by E. A. Copen
The arrived at Cian’s door where he pounded on the door until Cian himself opened it.
“What’s the racket?” said the advisor, struggling to get his spectacles on. He peered down his thick red nose at Foxglove and blinked, eyes widening. “Sir Foxglove. What’s the meaning of this?”
“Where were you earlier this evening?” Foxglove demanded.
Cian eyed the guards behind him. “After dinner, I retired to my chambers to read and study.”
“Can anyone verify that?”
“Of course not. I’ve been alone all evening. I haven’t even seen the guard.” Cian’s eyes narrowed to slits. “What’s the meaning of all this?”
“So you didn’t stumble into the armory and see Declan here with Miss Jessica just moments before the attack on the palace?”
It finally dawned on the advisor what was happening. His eyes widened and he attempted to step back and swing the door shut. Foxglove caught it and shoved it open with ease, knocking the advisor back. Cian let out a panicked squeak and rushed toward his bedroom, but tripped on the rug and fell, striking his chin on the floor.
It was Foxglove himself who put the cuffs on Cian and hauled him to his feet.
“You’ve got it all wrong!” Cian declared and struggled against his restraints.
“Don’t try to deny it, traitor,” Foxglove spat. “Twelve men are dead because of you, and our queen nearly died tonight as well.”
“I am my queen’s loyal servant!” Cian tried to rush the guards at the door but doubled over when Foxglove drove a fist into his gut. The advisor fell to his knees, gasping for air like a fish on dry land.
“How dare you! After what you did...” Foxglove flexed his fingers. If he didn’t have an audience, he might’ve gutted the coward then and there. No need for a trial, not with the damning evidence of Declan’s testimony. The queen would have his head eventually as it was, and a swift execution would save everyone time and expense.
But Remy was already upset with him, and if he killed Cian now, they’d never know why he chose to betray his queen.
Foxglove jerked his head towards the door. “Take him below and put him in chains.”
“You’ll regret this, Foxglove!” Cian shouted as the guards dragged him to the door.
He smiled to himself. “The only thing I’ll regret is that I’ll have to miss the trial.” He patted Declan on the back. “Good work, Declan.”
Declan frowned. “I don’t know. Something about all this doesn’t sit right. Maybe I’ve made a mistake.”
“Not at all. You did see him, didn’t you?”
“I did.”
“Then there you have it.” He put an arm around the younger fae’s shoulders and led him to the door with a sigh. “But I do have to wonder what court politics are coming to if a queen can’t even trust her own advisors. These are dark times if that’s true, Declan. Very dark times indeed.”
Chapter Nine
Morning dawned, the sky blood red and the mood somber. Finn and the others saddled their horses in silence. The warriors they sent him with were a sorry, tired bunch. He didn’t think Foxglove had slept at all, especially since Finn had heard they’d arrested a traitor in the night. Rumor had it someone had opened the gates to let the Nightclaw in, which he supposed made sense. They couldn’t just walk through walls.
Finn recognized the young man with the bow as well. He’d been with Foxglove when he arrested Finn at the tomb. Declan, they’d said he was.
The fourth member of their party was a newcomer, a young woman with bone white hair all clad in brown leather. She carried a sword at her hip, a bow on her back, and treated the straps on her saddle as if she were furious with them.
Finn finished with his own preparations and walked over to where she was still working. “Need any help?”
The look she gave him was practically venomous. “I’m almost finished.” She turned back to her work.
“I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Finn. Finn O’Leary.”
She looked up again and eyed his outstretched hand with disdain. “Sir Gwen Nemain,” she said without taking his hand.
“Sir Gwen?” Finn lowered his hand. “Wasn’t aware there were any female knights. Shouldn’t you go by dame?”
Gwen finished with her saddle, gripping it and pulling herself into it before answering. “Why? I’m a knight like any other. I suggest you look to your own preparations, Finn O’Leary. The sooner we get going, the sooner we can be back.” She urged the horse forward, galloping for the gate where she waited.
Finn sighed and went back to mount his own horse. “She’ll be trouble,” he remarked to Declan. “I thought I was getting the queen’s best swords for this. Do you know anything about her?”
Declan frowned toward where Gwen waited. “I don’t, but I don’t know every knight in Summer. Could be she’s a recent addition or someone who served under Sir Malcom. There’ve been lots of expeditions lately.”
“Let’s hope this one fares better than all of those,” said Foxglove from atop his speckled white stallion.
“Agreed.” Declan hoisted himself up into the saddle and adjusted his bow where it hung on his back. His horse was some sturdier breed, slightly smaller than Foxglove’s, and red in color.
Finn didn’t know enough about horses to judge the breeds, but they all seemed to be in good health and didn’t start at loud noises, so that was good. The last thing he wanted was to be thrown from his horse the first time one of those creatures crossed his path. It was a week’s ride from the summer palace to the great black city at the heart of Shadow, and another three days to the border town of Teig. In a ride through blighted land, they were as likely to encounter monsters as the sea was to be wet. If all went well, Foxglove, Declan, and Gwen could be home drinking tea with the queen in a few weeks. If not, they’d most likely be dead.
