Feast of Fates (Four Feasts Till Darkness Book 1) (27 page)

The woman picked herself up and flowed toward the company, as graceful as a ripple of sunlight on water. Everyone, including the brazen Wolf, bowed upon a knee, for they were in the company of a true queen. Once close enough, she drifted from member to member, examining each of them with her inscrutable amber stare. Morigan could not settle on an age for the woman; as young as she appeared, she seemed as ancient as the tree behind her. First, the amber gaze narrowed upon Morigan and then clashed with Caenith like two snakes in a pit, and broke that instant of conflict to settle on Thackery.

“My Queen, I bring you the sage,” announced Rowena.

“Thank you, my sword,” said Queen Lila. Her use of Ghaedic carried a lilt to it, made heavier by her smoky voice. “Sage Thackery. How long it has been since you joined me in the Chamber of Echoes? The palace is colder without your wisdom and duller without your wit. I am glad to see you again, even if the situations are so ill-tided.”

“Your Majesty,” nodded Thackery. “It is an honor. Thank you for seeing me so shortly.”

“Our meeting could not be delayed, from the sound of it.”

“No, it cannot.”

The snake eyes flashed to Morigan. “The farspeaking stones do not allow for nuanced discourse. What is your name?”

“Morigan Lostarot.”

“And this man?”

“Caenith? He is my…”
Wolf? Hunter in the Great Hunt? Man I met less than a week ago with whom I’ve been all over Eod and seen wonders untold, and to whom I want to offer my heart? By the kings, Morigan, spit something out
.

Caenith answered for her. “I am her bloodmate-to-be, should she choose me. I am Caenith as declared.”

“Bloodmate,” repeated Queen Lila, and if their Wills were visible, there would have been fire and thunder between them. Caenith showed but a minor tremble as his nerves screamed of one predator in the presence of another, for as pleasant and golden as the queen was, magik leaped off her like sparks, raising his hackles. Only the slightest quiver of a lip told of the queen’s surprise at this barbarian who spoke with olden terms and who, with his puffing strength and sinew, reminded her so very much of a man whom she could not think of without fantasies of murder or a painful rape of his own. Morigan picked up on a bit of this, as bees sang an alarm in her head, but the moment was over and the queen appeared satisfied. She then cast her attention back to Morigan.

“Thackery has informed me that you have information vital to the safety of our kingdom.”

“Well, yes. I have seen something,” confessed Morigan.

“You’ve seen something, have you? Thackery would not have wasted a farspeaking stone to request an afternoon tea—as much as he enjoys those. Please, seat yourselves, and we shall speak,” suggested Queen Lila, and rested upon the ground straight-backed and with her shins parallel, as perfect as an artist’s portrait. Morigan didn’t think that this was intentional, but an inherent elegance. The company settled near the queen, with Caenith a
pace or two farther back, and the watchful Sword Rowena standing next to her mistress as grim and towering as the ancient yew.

“What have those strange silver eyes of yours seen, child?” asked Queen Lila.

“Not with her eyes, with her mind!” blurted Thule, unable to contain himself.

The queen squinted in disbelief or amazement. “She is a prophetess?”

“Much more than that,” continued Thule. “What she can do shames the black readings of the House of Mysteries.”

“I don’t know who they are,” confessed Morigan.

“The black prophets of Geadhain,” muttered Queen Lila.

“Fallen children of Alabion, twisted Daughters of the Moon, gone from their virtue,” mumbled the Wolf.

This was the second time that this brute had referenced the old powers, and he drew the queen’s cutting glance. “An unusual association to make for a man who does not have the bearing of a scholar. That is a tie to the past that few, even Sage Thackery, are learned enough to recognize.”

“One should never assume whether a man is wise or unwise, strong or weak, given only a glance,” replied Caenith, his lip curling as he spoke to show his canines. “Even the thinnest sapling may withstand the strongest wind. Even the dullest mind can shine now and again with wisdom. I am twice-natured in many ways, and you should remember to judge me so.”

“Judge you? Pray tell, how does one judge a man who arrives shirtless as a tavern-brawler to the court of his kingdom?” The queen was not sneering—not with her face, at least—though venom laced her words.

“The wise observe before they judge, then observe thrice more before they speak. And this is not
my
kingdom.”

