The Dark Throne (69 page)

After the first Queen’s Council—Mab stared at me in distaste, Titania smiled gracefully and Vell spoke bluntly, all no surprise—I walked to the communal practice grounds for the first time, gathering Calliea, Merrick, Luca and Robin on the way. My brother and his three teammates were already there, Liam practicing with Quinn and wiry Duke facing off against the much taller, bulkier Jess.

“They’re getting better,” remarked Merrick as we strode toward the sparring circles drawn in the dirt. Then Duke, caught in a cross-body lock with Jess, resorted to sweeping the bigger man’s feet out from under him, crowing in triumph when the older fighter landed on his back in the dirt. Jess waited until Duke turned his back and then sprang to his feet with a startling speed, promptly putting the younger man in a chokehold. Duke’s victory celebration was abruptly cut off as he tried to wriggle free; he finally tapped on Jess’ forearm, his face a robust shade of crimson.

“Even if their style leaves a bit wanting,” Calliea added dryly.

“Maybe a bit rough around the edges, but they get the job done,” I replied, watching Quinn and Liam spar with a critical eye.

“Style doesn’t win points on the battlefield, as I was once told by a legendary vanguard commander,” Robin said brightly. Luca raised one eyebrow, unimpressed, and I chuckled. Robin grinned. “They say in the Unseelie camp that the High Queen’s
ulfdrengr
companions are as fleet as wolves and thrice as deadly. Apparently you’ve killed trolls with your bare hands and leapt up a mountain quicker than those on
faehal
.” He spread his hands expansively.

Luca shook his head, amusement gleaming in his blue eyes. “I wouldn’t want to kill a troll with my bare hands—my skin would smell of troll for weeks!”

“The rest of it is near enough to truth,” I said with a devilish smile.

“I set them right on the account of the troll,” said Robin with mock sincerity. “I told them it wasn’t a troll but an ogre, and you killed it with one blow.”

“Well, my appearance at these sparring grounds will disabuse them of my myth,” said Luca mildly.

“Or confirm it,” retorted Robin. He leaped away from my hand as I tried to swat him. “Now, Lady Bearer, you have your own legend to uphold!”

“Oh, and what do they say of me?” I returned as we found an empty practice ring and began unsheathing our blades. I slipped the strap of the Caedbranr over my head and laid it at the edge of the circle. The emerald in the pommel flickered; the Sword hardly ever slept now. I felt its power rumbling beneath my skin like a second heartbeat.

“They say the Bearer can become invisible at will, and has the strength of ten men,” Robin said with a flourish. “And you have slain
garrelnost
with only a boot-knife.”

“That last part is closest to anything true,” I remarked, striving to copy Luca’s mildly amused tone.

“Not a boot-knife, but a horseshoe,” said Finnead.

I stiffened, and instantly disliked that I’d reacted so obviously to his voice. Blood rushed to my face. Damn him and his cat-quiet stride, I thought as he glided toward our little group, his handsome face half-hidden in shadow. I realized that my friends had continued with their preparations, but there was a wary watchfulness beneath their movements now. Luca did not move any closer to me, but he suddenly reminded me of Kianryk when the big wolf scented danger, every muscle coiled. A rush of gratitude for their steadfast loyalty washed away my embarrassment and made me determined to handle the encounter gracefully.

“It was a choice of either a horseshoe or a bent old spoon,” I said, proud of the steady coolness of my voice. “I thought the horseshoe made a better weapon.”

The barest hint of a smile ghosted across Finnead’s lips. I pulled back my shoulders and focused on a point somewhere above the Vaelanbrigh’s left shoulder.

“I don’t question your judgment,” replied Finnead. “It certainly accomplished your goal.”

I gave something like a nod, hoping that my face obeyed my command to remain composed.

“Don’t let me interrupt your practice session,” he said to the group. But they ignored him, continuing in rather unnecessary preparations until I said, “Go ahead and start without me. I’ll join you in a moment.”

Robin and Merrick moved into the practice ring; Calliea stared at Finnead for a long moment, her heart-shaped face unreadable, and then she turned and touched Luca’s arm, walking to the next unoccupied ring. After another long moment, Luca followed her. As the ring of their striking swords echoed in the darkening air about us, I turned back to Finnead. The sapphire in the Brighbranr gleamed at his hip; he rested a hand on the hilt of his sword.

