A Tale of Two Kingdoms (23 page)

“Who’s jokin’?”

Ram opened the door and stuck his head out. “We could use a tray. Bewley’s Irish Afternoon and gingerbread scones. Ask them to bring us some honey butter and maple butter.” Pause. “No. I do no’ want milk and I do no’ want half milk. I want cream, real cream. As a matter of fact, I want heavy cream. Do no’ laugh. I’m bein’ serious.”

He closed the door and sat down next to his mother.

“Now then, Mum. Are you familiar with the phrase drama queen?”

She saw his mouth twitch. “’Tis nothin’ funny about this, Rammel. I can no’ lose one of my children. As if I have one to spare.”

“No one is suggestin’ so. Only sayin’ that we do no’ cry wolf unless there really is one.”

“What are you talking about?”

Ram realized that he’d spent so much time with Elora he sometimes forgot that some of her expressions were unfamiliar to others. “Oh. ‘Tis just a reference to a silly story. Ne’er mind at all.”

She sniffed. “You look good, Rammel. Have you seen your father?”

“On the way up.”

“Ah. How did he seem?”

Ram pursed his lips and looked at the fire like he was trying to decide how to answer. “Mellow. Subdued.”

She nodded. “Your brother left for London. ‘Twas difficult enough to e’en get him to go. I do no’ know what is the bother with him.”

“Has that somethin’ to do with Song?”

“Aye. Everythin’.”

She told him about the first message concerning the threat that they would not see their children again if they did not make peace and bless the mating. And about the second message outlining details for a forced negotiation. There was a postscript to the second message urging them to watch a special documentary broadcast to be aired on the History Channel that night. It claimed that important information pertinent to the discussion at hand would be presented.

Rammel had dinner with his parents. He couldn’t remember ever having had dinner, just the three of them, in his life. There was a tiny dining room decorated in the dark wood style of an eighteenth century tavern. The three of them ate together in front of the fire.

Ram was curious to know about the general reaction to the elopement. He was told that there were factions calling for the Hawkings to surrender the monarchy. The hardest thing for his parents was hearing descriptions of Song. The most polite words were often disgrace and traitor. Ram felt a shameful blush creeping up his neck when he recalled that his first reaction had been to use that same word.

Ethelred looked at his watch. “’Tis time for the tele presentation if you’re still wantin’ to view it.”

They adjourned to a small parlor that was outfitted in the modern style of comfortable furniture. A Welsh professor had been given information about the political histories of elves and fae by an Irishman. The professor had gone to the sites mentioned in the evidence he’d been given and found sufficient reason to believe the claims of the tale that elves and fae were the same people when they had first arrived in the Brit Isles and that the root of the millennia-long war was a family feud over a mating.

Ram took this revelation in stride since he’d already heard the story, but he could tell that his parents were stunned. When it was over, Ethelred said nothing, but walked to the liquor cache and poured himself a scotch. As an afterthought, as if he’d just remembered he wasn’t alone, he turned and lifting the glass said, “Anyone else?”

Ram said, “Still on American time. ‘Tis early for me.”

Tepring said, “Give me a double.” She looked at Ram. “Do you think any of it could be true?”

“Aye. I work with an elf who needed an emergency blood transfusion last year. There was no’ elf blood available, but there was fae blood. When I protested, they laughed and said ‘twas the same.”

“I had always wondered…” Ethelred began, but didn’t finish the sentence. “I wonder what Blood will do, or not do, with this information.”

“What will you do with it, Da?” Ram asked.

Ethelred gave his son a thorough appraisal, then said, “The next time I encounter fae, I will probably hesitate before I begin throwin’ rocks.”

Ram laughed. Tepring rolled her eyes.

Etana was an introvert at her core, but she had been given a talent for guiding others through negotiations to resolve disputes and hoped that the children of Danu weren’t as intractable as others said.

“No one ever wants to compromise, your Highness. But the alternative would be to carry a twin blade ax and lop off the head of everyone who disagrees with you until the day you encounter someone with a different perspective and a faster, sharper ax.”

“Do no’ patronize me, young lady. Who are you again and what is your interest in this matter? If you be neither elf nor fae, I fail to grasp that you have a say.” Ritavish Torquil, the fae king, was visibly irritated and wishing that Ethelred was still king of Ireland. There was an elf he could at least respect, one with whom civil conversation was possible.

That traditional regard between leaders was what had enabled the elves and fae to be at war in name only for the past several centuries. They held each other at bay with mutual distaste, but without actual bloodshed. The fae king knew that any reasonable head of state would naturally see the wisdom in maintaining the status quo. Since sitting down for talks with the young elf king, he was having misgivings about whether or not the boy understood that.

“I don’t have a say in the outcome, although that would certainly simplify and expedite. What I do have a say in is how the proceedings proceed. So, once again, can we agree on the starting point that both parties will have to find flexibility in order for us to reach accord.”

“O’ course,” said Ritavish.

“So far, Ms. Logature, I’ve heard nothin’ to indicate an understandin’ of the crux of the matter.”

“What is your view of the crux of the matter, Your Highness?”

“Motivation.”

Etana, in the guise of Arles Logature, showed no emotion. “Would you care to expand that thought?”

