The Dark Throne (67 page)

“Anything left for me?” the navigator asked as he approached. I watched him evaluate the possible places to sit: next to Liam, or next to Calliea. He wavered and turned toward my brother.

“Of course we saved food for you,” I said, “and this is my brother, Liam. But you can’t sit there…one of his teammates is coming to join us.”

“I think they’re all fine on their—” Liam stopped as I elbowed him clandestinely. “Yeah, Quinn’s going to sit there.”

I raised my eyebrows at Merrick. “So you should probably sit next to Calliea.”

Calliea raised her head at the mention of Quinn’s name. “Is Quinn the brown one? Oh, I doubt he’s coming to sup with us, I saw him quite…involved…in conversation with Niamh.” She smiled suggestively.

“One of the other guys is going to be here then,” I countered. I caught Merrick’s eyes and gave him a look of silent encouragement. He squared his shoulders and turned to Calliea.

“Do you mind if I sit here, then?” he asked courteously.

She gestured to the empty space with one hand. “Well, it’s open space, so anyone who likes can have it.”

“Although, Merrick, I’d much rather have
you
sit with us than just anyone,” I said. Liam frowned at me and Calliea gave me a strange look. I winced. All right, too much.

But then Calliea turned to Merrick as he settled onto the ground beside her. “Did you find what the Queen was looking for?”

Merrick pressed his lips together and glanced at Liam and me.

“Oh come on, it’s the Bearer and the Seer,” said Callie. “If they can’t hear it, no one should.”

Merrick glanced down at his piece of bread and then back to Calliea. “Yes. I saw it. Her. I don’t know what to call it.”

“Call what?” I looked between the two of them.

Calliea leaned toward me and said in a low voice, “The High Queen asked us not to discuss it with anyone.” She brightened. “But she does want to see you to discuss it.”

“Then why did you just ask Merrick about it in front of us?” I pointed out, raising an eyebrow.

“Because I’m incorrigibly curious,” Calliea replied, taking an emphatic bite from her last bit of bread.

I glanced at Liam. “You good for a few minutes?”

Liam grinned. “Don’t worry about me. I adapt.”

“Thanks for the food,” I told Calliea, brushing the dust from my legs. I strode toward the Queen’s tent, the great Wild Court banner planted on its staff in front of the entrance. Elwyn stood outside, hands clasped behind her back in a relaxed yet watchful posture. She gave me a half-bow as I approached.

“Lady Bearer, did the
vyldretning
summon you?”

“No,” I answered. “She didn’t
summon
me.” I smiled a little. “But she asked me to come and see her.”

“Forgive my clumsy words,” Elwyn said gracefully with a nod. “Not even the High Queen would summon the Bearer. She’s been speaking to her advisors since we made camp.”

“Thanks,” I said, walking past the vanguard commander, who gave me another nod and then turned her attention back to the dusty camp. I swept aside the tent flap, cooler shadows embracing me as I walked into the tent.

Vell stood before the table, which held maps, scrolls, sketches, the remnants of a carved set of figurines and a few small leather-bound books. Gray stood next to her, speaking in a low voice, and Arcana prowled around the edge of the table like a restless predator. Her expressionless eyes snapped up to meet mine as I entered. I held her gaze defiantly until she turned back to the table, cocking her head to one side in that unsettling mimicry of living motion.

“Tess,” said Vell. She motioned for me to join her at the table.

“Since when do you have a guard outside?”

“Not a guard,” said Vell, wrinkling her nose.

“Since the High Queen is sending messengers constantly to coordinate with the Seelie and Unseelie forces, it helps to have a commander to receive the messengers,” said Gray.

“And the Vaelanbrigh is a messenger to the Unseelie Court now?” I raised one eyebrow.

“If you’d just wait a moment, I’ll tell you why,” replied Vell, raising an eyebrow in return.

“If the
vyldretning
would choose to use one of her Three as a messenger, that is her decision,” said Gray carefully, her tone as neutral as if she were commenting on the weather.

“The brightly-burning Bearer does not
like
to see others decide where her playthings go,” said Arcana, her voice sliding low through the tent, like a snake slithering through the dust.

I turned sharply toward Arcana, but before I could say anything, Vell straightened and said, “Enough.” Her golden eyes bored into the shadows. “Arcana, go and check on the wards surrounding camp.”

