Copper Ravens (14 page)

“No thinking,” I said, forcibly removing his hand from my back and lacing my fingers with his. “For now, just going.”

He grumbled at that, but remained on his best behavior as we descended the stairs and stepped outside to the metal pathway. Thanks to Micah's excellent navigational techniques, in a few short moments, we stood before Oriana's estate.

The Golden Court was, well, gold. It looked like the standard-issue storybook castle, straight from the old-time illustrations, right down to the drawbridge and the turrets. The midday sun caught the light of dozens of stained glass windows, turning them into blazing jewels. Warriors, not like the metal monsters that had guarded Ferra's home, but actual men—perhaps they were even Elemental men—clad in gold-washed mail guarded the entry. Also unlike Ferra's iron warriors, not one of them made a lewd comment or even hazarded an inappropriate glance in my direction. And they say chivalry is dead.

Once we were inside the courtyard, I saw the court's occupants going about the varied routines of sustaining such a grand establishment. To my left, a maid carried a stack of linens, a porter scurrying behind her with cakes of soap. Someone from the kitchens, likely the cook's apprentice, inspected a cartload of vegetables, while another haggled with a wine merchant. I spied a few grooms off the side, who sang while they cleaned and oiled a set of tack. The horse looked on, politely munching his hay. Everything seemed to be in perfect order.

And yet, it wasn't, not by a long shot. Now, don't get me wrong, the Golden Court was nothing at all like the Iron Court, what with the latter's flagrant debauchery and rampant lack of boundaries. No one had smiled in the Iron Court, unless they were caught up in the moment of harming another; far more common had been cries of hopelessness and despair.

However, the Golden Court, for all its smiling inhabitants and cheery decorations, was far from welcoming. It was a sterile, falsified happiness, as if all the denizens were actors who had missed out on the roles of their lives and were doomed to go through the motions at a community playhouse. I really shouldn't have been surprised at all the forced cheer, since Oriana had spent five long years as Ferra's favorite pet.

I didn't know, not specifically, anyway, what sort of tortures Oriana had endured at the Iron Court. No one still living did, save Oriana herself. But I had some strong ideas. So did Micah, and I suspect that others did as well, since a generous allowance was being given toward Oriana's lunatic behaviors. Since she had been rescued, she'd alternately insisted upon sleeping out of doors in the rain, in a pool of mud, and once in a stable covered with hay. And there was the singing. Oriana had taken to singing, or, based on Micah's descriptions, wailing, instead of talking. Apparently, she was also tone deaf.

Her eating habits had also been affected by her captivity. Reportedly, Ferra had only fed her stale bread and dungeon mice. As a result, Oriana had subsequently banned all baked goods from the Golden Court, from bread to cookies. Rodents, however, were still allowed on the menu.

Are there any vegetarians in the Otherworld?

The possibility of rodent fricassee notwithstanding, I was on my best behavior as Micah and I approached Oriana's steward. After a few brief introductions, we were ushered into a grand dining hall by two smiling, perfectly-appointed servants, and I saw Oriana for the first time since she'd been hauled out of the oubliette. Her element had, indeed, been restored, and I noticed that her mark showed upon her hands, with her fingers being robed in solid gold. The metal then twisted and twirled around her hands and up her arms like so many shining ribbons. That, coupled with her wavy golden hair and sky-colored gaze, made the Gold Queen look like a true fairy princess.

“Micah,” she exclaimed, rising to greet us. Thank the gods, she was speaking instead of singing. Oriana approached Micah and extended her arms as if to grasp his hands, only to withdraw at the last moment. I recalled the effect that Micah's touch had had on my own mark and wondered if Oriana's brought her more pain than pleasure.

Unperturbed, Micah bowed. “My lady,” he intoned, then he drew me beside him. “I have brought my consort for you to meet. Allow me to present my beloved, Sara Elizabeth Corbeau.”

“My lady,” I said as I curtsied, rather elegantly if I must say so myself. Sadie and I had been practicing.

“Consort?” Oriana repeated, her head cocked to the side in an avian manner. “And a Raven fledgling, at that. Micah, when did this happen?” Huh. Were consorts supposed to be cleared with the queen? Oops.

