Foxglove’s attention moves to me. “You may wait here as well, if you like. I could speak with him first and glean more information before involving you.”
There’s no way I’ll let this situation unfold without being front and center. I want every piece of information I can possibly get handed directly to me. Forcing confidence, I lift my chin. “I’m coming.”
With a sigh, Foxglove exits the carriage and extends his hand to help me out. The mayor’s house looms on the other side of the carriage, an elegant manor framed with neat hedges and a manicured lawn. This is my first time seeing Mayor Coleman’s house, although I’ve walked by his drive many times growing up. Back when my sister was friends with Maddie Coleman, we often walked with her here, leaving her at the top of the drive for visits with her uncle.
Of course, thoughts of Maddie Coleman only fill me with contempt, but at least it feels better than fear.
Foxglove and I approach the front door, where a smug doorman greets us. After a brief statement of our business from Foxglove, the doorman leads us inside the manor and into a parlor. It’s clear he means to take us swiftly through to the door at the other side, but I find my feet rooted as a familiar face snags my attention.
Maddie Coleman sits on the couch in the middle of the parlor next to her younger sister, Marie. Overstuffed bags and luggage litter the ground at their feet. With a haughty grin, Maddie looks up from her needlework and meets my eyes, blonde curls bouncing with the movement. She assesses me from head to toe, although she doesn’t seem surprised to see me. Her gaze moves to Foxglove. “Have you come to take me to my new husband?”
A violent heat floods me, boiling my blood as I fight the urge to lash out at her. Even my hands are hot, as if each palm holds a flame.
Foxglove inspects the girls on the couch, nose wrinkled in distaste. Without so much as a word, he turns up his chin and meets the doorman at the other side of the parlor. I burn Maddie with a scowl before joining him, but she doesn’t so much as flinch. Marie, on the other hand, goes a shade paler, mouth hanging open as if she wishes to speak.
I’m shaking with suppressed rage as we move down the hall; I only begin to sober once we stop at the end of the corridor. The doorman knocks on a door, then opens it.
Inside the room, Mayor Coleman sits at a desk with two armed guards standing on each side. It never occurred to me that the mayor employed guards, but I suppose the extra protection is a comfort when meeting with the fae, even if it’s with a peaceful ambassador.
The mayor is a well-dressed man, but he looks nothing like his slim, blonde niece. He has a heavy-set build, a bushy mustache that hides his upper lip, and shrewd eyes beneath thick, caterpillar-like brows. He wears a brown jacket and waistcoat over a white shirt and cravat.
He lifts his eyes from his desk as we enter, his gaze flicking toward Foxglove before resting on me. “Miss Fairfield,” he says with a reserved smile. “I wasn’t expecting you, but I must admit, this makes things much easier for us all.” He motions to one of the guards to lean forward, and the mayor whispers an order too soft for me to hear. Then the guard crosses the room. Toward me.
I flinch, hands flying to my thigh, my hip, but the automatic response to danger is fruitless; my iron dagger was lost when Cobalt captured me, and I’ve yet to replace it. A moment too late, I realize my reaction was unfounded. The guard isn’t coming for me. Instead, he skirts behind Foxglove and rushes out the door.
Heat floods my cheeks in embarrassment as I release a breath and return my attention to the mayor.
Mayor Coleman eyes me through slitted lids and motions for Foxglove and me to sit. “Your king has made his decision regarding the correspondence the council sent, I presume?”
“King Aspen has considered the contents of the letter, yes,” Foxglove says. I’m surprised how collected he is. I’ve gotten used to his often-anxious ways when dealing with unfortunate circumstances—wringing his hands, nervously adjusting his spectacles—that I nearly forgot how calm and regal he can be. This is how I first saw him, posture erect, voice high and snobbish, expression smug.
“I take it he wasn’t pleased.”
“That’s an understatement, Mayor Coleman. I can’t say Miss Fairfield and I are pleased either, and we have many questions.”
The mayor leans back in his chair. “I will answer what I can, but I assure you, nothing will alter the conclusions we’ve reached or the final olive branch we’ve extended.”
I grip the arms of the chair to channel my rage, my anxiety. It’s all I can do not to shout my questions at him, but I know it’s best if Foxglove takes the lead. For now.
“The first issue we seek clarity on is the accusation over Miss Fairfield’s heritage,” Foxglove says. “The letter stated she has been deemed ineligible to secure the treaty due to being of fae blood. The king’s mate has assured us she knows nothing about such a possibility. Will you explain what gave your council this outrageous idea?”
The mayor purses his lips, pulling them both beneath the cliff of his mustache. “We have evidence that Evelyn and Amelie Fairfield are of fae blood and that their mother, Maven Fairfield, knew this and withheld the truth even after they were selected as Chosen. She deliberately put the treaty in danger with her omission.”
I can keep quiet no longer, my body trembling from head to toe. “What evidence do you have?”
The mayor slides his gaze to me, and a flash of hatred crosses his face. “The proof we have is not up for debate and will be more thoroughly discussed at your mother’s trial.”
“My mother’s trial,” I echo. “When will that be?”
“It will be held in two weeks’ time, when Eisleigh’s council gathers at the Spire.”
The Spire. That’s the name for the prison in Grenneith, the capital city of Eisleigh. Only the most serious crimes in Eisleigh are tried at the Spire. The only thing worse would be if her trial were being held at Fort Merren on the mainland, involving the entire kingdom of Bretton as well as the king. At least her accusation of treason is being considered a territorial threat and not a national one. The thought doesn’t give me much comfort.
The mayor continues. “Even though the proof we have is irrefutable, we are giving your mother a fair trial as well as allowing you and your sister plenty of time to get your affairs in order beforehand. Your presence today tells me it won’t be as difficult as we’d thought to get you to comply.”
“I’m here to prove my mother’s innocence. My sister and I aren’t fae.”
“If there is innocence to prove, you may present it at Maven Fairfield’s trial, as both you and your sister will be required to attend.”