“Certainly. You’re after compromise. You can pretty it up with words like flexibility all you want and it still comes down to one thin’, givin’ in. I’m no’ sayin’ there’s ne’er a reason to do so, but I am sayin’ that one of us is powerfully motivated, while the other is no’.”

Reading between the lines of what Aelsblood was saying, Etana allowed the smallest flicker of a scowl to read on her features, thereby betraying her distaste for the elf and his comments.

The meeting quickly degenerated into a standing yell rather than a seated talk. It became clear to Etana that Aelsblood had only agreed to the meeting for the opportunity to grandstand to his people and not because of a sincere approach to the subject with mind and heart open to change.

By midafternoon the television channels were playing Aelsblood’s parting comments so often the sound bite was almost on loop. Ram stood in his father’s study readying to watch the replay. His mother sat stiffly, spine straight, with a handkerchief in her hand. The necessity of his mother needing a handkerchief close by at all times made Ram frown.

When Aelsblood emerged from the stately old Greco-Roman building that housed the Foreign and Commonwealth Office, he was surrounded by security holding back a throng of reporters. Though he may have appeared to be grim to those who didn’t know him, his family recognized the look in his eye and set of his mouth as enjoying the attention. For the moment, he was not the ruler of a small country that was insignificant on the world stage. He was the focal point of all eyes around the world and he clearly planned to make the most of it.

He paused on the steps.

“Your Highness, are you leaving the peace talks without resolution?”

“If the fae prince is no’ returned, the fae are left with no heir apparent. Therefore, they have more to lose in the bargain than elves. When they begin to exhibit a proper appreciation of that, there may be room for negotiation, but understand this, Ireland has no need to negotiate peace because my country is no’ eager for the return of a traitor. They can keep my sister and good luck getting’ their countrymen to accept an elf as queen.”

Two dozen voices barked follow-up questions. He nodded at one. “What did you think of the presentation on the history of the conflict?”

The king made a dismissive noise. “Hogwash.”

The camera followed until his limousine pulled away from the curb.

CHAPTER 13

With his arms crossed over his chest, Ram had watched Blood publicly throw their sister away. His mother had left the room sobbing. His father had switched off the tele with a remote, poured a whiskey and sat down heavily in his favorite chair. His dogs were lying on their sides between Ethelred’s chair and the fire.

There was no sound in the room other than everyday sounds that serve as the score to contentment, or melancholy, or despair, all relative to the emotions of the perceiver. The faint patter of rain, a small crackle of fire, and an occasional sigh coming from one of the dogs.

As Ram had replayed the broadcast in his mind, over and over, he had felt his fingers curl into fists and was seeing flashes of red battle haze. At length he interrupted the everyday sounds that could serve as the score for contentment or melancholy, depending on one’s viewpoint.

If he had been someone else, he might have seen Ethelred’s study as a supremely comfortable masculine retreat with muted colors and furniture worn in such a way as to impart that the occupants lived in harmony with a long history. Since he wasn’t someone else, he associated the room with memories of his father’s disapproval, which was swiftly and invariably followed by whatever punishment his father thought appropriate.

He wished he could tell his father about his accomplishments. He wished he might have experienced the approval that Aelsblood took for granted. Just once. Maybe.

When Rammel broke the silence, it was to say, “I would very much like to kill my brother right now.”

Ethelred looked up and met Ram’s gaze. “Me, too.”

Ram sat down in the chair across from his father. “I’ve always wondered, Da, why you passed the crown on to Blood? You were still young. A good king. Will you tell me?”

With a sigh he said, “I had observed that some monarchs with capable offsprin’, held onto the throne ‘til the end of their days, for so long that by the time they passed, the heir’s time was passed as well. Did no’ seem right to me. No’ right or wise. So I thought to avoid the error and the regret.”

“And did you avoid regret?”

Ethelred laughed softly and looked at Ram with sad eyes. “Am no’ thinkin’ so today. I would no’ give a ha’penny for a man who would abandon a member of his family.”

Ram saw a barrage of images of his childhood. He held no illusion that he hadn’t been a difficult kid. He’d been practically impossible as a matter of fact. When he would run away to the New Forest and live alone like a feral child, his father hadn’t abandoned him. He’d seen to it that Liam O’Torvall and the people of Black-on-Tarry had adopted him and were looking out for him like a community project. Whenever he came back home, he was welcomed. Whenever he couldn’t stand to be there, he left and his father let him. If he looked at it honestly, through the eyes of an adult, he could see that it wasn’t just to be rid of a troublemaker, that his father had done the best thing for him.

Ram sighed. “So what are you thinkin’ we might do?”

“Do? I wish I knew. I’m receptive to suggestions if you have some.”

“I might.”

“Let’s hear it. “

“I’m no’ a constitutional scholar….” Ethelred snorted into his whiskey tumbler. “But if I remember correctly, the crown is yours for life unless you decide to give it up.”

“Aye. ‘Tis true.”

“So I’m thinkin’, if ‘twas yours to give up, can you no’ simply take it back?”

Ethelred barked out a short laugh, then looking closer at Ram, let his smile fade. “You’re serious?”

“Aye.”

“What makes you think that I would have it back in a hundred years?”

“Aelsong.”

Ethelred stared at Ram for a full minute, then rose and walked to his desk that sat in the crescent of a large bay window at the end of the room. He picked up the phone. “I need to see Hogmanay Kilter. Find him and bring him to the palace right away.”