Child of Darkness-L-D-2 (9 page)

Would they go to live in the Upworld, away from everything that was, if loathsome, at least familiar? Away from Fenrick?

She would run off before that happened.

The throne-room doors opened again, this time without announcement. Cedric entered, hastily tying the sleeves of his robe.

At the sight of him, Cerridwen’s stomach dropped. He looked so angry and serious. Her thoughts had strayed several times over the course of the day, directly where she had not wanted them to go. She’d imagined, against her will, what it would be like to mate with him, and the imagining had been awkward and terrible. The reality would not, she assumed, be much better.

“I apologize for my lateness, Your Majesty,” he said, without bowing, and mounted the steps to the dais. He looked, very briefly, at Cerridwen, then looked away as if disgusted. As if he had a right to be disgusted! He was not being mated to a creature older than her mother, older, probably, than her father.

Her mother nodded to her faithful servant. “You are forgiven. You have missed introductions. This is Bauchan, an emissary from the Court of Queene Danae.”

“Queene?” Cedric laughed, as though the Ambassador did not stand right before him, as though he were not normally well-mannered and thoughtful. “And how long did Queene Danae wait to proclaim her sovereignty after Mabb and her Court were forced Underground?

A week? Two?”

The Ambassador’s antennae showed as two livid streaks of red against his hair. “Queene Danae has not sent us here to quarrel—”

“You are certainly here to quarrel, if you come here thinking to gain tribute from us.”

Cedric’s voice echoed around the shocked room. “Our Queene will not kneel.”

“Mother,” Cerridwen whispered, as close to the Queene’s ear as she dared. “Stop him.”

She held up a hand, but said nothing.

Silence fell over the throne room—even the whisperers held their breath—as Bauchan and Cedric glared at each other. The former had a look on his face as though he’d tasted something nasty. The latter looked almost triumphant.

Finally, Bauchan spoke. “It is with great regret that we must come to our unpleasant reason for our visit here.”

“I think coming to your reason would be very wise,” Cedric said calmly. He bowed to Ayla.

“Your Majesty, I apologize for my rudeness.”

Ayla nodded. “Do not let such an outburst happen again.”

The goal, Cerridwen realized, had been to destroy all pretense of politeness. That was why Cedric had been so late to the meeting and was so rude when he arrived. To let the Ambassador know that the Queene and her Court would show them no favor.

“The reason for our visit,” Bauchan stated, loudly, as if attempting to once again control the situation in the throne room, “is that we have received some very troubling news. On the surface, we Fae have kept the Elves in our good graces. We were unaware of the tensions that existed Underground, and the steps that the Elves here might take against our Fae brethren.

“In the Upworld, both Faery and Elf alike wish to avoid any conflict below. In the words of our wise Queene Danae, how can we expect to reclaim the Earth the Humans have spoiled if we cannot cease the fighting between our races?”

“Truly, your great Queene is wise, in as much as she can fathom,” Queene Ayla said, sounding almost bored. “She has no concept of the hardships faced Underground, yet she speaks with great authority on that which she does not know.”

“She knows that to be unified against an enemy is to be stronger,” Bauchan corrected. “But we do not seek to unify the warring Elves and Faeries of the Underground. We seek to prevent a tragedy to come.”

He turned to one of the Faeries who stood behind him. Though the Faery’s wings were unfettered, it wore a hood over its face. One could not tell if it was male or female. Bauchan gripped the hood and pulled it away, revealing a sight that made the Courtiers recoil in horror as Cerridwen did.

The creature barely resembled a Faery. Its head was bare, ridged white skin stretching in uneven furrows over the crown of its skull. Where the eyes had once been, now only a rumpled seam of ruined flesh remained. It was as if a giant claw had swiped all of the pitiable creature’s face from his head.

“What could have done this?” Her mother’s voice was hard as stone. She had not recoiled from the sight. She did not look horrified. She looked angry.

“Waterhorses.” Bauchan pressed the hood into the maimed Faery’s hands, one of which was nothing more than a stump.

Cerridwen had never heard of Waterhorses, but she could gauge the seriousness of the situation from the reaction of older members of the Court. A terrified scream sounded over cries of disbelief and despair.

