Bones of the Fair

by Host, Andrea K

  "Through those trees there? I can't see anyone."

  Aspen raised himself on tiptoe atop a borrowed chair and strained his eyes for any sign of the objects of his intense interest. Gentian, still moving far from easily, had decided to conclude her morning with a walk up the hill to what she called Goldenrod's Heart, and she'd taken Aristide along to keep her upright. There would undoubtedly be a most affecting scene, and who was he to pass up a chance to glimpse the Diamond being romantic?

  "Come down from there."

  Leton. A piece of magnificence standing impatient and assured at his feet.

  "Are you suggesting I should be looking at you instead?"

  "I'm suggesting you should give the man some privacy. And save me the trouble of picking you off the floor."

  Aspen hesitated, then obligingly stepped off the chair, so that he came down with a scarce inch to spare between them, and could look more directly into dark eyes. Still faintly contemptuous, but there was more to it now, Aspen was sure of that. Just a hint of reaction, of charge.

  "Are you going to kiss?"

  The bright, interested question emanated from a spot roughly level with Aspen's right elbow, and he flinched away, moving hastily to gain some distance from the younger of the Cyan princesses.

  Laeth Varpatten, who had been helpfully showing Aspen the best way to spy on his daughter, dropped to his haunches before the girl.

  "Are you lost? Who are you looking for?"

  "The Darien king. He's supposed to invite Mama and Mama-la to his festival."

  Aspen was reasonably certain the divine Aluster wanted nothing more than to send all Cyans hurtling over the border at record speed, but was saved from tactful attempts to point this out by the appearance of the girl's older sister.

  "Kassen! Why must you–! I'm sorry. Somehow she always finds a way to slip off."

  "But you want to go too, Dess." The mercurial younger girl's face crumpled. "You want to go too."

  With an air of long practice, Princess Desseron folded her suddenly weeping sister to her chest. "Kassen's just glad that your daughter came back," she told Laeth Varpatten. "She...she is properly better now, right?"

  "I believe so, yes. It is a difficult time for her at the moment, but the first step was the largest." Magister Varpatten produced a conspiratorial little grin. "And if you want an invitation from King Aluster, here is your opportunity."

  King Aluster, following Princess Aloren into the breakfast room, was not quick enough to escape a tear-streaked Cyan princess. He managed not to grit his teeth as an invitation was duly extracted, but gave Magister Varpatten a less-than-pleased glance after the girls had left.

  "Another assassination attempt or two will certainly enliven the festival."

  "I understand they witnessed the attack on my daughter," Magister Varpatten replied serenely. "It will be a kindness to reassure them."

  "And, for all Queen Rithana's game of heirs, Kestia is most likely to succeed her. There are opportunities in the ties built there." Aloren ignored King Aluster's muted scowl, crossing to survey Aspen. "Sit down please."

  He didn't want to do it. There had to be another crisis or two to deal with. What were they all doing here, wasting time on something irrelevant, when the steading was heaving with mages and royalty tried beyond bearing?

  A firm grip on his shoulder took away argument, guiding him into the chair he'd been using as a footstool.

  "Hand," Leton ordered.

  Squeezing his eyes shut, Aspen pulled his right hand from his pocket and held it out.

  Silence.

  It went on too long, enough to panic him, to pile rocks in his stomach, stuff cotton in his throat, and finally to crack one eyelid, just enough so that he too could look.

  The sight made it impossible not to move to shove the thing back in his pocket, but Leton caught him below the wrist and held firm.

  "Careful!" Aspen gasped, but Leton's grip didn't waver.

  "There is no sign of anything similar to the life-draining effect suffered by that unfortunate Fae," Magister Varpatten said, correctly guessing Aspen's primary concern.

  Aspen took another glance. Squinting did not make it any less horrible. Silvery skin, similar to the dot in the centre of his left palm, spread like an old burn scar over most of his right hand, giving it a crinkled appearance, like paper that had been wet and then dried. And everywhere his skin had come in contact with the weapon there was an absence, a haze like dark smoke, and a suggestion of depth, as if those parts of his hand had become a window on to some place else, somewhere cold, and desperately lonely.

  "Can you feel this? This?"

  "I...it's just cold. It's like holding ice with edges."

