The Black Queen (Book 6) (55 page)

He had requested the audience, although Lyndred said he shouldn’t. Lyndred believed he should have charged into the Queen’s room, demanding time. But Bridge knew his place. He also suspected that his niece was making certain he remembered it.

He wasn’t sure what he had expected—royal treatment, perhaps? A friendly welcome? An embrace? Instead, she was proving herself every bit as difficult as her predecessor. It didn’t matter that Bridge had made a long journey to get here, nor that he had whipped his crew to near exhaustion to make it. All that mattered was her schedule, and the time she had to see people she hadn’t planned on.

It was not a good way to begin the relationship.

Lyndred sighed behind him, then slumped in the chair and closed her eyes. She had been quiet for the last two weeks, ever since Bridge had sent Ace to find Gift. The closer that the ships got to Blue Isle, the tenser Lyndred had become. When their Navigators and Nyeian experts negotiated the Stone Guardians, the dangerous rocks that protected Blue Isle’s natural harbor, Lyndred hadn’t even watched. She had stayed below decks and refused to see anyone.

Bridge was worried she wasn’t going to come with him to this audience. But she had. They had walked across the city of Jahn together—the distance from the harbor to the palace wasn’t that far—and it gave them a chance to see the city close up. It wasn’t what Bridge had expected. He had thought it would be something like Nye, all frill and business, only he had expected the frill to be weird religious trappings.

He saw no religious trappings at all. The buildings were simple structures covered with bright paint, and signs that notified someone if there was a business. The road was full of Fey and Islanders, and a handful young people who looked like they could be a combination of both. There were no signs of war, no remnants of the violence that must have held Blue Isle in thrall over a decade before—at least none he could recognize. Of course, he didn’t know how this city had looked before the Fey arrived, so he had nothing to compare it to.

Behind him, a door opened. Bridge turned. Lyndred sat up and opened her eyes, then stood as a woman walked into the room.

The woman was in her early thirties. She had a regal face. There was some softness to the cheeks, and her skin was a light brown instead of the dark brown that most Fey had. But it was her eyes that were startling: a vivid blue against the dark skin. The color made them seem colder than any eyes Bridge had ever seen before, like chips of blue ice. There was no fire in them at all.

The birthmark proved her to be Arianna, Black Queen of the Fey.

“So,” she said in haughty, unaccented Fey. “Bridge arrives at last.”

There was a certain familiarity to her tone, a way of speaking that reminded him of his grandfather Rugad. As she watched him formulate his response, her blue eyes glinted with amusement.

What had his daughter said about her Vision of Arianna?
The Black Queen has a very cruel face
. It was accurate, more accurate than Bridge wanted to acknowledge.

Bridge tilted his head. He had to look up at her slightly. How powerful was this woman? “I thought perhaps you’d welcome us to Blue Isle.”

“Welcome you?” she asked. “The man my great-grandfather rejected for the Black Throne?”

Bridge’s mouth was dry. How had he made such a miscalculation? He had thought this woman would need his help, that she would be more Islander than Fey, that she probably had no idea how to run the Empire, which was why she was changing everything. But he was wrong. She was pure Fey and as blunt as Rugad, maybe more so.

Lyndred was watching with a keen interest. It was for her, not for him, that Bridge decided to fight back.

“Perhaps I have wasted too much time on Nye,” Bridge said. “I expected courtesy when I arrived here.”

“We only extend courtesy to those who deserve it. What’s your business here?”

“Apparently I have none,” Bridge said. He didn’t wait to be excused. Instead he pushed past his niece and headed for the door. Lyndred followed him.

“And who’s this?”

Bridge turned, hand on the door knob. Arianna had a hand on Lyndred’s arm. They were of a height, and they looked amazingly alike, except that Lyndred’s face was narrower, her skin darker, and her black eyes were filled with life.

“My daughter.” Bridge turned the knob. “Lyndred. Come on.”

“Lyndred.” Arianna hadn’t let go of her arm. “You were an infant when Rugad left Nye.”

Lyndred’s eyes narrowed. “So?”

Bridge took his hand off the doorknob. He hadn’t expected this.

“And you hadn’t come into your magick yet.” Arianna took Lyndred’s face and inspected it. “You look like Jewel.”

It was strange to hear her refer to her mother that way. And she seemed to sense it, because she added, “There’s a portrait of her upstairs that could be you.”

That was it. Arianna favored her mother, and Lyndred had the same look. They could have been sisters.

“What kind of magick did you end up with?”

Lyndred yanked her face out of Arianna’s grasp. “I’m a Visionary,” she said. “And from what I’ve seen around here, I’m a better one than you.”

Bridge sucked in his breath. His impulsive daughter also acted like Jewel sometimes. Speak first and think later.

A slight color touched Arianna’s cheeks, but to Bridge’s surprise, she smiled. “Do you think so?” she asked in that haughty voice. “Maybe we should compare Visions.”

Lyndred raised her chin, apparently unaware she had been baited. “I Saw you long before I came here. And you’re surprised by me.”

“Perhaps you’re not important to my life,” Arianna said. “Or to the Empire.”

Bridge let out the breath he was holding and almost—almost—argued with her. But after this, he wanted nothing from her. He had wasted a month of his life traveling here, and for what? A few insults, an embarrassing meeting with a woman too proud to know she needed him?

“Come on, Lyndred,” he said again.

Lyndred shot an angry glance at Arianna, then started to follow her father.

Arianna watched them both, the amusement Bridge saw earlier still glinting in her eyes. “You came here for something. Did you need my help in some way? Do you want another small assignment? Are you tired of Nye?”

“I don’t need you. And what I came here for no longer matters.” But because he was angry, he added, “I will give you one piece of advice, completely for free. The next time you send a Gull Rider on an important mission to Vion, send an experienced one.”