Rowena’s hand itched on the crystal hilt of her weapon, a lethal sword likely quick as lightning once unsheathed. While the deeper conflict between the queen and her lover was intriguing and surely worth examination to Morigan, that wasn’t the reason they had come to the Chamber of Echoes. Whatever was happening between the two was veering the conversation well off its course and toward a dangerous end. Mifanwae’s prudence reared in her daughter once again, and Morigan sharply took charge of the situation. She placed a hand on the bristling flesh of the Wolf.

“I would like to hear more of this House of Mysteries and its connections to my gift. I really would, as there is much about myself that I know nothing about. That said, my Queen, in the interest of Eod, you really must see what I have seen. Not all of it; I believe there are parts from which you should be spared.”

With a deep breath, the blush of rage had left Queen Lila’s caramel cheeks and she smiled to Morigan and Caenith. The expression was so lovely that the hate toward her lover was only noticed by Morigan’s bees.

“Do pardon any offense, yourself in particular, Caenith. You remind me of someone, is all. A man I would rather not be reminded of. We have matters of far graver importance to focus on than my personal torments. Now, Lady Lostarot. Your vision, yes. What have you seen?”

“I think it might work better if I showed you,” proposed Morigan.

She came forward on her knees and offered her hands to the queen so that she might take them. The queen studied the invitation, as circumspect as she was curious.

“Show me? How?” asked Queen Lila.

“In your head!” exclaimed Thule. “It’s like nothing you’ve ever known! Quite safe, quite safe! She won’t scramble anything too badly, far as I can tell.”

As Thule was no longer the subject but the chronicler to this process, he appeared more enthusiastic about Morigan’s gifts. He shuffled nearer to the queen to watch the magik unfold.

“When you are ready,” said Queen Lila, taking Morigan’s hands without pause.

Morigan had already begun. In a flicker of thought, the bees were off and harvesting from their mistress. She was careful about
what
brain-nectars they were to bring back: as fearless as the queen might be, she did not need to relive her king’s crime. The bees returned with their droplets of memory, each a tear of the sorrow and suffering that Morigan had experienced in the Dreaming. Before the queen could blink, the static of Morigan’s magik had crawled up her arms, and a dazzle of silver light from the young witch’s face was her final vision before the horror of the crimson-drenched court of the Sun King swallowed all that she knew. Admirably, when the queen gasped and tore her hands from Morigan a sand hence, she did not scream, cry out,
or shed a tear. If Morigan were to guess, her puffing breast, rosy cheeks, and slitted eyes showed anger, not distress.

The queen reached for her sword, who was at her side as quick as one’s cane, helping her to stand. Together the queen and her sword turned away from the company.

“What is it, Your Majesty?” asked the sword, hushed, though the Wolf still heard it.

The queen did not speak and only shook her head ruefully. Morigan and the others knew too well the Sun King’s evil. What the queen had seen required rumination; she would speak when she was ready. While they waited, Caenith crept over to sit behind his Fawn, his legs rising aside her like two mountains over a canyon with his comforting strength pressing into her back. She could feel him inhaling and cautiously nuzzling her hair. They hadn’t touched all that much since she deduced that he—and the old sorcerer—were concealing things from her, and as she watched the silently torn Queen Lila, thoughts of what she had seen in the heads of Magnus, Thule, and Brutus pronounced themselves, and she understood that dealing with darkness was a battle, and one not won in an instant. She would give these men time, more time than she had angrily declared, to draw their darkness out into the light. Such could not be an easy task to submit oneself to.

Consumed in these sentiments of forgiveness and compassion, Morigan reached out to hug one of Caenith’s knees.
I am sorry, my Wolf. Share your darkness with me when you are ready. I shall not stir the monsters of your past from their lair
. She meant what she said, with the whole of her heart, as an expression that wanted to be shared, and mayhap that is what stirred the bees and sent their silver stingers flying from her head. Caenith tensed behind her. As she looked over her shoulder and saw his toothy grin, followed by him mouthing the words
thank you
, she made the calm if unsettling realization that he had somehow just heard what she said—without words, and using only her mind. Was further confirmation of this feat needed, Caenith gave a slow, approving nod at the astonished expression of his mate.

“Morigan Lostarot,” said Queen Lila.

