“You are right, of course, Lord Mossgrow, but never before have we been privy to the whims and weaknesses of a half-mortal queen,” muttered his companion, a beautiful young Aos Sith with golden skin and silvery hair. With a start, I recognized him: the young lord who had asked me to dance the night before. “So emotional and high-strung these mayflies are. It is beneath us all to be subject to their frailties and folly.”
Nervous laughter went up among the Aos Sith. Some of them looked as shocked as I felt to hear such indiscretion in the presence of the queen. Though they did not acknowledge me, either, which seemed rather rude.
My “frailty and folly” did not seem to bother you at the Coronation Ball.I scowled fiercely, thought to clear my throat, but something stopped me. I wanted to hear what else he had to say.
“Lord Elidor, be kind,” Lord Mossgrow said, nervously twisting his snowy mustache. “Or if not, at least be wise. The walls may have ears.”
Lord Elidor lifted a single brow. “What now? Is the half-mortal ‘queen’ weak enough that the very enchantment around this place begins to fail?”
She is not so weak,I thought irritably.But she is standing right here.How odd it was none of them appeared to notice me at all.
The elder fae looked alarmed. “Surely not. But it is risky to assume all the Aos Sith here share your views.”
Elidor laughed, melodious yet sharp as broken glass. “All right then. Who among us is weak enough to accept the rule of a mortal harper’s get, this demi-fae bug?”
Mortal harper? Is that who they believe my father was? Did my mother play the Leannan Sith, drawn to mortals of artistic or musical bent, so she could feed off their skill?
Uncomfortable murmuring rose up among the gathered Sith, things like, “Now you don’t know it was the harper sired Una’s whelp.” “I heard it was a rhymer.” “That’s the same thing, you dolt.”
I gawped at the audacity of it all. Either the gathered Aos Sith were ruder than I even suspected them of being, or there was something more mysterious going on...
There came a knock at the door.
Silence fell, heavy as a portcullis. The Aos Sith looked around at each other in alarm.
“You’ve done it now,” one of them said. “Her Majesty has arrived!”
I... have been here?My head grew dizzy with confusion. Why were they unaware of my presence?
When the door opened, in came Lileas, buttery hair trailing behind her like a pennant. Lileas stared at me, or rather through me, holding her hands before her and feeling her way, until she grabbed my shoulders. “Forgive me, Your Majesty, but it appears that cloak was meant to be worn the other way around after all.”
As she removed my cloak, a gasp went up through the room, and that peculiar belly-flipping sensation inside me vanished.
To turn a garment inside out is to become invisible to the eyes of the fae. I smiled in gratitude towards Lileas as she draped the cloak again about my shoulders, rested my head very briefly against her hand.
“Your Majesty!” Lord Mossgrow was the first to drop to his knees in a deep bow. “Forgive us. We did not know we were in your presence.”
It would not save him. Forgiveness is a human trait, and I was told I must give those up.
“Obviously.” I walked past the Aos Sith, who touched their foreheads—a sign of humility—then their hearts—a sign of loyalty. “I do hope this unsavory speculation over my parentage is at last at an end?”
“Yes, my liege.” “Of course, Your Majesty.” As if that would save them.
I ignored their false obeisance and instead greeted the other assembled would-be council folk in turn.
They were a peculiar lot, some of them. An old hag sneered at me with long green fangs—Jenny Greenteeth, as her name was later given to me. A goat-legged glaistig stared, and a fachan, with but one eye and one leg, his hand protruding from the center of his torso. He had no arms, but I gave my hand, and he kissed it. His greeting left a slimy trail of mucus behind. I hid my disgust and dismay.
They are my people as well. The privilege of my favor willnotbe restricted to the pretty and highborn.From the corner of my eye, I perceived Lord Elidor and his partisans gaping like fish.
Having made my gauntlet, at last I took my seat. “Good morning, gentles,” I said. Murmurs of greeting passed around the table, from the fachan’s grunts to the grumbles of the Aos Sith. Jenny Greenteeth drooled alarming pink spit into her cup. I had to assume among her kind—if she had a kind—this was considered polite.
“Good morning, Your Majesty,” Lord Elidor said, with a bow so deep it became obnoxious. “I trust you slept well after last night’s revels—if revels they can be called, without the Dark Fool there to lead them.”
“Lord Elidor,” Mossgrow whispered, then shook his head emphatically.
Elidor at least does not try to hide his mutinous thoughts.Almost I admired him for this.
He smirked and raised his eyebrows. “It is not like the Fool to ignore his ruler’s wishes so thoroughly. One might almost think he doubted your abilities, or perhaps your birth.” His eyes glinted with such hatred as I had never seen before as he hissed out, “Duplicitous whore.”
