by C. T. Adams
38
KING LEU OF THE SIDHE
Leu dropped the long braided length of black hair onto the fire and watched it burn. The stench of it filled the strangely empty library; much of its contents had been hidden in secret rooms down in the tunnels or passed “accidentally” to Brianna. Valjeta would not get his treasures easily, if at all, and he would rather they were lost for all time than have them fall into her hands.
War.
The initial raids and feints had begun. Valjeta’s people had begun attacking those living in the outlying areas, the ones the most vulnerable. Leu’s people were as ready as he could make them, his warriors in place and armed with the best hand-to-hand weaponry available on either side of the veil. He’d also had the king’s gates closely guarded, prepared to send refugees to Earth should it come to that, where he had quietly been preparing places for them since the day he took the throne.
Leu had made sure that his people had been exposed to the language and customs of the modern world. The Sidhe would blend in with the humans. The lesser Fae would not be so shocked by the changes to the human world that they would choose to fade. He’d seen to that.
The healers had been given both human and magical training and equipment. It would serve them well both in the war effort and on the other side of the veil.
Leu’s courtiers had believed he’d made changes to their world because he was besotted with human ways. He’d encouraged that belief, for it had served his purpose. Even Ju-Long had not known or guessed the full extent of his plans.
Ruling was a lonely business.
Leu stared down at his hands. On his hand was a ring, but not the ring. This piece of jewelry was a replacement. On Leu’s finger, it looked exactly like the king’s seal. Removed from Leu’s hand by a traitor, the magic Leu had put into it would summon a bolt of pure energy that would simultaneously consume Leu’s corpse and the traitor. It had been Leu’s idea, this last death blow, and he hoped and prayed that it would rid his daughter of Valjeta. Brianna would still have to deal with her other enemies but Leu believed her capable of handling them. Valjeta was something else entirely. He wasn’t sure he could handle Valjeta, but damned if he wasn’t going to try.
I am so sorry, Brianna. I know you don’t want this, nor do I want it for you. But like it or not, it is your fate to rule as it was mine.
Morguenna was a brilliant healer, but Brianna’s wound … he could smell it through the portal. He knew that smell, and what it meant. Brianna might lose that hand, or even her life.
Damn Valjeta. Leu was Sidhe, he didn’t believe in the Christian notion of hell, but at this moment he wished he did, so he could send his aunt there for eternity. Deities knew she deserved it. How many deaths? How many? And for what? Power? A crown?
Leu turned at the sound of booted footsteps. A guard approached. Leu recognized his face but couldn’t put a name to it. He frowned at himself; he should know the names of the men and women who’d sworn their lives to protect his.
The guard went down on one knee and waited for the king’s acknowledgment before saying, “Your majesty, the Ard Reigh Rodan is at the door and awaits your pleasure.”
“Send him in.”
The guard backed away. A moment later, Leu’s son strode into the room.
Rodan wore a tunic and trousers in traditional mourning gray, for despite the fact that Eammon had betrayed him, Leu was allowing the family to honor his passing. The younger man had pulled his hair back in a long braid. The severe style suited him, and Leu reflected that his son had inherited no small part of his mother’s beauty.
“Your majesty … father,” Rodan said softly. His expression was a perfect mask of sorrow and grim determination. Or, perhaps not a mask. For just an instant Leu wished he had his own ring on his finger, so that he could test his son as he’d tested Asara.
“My son.”
“You have cut your hair, as have mother and the guards. Are we at war, then?” His voice was steady, but there was a thread of eagerness in his words and a tension in Rodan’s body that betrayed his excitement. But then, Rodan was a young man, who had never experienced the horrors of battle, the blood, the stench. He’d never heard the screams of the injured and dying. It was normal for him to be eager to test his skill and training, to want to prove himself.
Deities, how old he made Leu feel. “It is a matter of hours.”
“What would you have me do?”
