Guards streamed in. All were dressed and several carried swords. It was the ones who didn't that worried Nicholas. They had long fingers, and even longer nails. Foot Soldiers, who could kill with a single touch. He repressed a shudder. He had seen their work before.
Twenty-five soldiers came into the room, and lined the walls. He supposed he should be honored. The Black King did consider Nicholas and his family a threat.
Nicholas went to Sebastian and put his arm around the boy. No matter what Arianna planned, there was no guarantee that Sebastian could move quickly enough to be saved. There wasn't even a guarantee that one of the Black King's soldiers wouldn't kill her.
Solanda had killed Rugar with no repercussions. It could happen again.
If Nicholas got a chance, he would try to talk Arianna out of trying anything. He would negotiate with the Black King, and if that failed, he would wait until the man died, and hope that his children made the right choices. At least they would lead the Fey, at least Blue Isle would remain in the family.
And, he supposed, that was all that mattered now.
Everything else was lost.
SEVENTY-THREE
Flurry hovered over the empty road. It was growing dark. His wings were tired. He hadn't flown this much in Nye. He doubted he had flown this much in his entire life.
And now Cinder was gone, leaving no clue as to where she went.
He shouldn't have left her. He knew better. He knew so much better. And yet he had. He had thought that she couldn't mistake these instructions, that she would understand the importance of them, that she would at least have left some sort of trail.
But he had been so cocky and confident when he spoke to her. He would be able to find them, he had said. He would know where they had gone.
Well, he had been up and down this road twice, he had checked the surrounding farms, and he hadn't seen anything.
The growing darkness was casting a blue shadow on the land, making everything very difficult to see. He couldn't make out details any more, where the road ended and where it began.
He couldn't see. And the Foot Soldiers would arrive at any moment, ready to take their prisoner.
They had none.
He would report to Rugad a Failure.
We had your great-grandson and then we lost him.
Flurry shuddered at the thought.
He flew lower. The rows of corn were broken slightly by what seemed like a trail. He had followed it before, and he was going to follow it again. He wouldn't be a Failure. He wouldn't let Rugad kill him as he did other Failures.
He just wouldn't.
He paused. Time to assume the worst. The boy was of Black Blood. What if he were worth Rugad's pursuit? What if he had seen Cinder and knew what she was? According to Wisdom, the boy had been raised by Wisps. He would know how to elude them.
And how did one evade a Wisp?
Look unobtrusive from the sky. Hide in something. Go inside. A Shadowlands wouldn't work because a Wisp would be the first to spot it.
The soldiers could always go an extra distance. He could bring them back, blame them on being unable to see him.
He could buy a little more time if he needed it.
The cornfield was his best and only bet.
He swooped lower, cursing the failing light. In the twilight, the broken corn looked like a river of blood in the middle of a moonlit sea. He already knew what was on the other side. A farm. The boy wouldn't be stupid enough to hide on a farm.
Would he?
Or was that wisdom? Wasn't that just the game that Rugad would play? Take the expected, use it to his own advantage.
Flurry flew lower, and let himself glow, casting a tiny light on the trail below him. On the other side of the corn, a haystack. Then another, and another, all the way to the grain silo. Beyond that, the farmhouse itself.
He flew around the house first. The farmer, his wife, and five children were eating dinner, oblivious to the battle being fought across their land. They wouldn't be that calm if they were hiding fugitives. They wouldn't be eating that much if they knew about the invasion.
The house had no cellar, no basement, no underground hiding spot, at least not one he could see from the outside. And he needed to be able to see it from the outside, otherwise someone in that house had to be hiding the boy, and no one was.
He flew to the silo next.
It had three small windows, all of them at various levels in the silo. He peered in each, then flew in the lowest one.
The silo was empty. Wisps of grain littered the bottom of the bin, waiting for fall harvest. All of the grain normally stored here was either eaten or sold.
The boy couldn't be in here unless he was capable of changing size, like Wisp, or Shifting to a tiny form. And, according to all Flurry knew, the boy couldn't do either.
That left the haystacks.
If he plunged in them, and the boy was hiding there, the boy would see Flurry and disappear before the Foot Soldiers arrived. Flurry had to look for something out of the ordinary.
If Flurry were hiding, he would take the center stack. Not too close to the farmhouse, but not too far either. Not too close to the corn, but not too far.
He swooped as low as he could get. The first stack wasn't really mounded. It was tied. Several bundles of hay stacked together and bound individually around the middle. Then they leaned against each other for support. A few strands of hay on the ground, but nothing much. Nothing more than the wind could knock free.
But the center stack. The center stack wasn't organized. It had several bundles in the middle, but they didn't seem to be leaning on anything. The twine around them appeared to be loosely tied. And there was hay all over the ground, hay of all sizes, much of it broken and trampled.
He hesitated a moment, ready to go in to look. But he could hear the soldiers now, marching on the other side. If the boy wasn't here, he'd let the soldiers play with the farm family. That would occupy them while Flurry searched again.
But he knew he wouldn't have to.
