Ironside (15 page)

“Not yet,” he said with a laugh.

“I’ll find my own way back,” she mumbled, and headed off, not sure where she was going and not caring.

The trees were heavy with impossible summer leaves, and the earth was warm and fragrant, but the woods were as still as stone. Even the wind seemed dead. Kaye walked on, faster and faster, until she came to a stream pitted with rocks. A squat figure crouched near the water, the brambles and branches of her hair making her look like a barren bush.

“You!” Kaye gasped. “What are you doing here?”

“I am sure,” the Thistlewitch said, her black eyes shining, “you have better questions for me than that.”

“I don’t want any more riddles,” Kaye said, and her voice broke. She sat down on the wet bank, not caring about the water soaking her skirt. “Or eggshells or quests.”

The Thistlewitch reached out a long, lanky arm to pat Kaye with fingers that felt as rough as wood. “Poor little pixie. Come and rest your head on my shoulder.”

“I don’t even know what side you’re on.” Kaye groaned, but she scooted over and leaned against the faery’s familiar bulk. “I’m not sure how many sides there are. I mean, is this like a piece of paper with two sides or like one of those weird dice that Corny has with twenty sides? And if there are really twenty sides, then is anyone on my side?”

“Clever girl,” the Thistlewitch said approvingly.

“Come on, that made no sense. Isn’t there
anything
you can tell me? About anything?”

“You already know what you need and you need what you know.”

“But that’s a riddle!” Kaye protested.

“Sometimes the riddle is the answer,” the Thistlewitch replied, but she patted Kaye’s shoulder all the same.

In the darkness of early dawn, Corny woke to distant bells and the thunderous pounding of hooves. He rolled over, disoriented, sore, and filled with sudden panic. Somehow he’d gotten his leather jacket back on, but the edges of the sleeves looked tattered. His wrists ached and when he inadvertently pulled against the shoelace that tied them, it made them hurt more. His mouth tasted sour.

Realizing he was still in the Seelie Court explained the dread and the discomfort. But when he saw Luis, wrapped in Kaye’s purple coat, cheek pillowed against the burl of a nearby blackthorn tree, he remembered the rest. He remembered what an idiot he’d been.

And the agonizing softness of Luis’s lips.

And the way Luis had brushed Corny’s hair off his face while he puked in the grass.

And the way that Luis had only been being kind.

Shame made his face hot and his eyes burn. His throat closed up at the thought of actually having to talk about it. He rolled onto his knees and stood awkwardly, physical distance the only thing that calmed him. Maybe Kaye was in the direction of the noise. If he could find her, Luis might not say anything about what had happened. He might act like it had never happened. Corny threaded his way alone through the trees, until he spotted the procession.

Silver-shod faerie horses raced past, their manes streaming and eyes glittering, the faces of the faeries on their backs covered by helms. The first rider was arrayed in dark red armor that seemed to flake like old paint, the next in white as leathery as a snake’s egg. Then a black steed galloped toward Corny, only to rear up, front hooves dancing in the air. This rider’s armor was as black and shining as crow feathers.

Corny stepped away. The rough bark of a tree trunk scraped his back.

The black-clad rider drew a curved blade that glittered like rippling water.

Corny stumbled, terror making him stupid. The horse trotted closer, its breath hot on Corny’s face. He threw up his tied hands in warding.

The sword cut through the shoelace binding his wrists. Corny cried out, falling in the dirt.

The rider sheathed the sword and pulled off a ridged helm.

“Cornelius Stone,” Roiben said.

Corny laughed in hysterical relief. “Roiben! What are you doing here?”

“I came to bargain with Silarial,” Roiben said. “I saw Sorrowsap on the other side of the lake. Who bound your hands? Where’s Kaye?”

“This is, um, for my own good,” Corny said, holding up his wrists.

Roiben frowned, leaning forward in the saddle. “Favor me with the story.”

Reaching up, Corny touched one of his fingers to a low green leaf. It curled, turning gray. “Pretty nasty curse, huh? Tying me up with the shoelace was supposed to keep me from touching anyone by accident. At least I think that was what it was for—I don’t remember everything about last night.”

Roiben shook his head, unsmiling. “Leave this place. As quickly as you can. Sorrowsap will get you safely out of the Bright Court lands. Nothing is as it seems now, apparently, not even you. Kaye—she ought—” He paused. “Tell me she’s well.”

