Chapter 20

If the queen realized she’d been infected, she gave no indication. She looked mildly annoyed, but that seemed to have more to do with the fact that we wouldn’t fall for her compulsions than anything else.

“Yes, I did insist,” she finally said, responding to Dugan’s earlier answer. “It was alarming to see you in my sister’s morning room. I was caught quite off guard.”

So she invited us all here?

I glanced at my companions. Both wore carefully blank faces. I tried to mimic them but knew mine still held a hint of my confused disbelief. Even if she wasn’t colluding with her son, she was definitely scheming. Of course, she was a Faerie queen. That was kind of like saying she was breathing.

She hadn’t asked any questions, so we didn’t answer. We’d gained about as much out of this trip as we were likely to get. She’d made it clear we couldn’t question her people—or even suggest it without giving offense—but we knew Ryese was alive and in the light court, making him our prime suspect. Anything else was gravy. We just needed to be dismissed and take our leave until we could put together enough evidence to force the queen to hand over her son for crimes against the winter and shadow courts.

The queen pouted prettily at our silence. “If you are looking for a new, stronger court, dark prince, I would gladly accept you here.” She gave him her best benevolent smile again. “And there is a place for your betrothed, as well. I could always use a planeweaver.”

“You are very well informed,” Dugan said, but I blanched at the words.

Very few people knew about my supposed betrothal. How had she learned of it?

To cover my reaction I said, “Your sister would be most displeased if I left her court.” Not that I had any particular loyalty to winter, but still.

The queen laughed, a soft tinkling sound that made Faerie itself laugh with her. “She is my younger sister. Younger siblings are used to their older siblings taking their things. It makes them good at sharing.”

Yeah. No. “Good at sharing” wasn’t something I’d ever use to describe the Winter Queen.

“So what say you, Cousin? Are you ready to come into the light? I could even offer you a council position,” the queen said, and the fae closest to her throne, who I guessed were her current council, looked among themselves nervously.

“I must humbly refuse your generous offer,” he said, bowing stiffly.

Her eyes narrowed. “I thought you were smarter than that. Your king’s plan to restore his court is doomed to fail. I will not make such a gracious offer twice.”

Again, he bowed. “The rumors of your generous offers are whispered throughout shadow. Many of my courtiers have left to take a place in your light, and yet I see so few of them here.” He looked around the assembled fae.

I looked around as well. I hadn’t really paid attention to the gathered fae individually, but only noted them as a group. Now that I looked, though, I noticed that the gathered fae were the least diverse I’d seen. All were what humans would call beautiful. None were of the monstrous or less humanoid variety.

There were a few wings, but all were feathered like what one might find in a Renaissance painting of angels; a very few were bright like giant butterfly wings. None were leathery, tattered, or membranous, though I spotted some fae that I could tell by height and facial structure should have had such wings. Instead they wore ornate cloaks, keeping them out of sight. Several fae wore elaborate wraps or headdresses that hid horns or hair that contained leaves or feathers. Fauns wore pants and skirts with their hooves shoved in shoes. There were no trolls or giants towering over their neighbors, or small goblins or noseless brownies. No one had extra limbs, or bodies twisted in unexpected ways. While there were fae with skin tones of every shade of the rainbow, there were few who sported unusual textures to that skin. I did spot one fae who appeared to be made of living stone, but I could only tell by the pebbles surrounding her eyes—the rest of her face was obscured by a heavy veil. There were certainly none of the far more grotesque fae I’d encountered in the shadow court.

“Anyone or thing of beauty is welcomed in my halls,” the queen said magnanimously.

Dugan kept searching the crowd, his frown growing. I could almost see him counting how many faces he expected to find that were missing. Where are his former courtiers?

“You’re sure they were coming here?” I whispered the question as quietly as possible, and he gave me the smallest nod.

The queen didn’t seem to notice. She turned to me.

“And you, planeweaver? Will you join my court?”

“I am under contract to winter until my year and a day as an independent has expired.” It was an easy out that let me not answer the question.

“And I suppose you’ll go to the shadow court after that?”

I didn’t know what I’d do after, but I had nine more months to figure it out. I doubted I’d go to shadow, though. I liked my life in the mortal realm, and I needed to be tied to a seasonal court to remain outside Faerie. I didn’t say as much only because Dugan was at my side.