  "Painful? Hm. Well, in the first instance we should do something about that. A little selective deadening of the flesh immediately surrounding this less tangible region. It appears stable, and is not actively drawing on your strength. It will take some experimentation to establish what exactly is occurring, but I see no transformative effect on yourself or objects you touch, so I'll have you rest first. I would very much like to examine the weapon that did this."

  "Given that the Tzel Aviar tells me that their precious city is forbidden to humans, that might be difficult." King Aluster rubbed the back of his neck, clearly having had his fill of the Fair. "They don't want us anywhere near it. He's not even able to talk to me about it, beyond a few oblique observations, which...Sun, I could have strangled him a dozen times these past few days. Why must the Fair choke themselves with Bans? And in this case a Ban set by a former Queen, making it twice as difficult to overturn. The only thing he has cared to be direct about at all is you, Choraide."

  "Me? What?" Aspen opened his eyes properly.

  "That cloth-mouthed...Tzel Damaris saw fit to inform me that it would be several weeks before a ruling could be made on whether you needed to be handed over to them for the murder of one of the People."

  "What? But–!" Black spots hazed Aspen's sight. Handed over to the Fair? Him?

  "The fact that she arranged it herself, and it was done to avert disaster, is apparently beside the point." The King eyed him restively, then switched his attention to Leton. "Delmar, was it?"

  "Arleton Delmar, formerly of Sorania." There was no concern in a Phoenix's voice.

  "I'm looking for someone to escort my ambassador on a reciprocal visit to Atlarus, joining Aurak Bes when he returns after the festival. Would you be available?"

  "Perhaps. How is this related?"

  The King was, amazingly, again studying Aspen. "The role seems a more suitable use of his particular talents than playing Aristide's apprentice."

  Aspen gaped. Never had he had a day of such extremes. The worst thing he had ever done, and then that scene out on the grass, where the Diamond had bowed his head to him. And now…could the divine Aluster be joking?

  "You'll need to learn High Atlar, of course, but the Aurak has offered one of his Hapts to guide you about, and she'll tutor you." The King frowned down at him. "It may be a tour of a year or two, until we can clarify the intentions of the Fair. Think you can manage it?"

  Serious diplomacy? But a mere reciprocal visit, with such a distant power, would be more a series of parties than negotiations. He would need new clothes. He would miss Soren – but also that awkward time revolving around a squalling infant. And...was it Rua who would be their guide? With a Phoenix, in attendance on him.

  The smile he gave his king was brimful.

  "I'll try my absolute best to be of use."

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  The walk had caused the pins-and-needle sensation to recede, but Gentian still did not feel like she belonged in her own body. The effort to keep hold of it had not decreased, while the need to sleep grew stronger. She was hoping that the visit to Goldenrod's Heart would centre her, and complete her transition back to life.

  Aristide had chosen to fill the walk with a more detailed account of all that had happened while Gentian had been dead, and s
he listened without comment, enjoying his dry observations while working through the unpleasant implications of the current situation.

  "I can still feel the malison," she said, as they started up the last rise toward the source of Goldenrod's water. "But – there is a difference."

  "There is a very good chance that Selvar provided an anchor for it. It's unlikely to disperse entirely of its own accord, but I have several plans for countermeasure, now that I have a better understanding of...the shaping of places."

  He was going to concede on her plans for Vostal Hill. If she had more energy she'd be delighted.

  "No sign of a Skremmish invasion?"

  "Not as yet. It's possible that Meneth was stupid enough to send the Sun's Knot on to Tor Darest, but forewarned we can move quickly to get it out of our borders."

  "Do you intend any reprisals?"

  He didn't answer immediately. Instead, as they reached the top of the slope he began fashioning one of the more complex shields. Gentian glanced at the round-leafed lorams, sheltering a spring burbling out of a fissure of stone. Water spread widely over a flat shelf of rock, and fell in a sheet over the lip. As Aristide constructed his shield, she slipped off her mother's soft shoes and used all her concentration to walk alone into the sun-dappled water. Every step brought a faint shift in temperature as she walked to the very edge of the rock and stopped in a swirl of warmth and cold, gazing out over her beloved home, and beyond that the Skorese, missing one peak.

  Goldenrod wrapped itself around her. It was no longer at the high pitch of awareness that had greeted her revival, but remained powerfully focused on her. Gentian allowed its delight to give her strength, to buoy her up and fill her.

  And then she hastily pulled away, clamping down on her body with everything she had. That had been a mistake. Instead of reinforcing her link to her physical form, Goldenrod had almost drawn her out of it.