Corny wanted to tell Roiben that he could shove his bullshit pretense of caring up his ass, but he was still a little shaken by the sword so recently swung at his head. “What do you care?” he asked instead.

“I care.” Roiben closed his eyes, as though willing himself calm. “Whatever you think of me, get her out of here.” He leaned back in the saddle and twitched the reins. The horse stepped back.

“Wait,” Corny said. “There’s something I’ve been wanting to ask you: What’s it like being a King? What’s it like finally being so powerful that no one can control you?” It was sort of a taunt, sure, but Corny really wanted the answer.

Roiben laughed hollowly. “I’m sure I wouldn’t know.”

“Fine. Don’t tell me.”

Roiben tilted his head, his pale eyes suddenly grave. Corny was disconcerted to have the faerie Lord’s full attention fixed on his face. “The more powerful you become, the more others will find ways to master you. They’ll do it through those you love and through those you hate; they will find the bit and the bridle that fits your mouth and makes you yield.”

“So there’s no way to be safe?”

“Be invisible, perhaps. Be worthless.”

Corny shook his head. “Doesn’t work.”

“Make them yield first,” Roiben said, and the half smile on his lips wasn’t quite enough to render the suggestion frivolous. “Or be dead. No one can yet master the dead.” He replaced his helm.

“Now get Kaye and go.”

With a flick of the reins Roiben wheeled the horse around and rode down the path, dust clouding behind the shining hooves.

Corny threaded his way back through the woods, only to find Adair leaning against a tree.

“You’re an ill fit among such beauty,” said the faery, pushing back butter blond hair. “It’s a mistake you humans often make—being so ugly.”

Corny thought of Roiben’s words.
Make them yield first.

“This was a pretty cool gift,” he said, letting his hand trail across the bark of a nearby oak, blackening the trunk. “The curse. I should thank you.”

Adair stepped back.

“You must have been really pissed off. The curse even withers fey flesh.” Corny smiled. “Now I just have to decide what’s the best way to express my gratitude. Whatever do you think Miss Manners would advise?”

Kaye tried to keep her face expressionless as Roiben ducked under the canopy of branches that formed Silarial’s chamber. His silver hair poured over his shoulders like mercury, but it was sweat-darkened at his neck.

Longing twisted in her gut along with a terrible, giddy anticipation she couldn’t seem to quash. The human glamour Silarial had covered her with felt tight and heavy. She wanted to call out to him, to touch his sleeve. It was easy to imagine that there had been some misunderstanding, that if she could just speak to him for a moment, everything would be like it had been before. Of course, she was supposed to stand near the trunk of the massive willow and keep her eyes on the floor the way the human attendants did.

The glamour had seemed clever at first, when Silarial had suggested it. Roiben wasn’t allowed to see her—according to the rules of the declaration—and if she was glamoured, she would remain unseen. Kaye was just supposed to wait until he and Silarial were done talking, and then she was supposed to try to convince him to go along with Silarial’s plan. If she agreed with it, of course. Which she was pretty sure she wouldn’t, but at least she would get the smug satisfaction of pissing him off.

It had sounded like a better scenario than it felt now as she stood there, watching him through her lashes as if they were strangers.

Silarial looked up lazily from her cushions. “Ethine tells me that you will not agree to my conditions.”

“I do not think you expected me to, m—” He stopped suddenly, and Silarial laughed.

“You nearly called me ‘my Lady,’ didn’t you? That’s a habit in need of breaking.”

He looked down and his mouth twisted. “Indeed. You have caught me being foolish.”

“Nonsense. I find it charming.” Smiling, she swept her hand toward where Kaye stood among Silarial’s attendants. “You must be parched for a taste of the changeless lands of your youth.”

A willowy human in a simple blue shift stepped out of the line as if by some signal Kaye could not discern. The servant leaned into a copper bowl on the table as if she were bobbing for apples. Then, kneeling in front of Roiben, she bent backward and opened her mouth. The surface of the wine shimmered between her teeth.

Kaye was reminded suddenly and terribly of Janet drowning, of how her lips had been parted just like that, of how her mouth had looked filled with seawater. Kaye pressed her fingernails into her palms.

“Drink,” said the Bright Lady, and her eyes were full of laughter.

Roiben knelt down and kissed the girl’s mouth, cupping her head and tilting her so that he might swallow. “Decadent,” he said, settling back onto the cushions. He looked amused and far too relaxed, his long limbs spread out as though he were in his own parlor. “Do you know what I really miss, though? Roasted dandelion tea.”

