The True Queen

by Zen Cho

  We shall all be torched to a crisp! thought Muna.

  “Step out of the way, ma’am!” she cried, addressing Georgiana. She did not wait for the naga to respond but stabbed Damerell in the wing with the hairpin she had found in her robes.

  Damerell cried out and retracted his wing, glaring down at Muna. “Miss Muna, you are in danger of causing me to lose my temper!”

  “I am sorry!” said Muna, whisking the hairpin out of sight. She had hoped some remnant of the Sorceress Royal’s charm would have clung to it, but the magic had evidently faded. “But I had to try. Oh, sir, if you knew—!”

  “I cannot understand you,” said Damerell crossly. “I can only suppose you nourish romantic dreams of dying a spectacular death, for I do not know why else you should want to go to the Fairy Court, knowing . . .”

  A distant look came over Damerell’s countenance. He blinked, licking his lips.

  “Knowing . . . what awaits you there . . .” he said. A shiver went along his person.

  Muna seized Henrietta’s wrist, whispering, “Mr. Threlfall—we must not let him be crushed!”

  Henrietta nodded. The Englishwoman grasped Rollo’s right arm, Muna his left, and they tugged him out of the way before Damerell collapsed to the ground, his eyes rolling back into his head.

  “Good heavens!” said Georgiana as the dust settled around them. “I suppose that was the same chantment that knocked out Bartholomew and Rollo. I will have your weapon, if you please, miss.”

  “I have lost it,” said Muna, for she had no intention of surrendering the hairpin, but:

  “Oh, I think not!” said Georgiana. To Muna’s dismay she found herself offering the hairpin to the naga. A large rough tongue swept it off her palm.

  “A clever device,” said Georgiana, when she had swallowed the hairpin. “You need not look so downcast—you could not have used it again in any event, for you would require a great deal more magic than remained in that to overpower me. It was well done in any event. Of course, I could have incapacitated Damerell, but not without doing him an injury, and I should be sorry to hurt him unnecessarily.”

  “And now we may go to the Queen’s Palace,” said Muna. As she spoke, Henrietta slipped a cold hand into hers.

  Muna felt a spasm of guilt. It was hardly just to Henrietta that she should be dragged along to the Palace of the Unseen, simply because Muna had a mission. But Muna could not let her heart fail her now, when she was so close to seeing Sakti again.

  She pressed Henrietta’s hand but did not take her eyes from the naga.

  “Yes, indeed,” said Georgiana. “You will have your way!”

  She gave Muna a quizzical look out of her great topaz eyes.

  “I hope the Court pleases you, but I must warn you, you are not likely to enjoy it for very long. The Queen believes her doom has come upon her, and nothing makes a fairy more dangerous. I always said she would come to a bad end, given how she started—and now,” said Georgiana ominously, “it has begun!”

  17

  Two days later

  The Sorceress Royal’s quarters, England

  PRUNELLA

  PRUNELLA’S LETTERS HAD always given her trouble since her infancy. Even now that she was Sorceress Royal and nominal head of a disgruntled thaumaturgy, her spelling had not improved, and since she knew this, she did not look up when the knock came on the door.

  “Come in,” said Prunella. She was still engaged in puzzling out the word “deuteroscopy” as the door opened and shut again. A brief silence ensued.

  “I beg your pardon for interrupting, Mrs. Wythe,” said Clarissa Midsomer finally. “I was told you desired to see me.”

  “Deuteroscopy” was abandoned. Prunella put down her pen, gazing at Clarissa across the polished expanse of her mahogany desk—the desk at which generations of Sorcerers Royal had sat, including two of Clarissa’s forebears.

  The Midsomers prided themselves upon that, but then Clarissa had not lacked for reasons to be proud when they had been girls together at Mrs. Daubeney’s School for Gentlewitches. Clarissa had been a prize student—a gentlewoman and the scion of an old thaumaturgical family, possessed of such self-mastery that she never betrayed herself by indulging in magic. She had always looked down upon Prunella, for Prunella had then been a penniless charity case, so hopelessly magical that she was always setting the school by the ears with her antics.

