31

Summoned

After the commotion, everyone went back to their own business. Pan righted the chairs that Rikky had knocked over, and then he slumped into one of them. I sat down next to him and put a hand gently on his arm.

“Sorry about all that,” he said, frowning.

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“I never meant to lead her on or anything.” He ran a hand through his dark curls and stared off at the sun slowly dipping below the treetops. “I was trying to let her down gently, and I didn’t want to use you as an excuse not to be with her. Because even if I never met you, I don’t want to be with Rikky anymore. But I guess I should’ve been more blunt about it with her.”

Just then, a waitress came over and set a mug of ale in front of Pan. “This is from the little guy at the bar.”

I looked over to see Elof, raising his own mug to Pan. Pan smiled and took a long drink. We sat at the table a while longer, him sipping his ale. I don’t know that we ever completely shook the tension from Rikky’s angry outburst, but by the time we decided to head back to our rooms, Pan was smiling and I felt a lot more relaxed. Bryn and Elof seemed in good spirits.

When we got to our rooms, we parted ways to freshen up before we figured out what to do next. Bryn went into our room first, but Pan took my hand and pulled me back toward him.

“I forgot to tell you before. You look really beautiful in that dress.”

“That’s funny because you did already tell me that,” I said with a smile. “Twice.”

He kissed me, gentle and sweet. “Maybe I can talk to Elof and see if he wants to hang out with Bryn for a little while, so we could have the room to ourselves.” Then, quickly, he added, “Just so we can watch a movie on the laptop or something. I’m not suggesting Netflix and chill. Just the Netflix part.”

“What are you talking about?”

“That was just a convoluted way of asking if you wanna hang out later?” he asked.

I nodded. “Yeah. Just come knock on my door when you’re ready.”

I finally went into the hotel room, and Bryn was lying on her bed, texting someone on her phone.

“You want me to clear out of here so you can have some time alone,” she said as I sat on the bed and she never looked up from her phone.

“Uh, no, I would never ask you that,” I stammered.

“So you guys weren’t just making out in the hall?” she asked.

My cheeks reddened. “That was hardly making out.”

She finally looked over at me. “I could just as easily go text Ridley from the lobby. They have a bench there that’s slightly softer than this bed. It’s no big deal.”

“I don’t know. I guess, maybe, if it’s no big deal,” I said sheepishly. It felt rude kicking her out of our room, but she’d offered, and honestly, I would love to spend some alone time with Pan. We’d had hardly any since the Lost Month.

A knock at the door came before she could respond, and I hurried to answer, assuming it was Pan. But when I opened the door, it was Margarit, the bespectacled front desk clerk.

“Sorry to disturb you, but um . . .” She adjusted her glasses. “The palace called, and the Queen Regent has requested your presence, along with that of Mr. Dómari.”

“Just the two of us?” I asked.

“Yes, they requested only Ms. Tulin and Mr. Dómari,” she said.

“When do they want to see us?”

“Now, miss,” Margarit said. “I went ahead and told Knut, and he has the airboat all ready to go.”

“Okay,” I said, because I didn’t know what else to say about the Omte Queen summoning me for no apparent reason.

“If you need a moment, I still need to tell Mr. Dómari,” she said.

“Yeah, thank you.” I closed the door, and the sangria that had so nicely warmed my belly a couple hours ago now left it a burning sour pit.

Bryn was standing when I turned back around. I hadn’t heard her get up, but she moved like a silent ninja when she wanted to. “Do you want me to go with you?”

“I mean, I don’t think you should. Since the Queen didn’t request you, and it sounds like she doesn’t really like you.”

“Do you know what she wants?” Bryn asked.

I shook my head. “No idea.”

“I should go with.” She moved toward her luggage, where she stored a dagger and calfskin sheath.

“No, no, no.” I held up my hands. “I don’t think that’s necessary. Elof and I have faced worse than Queen Bodil. We can handle this.”

“Fine.” Bryn straightened up. “But if I don’t hear from you in an hour, I’m storming the palace.”

With that settled, I went into the hall and met Elof. As we rode the airboat through Fulaträsk, we speculated about why the Queen was calling us down to meet her. Elof guessed it had something to do with Rikky, either our visit to the clinic or the incident at the Ugly Vulture.

“I don’t know. It sounds like there’s incidents there a lot,” I said. “The King died there.”

“I’ve heard that before,” Elof said.

“He was a good King,” Knut said, apparently overhearing our conversation. “A strong, just man who died among his citizens. It’s a good death, because he died the way he lived, and our memory honors him.”

The Omte palace finally came into view, but it was a squat building, nearly flush with the swamp around it, and moss covered the walls, so it wasn’t that conspicuous, compared to all the other palaces I’d seen. The only real ostentatious features were the Gothic vulture statues on the eaves.