Silarial petted the girl’s hair before she sent her back to fetch a mouthful from another bowl. Kaye reminded herself not to stare, to look up only through her lashes, to keep her face carefully neutral. She dug her fingernails deeper into her skin.

“So tell me,” said Silarial. “What conditions do you propose?”

“You must risk something if you wish me to risk everything.”

“The Unseelie Court has no hope of winning a battle. You ought to take whatever I offer and be grateful for it.”

“Nonetheless,” Roiben said. “If I lose the duel against your champion, you will become sovereign of the Unseelie Court, and I will be dead. Quite a lot for me to wager against your offer of transient peace, but I do not ask for equal stakes. If I win, I only ask that you agree to make Ethine Queen in your place.”

For a moment Kaye thought she saw Silarial’s eyes shine with triumph. “Only? And if I don’t agree?”

Roiben leaned back on the cushions. “Then war, winnable or no.”

Silarial narrowed her eyes, but there was a smile at the corners of her mouth. “You have changed from the knight that I knew. “

He shook his head. “Do you recall my eagerness to prove myself to you? Pathetically grateful for even the smallest regard. How tedious you must have found me.”

“I admit I find you more interesting now, bargaining for the salvation of those whom you despise.”

Roiben laughed, and the sound of it—thick with self-loathing—chilled Kaye.

“But perhaps you despise me even more?” Silarial asked.

He looked down at the fingers of his left hand, watching them pluck at the onyx clasps of his other cuff. “I think of the way I longed for you, and it makes me sick.” He looked up at her. “But that doesn’t mean I’ve stopped longing. I yearn for home.”

Silarial shook her head. “You told Ethine you would never step down from being Lord of the Night Court. You would never reconsider your position. You would never serve me. Is that still true?”

“I won’t be as I once was.” Roiben gestured to Kaye and to the other girls standing against the wall. “No matter what I long for.”

“You have said that nothing about me tempts you,” Silarial said. “What of it?”

He smiled. “I told Ethine to tell you that. I never said it.”

“And is it so?”

He stood, walked the short distance to where Silarial reclined, and knelt before her. He lifted his hand to her cheek, and Kaye could see his hand tremble. “I am tempted,” he said.

The Bright Queen leaned closer and pressed her mouth to his. The first kiss was short and careful and chaste, but the second was not. Roiben’s hands cupped her skull and bent her back, kissing her like he wanted to break her in half. When he drew back from Silarial, her lip bled and her eyes were dark with desire.

Kaye’s face flamed hot and she could feel her heartbeat even in her cheeks. It seemed to her that Roiben’s hand’s shaking as he reached for Silarial was worse than the kisses, worse than anything he had said or could say. She knew what it felt like to tremble like that before touching someone—desire so acute that it became despair.

Kaye forced herself to look at the dirt, to concentrate on the winding roots next to her slipper. She tried not to think about anything. She didn’t know how much she’d been hoping that he still loved her, until she felt how much it hurt to realize he didn’t.

A rustle of clothes made Kaye look up automatically, but it was only Silarial rising from her cushions. Roiben’s eyes were wary.

“You must want me to agree to your terms very much,” the Bright Queen said lightly, but her voice was unsteady. She brushed a strand of hair away from his face.

“Ethine would very probably give you back your crown were she to win it,” Roiben replied.

“If you should defeat my champion…,” Silarial began, then paused, looking down at him. She brought one white hand to his cheek. “If you should defeat my champion, you will regret it.”

He half smiled.

“But I will grant you your boon. Ethine will be Queen if you win. See that you do not win.” She walked to the bowls of liquids, and Kaye saw Silarial’s face reflected in all their surfaces. “Of course, all this negotiating matters not at all if you will merely join me. Leave the court of those you detest. Together we can end this war today. You would be my consort—”

“No,” he said. “I told you that I won’t—”

“There is someone here with the means to convince you.”

He stood suddenly, whirling toward the wall of servant girls. His gaze shifted across them and stopped on her. “Kaye.” His voice sounded anguished.

Kaye dropped her gaze to the ground, gritting her teeth.

“How did you guess?” Silarial asked.

Roiben walked to Kaye and put his hand on her arm. She jumped, shifting away from his touch. “I should have guessed sooner. Very clever to glamour her so thoroughly.”

Kaye felt sick thinking of the way he’d kissed Silarial. She wanted to slap him. She wanted to spit in his face.