“Shortly before your rescue,” Micah said smoothly. “Sara and her family were instrumental in Ferra's demise.” Oriana's gold brows peaked; I hoped Micah had just won me some points. “Are you ready to dine, or would you care to walk first?”

“Walk. Let's.” With that, the Gold Queen turned on her heel, leaving Micah and me to follow. She led us on a meandering path throughout her estate, passing through the same rooms two and sometimes three times. The floor in her throne room was gold, as were the floors adjacent to it. After a few twists and turns, the floor took on a pinkish hue, then it deepened to crimson. Oriana seemed unperturbed by this, but when a black floor loomed ahead she cried out, then scurried in the opposite direction. She'd learned a thing or two from the rodents.

The queen visibly relaxed once we reached a blue floor and sighed with relief once the floor had lightened to green. Before I could ask Micah if this was a newly built castle, or if our queen had a terrible sense of direction, Oriana led us to a courtyard.

“That was the strangest half-hour of my life,” I muttered. Micah squeezed my hand, and we stepped into the sunshine.

“Now, tell me,” Oriana said, once we were out in the open air, “where did you find your consort?”

“The Mundane realm, my lady,” Micah replied. “Sara has since consented to share my home in the Whispering Dell.”

“How nice,” Oriana muttered. “And why does she not wear her element?” It took me a moment to realize that the last question was directed at me, and I looked down at my dress.

“I thought others could tell that I am of copper by my hair,” I said. “I didn't know I was supposed to wear it.”

“It is not that you have to,” Oriana clarified, “it is a matter of pride. Micah, I'm surprised you didn't inform your lady.” I looked at Oriana's clothing, which was a white toga-like garment that draped from a heavy gold collar, leaving her arms and shoulders bare. The cloth was bound about her narrow hips with several lengths of fine gold chain, and gold sandals wrapped around her feet. Oriana must be very, very proud of her element.

“I…I forgot,” Micah murmured, his silver brows furrowed. I looked closely at Micah's clothing; his white shirt was edged in silver, and silver buttons graced his coat. “My Sara, please forgive me.”

“It's fine,” I said. “After all, I'm only copper.” Not an important metal or anything.

“Never see yourself as ‘only' copper,” Oriana said, rounding to face me. She stroked my hair, then her golden fingers travelled to my shoulder and danced down my arm, finally alighting on the small of my back. Even though my clothing separated our skin, I was acutely aware of her fingers as they pressed my mark. Being that Oriana was nuts, I decided to forgive her the personal trespass. “Copper is strong and beautiful, one of the most noble metals in existence.”

“Is it?” I murmured. “But I'm not precious, not like gold or silver.” Hell, where I come from, they make sewage pipes out of my metal.

“Does it matter if others see you as precious? Only you can truly assess your worth.” Oriana smiled, her eyes shining like the sun reflecting across a lake in summer. “Always be proud of who you are, my non-precious friend, and show the world your best side. Others cannot judge you by your weaknesses if you only show them your strengths.”

I opened my mouth, only to shut it with a
clack
. For the first time, I felt like I had an ally in the Otherworld. I mean, Micah was on my side, but that was different. Other than the pixie, Oriana was the first non-relation who had offered me any guidance in this strange land that was now my home. And having an ally in the Gold Queen must be a good sign.

“Thank you, my lady,” I said. “I will do my best to follow your advice.”

Oriana smiled at that, then she applied a bit more pressure to my mark. A sudden jolt, like lightning, shot to my core, while Oriana's eyelids fluttered and her cheeks flushed.

“See that you do,” she murmured, caressing my cheek. “Come, let us enjoy our meal.” With that, Oriana wandered off; luckily, Micah took my arm and helped me along.

“I think I just had sex with the Gold Queen,” I murmured, more than a bit shaken.

“That was far from an act of love,” Micah said. “Oriana simply favors you. She finds companionship with very few. You should feel honored.”

“What I feel like is another bath,” I mumbled.
And to never let my mark within touching distance of that one, ever again
. Before Micah could remind me to behave, we were again inside the dining hall. Oriana must have been hungry, since she had decided to take the direct route on our return. The most notable feature of this hall was the entire lack of a table and chairs; instead, there were several long couches gathered in a semicircle. Oriana lounged across one in true Greek-goddess fashion, and indicated that Micah and I should do the same.