  She focused on breathing, determined not to give in. Yes, she had broken her sworn word returning, but how unfair to not be able to see through her design for Vostal Hill, or to discover why Princess Aloren seemed to know her parents so well. Especially to be denied more time at Goldenrod, with Aristide Couerveur.

  If she could not achieve that through willpower alone, there were several castings she could attempt, and if they weren't successful then there was a convenient collection of mages to consult. Living magic was irritatingly resistant to arcane, but perhaps a binding enchantment would get her through the rest of the day...

  Aristide wrapped his arms around her.

  Startled, though far from displeased, Gentian leaned back into warmth, strength, the faint scent of long-preserved Fae soap, and the tickle of his breath.

  "That...that's actually helping."

  "Of course. Life calls to life. Now that the reaction pain you were feeling is gone, this should allow you to reclaim yourself.

  A sadly prosaic reason to be embracing her, but his arms tightened, and he bent his head so that his cheek pressed against hers, making clear this was not pragmatism. Aristide was an extremely self-contained man with a very distinct presence, and though he had had as much chance as she to defeat It while It haunted Darest, his determination was more than enough to combine with hers and sweep away the last traces of an angry ghost.

  Finally, her true homecoming. No longer struggling, no longer hurting, all sense of slime washed away. She stood in Goldenrod's Heart and, through their contact, made Goldenrod particularly aware of this person who had become a part of her. And, for a moment, she felt an echo of something vastly larger than her steading.

  "You truly do have Crown bond."

  "For years now. Darest is mine. It will always be mine."

  "And yet you accepted a Rathen on the throne?"

  "The advantage to Darest was too great to pass up. Pride is not worth crushing the things most precious to you." The tiniest exhalation followed, and she knew that that choice had not come without cost. And then he went on to answer her earlier question.

  "Queen Rithana is the motive force behind most of the current attacks, and removing her will direct Cya's energies elsewhere. Arrangements are in place, waiting for the appointment of one of the more tolerable of her children as heir. It will appear a natural death."

  Gentian recognised this as both a gesture of immense trust, and Aristide making clear exactly who he was. The person with his arms around her had enemies, and a reputation for dealing with them. The idea of murdering people for political gain was not one she was ever likely to be comfortable with, but she could hardly say it was an unreasonable response to repeated attacks.

  "Do you assassinate people often?" she asked, needing to know how far a step over her own personal lines she was facing.

  "Once before. I prefer methods along the line of what you did today. But it is clear that Queen Rithana will continue to interfere with Darest."

  It was never a good idea to fail to kill an inventive mage. And not necessarily wise to become important to one. Gentian's relatively carefree life of the last fourteen years would most certainly become complicated if she added Aristide to it, and that wasn't even considering the Couerveur family's famed instability. That might be the result of ruling a twice-cursed kingdom, or might be an inevitable tragedy, and she rather suspected she didn't care.

  "I hear we're engaged."

  A scarcely noticeable tension dropped from the man who held her, and then his arms tightened. "Yes."

  "As best I can make out you've taken me saying that 'you almost reconcile me to being trapped in Darest' as a proposal?"

  "It was certainly a singular declaration."

  "And showing me a garden was you saying yes?"

  "You understood me."

  She laughed, and felt well and whole and happier than she ever had in her life. "You are so very entertaining, Aristide. Of course, there could be no other interpretation. How dim of me to think that you were simply suggesting we get to know each other better."

  He let her go, only to circle and stand on the very rim of the pool, so that those blue and ice eyes blocked out the world. "What need do I have for half-measures? If I care for you enough to speak at all, I care for you completely."

  It was only after long kisses that he added: "You almost made the prospect of exile bearable."

  ooOoo

  Thank you for reading

  Bones of the Fair

  For information about

  other books by

  Andrea K Höst

  visit

  www.andreakhost.com

  Books by Andrea K Höst

  Fantasy:

  Arabaya

  Hunting

  Darest

  Champion of the Rose

  Bones of the Fair

  Eferum

  Stained Glass Monsters

  Medair

  Part 1: The Silence of Medair

  Part 2: Voice of the Lost

  (Collected together as The Medair Duology)

  Science Fiction:

  Sydney Apocalyptica

  And All the Stars

  The Touchstone Trilogy

  Part 1: Stray

  Part 2: Lab Rat One

  Part 3: Caszandra

  Part extra: Gratuitous Epilogue