Arcana stepped forward, bowed stiffly to Vell, and left the tent, her arms hanging limply by her sides.

“Perhaps that wasn’t wise to assign her such a menial task,” said Gray softly.

“I choose to use my Three however I deem necessary,” replied Vell, “as you just told the Bearer.”

Gray bowed her head slightly. “Yes, my queen.”

Vell inhaled deeply. “And besides, the wards about camp are not inconsequential.” She let out her breath in a long, low sigh, resting her hands on the table. “Now, Tess, come here and I’ll tell you what we’ve discovered.”

I stepped close to the table and looked down at the huge map, marked extensively now with notes in its margins, small sketches dotting its expanse and the figurines representing opposing forces positioned precisely. I looked at the red, white and black figurines, now all aligned in a row, and a strange thrill of anxiety rippled through me.

“We are perhaps over a fortnight’s hard ride from the White City,” said Vell, pointing at a sketch added painstakingly to the center of the Deadlands on the map. “It was once a great city to rival Darkhill and Brightvale, where all the people of this world converged.” She smiled mirthlessly. “Even my people, generations ago. It was a day’s ride from the Great Gate, and it fell to its inhabitants to welcome those travelers from the mortal world, and provision those preparing to journey from this world.”

I studied the small, detailed depiction. “It’s a ruin now.”

“Yes. When Mab and Titania moved the scar of the Great Gate, the White City was moved as well. It’s difficult to tell if distances will shift, as they did when we rode for the Darinwel.”

“But that’s not why Finnead went to the Unseelie camp.”

“No.” Vell shook her head, looking down at the map. “When he returned with his vanguard, Finnead told me that he had gotten very close to the Dark Archer. Close enough to see the Archer’s true face.”

“And?” Foreboding tightened my stomach at the sight of Vell’s grave face.

“The Archer is Mab’s sister, the crown princess,” Vell said softly.

I caught my breath. “That’s not possible. She’s dead.” But even as I protested I saw the truth in the downcast faces of both Gray and Vell. Neither of them met my eyes. “She’s
dead
,” I insisted. “I thought—Finnead
saw
her die.” I felt like the earth was opening beneath my feet. My heartbeat pounded loudly in my ears. “It’s
not possible
.”

“It is possible,” said Gray. “The Enemy has many dark secrets, and he will use them like blades against us.”

I shook my head. “I don’t understand. Is it like Arcana, or did she never actually die?”

“We don’t know,” Vell said. “It’s possible that Finnead only
thought
he saw her die. He didn’t speak of it in great detail to anyone, and by the time he escaped, he was half-mad from torture.”

“How could nobody have known, if she was still alive?” I shook my head again, trying to fathom the idea. “She was the crown princess. Wouldn’t Mab have
known
?”

“Malravenar shrouds his lands in powerful darkness,” said Gray.

“I didn’t know when two of my own people were held captive,” Vell said, a flash of anger in her eyes at the memory of Luca and Chael held prisoner.

“Why?” I asked. “What use would he have for her?”

Gray pressed her lips together and looked at Vell. The High Queen met my eyes. “She was the beloved of both the Unseelie Queen and the Unseelie Vaelanbrigh.”

I swallowed hard, trying to ignore the nausea swirling in my stomach. “I think what you mean to say,” I said in a measured voice, “is that she
is
the beloved of the Unseelie Queen.” I took a deep breath. “And the Wild Court Vaelanbrigh.”

A heavy silence pressed down on us. Gray turned to Vell and bowed her head. “My queen, with your permission I will go and speak to your armorer.”

Vell nodded. “I expect a report on our armament when you return. Tell Elwyn I’ll receive no messengers until I am done speaking to the Bearer.”

“Yes, my queen.” The golden-haired warrior bowed her head to Vell. She touched my arm as she passed me, a clear gesture of sympathy that caught me by surprise. I felt tears pressing behind my eyes, and I couldn’t swallow past the knot in my throat. The Sword circled in my chest, but the warmth of its power didn’t comfort me.

“You’re allowed to cry and you’re allowed to punch things, but you have to decide which you want to do,” came Vell’s voice. “It’s worse to be caught in the middle. Be angry or be sad.”