His search was over.
THE CONFRONTATION
SEVENTY-FOUR
The dizzy feeling he'd had after the series of Visions was back, behind his eyes. Rugad rubbed them. He had been on edge ever since then, but that strain seemed to be growing worse.
Rugad stood in the Great Hall surveying the weapons wall. Even though this was not his headquarters it was, he decided, his favorite room in the palace. It was the only one which had a Fey feel to it. And he suspected that feel had come from the weapons still displayed on the walls.
He didn't like the morale he was encountering among his people. They seemed at best startled by the near-reversal, and at worst frightened of it. They seemed to think the Islanders had more powers than any other force the Fey had ever met.
If he left the rumors unchecked, they would only grow. And he knew that once they grew, once they became big, they would have a power all their own.
He had to nip it now.
He had chosen, as his headquarters the very room that Nicholas had been captured in. The man had an instinct for fighting, a good natural instinct. The room, although it was open on all sides because of that bubbled glass, also provided a perfect view of the city and, Rugad suspected, an imperfect view of the areas beyond. It was large enough to use as a meeting hall, and small enough that a man alone didn't feel overwhelmed.
The broken window was covered with a tapestry. He would get a Domestic on all the windows in the morning, to get rid of the glass, and to put in Fey glass and make it defensively spelled.
The rest of the palace would need work of a kind he didn't have time for yet. He would let the Domestics remove much of the Islander's personal items, but he would put them in storage. There was still much he didn't know about this culture, much that he needed to know, and he suspected some of this material would help him with that.
He had been startled, though, to find Jewel's portrait in a gallery filled with portraits of round
, doughy blue-eyed, blond-haired women. Queens, and future queens, he suspected. He had stood before her for a long time, wishing he had done right by his granddaughter. He should have kept her on Nye, and let Rugar destroy himself. But Rugad had had the vain hope that Jewel could pull it out, that she could take Blue Isle and save Rugad the trouble.
She had done the best she could under startling circumstances. At least she had left Rugad with two children from whom he could choose his own successor. The one thing he had learned in all his years of rule was that without a trusted successor, he was nothing.
He had the successor now. The problem would be trusting him.
Or her.
He hoped they were more Fey than Islander. He hoped they would understand the value in the Fey Empire, and understand the kind of greatness it took to lead such an enterprise.
If Jewel's children proved not to be up to his expectations, he didn't know what he'd do. The grandsons he had left on Nye were nothing. They weren't even exemplary Fey. They had, surprisingly even to him, let him go, thinking that he would get stuck on Blue Isle and they would get the rule by default.
They hadn't even thought through what would happen if he took the Isle. Or if he found Jewel's children. And like Rugar, their Vision was sloppy. The difference was that Rugar's had started good and gone down. Theirs was starting in a bad place, and could only deteriorate.
So much rode on these great-grandchildren. And yet, now that he had one in his grasp, he was hesitant to approach her. He didn't want to find out that she was similar to her uncles on Nye. He didn't want to know that she wouldn't work as a successor.
Because that only left the great-grandson as yet unfound. And Rugad liked having two choices instead of one. At least with the thought of two, he might have a chance.
Still, he hadn't gotten where he was by agonizing over worries. He had gotten half a continent, and now this Isle, by taking action. And the action was to finally meet his great-granddaughter, and to begin the process of wooing her over to his side.
In that, he was uncertain. He had never wooed before, and never with such purpose. His wife had felt honored being chosen by a member of the Black Family, as had every other woman he'd been with since she died. His people listened to him, and other rulers he conquered. The idea of cajoling someone, of coaxing them to his side was as foreign as the customs on Blue Isle.
And then there was the problem of her father. The man was too smart. He had mounted a counterattack that, while not successful, had still hurt Rugad's people. And he had stopped the Fey once before. He had seduced Jewel, and he had more knowledge of the Fey than most.
And even more important, he was King. That carried a great deal of weight. Displaced rulers brought with them hope that they would rule again. In the past, it had always been Rugad's practice to kill a popular ruler, to stifle hope then and there.
But before he could make a decision about Nicholas, he had to see if Nicholas's daughter was attached to him. If she was, then Nicholas's death might count against Rugad. And he couldn't have that.
Too many questions, and none of them would be answered in the Hall. He was only using his time here to worry at problems he couldn't solve, at least not without more information.
He took a deep breath. The confrontation awaited. He had no idea what to expect.
He crossed the corridor and stopped outside the audience hall. Most of his guards were already inside. The others he had sent for stood outside. It was a measure of Nicholas's skill that Rugad would go in so heavily guarded that no man could get near him.
The guards were a mixture of Foot Soldiers, Infantry and Beast Riders. The Riders were dressed and looked fresh. None of them appeared to have fought the battle earlier in the day.
Rugad turned to them. "Don't harm any of the prisoners," he said, "no matter what they do. But make certain they do not get near me."
The guards nodded. They had probably not needed the instruction, but he had given it for his peace of mind. Then with a sweep of both hands, he yanked the door open and went in.