Something tugged on Finn’s leg. He looked down into the sleepy red eyes of Auryn as she held a cloth wrapped bundle up to him.
“What’s this?” he asked, taking the bundle. It wasn’t very heavy, whatever it was. He opened the makeshift bag and lifted out one of the daisy crowns Auryn had been making the day before. There were half a dozen of them in the bag, all different colors.
“I remember what it was like when we left,” Auryn said, fidgeting. “Everything in Shadow was dead and black and scary. There wasn’t any color at all. I was worried I would forget what other colors looked like. I made them for you so you don’t forget, Finn.”
“Thanks, sis.” He rubbed her head, messing up her frizzy hair. “You be good while I’m gone, okay?”
“I will. I promise I won’t stab anyone who doesn’t deserve it.”
He grinned and winked at her. “Try not to stab the queen’s advisors either.”
Trumpets sounded high up on the walls and a gate at the side of the courtyard opened. The queen, Sir Malcom, and several guards strode out in a tight line formation, stopping just short of their horses. Queen Remy had put on a long feathery dress that almost looked as if it were made of peacock feathers. She wore her hair down, curled around her chin.
“Come to see us off?” Finn asked.
Remy offered a restrained smile. “Of course.” She raised her voice, addressing everyone gathered in the courtyard. “Any expedition into Shadow is dangerous. Not only will you face the dangers of the blight, but you’re entering hostile territory, trekking through uncharted land. In the wake of the attack last night, prospects may feel especially grave. But take heart, your kingdom stands behind you. You four brave souls go forward to defend more than just Summer, but all of Faerie and perhaps beyond. You carry our hopes and dreams for a brighter future with you. May they light your way in the darkness ahead.”
Sir Malcom drew his sword and thrust it into the air. “Three cheers for our brave volunteers!”
As the courtyard erupted into shouts and applause, Finn leaned down toward the queen. “How about a kiss for luck, Highness?”
Her cheeks colored
. “I hardly think that’s appropriate.”
“Come on, now. It’s an old custom where I come from, especially knowing I might never come back.”
He expected her to ignore him, especially after the night before. But then he hadn’t been expecting her to follow through then either. Still, in front of everyone? She’d never do it, which was half the fun of teasing her. If she did, there would be whispers around court for months. Although...
“Very well,” said the queen and planted the quickest, lightest kiss on Finn’s cheek.
A kiss that was very unlike the one she’d offered the night before.
Finn sat up in his saddle and glanced at Foxglove whose stare was fixed on him. If it’d been a few degrees cooler out, steam would’ve risen from the knight’s forehead with a stare that intense.
Finn grinned at him and urged his horse forward. “Let’s go, Foxglove. Our quest awaits!”
With a cheering crowd at their backs, the four rode out from the Summer palace and into the country. Close to the castle, they encountered small packs of protesters shouting and grumbling, but none dared engage them directly. Mostly, they just gave them dirty looks. The more dirty looks they got, the further from their minds the cheering crowd became.
By the time they’d passed the closest villages, the hills and dells of Summer spread out before them, their pace had slowed. Gwen took the lead, her gelding walking at a comfortable pace. Foxglove rode behind her while Finn and Declan rode together in the rear.
No one had said a thing in the two hours they had been riding. At first, Finn thought it was just because of the protestors or because they had nothing to say, but as their journey and the silence droned on, he began to think that perhaps they just didn’t know what to say. After so much quiet, saying anything might’ve been awkward.
Not for me. Finn focused on the back of Gwen’s head. It’d been said that he didn’t know the meaning of awkward, and maybe that was true. Awkwardness was for people who could be embarrassed, and embarrassment relied on secrets. Someone without secrets couldn’t be embarrassed, and so he’d always made it his policy not to have them. Why not speak his mind?
Which put him in a rather difficult position now, since he knew something neither Declan nor Foxglove knew about their fourth companion. Should he tell them? No, if Foxglove knew, he’d turn them around, and Finn had no desire to ride all the way back to the palace, especially after coming so far.
He smiled to himself. Secrets, of course, could also be powerful. Knowing someone else’s secret meant he had leverage. No need to reveal my leverage preemptively. After all, there must be a reason she’s decided to come with us.
But knowing, combined with the silence, was driving him crazy. In the fields as far out as they were, there weren’t even any birds or the murmur of crowds. It was unbearable.
And so Finn began to fill the silence. At first, it was only contented humming, but no one seemed to notice until he erupted in song.
“I knew two summer ladies
One Jill and a Mercedes
I took them down
To Oldentown
To buy a cask of ale.
Well, Jilly, she’s a drinker
And Mercedes a free thinker
One drink and then another
And they’d rather kiss each other!”
Foxglove twisted in his saddle to sneer at him. “Really? Does this look like a tavern full of drunks to you?”
Finn shrugged. “Okay then. How do you feel about Billy Idol?”
“Who?” Foxglove made a face.
“Guns N’ Roses? Bon Jovi? Def Leppard? Queen? Come on, man. Tell me you’ve heard of some of them. You’ve been to Earth.”
Foxglove’s face lit up. “I know Madonna.”