You are my son. Given a choice I’d have had you flee to the north with your sister. But that would shame you, and I need every skilled warrior I can get. “Take a message to Brughan. He is to take a company of men and secure the tunnels. When that is done, join Ulrich at the first king’s gate. He will be expecting you.”
“Of course, your majesty.” Rodan bowed low enough that his braid swept the floor before backing to the door.
Leu watched him go, his heart filled with sadness and dread. He knew that Rodan was skilled in magic, that he practiced regularly with all kinds of weapons, including handguns and rifles as well as the Sidhe’s traditional knife and sword. His grasp of tactics wasn’t what Leu would have it be, but Ulrich was battle seasoned and a fine commander.
Assigning him to Ulrich meant that while Rodan would have a part in the fighting, he would also be able to escape through the gate when the palace fell. Rodan would live, and could take the throne should Brianna die of her injuries.
“Your majesty.” A feminine voice interrupted that particularly grim train of thought.
Leu looked over at the new head of his guard as she bowed to him. Kenneth had spoken well of Syrelle. Her record was impressive and when they spoke, Leu could tell that she was decisive and possessed a keen mind. It had been hard for him to choose between her and Gwynneth. In the end, the fact that she had taken part in the action that had seen Brianna’s friends safely to the human side of the veil had decided him.
“Yes? What is it?”
She straightened, her gaze meeting his. “Maybelle broke under questioning, sire. She knew more than I expected. We have names and specific times, but not a location.”
Leu strode over to the desk. At a muttered word, a three-dimensional map of Faerie appeared like a mist, floating six inches above his desk. Another murmur added the veil and Earth to the image.
“The timing?”
“Seven hours from now.”
“Our time or theirs?” Since the ball, Leu had changed the way time ran in Faerie, as was the king’s prerogative. By speeding time in Faerie relative to Earth, he’d given himself more time to prepare—and his opponent less.
“Our time.”
He nodded. It was much as he’d expected, thanks to the intelligence gathered by Ju-Long.
Syrelle passed the king a list of names. “These are the people she named. She did not know the current location of the traitor Valjeta.”
Leu didn’t answer. His features darkened, his eyes going from silver to steel gray as he scanned the sheet of paper. In the distance, thunder rumbled ominously. Most of those listed were people he had suspected. But there were many unpleasant surprises as well.
“Shall I send troops to make arrests?”
Leu picked up a pen and put check marks by all but three of the names, then handed the list back to Syrelle. “Arrest those I’ve checked. Contact Ju-Long and have him put his best people on the others. I want them followed, discreetly, and I want frequent, detailed reports about their actions over the next six hours.”
“And after that?”
“Take them alive if you can—although I doubt they’ll cooperate.”
She gave a firm nod. Bowing, she backed from the room to follow the orders he’d given.
“Syrelle,” Leu said. She paused in mid-step, waiting. “I don’t need anyone to give us Valjeta’s location. We already know.”
“Sire?” she asked, the tilt of her head showing her curiosity.
Leu pointed to the portion of the map showing where Faerie and the veil intersected with
the northwestern United States. “Valjeta is here—or was as of a few minutes ago, when she fought with my daughter. Brianna is injured, but alive, and I daresay Valjeta is worse for the wear as well.” Leu bared his teeth in a caricature of a smile.
He continued, “She has a means of regenerating her magic that, while abhorrent, is quite effective. So we should expect her to be at full strength when she attacks.” He blew out a single breath.
“It is time to move my base of operations to the throne room. Have the guards handle it,” he said with a pointed glance at the list in her hand. “It seems that quite a lot of my personal staff will be unavailable.”
“Of course, sire. I’ll take care of it.”
“Thank you, Syrelle. You may go.” Leu watched her until she left the room, then moved back to the fire.
Seven hours.
