Cruel Enchantment (39 page)

“What guilt?” sputtered Maddoc. He scanned the thronged room. It was becoming more crowded with every raised syllable that emanated into the corridor. “I have never seen this brother in my life. I have no idea what he’s talking about!”

“Murder,” said Gideon. “That’s what he’s talking about. The murders of Brothers Cederick, Rhys, and Baeddan. Not to mention the attempt on my life.”

“Murder!” Maddoc gave a strangled laugh. “That’s insane.”

“Aloysius helped you commit the heinous murders of three of our dear brothers and aided in your attempted murder of me. He couldn’t take the guilt and has confessed to Labrai.”

Maddoc’s face went taut and ashen.

Aloysius fell to his knees, keening. “I can stand it no longer. The blood has stained my hands. Labrai, I pray for your mercy. I helped Brother Maddoc in his misguided attempt to cull your flock. I have seen the error of my ways. Please forgive me.”

“This is ridiculous!” Maddoc bellowed. “I would have no reason to kill Brothers Cederick, Rhys, and Baeddan!” Gideon noticed Maddoc left out his name.
Huh
. Maddoc pointed a finger at Gideon. “Him!
He
had a motive! Not me. Don’t you see? He’s setting me up!”

Gideon laughed. “Why would I do that?”

“Because you want to be Archdirector!” Maddoc gave a half-crazed laugh. “Everyone knows that!”

“My attempts to move up in the power structure are no secret, Brother Maddoc, but I obey Labrai in all things. I would never go against him.” And he wasn’t. Labrai sanctioned every move he made.

Brother Hugh, one of the oldest and most respected of the Phaendir, stepped forward. “And perhaps it’s time that Brother Gideon did take your place as Archdirector.”

Maddoc went perfectly still. Gideon gazed smugly at the sheen of absolute terror in his eyes. “What are you saying, Brother Hugh?”

Brother Hugh bowed his bald head and cupped his hands in front of him. “The council has conferred and is in agreement. You have failed, Brother Maddoc. The fae now have the Book of Bindings and two pieces of the
bosca fadbh
. Even without the very compelling murder allegations brought forth by Brother Aloysius, those facts remain. We have entered a critical time in our relations with the fae. At no other period in the history of Piefferburg have things been so dire. This happened under
your watch
, Brother Maddoc. I’m afraid we can no longer take the tack of mercy with the fae. It may be time for a stronger hand.”

“No,” sputtered Maddoc. “You cannot mean to turn the reins of the Phaendir over to—to
this monster
!”

“That is enough,” said Brother Hugh. “I have spoken for the council. Our decision is final.”

Maddoc just stood there, pale and staring. It was over and he knew it. He’d been outplayed.

“Aloysius?” Gideon prodded softly. “Didn’t you have something you wanted to show the others?” He didn’t need this last touch, but he’d gone to all the trouble of setting it up.

“Wait!” Aloysius piped up in his screeching voice. Maddoc flinched. “I have proof of Maddoc’s attempted murder of Brother Gideon!”

Maddoc didn’t even move a muscle as Aloysius walked over to a filing cabinet and opened the bottom door. He pulled out a box of rat poison. Then he opened the top of the box and showed it to Brother Hugh. “He had me cube it. See?”

The Phaendir in the room gave a collective gasp.

Maddoc dropped like a stone back into his chair.

Gideon smiled. That chair was now
his
.

HER
Majesty Aislinn Christiana Guinevere Finvarra, formerly of the Seelie Court and now Shadow Queen of the Black Tower, took three people with her when she went to deliver the second piece of the
bosca fadbh
to the Summer Queen: her husband and king of the Black Tower, Gabriel Cionaodh Marcus Mac Braire; the man who’d made the key that had unlocked the magicked box at the bottom of the sea, Aeric Killian Riordan O’Malley; and the woman who had sacrificed so much to retrieve that piece and bring it into the city, Emmaline Siobhan Keara Gallagher.