“Is your blade awake most of the time now as well?” I asked.

“Yes. All the powers are stirring,” he replied, his eyes such a dark blue that they were almost black in the twilight. His face gleamed white as bone, paler than I remembered. I wondered if he was sleeping well, and eating; and then I pushed the thought away, trying to stiffen my resolve to remain aloof.

“The Sword seems…eager,” I said, glancing down at where the Caedbranr lay. The emerald winked at me.

“As I am,” said Finnead in a low voice. His grip on the Brighbranr tightened for a moment, and then he shook himself slightly.

I took a deep breath and waited, forcing myself to remain silent. I had thought about this meeting often over the past days, mostly as I lay listening to Calliea’s steady breathing, waiting for sleep.

Finally Finnead said, “I came to make my apologies to you.”

I cursed the sudden tightening in my throat. “What have you done that you need to apologize?”

Finnead looked down at the ground for a moment, his lashes coal feathers against the whiteness of his skin. I clenched my jaw. He was beautiful to me, even now. His shoulders moved once, and then he looked up again, face perfectly serene.

“I must apologize to you for the words I have said, and the promises I have made,” he said, enunciating every word with courtly grace. “I fear I will no longer be able to keep those promises.”

I am a difficult man to love, make no mistake. I expect nothing. But know that I will always love you, no matter what the future holds.

His words to me in the Hall of the Outer Guard echoed in my mind, as unwelcome as the memory of his kiss. I raised my chin and said in a calm voice, “You’ve made me no promises, and as for the rest…” I shrugged. “If it is no longer true, it is no longer true.” I swallowed hard and willed myself not to feel. Now was not the moment to give in to the luxury of emotions.

“I am not saying it is no longer true,” Finnead replied, a strange undercurrent to his words. “But I am now bound by duty and honor to another.”

“Duty and honor.” I felt the words like twin pinpricks, but the pain was small and familiar. I’d heard the words from him before, and my voice remained steady. “So you are bound to an instrument of the Enemy?”

He winced slightly at that, and I felt a twinge of regret at my harsh words. But still I kept my face smooth, and waited for his reply.

“If she is now an instrument of the Enemy,” he said in a low voice, “it is through my failings that she is so.” He met my eyes with his own. “I have been raised to great honors while she has been crushed in the depths of darkness.” He clenched his jaw, the Fae-spark flashing through his eyes like lightning through a great thunderhead. “I have lived in the light of day while she has existed in the bowels of despair.” His voice shook slightly. I felt an empathetic tug at his words. “The pain I cause now…I wish I did not, just as I wish I had not told my mistress of her sister’s death those centuries ago.” He straightened, and again his hand tightened on the hilt of the Brighbranr. “But any pain I cause now is nothing compared to what she has endured because of my failings.”

A dull ache pulsed in my chest as I listened to Finnead’s words; it was a sad, resigned sort of pain. Somehow I felt lighter, and I recognized a relief born from closure. I knew I would always care for Finnead, but now I acknowledged the fact that the better part of my love for him had been passion, a whirlwind that had swept me up but now had run its course.

“So I will rescue her, whatever the cost to me,” continued Finnead in a low voice. “And if I can, I must bring her out of the darkness.”

I nodded. “I see.” A light breeze whispered over my face; I heard the clash and clang of the swords in the practice ring with strange clarity.

“I have told you true, Tess, that I will always love you,” he said, his words strained, “but I cannot deny my duty to her.”

“Do you love her?” I asked.

Finnead closed his eyes briefly. Then he set his shoulders and looked at me and said, “Yes.”

I took a deep breath. “Then I wish you success, but I’d remind you that your first duty is to the High Queen.”

Again a ghost of a smile drifted across his lips. “Yes, Lady Bearer.”

We stood looking at each other for a long moment. Then something broke in Finnead’s eyes and he took half a step toward me, raising one hand as though to touch my face. I shook my head.

“No,” I said, surprised at the gentleness in my own voice. “I don’t want to part angry, but I don’t want to part conflicted, either.”

His hand drifted back to his side. “Thank you.” I thought his gaze flickered over my shoulder, to where I thought Luca would be in the practice ring—or I might have imagined it.

