Antenor stepped forward and bowed deeply. “My lady. How are you handling your new gift?”
“Just fine, thank you very much,” I muttered. “How goes your investigation?”
“I am working with Simeon’s network to root out the culprit, but little progress can be made without direct access to the human royal family.” I had chosen not to share much information about Will with Antenor or Oberon, out of concern for his safety. All they knew was that I had a trustworthy contact who could administer the antidote once it was found, and that was all they needed to know. “I do have my own theories, however,” Antenor continued. “Has there been any progress in finding an antidote?”
“No.” Oberon shook his head. “This particular plant was difficult to find even before the Rot, however, so it does not surprise me.”
“Or perhaps Puck has no interest in finding it,” Antenor suggested with a half-smirk that boiled my blood.
“Or perhaps you shouldn’t speak of things you do not know,” I growled.
Antenor turned his smirk to Oberon, then looked back at me. “I wonder, Marina, if you had considered the possibility that your precious pet is the one responsible for the Archer’s Cup making its way into Nottingham. My information says that the girl affected by it is currently betrothed to a…veryclose friend of yours.”
“What are you implying, Antenor?” asked Oberon sharply.
“Only that your creature is obsessed, and might have been trying to drive a wedge between Marina and her—”
“No! That is not what happened. Will and I…there was already a wedge between us. Leave him out of this, and leave Devil out of it too. He will find the antidote, I’m sure of it.”
“Your predilection for broken things is charming, cousin,” Antenor sneered, “but your ‘Devil’ has a history of being disobedient and outof control.”
“Peace, Captain,” Oberon interjected, holding up a hand. “Your dislike for Puck is no secret, but unless you have evidence to support your theory, I will not hear it at the moment. Marina, I understand that you would like to be involved, but I do not want to place you at risk. The less you know, the better. Antenor, I will take your report in private.” I folded my arms as the two men walked to the other side of the grove, ready with a sharp retort that I ultimately decided to hold back.
My nerves were on fire at Antenor’s sudden insight into my personal life, and now at the prospect of speaking to Titania. I did not even know what I might say to her, but it had been eating away at me since I’d arrived in the Arden—my own grandmother wanting nothing to do with me. I understood grief. Perhaps not in the same way, but I had wrestled with it too. It was a constant companion of mine, particularly now that I knew exactly what kind of life had been taken from me. I hoped, and dared to pray, that Titania would see it too, that if we could not be a family, she might at least agree to help me with the Rot. Even if nothing came of our meeting, there was still a fire in my belly that needed to either be quenched or fanned, and I would see it done.
With Oberon’s permission, Antenor left the rowan grove with a message to Hippolyta on my behalf. We walked slowly back to the Bower, where Sir Toby was snoring loudly in a hammock of moss between the pine tree’s roots. He lifted one head and eyed us carefully, then gave a mighty, triple yawn and pulled himself to his feet.
“Are you hungry?” Oberon asked me.
I nodded and put my hand on the tree trunk to call up my own private door. Oberon, who abhorred climbing stairs, just let out his mighty wings in a swirl of shadow. As I sunk my own magyk into the bark, he leapt into the air and circled the tree several times on his way up to the library balcony.
“Show-off,” I muttered.
My puny door appeared and, like a human peasant, I climbed the stairs with Sir Toby. By the time I reached the library, I was far past exhausted. Thankfully, Ceres had already brought up our meal. There was a tureen filled with thick rabbit and barley stew, featuring chunks of soft parsnip and pearl onions, with a steaming-hot loaf of rosemary-encrusted brown bread. Beside the stew sat a platter of roasted figs, stuffed with soft cheese, sprinkled in cardamom, and honey-drizzled.
My stomach was ready to tear itself apart, so I took a wooden bowl from the tray and sat across from Oberon, who had waited on me before eating. After a few bites of bread dipped in the stew’s hearty broth, I looked up at him and asked one of the thousand questions running incessantly through my head.
“Why do you hide your wings all the time?”
He sat back in his chair and considered me thoughtfully for a moment. “They are quite cumbersome when living in such a relatively small space.”
I took another bite of stew-soaked bread, then observed, “Antenor never hides his. He always has them out on display, along with his horns. You hide those too, even though I can’t imagine they’re terribly inconvenient.”
“Is there something you’re getting at, Marina?” asked Oberon gently.
I shrugged. “I suppose I’m just curious. If I had wings or horns or a tail or something like that…I don’t think I’d ever hide them.”
“Antenor has no reason to hide his natural features. He is quite proud of them, and of course, the young ladies of the Arden find them rather…exotic and charming.”
“Oh, I’m sure they do.”
“Besides,” Oberon continued, his tone heavier, “I have lived here for so long, many folk have forgotten where I came from. The wings and horns, to some, are…an unpleasant reminder that I was not born into this world, particularly now that Titania has effectively abdicated her role as queen. In spite of our closeness, there is some tension between the Arden and Pallasian Courts. Cultural differences, if you will.”
Silence settled over the table again as we both continued eating. I finished off my stew quickly and was just reaching for one of the figs when a shadow darkened the window. It was Hippolyta, looking dower. Oberon quickly shifted the magyk barrier and I met her in the center of the library before she could even tuck in her great, golden eagle wings.
“I suppose Antenor already gave you my message? Thank you for coming so quickly.”
“I was surprised, to say the least,” the commander replied, resting a hand on the pommel of her sword.