The four of them traveled across the square in full formal dress, accompanied by thirteen of the silver-and-black-bedecked Unseelie Shadow Guard.

Aislinn had dressed in a heavy, layered gown of red velvet and black silk with a heavy train that required four of her lady’s maids to carry it. The décolletage plunged so far that Gabriel had tripped over his tongue when complimenting her. The sleeves were piped with thread of silver. She’d chosen her jewels carefully, rubies and diamonds to show off the wealth of the Unseelie. This was the game the royals played and the one she’d signed up for when she killed her biological father—after he’d tried to steal her soul—and gained the Shadow Throne by right of blood.

Her boots were the subtly kick-ass kind she favored, steel toed and laced up the front in a Victorian fashion. Not that, as queen, she got to kick very much ass on her own. She was expected to use her Shadow Guard for that, and, frequently, she did. Her captain walked beside her, the precious piece resting on a red and black satin pillow.

Her husband and Aeric both were dressed in head-to-toe suits of expensive black material, one man as dark as midnight and the other man like the sun.

She’d sent her servants to Emmaline with several dress choices and the Seelie fae had chosen the gray silk. It was an elegant gown, the flow of the garment accentuating the willowy build of her body and the color seeming to make her eyes an even deeper brown. Her hair was long, left natural—as opposed to the practiced upsweep Aislinn was required to wear—curling darkly over her narrow shoulders.

Aeric hadn’t been able to take his eyes off her.

During the last year she’d come to know Aeric very well. She knew his history, knew about Aileen, the assassin, and how he felt about both of them. It was hard to believe he’d gone from hating the wraith who’d existed in his mind for so many years to appreciating and respecting the complex flesh-and-blood woman she actually was.

Aeric was deeply in love.

And Aislinn knew love when she saw it. Emmaline loved him back.

The fae in Piefferburg Square all paused and stilled to watch as they glimpsed the procession, whispered among themselves about the piece and about Emmaline, whose story had already begun to spread all over Piefferburg.

Emmaline hesitated at the heavy double doors of the Rose Tower. “This is wrong.”

“This is necessary,” Aislinn answered in a strong voice. “I don’t like it any more than you do, but when the Unseelie Court makes a promise, we keep it.”

Two of the Rose Tower’s Imperial Guard opened the doors. They entered and traveled down the necessary corridors to get them to the Rose Tower’s throne room.

More whispering. The Seelie Court nobles were highly interested in the entourage from the Black. Especially interested in the Shadow Queen. Oh, yes, she was big gossip in the Rose Tower, of course. She’d been one of them for decades, secretly Unseelie in the Seelie Court—no less the biological daughter of the Shadow King himself.

They reached the throne room and the doors were opened for them. They entered to see the sneering Summer Queen on her rose quartz throne, dressed in shimmering rose and gold, like her guard, and ready to receive her “due.”

Aislinn wanted to punch her in the mouth. That was her true due.

Judging by the way Aeric’s body had gone tense, she wasn’t the only one who wanted to commit violence on the Summer Queen, though she guessed that even more brutal fantasies were flitting through his head.

“You have the piece?” Caoilainn Elspeth Muirgheal always came right to the point.

“We do,” answered Aislinn. She gestured for her captain to approach the throne with the piece on the pillow. “It is yours in good faith, as promised by Aeric Killian Riordan O’Malley, the Blacksmith, in return for Emmaline Siobhan Keara Gallagher’s freedom.”

“Excellent. And I accept it in good faith.”

“Do you?” Aislinn’s voice snapped out like the lash of a whip. It had taken her a while to understand she could talk to the Summer Queen that way without fear of repercussion since she was her equal. Now it came easily.

The Summer Queen was a bitch and a half.

The Seelie Royal appeared surprised. She halted in her examination of the piece, the copper shiny in her palm. “Of course I do. What are you speaking of, Aislinn?”

“When it comes time to join the pieces of the
bosca fadbh
and open the back of the Book of Bindings, will you hand yours over?”

