“Do you want to duel me?” I asked brightly.
“W… what?”
“A duel. Is that why you went for your sword? You were hardly about to be treasonous enough to unsheathe your weapon in front of your king. So did you want to duel the pregnant queen, or were you planning on assassinating someone unarmed?”
Nervous laughter filled the room. Glic’s hands shook as he raised them in a gesture of submission.
“Enough of this,” Sadler said, although he sounded mildly entertained. “Take him out of here until he calms down. Perhaps a stay in the stables with that wild faery horse will improve his mood.”
Nobody bothered to tell him that my wild faery horse was long gone with Fiadh. Two soldiers led Glic away. He was so stunned that he didn’t bother to struggle.
Sadler pinched my wrist and took the dagger from my hand. He glared at Reynard. “What kind of guard are you to let her take your weapon? If she had harmed me with it, what would you have done? Helped her?”
Reynard spluttered an incoherent answer.
“It’s time for you to return to the Hollows with the rest of the cretins,” Sadler said. “While you’re there, recall your troops. And if you happen to see Fiadh on your way, wish her a safe journey.”
Two soldiers dragged the protesting Reynard out of the great hall.
“If there was an assassination attempt, you would certainly be the most likely candidate for victim,” Sadler told me. He sounded exhausted.
When I really looked at him, I saw he had aged dramatically in the last few days. He was closer to the old man I had first met than to the strong king who had forced me into marriage.
“Let us break until tomorrow. You may all dine without me.” Sadler left without another word, leaving me sitting there alone.
A few stragglers had been waiting for a long time, so I sent them to the kitchen to ask the cook for some food and drink.
“Is there anything I can get you?” Anya asked me.
“I might nap.”
“You haven’t eaten today. You need to eat. The baby is too small,” she said, sounding worried.
“The pixie is correct,” Bart said, coming out of the shadows. “And the midwife will be here in a few hours.”
“I forgot. Fine, I’ll have some lunch.”
“Pixie,” Bart said, “run ahead and organise a plate for the queen. I will walk her to the dining room.”
She hesitated, but I waved her on, widening my eyes at her. Bart was a mystery I wanted to solve.
I looked at him we headed out of the great hall. “I haven’t seen you much lately.”
“I’m a busy man.” He frowned. “You look exhausted. Are all of those late-night trips taking their toll?”
I stopped in my tracks. “Were you in the locked room?”
“The locked room?” He shook his head. “I do not dare enter the forbidden tower.”
“Forbidden? Why? What’s up there?”
“You know better than I,” he said with a sly smile. “What have you discovered while you roam at night?”
“Not much I haven’t seen before. Is the doctor back?”
“No. He’s been exiled for a time. He will return but not before the child is born. The temptation is—”
“Yeah, I know.” I continued walking. “Is that a typical fae thing? That addiction?”
“For some, but most of those exist in the human realm and live relatively brief lives. For a time, it was the fashion to bring humans to court and… overdose on their fear. But it only worked with a certain type of human. And it soon became frowned upon when the after-effects became obvious. You are well now, are you not?”
I was tired and weak, but that would probably have been true even without Sadler’s influence. “I’m doing good.”
“You’re strong. I’m keen to see what kind of child you have.”
“What kind?”
“Human, fae, influenced by the mother or the father. Nature versus nurture.” He smiled. “I’m interested in a lot of things, my lady.”
“I’m interested in you. If you aren’t one of the elite like our friend back there, then what’s your purpose here?”
“I can be useful. I assume Sadler thinks it’s worth the price he might pay.”
“And what price is that?”
He lowered his voice. “Unless you have to pay it, you need never know.”
“How did you know I was up in the towers?”
“I know a lot of things. I listen more than I talk, although I have a feeling that is exactly opposite in your company. May I sit with you at lunch?”
“Of course,” I said. “I’m always happy for the company.”
We turned into the dining room. Anya was waiting for me at the head of the table.
“And yet you seem entirely pleased by the company of a pixie,” he murmured. “I heard another rumour about you, one that said a pixie once made you her burden and that you released her and begged her king for her freedom. I heard she might even have accompanied you to the Fade.”
“There was no pixie in the Fade,” I said quickly.
He laughed. “Spoken like a true faery.”
“I’m no faery,” I said. “Best not forget that.”
“I never forget. The leanan sídhe claimed you as a relative. Is that not true?”
“It’s what I’m told. But she’s ancient, so I doubt there’s much of her in my blood.”
“Enough to free her from her bonds.”
We took our seats.
“Like I said. I only know what I’m told.”
“I think you’re smarter than you like us to credit you for.”
“What was that you said before about being underestimated?” I smiled at him before picking up my fork. The faeries at the table followed my lead.
“You command without even speaking, almost as if you were raised to do it,” Bart said. It sounded like a compliment, but the insinuation was a dead weight in my chest.
“We all have to learn what to do to survive.”
He nodded. “I know that better than anyone. And how is this court different to the others?”
I stared at my food, holding my breath to keep from sighing. “I’ve never been to the Silver Court.”
