The Dark Throne (9 page)

“It is to kill the Dark One’s pet monster, to send a message to him that we are bringing him war, and we shall slay even the mightiest of the creatures he commands.” The flash in Gray’s eyes turned into a savage light.

I wanted to ask how many Sidhe were riding out against the terrible beast, and how they expected to capture it, earth-bound as they were; but I closed my teeth on the questions. I didn’t want to sound like I had no faith in the valiant Seelie warriors’ skills…and yet I shuddered again as the image of the dragon surfaced in my mind’s eye. I had only glimpsed it briefly through the great cloud of smoke over the forest, but the sight of its gargantuan sinuous body and the wicked curve of its talons at the joints of its bat-like wings remained etched into my memory, clarity born from terror of those moments. “Did you see the dragon?” I asked Gray quietly. “When it was flying over the plains…did you see it?”

“No,” she said airily, flipping one of her braids over her shoulder. “But I do not need to see a creature before I kill it.”

“My shield-sister makes it sound so simple,” said a voice that belonged to the Unseelie Knight I’d passionately kissed the last time I’d seen him. I thought I saw a quick flash of irritation cross Gray’s face like a cloud briefly obscuring the sun, and I felt a small nudge of satisfaction. I wondered if her irritation was because Finnead gave weight to my question about the dragon, or if it was because he had called her his shield-
sister
. I was pretty sure even in Faeortalam, one didn’t go about kissing one’s siblings.

“Did you see it?” I reframed the question to Finnead, turning to face him. He wore his hair no differently, but a line of cobalt paint ran across his face from ear to ear, giving him a roguish look that fascinated me.

“For a moment.” He gave me a slight nod, as though he understood my trepidation.

“I guess the better questions are, when are we leaving, and can I paint my face too?” I raised one eyebrow, rewarded by that small enigmatic half-smile from Finnead.

“The scouts left this morning,” he replied. “When they return with a report of the creature’s location, we will ride out.” He tilted his head slightly to one side. “Most likely tomorrow morning. The beast has been patrolling closer and closer to the Sentinal Stones.”

“Testing the limits of Titania’s defenses for Malravenar,” I said.

Finnead nodded. “How intelligent the creature is, we are not entirely sure.”

“The library here is scant compared to what was lost at Brightvale,” Sage said from my other side.

“So you weren’t really catching up on your leisure reading.” I shook my head at him, smiling. He smiled in return. “I’m assuming you need to know exactly where to strike a dragon to kill it.”

“Actually,” said Sage, “if the books here are correct, the dragon is only armored with strong scales on its underbelly, head and part of its neck. Its wings are tough and leathery, so when it is on the ground with wings folded, that protects its back.”

I paused in thought, calling up all the mythology I’d gleaned from reading fantasy books. If only I’d known it would be of such practical use, even in just giving me comparisons to test my ideas, I would have taken notes, I thought wryly. “I’m used to dragons having soft underbellies in the stories we tell in the mortal world.”

“Certain kinds that don’t fly,” agreed Sage. “But this one, it is one of the great ones, not a lesser fire-worm. Its scales are as heavy as shields, and a true dragon does not have any natural enemies who attack it from above while it flies. It rests on high ground, and folds its wings as the shield for its back.”

A cool breeze suddenly swept down the table, the air touched with the icy scent of snow, and all the gathered Sidhe stood and bowed deeply in unison, some touching their foreheads in obeisance. Gray and Finnead bowed slightly from the waist, and I didn’t do anything at all, looking from the bowing Sidhe down the length of the great table until I caught sight of Vell and Titania entering the Great Hall from the far entrance. The Sidhe remained still as statues until the two queens passed them, and then they turned back to crafting their weapons for the dragon hunt and clearing the table from the meal. Titania wore a flowing, intricately embroidered white gown that should have looked out of place, but her graceful movements and radiant beauty made it seem ridiculous to think of her wearing anything less splendid. A simple crown of white daisies encircled her head. I smiled, remembering that she had worn white daisies in her braid the first time I’d met her in the ether. Vell wore breeches and a white shirt, an echo of her typical simple attire on our journey; but now a woven-gold belt gleamed at her waist and the gold circlet created by the Crown of Bones rested on her dark hair. I looked for Beryk and found him slinking along the far wall, practicing his concealment in the pockets of darkness where the firelight did not reach.

