CHAPTER 20

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Two days later, Toula popped in, but only long enough to tell me that Hel was still alive and our father was loudly disowning me to anyone who had heard the truth, and to pick up the promised blood sample. “This could take some time,” she cautioned before she went back to Montana, but I didn’t care. I had enough fires to put out in Faerie without worrying about Oberon’s missing eldest.

The realm complained quietly even after Toula departed—and again, a few days later, when Hel sneaked over to retrieve Joey for the night. I listened, then told her that Hel and Toula were welcome, and I didn’t want to hear anything else about it. Maybe the realm realized how stressed I was that week, as she backed off on the complaints.

I knew what Coileán did, but I didn’t know until I started filling in just how much work his position entailed. Val kept me on schedule, Astrid and the other aides held the palace together, and I took pleasure in every single item I checked off my swollen to-do list. Once I was sure that my prisoners were at least eating, I pushed them to the back burner, hoping Coileán would wake in the next few days, and set about dealing with the more practical considerations of running the court. Rebuilding didn’t take long—not with so much magic at our disposal—but I suddenly found myself with a host of territorial squabbles and audience requests from minor lords and ladies, all of them hoping to curry favor while my brother was out of the picture.

And then there were the sheep.

Oberon’s crew had left the palace largely untouched, but they’d failed to do anything about Georgie’s food supply, which doubled several times per day when left unchecked. Eventually, the flock had grown so rapidly that the sheer pressure of the sheep on the wooden rails broke the pen, and the magical mutants had wandered off to the meadows and lawns south of the palace, quite literally in search of greener pastures. By the time I arrived, the sheep were everywhere, breeding out of control and eating every ornamental plant in sight.

I gave a kill order on them, and then I sent Joey and Georgie out to round up the stragglers. For Joey, it was a way to get his mind off Hel’s problems, but for Georgie, the exercise was a massive game. They taste so much better when you eat them fresh, she explained one evening as she stretched out in the barn with a full belly. You should try it. Bacon is all right, but fresh sheep… Her forked tongue flicked in and out of her mouth, working at a chunk of wool stuck between her teeth. Delicious.

Having caught a small flock budding on her own manor, Mina offered her services in sheep eradication since Val had the guard rotation well in hand. She even dragged in my nieces and nephews, her former sailing charges—all of them half fae, but none younger than three hundred—to introduce them and offer their assistance, whether they liked it or not. Once they understood the problem, however, they proved willing to pitch in, especially if their participation carried with it the potential of a ride on Georgie. “Biologists, botanists, geographers,” Mina told me as they circled around Joey to meet the dragon. “Amateurs, certainly, but they have their little hobbies.”

I watched as one of them pulled a battered notebook from his long coat and a pencil from thin air. “You know, Joey was telling me that he wanted to do a proper field guide to the realm. Do you think—”

“Oh, I think they’d be interested,” she said, nodding slowly. “But may I ask a favor?”

“Sure.”

“Don’t make me chaperone, my lord. Please. I don’t know what I did to Grandmother to make her send me with them last time, but if I have to spend another year with those fools, chasing after every damn fish…”

I patted her shoulder. “No chance of that. I’d like you around here, if that’s agreeable.”

Mina seemed taken aback at that. “Well…yes, certainly, but…”

“But?” I asked, bemused.

She frowned and studied my expression. “I’ve been a guard for a long time,” she finally replied. “No one’s ever asked if I found an assignment agreeable.”

I rubbed my elbow and shrugged. “You know the rest of the family, right? Coileán sheltered me. I’d like to know who and what I’m dealing with.”

She mulled that over. “I believe I could be of assistance, my lord.”

“Thanks. And, uh…” I hesitated, then mumbled, “Look, I never knew Titania, but I know what Coileán and Toula did. If you were close to her, I’m sorry—”

Mina chuckled and shook her head. “She tolerated me, but that was all. And don’t be too upset, little uncle,” she said with the ghost of a smirk. “If I recall, the captain was supposed to have eliminated you.”

“Yeah,” I muttered, “I heard.”

She nodded. “And that’s why he’s the captain.”

 

It was ten days into the new year before Toula came by with her findings.

“Here’s what we’ve got,” she said, dropping a stack of atlases and road maps onto Coileán’s desk. I’d moved into his office for the sake of convenience, but I couldn’t bring myself to touch the décor, even as I’d begun to fear that my brother’s nap was going to be longer than I’d expected. Toula opened the top book, an old Rand McNally, and flipped through page after page of maps, each pocked with colored dots. “This family tree is obscenely large,” she explained, “and I thought you’d prefer Sharpie to bloodstains, so I color-coded it. Red is for Oberon’s presumptive children, orange for grands, yellow for great-grands, et cetera.”