  What a change time had wrought! Prunella was not respectable even now—no female who practised magic openly could claim to be respectable—but she had a potent defence against any who might look down upon her, in the staff of the Sorcerer Royal. Her marriage with Zacharias Wythe meant she was comfortably established, and she had made magic fashionable—for if thaumaturgy did not love her, high society was delighted to receive a sorceress possessed of such beauty and vivacity. The whiff of scandal that trailed after Prunella only enhanced her glamour in the eyes of the ton.

  The Midsomers, on the other hand, had suffered a decline in their fortunes since Clarissa’s brother Geoffrey had left for Fairy in the wake of his failed bid to gain the staff of the Sorcerer Royal. Though thaumaturgy had been happy enough to throw in its lot with Geoffrey Midsomer when it seemed likely he would succeed, following his failure there was a general feeling that his manoeuvrings had not covered him with glory—that, in fact, he had not conducted himself like a gentleman.

  Following his departure, his father continued to be one of the chief critics of Prunella and Zacharias’s reforms, but he was rather more civil than he had formerly been. Geoffrey’s mother had retreated from society in her distress at losing her son to an indefinite exile to Fairy, and she had neglected her daughter in consequence. Clarissa had had an unpromising first Season, and now, her debut past, it was a matter of some doubt when the Midsomers would be able to relieve themselves of her charge.

  As she surveyed Clarissa, Prunella could not help feeling that it might be some time yet before any gentleman sought Miss Midsomer’s hand in marriage. It was not that Clarissa was ill-favoured, nor that she committed any striking errors of taste, like wearing pink against that white skin and red hair. But she had an intensity that was liable to make gentlemen nervous.

  Mortal gentlemen, that is, thought Prunella. Evidently gentlemen of the Fairy realm had quite different tastes. The Duke of the Navel of the Seas remained Prunella’s guest, ostensibly for the purpose of investigating English thaumaturgy’s complicity in the theft of the Virtu. But Prunella could not see how he was to find the Fairy Queen’s talisman, with all the time he spent paying calls on Clarissa at the Academy.

  “Yes. I am obliged to you for coming,” said Prunella. “Pray have a seat.”

  Clarissa sat down unwillingly, looking as though she suspected the chair of wishing to take a bite out of her.

  Prunella saw that this would not be a straightforward conversation. Clarissa might feel herself in need of Prunella’s patronage now (and the reason for that was one Prunella had yet to puzzle out), but she seemed to like Prunella no better than she had done at school. Prunella had been sufficiently concerned, in fact, that she had taken the unusual step of consulting Zacharias on what she ought to do.

  “If you will take my advice, you will say nothing to Miss Midsomer,” he had said.

  “But surely we have a duty to ensure that she does not go astray,” protested Prunella. “We were the cause of the trouble. She would never have met the Duke if it were not for my ball.”

  But Zacharias would not be moved. “Even parents and guardians are liable to come to grief in these affairs. You can claim no such authority over Miss Midsomer. You are only likely to cause affront, and achieve nothing of what you intend.”

  Prunella had concluded that duty required her to disregard Zacharias’s counsel, but she was conscious now of a lurking wish that she had listened to him after all. It was too late for regrets, however. She plunged on:
/>
  “How do you find teaching at the Academy, Miss Midsomer? I hope you find the scholars agreeable?”

  “They are well-behaved enough,” said Clarissa. Suspicion flickered in her eyes. “Have they complained of my lessons?”

  “Oh no,” said Prunella. “It was unfortunate Henrietta should have been called away so suddenly—I believe her aunt in Shropshire is very ill—but we are obliged to you for stepping in at such short notice.” She paused. Perhaps a compliment would put Clarissa at her ease. “I must say, you have made remarkable progress since we were at school together! I never knew you had such magic.”

  “I am a Midsomer,” said Clarissa stiffly. But she seemed conscious that her improvement required further explanation, for certainly she had never shown any sign of having unusual magical talent at Mrs. Daubeney’s school. She added, “We have an extensive library of spells at home—one of the best in England. After Geoffrey left, I had a great deal of time to devote to study.”