“Hmm? What? Pardon?” Morigan shook her head free of its fog and peeled away from her lover. “Sorry, Your Majesty. How may I serve?”

The queen strode to her and knelt as close as if they were girlfriends; she smelled of spices and sweet things and was not afraid to reach for Morigan’s hands again. “This gift that you have, it is as Thackery has said, only all the more extraordinary, for words fail where experience shines. I have lived many lifetimes and I have never heard of one who can see what you see or weave it so deftly into the head of another. I wonder how far and how deep those silver eyes see, or what else you might be capable of.”

I could stab my words right into your head it seems, if I Will it badly enough
, thought Morigan, and had to rein the bees not to follow this impulse.

Affectionately, the queen tucked a strand of Morigan’s autumn hair behind her ear and then rubbed her pale skin with a thumb—a gesture so fundamentally mothering that Morigan was reminded of Mifanwae. “I am sorry that you had to see this,” said Queen Lila. “And I thank you for what you did not show me. We both know where that dream began, though I did not know how it ended until now. I cannot question you or your promised bloodmate’s honor, for were you an enemy of Eod, you would not be a friend of Sage Thackery, nor would you have come to me with this information. You would have found a more compelling reward for what you witnessed.”

The queen rose, and Morigan with her, as they had not yet relinquished their grips. Warmly and unexpectedly, the queen embraced Morigan, holding her tightly and then releasing her. The gold pools of the queen’s eyes glittered with melancholy: a sadness that the bees wanted to inspect until Morigan restrained them. In such a short time with her power, she was already weary of sifting through people’s sorrows.

“Now, Sage Thackery and I have many a matter of state to discuss. I welcome you—and Caenith—as guests to the palace. Rowena can show you to your suite.”

“Guests of the palace!” cried Morigan, and quickly embraced her hostess once more. “Thank you!”

Caenith would have preferred the open air to this bastion of rock and magik, though he could smell the citrusy-sweet scent of Morigan’s exhilaration and knew that there were limits to courtesy that not even he should press. He bowed and thanked the queen, and she bowed in return. Stoic Rowena then led them through the Chamber of Echoes, and Morigan’s
giggles of delight could be heard echoing back to the two who watched them go.

“She seems excited,” commented Queen Lila.

“Aye, she has had a hard life. I doubt she even knows how to enjoy the finer things that the masters of Eod see as commonplace,” said Thule, nodding.

“We shall make certain to spoil her,” promised the queen. “She has the look of one whose hardships have only begun.”

Thackery agreed with a frown and reached for the queen’s elbow, which was ready for him. Decades apart from each other had not dulled their familiarity, and the pair strode slowly around the great yew and into the roaring mist that ruled the precipice beyond. They did not go too close to the edge, but found two flat damp stones hidden in the back hollows of the tree and planted themselves upon them. Here, the roots muffled some of the noise, and they could hear each other speak.

“Too long, too long it has been, old friend,” sighed Lila. “Rowena is doting, but loving in her manner, and she and I so often go back and forth between mother and daughter that even I get confused. The problem with never having children, I suppose, is that you’re never certain that you aren’t one yourself.”

The queen and Thackery laughed.

“And my king,” she smiled, and wistfully looked off to the falls. At that very moment she could feel him grumbling away like a gray winter’s day in her heart, consumed in the staunchness of the march. He hadn’t whispered in her mind in many an hourglass, and the communications were becoming less and less frequent, even as his storm was building. She sighed again. “You know how he can be. As distant as he is beautiful. Sometimes I feel that I have married a dream. Only recently, a nightmare.”

Thackery patted the queen’s hand.

“Which leaves you as the only friend I have,” she admitted. “And you haven’t come to see me in thirty years. One might take offense, you know. I remember when we used to bump into each other, shy as sinners, in the quietest nooks and corners of the palace. You, to contemplate what Laws a fair nation should abide, and me to contemplate how a woman who had all the wealth and wants of Geadhain at her fingertips was still eluded by certain
joys. Once we’d gotten over our shyness, we came to trust each other.” Her chuckle was throaty and uncouth, with a bit of snorting. Thackery had missed it. “We told our stories—a sad man with a dark past, and a daughter of the desert. And they became bonds between friends. Almost as intimate as the man with whom I share my bed, my soul. Would you say, too, Thackery, that you’ve never had a friend like that?”