by M. J. Scott
Bryony halted at the sight of her and I nearly bumped into her from behind.
“Saffron sa’Namiel.” The words were almost a hiss.
The blonde smiled, but the expression in her eyes remained as icy as their color. “Lady Bryony.”
I saw Bryony stiffen slightly. “You are the healer the Seneschal has sent to us?”
“Yes,” Saffron said. Her eyes met mine for a second, then moved back to Bryony. I felt as though I’d been effectively dismissed. “This is the hai’salai I am to treat?”
“Examine,” Bryony corrected coolly. “He isn’t unwell.”
The blonde looked pained. “That remains to be seen. If you could ask him to remove the iron and place it in the receptacle provided”—she pointed at a box made of some dull gray metal that had been set just inside the doorway—“I will begin once it is not interfering with my power.”
Bryony made a soft noise that I thought was a stifled snort. But she didn’t say anything other than to ask me to remove the chain.
Did the iron really interfere as the blonde claimed or was this all just some sort of power game? After all, the Fae healers at St. Giles managed to work around iron. And to live in the City.
But maybe they had become acclimated to its presence. I was a half-breed and it took prolonged direct contact with my skin for iron to affect me. But all half-breeds are different. Holly, for example, had no problem with iron whatsoever. Lucky girl. Though if I had been completely immune to it, Lady only knew what I might use to control my visions, so perhaps my weakness was a good thing.
I took my time as I unfastened the chain and unwound it from my wrist. My skin burned and stung as it was laid bare. For once I couldn’t ignore the bruised and raw-looking state of it. The deep bruises staining my skin made me vaguely ill. I took a deep breath then another as I carried the chain across to the box. It was large enough for ten of my chains, but I simply placed it inside and closed the lid. Almost immediately images flared to life around the blonde’s head, though they were more indistinct than usual.
I stared at her, trying to work out what they were, as if I could focus them by mere concentration.
But as I focused, pain spiked into my head savagely. I winced and looked away.
“Fen?” Bryony said.
“Leave him,” Saffron said sharply. “This is what I need to see.”
I groped my way to a chair and sat abruptly as pain flared again. Gods, it was worse here than it had been back in the City. It felt as though someone was pressing a fiery knife through my right eyeball and up into my brain. The room swam greasily around me and I fought to breathe.
“Fen.” I felt Bryony’s hand on my shoulder. “You need to concentrate.”
“Get Saskia,” I grunted, gritting my teeth. If I couldn’t have my chain, then I needed something to control the pain. Or else I doubted I was going to stay conscious long enough for anyone to examine me.
“Who is Saskia?”
Saffron’s voice sounded closer now.
“The human metalmage,” Bryony said.
“And why does he want her? Are they lovers?”
Don’t answer that, I thought desperately. Then I relaxed when I realized that Bryony didn’t know about Saskia and me.
“No,” Bryony said. “But her power somehow damps his.”
“That is . . . unusual for a human.”
That gave me pause. Did they mean that amongst the Fae there were those who could do what Saskia did?
“She is from an unusual family,” Bryony said dryly. “But perhaps you should attend to your patient rather than talking to me.”
Saffron made a skeptical noise. “I’m going to put my hands on you now, hai’salai,” she said. “Stay still.”
Easier said than done. The pain was still pulsating through me. I wanted to scream, but I clenched my teeth instead, digging my fingers into my thigh.
Cool hands touched my forehead. The pain didn’t recede, but it didn’t get any worse at least. “Interesting,” Saffron murmured. “Such a tangle. I—”
Whatever she had been about to say was cut off by a brisk knock at the door.
“Lady Bryony,” a voice said, “you have been summoned to attend the queen.”
* * *
Bryony at least allowed me to put my chain on before she hurried me back to the chamber where we’d left the others. The iron tamped the pain down to a bearable level, but still, I made a beeline for Saskia and took her hand.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, looking alarmed, her fingers tightening around mine. The rapid disappearance of the pain almost made me gasp.
“Nothing,” I managed.
“The queen has summoned us,” Bryony said. “We need to act quickly.” She looked us over critically. We’d all worn formal clothing for the trip to Summerdale, on the expectation of being able to see the queen as soon as we arrived, but after the hours of travel and waiting we were all a little rumpled.
Apparently Bryony didn’t think we had time to change; she frowned, then came over to each of us in turn and gestured sharply. The wrinkles fell out of our clothing.
I wished she could do the same for my brain. Saskia’s touched helped soothe me, but I was still drained after the pain and was not looking forward to this next stage of our journey. Plus, part of me was wondering exactly what Saffron had meant by “a tangle” and whether or not she might be able to cure me.
I’d resisted coming to Summerdale, but now that I was finally here, the idea of a cure for the pain of my visions was enticing. A normal life . . . one where I didn’t have to cripple myself with iron and alcohol. What might that be like?
I looked at Saskia, at the fingers twined through mine, and caught my breath again at just how much I wanted to believe that it might be a possibility. That maybe, just maybe, I could be whole. That I could be good enough for her.
