Foul is Fair (23 page)

That changed, commotion rising again, when a small band made their way in. While they were accompanied by a number of sidhe knights from the door guard, Cassia, Justin and the small band with them had all arrived free. Jude and the now-conscious Maxwell limped along at Cassia's sides, helping lead the small procession. Cassia marched towards the Queen. Despite the enchantments on the room, her glare was sufficient that of the accompanying knights and the Queen's guard, only General Inwar didn't put a hand to a sword hilt. Orlaith remained relaxed, lifting a brow and waiting.

Just as Cassia was about to speak, a greater commotion arose from the halls outside. All heads, including Cassia's, turned to try to figure out what the new disturbance was. Peadar led a band of mixed sidhe and redcaps, walking to escort Megan on either side. A crow was on one shoulder, a pixie on the other, and a groggy-looking Lani alongside. The red hood was pulled over her head, and she walked, head bowed in defeat. They were led up to the grand chair. Cassia's scowl grew deeper still, seeing the prisoners.

The Queen waved off the escort, smiling pleasantly as the girls were led to the front of the room. "So good to have you with us, Princess. And just in time. The Dance is about to begin. It would have been a shame had you missed it."

The red hood dipped lower, with no answer. Cassia tensed, but made no move. Justin stepped in, placing a hand on the red-caped shoulder, while Jude padded up next to Lani, nudging at her. Lani sighed, petting the leopard.

"Your father is supposed to be here any time now." This time, Cassia was clearly running into the enchantments on the room, straining a few moments, before settling for just glaring daggers at the Queen. Orlaith continued, not reacting or even looking at the satyr. "It's not like him to miss a party."

As she spoke, the Queen stood, walking down the steps and towards the open ballroom floor. The girls stepped aside, but Cassia and Maxwell held their ground. It was hard to tell which was growling more. Inwar finally moved, stepping down after the Queen, and a few of the guards closed in. Orlaith just waited, smiling pleasantly, while Cassia snarled and glared. "Surely you're not going to interfere with the Dance," Orlaith finally said.

Cassia looked about to say something, then finally stepped aside, dragging Maxwell along with her, allowing the Queen to pass. Orlaith stepped out onto the empty ballroom floor as the music began, waiting for her absent partner. Whispers and murmurs arose around the room, with numerous faeries looking around, and more than a few peeking out into the hallways.

Orlaith waited patiently, eyes on the doorway, unmoving. Finally, when the murmurs started to build in intensity, she spoke, cutting off the building commentary. "My fellows—" all eyes turned to her, and the room went quiet, aside from the music. As she was about to continue her concerned announcement, footsteps echoed through the halls outside. The sidhe knights stationed outside the ballroom moved inside, and into ceremonial position.

The figure who entered the room was in full armor for the occasion, six and a half feet tall of woven branches, covered in wicked thorns. A bejeweled ceremonial sword rested at one hip. The crowd parted, leaving a wide path open for the King to approach the dance floor and his partner.

Orlaith stepped forward. Neither her surprise nor her plans were relevant. Her partner was here. There were rules.

As was proper, a slow song began in 2/2 time, on a snare drum accompanied by a lute. As was proper, they formally progressed towards each other in 'hesitation steps,' like members of bridal parties walking down the aisle. They met at the center of the room, and each dancer raised an open palm.

As was particularly proper for the Seelie and Unseelie courts on their day of transition, the delicate glove and the briar gauntlet never quite met. The onlooking courts were used to seeing it, of course. It had certainly nothing to do with concern over physical delicacy or roughness. The always-half-an-inch of space between Orlaith's and Riocard's hands might as well have been a magnetic repulsion field—or maybe a field that was simply kept in flux, its attraction thwarted. Those who knew the King and Queen wouldn't necessarily be surprised.

Central to such a dance, of course, is the eye contact. The courts were used to this as well. But those watching the Queen this night saw something unusual as she stared past the mask, a series of flashes in her eyes: surprise, anger, appreciation, acceptance, and a return to the smooth decorum of the occasion.

