“They should be worrying about finding out how to stop this blight before they write me off completely.”
“They let you worry about that,” Grim said. “And rightly so. How many of them would have the power or inclination to track down ancient stories that tell us how to put a god back to sleep?”
“Yes, he only sleeps,” Líle said in a voice that wasn’t quite her own. “There was no willing vessel to do otherwise.”
We all stared at her until she dropped her fork.
“I… I misspoke,” she said at last. “Some remnant of a memory that doesn’t belong to me.”
“Then you know,” Bekind said. “You can tell us more.”
“No, no.” Líle recoiled in horror. “It was just a flash. I can’t…”
“It’s okay,” I said gently.
Travelling through the Hauntings to reach the Fade had left its mark on Líle. The Hauntings were full of the memories of the shades who protected the Fade. Another fae’s memories had attached themselves to Líle, leaving her broken and demented. I didn’t want to ruin her recovery by digging into them.
Bekind cleared her throat. “Well… Cara, there are murmurings that the blight is your fault.”
“It started before I got here.”
“Unless you expanded the rift while saving Brendan’s soul from the Fade.” Realtín stuck out her tongue when she saw my expression. “I’m just giving you their likely arguments.”
“They’ll conveniently forget that Sadler brought them poverty,” Grim said. “Be wary.”
“I’m always wary,” I said. “That’s my default state of mind.”
“They expect you to marry a faery,” Bekind said. “And perhaps that would solve some of these issues.” She shrugged. “If it’s the right faery, anyway.”
I felt sick. “I’m not getting married. Not now, not ever. This court will never have a king as long as I’m around.”
“Oh, just marry Brendan and be done with it,” Realtín screeched.
Everyone in the room looked directly at me, so I turned to Grim.
“Anyway, you’re here because there’s been a landslide, which will also probably be blamed on me. You said you wanted to see the state of the land, and Líle’s offered to take you. I’ll send one of my advisers with you, just in case.” But I desperately needed to change the subject. Taking power was one thing, keeping it quite another.
***
Conventions at court were far more relaxed than before, and most of the fae soon grew used to it. I noticed the occasional dirty look, but I could give a pretty good death stare of my own. Bekind continued spying, but I was starting to think I needed quite a few more spies than a solitary cat.
The Darksiders were becoming accustomed to the idea of sitting at a table and discussing their problems. Anyone with an issue sat directly across from me. Fiadh often sat with us, but she only interfered if I asked her opinion. Setanta and Scarlet played close by, carefully watched over by Vix, Conn, and Rat.
Realtín had decided to remain behind when Grim and Líle took the lay of the land. The little sprite was more of a distraction than anything else, but I liked having her around. Rumble was always near me, while Orlaith paced casually, maintaining an observant eye on the entire room. I was starting to feel safe. Which of course meant I wasn’t safe at all.
My morning routine consisted of going for a run or a ride on Dubh then back to have breakfast with Scarlet well before court started for the day. Some of the courtiers muttered complaints about me having the audacity to take care of my own child like a commoner, but if that was their worst complaint, I was happy.
The morning Grim and Líle left was the same day Grey Eyes took the sick, unconscious fae back to her home with her. I rode out with the procession for a while before turning back. Rumble was by my side, and a dozen black-armoured soldiers had accompanied us, not including the scout who Rumble always insisted travel ahead whenever we left the castle.
It was a good morning to be outdoors, and I wished I could stay outside all day, but Scarlet and the court were waiting, so we headed back before long.
Close to the castle, right in the centre of the path, lay the body of the scout, right where we couldn’t miss her. She wasn’t moving, and I immediately jumped off Dubh to go to her.
“Wait,” Rumble called out. “It could be—”
“She could be alive,” I snapped. “We have to help her.”
Rumble and four of the soldiers dismounted to follow me.
I reached the scout. Her throat had been cut. She didn’t look as if she’d even put up a fight. Had she known her attacker?
“Now!” a voice in the woods shouted.
An all-too-familiar twang followed. Rumble raised his shield just in time to stop an arrow from hitting me.
“Thanks.” I raised my voice. “Everyone into the woods. Before they shoot again.” I grabbed my dagger. “You four on foot, stay with me and Rumble. The rest of you split up and try to find that archer!”
“We’re going back to the castle,” Rumble said.
“No.” I grabbed Dubh’s reins and ran into the shelter of the trees. “We’re going to find whoever killed our scout.”
“Warrior queen!” one of the soldiers cried.
The soldiers seemed pretty bolstered by my lead. Whoever had shouted the command hadn’t stuck around to attack, so I ordered our three sets of soldiers to hunt their prey. The group with me grew excited, and it was contagious.
“Calm your blood,” Rumble muttered under his breath. “They’ll become reckless.”
I didn’t have time to worry about that. We raced through the woods on a track that had recently been used. I was faster than the others and took the lead, much to Rumble’s concern. But it was so freeing to take control of a situation for a change that I couldn’t slow down.
Soon, we heard the sounds of a group ahead. I slowed and signalled for the others to quieten themselves. I made to take the lead, but Rumble stepped in my way.