The Ambassador did not react to the stir he’d caused. “We believe that the Elves of the Underground have raised the Waterhorses, and plan to use them to attack the races in your Lightworld.”

“Your Majesty,” Cedric said quickly, kneeling beside the throne. “I suggest we convene the council and meet in private, to avoid further panic.”

“Yes. That would be best.” The Queene nodded in agreement. “Have the herald dismiss the Courtiers. Malachi! Gather my council and have our meeting place prepared. Ambassador Bauchan, I will ask you to discuss this with no one save myself and my council.”

Elves of the Underground had done this? The image of the Faery’s horrible scars swam in Cerridwen’s mind. Certainly that was not true. She’d seen Elves. Fenrick was an Elf. He’d never have done something so horrible, would have never allied himself with monsters capable of such evil. Decisions were made on behalf of the Fae race every day, and not each Faery agreed with those decisions…surely, every Elf would not be held accountable for this horror?

The herald sounded the Queene’s dismissal of the Court, and the Courtiers, for once, were anxious to leave. Her mother turned to her, a mask of false reassurance over her face. “Go back to your rooms. This meeting will be long, and it will not amuse you.”

“I do not need to be amused, Mother,” Cerridwen protested, but before she could argue further, her mother’s mortal pet grasped her arm and steered her toward the doors.

“Your presence is not required at this meeting,” Malachi hissed through clenched teeth. “Go now, as your mother says.”

Things had moved so quickly, from annoyance at being made to stand beside her mother, to embarrassment at having to face Cedric, to fear at the thought of Fenrick and what would happen to him when her mother took some rash action against the whole of the Darkworld. Whatever plans her mother would make against the Elves of the Darkworld would be made tonight, in that room, and she had to be there. She would not be able to change her mother’s mind once the Ambassador poisoned her against the Elves, but she could arm herself with knowledge and warn Fenrick, save him. “I will do no such thing! I will stay!”

Malachi gripped her arm, as if meaning to pull her through the crowd. “You will do as you are told!”

The Courtiers, once eager to run to the safety of their homes to forget the horrors they had seen, now stopped, gleeful at the scene before them.

“Malachi!” It was Cedric, not the Queene, who took the situation into hand. He came down from the dais quickly, casting predatory glances to the Courtiers gathered around, causing them to shrink back. But only a little.

“That is enough,” he said, loud enough to be intimidating without shouting. “Go, do as Ayla bade you.”

Reluctantly, as if he had a right to challenge Cedric here, but was loathe to take it, Malachi stood down. He gave Cerridwen a last, angry look, and stalked away. Now Cedric would take her from the throne room. He probably sought to assert his rights as her betrothed, to show the Court that he would keep his mate under his control. The thought made her gag.

“Your mother does not wish you to come to this meeting,” he began, predictably. Then, quieter, he said, “I will come to you later and tell you what transpired, if that is your wish.”

The kindness of his gesture, the fact that he treated her, suddenly, as though she were not a petulant child to be ordered to bed, struck her dumb. She could only nod, mute, and watch as he walked away to join the others.

For a moment, she wondered if she should follow them, try again to argue with her mother. But she stopped herself. If she failed, perhaps Cedric wouldn’t keep his promise to her, and then she would have no way to warn Fenrick.

She went back to her room, shook off Governess and her attempts at conversation. She climbed into her bed, still dressed, and pulled the curtains closed around her. She inched her hand beneath the pillow, felt for Fenrick’s knife there, closed her fingers around it, and waited.

Six

“T he Waterhorses.” Cedric dropped the open book onto the table in front of Ayla. It was a Human book, written in Human hand, about the various monsters of the Astral. One of the books that helped cause the rift in the Veil, by sparking more Human interest in the world they were not meant to know.

“Where did you get this?” she asked, barely glancing at the text.

“It has been in our treasury for some time.” He tapped the page. “It is frighteningly accurate.”

Ayla could not read the words, but the illustration chilled her blood. The creature stood on two hoofed legs. Its torso was that of a well-muscled mortal warrior, rising up to a thick neck topped with an equine head. The lips were pulled back; rows of sharp teeth seemed to glitter on the stillness of the page.