“The Unseelie of new. I confess my surprise. But you’re familiar with the new Seelie court, of course.”
“It’s… brighter there. Less of the misery with pretty much the same amount of drama and politics.”
“You’re obviously well versed in the qualities of all three kings by now,” he said. “Which do you favour? Can one’s weakness be covered by the strengths of another? Do you think we will face war?”
I looked at him, seeing him for the first time. He wasn’t what he seemed. Then again, neither was I. “I’m sure I know no more than you do.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
For the next few days, I felt exhausted and spent a lot of time resting in my room, much to the midwife’s relief. My stomach was growing astonishingly quickly, but my cheeks had become hollow, my fingers almost skeletal thin.
There was no word from Fiadh yet, but I hadn’t expected there to be. The court was quiet, with only a small amount of the usual drama. But my time was running out. That became apparent every morning I awoke to find it that much harder to sit up. I found more freedom than before, stopping into the kitchens every morning to steal some of the freshly baked bread.
One day, the cook rapped my knuckles when I burned my fingers on a scone that had just been taken out of the oven. “You’re as bad as the children when they’re around.”
“Where are the children? Will they be back soon? Will I see them?”
The cook stared at me. “You think you won’t be around long then?”
“I’m not a real queen. He just wants the baby. After she’s born, I’m of no use to anyone.”
“He can’t kill the queen just like that,” a maid whispered. “The laws will—”
“He killed the wife he loved,” I
said.
The cook gave a harsh laugh. “Trust me. It’s easier to find the will to kill a loved one than a stranger.”
I widened my eyes. Anya giggled.
The cook waved her spoon. “Now get out of my kitchen if you’ve just come to mock me.”
“I’m bored.” I took a seat. “There’s no court being held today. Is Sadler gone somewhere?”
“No, he never leaves the castle.” She brushed flour off her hands. “And we’ve no way of entertaining you.”
“Tell me about the children. There were so many of them. Who takes care of them?”
“Depends on where they stay. He likes to keep them together. Sometimes he likes to have them around. He hasn’t wanted them since… he got better.” The cook moved a pot onto the stove. “Said he doesn’t like the screeching.”
“Will my baby be sent with them?” I asked.
“Likely so,” the cook said. “The older children are used to watching the smaller ones. A baby won’t cause them any fuss at all.”
“But will they love her?”
She gave a little gasp. “You know where you are, little lady. There’s no room for love in the faery realm, never mind the Darkside. The child will be spoiled for a time, ignored for longer. If the little one is lucky, Sadler will favour him.”
“Her,” I said.
“As you say.” She huffed. “But it must be some great force of magic that allows you to see inside your own womb.”
“Back home, we have machines that do that,” I said. “You can see the baby. I had a picture, but… I left it behind.”
“That’s a queer kind of magic.”
“Not magic. Technology. It’s nice. Makes things easier. Have you ever been to the human realm?”
She shook her head and ladled some fresh soup into bowls in front of Anya and me to go with the bread and scones. “I’ve been around humans but never ventured quite that far. I once lived in the Seelie court. When the twin queens reigned, Sadler took all of us away. To here, as it turned out.”
“Did the queens know?”
She shrugged. “I doubt they cared. They had their own troubles. Most came from the fact they hated each other. Downfall comes along the strangest methods.” She looked at me as if suddenly realising who she was talking to. “Eat up then get out. It’s far too hot in here for you.”
We finished eating and headed outside. The sun was shining, and the heat was as about as intolerable as in the desert. I fanned myself, wishing for an ice-pop.
“I think you were right about them,” Anya said as we wandered, waving at the gardeners, who looked ready to pass out. “They are like the rest of us. But this place weaves some darkness into their souls, fools them into thinking it’s normal.”
“Remember the Black Marshes? How we all felt miserable and unhappy all of the way through? Well, it’s like some of that filters in the air and blows this way. It’s like everyone has a burden on their shoulders. And look at Fiadh’s son, the marks on his skin because he was born here. Back at the Hollows, the first creatures that came out of the hills had black patches on their skin. And have you ever seen Sadler’s patchy hands? It’s like a disease.”
I still hadn’t shown her the stick. I wasn’t sure if it was a weapon or not, and I didn’t want her to take it away. The mirror hadn’t returned, and I had no idea who to blame. The longer I was away from it, the easier it was to think of the visions I had seen as dreams, but some were stamped onto my mind more firmly than others.
I saw Ronnie in the distance, washing in a pond.
“Look at her,” I said. “She’ll fall in, hanging over like that.”
“Let her drown,” Anya said. “She deserves it.”
“Don’t talk like that.”
“What’s wrong?”
“I’m sick of death.” I stepped toward Ronnie. “I’ve been feeling guilty about our journey. I took lives without thinking, lives of fae who were only obeying their orders. I feel… weird about that. They weren’t to blame. I’ve been right next to the fae I could blame, and I haven’t tried to take their lives. I’m trying to work through my feelings about that.”
“If you killed them, you would die. You’re protecting your child. You would never kill someone who didn’t deserve to die.”
“But who am I to decide that, Anya?”