“Let us protect you,” he said. “If you should receive even the smallest injury, these soldiers will be shamed.”
I hesitated, looking at each of them. “If I’m injured, it’ll be my fault,” I whispered. “But I’ll follow.” For now, I silently added.
Rumble took over, organising the four soldiers. He moved ahead, and I stayed with the group this time. We came into a clearing where a camp was being hurriedly packed away by seven fae. As my soldiers dove into battle, one of the strangers tried to run. Everyone else was busy fighting for their lives, so I ran after him and tackled him to the ground. He fought back, but I managed to elbow him neatly in the nose and knock a blade out of his hand. It was covered in dried blood.
Gripping his neck, a flash of the scout’s body came to me. Enraged, I held my own dagger to the stranger's throat, and he cowered. His quick submission was confusing, but in the heat of battle, I didn’t care.
I heard footsteps approach and prepared to strike out when I heard Rumble call my name. “It’s over,” he said. “They’re all dead.”
I looked up in surprise. A few minutes beforehand, my soldiers had been struggling. How had the tide of battle shifted so quickly?
The soldiers were all staring at me, maybe wondering why the man beneath me was still alive.
“He’s the one who killed her.” I glared at him. “You killed one of my people, and now you’re going to tell us why.”
“I’ll make him talk,” Rumble said.
I jumped to my feet to get out of the way. Rumble gripped the traitor’s neck and lifted him into the air.
“Who sent you?” he bellowed before flinging the man to the ground.
Even my toes curled at the sound of Rumble’s voice. I almost pitied our captive.
He advanced on the man again. “Last chance to answer.”
“I’d rather die,” the captive hissed. He jumped up and ran headfirst into a tree before falling to the ground, unconscious.
I rushed over. The capti
ve’s mouth was foaming.
“Don’t touch him,” Rumble said. “He had something in his cheek.”
I looked up at him. “Poison?”
“Suicide to avoid betraying his master,” one of the soldiers sneered.
“Any of you recognise these people?” I asked, looking amongst the bodies. Death didn’t faze me as much as it once had. As my anger died, my empathy returned. The strangers had been people, too.
“We should get back to the castle in case they had reinforcements,” Rumble said. “Donncha will send patrols out today.”
“What about Grim and Líle and the Miacha’s group?” I asked, suddenly anxious. “They could be attacked, too.”
“Donncha will send an escort after them.” Rumble glanced at the camp. “But those attackers wanted you, my lady, not the others.”
We returned to the horses and found the others, who had picked off any archers they found in the woods. As we rode back to the castle, the soldiers began to sing a cheerful battle song. I couldn’t help but get caught up in their happiness at the win.
“You did well,” Rumble said. “You have these men’s loyalties entirely after today.”
“Great. How many more assassination attempts do I have to survive to sway the entire court?”
His low laugh surprised me. “It wasn’t the attempt. It was the way you went after those who killed one of your soldiers. You pursued them rightfully, protected your own, and acted like the warrior queen you were professed to be. Sadler didn’t fight beside them. I think you impressed them.” He hesitated. “But please don’t do it again. If you had died, the entire court would have fallen with you.”
But even his warning couldn’t dampen my spirits. The fae could accept me. I would find a way to make them all accept me.
***
I had just promised an old tribesman sent by Bas and Jackie that I would send medicine for the sick children in his tribe, and circumstances allowed me a brief break. With Rafe organising the crowds, everything ran more smoothly. His presence may have irritated the so-called old-bloods, but I was finding him invaluable. I had watched him the first few days, and he treated everyone equally, no matter how they treated him. That was what I needed.
Then again, I had been feeling upbeat anyway since the assassination attempt. Many of the soldiers had warmed to me in a way they couldn’t before. If something did go wrong, I was confident they had my back.
“You should take more breaks,” Fiadh warned as I indulged in a long, satisfying stretch.
“I don’t want to keep everyone waiting too long,” I said, watching the children play with the pups. The animals had already grown noticeably since their arrival, but they were careful around the children and especially gentle with Setanta. I wondered what they sensed in him.
Setanta looked up and caught my eye. “Haven’t you named them yet?”
Fiadh froze, as though afraid the child had misspoken.
“Not yet,” I said. “I haven’t been able to think of any good ones, I’m afraid.”
“They do need good names. There’s power in a name. Isn’t that right, mother?”
Fiadh’s face was flushed. “So they say.”
“You’re right. They deserve worthy names.” I nudged Fiadh. “Calm down. Don’t make a big deal of it.”
She fanned her face. “It’s partly because now he talks and partly because he dares talk to a queen as his equal. If people heard…”
“He’s a child. What do they expect me to do to him?”
“It’s not been long since we had a pair of queens,” she said. “Their methods won’t be forgotten any easier than Sadler’s.”
I squeezed her hand and pretended not to see her flinch. “I’m not them.”
She met my eyes. “Sometimes, you’ll have to be.”
“But not today. And definitely not with a child.”
“I don’t mean to offend,” she whispered.
“I’m not offended,” I said, irritated.
Setanta frowned at the black pup. “You should give them names from the old stories.”