Knut waited in the airboat, and a palace guard led me and Elof inside. If he felt the same dismay I did when I first saw the musty interior of the palace, with its spiderwebs and snails on the walls, he didn’t show it. Elof wore his usual expression of polite curiosity.

The Queen was waiting for us in the same parlor where she’d received me before. The large stained-glass window—depicting a black vulture stained with crimson blood—gave the room an eerie glow. The knickknacks on the shelves that lined the walls still managed to catch the dim light, glinting on the jewel-encrusted statues made of dark wolfram—the dragons encircling orbs and ravens on topaz trees.

Across from the window was a large painting of King Thor, his grinning face taking up nearly all of the wall.

Bodil stood in front of the stained glass, her back to us with her long black hair plaited down her back. The long black dressing robe she wore was sheer, revealing the silhouette of a black floor-length nightgown that showed off muscular arms.

She looked over at us. Her face was unusually devoid of makeup, making her look more tired than when I had seen her last. Her protruding eyes seemed a bit smaller, her lips even thinner, but she was still rather lovely, in her own way.

“Thank you for seeing me at such a late hour,” she said.

“It’s not that late,” Elof assured her, and he wasn’t even lying to be polite. The sky was still light.

We stood in front of the velvet love seat, but neither of us sat until Bodil took her seat across from us.

“Why did you want to see us now?” I asked.

“Because I only just learned that you were here,” she explained. “My security told me that you were involved in an incident at the Ugly Vulture. They asked around and heard that you were here with a Mimirin official, doing blood tests at the clinic. I thought it would be best if I found out what kind of experimentation is going on in my kingdom.”

“What I am doing is not experimenting, but simple, proven science,” Elof assured her. “I’d be happy to explain the whole process I use for the comparative blood analysis I do.”

She held up her hand, her long, pointed fingernails painted a metallic bronze. “That won’t be necessary.”

“All right,” Elof said, but he sounded uncertain. “But I will tell you it’s completely safe.”

“Good.” She pursed her lips and looked to me. “How are you involved with all this? Still stumbling through your pursuit for your parents?”

“That wouldn’t be how I’d phrase it, but basically, yeah,” I said.

“Did you find Orra, then?” Bodil asked with feigned indifference.

Orra Fågel—the woman who abandoned me as a baby—was Bodil’s cousin. Indu had told me that Orra kidnapped me as a newborn, but he’d also told me that he was my father, and he’d either lied about that or been mistaken.

Indu had confessed that he’d tracked Orra down and killed her. But that I believed, since she hadn’t been seen or heard from in nineteen years. And from what I remembered of Indu torturing me, I wouldn’t put it past him to murder the woman who crossed him.

But I had no idea how much—if any—of that I should tell Bodil, especially considering how angry and eccentric she seemed.

“After much searching, I have come to agree with your assessment that Orra is dead,” I answered carefully.

“It’s as I said, then,” she said, but surprisingly, she didn’t appear happy to be proven right, nor saddened about the death of her cousin. “Perhaps you’ll learn to trust the wisdom of a queen.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to doubt you,” I said. I hated how slavish I sounded, but Bodil wasn’t someone I wanted to upset.

“Is it true that you’re traveling with Bryn Aven?” she asked.

I held my head up slightly. “I am.”

“Hmmm,” she mused. “One should always be prudent in the company they keep.”

Before I could respond, the door to the parlor burst open and a gangly young boy rushed in, whining, “Mamma!”

“Furston, we have guests,” she lightly rebuked him, but he appeared nonplussed.

Furston looked about eight or nine years old, with an unwieldy head of dark curls nearly covering his eyes. His height was hard to gauge, since he walked slightly hunched, and he wore a sleep tunic that barely covered his torso, leaving all of his wiry limbs exposed.

“It’s past story time,” he lamented with a passing glance in my direction.

Bodil’s harsh expression softened, and she gave her son a smile of genuine apology. He stood a foot away from her, so she leaned forward and took his hand. “I’ll be a little while longer, my love.”

He scowled down at her hand, and for a moment, I thought he’d snatch his away, but he didn’t. “But Mamma, I’m tired now.”

“Go lie down, and I’ll be up shortly.”

“Why not now?” He glared back over his shoulder at me. “Why are they here so late? This isn’t the proper time for the palace to have visitors.”

“You’re right, it is late.” The Queen’s smile was pained, and she looked to me and Elof. “I’ve kept you long enough, and I have the Crown Prince to attend to.”

She stood up, so Elof immediately got to his feet, and I scrambled to do the same.

“I trust you can find your way out yourself,” she said, still holding Furston’s hand.

“Of course, Your Majesty.” Elof bowed, and as Bodil and her son walked by, he reached out and boldly put his hand on Furston’s shoulder. “It was truly an honor meeting you, Young Sire.”

“Don’t touch me,” was all the prince said, and his mother led him out of the parlor.