She looked askance at me. At times like that, I wished for Zoe. She would understand in a human way. But she probably wouldn’t recognise me anymore.
“Ronnie,” I called out as we neared the pond, “be careful in the water.”
The woman ignored me. She was in just her underwear, unworried about being seen. She eased into the water, throwing her head back, her face to the sun.
“Ronnie!” I reached the water. “Did you hear me?”
“Hurry up and give me my baby.” She turned to scowl at me. “Did you hear that?”
“Don’t you want to go home?” I asked. “To your job, your books?”
Something glinted between her breasts. A long linked chain hung around her neck, and dangling from that was a beautiful ornate key. My heart paused. A key. A locked room. Holy crap, Ronnie was the answer to everything.
“Come sit with me,” I told her. “Let’s sunbathe together and talk about the baby. Have you picked a name?”
“Cara,” Anya whispered harshly, “what are you thinking?”
Ignoring her, I sat on the grass and dangled my feet in the pond. The water was warm but refreshing.
Looking suspicious, Ronnie came closer to me. “I have names.”
“Good. You’ll need to be prepared. Where will the baby sleep?”
She smiled dreamily. “In the tower.”
“Nice. Have you been in the tower?” I asked. “In the locked room?”
Her hand clutched around the key. “That’s my room.” She giggled. “That’s where I sleep. All mine.”
“I thought somebody else lived in that room.”
She burst into unsettling laughter. “Nobody lives there. Nobody.”
“Okay.” I saw the black cat out of the corner of my eye. “I understand.”
“You can’t come into my room,” she said sharply. “Not ever. It’s all for me, he told me.”
“Of course. It’s all yours.”
“You don’t live up there,” Anya told Ronnie. “You sleep with the maids, next to the kitchen. I saw you in there.”
“I have two rooms!” Ronnie screamed.
Every ounce of her old self had vanished. I didn’t know what to make of her. Would she become normal-ish again if she left the faery realm? She splashed out of the water, grabbed her clothes, and ran off.
“We need to get that key,” I said.
“Why?” Anya asked.
“Someone or something is in that room, and it’s important. I need to see, or I’ll go mad.”
“You mean like Ronnie?”
“Dying wish, Anya,” I said brightly. “Can’t ignore them.”
“That was an awful thing to say.” She screwed up her face. “Let Bekind and me take care of it. That woman deserves everything she gets.”
“It’s not her fault. She’s not to blame for any of this.”
“She chose to bring you here. She chose to come to the faery realm again. Grim told me how she was obsessed with you. She helped Sadler steal you. You could have died here. Have you not realised how lucky you are? They could have tormented you every second of every day until you lost your mind. They could have done so much more to you than they have.”
But they hadn’t. The big, bad monsters had taken care of me, mostly. So what did that mean?
***
Outside the great hall, Bekind dropped the key at my feet. Anya was nowhere to be seen. I bent as if to fix my shoe then tucked the key under my cloak. Being pregnant helped me hide a lot of things.
When I approached the thrones, Bart was staring at me. I still hadn’t figured out whose side he was on.
Later on, during my walk outside, Ronnie
raced past me. Her eyes were red, her face scratched. When I asked her what was wrong, she fled, refusing to tell me. I didn’t ask Anya how she had gotten the key from Ronnie. I didn’t want to know.
That night, while everyone slept, I sneaked out of my room. The stairs seemed darker than usual. As I passed Sadler’s floor, I noticed a lot of extra guards and wondered what that was about.
First, I went to the right tower to see if the mirror had returned. It hadn’t. And the box at the back of the room was still untouched.
I headed for the other tower. Outside the locked room, I pressed my ear to the door. I heard that same strange wheezing sound. I used the key and unlocked the door. Pushing it open, I held my breath, tamping down on the squeal that threatened to pop out of my mouth.
Deorad was strapped to the bed, his long black hair shaved on one side. Tiny pinpricks covered the bare section of his head. His face was covered in scratches, old and new. He lay there, alive, even though I had seen him die.
The room was small and warm, the air was suffocating and thick with some kind of substance I couldn’t identify. A machine stood in the corner, blowing out steam. In one corner were some empty buckets with rims stained black, as if they could never be scrubbed clean.
Puzzled, I stepped around the bed. What I could see of his body was covered in marks and bruises. Someone was apparently torturing him on a regular basis.
I moved to the head of the bed. He could have been Drake laying there. On a whim, I rolled him over a little to see his back—stab wounds, all over. Any one of them could have been fatal. But what really horrified me was the scarring on his back that clearly showed he had once been the owner of a pair of wings.
Sucking in a breath, I gently let him back down. I hated that man. He had killed Drake’s mother in front of a six-year-old boy, who had then grown up so full of hate that he had become incapable of true love. The man in front of me had murdered any chance of my having a relationship with the father of my child. He had turned Ronnie into a psychopath, had gathered up children as if collecting butterflies.
But I felt pity as I looked at him. The wheezing came from the machinery. He was barely breathing. I pressed my fingers to his wrist. His pulse was slow. With a start, I realised I was looking down at my child’s grandfather.