The Dark Throne (12 page)

“I had a pretty nasty encounter with dragon-smoke. I know the effects probably aren’t as severe for Sidhe, but is there a plan to deal with that?” Vell had told me that she had a plan, but I wanted to know what this plan actually involved.

“Yes.”

I waited for Calliea to elaborate, but she merely examined one of her throwing-daggers by the firelight. I frowned. “So what is it?”

She glanced at me and shrugged. “I do not know the details. The
vyldretning
will reveal all to us when it is time to prepare.”

My frown deepened. “And you are just going to trust that this solution, whatever it is, will protect us all against the dragon-smoke?”

“Yes,” she answered again serenely.

I blinked and opened my mouth to ask another question, but for once my sense of caution stopped me. I trusted Vell and the
ulfdrengr
with my life. I’d witnessed their marking by the White Wolf, and I’d crowned Vell. If she had told her warriors that there would be a protection against the dragon-smoke, I’d trust her as well…even though I wanted to know the exact mechanism of that protection. I chafed at the mystery of it, but a yawn softened my curiosity.

“Here.” Calliea paused in sharpening her blades to pour me a steaming mug of tea. I accepted it gratefully; the warmth seeped through the mug into my palms, calming the ache of my still-healing wounds. I breathed in the steam from the tea but looked at Calliea questioningly.

“Nothing to make you sleep against your will, or keep you asleep,” she said. “Just to help you slide into slumber. I drink it myself most nights.”

The tea tasted faintly of berries and black licorice. It warmed me deliciously, the heat spreading outward from my stomach to suffuse my limbs. I slid beneath the blanket and leaned back against the headboard of the bed, my eyelids beginning to feel heavy. “Wake me if Vell summons everyone?” I murmured, taking a last sip of the tea.

“I am sure you won’t need me to wake you,” replied Calliea enigmatically, “but I shall.”

“Thanks.” I slid down and burrowed into my pillow, letting the tide of sleep sweep me away. It was a rare dreamless night, and I slept deeply. I awoke to the sound of a hushed conversation by the banked embers of the fire. Glancing over to the fireplace, I glimpsed Farin, aura dimmed as though not to wake me, perched delicately on the back of an empty chair. She was deep in conversation with Sage. The Seelie healer rested his elbows on his knees, regarding the Glasidhe steadily. I strained to hear them, but the few low words I caught were in the melodious Seelie tongue. I sighed. So much for eavesdropping. The Sword pricked me at that thought, affronted that its Bearer would stoop so low.
For all your encouragement of a dalliance with Finnead or Luca, you’re really uptight about the stupidest things,
I thought at it in irritation. It responded by pacing in circles in my chest, its grumble vibrating through my spine.

I yawned and stretched conspicuously. Sage and Farin paused in their conversation, and Farin’s aura ignited like a struck match. “Tess-mortal!” she trilled.

“Good morning.” I smiled. “It is morning, right?”
There,
I said to the Sword.
Happy?

Sarcasm does not become you
, the Sword told me.

You’re just grumpy this morning
, I retorted.

Farin sprang into the air and twirled in the air above my bed.

“Interesting conversation?” I asked, smiling up at her.

“Oh, truly,” she said, wings sparking. “There is great news, Tess, great news!”

I sat up against the headboard, pushing my hair out of my face. “The choosing of the
vyldgard
? Has it started?”

“No, but just as exciting!” She turned a few more dizzying pirouettes.

I blinked. “It’s too early to be doing acrobatics like that.”

Sage chuckled. “You’ll get sick from watching her before she’ll tell you, I think.”

I turned my attention to him. “Well then, why don’t
you
tell me?” Farin traced figure eights around the ceiling, singing a fierce but melodious song in excitement. I raised my eyebrows. “It had better be something really important.”

“The Glasidhe queen arrived at the Hall in the early hours of the morning,” Sage said.

“What? Lumina is here?” I threw back the covers. “Are all of the Glasidhe here now? Where are they?”

“All of us gathered together again,” sang Farin, turning loops above the fireplace.

“Cousin,” said a new Glasidhe voice reprovingly. “Calm yourself. You do yourself a disservice, acting like a silly little glow.”

I located the source of the familiar voice above the lintel of the door, beside the open Glasidhe door cut into the wood. I couldn’t help the delighted smile that stretched my lips. “Flora!”