As was ever proper, they made their way through formal steps in a slow procession. Each set of steps wove them in little curves of circles around each other, but all gradually took them towards the throne.

The steps were perfectly timed so that the briarmailed figure, in circling around Orlaith, reached the throne, offered her a low bow which Orlaith returned in a curtsey, and in the final notes of the song, sat.

As both courts stared in silence, full of unasked questions aside from certain exceptions, the briarmail began to slowly unravel from itself. Something in the air glistened as it did, as if the size and shape of the heavily enchanted armor had become...warped. And as the briarmail boots and legs spun their way apart, they revealed tennis shoes. Tennis shoes that belonged to someone far shorter than 6 feet. The gauntlets next fell away to reveal smaller, dexterous, lightly freckled hands. The mask and the rest of the briars unwound in turn, revealing a Seahawks cap, red hair, green eyes, and, in general, Megan O'Reilly.

Chapter 38: Return of the King

Even indoors, the effect on the season was obvious. A cold wind whipped through the open windows, chilling the ballroom. The near-tangible light that had suffused everything faded, replaced by a more natural moonlight, and after a few moments, a light fog rolled all the way into the ballroom. Megan felt a moment of invigoration and could feel a pull from the throne under her—the ballroom had accepted her.

Between her previous preparatory dancing lessons, Megan had learned that once the claim was established, she didn't have to stay in position the whole time. So she rose from the great chair and from the remainder of the suit, which had felt vaguely like trying to dance on stilts, but otherwise comfortable.

Confusion rippled through the room, with any number of reactions evident, but no one moved. Orlaith herself seemed to be taking the defeat far more gracefully than Megan had feared. Indeed, the Queen looked as if she'd gained a measure of respect for Megan, judging by her light smile and the look in her eyes. Orlaith curtseyed to the current…Unseelie Queen pro tempore? Autumn Regent? Megan had the chair; she did not have a grasp of the terminology. At any rate, the definitely-a-Queen, who was no longer currently reigning, went to stand with her General, who was looking about.

Megan looked around, too, noting some of the other changes in the room. The first and most obvious was Cassia. The satyress was grinning with every bit as much intensity as she'd glared before—the same intensity that had done a masterful job keeping the Queen from paying too much attention to others before her.

The next glance, as Megan stepped over, was for Red-Riding-Megan. For a moment, the twins stared at each other, before the Megan in the red cloak started to shift, the illusion falling away as she became much less obviously a she, and the androgynous form of Kerr took Red-Riding-Megan's place.

The brownie awkwardly removed a makeshift amulet made from elements of a first aid kit and offered it to Megan. “Here'syourbloodback, Highness,” Kerr muttered.

With a lot of eyes on the brownie, Kerr shuffled nervously from foot to foot. Kerr seemed about to say something else to Megan, mouth opening and closing. Then there was a glance to the Queen, looking apologetic and nervous, but still finding no words. Finally, Kerr looked at Lani, and flashed the little 'secret handshake' the two had shared before. Waking up a little, Lani returned the sign. Treaty and friendship acknowledged, but clearly still uncertain of anything beyond wanting desperately to be out of the spotlight, Kerr darted towards Maxwell to start tending to the leopard's wounds.

Lani got a hug from Megan. Not entirely dignified, but in Megan's mind, both necessary, and somehow appropriate that the Unseelie Princess…whatever of the moment be allowed her lapses in dignity even at the most obviously ceremonial moments.

She looked around for Ashling and the Count, to find the crow, with the pixie on his back, had perched on one arm of the great chair. Ashling made a gesture to the seat, obviously suggesting Megan should get back to business. Megan paused long enough to give each of the leopards a quick scratch, then went back up the steps. Just as she was about to sit, an even colder wind went through the room, and the howling of the wind briefly sounded almost like fanfare. As the wind faded, a chocolatey smooth voice called from the doorway, "I do believe that's my chair."