“Shall we begin with wine?” Oriana asked, then she answered herself. That's not a sign of the crazy, no, not at all. “No, first a footbath.”

Without waiting for our response, Oriana clapped and several servants stepped forth, all of them female. They were clad in identical heavy gold belts and diaphanous white skirts, the layers cut to resemble tulip petals. Armed with gold basins and neatly folded linen, they immediately set about removing our shoes and washing our feet. I must admit that, while I initially thought this procedure was more than a bit odd, having a servant girl clean and anoint my feet was an unprecedented luxury.

Once we were cleansed to the standards of the Golden Court, at least to the ankles, a new team of girls stepped forward. One carried a pitcher, presumably the wine in question, and the rest bore surprisingly plain glass goblets.

“Now,” Oriana began, once she had sampled the wine, “I am aware that many things changed while I was…captive. Please, Micah, tell me of the all the good things that occurred. I am all too familiar with the rest.”

13

O
ur meal with the Gold Queen stretched long into the afternoon, though I must admit that I ate precious little. Knowing that mice—and rats!—could be included in any and all of the dishes laid before us, I stuck to fruit presented in its original, tree-ripened state. I assumed that any rodent I found inside an apple or peach would be the fault of the rodent, and not Oriana's kitchens.

If the queen noticed my lack of appetite, she didn't comment on it, though she herself seemed far more interested in liquid refreshment; I don't think she'd recognize the bottom of a goblet if it snuck up and kicked her in the arse. Just when I was making a mental note to schedule an Otherworldly intervention, Oriana began recounting one of many ways Ferra had tortured her—after stripping all the gold from Oriana's body, Ferra had kept her chained to the iron throne with golden shackles. It had been hideously painful, yet Oriana had refused to complain, terrified that Ferra would remove her only contact with her metal. That nightmare became a reality when Ferra grew bored with her docile prisoner, and threw Oriana into the oubliette.

Yeah. Oriana gets to drink all she wants
.

Once Micah had told the drunken queen everything that had occurred with regard to the Metal Elements, and had shared what bits he knew about the other four Elements, three frickin' times, Oriana suddenly stood. She declared herself to be both exhausted and filthy, and let her tulip-skirted attendants lead her away, I assumed to bathe and sober up a bit. Or maybe she only wandered off to find more wine, who knew? Having gotten the impression that we'd been dismissed, Micah and I let ourselves out.

“All the floors are gold here,” I murmured. I looked up and down the corridors; everything was gold, with no trace of the multicolored tiles we'd trekked over earlier. “Why is part of the Golden Court not gold?”

Micah pursed his lips, his signal that I was asking about something that nice people didn't talk about in public. “This site is very old,” he said, at length. “There was magic here long before Oriana.”

“Before Elementals?”

Micah squeezed my hand. “Yes.”

Huh. I'd thought that Elementals had always existed. Before I could ask who was here before, and where they'd gone, we'd reached the bustling courtyard. Micah squeezed my fingers even harder, but I'd already gotten the hint. When I squeezed back, he smiled.

“I'm glad to see our queen so improved,” Micah said, once we were outside the palace.

“That was improved?” A vision of Oriana having a conversation with her wineglass flitted behind my eyes.

“Oh, very much so. Not once did she fall to the ground wailing, nor did she rend her garments or her hair, and she set nothing on fire. I'm quite pleased with her progress.”

If that was evidence of progress, gods help us if she regressed. I kept my thoughts to myself as we travelled the metal pathways back home, and once we were back on the manor's grounds, I was so excited to soon be out of those pinchy green shoes that I forgot all about our insane queen and spooky pre-Elemental magic. Before I could change, or even put on a pair of sneakers, I was met by a pleasant surprise—while Micah and I were off at the Golden Court, Ash had completed my sword.

The blacksmith had personally delivered it only a short while earlier, and Mom had accepted it on my behalf. From the way she kept absently wiping her hands, I assumed that Ash had arrived in his usual filthy state. Nice to know that he didn't bother cleaning up when he made deliveries to his lord's home.