I continued paging through, noting a plethora of blues and purples among the warmer colors. “How many?”

“Thousands. I wouldn’t have paid any attention to the lesser bloods, but the Fringe wants the data. You know, in case someone out there has a little power and doesn’t understand why or what to do with it. They’re going to be making their own searches—I didn’t think you’d mind sharing the sample,” she added, warning me with her eyes not to object, “but I’ve got solid geographical leads on all of Oberon’s children for you to explore.”

The stack of maps was daunting. “Dare I ask?”

“About two hundred or so, and they’re everywhere. These are your copies,” she said, patting the books. “Officially, I can’t do much more to help you—Greg wants us to stay out of court issues for now—but I’ll run more refined searches if you can narrow your geographic scope.”

“Thanks, Toula,” I mumbled, wondering when I was going to find time to start hunting for faeries hiding in the mortal realm. Whoever Oberon’s heir was, he had yet to make a peep.

“No sweat. Oh, and here.” She pulled an envelope out of her messenger bag and slapped it on the desk, and I recognized the grand magus’s seal over the flap. “They’re having a big shindig for Carver next Friday night. You’re invited.”

I frowned and opened the envelope. “Her magus swear-in?”

“No, they took care of that before the semester started. She’s been back in Nashville for the last couple of weeks,” Toula explained. “Got her ‘medical leave’ squared away, sorted out her classes, all that mess. But Greg’s bringing back this old tradition—the outgoing grand magus makes his intended successor a sort of junior grand magus for a few months. Carver will only have a magus’s power on the Council, but this’ll put her firmly in the public eye.”

“And I’m invited?” I asked in disbelief, holding up the calligraphed card. “Why?”

Toula adjusted her bag’s shoulder strap and opened a gate behind her. “Because she wants her little brother there, that’s why. You in?”

I reread the invitation, then nodded slowly. “Yeah. Tell her I’ll clear my calendar.”

 

As it so happened, Hel wanted her fiancé there for her big night as well, and Joey and I managed to come up with halfway presentable suits by the time we stepped through into the grand magus’s office for my sister’s ceremony. “Wizard formal is like any other formal,” I’d explained to Joey, “except that the magi will look like they’re off to a costume party or the world’s weirdest graduation.” The grand magus didn’t disappoint that night: he’d selected crimson robes with gold trim and his heavy chain of office for the occasion, though he’d forgone the floppy hats that so many of the magi seemed to favor.

Joey gave him a quick look, straightened his tie, and whistled. “And here I thought I’d gone fancy with French cuffs.”

The grand magus cocked his head to inspect Joey’s cufflinks, a pair of tiny onyx dragons with ruby eyes. “Classy. Welcome, gentlemen,” he said as I closed the gate. “We’re about fifteen minutes out. I thought I’d get you into the hall in ten minutes or so—no point in making you deal with small talk, is there?”

Neither of us needed clarification. Toula had been by that week to fill us in on the situation in the silo and on the cover stories we’d be using.

The Council knew about me, of course, and some of the wizards from outside the silo had seen Hel and me together and suspected that we had a history, but by and large, news of my new position hadn’t made it through the silo. To the average wizard, I was still the Carvers’ dud, the new magus’s unfortunate kid brother who had been sent off to boarding school to prepare me for a life outside the bosom of the Arcanum. Joey, according to his new cover story, was a witch who just so happened to have met Hel in college, a friend she’d taken under her wing and invited to the silo to see a glimpse of a world of which he’d never be a part. “The Council’s still not cool with their engagement,” Toula told me, “but Carver keeps shutting the discussion down.” To keep up appearances, however, Joey agreed to play his part, and I saw nothing to be gained by provoking the Council.

“I’m afraid I’m going to have to put you two near the back of the hall,” the grand magus continued. “I tried to bring up the issue of seating you with your parents,” he told me, “but…well. I’m sure Toula’s kept you apprised of current sentiment.”

“You mean that bit about how Dad wishes I’d die in a fiery explosion? Yeah, I’ve heard.”

“Aiden,” he tried after a moment’s pause, “you know, Howard…with enough time…”

“Save it, sir.” I called a mirror into existence, checked my tie again, and winced inwardly at the fingerless glove on my left hand. Val had designed it to match my skin tone and cushion only the burn, but it was still noticeable in the light of the grand magus’s office. I didn’t want to risk using glamour on it—with so many wizards around, all it would take would be one eagle-eyed neighbor to ask what was up with my hand—and at least with the protective glove, I could explain it away as a lab accident. The burn had scabbed over, and skin was continuing to regrow, but the new tissue puckered, hinting at the nasty scar to come. I dismissed the mirror with a wave, then took a deep breath and tried to smile. “For Hel.”