“You’ve nothing to thank me for,” I said. I rested my own hand on the hilt of my plain blade. “I’m going to go join the practice session.” I nodded to him. “Vaelanbrigh.”

He gave me a graceful half-bow. “Lady Bearer.”

I turned and walked toward Luca and Calliea, resisting the urge to glance over my shoulder. The Laedrek and the
ulfdrengr
finished their sparring session just as I came near. Sweat gleamed on Calliea’s brow. She looked me up and down, as if searching for physical injury. I met her gaze, wondering what she saw in my eyes; but she merely said, “Come, then, Tess,” and raised her blade in invitation. I gratefully raised my sword and soon the burn of my muscles chased away any other thought in my mind. I sparred Calliea, and then Robin; Luca watched us and made corrections.

I stood with Calliea by the first practice ring, watching Robin and Merrick face each other with raised blades and challenging grins. My sweat-dampened shirt clung to my skin, and I plucked at it idly. The torches illuminating the practice grounds in the darkness threw our shadows over the ground in long jagged shards. As I watched Merrick and Robin spar, I saw a gathering at the edges of my vision, a group of dark-haired warriors coalescing around one side of the circle. I glanced at Calliea, who nodded to tell me she saw them. And then, at the other side of the circle, drifting as though aimless but somehow all gathering opposite the dark-haired fighters, there was a group of Seelie, their tawny skin gleaming in the torchlight.

The Sword still lay on the ground at my feet. I picked it up and slid the strap over my head. The scabbard pressed my sweaty shirt unpleasantly against my back. I glanced over and checked that the four mortal men still practiced in their own areas, but as if he felt my gaze, Liam stopped and they all looked sharply in my direction. I turned my attention back to Merrick and Robin—they either hadn’t seen the crowd or they were ignoring it. They were fairly evenly matched, both lithe and quick, their swords flashing as they danced about the ring, springing on light feet toward each other, pivoting and leaping. I wished futilely that the crowd would disperse so that Calliea might admire Merrick’s skill.

I wasn’t certain whether the Seelie or the Unseelie were the first to call out, but in a matter of moments the practice ring rang with shouts, the Seelie encouraging bright-haired Robin and the Unseelie backing dark-haired Merrick. Tension began to tighten the air. I shifted uneasily and glanced at Calliea.

“What’s all this then?” said Liam, appearing at my elbow.

“It sounds like an underground fight over here,” Quinn commented, frowning as he took in the opposing groups.

“They think it’s Unseelie versus Seelie,” I said in a low voice.

“Little do they know they’re both Wild Court,” said Calliea with raised eyebrows.

“You think anything’s going to go down, boss?” Duke looked to Liam.

“Tess?” My brother bounced the question to me, but I didn’t miss the way he shifted his body so that he was between me and the nearest unruly group.

“There’s no love lost between the two Courts,” I said, “but I don’t know whether they’d actually
fight
.”

“I was still out with the vanguard, but I hear tell that there were a few brawls when the Courts first met,” said Calliea without taking her eyes from the two men sparring in the ring. There was probably a dozen or more of the two Courts on either side now; some Unseelie fighters pacing the edge of the ring shot venomous glances over at the Seelie, who responded with laughter-laced shouts.

“I don’t like the way this is headed,” I said to no one in particular, “but we can’t leave Merrick and Robin in the middle of this mess.”

Calliea murmured wordless agreement, her sharp eyes roving over both crowds. Liam gave instructions in a low voice to his teammates. I couldn’t make out his words.

“Where’s Luca?” I didn’t see him among the still-growing crowd—it seemed that both Seelie and Unseelie were looking for an excuse to hurl cheerful insults and glare at each other, respectively. In their usual bright way, the Seelie seemed to think it a great joke, and I could see that the laughter incited the Unseelie observers to more passion than just interest in a friendly sparring match.

“Should we stop them? I don’t know what will happen when one of them finally stumbles.” Liam had to speak the question almost directly into my ear, his breath tickling my neck. Some of the shouting was in the Sidhe tongue now, so I didn’t understand all of it—but I didn’t need to understand the words to hear the intent behind them. The rage of the Unseelie delighted the Seelie, which only served to fan the flames.

I shook my head. “If someone steps in, it might set it all off.”