She lowered the piece to her lap, a look of consternation creasing her perfectly beautiful face, suspended always in youth. “We do not yet have all the pieces.”

“That was not my question, Caoilainn. My question was, When we
do
have all the pieces, will you hand your two pieces over to be joined with the third? Will you not impede the opening of the back of the Book of Bindings and the removal of the prison in which we now find ourselves?
That
was my question.”

The Summer Queen studied her in icy silence for several moments before speaking. “I resent the implication. I would not impede the freedom my people so desire.”

If only Aislinn could be sure that was the truth.

Aislinn did the only thing she could do; she inclined her head. “My lady queen, we leave you.”

Her entourage backed away a few steps, as was proper, and then turned to leave the throne room.

“Wait. Our business is not yet finished,” called the Summer Queen.

Aislinn, Gabriel, Aeric, and Emmaline all turned back to face her.

“What other business is there?” asked Gabriel with suspicion lacing his tone.

She motioned with her hand. A door to her left opened and out stepped Lars Elof Thorin Anderssen. Aislinn was familiar with him. He was a nature fae—not all of them were shiny, gentle, and good—who dealt in the realm of death in some capacity that she had never fully understood. Lars was somewhat like a vulture—a necessary and ugly part of the ecosystem. Lars had been the queen’s right hand for her more unpleasant tasks over the centuries. What could any of this have to do with him?

Emmaline seemed to know.

Aislinn watched Emmaline take several steps backward, grim realization dawning on her face. Aeric looked ready to explode.

Aislinn stepped forward. “I claim Emmaline Siobhan Keara Gallagher as a member of the Unseelie Court. She’s mine, Caoilainn.”

“You cannot claim her, Aislinn. She has no magick that draws blood on its own.”

“Emmaline has drawn plenty of blood in her lifetime.” She glanced over to see that Aeric was now holding Emmaline protectively.

The Summer Queen shook her head. “The law says the
magick
must be capable of drawing blood, not the fae.”

“You know as well as I do that those ancient rules are rarely obeyed. I claim her for my court.”

“She is mine.”
The Summer Queen’s voice snapped like frozen branches. “The assassin was mine three hundred and sixty years ago and she remains mine now.”

“We had a deal,” Aeric shouted, stepping toward the throne. The Imperial Guard advanced on him, drawing their charmed iron swords. In Aeric’s case, the charmed iron wouldn’t take away his magick or cause him illness, but the blade would make him bleed well enough.

“We did have a deal,” the Summer Queen answered with a smile of self-assurance. “I agreed to free Emmaline when you asked for her three and a half weeks ago. In return, you agreed to let me hold the second piece of the
bosca fadbh
. The deal was not that I could never take her back. I’m not breaking any promises I made.”

“You coldhearted deceitful bitch.”

Aeric always knew how to keep a civil tongue.

“Guards!” the Summer Queen barked.

All hell broke loose. Gabriel, Aeric, and Emmaline engaged the advancing Imperial Guard. Aislinn gave the order for her Shadow Guard to fight, while her lady’s maids—not exactly the delicate flowers they appeared—drew sharp iron and stood in defensive positions around her with the intent to guard their queen.

But they were in the Rose Tower and had not anticipated a fight. The Imperial Guard outnumbered the Black entourage by at least one hundred to one.

Soon five of them were on Aeric, pressing him to the floor to incapacitate him, while he thrashed and shouted out obscenities. More wrestled Gabriel down and handcuffed him. More still overpowered Aislinn’s thirteen guards and effectively quelled her lady’s maids, until it was only Emmaline alone fighting in hand-to-hand combat with armored men twice her weight. Her crossbow, sadly, was back at the Black Tower, not a suitable accessory for an official envoy to the Seelie Court. Now Aislinn wished Emmaline had worn it and disguised it with glamour.

Holding her arm and bleeding from a cut in her cheek, Emmaline backed away warily from Lars, who had entered the throne room confident of the Summer Queen winning this fight. A thing, apparently, he had every right to be confident of.