“Very nice,” said the grand magus. “We’ll head down in a—”

The sudden pounding on his door cut him off, and he scowled as he crossed the room. “Just a minute,” he muttered, then threw the door open and took a step back. “Howard, Rachel,” he said, sounding perplexed. “She’s with the Council now, not here—”

But Dad had already seen me, and he brushed past the grand magus without a word. Joey tensed, but I stood my ground and waited until he’d stormed across the office—the better, apparently, to glower at me. “You came,” he said, clenching his fists. “You son of a bitch, you’re actually showing your face.”

“Hi, Dad. Nice suit,” I replied. “Good to see you again. Sorry about all the mess left topside—the dragon got full before she could finish the cleanup. But hey, fresh air must be a nice change for you, right?”

As if realizing that he had lost most of his height advantage on me, Dad settled for grabbing my lapels and glared. “If you ruin this for her, you little shit—”

“Howard, please,” Mom murmured, “not tonight, you don’t want to do this tonight, your blood pressure…”

“Shut up,” he snapped, and yanked me closer. “One toe out of line, boy, and so help me, I’ll—”

“Apologize,” I ordered.

His dark eyes blazed. “What did you say?”

“Apologize,” I repeated slowly. “To Mom.”

I could see her face working even as Dad’s reddened, and I wondered again what he had done to her after I left. Dad had a temper, but I’d never seen him turn it on Mom…but then again, she was the reason that I’d been thrust into his life to begin with. I saw the loathing in his eyes as he stared at me, and I saw the fear in hers every time he raised his voice.

“Who are you,” he sputtered, “to tell me to do anything?”

I paused long enough to wipe the fleck of his spittle off my cheek. “Like it or not,” I said calmly, “your son.”

He never had time to defend himself before I ripped his hands off my jacket and threw him into the far wall with a blast of pure force. Dad grunted as the air was slammed out of him, and I took my time in straightening myself up as he squirmed three feet off the ground against my hold. “Now, you listen to me,” I said as I strolled toward him. “And you listen carefully, you bastard: if I ever hear of you talking to Mom like that again, I will make you regret it. And then I’ll tell Hel, and she will make you regret it. Understood?”

I dropped him, and as he landed in a heap at my feet, I turned to Mom, who wrung her hands at a safe distance. “Has he hurt you?” I asked her. She shook her head, and I sighed, seeing the lie written all over her face. “All right, then. I’ll be on my best behavior tonight, but it’s for Hel’s sake. And for you,” I said, then cut my eyes to my father and resisted the urge to kick him while he was still on the carpet. “You can rot.”

He wheezed as he pushed himself to his feet, but the grand magus managed to usher my parents out of the office without further incident. When the door latched behind them, he opened a gate into a little-used corridor near the hall and muttered, “Maybe we should take the back route tonight.”

 

Joey and I sat in a dark corner of the very last row, peeking through a sea of wizards as my sister, resplendent in indigo robes, made her formal oaths and sat demurely as one magus after another made glowing remarks. The speakers were all installation heads, I noticed—Magus Ehrler, Magus Aminu, and Magus Jenner, whose spectacles twinkled in the candlelight—but if the local Council magi had other thoughts, they kept silent. I whispered tidbits of information to Joey as the ceremony progressed, filling him in on the people seated across the stage. He clapped in all the right places, then beamed as Hel received a small chain of office from the grand magus.

Soon enough, the ceremony ended, and I slipped off down a quiet dead-end corridor while the audience emptied out of the room. There was a reception, the grand magus had told us. He’d said we were both welcome, but I urged Joey to go ahead, telling him I’d stay back until the crowd thinned. The fewer people who saw me, the lower the chance of awkward questions.

Ten minutes later, as I leaned against the cracked plaster and absently flexed the fingers of my burned hand, I heard a familiar voice at the other end of the hallway: “So that’s where you’re hiding, Dudley.”

I looked up, startled, and saw Russell standing in the middle of the hall, blocking my exit. “What do you want?” I asked, resisting the impulse to call up a fireball.

A pair of shadows filled the space behind him, then moved into the light to reveal Morgan and Dan, respectively Russell’s widest and tallest lieutenants. All three had lost their jackets and ties, though they still wore the thin gold necklaces that marked them as direct kin to magi. As I watched, the rest of the gang crowded the hallway: Milo with his bone-breaking fists, Terrance, a distant cousin of the grand magus’s wife, and Leo, whose wand was ready and glowing.

Russell tightened his ponytail and grinned. “We’ve got some unfinished business, don’t we, Dudley? You burned my hand. That’s going to cost you.”

I raised my injured palm to show him the glove. “Beat you to it. Back off, Russell.”