Bryony finished with Liam and gestured for us to follow her. I expected that we would be going back to the courtyard and the carriage, but I should have known that things in the Veiled World wouldn’t work that way. Instead we went through the house and out into a formal garden, with rows of neat hedges that formed intricate patterns lining garden beds full of more odd flowers in a hundred shades of white.
In the center of the garden, bordered by four square knots of hedge, was a narrow gate that gleamed dull gold in the still, sullen light of the overcast sky.
Bryony led us up to the gate and then paused before it. “Once we pass through the gate we will be in the court,” she said, voice serious. “You will follow my lead and not speak unless the queen or I request you to, understand me? A wrong word might damage our case permanently. The queen’s mood is dark.”
I didn’t know how she knew this, but as if to underscore her point, a low rumble of thunder rolled around us. Saskia moved a little closer to me. I wasn’t going to argue with that. Bryony sighed as she inspected us one last time and then we went through the gate.
* * *
I held Saskia’s hand as I stepped underneath the metal gate, but as my foot hit the white marble beyond, I was alone. I whirled, but there was no gate to be seen behind me. Just a vast square of marble that stretched for what had to be a mile or more, fading into different landscapes on each of its four sides.
Where the hell were the others?
Damn the Fae and their tricks.
Maybe it was an illusion—a test.
Think, Fen.
I lifted my right hand to reach into my pocket, where I’d tucked some charms, but as I did so I noticed that my chain had vanished.
Shit.
I braced myself for the wave of pain, but it didn’t come.
“I am blocking your pain.”
I whirled again. The owner of the voice was standing behind me, gray, gray veils covering her face and floating around her body, though there was not a breath of wind to move them. The only color came from the jewels on her hands, rings covering the first knuckle on each of her fingers. Except for her l
eft ring finger. That one was bare.
Or was it?
I blinked as one of the veils swept across her fingers, reminding me exactly who this woman was. The Veiled Queen.
I bowed deeply. “Your Majesty.”
“Pretty manners, for a hai’salai.” Her voice was somehow gray too. Gray like granite or storm clouds or the depths of a winter ocean. Full of power and the potential for pain.
I straightened, cautiously. “Might I ask where my companions are, Your Majesty?”
“They are safe enough. I wanted to see you for myself.” She walked a few steps closer and I fought the distinct desire to move backward in response.
“Brave, aren’t you?” the queen said. “Don’t you know the tales about me?” Her veils darkened a little and I fought a shudder. I knew enough to understand that if those veils turned black I probably wasn’t going to leave this place alive.
“I know that you are a great queen,” I said through a mouth gone horribly dry. “That you have worked for the peace we all value so highly and helped the City greatly.”
Her head tilted. “Value? Value so much that someone killed my Speaker?”
“That wasn’t me,” I said hastily. “Or anyone that I know.”
“How do you know?” she said. “Have you seen?” She stretched out a hand toward me, not quite touching me. “Such a muddle inside that head of yours. How did those powers get so twisted? Yet they are strong. Tell me, hai’salai, have you seen?”
The visions roared around me then, driving me to my knees with a shuddering gasp. Blood. Fire. And the faces of the DuCaines whirling around me. Saskia. Guy. Simon. The City blackened and burning. The Treaty Hall exploding and the Speaker falling. Me with my head in my hands and a bottle of brandy, alone in an empty room, tears rolling down my face. And Ignatius smiling through it all. The images speared through my head like shards of jagged glass and I cried out.
Then they vanished, taking the pain with them.
“What did you see?” the queen asked.
I swallowed hard, willing my heart to slow, not certain that the memory of the pain wouldn’t yet make me retch. Then I told her.
“Ignatius Grey,” she said, veils shading darker still. “This one troubles me.”
“Then you should return to the negotiations, Your Majesty. Because otherwise there is little to stop Ignatius Grey from seizing the power he wants.”
She sighed then. A dusty sound like wind across stone. “Why should I care? What has this treaty gained me? Other than death and care and trouble.”
“You lost someone close to you,” I said. “And that is a grief—” More of a grief to a Fae perhaps, who would live many, many years longer than any human. Perhaps the losses eventually grew too hard to bear. “But there will be more losses if you do not return to the negotiations.”
“Not my losses.”
“There are Fae in the City, Your Majesty. Fae who may die.” Or worse. Saskia had told me what Adeline had said about Ignatius taking Fae women. That couldn’t be for any good purpose. But looking at the queen and the deepening gray of her veils, I didn’t feel like raising the subject.
“True. Though your visions are a tangle. Who knows if you even see truly?”
“I may not see the whole truth but I have seen my visions come to pass often enough to know that I see at least a part.”
“Perhaps.” Her head tilted. “And you insist on looking despite the pain. That is interesting.”
“I don’t have a lot of choice in the matter.”
“You wear iron. And you chase them away using other methods. That is a choice of sorts.”
“It doesn’t always work,” I said.
“The question is, what choice would you make if there was no pain? If you had control?”
For a second her veils lightened and I thought I caught a glimpse of greenish eyes, the color reminding me of Holly’s. But it was gone in a flash, the veils turning to writhing dark again.
“I don’t know,” I said honestly. If I could choose whether or not to see? Part of me thought I would never look again. But what if control meant clarity . . . a way to be able to truly see—to be able to trust my power? Then my life could be very different.
