Arrow (Knife) (12 page)

‘I know you meant to be kind,’ she said. ‘And you have been. It was ungracious of me to accuse you, especially after you risked your life for me last night. Will you forgive me?’

For a moment Martin’s face remained expressionless, and she feared he would refuse. But then he nodded, and took her hand, and they walked back to the house together.

‘You should be the one to knock,’ said Martin, as they climbed the front steps. ‘If there are Children of Rhys among them, they will welcome you. Then I will wait until you convince them I can be trusted – that is, if you still think I can be.’

There was a bitter twist to his last words, and Rhosmari flushed. ‘I trust you,’ she said with deliberate firmness, and then she took hold of the brass ring upon the door and knocked.

At first there was no answer, and by the time the little dog came wheezing up the steps and collapsed beside her feet, Rhosmari was beginning to wonder if anyone had heard. She lifted the ring to knock again—

The door creaked open, revealing a frail-looking human woman with cropped white hair. The dog scrambled towards her, but she stopped it with her foot and said politely, ‘Yes?’

‘We’re looking for our friends,’ said Martin before Rhosmari could speak. ‘May we come in?’

The woman frowned, and tilted her head to one side as though listening. Then she stepped back, motioning them to enter. ‘Is that your dog outside?’ asked Rhosmari, but their hostess had already shut the door.

‘This way,’ she said.

The inside of Waverley Hall was as grand as the outside, with sumptuous carpets, soaring ceilings, and gilt-framed paintings hanging everywhere. But here, as in the garden, there was evidence of neglect: dust filmed the mirrors, and muddy smears streaked the marble floor. They walked through the entrance hall, the slight echo of their footsteps the only sound, then down a broad passageway to the foot of a staircase.

‘Up there in the study,’ said the woman. ‘The first set of double doors on your right.’

Rhosmari glanced at Martin, who nodded at her to go first. Perhaps he was still unsure of his welcome, but she need have no such worries – especially not if Garan was waiting for her, as she prayed he would be. Taking a deep breath, Rhosmari put her hand on the stair rail and began to climb.

On the wall to her right, as she ascended, hung a series of portraits: one richly dressed man after another, no doubt the former residents of the house. Each was marked with a brass plaque, which she could not help reading out of the corner of her eye: George Waverley, James Waverley, Philip Waverley—

She stopped, startled. For a moment, Philip Waverley’s portrait had wavered, like a poorly maintained glamour. But when she touched the frame it felt solid, as no illusion could be…

‘Go on,’ said Martin impatiently from behind her. Embarrassed, Rhosmari hurried up the steps to the landing, then along the corridor to a handsome set of double doors. The right one was ajar, inviting her to enter; she pushed it open, and stepped in.

The room before her was dark and luxurious, with mahogany furnishings and windows draped in wine-coloured brocade. A great desk dominated the floor, with a wing-backed chair behind it. And in that chair sat a delicate-looking faery with honey-blonde curls and eyes like frosted steel, while standing in the shadows to either side—

No!

Frantic, Rhosmari tried to conjure an image of the wood outside the house, so she could Leap away. But her thoughts scattered, and her body refused to lose its substance. Choking off a cry, she whirled to flee.

Martin caught her before she could take more than a step. With a flick of a finger he spelled the doors closed behind them, then used his good arm to twist Rhosmari around so that she faced the Empress and the Blackwings once more.

‘I think you’ll find, Your Majesty,’ he said, ‘that I have won our wager.’

‘Indeed you have,’ replied the Empress, her gaze travelling over Rhosmari appreciatively. ‘Well done. Heal him, Byrne.’

With a grudging air the shorter of the raven brothers came around the desk and clapped his hand onto Martin’s injured shoulder, hard enough to make the other faery hiss through his teeth. But when he took his hand away, the colour came back into Martin’s face. He swung his newly healed arm in a circle and acknowledged Byrne with an ironic bow, before turning to the Empress and bowing to her as well.

‘I apologise for this unpleasantness,’ Martin murmured to Rhosmari. ‘But given a choice between my freedom and yours, I’m sure you understand which one I prefer.’

Rhosmari could not bear to look at him. He had accused her of judging him unfairly, of not trusting him enough…and all the while he had been planning to betray her. Had anything he had told her about himself been true? Or had he been nothing more than an actor playing a part all along?