  It was no good beating around the bush, Prunella decided. Since she would not win Clarissa over by flattery, she might as well resort to candour—a mode that came a great deal more naturally to Prunella.

  “You will tell me about your studies in time, I hope, for your abilities are testament to their efficacy,” she said pleasantly. “But I wished to speak with you about another matter. It concerns the Duke of the Navel of the Seas.”

  A violent pink flush tinted Clarissa’s cheeks. “The Duke?” She cleared her throat. “What have I to do with the Duke?”

  “Nothing, I hope!” said Prunella. “That is what I should counsel, in any event. For it has not escaped my notice that the Duke has been paying particular attentions to you. I do not say you have encouraged him, of course . . .”

  With Clarissa Midsomer it had always been a short path from any emotion to anger. She snapped, “You would have no grounds for saying so!”

  “But I have observed his attentions with concern,” said Prunella, ignoring this. “If you will allow me the liberty, Miss Midsomer, it is clear you do not dislike the Duke. And why should you? There is no doubt he is a gentlemanly creature and desperately handsome—”

  “What do you know about it?” Clarissa’s face was now red enough to outdo her hair.

  “Why, I have eyes to see, haven’t I?” said Prunella. Clarissa’s manners had not improved since they had known each other at school, she reflected. But Prunella had grown inured to incivility during her years as Sorceress Royal—many of her colleagues still could not endure that a female of obscure birth and native ancestry should presume to the honours she bore. Unruffled, she continued, “I don’t fault you in the least. But it behoves us never to forget what the Duke is—not only a fairy, but the representative of a nation contemplating war upon ours.”

  “Dare you accuse me of forgetting it?” cried Clarissa. “I have more reason than any other to remember what we have to fear from Fairy. You think me a heartless creature, I suppose, who cares nothing for a brother exposed to all the perils of the Fairy Court!”

  Prunella had in fact forgotten all about Geoffrey Midsomer.

  “I did not mean to suggest you don’t care for your brother,” she began, but Clarissa had had enough.

  “I know why you summoned me, Prunella Wythe,” said Clarissa, sitting bolt upright and bristling. “It does not suit the Sorceress Royal that the fairy ambassador should pay attentions to anyone but herself!”

  Prunella stared. “What?”

  “You have become so accustomed to being flattered by all around you that it aggrieves you to find you are not universally admired! I am sorry for it, but I am afraid it is quite out of my power to assist. I cannot compel the Duke to feign esteem where he feels none. He is at liberty to direct his attentions where he will.”

  “My dear Clarissa,” said Prunella, with genuine astonishment, “you cannot think I want that strange creature to court me! I am far too busy for coquetting—and even if I did desire a romance, I should not choose a fairy that introduced himself by declaring his intention to murder me and everyone I cared for. I spoke out of disinterested solicitude. I am sure your father and mother would not like you to set up a flirtation with a fairy.”

  “I am not setting up a flirtation,” said Clarissa passionately, “and you need not think you can browbeat me with threats to betray me to my parents!”

  Prunella had been resolved to be serene and superior, as befitted an employer chastising her underling. Instead she found herself crying out, with all the energy of a schoolgirl scolding another:

  “You are most unjust! I was not threatening you. Perhaps it will surprise you, but I am not in the least inclined to seek out opportunities to speak with your parents.”

  Clarissa rose with a flourish.

  “I think we have said enough,” she said freezingly. “We understand each other, I believe.”

  “I do not think we understand each other at all!”

  “If there is nothing else, I shall take my leave,” said Clarissa. “Good day, Mrs. Wythe!”

  The door shut behind Clarissa, leaving Prunella gaping after her.

  Prunella’s first thought was that Zacharias must not know anything of the exchange. Zacharias was never so ill-bred as to say, “I told you so,” but he thought it very loudly.

  She sank back into her chair, frowning.

  The oddest thing about the conversation was that Clarissa should have stormed out without tendering her notice. Prunella would have thought that the first thing Clarissa would do upon being provoked was to resign in a huff. She had been much given to flouncing out of the room at school whenever anything did not go her way.