He laughed, and the rest of his pack chimed in. “Or what? Big sis is going to be pressing the flesh all night—there’s no one here to save you now.”

Russell took a step toward me, and I retreated, keeping my distance. “Come on,” I begged, “this is Hel’s big night, don’t do this—”

“Not doing anything to her,” said Terrance. “Just going to settle a few things with you. We’ve missed you, Dud.”

“Don’t,” I pleaded, feeling my adrenaline surge, but in a matter of seconds, the pack was on me.

I tried. Really, I tried. I went limp as usual, hoping they’d get bored and walk off, but all the while, I struggled against my own anger, the force inside that was building and needed an outlet.

I might even have been able to control it, had someone not broken my nose.

The fact that the pain was familiar made it no less pleasant, and I screamed as blood gushed over my face and shirt. The hands that had been holding me in place dropped me, and as I staggered toward the wall, I heard Russell’s mocking voice behind me: “Oh no, Dudley, we’re not finished yet. You’re not leaving that quickly.”

I cupped my hands around my busted nose, willing the healing enchantment into action, and then, shaking and infuriated, I let myself go.

I flung the pack away from me with a wave of force, denting the plaster and knocking Dan unconscious immediately. “My name is not Dudley,” I growled as the other five picked themselves up. “You want a fight? Okay. Here’s one.”

The bodies that were still moving flew into the air again, then bashed against the walls, over and over, until I heard ribs break and all five were crying in fear. “Still want a fight?” I yelled as a green fireball appeared in either hand. “I’ll give you a fight! I’ll give you every damn fight!”

And then, just before I burned them alive, I heard my sister’s voice at the other end of the hall, calling my name.

Hel. I was there for Hel, and no one was supposed to…

The fireballs fizzled, and I dropped my opponents. “Shit, Hel, I’m sorry,” I said, turning to her, only to find that the corridor behind her was packed with wide-eyed wizards. In the heat of the moment, I hadn’t realized how loud our brawl had been. “I…they broke my nose, and—”

“Oh, Aid,” she murmured, leaving the wizards behind as she ran to meet me. “Here, let me see.” She started gently prodding my nose, then muttered until a wet washcloth appeared in her hand. “You’ve got blood all over you,” she said, wiping off my face. “And I think it’s still leaking. Here, take this, go stand over there, and pinch it off until the bleeding stops, okay?”

“Hel—”

“No buts. And as for you,” she said, turning to the groaning guys on the floor, “I don’t think you’re ready for this level of responsibility.” With that, she pulled each one’s wand free, snapped it in half, and left the pieces on the carpet. “What have I told you idiots about beating up my brother?” she demanded, and when that got no response, she gave the nearest a swift kick in the groin. “Don’t do it!” How hard is that to remember?”

By then, Russell had recovered enough to climb to his knees and point a shaking finger at me. “That…that…”

Hel looked at me and my bloody washcloth, then turned back to Russell and folded her arms. “That would be the lord regent for the reigning king of Faerie,” she said quietly. “And you have no idea how lucky you are that I got here when I did.” With that, she marched back to me, inspected the progress of my nosebleed, and frowned. “You know,” she began, “power is great, but it’s even better when you know when to use it.”

I discarded her washcloth in favor of a fresh one. “And what would you have had me do differently?” I protested. “They jumped me—I didn’t start this.”

“I’m not complaining,” she soothed, “just offering a word of advice for down the line. Let’s go,” she said, waving Joey over as he pushed his way through the muttering throng. “I think there’s still plenty of cake.”

Hel led us on as the crowd parted, ignoring the voices that rose and fell around us, but paused before we reached the reception. “Here,” she said, then mumbled again until my suit was clean and whole once more. “Sorry, Aid, I can’t fix the nose that quickly.”

I took the cloth away, sniffed, and tossed the rag back into the ether. “I’ve had worse. But really, you don’t have to do this.”

She smiled, then looped her arm around mine. “Come on, little brother. The night is young.”

There were magi all around the reception hall. Wizards. Kids I’d known. People who had pitied me, who had mocked me when they thought I couldn’t hear them. All of them were whispering, murmuring, gasping as the news began to spread.

Their eyes were on me, with my new suit and my swollen nose. I had a moment’s flash of panic, and then the grand magus walked out of the press with a glass in his hand. “Lord Regent,” he said, “I’m terribly sorry about that. May I offer you a drink?”

It was a lousy apology, but I felt the warmth of my sister’s arm against mine and let it slide. “Kind of you,” I said as a bottle of beer appeared in my hand. “But I think I’ll start with one of my own.”

I sipped. It wasn’t going down in history as the world’s greatest beer, but at that moment, surrounded by the stunned Arcanum, I couldn’t have imagined anything tasting better.