“I’m undecided.”

The queen pressed her full lips into a line. “I see. You’ll understand if I’m reluctant to allow you that choice.”

I frowned at her. It wasn’t her decision.

“Oh, don’t get me wrong, I have nothing in particular against shadow. But their loss is my gain, so you repairing the nightmare realm would impact me most severely. I would take it as a personal attack.”

“I—wait—what?” Repair the nightmare realm?

The queen cocked her head to the side. Then she laughed. “You didn’t know?” Then she turned to Dugan. “You didn’t tell her?”

She continued laughing, as if it was all too funny. I moved my frown from her to Dugan, lifting an eyebrow in question. At my side, I could feel Falin staring at Dugan as well.

Dugan didn’t turn, didn’t meet either of our eyes. He just stood there, expressionless, watching the queen. It was as good as an admission.

“You, and possibly whatever offspring you create with this one”—she waved a hand to Dugan—“are intended to fix the damage to shadow and reweave the nightmare realm to the court. I’m shocked no one has told you of shadow’s desires.” She didn’t sound shocked. She sounded smug.

I thought about what my father had said about the high king having the realm of dreams severed before the Magical Awakening. The shadow court expected me to fix it? “To restore the balance . . .” I said, thinking out loud more than to anyone.

The queen sat forward, slamming her palms down on the arms of her throne. “I don’t care about the balance. Shadow cannot exist without light, but light needs no shadows.” The glow around her blazed as she spoke, and I winced, looking away.

Right. I glanced at Falin. It was time for us to go. The look he gave me seemed to agree.

“My queen sends her regards, as well as her regrets over the body we had to deliver to your court,” Falin said, bowing to the Light Queen. “We should return to her now.”

“You may leave, knight of my sister.” She made a dismissive gesture and we all turned. “I said the knight. Planeweaver, I still have business with you.”

The glance I shot Falin was no doubt all deer-in-the-headlights, but I managed to get my face under control before I turned back toward the Queen of Light.

“Your Majesty?”

She glanced over the top of my head and nodded to someone behind me. Ryese stalked up to the throne, his golden cloak rustling as he swept past me.

My pulse quickened with each of his limping steps. This was not going to be good. I knew it wasn’t.

“My son says you are responsible for his current condition,” she said, gesturing from me to Ryese.

“I—What?” Was that the second or third time I’d responded to the queen exactly that way? At this rate she was going to think I was incapable of full sentences. But I didn’t have any other response. In what way could it be construed that I was responsible for Ryese’s condition? I’d revealed him, and physically pushed the Winter Queen out of the way of the iron dart, but nothing else.

Falin stepped in front of me. “I am the one who introduced the iron to his flesh. I acted in my capacity of knight in protecting my queen.”

The queen dismissed his words, her gaze fixing on me. “Only due to the machinations of this one.”

My head was still spinning from her abrupt change from inviting me into her court to accusing me of mangling her son.

“Machinations? He poisoned me and then tried to kill the queen,” I said, and then snapped my teeth shut as a beautifully cruel smile spread over the queen’s face.

Why do I feel like I just stumbled headfirst into a trap?

“Outrageous,” Ryese roared from under his hood. “She now intends to cripple me again with an unbearable defilement of my character.” He pressed his gray hand against the front of his cloak, as if physically wounded by my words.

I glared at him. He hadn’t accused me of lying—he couldn’t because everything I’d said was true. If mention of his past crimes tarnished his reputation, tough shit.

The queen clearly didn’t agree.

“Yes, that is a rather reprehensible thing to say about a member of my court, let alone blood of my blood.”

Crap. I cringed. This was not good.

I fell into a deep curtsy. “I meant no offense.”

“But you gave great offense. I cannot let such a slight pass, unless, dear son, you can?” She turned to Ryese.

He stood very still, as if considering whether to forgive me. I glanced at Falin; he studied Ryese, his eyes tight with worry. Dugan had stepped to the side, watching.

Ryese cleared his throat. “It is a challenge to my name I cannot let stand. I accept your challenge, planeweaver.”

“I didn’t—” I started, but the queen wasn’t listening.

She spoke over me. “Then as the one challenged, you set the terms.”

His golden hood bobbed in a nod. “The duel will be to the death.”