The Seven Year King (The Faerie Ring #3) (13 page)

“All right,” Tiki said doubtfully, looking at Rieker for his opinion.

“They gather each day while we rule Faerie,” Larkin continued, “and oversee the governing of many parts of our world.” She gave a soft snort. “If you want to feed all the beggars in Faerie, you’d better start by convincing the Court that it’s in our best interest.”

“Fine. Where do we go?”

Something shifted in Larkin’s eyes. “There is no ‘we’. You are the queen—
you
need to attend.”

“But I want Rieker to attend with me.”

Larkin put her hands on the table and leaned forward. She spoke softly, as if she didn’t want the Macanna who guarded the door to hear. “William is not your equal here. It would be inappropriate for him to attend Court as your consort.”

“My con—” Tiki’s mouth dropped open as she looked to Rieker for an explanation. He had stopped pacing, his gaze steady on Larkin. Tiki whipped back around to face the faerie. “What are you talking about?”

Larkin’s lips twitched as if she found their conversation amusing. “Surely you realize he’s a half-breed here in Faerie.” Her eyes skimmed Rieker with a mocking light. “Barely trustworthy, and really only qualified to be a servant to those in Court. Certainly not good enough to serve the queen.” She straightened and gave Rieker an appraising once-over. “William must prove himself in our world, though even if he does, he’ll have a terrible time ever convincing anyone that he’s a match for a royal.”

“But that’s absurd,” Tiki protested.

Larkin arched her eyebrows. “Really? Don’t you find it amusing that your roles have been reversed? In London as a
pickpocket
—” she sneered the word— “you were an incomprehensible match for Lord Richmond. Even as a middle-class orphan the two of you moved in worlds that rarely intersected. Here, William is an equally inappropriate match for you.” She heaved an exaggerated sigh. “It never ends well for star-crossed lovers, does it?”

“I don’t care what society here thinks about any of this,” Tiki spat out. Anger bubbled in her veins and she clenched her fists. “I am the queen and if I want Rieker with me then I’ll bloody well have him.”

Larkin laughed out loud at Tiki’s temper. She waggled a finger at her. “Tsk tsk, guttersnipe, do you really want to start your reign like this? Having Donegal seeking revenge isn’t enough? Now you want to do battle with your own Court?”

Rieker spoke up. “Tiki, she might be right. Now isn’t the time to make an issue of what class I’m considered here. We’ve got bigger problems to worry about.”

Tiki fought the urge to stamp her foot. Was he agreeing with Larkin
again?
“Fine,” she snapped. “I will ignore this ridiculous conversation for now because I need to return home as soon as possible and take Fiona with me—” she pointed her finger at Larkin— “but mind my words, Rieker will join me at Court.” She reached for his hand. “Because he is the one and only person I know I can trust here.”

“You may think you can trust him,” Larkin snapped, her mood shifting yet again, “but
I’m
the one who gives you answers and the knowledge you need to survive here. You need
me
to command and control this kingdom.” Her eyes narrowed. “I would suggest you don’t ever forget it.”

RIEKER WENT TO check on Fiona while Larkin led Tiki in the opposite direction. Behind them, Callan trailed at a discreet distance. His constant presence was wearing on Tiki’s nerves and she began to look for ways to escape his watchful eye.

“Court meets in the High Chamber of Ladies and Lords each day.” Larkin gave Tiki a sideways glance. “This will be a pleasant surprise for them. They’ve been especially curious about you.”

“Majesty.” A voice squeaked from behind them.

Tiki glanced over her shoulder but no one was in sight. As she was turning away, a small figure emerged from the shadow of one of the great columns. Tiki recognized Ailléna’s hunched form.

“Thank you for the food, your Grace,” she said in a hoarse whisper.

Tiki paused, and squatted down so she was eye level with the ugly little creature. Ailléna’s bottom teeth were razor sharp and protruded up over her upper jaw, but she was in such a pathetic state, Tiki found it difficult to be afraid of her. “You’re welcome. Are you feeling better? I see you’re able to walk on your own now.”