‘I have been so looking forward to getting acquainted with you,’ said the Empress, her voice silken and sweet. ‘I know we will have a great deal to talk about. Oh, do not struggle – you will only hurt yourself, and there is nowhere for you to escape.’ In a rustle of silk she rose from her chair and walked to where Rhosmari stood trembling in Martin’s grip, then unsheathed a small dagger from her waist.

‘This will only hurt a little,’ she said.

‘Will you stay for dinner, Martin?’ asked the Empress, as she sheathed the knife and returned to her seat. ‘Or at least for tea – surely you can find time for that? This occasion must be celebrated.’

‘Your Majesty is gracious,’ replied Martin. ‘But I have…other commitments.’ His eyes slid away from Rhosmari’s accusing gaze, ignoring the still-bleeding hand she cradled against her breast. ‘I beg you will excuse me.’

‘Martin,’ said the Empress, still pleasantly but on a crisper note, ‘I wish you the joy of your new freedom. But I think you may find that such independence is less fulfilling than you suppose.’

‘I will take that risk, Your Majesty.’ He bowed a final time, and disappeared.

Rhosmari was left alone in the centre of the carpet, facing the Empress. Her heart felt as though it were trying to climb out of her throat. But she reminded herself that she was the daughter of Lady Celyn, and kept her head high and her back straight, though beneath her flowing skirt her knees were trembling.

‘Oh, child.’ The Empress’s face softened. ‘The worst is over, I assure you. You are safe now.’

‘Safe.’ She forced the word out. ‘How so?’

‘Because you are with me,’ the Empress told her. ‘This estate is warded on every side, so no enemy can approach without my knowing it. You will have a comfortable bed to sleep in, and fresh clothes to wear, and food as fine as you could wish for – Sarah, our hostess, is a wonderful cook. And I will be glad of your company, for the days are long and lonely when my lieutenants are abroad.’ She gave a little smile as she glanced from one Blackwing to another. ‘I have been yearning for a chance to talk to one of the fabled Children of Rhys. Corbin, bring a chair for our guest – Rhosmari, is it?’

The Empress knew Rhosmari’s true name, a secret so precious that she had never spoken it aloud, let alone shared it with anyone. She could summon Rhosmari with a thought, and force her to do anything she wanted. But it seemed that she did not know everything about her – at least not yet. Biting her dry lips, Rhosmari sat down in the armchair Corbin Blackwing had provided for her, and willed herself to stay calm. Perhaps she could still prevent the Empress from finding out too much about the Green Isles, if she kept her answers brief and careful.

‘You may go now,’ the Empress said to the Blackwings. ‘I shall see you at supper tonight.’ She lifted a hand, and one after another the twins stooped to kiss it. Then they vanished.

‘I apologise that I cannot give you quite so much liberty as Corbin and Byrne,’ said the Empress to Rhosmari. ‘You see, I dare not let you go until I am certain that you pose no threat to me. So…’ She folded her hands together and rested her chin on them. ‘You may not use magic anywhere within the bounds of this estate, except at my command. Nor can you step through any of the outer doors of the house, or climb out any of the windows, or leave it by any other means, unless I allow it.’

Until now, Rhosmari had thought that being controlled by the Empress would be an awful blank, an unknowing. She had expected to lose all sense of right and wrong, and have no desire but to do what she was told. But it was nothing like that at all. She still felt the same as she always had, yet when the Empress gave her an order, she was powerless to disobey.

And somehow, that was even worse.

‘There,’ said the Empress. ‘Now, are you thirsty? I can have Sarah bring us some lemonade, if you like.’

So this was how it would begin. A long, torturous interrogation, with every answer dragged out of her by force. The Empress might think that she could disarm Rhosmari with her pleasant manner, but she would never forget what Linden and Timothy had said about her.

‘How frightened you look!’ The Empress’s brows drew together in concern. ‘Do you really think me so terrible? I assure you, it is not so. I take no pleasure in cruelty, and I abhor violence.’

‘And yet you steal faeries’ names,’ said Rhosmari tightly, ‘and force them to do your will. How is that not terrible?’

The Empress sighed. ‘It is true,’ she said. ‘I do. And I have often wished that there were another way. Controlling my subjects is tiresome, and demeaning for both of us; I would be far happier if I never had to do it, and I try to do it as little as possible.’