  It seemed Clarissa wished to stay at the Academy—indeed, desired it strongly enough not only to submit herself to Prunella as her employer but to tolerate being advised by one she had always despised. But why?

  “I wonder what she came for!” said the Sorceress Royal.

  18

  The next day

  The Palace of the Unseen, known also as the Fairy Court, Fairyland

  MUNA

  “I AM SORRY,” SAID the fairy steward, not sounding sorry in the least. “But my instructions were quite clear. Her Majesty is not at home to visitors.”

  It was the first spirit they had seen since their arrival at the Palace of the Unseen. Georgiana had brought Muna and Henrietta through echoing corridors to the presence chamber, where those desirous of an audience with the Queen of the Djinns were received. They had not seen a soul on the way, and the presence chamber was empty.

  The chamber was a large hall, such as might have been found in any mortal nobleman’s residence. It was furnished in the height of European luxury, the walls hung with rich tapestries, and it was only upon closer inspection that one noticed its peculiarities. In the tapestry nearest to Muna, a crowned djinn composed of smoke and flame appeared to be presenting a lavish set of robes to an earthenware jug. The mirrors on the walls did not quite reflect reality—in the glass, the blazing wax candles that lit the hall were snuffed out; Henrietta’s hair was dark; and Muna’s reflection was covered in gleaming scales, instead of her own ordinary brown skin.

  When they had waited for a time, Henrietta ventured to ask Georgiana if it was always so quiet. The naga shook her head, looking grim.

  “Everyone with an ounce of sense is making themselves scarce,” she said. “It is the best way of avoiding trouble when the Queen is on one of her rampages. And what with the loss of the Virtu, this is such a rampage as none will have seen since the Queen ascended to the throne!”

  The steward who finally appeared seemed far from pleased to have been summoned forth. It looked like a tree that had contracted the notion that it would be amusing to walk the world as a mortal man but had got caught halfway through its transformation, so that it was neither wholly vegetable nor quite human. Nonetheless its countenance was perfectly expressive.
/>
  “I should advise you to go away and come again when Her Majesty is in better spirits,” it said. “I should think her mood will have improved in around two hundred years or so.”

  Georgiana Without Ruth bridled.

  “This is absurd!” she said. “It is not every day that the Queen is presented with such gifts as these. Her Majesty has not relished the taste of mortal flesh in a great age!”

  Muna shivered, drawing closer to Henrietta. She was beginning to doubt whether it had, after all, been such a good idea to insist upon being brought to the Palace of the Queen of the Djinns. Henrietta’s face was set and pale, but she touched Muna’s arm.

  She must be as frightened as Muna. She was certainly nearly as helpless; what magic she had could be little good here, in the beating heart of the Unseen Realm. Yet the light brush of her fingertips against Muna’s skin was reassuring.

  “A gift may be rare without being suitable,” said the steward. “Perhaps you are not aware, ma’am, but fashions have altered in the Fairy Court. It is felt now that the practice of eating one’s enemies lacks elegance.”

  This was encouraging. Muna allowed herself a spark of hope, but:

  “What fiddle-faddle!” said Georgiana. “Her Majesty was planning to devour the Virtu at her banquet. Is it any less elegant to devour spirit-stuff encased in flesh than when it is imprisoned in an amulet? Besides, she’s the Queen, ain’t she? It’s for her to set the fashion. If she wishes to eat mortal magicians, I should like to see the sprite that dared to disdain her for it!”

  “The point is well made,” said a voice behind them. “But which mortal magicians am I to eat?”

  At the entrance to the hall stood a tall creature like a woman—a giantess, indeed, for she was taller than Georgiana, and the crown of her head nearly touched the high ceiling. Her face was indistinct and curiously changeable. At one moment it seemed to Muna she had the face of a European woman, forbidding but not unbeautiful—at another, her skin looked darker, her features more familiar—and then when Muna looked again she saw, with a shock, a snake’s head with glowing eyes, its tongue darting out to taste the air.