“I’m more of a Pat Benatar fan myself, but okay.” Finn launched into the chorus of “Like a Virgin”, which just made Foxglove roll his eyes and turn back around.
Declan shook his head. “Earth music is very strange.”
“You think that’s weird, you should hear some of the stuff they’re coming out with these days.” Finn shook his head. “The eighties were the pinnacle of pop culture and music in general. Never was a better decade. Wish I’d spent more time on Earth during it, but the political climate kind of sucked. Not too unlike Faerie these days.”
“Faerie is in a strange state of transition,” Declan agreed. “I don’t think there have been so many new monarchs in such a short period of time. The political instability has everyone nervous. The only monarchs who haven’t changed over are in the High Court, and they’ve all but cut off contact with most of the rest of Faerie, especially since Queen Remy refused to marry their prince.”
“They’re pouting probably. High fae tend to have very tender egos.”
“Or planning.” Declan leaned in closer. “I don’t know if you know, but Foxglove was born into the High Court. If anyone knows why they’re closing themselves off, it should be him, but he’s been mum on the issue.”
“If he’s High fae, what’s he doing slumming with the Summer court?”
Declan shrugged. “He doesn’t talk about it much, but he has two older brothers who don’t like him very much.”
That meant he was probably safer being as far away from the High Court as possible. While fae couldn’t die—except in limited circumstances such as being in the proximity of the Summer Queen—they could be horribly dismembered or disfigured. The High Court was famous for its power games. Maybe the monarchs there had been stable for a long time, but the minor lords changed places all the time. It was said one brother would cut off his other brother’s legs for a chance at carrying favor with the High Queen.
It was all so stupid. Finn never had any interest in politics. Give him an open road or a long-forgotten tomb any day, so long as he was never trapped in one place for very long. No obligations, no pressure, no expectations. Just a life lived. That’s all he wanted, to experience life in every way possible.
One of the visions he’d seen when he picked up the topaz in Queen Oonagh’s tomb flashed through his memory, the scene of dead men smoking in the fields around the Summer palace. Was it a memory? Prophecy? Maybe it was nothing. He’d been trying to convince himself of that ever since he put the stone down, though the vision felt too real to be nothing.
He dismissed the thought and sped up his horse. What did a rock lying in the tomb of a dead queen know?
Finn rode past Sir Foxglove to pull even with Gwen. She didn’t even acknowledge him, though she must’ve heard him ride up. “You don’t say much do you?”
She kept her gaze focused forward and said nothing.
“Fine with me. I’ll just keep talking. I like a woman who knows how to listen. Have you ever been to Shadow before?”
“No.”
He smiled to himself. “Well, a lot of people think it’s a dark, ugly place. With a capital called the Black City, how can it not be, right? Of course, they’re wrong. Shadow has night and day just like everywhere else, they’re just less intense. More like a perpetual battle between twilight and dusk. You can see the stars just as easily midday as you can at midnight.”
“Finn...”
“And the Black City is also known as the City of Lights. The architecture may be all black stone, but never let it be said we lived in the dark.”
“Finn!” She reached out to grab his arm. “Shut up and look.”
Finn turned his attention forward for the first time in a while. They’d ridden up over a ridge overlooking the valley below. It should’ve been rolling farmland interspersed with a few random huts. Instead, it was a desolate bowl of black. Black lumps marked where a forest once stood in the distance, the trees burned to nothing more than stumps. Vines as thick as a man’s arm stretched like roots over the burned land to coil at the edge of green. Summer ended where the vines began, though it should’ve stretched on for miles.
“This farmland was burned last week,” said Gwen as Foxglove and Declan joined them on the rid
ge. “And the blight has already overtaken it. It’s growing faster.”
“Our experts estimated it would reach the palace in a few months,” Foxglove said. “At this rate, it will have overtaken the castle in just weeks. We have even less time than we thought.”
Gwen turned to Finn. “Can you do anything?”
“Against this?” Finn shook his head. “Maybe. I’ve never tried.”
“You made short work of the Nightclaw.”
Finn studied her closely. “How would you know? I didn’t see you there.”
She cleared her throat. “I mean, I heard. They say nothing could hurt it but your magic.”
“That’s not true, not strictly speaking anyway.”
“What do you mean?” Foxglove demanded. “Queen Remy said not even her death magic could hurt it. Several of our mages tried spells. It was struck with spears, swords, and arrows. Nothing worked, yet to hear Queen Remy tell the story, you simply ripped it apart with your Spellweaver powers.”
“You people have no idea what a Spellweaver is, do you?” Finn asked.
Gwen squeezed her horse, urging it forward. “Ride and talk. We’ve lost enough time as it is.”
The ridge was too narrow for the three of them to ride abreast, so Finn let Foxglove and Declan go ahead, raising his voice to explain as they picked their way over the rocky ground. “Spellweavers can take two different sorts of magic and weave them together, as the name suggests. Problem is, we’re limited to drawing on whatever power is just laying around at the time, so whatever spells I weave can only be as powerful as the people I borrow them from. Remy’s pretty damn powerful, but she holds back.”