I looked up through my blurred vision, tears balanced on my lower lashes. Vell sat on the edge of the table, heedless of the maps, and rested her elbows on her knees, raising her eyebrows at me. I swallowed and wiped my eyes with the edge of my sleeve. “Someone told me once that it’s better to be angry than to worry. So I think it’s better to be angry than to be sad.”

“I’d give you a hug, but that’s not really my style,” said Vell dryly.

I gave a watery laugh. “True.” I pressed the heels of my hands to my eyes again. “This is just…a surprise.”

“That’s a bit of an understatement.” Vell picked up one of the carved red archers, turning it between her fingers. She tilted her head at the space beside her in invitation. I sat on the edge of the table, careful not to topple the remaining figurines.

“So you sent Finnead to tell Mab that her sister is alive?” I asked, watching the red archer turned over again and again between Vell’s pale fingers. The feeling of the earth opening beneath me had settled into a strange sensation almost like vertigo. I gripped the edge of the table and felt the wood beneath my fingers, using the texture of the grain to anchor myself.

“The alliance between us is one of necessity,” Vell replied quietly, “but still…I thought of what it would mean to me if my own sister were alive, and someone knew of it.”

I took a deep breath. “You’re acting very kindly toward someone who showed you nothing but scorn.”

“If I showed her nothing but scorn now that it was within my own power, that would make me no better than she,” the
vyldretning
said, pausing in her turning of the archer and pressing the pad of her thumb against the sharp point of the figurine’s drawn arrow. “And in the end it might lead to more bloodshed, if she does not think the Wild Court an honorable ally.”

“I wouldn’t put it beyond Mab to treat her allies badly,” I muttered.

“There’s no love lost between you and Mab, and trust me, I don’t really like her either,” Vell replied. “But these aren’t ordinary times.”

“And you’re not an ordinary
ulfdrengr
,” I added, “although that’s a bit of an oxymoron. In any case, you’ve acted as a queen should, I think.”

“I’m glad I have your approval,” Vell said, a glimmer of amusement in her eyes.

“You know what I mean.” My smile quickly faded. “So what happens now?”

“With the Archer?” Vell shook her head. “I can’t rightly say. Honestly, I wish there were a simple solution. We don’t know whether she’s alive, or dead, or enthralled…” The High Queen shrugged.

“Should it really matter?” I asked darkly. “She is an instrument of the Enemy now.”

“Luca was an instrument of the Enemy once,” Vell reminded me almost gently. “And you refused to kill him, even when he asked it of you himself.”

I swallowed, jarred by the switch from thinking of Finnead to thinking about Luca. “I know. Thanks for reminding me of the other part of this complicated situation.”

“It’s only as complicated as you wish to make it,” Vell said in her no-nonsense voice.

“No, I’m pretty sure it’s complicated
without
my wishing for it to be complicated,” I retorted, my voice heating. “I didn’t
wish
for Finnead’s first love to suddenly be
alive
. Or whatever she is.” Vell picked up a second figurine, a rider this time, examining it as if it were a precious jewel, turning every face of it to the light. “I mean, who
else
is going to suddenly reappear from the dead?” I asked in exasperation. “And what am I supposed to do now? I
know
that Finnead is going to be single-mindedly determined to rescue the princess, because that was his one failure, and he’s the one who said she was dead, and he’s all about honor and duty.” I hopped down from the table, pacing back and forth, unable to sit still any longer. The Sword hummed a low tone within its sheath. Somehow its voice slowed my racing mind, soothing my frantic thoughts.

“I can…feel certain things, through my connection with Finnead,” Vell said carefully. “And I can tell you some of these things, as your friend, but only if you want me to tell you.”

I pulled out a chair and sat heavily in it, suddenly weary. “You might as well. If he’s being his inscrutable self, I can use some insight.”

Vell nodded, her crown gleaming across her pale brow. Her eyes went half-lidded for a moment, her gaze distant. I waited. Then she blinked, and said, “He’s resolved to rescue her. When he first returned, I couldn’t get a clear read on his intentions. But now he’s decided.”

I clenched my jaw. “And do you think it’s a good idea?”

Vell pressed her lips into a thin white line. “I could force him to obey me. But I would rather not use my power to compel those closest to me.”

“You didn’t quite answer the question.”

“I think that anything other than focusing on the defeat of Malravenar is not a good idea,” Vell replied finally.