Megan blushed, looking around at all of the courts gathered around the room. She could still feel the great chair and its pull, but it was almost a relief to step aside, curtseying as formally as she could manage, and gesturing to the great chair, though she remained on the dais.

Riocard's coal-black hair ran wild down his back, and ice-blue eyes shown inhumanly iridescent from his oddly-angled face as he walked across the ballroom, winds carrying his whispers to Megan alone. "I'm certain your first royal decree was going to be to see me freed. With the surge in power from the changing of the season, I thought I'd handle that myself and save you the trouble. But thank you. Judging by Orlaith's face, I'd have to guess it was artfully done. You'll have to sing me the story."

Megan's grin grew as he spoke to her, becoming wider still as her father came up the steps of the dais and touched his armor. The vines wound around him, overlaying his ragged hunting clothes, covering him from head to toe until he touched the forehead with two fingertips, and the helmet portion unwound. The proper Unseelie King took his seat and looked out at his court.

"I'm sorry I'm late," were his first words to the assembled. "But it sounds like my daughter has been keeping you all entertained. And, speaking of my daughter, my season's boon on taking power is due. So for this year, my favor from the realm is... regardless of your feelings towards today's drama, all guilt for today's actions are upon me, and I hereby pardon myself without exception. No action is to be taken against her or her friends, mortal or faerie. They are under my absolute protection, and the realm will help to enforce the decree that any who seek revenge or harm against them do so against my wishes, and they will be banished to a certain cave of ice, to reside within a circle of salt for a century and a day. I trust I'm clear."

It was abundantly clear to Megan. After all the risks she'd taken, the gesture was obviously not only one of her father's regard for her, but his way of paying any debt he owed before anyone sought to make him say he owed her one. At once, she both realized she had no intention of doing so, and that he'd have entirely respected it had that been her first commentary to him. She was surprised, at first, how quickly that seemed to settle the matter in the court. Even some of those who looked the most irate at her little surprise looked much more relaxed now.

Riocard continued, having made his pronouncement, "Now then, critical business attended to, I have a question for all of you." He grinned, shifting from a formal position on the throne to leaning back against one arm at an angle, so he could put his legs up across the other arm of the chair, and gesture casually towards the room, looking far more at home now, "Why isn't anyone dancing? It's a party, after all."

At his words, the music began, and faeries of all sorts and sizes and descriptions took to the floor, closing ranks to find partners, starting to dance and whirl and jump amidst the low fog that had filled the room.

Orlaith still stood calmly with her general. Riocard looked to her, strangely intent but not hostile at all. “You'll save me the gavotte later, Majesty?” he called to her.

“Always, Majesty,” the Seelie Queen called back.

Finally, everything seemed right and comfortable in the realm... until Megan realized the song choice, doing a double take as she ensured she heard it right. After the formal dance of the change of power, the first dance of Riocard's seasonal reign was 'Yet Another Song About Jumping.'

Chapter 39: Resolutions and Revelations

After the party, Riocard was taking audiences. Megan stood at this side and watched, while Ashling and the Count remained perched on the arm of the chair, looking quite comfortable with the arrangement, aside from what Megan was pretty certain was a brief narrowing of eyes at the Gray Lady's back. The Unseelie may not so much forgive and forget, as just remember and forgive anyway, outside of keeping a closer eye on the suspected, but Ashling was still Seelie, after all.

“Counts-to-18,” Riocard said suddenly. “What's putting a rough edge on our Ashling's good mood?”

“Caw.”

“Well, I don't see how it isn't your place to say,” the Unseelie King debated casually. “You were asked the question.”

Megan, intending to save the crow and the pixie embarrassment—and have any reason to talk to her dad more—decided to explain. “We think the Gray Lady helped Orlaith coordinate the ambush and everything.”

“...Oh?” Riocard asked as the room got quieter.

Megan nodded. “She didn't want you rescued. Seems like she thinks you're too irresponsible and that the way to keep everyone out of danger was to let the Queen win.”