The Glasidhe who had taught me how to hold a sword properly and rode in my quiver on our mad gallop to escape Darkhill flew gracefully across the room. Farin turned a few more lazy pirouettes and then drifted down to alight again on the back of the empty chair.

Flora gave a courtly little bow to me. “My lady Bearer.” I could see her mischievous grin even through her brightly pulsing aura. She was dressed for traveling, in elegant yet practical clothes cut skillfully to her small lissome body: a black shirt and fawn-colored trousers complemented by knee-high black boots. She wore a sword on one hip and her quiver on the other—the Glasidhe wore their quivers at their waist so as not to impede their wings.

“Is Forsythe here? How has he healed?” I pulled on my boots and tied back my hair into a simple ponytail. My stomach rumbled and I grabbed one of the slices of bread and cheese from the plate on my bedside table—apparently it was restocked automatically, a policy of which I approved. I made a crude sandwich and took a bite as I slid the strap of the Sword over my head.

“My brother has healed quite well. Lady Lumina herself assisted in his healing, and the new Vaelanbrigh as well,” Flora replied seriously. “He still cannot fly long distances, and he does not like riding, but I think it will be a great advantage to him in battle.”

“Riding? What does he ride?” I asked in interest.

“A hawk,” Flora replied simply. “Quite a beautiful one, from the mews at Darkhill. They hadn’t quite tamed him, which was just as well.” She grinned that predatory grin that I’d missed. Forin and Farin had been good companions during the journey, steadfast and fierce, but Flora held a special place in my affections. She’d been with me before I was the Bearer; I felt a unique connection with those who had become my friend when I was just a mere mortal, brought into the Fae world so that the Vaelanbrigh of the Unseelie Court did not owe me a debt of honor for saving his life. They had known me and offered me their friendship when I was still merely Tess, and I’d never forget it.

“The new Vaelanbrigh has helped us greatly. Queen Lumina held council with Queen Mab shortly after you were anointed Bearer,” Flora continued.

Farin streaked across the ceiling and disappeared. I watched the neon trail of her aura fade, and then my mind caught Flora’s last words.

“What did you say about the new Vaelanbrigh?”

“I said he had helped us greatly.” Flora landed gracefully on my bedside table and faced me gravely. “Forgive me, I thought you had already known, Tess.”

“Known what? Flora, who is the new Vaelanbrigh?” I noticed that Sage had gone still, listening as well, but I didn’t care. It would be common knowledge soon enough.

“Ramel,” Flora replied. “Lord Ramel was chosen to be the new Vaelanbrigh, though he knew that Finnead is not dead. He was bound to Mab almost a full moon since.”

What little food I had in my stomach attempted to crawl back up my throat. I swallowed against the feeling of sickness. A terrible weight of responsibility pressed down on me. “I should never have told him that Finnead was still alive.”

“He would have rather known his shield-brother was still alive and risk Mab’s wrath than mourn him,” Flora replied seriously. “And would you have been able to lie to him, when he saw you in Darkhill?”

“No,” I said. I took a deep breath, trying to convince myself that Flora’s reasoning was logical. A still-frame from the vision of the last Vaelanmavar’s execution, his neck bared beneath Mab’s upraised blade, surfaced in my mind’s-eye, which didn’t help to calm my anxious thoughts.

“There is more,” Flora told me, her beautiful wings flickering idly as she tiptoed along a whorl in the dark wood of the table.

I rubbed my temples with one hand. My palm stung sharply as though reprimanding me. I raised my eyes and met Flora’s patient gaze. “Please, tell me.”

“Queen Mab has called the Court to war,” Flora said in a low voice, her aura burning with intensity. “The crowning of the High Queen awoke her to the necessity of action.”

“From what I gathered from Murtagh, it was all Mab could do to hold her own against Malravenar in Darkhill,” I said. “So how is it that the Court will go to war without Darkhill being lost?”

“We believe she intended to cast a protection much like Titania created around Brightvale,” replied Flora.

“But Brightvale is lost,” I pointed out.

“Not from Titania’s enchantment,” said the Glasidhe warrior.

“It was the power of the Crown of Bones that destroyed Brightvale,” agreed Sage from his chair by the fire.