His presence always caused consternation, and this time was no different. The guards inside backed away slightly. But the three forms in the middle of the room didn't seem too concerned. Rugad paused near the door, letting his own guards sweep around him until they reached their uniform position.
And he watched.
The room was long and narrow. A dais stood above everything, with a crest, which surprised him. The image on the crest surprised him even more. Two swords crossed over a heart. He had seen the reverse of the same image in his only trip to the Eccrasian Mountains decades before. Two hearts pieced by a single sword. The oddness of it startled him.
The emotion only lasted an instant, but that was long enough for the Islander King to take advantage of the situation. He bowed, then swept up, easily the smallest man in the room. His yellow hair shone like a beacon among all the dark scalps.
"You must be my wife's grandfather," King Nicholas said in passable Fey.
Advantage to the Islander. The girl beside him drew closer. She was clearly half-breed. The Fey features always emerged strongest, but she had the look of her father about her face. Odd to think that when she had a narrow chin and upswept Fey features. But her skin was light, and her eyes pale. The birthmark flared off that pale skin like a brand.
In her eyes, though, Rugad saw Jewel. Determination, intelligence, and anger. He mentally saluted all three.
They pleased him.
He let the silence hang between them. It was the only way he could regain control of the situation. And he used it, not just to examine the girl, but also to look at the Golem.
It appeared alive enough. He had never seen such an animated Golem before. The person behind it was clearly powerful. But it had cracked once, shatter lines running along its face and into its clothing. Its eyes were bright too. He had only seen one Golem like it, a Golem fed with such power that it lived long after its animator was dead. His grandfather's Golem. The old man had used it to rule in areas that he couldn't monitor. It was a second pair of eyes. He'd tried to do the same with a another Golem, but it spread his power too thin. And, some said, the first Golem was jealous.
This one watched him with an intensity that had a threat to it. The Golem was guarding something, but what Rugad didn't know.
Yet.
"Girl," he said, deciding that ignoring the King was the best course. "What's your name?"
She glanced at her father. The look was small, but it told Rugad enough. They were Bound. Rugad would have to tread lightly.
"In my country," she said, her chin outstretched, eyes flashing blue, "It's discourteous to ignore the King."
Rugad suppressed a smile. She had even more spirit than he had hoped for. "I have conquered your country. You no longer have a King." He paused just enough for that sentence to sink in. Then he said, "I asked your name."
"A man does not conquer a country simply because he declares it so," the girl said. Her father touched her arm. She shrugged him off. So, the father was a bit overwhelmed by his impulsive daughter. Even better. Mighty King Nicholas had a weakness.
"No, he does not," Rugad said. "He conquers by bringing in an invading army of overwhelming proportions, destroying the religion, burning the only city of note, and capturing the King. Now, girl, your name."
"Her name is Arianna," King Nicholas said. He did not look bowed or intimidated by Rugad's strength despite the interaction. He looked more like a man with an understanding of, and a dislike for, games.
This time, Rugad permitted the smile. "A name with history. Did Jewel choose it?"
"Jewel died as Arianna was being born."
"You can't tell me that you chose such a distinguished Fey name for your daughter by luck."
"No," Nicholas said. "No luck. I had good advice."
The guards were shifting. The movements were slight, but Rugad noted them. He was not facing a hostile enemy. He was facing one with a great deal of knowledg
e about the Fey. He had to acknowledge that.
"You married my granddaughter."
"She was a remarkable woman."
"And your people murdered her."
A shadow passed over the King's face. He still mourned her. He had loved her. Rugad had not expected that. He had expected a marriage of convenience, nothing more.
"One man murdered her," Nicholas said. "He was dealt with."
The phrase was vague. There was a story behind it, one that Rugad did not have time for.
"You expect special treatment because you married her," Rugad said, keeping his voice firm. "Because your blood flows in the body of my great-granddaughter?"
Nicholas was silent for a moment, his features smooth. The roundness of his face made him appear younger than he was, still a boy, yet another way to underestimate him. "When," he asked, "did I ask for special treatment?"
There was a faint note of contempt in his voice, just enough for Rugad to hear it, and faint enough for him to claim he had never meant any disrespect.
"You asked for a meeting," Rugad said.
"It is customary in my land for rulers to meet and negotiate."
"When have you had the chance to meet or negotiate with anyone?"
"I negotiated with Jewel," Nicholas said.
Again, point to the Islander. Despite himself, Rugad liked this young King. Perhaps some of Arianna's spirit came from her father as well.
"So," Nicholas continued without much of a pause, "you're the one in error here."
The guards shifted again. A few looked at each other. Rugad noted the movements. No one spoke to the Black King that way.
No one.
"My people have already made an alliance with the Fey. You had no cause to come into our country, burn our city, attack our Tabernacle or hold me hostage."
"An alliance?" Rugad said softly. "My people don't make alliances."
"Your granddaughter did." Nicholas took his daughter's arm and pulled her close. "My children are proof of that. This Isle is already part of the Fey Empire. By blood."
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