The Palace
Meanwhile
“We need to find Sophie,” Michael insisted to Leonie Drake as fairies scurried around the relocated market, shoring up defenses.
“Oh honey, I don’t think you’ll have to worry about that. It’s a safe bet that Josephine is on her way here, and Sophie’ll be with her.” She patted him on the arm. “She’ll be okay. You know Sophie. But it’s sweet that you care so much.”
The sound of pipes not too far in the distance caught all their attention. “They’re coming,” Eamon said, his face grim.
“Pipes? Isn’t that overkill?” Emily said.
“It is a legitimate battle strategy to unnerve the enemy,” Eamon replied. Michael got a sense of tension between them, but he didn’t have time to worry about that now. Not that he had anything else he was supposed to be doing. The fae were tearing down market booths to build barricades and were reinforcing the barriers with magic. Michael turned his attention to Amelia and Athena, who were directing the still-stunned visiting enchantresses to add their own magic to the barriers.
“It’s quite a place, isn’t it?” Mrs. Smith said.
“Your first visit?” he asked.
“Believe it or not, yes. My job is on the other side, but it’s still interesting to see. So, this is fairyland.”
“Is there anything we can do?”
“Keep your eyes open. That’s your gift. I’ve got a few tricks that might help fend off the fae, but that’s going to get complicated when they’re also on our side.” She frowned and added, “What got into your dog?”
“Not my dog, Emily’s,” he corrected automatically, even as he turned to see Beau barking at the palace doors. Emily must have released his leash after they’d arrived, and he’d wandered away from his mistress. The dog had never steered him wrong, so he headed to the door and eased it open to peer through. Mrs. Smith followed him, and he gestured for her to stay back.
It wasn’t the sort of door one could slip through without attracting attention because it was nearly two stories tall. Even opening it just a crack would let a significant amount of light in. The dais was nearly the length of a football field away from the door, but he could see figures moving, and he was pretty sure one of them was Sophie.
“They’re in there,” he said to Mrs. Smith. He gestured to Leonie, and when he had her attention, he said, “Josephine’s heading for the throne, and she has Sophie.”
“How many of her people?” the queen asked.
“No more than ten.”
“So the army is just a diversion.” She turned and gestured to the lead Huntsman. “Leave just enough people to maintain the shielding of the palace. The rest of you, with me. Enchantresses, I’ll need you, as well. And the wise ones. We’re all in this together. Now, we’re going in. Shields up.”
She waved her hand and the doors flew open. Michael figured there was no point in stealth with doors that huge, so you might as well go for shock value. The Huntsmen rushed in first, followed by the enchantresses, Emily and Eamon, Beau, Michael and Mrs. Smith. Mrs. Smith’s shopping cart seemed incongruous in that setting, but he had a feeling she was better equipped than any of them. The rest of their forces, including the courtiers and the fae from the market, followed.
As soon as the doors shut behind them, there was a rustling sound, and Michael noticed thorny vines growing over the windows. He suspected they’d also grown over the doors. They were apparently in a cage match situation—no one left until this was resolved, and only the victors would ever leave. Outside, the sound of pipes grew harsher and louder and was soon accompanied by shouting.
Leonie strode down the middle of the throne room toward the dais until she was only a few feet from the steps. Josephine faced her from the top of the dais, but although she was much taller and had the high ground, the much smaller Leonie still somehow looked like she was lording it over the intruder. “I don’t believe we’ve met,” she said in her sweet drawl. “I’m Leonie Drake, queen of this Realm. And you are?”
“The person who should hold this throne by right,” Josephine replied. She’d changed a lot since Michael had last seen her. She’d shed the glamour of an older human—and why had he never thought to look for a glamour on her?—for that of a fairy. But even there, he got the sense it had nothing to do with her real appearance.
“Nana, this is our many greats aunt,” Sophie said from her position behind Josephine, where she was being held by two fae men. “She’s our ancestor’s sister.”
Michael heard soft “oh” sounds from the enchantresses behind him. It did explain a lot. If her current glamour was at all based on her real appearance, he could see some resemblance between her and Sophie, Leonie, and Emily.
Leonie never lost her southern belle charm. “So pleased to meet you, though I would have preferred it to be under nicer circumstances. Battles are just so tacky. Anyhow, I imagine you’re not too fond of our branch of the family. First the queen exiles you for trying to usurp her throne, and then she gives up the throne herself.”
“If she didn’t want it, it should have gone to me,” Josephine insisted, her eyes flashing.
“Yes, well, I can see where you might think that,” Leonie said diplomatically. “But I would imagine she saw something in you that was unfit for holding the throne, and I’d have to agree. All this scheming is so unseemly.”
One of the Huntsmen raised his hands as though to attack Josephine, but Sophie cried out, “No! Don’t use fae magic against her. It doesn’t work and it somehow makes her stronger. I can’t quite see why, but that’s what happens.” She looked directly at Michael when she said “can’t quite see why,” and he took that as his cue.
He reached into his pocket for his keychain with a four-leaf clover on it. One side effect of his adventures in the Realm, including being elf-shot and cured and being under a spell or two, was that he could see past all fairy glamour, especially with the aid of a clover. Even Sophie couldn’t see what he could.
As soon as he got a look at Josephine without her glamour, he cringed and dropped the clover back into his pocket. What he saw was something that didn’t even look fae. It once might have been, but it had been warped and twisted into some kind of Gollum-like being. There were traces of a fae beauty that had degenerated, even if it hadn’t aged. Most of the flesh had melted away from her face, leaving her cheekbones in sharp relief and her eyes sunk into hollows. Ugly, lumpy scars ridged her arms and neck. The scars looked like she’d had something inserted into her skin and it had formed a capsule of tissue around it.
He wasn’t sure how to convey this to Sophie in a way she’d find useful. “What have you done to yourself?” he asked. “I’ve heard of body modification, but wow.”
If Sophie was able to read between the lines of that, then he’d be really impressed. Josephine apparently took it as an insult. She moved toward him, glowering, and raised her hands. In that moment, when her guards were distracted, Sophie shifted her weight, throwing all her force against one guard, shoving him into Josephine. The moment he touched her, he screamed and jerked away, his skin smoking in strips where he’d come in contact with her.
Everyone in the throne room stared at that. Even Sophie paused for a moment before regaining her wits and dashing to Michael’s side, away from her captors. “She’s got something inserted under her skin, doesn’t she?” she asked.
“Looks like it. There are lots of lumpy scars.”
“I know what she’s doing,” she said, loud enough for everyone in the room to hear her. “She’s using iron magic.”