39
LUCIENNE
Lucienne followed Gwynneth through dimly lit halls that echoed with each step. By the time they reached the doors of the throne room, she was shivering, from the chill and from fright. Brianna had been exiled and Eammon killed. Troops were being moved around the country. Nobles she’d known her entire life had been arrested. Her father had vanished behind closed doors, in meetings with his generals and most trusted advisors.
Now, in the middle of the night, Lucienne had been rousted from her bed by a summons from her father, delivered not by a page or minor functionary, but by Gwynneth herself—who had cut her hair to an unflattering, short bristle. Nor had Lucie been allowed to properly dress herself; her thin sleeping gown did nothing to ward off the cold.
At a nod from Gwynneth, one of a pair of armed guards opened the huge brass door just enough for Gwynneth and Lucienne to pass through, then pushed the door closed behind them.
She froze just across the threshold, shocked by what she saw.
It was as she had feared. The kingdom was going to war.
The throne room was awash with people. Tables were scattered throughout the room, laden with maps and other papers. A large map, made of magic and mist, hung in midair in the center of the room, being closely studied by generals and advisors; the sound of their debate echoed from the vaulted ceiling.
Her father sat above it all, on his throne. Affixed by magic to the nearest wall was the picture that normally adorned the library—the painting that had served as a portal to the human world. Even from this distance Lucienne could see the spells of prohibition that had been carved and painted into its frame, making it impossible for anyone to cross the veil through the picture. Apparently it still showed what was happening on the other side of the veil, for her father was watching the painting the way a human would watch a television.
“The lady Lucienne Ap Reigh, your majesty.”
Lucienne made her obeisance. Her father rose and strode down the steps to meet her, saying, “Rise.”
She rose, and raised her eyes to meet his.
She managed not to gasp at his appearance, but he was so changed in the last few weeks that it was hard to keep her countenance smooth. Leu looked old, tired, and very, very angry. Like Gwynneth and the guards, indeed, like every man and woman in sight, the king had cut his hair short. No doubt he’d burned the cuttings himself, to be sure they could not be used against him. He traded the gray of mourning for the black of the guards—the plain fighting uniform, the tunic woven with spells of protection and lined with Kevlar.
“What can I do to help?” Lucienne didn’t hesitate. She didn’t have much to offer. She’d never trained with the guard and her lessons had taught her that she was not a stellar tactician, but she was a fair hand at magic, and willing to do whatever was necessary to serve her king, and her people.
The king smiled at her. “Are you certain? I have a task for you, but it is a thankless one, and while less dangerous than some, particularly with Ju-Long at your side, it is still not without risk.”
“Whatever you need, if I can do it, I will.” She tried to put her heart in the words, to make him understand that she truly meant it. Eammon had betrayed him. Lucienne would not. Politics be damned, he was her father. And however belatedly she’d come to realize it, she loved him.
“Thank you, Lucie. That means everything to me.” He took her hand and escorted her to the top of the dais, gesturing for her to take a seat on the small stool that had been moved to the level just below the throne.
“As you can see, we are about to go to war. The traitor, Valjeta, is returning, to supporters who have waited eagerly for her.” His voice was bitter, but he waved her protests aside with impatience. “There is to be a civil war. I am surrounded by traitors. The outlook is … not good.”
This time she cried out in earnest.
“It’s Fate, Lucienne. She spared me once, to save our people. I am doing everything in my power, but—”
“I’m so sorry.” Tears ran unheeded down Lucienne’s cheeks.
He gave her a sad smile. “So am I. But I’ve made my peace with it. And as we are going to war, I must choose my heir.”
Lucienne met his gaze, knowing, without being told, what that choice must be. “It’s Brianna. It has to be. We’re at war—she has the training and the support of the guards and the lesser Fae. They’ve seen that she values all of our people, all life—a gargoyle is her dearest friend, as was a dryad, she’s chosen to live among the humans. All that makes the folk willing to follow her as they wouldn’t any of the others.”
“‘The others,’” Leu said with a brief chuckle. “You don’t count yourself among the candidates? Don’t you wish to be queen?”