Her eyes became distant, gazing into the shadows at the edge of the room. ‘But I am only one faery, with a burden for my people’s best interests that not all of them are quick to embrace or even understand. And too many times I have been betrayed, and had my trust and my confidence cruelly abused, by those I believed faithful. Can you blame me for wishing to be absolutely certain of my followers, and not merely hopeful of their obedience?’

‘But I am not your follower,’ Rhosmari said. ‘I am not one of your people at all. You have no right—’

‘Forgive me,’ said the Empress, ‘but I could not risk losing you before we had a chance to talk together. You have no idea how it alarmed me when I learned of the Stone of Naming, and found that your people had given it to Rob to help him in his rebellion. What else was I to think, but that the Children of Rhys had taken it upon themselves to overthrow my empire and set their own rulers up in my place?’

Shock hit Rhosmari like a cold wave, stealing her breath away. ‘You mean – you actually believed – that we
wanted
to start a war?’

‘I hoped not, but I had no way to be certain,’ the Empress replied. ‘Even my best sources could tell me little about your people’s history, or what you were like. And all my attempts to find out where you lived, so I could send emissaries to you with an offer of peace, were in vain. So when Martin offered to buy his freedom by bringing me one of the Children of Rhys…’ She spread her hands. ‘How could I refuse?’

Rhosmari exhaled slowly. She still did not believe that the Empress’s control of her people was justified, and Martin’s deceit still sickened her. But if there was any possibility that all this was a misunderstanding, and that there was still a chance to make peace before her mother sent an army onto the mainland, then she had to try.

‘We never meant to give the Stone of Naming to Rob,’ she said. ‘It was stolen from us and given to Linden and Timothy, who took it to the rebels. We have no desire to make war with you, or to overthrow your empire. All we want is to get back the Stone.’

The Empress’s lips parted. ‘Truly? Then I have no need to fear an invasion, or that your people plan to support the rebels against me?’ She clasped her hands together. ‘This is the best news I could have hoped for!’

‘My people have sworn not to shed blood,’ Rhosmari said. ‘We would never willingly start a war with you. All we want is to live in peace in our own land.’

‘You cannot imagine what a comfort this is to me,’ said the Empress. ‘So why did you come into my domain, then? Where were you going when Martin found you?’

‘I was looking for the rebels,’ said Rhosmari, ‘because I had heard that they had the Stone, and I hoped I could talk them into giving it back.’

The Empress threw back her head and let out a peal of laughter. ‘You really believed that they would?’ she said. ‘Pardon me if I sound ungracious, but only a child could be so naive. They will never give up the Stone, now that they know what it can do. Why should they?’

Rhosmari held her breath, fingers digging into the arms of her chair. So the Stone had not been lost in the battle of the Oak, or fallen into the Empress’s hands. It was still with the rebels, wherever they were.

‘If I believed you had any chance of succeeding in your quest,’ the Empress continued, ‘I would release you this very moment. I would be glad to see the Stone taken back to its rightful place, never to trouble me or my people again. But I fear all that will have to wait until I have dealt with this irksome rebellion.’

She rose from her chair, favouring Rhosmari with a maternal smile. ‘See how easy this was? And I did not have to compel you to answer even once. I hope we can have more such pleasant talks in future. But I am weary from all this excitement, and you must be as well. Why don’t I call Sarah, and see about finding you a room?’

Rhosmari did not feel like answering when the bell rang for supper, but she had no other choice. She had spent most of the afternoon trying to make herself Leap back to the village or climb out the window, without success, and if the Empress had to summon her by name it would only make her humiliation worse.

She was halfway down the stair when some instinct made her glance to her left. There hung the same picture of Philip Waverley that had caught her eye before, but now the glamour that had hidden its true appearance was gone. Savage parallel slashes crossed the portrait like the claw-marks of some vengeful beast, tearing the canvas into strips and rendering the face unrecognisable.

Who had destroyed it? And why only that one, of all the paintings in the house? Rhosmari had no way to tell. But it reminded her that no matter how sweetly the Empress spoke or how graciously she behaved, she was still willing to use violence when it suited her – and was not above using deceit to hide it. Suppressing a shudder, Rhosmari descended the rest of the stairs, and made her way to the dining room.