Those cold blue eyes grew even colder. “I sent no Gull Rider to Vion.”

“She said you did.” Lyndred spoke with obvious relish. “She said you were sending for Gift.”

The blue eyes were terrifyingly cold now. Bridge had seen that look before. He had learned how to watch for it in his grandfather’s eyes, and how to get out of the way when Rugad was that angry.

“Is that why you came here?” Arianna asked. “To put in your bid as the Black Ruler should I die?”

“No,” Bridge said. “We were already halfway between Nye and Blue Isle when the Gull Rider crashed on our ship. She never would have made it across the sea if it weren’t for us.”

“I did not send her,” Arianna said. “I would have sent someone competent.” She folded her hands together. “So someone sent for Gift. Someone has been worried.” Her smile was small. “I know how to take care of this.”

“Good,” Bridge said. “Then at least we served some purpose here. I hope you don’t mind that we stay and explore the Isle. My crew is tired, and I really don’t want to tell them to turn around and go back.”

“That was always your problem,” Arianna said as if she knew. “You never wanted to confront the hard issues.”

Bridge stared at her. That had always been his problem. He had too much compassion for a Black Ruler. But he had no idea how she had known that.

She clasped her hands behind her back. “You’ve come this far. I suppose I should be hospitable and give you rooms in the palace. Bring your things here. Keep your ships in Jahn harbor. We may have use for them.”

Lyndred looked at Bridge in confusion. Bridge didn’t move. He had a feeling that moments earlier, Arianna had been ready to send him away, to never see him again. But something changed that. The mention of Gift? Or was it something about Lyndred?

“Thank you for your offer,” Bridge said. “We would love to stay here.”

Lyndred’s eyes widened, and then she shook her head slightly. But Bridge wanted to stay. Something was unusual here, just as he had suspected. He wanted to find out what it was. He added, just so that Arianna knew he was aware of her change in attitude, “We’re grateful for your courtesy to unexpected visitors.”

Arianna laughed. “I don’t believe in courtesy,” she said. “I believe in expediency. It’s obvious you have information that might be useful to me. And it’s been a long time since I’ve seen family. Too long.”

She was looking at Lyndred, her expression speculative. Bridge wasn’t sure he liked it. Maybe Lyndred had been right. Maybe coming to Blue Isle had been a mistake.

He just wished he had enough Vision to know.

THIRTY-FIVE

COULTER STOOD at the edge of the magick yard, watching Matt work on his fire spells. In the two weeks since he’d taken up permanent residence at the school, Matt’s fire spells had grown in complexity. He could now create a fireball and change it into something else without calling it back to his hand. This afternoon, he was creating fireballs that did not consume anything in the physical world. He was rolling them across the dirt to test this, and if they left a burnt trail, he knew he was doing something wrong.

So far, he had only gotten about fifty percent of the fireballs right.

The boy had incredible talent, more than Coulter remembered having at that age. The only difference between them was that Coulter had spent his first five years among the Fey, and he had known through observation that there were no limits to a good Enchanter’s magick.

Matt had spent most of his life in a family that had taught him to deny what he was. Some magicks still scared him. Coulter worried that they always would.

Matt had a lot to overcome. He wasn’t talking about the death of his father, although Coulter had asked him for details. Matt had told him what he knew, and Coulter explained the Mysteries, Jewel, and the long fights she had had with Matt’s father. And then Coulter had calmly told Matt that his father had been right; once inside the Roca’s cave, Jewel would not let him out alive.

Matt had taken the news calmly, just like he took everything else. And that calm was the most dangerous thing about him. He should have been angry or unable to stop the tears. Coulter felt that way even more when he realized that Matt had cut himself off from his family, and wouldn’t speak of them. The boy had lost everything, and pretended as if nothing happened.

Over the next few weeks, in addition to all the preparations Coulter had to make, he had to take care of Matt. The last thing he wanted was for Matt to become as twisted and dangerous as his father had been.

Matt looked up from his work, saw Coulter, and waved. Coulter waved back. Then Matt absorbed the fireball into his hands, brushed them together and held them out to show Coulter that the ball was gone. Coulter nodded.

Matt walked up to his side. The boy seemed to have grown just in the time Coulter was away. “Seger’s been looking for you,” Matt said.

Coulter suppressed a grimace. The work he had been doing with Seger had been tricky and tiring. He wished he had time to rest.

So take some
, Arianna said.

He started. He had thought she was in the small house she had made for herself inside his brain.

I’m doing this for you,
he thought back to her.

No you aren’t,
she said.
You’re tired of having company in your head.

There was more truth to that than Coulter wanted to admit.

“You all right?” Matt asked.

Coulter then realized he hadn’t responded. He had been doing that a lot lately, ever since Arianna had joined him. No one except Seger, Sebastian and Con knew that she was a part of him. He thought it better that way.

“I’m fine,” he said. He put his arm around Matt. Coulter had been making such gestures since he’d come back. He didn’t know if it was Arianna’s influence, or if his worry about Matt that was making him do so.

“You done with your practice today?”

“I have to do water drills, and then I’ll be done,” Matt said.

“Well, then,” Coulter said, squeezing Matt’s shoulder and then releasing him. “Go to it.”

Matt nodded and ran back to the yard. There was a section of dirt that flowed downhill that was especially useful for water spells.

I worry about him
, Arianna said.
He’s so lonely
.

Coulter didn’t answer her. She already knew how Coulter felt about this. She knew everything about him and, strangely, that wasn’t what he minded about sharing his brain with her. Sometimes he just wanted to have a thought all to himself. His love for her hadn’t changed. If anything, it had grown. He was just realizing how important privacy was.