She gave him a smile as sad as his own. “In peace, I could be a good queen. Not now. I’d be signing my own death warrant, and I might take Faerie down with me. No, it has to be Brianna. Even the nobles who dislike her will see the sense of it.”
“You’re not the idiot you pretend to be. And yes, in peacetime you would be a good choice.”
“But not now.”
“No. Not now.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“Ju-Long will give you my ring, the King’s Seal. Take it to your sister.”
“Of course. And what of the others?”
“Asara has sent Rihannon to her family in the northlands. Neither she nor Rodan know I’ve chosen.”
Lucie had her doubts about that. Her father might not have told them, but they would have guessed, just as she had, and they would not be happy about it. Still, she didn’t comment. There was no point.
“By now Rodan should have joined Ulrich and his troops. You and Ju-Long must pass through the ring of protection that surrounds the city. Take the ring, and my decision, through the veil to your sister. Stay with her. She’ll need your support should I fall.”
“When do I leave?”
“Now. Ju-Long has appropriate clothing for you, and supplies. Is there anything you need before you go?”
“Scissors.”
Leu raised an eyebrow in inquiry.
“I need to cut my hair.”
40
The supplies Ju-Long provided were from the human side of the veil. Lucienne stepped into a pair of thick denim jeans that draped easily over her fur-lined boots. The heavy, cream-colored sweater knitted in an elaborate pattern was sturdy and covered most of her neck. It was so bulky that she had a bit of trouble pulling up the zipper of the leather jacket she was to wear over it.
A knitted cap and gloves completed the outfit. Small as she was, and with her hair cropped short, she looked very young, and nothing at all like herself. Which was, she supposed, the whole point.
Ju-Long had to show her how to put on the strapped bag he referred to as a backpack, first explaining that it had been spelled shut and booby-trapped to protect its contents. If anyone but Lucienne opened it, and even if she opened it without using the right password, it would detonate, turning everything within twenty feet to dust.
Knowing that didn’t help steady her nerves, but when her father came over to them, she managed to pre
tend to be calm.
“A moment alone with my daughter, if you please,” the king said.
“Of course, your majesty.” Ju-Long bowed low, moving with deliberate haste to a table where Gwynneth was arguing loudly with a general of the King’s Guard.
Leu stepped close. Leaning down, he kissed Lucienne’s forehead. Pulling her into a rare hug, he whispered, “Before you go, I just wanted to tell you. I love you, Lucie. And I’m proud of you.”
Lucie’s throat tightened painfully, tears choking her so that she could barely breathe, let alone answer him, but she managed to gasp out, “Love you, too.”
Leu squeezed her so tight her ribs hurt, before reluctantly letting her go. “You’d best leave, before your king forgets his dignity.” He raised his voice and called to Ju-Long, who hurried to his side.
“Yes, sire,” the dragon said.
“Take good care of my daughter.”
“I’ll guard her with my life.”
“I know you will, old friend.”
And with that, Leu turned away to join the discussion at the map table. Lucienne was glad that he did not look back. If he had, he’d have seen his daughter weeping, and that might have unmanned him.
* * *
“Something is wrong,” Lucienne whispered, laying a hand on Ju-Long’s arm to get his attention. He turned to her, his dark eyes guarded.
“There should be traps and deadfalls in these tunnels, but we’ve been walking for hours and I haven’t seen one, or felt any magic signature that might indicate that something is hidden. Have you?”
“No.”
“We have to warn the king.”
“My orders are to get you and the ring safely to Princess Brianna. The king was very clear. Nothing else was to take precedence.”
Lucienne’s eyes darkened and her jaw thrust forward. She spoke softly but passionately. “Ju-Long, we can’t just let this go. If it comes to it, my sister will be queen, with or without the ring, and Faerie and my father are more important than my personal safety. Either we go back or we leave the tunnels and find a messenger, perhaps one of your agents, and send word. Where does the nearest exit let out?”