“Yes’m.” Ailléna bobbed her head. “Most I’ve had to eat in more years than I can count.”

Tiki tried not to react, though the idea that anyone had gone hungry for so long was upsetting to hear. “I struggled to find enough food myself for a few years,” she confided. “It can be very difficult to be hungry all the time.”

Ailléna gasped. “You, Majesty? But how can that be? You’re a queen. You have everything.”

Tiki bit back a laugh. If only the little creature knew the truth.

“I don’t think anyone has everything,” she murmured, “even if you are queen. But from now on,” she put her finger gently on Ailléna’s chest, “you will have enough to eat.” Nearby, Callan cleared his throat in warning.

“Come along.” Larkin tugged at Tiki’s arm. “You’ve more important things to do.”

Tiki stood. “I’ll look for you in the Great Hall at supper.”

Ailléna fell to her knees. “Your Grace is the kindest queen we’ve ever had. Blessings on you, Majesty.”

“Enough already.” Larkin’s lips curled in disgust as she tugged Tiki away, mumbling under her breath. “Nothing more than the scum of the earth, and you treat her like she’s a bloody relative. ‘
I’ll look for you in the Great Hall,
’” Larkin mimicked.

“Not every heart is as cold as yours,” Tiki replied, nonplussed by Larkin’s reaction.

“Be careful,” Larkin snapped. “Or she’ll bite the same hand she pretends to kiss.”

They continued down the hall, their dresses flowing behind them, creating a shushing noise as they walked. The faerie steered them around a corner and stopped before a pair of mammoth plank doors. Two red-coated guards stood on each side, clutching razor-sharp spears. A variety of other weapons glittered from their belts. Larkin spoke in her normal, arrogant tone. “Queen Tara has arrived for Court. Please announce us.”

With a sharp salute, the guards jumped into action, simultaneously sweeping the doors open to provide an unencumbered view of the High Chamber. Tiki’s eyes widened in surprise. She’d been expecting to see another opulent room with grand columns and gold-filigreed walls, but instead, the room that stretched before them looked like an enchanted wood—there were no walls, only forest in every direction as far as the eye could see.

The floor was covered in moss, making Tiki long to kick off her shoes and run barefoot across the spongy ground. In the distance, the sound of a brook singing over stones drifted toward Tiki, along with the voice of the forest—birds chattering, animals scuttling through the undergrowth, the rustle of the leaves in the wind. Shafts of sunlight beamed down through the branches of the trees and Tiki had an overwhelming sensation that they’d somehow been transported to the Wychwood Forest.

As though in protection, a giant tree stretched its leafy canopy over a great wooden table filled with faeries of every shape and size. At the far end of the table an elaborately carved chair sat empty.

“Why, it’s the Queen,” a familiar voice cried.

Before Tiki could connect who the voice belonged to, someone sprang up to land gracefully on the table. Tiki recognized the Court Jester, his gaudy outfit impossible to forget. Yellow streaks stretched from his eyes, making them look like miniature suns and the bells on his three-point hat jingled as he artfully pranced down the center of the table.

“I thought he was with Donegal’s court,” Tiki whispered from the side of her mouth.

“The Fool knows only one court—that of Faerie,” Larkin said. “He has no allegiance to a Seelie ruler or an UnSeelie ruler. He knows only the truth, which he shrouds in wit and puns, for fear we will realize how truly perceptive he is.”

The Jester began to chant in a sing-song voice, striking a pose with each stanza:

“At long last the faerie queen shows her face

An unequaled beauty with effortless grace

Crowned by the cry of the Tara Stone

Will she stay long enough to grace the throne?”

Tiki frowned at the gaudily-dressed man. How had he known she wanted to leave? Had Larkin told him?

“Or will she seek an impossible quest

A treasure not to be possessed

And when the weak to death concede

Will the long-sought prize answer those in need?”

Tiki glared at Larkin. Had she put the Jester up to this? Riddles and puns and secrets hidden in layers. There seemed to be some veiled message in the Jester’s verse, but what? Why couldn’t anyone just speak plainly in this world?

