”
Larkin had vowed to protect Merrick. And the way this conversation had gone, he was more determined than ever not to throw Merrick to these vultures.
“It was an accident, a deterioration of the spell, nothing more,” Larkin said. “Who would have the power to slip past the defenses of the palace and awaken me without anyone knowing? And once having done so, why would they simply let me walk free rather than holding me for ransom?”
They all pondered that.
“Fae who just want to free Ula Kana,” Riquelme said. “Who didn’t care if you were free or not, but who wanted to let her out. They could’ve freed her, not you, and that was how the spell broke.”
“As you say. But in the absence of any definite threat aside from that posed by Ula Kana herself, I strongly advise against assuming the worst.”
“The worst has already happened. She’s awake and attacking!”
“I’m sure a party has been sent to Arlanuk’s land to inquire how she escaped?” Larkin asked.
“It has,” Janssen said. “Some of our fae ambassadors. They’ll be as quick as they can, though it’s impossible to say how long it’ll take.”
Larkin nodded and sat back, lacing his fingers together on his lap. “Ula Kana should be your concern, not any innocent citizens kind enough to help me. Pursuing them is a waste of effort. Until your ambassadors return, we can only discuss how best to keep the peace.”
“Indeed,” the queen said. “We have many urgent meetings today, and undoubtedly tomorrow too. Prince Larkin, I hope you can accompany us to them and provide your input?”
Larkin assented. The queen rose from her chair, and everyone stood with her.
Janssen picked up her computer. “I will have further questions about where you’ve been since awakening, Your Highness, and who you spoke with before coming to us.”
“I spoke to few, and I think it unlikely that any guessed who I was, nor would it matter if they did. But I feel sure none attempted to do me any harm.”
That last, in any case, was true, even if so much else said in this room today was not.
CHAPTER 21
SAL’S HOUSE WAS BARELY HALF A MILE FROM the palace, in the Japanese District. Though no one had any reason to look for Merrick yet, as far as he knew, he parked his car a block away and walked to Sal’s.
In this district, as in most of Eidolonia, the houses were surrounded by high garden fences for privacy. The one around Sal’s was made of tan bamboo poles with dark green cross-poles. He passed the front gate, in case any neighbors were watching, and went instead to the deserted alley bordering her back garden.
The eaves of Sal’s tea house, a shed in her garden with shoji screens for doors, overhung the alley fence. Merrick ducked under the eaves to get out of the rain.
With the feeling that he shouldn’t say anything incriminating, he hadn’t yet answered Sal’s texts since the palace attack. He found she had sent another a few minutes ago.
Sal: I take it you are not coming, but I am now very worried. Are you okay?
Merrick wiped off his wet fingers and typed an answer.
Merrick: I’m so sorry, day got crazy. I’m okay. Can I come see you now, if you’re alone?
Sal: I am alone, yes please do. Are you near?
Merrick: Come to your back door
Her garden gate was seven feet tall and locked, but that was no obstacle to him. In a few seconds, he had gusted up and over it and landed with a squish in her garden. A tiny gravel-lined stream, swollen full with the rain, ran between mossy banks, and stone lanterns gleamed under Japanese maples. Everything smelled green and tranquil and earthy. The house’s back door opened, a rectangle of light in the rainy dusk.
Sal lumbered out. “Merrick! Oh, look out for those alven. They get underfoot.”
Something splashed in the stream. An alf chittered, rose up as a bubble of water, morphed into an otter, and scampered across his shoe and off into the garden. Alven were harmless enough as long as you didn’t remove their favorite water features. Then they got a bit destructive.
“They still hang around, huh?” he said.
“Yes, they like the stream. Come inside! I have bread in the oven, and I’ll make tea.”
“Thank you. And Sal … I’m so sorry for what I’m about to dump on you. I really need your advice. But throw me out as soon as I’m the slightest bit of trouble; I mean it.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. In!”
She urged him out of his wet jacket and settled him in a kitchen chair with a mug of mint-lavender tea. The oven warmed the house, exuding the smell of baking bread. She took out the loaf, fragrant with thyme, and set it on the stovetop to cool, not even using an oven mitt. Hobs had tough skin, and all fae tended to heal within seconds if they did get wounded. Only iron hurt them longer, and even then they could always recover.
“Now.” Sal pulled out another chair and sat across from him. “Tell me what you know.”
Merrick confessed all.
She listened, drinking in the information silently, her narrow ears quivering in interest.
He showed her Larkin’s videos, which made her eyes brighten, and soon they had the items from Rosamund’s box spread all over the table. From her bookshelves Sal brought out a map of the fae territory, not as detailed as a proper survey map, but more accurate and up-to-date than Rosamund’s sketches.
“Hmm,” she kept saying, leafing through the journal. “Mm-hmm. I see.”
“The whole thing still makes no sense to me,” Merrick said. “Do you think my mother wanted me to find the box?”
“Because you tried to summon her? You think she threw the lightning and broke open the gargoyle?”
“I have to wonder.”
“Can’t see why she’d lead you to it if she thought it would wake up Ula Kana. I’ve never met your mother, but she doesn’t sound like the human-hating type. Quite the opposite.” Sal rose and pulled two plates from a cupboard. “Likelier, some ally of Ula Kana’s heard you when you tried that summons, and followed you home, and figured you were a good candidate for getting into the box, waking up Larkin, and thereby freeing Ula Kana.”
Merrick groaned, covering his face. “I stepped into a trap set by Ula Kana’s team?” Then he frowned at her, confused. “But if they knew the box was there all along, with something in it that would wake her up, why hadn’t they grabbed it themselves?�
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“Oh, Rosamund would’ve put spells on it to keep fae from grabbing it. Not half-fae apparently, but pure fae at least.”
“Then why hadn’t the fae enticed some other witch into opening it in all these years?”
Sal pulled a bread knife from a drawer. “Humans aren’t a very good bet for doing what fae want. Untrustworthy, tending to lie, all that. Plenty of humans might have turned over the box to the authorities, or used it for their own purposes. But possibly the fae observed you and figured … you might not.”
“Lord. I’m the worst.”
“You couldn’t have known. I mean, you shouldn’t have touched Larkin maybe, but you were only trying to help him. I imagine he’s grateful.” She began slicing the bread.
“I hope he’s all right. They haven’t made any announcement about finding him.” He’d been checking the news on his phone every few minutes, and felt ill whenever he thought of Larkin trapped in there with an overpowering number of witches and corrupt politicians. He couldn’t possibly be all right.
“I’m sure they’re treating him well. He’s worth something, public sentiment at least. Although … ”
“Although what?”
She resumed sawing back and forth with the bread knife. “Humans don’t always do what makes sense to me, that’s all. Even so, they’ll keep him safe.”
She brought over two pieces of bread, gave Merrick one, and eased her bulk into the other chair.
He pulled the crust from the bread, watching the steam rise, and finally dared ask the question that had been lodged in his throat. “And me, am I safe? Will they find out about me?”
She spent a little too long spreading butter on her bread, and his heart sank.
“It’s likely,” she said. “Larkin may be dedicated to covering for you, but at some point they’ll slip him a truth spell whether he consents or not.”
Merrick set the bread on his plate, unable to eat.
“They’ll want to know who did this,” she added. “Right now they’re thinking it’s someone looking to start a rebellion. People like Riquelme might even use it as an excuse to push into the fae realm, or at least try. They’d find it was a bad idea, but it wouldn’t be a pretty lesson.”