I moved to sit next to the children. “What stories?” I asked as I pinned Scarlet’s hair out of her eyes.
He hesitated and looked at his mother for reassurance. Fiadh nodded, and he seemed satisfied enough to continue.
“Mother used to read me old stories. Good stories.”
“Do you want the queen to name her dogs for the old heroes?” Fiadh asked.
He reached out and fondled the white pup’s ears. “They’re a pair. They should have a pair of names like in the stories.” His face flushed with his excitement. “Like… Tristram and Iseult. Or maybe Deirdre and Diarmuid.”
“They were… humans, right?” I said hesitantly.
“The fae used to watch over humans with more care than we do now,” Fiadh explained. “The stories of our legends often involve humans.”
“And ours often involve the faery world,” I said with a smile. “I was more interested in the faery stories when I was a child, Setanta. So, how did your stories go?”
“Mother, shall I tell her?”
“Perhaps another time,” Fiadh demurred.
I laughed. “You have to tell me now.”
“I can tell you.” Setanta lowered his voice and spoke in a dramatic tone. “Once, there was a beautiful princess named Deirdre. She was betrothed to an old, powerful king who was loved by all. But on her wedding day, she met his most trusted soldier, Diarmuid, and fell in love at first glance. To free herself, she drugged the drink of everyone but Diarmuid, and she beguiled him into running away with her. A feud followed. Family against family. Friend against friend. Nobody could blame true love, some said. Others said that honour and a promise were far more important.”
“What happened next?” I asked in spite of myself.
Setanta smiled. He knew he had me. “The king was part fae, and his faery relatives predicted that Diarmuid would eventually die from wounds inflicted by a boar. This king claimed to forgive the pair, and the wars ended. However, the king arranged a boar hunt, and he invited his old friend, Diarmuid. Sure enough, the soldier was badly injured. The king was the only one in the land who could heal his wounds. Deirdre begged him to help, but the king refused once, then twice, and Diarmuid lay dying. Deirdre went to the king a third time, promising him her own life if he would just agree. He took this bargain, but it was too late for Diarmuid—and too late for Deirdre, too.”
I swallowed hard. “That sounds sad.”
“Love is death,” Setanta said as if it were nothing. “This is how we know that love brings death to the fae.”
“What about the other story? Is that one any better?”
“Better?” He frowned. “I don’t know. Would you like to hear it?” He sounded so doubtful that I had to say yes.
“There was once a beautiful Irish princess called Iseult. She was betrothed to a king from across the sea. The king’s nephew, Tristram, arrived to take Iseult to his uncle for marriage. But the journey was long, and Iseult slowly fell in love with Tristram. Tristram was too loyal to his uncle to do anything but his duty, so he took her home and watched in silence as the two people he loved best wed each other.”
I grew uneasy. The stories the fae told their children explained a lot.
“Iseult found the king to be a good, kind man, and a different sort of love for him grew in her heart. All three loved each other well, but Tristram and Iseult were soul mates. They couldn’t stop loving each other, and even duty and honour faded in the shadows of their love.” He met my eyes. “It’s known that when soul mates meet, nothing can keep them apart. The king should have sent Tristram away, but he loved him too much.”
“Well,” I said, “it’s hard to send away people you care about.”
“This is how we know that love makes fools of even the wisest men, and lovers can never be trusted.”
“I don’t think—”
“You’ll see. They weren’t careful or clever enough
to hide, and their betrayal was made public, leaving the king brokenhearted. By the laws of his own country, he was forced to punish them with death. But he couldn’t bear to part them from each other, or even be parted from them himself. He buried them side by side in the garden so he could see the graves from his window. But even in death, they couldn’t be truly separated. Vines grew from each grave and intertwined together for eternity.”
Embarrassingly, a lump had formed in my throat. “Also sad. Fiadh, didn’t you read him any happier stories?”
She laughed, thinking it a joke. “There are only tragedies. The fae aren’t capable of remembering anything else.” She shrugged when she caught the look on my face. “The stories are sometimes told to teach morals. Iseult wasted her chance of power and happiness to follow her heart, and it led to her ruin. Deirdre led a good man down a path he never wanted and lost him forever. As Setanta said, to the fae, love is weakness and death.” She gave her son a loving look. “And that’s why I’m glad I learned another way to live.”
“It kind of explains why the fae have trouble trusting me. They’ve been raised to believe I bring death my way. The stories make it sound like human women cause all of the problems.” I was only half joking.
“You’re not a human anymore,” Fiadh said shortly. “You’re one of us, and anyone who says otherwise can easily be silenced.”
“Steady on,” I said laughingly. “Let’s not execute the entire court just yet. Fiadh, can I ask you a question?”
She looked at me with surprise. “Of course. You’re the queen.”
“Not as a queen. As a person. I want you to answer because you want to, not because you’re forced to.”
Her smile was gentle. “I know. It’s a force of habit to bring everything back to status. It’s what we’ve been doing for generations. What is it you wanted to ask?”
“Bekind said the fae are expecting me to marry. Is she right?”
“You’re not new to the ways of the court. All people of your rank are expected to marry, even King Brendan.”