Mossgrow dropped his gaze to the ground, wringing his hands before him, like a groveling peasant, not a very lord of the Sith. “Your mercy is most generous, Your Majesty. I have been a coward. I did not speak up to silence the churl but let his childish and treasonous utterings continue unchecked. Never again shall I grace you with my presence. I shall give up my wife, my title, and my home, hide myself far away in the most remote reaches of the land, and consider myself lucky you do not turn me into a toad.”
Almost I wanted to console him, tell him he need not lose his wife, at least, if she were willing to go. But I was a new queen and must show my strength before my people. I did not need Amadan here to tell me that.
Mossgrow was not finished. “Know this, Your Majesty. I may have disagreed with Queen Una, and her allowing a mortal to father her child was certainly nothing I advised. But I served your mother to the best of my ability, to the end of her life.”
“Go then. Never cross my path again.” And I gestured to the guards to escort him out.
Amadan would not have approved of my mercy, but I was not thinking of him then. My mind was still upon the dangerous foxglove, and what it meant. After all, I was no longer the only one in the palace with mortal blood.
From that point, I dared not leave Jamie alone for an instant.
Forty-One
The year turned, and soonBeltane was upon us, festivities I would preside over with Amadan the Master of my Revels. I could almost let myself relax. Enjoy how the wood nymph pampered and petted me, how Lileas combed my hair. I passed my hands over my gown, pale-green spider silk gathered at the shoulder and tied with a girdle of ivy. My branched crown bloomed with flowers; I looked like a goddess of old.
If only I could forget Mossgrow and that damned foxglove.
Foxglove is a fairy weed. Would Elidor think of it as a poison? If not, what did he intend to do with it instead?I could think of no answer to that.
Nor had I time to devote to it, for there was a knock at the door of my bedchamber.
“Oh, my little man is ready to escort me to the feast!” And I opened the door with a wide smile upon my face.
Only to find the sight that greeted me was not Jamie but Amadan himself.
Flowering vines crisscrossed the front of his tunic, which was deep green as forest shadows; his shapely legs wore hose of lighter green. The tips of his ebon hair were brilliant green tonight, bright enough to outshine his eyes. Everything about his appearance called to mind the day I confronted him in Carterhaugh and turned his autumnal attire to the garb of spring. This was deliberate, I was certain.
Amadan held out his arm, raising his brow in a quizzical fashion.
I responded to neither. “Where is Jamie? What have you done to him?”
Amadan patted his chest, his expression one of mocking alarm. “Why, I have done nothing to him. I believe he is with the little goat boy and the other children, playing.”
“I had thought to make him my escort.”
“I hoped I might do the honors.”
I narrowed my eyes at him.
“At Beltane, our merrymaking does ensure the fertility of the lands both sides of the Veil,” Amadan said. “And so, there is a little something I, as your Fool, have prepared.” He swept down low, voluminous sleeves dipping in a grandiose fashion, then gazed up at me through dark, curling lashes. “Allow me to show you such revels as you have never seen.”
I thought back to the Beltane celebrations I had witnessed on the other side of the Veil: the rolling of our bannocks down the hillside, driving the cattle between the bonfires and leaping over them to improve one’s luck. How the young people clustered, bodies mingling beneath their plaids with great license and vigor.
“Fine words,” I said with a laugh. “Let us see whether you can deliver.” Because I needed the feasting, and the dancing, the drinking and whatever should come after. These might at last drive the shepherd king from my mind.
I had publicly castigated Amadan for his absence at my coronation feast. I could not ignore him when he was actually doing his job. With a deep sigh and a slight eye roll, at last I took his arm.
He led me beneath shady oak trees and ash, beside silver rivers and brooks babbling in words I nearly understood. My senses filled, and my body appeared to extend outward, pulling wonder from the air. I recommitted myself to Faery and She embraced me; tingling radiance shot like sparks across my skin.
“You seem at ease tonight, Your Majesty,” Amadan said casually. “I am glad.”
I smiled up at him, eyes heavy with sleepy pleasure.Oh, let us play at being friends then. Forget what animosity has been between us. Forget that I still do not trust you.One might as easily ask a bluebell to blossom green, or a redcap not to stain his hat with blood, as to require Amadan to leave off his games and trickery.
That had no bearing on our relationship now.
“Faery is beautiful in the springtime.” In Faery, it would be ever spring, if I wanted it to be. Until She became a desert, nay, not even that, but barren rock, with naught to creep or bloom or flourish on Her terrain. Until She starved and suffered, and at long last became no more.
Blood is easily come by. But Faery starves for want of souls.I shook away the memory of Amadan’s words. These thoughts were too dark for a time like this. I had a handsome fae beside me, I was young and full of life—and the years of man would never stain me. I was Faery’s queen, it was Beltane, and I felt as a girl at her first maying, ready to drink and feast and yes, make love, if so my spirit inclined.