Or it could drive me mad.
Knowing the future was very overrated.
“Perhaps we will find out.” The queen snapped her fingers and suddenly I was no longer alone. Bryony and Liam and Saskia stood with us.
“Fen!” Saskia hurried to my side. “Where did you go?” She threw her arms around me. “I thought you were lost.”
“Not lost.” The queen’s voice sounded almost amused.
Saskia let me go, stepping back abruptly as though she suddenly remembered where we were. She dropped into a deep curtsy, bowing her head. Bryony did the same and Liam bowed. I stayed straight. The queen had already had me on my knees. She didn’t need any more obeisance from me just now.
“Bryony sa’Eleniel,” the queen said. “Why have you sought my counsel?”
Bryony came out of the curtsy with the grace that only a Fae can muster. “My Queen,” she said. “I bring a petition from the human delegation. A plea for you to recommence the negotiations.”
“Have they found the proof I need?”
“No, Your Majesty. But as you will not allow them access to the Treaty Hall, I’m not sure how you expect them to uncover the true culprit behind the explosion.”
The queen’s veils swirled faster. “Your time outside our realm has made you bold, sa’Eleniel.”
Bryony lifted her chin. “My time in the City has taught me to value the humans. They want the treaty and the peace. They need it. They would not put it in jeopardy.”
“No? Even when some of them are pursuing avenues that might be unlawful?”
Fuck. The queen knew about Simon and the cure. My stomach dropped and I glanced at Saskia, who had turned pale.
Bryony, however, seemed unsurprised. “That need not destroy the peace. It may require some . . . adjustment, but the humans do not wish to destroy the Blood.”
Just Ignatius and his cronies.
“Be that as it may, why should I return when those who caused my Speaker’s death go unpunished?”
“Without the treaty there will be more deaths. And little chance of bringing anyone to justice,” Bryony said. “You know this, Your Majesty. Ignatius Grey is grasping for power. He is killing those who oppose him in the Blood Court. Even now there are Blood under Haven in the Templar Brother House. The City needs you. Needs your protection.”
“And what about what I need?”
The words came like a whiplash, raw with pain. Grief again. Deeper, perhaps, than affection for her Speaker would explain. Love might be closer to the truth.
“The humans are willing to assist you in finding justice for your loss. They will do whatever it takes.”
The veils stilled, holding motionless in the air. “Are you asking me to name a price?”
“No, I am telling you that the humans hold true to the bonds of friendship between our races.”
“But what if I do have a price?”
Bryony blinked. “My Queen?”
“If I want something in return for my cooperation?”
“We will of course endeavor to do what is in our power—,” Bryony began.
“What I want is not in your power to grant,” the queen snapped. Her head turned slowly and dread swept over me as her veiled gaze settled on me. “I have need of a seer. My Speaker is lost to me and I need someone who sees truly. I do not trust my court right now.”
“Your Majesty—” Bryony tried again.
“This one.” The queen nodded at me. “If this one will swear service to me, stay with me here in Summerdale, then I will rejoin the negotiations.”
“No!” Saskia’s cry was as pained as the queen’s had been earlier. I met her eyes and then suddenly another vision rolled over me. I saw myself refusing, saw myself leaving with the others. Saw the queen’s veils turning b
lack. And saw the death that would result if I didn’t agree to what she wanted.
Saskia’s death.
The queen had decided she wanted me, for whatever purpose. She would brook no rivals for my loyalty.
Saskia.
Grief closed my throat. She wouldn’t give up on me. And if she tried, then she would die. I saw it a hundred ways. Knew that there was only one way to stop it.
I had to break her heart. Make her hate me.
Had to lose the hope of a future I had let myself believe in.
There was no other way.
The visions left me in a rush and I knew what I had to do. The smile I summoned made my face hurt, as though my body fought me.
“Of course I will stay, Your Majesty,” I said. “It would be my pleasure.”
“Fen. No!” Saskia’s voice choked and Liam flung an arm around her to hold her back as she lunged toward me.
I stepped back.
Away from her. Toward the queen.
It hurt like walking on broken glass.
“You misunderstand,” I said. “It’s not a case of having to. I want to. Why do you think I came here?” I made the words lazy, careless. “The queen can cure me. Free me.” I made myself smile at the veiled figure with some approximation of pleasure. It was an expression I had practiced many times on the women who flocked to the Swallow. It came easily enough, despite the loathing I felt.
“Besides, she can keep me safe. It’s not a question of choice, Prentice DuCaine. It’s a question of what’s best for me. And what’s best for me is right here. What, did you think I came here out of that same misguided need to save the world that you DuCaines seem to harbor?”
“You—” Saskia spat and Liam pulled her against him, turning her head into his chest so that she didn’t finish the sentence. His face was contemptuous as he stared at me. Bryony’s expression was equally disgusted.
I felt a small sense of victory—they believed me. Which meant Saskia would be safe. Lost to me. But safe. It had to be enough.
I turned back to the queen. “I offer you service, Your Majesty,” I said and dropped to my knees, bowing my head because I couldn’t bear to see Saskia any longer.