“Thanks for making me feel so responsible,” I said drily. My hands prickled at the mention of the bright-burning ruby.

“You brought back our Queen,” Sage said, his eyes glinting in the firelight. “That is of greater importance to us than all the treasures of our citadel.”

“Fair enough.” I sighed. The Sword thrummed in its scabbard. I didn’t really know what it was trying to tell me, but that wasn’t unusual. I turned my attention back to Flora. “So what does it really mean, Mab called the Court to war?”

“They are preparing for the battle,” Flora replied gravely. “Soon they will start their journey. Lumina had hoped for exactly this, so we were ready to travel and left the Dark Queen’s palace after the Vaelanseld made the proclamation.”

“What happened to the Vaelanmavar?” I asked suddenly.

“I do not know. But there was a rumor as we left that Queen Mab would use his lifeblood to seal the protection around Darkhill.”

“Make the traitor a martyr,” Sage murmured. He looked at me perceptively. “We heard tales of the Vaelanmavar’s cruel nature, and his treatment of you in particular. Perhaps by sacrificing him to save the citadel, Mab will cast him as a redeemed transgressor, giving his life to preserve Darkhill.”

“How do you know about the Vaelanmavar,” I said, my question more of a statement. Even the formal title tasted sour in my mouth.

“Though the Courts were not aligned, it does not mean we still did not have certain friendships with those we had known before the closing of the Great Gate.” He shrugged. “It seems that will be useful now.”

“So what, there was a network of spies between the Courts?”

Sage closed his book delicately. “They were correct when they said you had no tact.”

“They? Who’s ‘they’?” I asked, affronted, but Sage continued on without seeming to hear me. Flora crossed her arms and glared at the Seelie healer disapprovingly.

“There were a number of us who thought from the beginning that the darkness rising in the Deadlands merited closer attention,” Sage said. “We thought it was more important than the differences keeping the two Courts from forging an alliance.”

I opened my mouth to ask another question but decided against it. I can have tact, I thought in irritation.

“There wasn’t ever direct communication, not in Faeortalam at least,” said Sage. “And I don’t really know how much I should tell you.”

“Really,” I said, raising one eyebrow. “You don’t know how much you can tell me.”

Sage opened his book again. “Exactly. It is a dangerous game we played, and even now might have repercussions if the wrong people hear of it.”

“Repercussions,” Flora repeated, flicking her wings. “You seem to forget who helped in your plans! Who were the message carriers for your little band of misfits?”

Sage smiled up at her with all his boyish charm. “No offense meant to your brave people, my lady.”

Flora muttered something beneath her breath and circled the ceiling.

“Well, your little spy games aside, what else have you heard about what’s going on at Darkhill?” My desire to find out about my friends in Mab’s court overruled my annoyance at Sage’s evasiveness. I thought with a vague stab of guilt about Molly. I hadn’t seen her since the day in the Royal Wood after the battle. She’d been my best friend, almost like a sister. What did that make me, if I was so easily able to discard my loyalty to her?
She changed,
said the voice in my head that usually hid in the shadows. But now it emerged, lured out of its lurking-place by my dark thoughts.
She changed, and then you changed. And you left her behind, just like you left everyone else behind after you became the Bearer.

“Not very many details, other than the basic shifts of power,” Sage replied. I tried to suppress my thoughts about the friends I’d left behind to focus on his words. “Trust me, I’ve already told all I should to Finnead.”

My eyes narrowed. Finnead had known Ramel had been baptized the new Vaelanbrigh, and he hadn’t told me? I filed that away for later use. Then I recomposed my expression, though Sage had reopened his book. “Well. If you hear anything else…I’d like to know.”

“With the Unseelie Court about to leave Darkhill, it’s all gone quiet. I don’t know much more than anyone else now.”

I made a sound of frustration at him. “Fat lot of use you are.”

“I’m not fat,” he replied without looking up from the page, “and I’m very useful, when I choose.”

“When you choose,” I repeated in sarcastic agreement. Flora returned from her circumnavigation of the room. I turned to her as she landed on my bedpost, her stance wide and her hands on her hips as though she were an explorer claiming a foreign land as her own. “Shall we go to pay your queen a visit?”

“Lady Lumina would be most glad to see you,” Flora replied with fierce glee.