“Notice the webbed fingers, with claws,” Cedric said, something akin to awe in his voice.

“And the teeth. They are the only creatures known to inflict damage such that even our healers cannot correct it.”

Ambassador Bauchan, who had, until now, sat in silence, his entourage assembled behind him, held up his hand. “We have brought proof enough of the damage they can cause. Let us not relive it.”

Ayla was glad for his interruption. The sight of the maimed Faery’s injuries had been enough proof, on that score Bauchan was correct.

“Queene Ayla is a young Faery,” Cedric said patiently. “She has not encountered these creatures, and I felt it important that she know exactly what we are dealing with.”

Though it made sense to Ayla, it would not do for Cedric to point out her ignorance to the Upworlders. She cleared her throat and fixed him with a warning gaze. “I appreciate your concern, Cedric. But I have ample understanding of the severity of this threat.”

Cedric nodded, and she continued, “Ambassador Bauchan…surely Queene Danae sent you here with a greater purpose than to merely warn us of the danger.”

Maddeningly, Bauchan feigned a look of astonishment. “My Queene would never presume to send orders to another who equaled her rank, Your Majesty.”

Ayla sighed. The day had begun so simply. No, not so simply. But better. And it seemed a lifetime had passed, and she felt every moment drive into her weary bones. “That is a shame. Perhaps she is not so wise and great as you claim. If she were, she would have sent you here with an offer of aid, or at least a suggestion as to how we could avoid this catastrophe.”

“Her Majesty does not wish to be involved in an Underground war. She proposes only that you and your Court come to the surface, and take shelter there.”

This was something she dreaded most of all. The reaction of the Court had been instant and panicked. This new Queene offered protection from what they feared most, something that Ayla could not give them.

At her side, Cedric restlessly tapped his fingers against the table. He wanted to respond to Bauchan, but he waited for the Queene’s approval. He would wait a long time. Ayla was not inclined to let another outburst stand, even if the one in the throne room had been to her benefit. She did not wish for Bauchan to see her as weak, or believe she was a puppet for her advisor.

“It is a generous offer. But I will need all of my Court here to defend our race during an attack.” She stated it as though it were something she did not expect him capable of considering.

He shifted uncomfortably on the stool he perched on. “You misunderstand. My Queene wishes for your entire race, from you, Your Majesty, to the lowliest Faery in the Lightworld, to join her on the surface. To unite, as it were, under one banner.”

“Unite? Against who should we unite? It was my understanding, as you have made it very clear thus far, that your faction holds no quarrel with Elves. She does not wish to war with the Elves aboveground or below…so what goal can she seek to achieve through our unity?” Ayla did not look away from Bauchan, did not flinch as he stared back at her. Finally, he spoke. “On the surface, our resources are limited. We are hunted by Enforcers and other bands of antimagic Humans. We do not live in such circumstances where raising and training an army would go unnoticed. We cannot provide the aid you require. That is why Queene Danae wishes you to bring your subjects to the surface.”

“And would we not also be hunted? Wouldn’t a higher concentration of our kind bring more attention to your presence there?” She tried for a kind smile, and feared it came across as hard and ruthless as she felt. “And what of the rest of the Lightworld? Should we abandon them against these creatures? The Dragons, the Trolls, who have always been our allies…what have they done to deserve such treachery?”

“On the surface, we could unite against the Humans. Reclaim what they took from us during the Last Great War.” Only now did Bauchan’s face show genuine animation. This was the real reason he had come. This was his Queene’s true proposal. Not one of aid, but one of fealty.

“And your great Queene Danae can ride into battle at the head of our unified race, and slay the demon Humans and save us all.” Ayla shook her head. “Do not think that I am stupid. And do not think that I turn down such a modest proposal out of mere pride. Why should I not wish to hand my subjects over to your Queene, to wash my hands of leading them?”

“It is not Her Majesty’s wish to—”

“Silence!” She stood, knocking aside the stool she’d sat upon. “You come here with tales of monsters, incite hysteria in my Court and ask me to bow to the wisdom of your Queene. You claim she sends her emissaries in good faith, to warn us of a danger far greater than we can manage on our own, and then you tell me that the only aid she will supply is at the cost of our lives in the Underground?