“Queen Tara Dunbar MacLochlan,” the guard cried and both men stamped the staffs of their spears on the hard floor.

By now, everyone who had been seated at the long table had risen to their feet and faced where Tiki stood by the door, their faces etched with curiosity and expectation. They each wore a crimson cape, the color of the wine her father used to drink, the rich fabric shot through with gold thread.

The Jester held his arms out wide and bowed. “Welcome back, Majesty.”

Tiki gave a stiff nod of acknowledgement and followed Larkin, not sure what to make of the Jester’s verse. With little fanfare, Larkin swept along the length of the table introducing lords and ladies as they went.

“Conrath, Morgan, Flaherty and O’Donoghue, they live…” her explanations blurred into a drone of information that Tiki couldn’t possibly retain. They reached the far end of the table where the lone chair sat. Larkin snapped her fingers and a second, almost identical, chair joined the first. She motioned for Tiki to take the seat, and pulled up her own chair.

“Let the meeting be brought to order,” she said in an imperious tone, as though she were used to running the Court. The other faeries took their seats and the order of business was discussed.

THOUGH THE TOPICS were interesting and the members of the High Court intriguing, Tiki struggled to follow the conversation. Thankfully, Larkin directed much of the meeting.

While she listened, a nagging sense of urgency tugged at Tiki with unrelenting persistence. Where was the
liche
? How could they track him down and stop him once and for all? Where was the cup they needed to find to save Johnny and how much time did the young boy have left? And where was Dain? A sick feeling twisted in Tiki’s stomach. Was Donegal torturing him even now? A pang of longing speared her chest as she thought of Clara, home alone at Number Six. Tiki squirmed in her chair, fighting the conviction that she needed to be multiple places at once.

After what felt like hours, Tiki nudged Larkin under the table with her toe. The first time Larkin ignored her, continuing to verbally spar with some Lord about the consequences of regulating the water use of the Avon river.

The second time, Tiki wasn’t as gentle. She trod hard on Larkin’s toes while she stared at the faerie’s face, hoping to catch her eye. A grimace of pain shot across Larkin’s features and she turned to glare at Tiki.

Tiki stood up abruptly.

“Thank you all so much for your hard work and dedication to our Court. I must leave you now, but please do carry on with your much-needed efforts.” She flicked a hand at Larkin as if commanding a dog. “Come Larkin.”

Tiki swore she heard Larkin growl behind her, but the noise was lost as everyone at the table scooted their chairs back and jumped to their feet as Tiki swept by. She practically flew up the steps, reminded of the time she’d run from Buckingham Palace, having just returned the ring she’d stolen.

As if magically sensing her approach, the guards pulled the doors open and Tiki walked through with her head held high, trying not to sprint toward the entry that would lead outside to the zagishire. Callan, who had been waiting impatiently outside the door, hurriedly fell into step behind her.

“Where are you going?” Larkin snapped from behind her as Tiki marched down the hallway. Tiki didn’t slow, but turned to answer over her shoulder. “I’ve got things to do.”

Larkin’s eyes became shrouded. “Such as?”

Exasperation made Tiki’s voice sharp. “I’m worried about Johnny and Dain and my family and where the
liche
might be and—” she jerked around, her hands on her hips— “why there are faeries starving in a palace overflowing with opulence.”

The faerie’s jaw tightened and she raised her nose with an imperious air. “There are centuries of history at play here of which you have no grasp. I couldn’t possibly explain it all to you while we stand here.”

“You don’t need to explain it to me,” Tiki snapped. “I can see for myself what is happening. There are faeries within the Seelie Court who are starving while others feast.” She and her family had gone hungry too many nights while the wealthy in London had more food than they could possibly eat in a lifetime. She would not let such inequity occur in Faerie if she had any control over the circumstances. “I plan to make sure there is food for all.”

TIKI FOUND RIEKER and Fiona in Johnny’s room. She could see at a glance that Fiona had been crying and Rieker’s face was tight with concern.