I watched the two women walk down the length of the hall, a study in contrast: Titania’s spun-gold hair and Vell’s dark head; the Seelie Queen’s graceful glide and Vell’s purposeful strides. Vell stopped briefly to inspect the spears stacked on the table, turning one of the shafts over in her hands and talking in an intense, low voice to the Seelie warrior crafting them.

“Tess, my dear, it is so good to see you healing well,” Titania said, approaching us and holding out her slender white hands to me. I stepped forward and extended my own hands. The Seelie Queen’s fingers were cool around mine. I felt a slight tingle as Titania’s power whispered across my skin, gently investigating my scars. I kept my eyes respectfully downcast, goosebumps rising on my arms. Finnead and Gray, too, kept their heads inclined.

“Thank you,” I said. Silvery scars laced Titania’s wrists where the cruel iron manacles had bound her Walker form in Malravenar’s prison.

“Come now,” said the Queen of the Seelie Court, slipping one hand from my grasp and sliding two fingers under my chin, raising my head. “You, out of all of us, need not bow your head, Lady Bearer.”

I raised my eyes, met by Titania’s serene gaze. The last time I’d had my head lifted by the fingers of a Sidhe Queen under my chin, Mab had pried into my skull by force, rifling through my memories to test my truthfulness after Finnead had brought me to the Unseelie Court. Titania’s power hummed quietly around her, but it was not the terrifying power of Queen Mab, with the baying of hounds and the crashing of waves upon frozen cliffs. I had no doubt Titania could be just as terrifying—perhaps more so—than the Queen of the Unseelie Court; but she wore her authority much differently. She inspired great respect in the subjects of her Court, rather than fear, and though I was trying not to take sides between the two Courts, I liked her much more. Her eyes, the blue of a cloudless summer sky, were filled with genuine warmth as she spoke to me.

“Please tell me, have you been well tended?” she asked in her mellifluous voice.

“Oh, yes,” I answered. “Sage and Calliea are taking good care of me.”

“And the High Queen as well, if I heard correctly,” Titania said.

“Yes, Vell stopped by to help with my hands.” I nodded.

Titania turned my hands over in her gentle grasp, examining the scars and the bandage still binding the center of my palms. “You shall have some scars, much like my own.” A small smile curved her lips. “But no lasting damage, I think?” She addressed her question to Sage.

“No, my Queen, the Bearer will suffer no lasting damage from her wounds,” Sage replied, head bowed respectfully.

The Seelie Queen nodded in satisfaction. “That is well.” She released my hands and lightly touched the scars on her own wrist with two slender fingers. “Scars are merely reminders of what we have overcome.”

I smiled. “I agree, Queen Titania.”

She nodded in satisfaction. “Good.”

Vell walked up behind Titania, her attention focused on the weapons laid out upon the long table. The Seelie Queen turned to the Northwoman. “What are you thinking, crown-sister?”

Vell crossed her arms as she surveyed the table and the Seelie warriors with painted faces and bowed heads. “I am thinking there is still much more work to be done.” She raised her voice. “That means you should be
working
, not bowing to me!”

The Sidhe sprang to life, some suppressing smiles as they continued crafting their weapons.

“What’s more important, killing a dragon or upholding some silly rules,” Vell grumbled under her breath as she approached our small group. I saw Titania herself give a little smile at the younger woman’s frustration with the courtesies of courtly life. “Tess, you’re up. Good. We could use another healer on the hunt.”

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but I seem to remember you agreeing to
no more dragons
,” I replied, emphasizing the phrase with a few hand gestures, rewarded with the sting of my protesting wounds.

“Well, that was before I had the power to kill it,” Vell replied simply. The circlet glinted on her brow.

“There are other reasons as well,” Titania said. “Though I do not look as fierce as my Northern sister, the strategy of war does not escape me.”

I frowned again.

“Didn’t think you’d be doing so much thinking, so soon after waking, my Bearer?” Sage murmured from behind me with a laugh caught in his voice. I threw a dark look at him over my shoulder before turning back to the two Queens. I thought I saw Titania regard Sage with a cool disapproval, like a mother chastising her son; but Sage’s head was bowed in respect—or to hide his amusement. I suppressed my sigh.

