Queen Mor grins, revealing a row of perfect teeth, her canines sharper than any I’ve ever seen. “Tell me, Miss Benton, what have you come to ask for?”
Chapter Eight
I’ve pictured this moment for months. I’ve written down what I plan to ask for over and over, fed the paper to the fire until I was sure I would make no mistakes.
“Your Majesty.” My voice is high and sweet, just like I practiced. I hunch my shoulders in an attempt to make myself as small as possible. So small, a nothing person, absolutely no one. “I wish to undo the bargain you made with my sister, Lady Lydia Benton, on Saturday, the first of May, eighteen forty-six. Whatever you gave her, let it be returned, and whatever she gave you, may it be given back to her, wholly and unaltered.”
I take a breath as I finish, relieved to have gotten it right.
The queen presses her lips together as she watches me through narrowed eyes. “Are you finished?”
“Yes, ma’am.” I bow my head reverently, desperate to impress her.
The queen laughs until it echoes off the walls of the throne room. “You cannot undo another’s bargain.”
“Your Majesty, I wish for nothing more than to undo the bargain of my most beloved sister. She can’t remember what she bargained for, you see, and I want to end her distress. I’m sure you understand.”
She peers down at me from the dais. “You may wish for whatever you please, but you will be disappointed.”
“Will you tell me, at least, what her bargain was? Can you do me that one kindness?”
“The bargains are made in confidence.”
“Are the bargains always undoable?” I ask, perhaps too boldly.
The throne room dims as a cloud passes over the sun outside. The queen’s eyes flicker to a stained glass window and then back to me. “There is much about magic you will never understand.”
“I cannot imagine you’d wish to see a subject as loyal and dedicated as Lydia so pained.” I may have gone too far with that one. I need to be sweet, to be good, that’s the only way any of this will work.
The queen arches a brow. “Your sister made the bargain of her own free will while sound of mind.”
There’s only one more question, the one that plagued me like the wind on that February night, and she’s the only one who can answer it.
“Was she there? In the Otherworld?”
The queen lets out a long breath. “No. That door has been locked for four hundred years.”
Something like sadness flashes in her dark eyes.
It’s drafty in the throne room, but that’s not why my heart feels like ice. Faeries can’t lie. It’s something I loved most about the stories when I was little, but I hate it now, hate it because I know she’s telling the truth, and I don’t want to accept it. If Lydia wasn’t in the Otherworld, that means the police were right. She really was just another runaway who didn’t care enough about me not to leave me behind.
“What about Prince Bram?” I ask somewhat desperately.
She shakes her head. “A special case. Doors are funny. Sometimes they only open one way.”
It’s more information than I thought she’d give, but it doesn’t make it any easier to accept.
Queen Mor looks down at me from her throne, her back to its stony mask. “What are you most afraid of, Ivy Benton?”
I think for a moment, then answer truthfully. “Failing my family.”
Queen Mor leans back and takes a breath. “I could help you.”
But she can’t. Not really. Not when what I want is revenge and she is the one to blame for Lydia’s ruin.
“You could have more land for your father’s failing estate, a particular mind for bookkeeping, the ability to play piano so beautifully it would calm the nerves of anyone listening. You need only pay the right price.”
“No thank you.”