“We can’t move an army across the plains with such a deadly threat airborne,” I said to Vell and Titania.

“Very good,” said Gray in a low voice with one brow raised. I ignored her.

“I assume you have some sort of countermeasure for the dragon’s smoke though? I wasn’t a fan of its effects, and I’m not about to play healer to a couple dozen dragon-smoke victims.” I wondered whether Titania’s presence was an endorsement of this harebrained plan to go hunt a dragon.

Vell chuckled. “Yes, we’ve been working on something that should do quite well.” She smiled and shook her head. “That smoke knocked you out quicker than a pitcher of mead all to yourself.”

“Thanks for reminding me,” I said dryly. “But it seems as though you’re in a better mood.”

The High Queen grinned. “Of course. Killing things that need to be killed always brightens my mood.” She shifted her golden gaze to Finnead. “How are the wings coming along?”

I raised my eyebrows in real surprise. “
Wings
?”

“Twelve sets, and another twelve again almost finished,” Finnead replied. “They’re in the armory annex, if you’d like to inspect them.”

“Of course,” Vell said. “Come on then Tess, don’t stand there looking so surprised. You didn’t think I was going to send my warriors against a dragon from the
ground
, did you?”

Titania smiled at me and nodded regally to Gray and Finnead, gliding gracefully toward the great double doors at the other end of the hall. I followed Vell and her two Knights, and Sage trailed behind me as we walked quickly toward another door in the wall of the Great Hall.

“The wings are for the
faehal
of a few chosen warriors,” Sage explained quickly in a low voice. “They are built of birch and willow, fletched with eagle feathers for speed and strength, swan feathers for grace, and sparrow feathers for speed and agility.”

“I don’t understand,” I said over my shoulder. “The wings are for the
faehal
? Are they going to become flesh, or…?”

“In truth I do not know,” Sage replied. “There’s not much in our books about the North, other than their powers differ from ours greatly.”

“One of our particular talents is elemental workings,” Vell said just ahead of us. We passed through the armory, rows of gleaming weapons neatly stored in racks along the walls. Vell grinned at us over her shoulder as we reached the door of the annex; Gray took a key from a thin gold chain from around her neck and slid it into the door.

I frowned. “Elemental workings like wind?”

Her grin widened as the door opened. “Yes.”

Realization dawned on me as we entered the smaller room. “Vell!
You
saved us when we fell from the bridge over the Darinwel!”

“Well, it wasn’t
me,
particularly,” she replied with a little shrug. “I asked a favor of the zephyrs that were in the area and they obliged. And you took you more than long enough to puzzle that out, by the by.”

I shook my head, remembering the feeling of invisible hands slowing my harrowing fall toward the icy river. “I wondered about that. What other elements can you work with?”

“Wind, snow and ice are my strong suits, naturally,” said the High Queen, “though the boost from this has opened some doors.” She tapped the circlet with one finger. It seemed to wink and I thought I heard the faint echo of a sweet high-pitched bell, just beyond my hearing.

Another table dominated most of the space in the annex. A silken cloth covered the table and the objects upon it; Gray and Finnead efficiently lifted the cloth and folded it away. I caught my breath. Great wings spanned the table, with each pair carefully laid atop the last. The feathers gleamed in the light from the small orb overhead, a mosaic of colors and sizes artfully arranged to mimic the graceful contour of a bird’s wing. I could barely see the framework of thin, supple branches.

Vell stepped up to the table and examined the first pair of wings with a critical eye, pursing her lips thoughtfully. She tugged at one feather and nodded in satisfaction when it remained bound fast to the frame. Finnead and Gray watched her silently. Sage raised his eyebrows at me as if to say it was the most fascinating thing he’d seen in a while. Vell inspected each pair of wings, moving them carefully, running her fingers over the feathers and making a few adjustments to the arrangement of the different feathers. But finally, when the last pair of wings was spread in its magnificence over the table, she gave one sharp nod. “They will do. And the harnesses?”

“Rowan is working with the master of the stables to ensure they will meet your instructions,” Gray replied. “They will be ready by morning.”