Elestrine

  I am in the midst of listening to the Viceroy of Everglacian Columbia complain about ambiguous treaty rights in his province when Audan’s second-in-command, Captain Olayth, barges into my throne room.

  He fires off a salute. “Apologies, your Excellency, but there’s an urgent matter that must be brought to your attention.”

  I am grateful for the distraction; I gesture for the Viceroy to leave and sit up in my throne. “You have my undivided attention.”

  “It concerns the disappearance of Lancer Balenn—one of the knights who disappeared last week along the river Ottawa.”

  “I remember. You have concluded your investigation?”

  He nods. “We conjured a fragmentary ghost from around where he was last seen. Your Excellency—he claims he was killed by an ore-spinner.”

  I raise an eyebrow. “The ore-spinners are long gone, Captain.”

  “Excellency, I only report what I was told. Balenn’s ghost recounts that, in his last minutes, he detained two Canadian women and a Fairy civilian—M?rkish, to judge by his accent. One of the women identified him as an ore-spinner, and that’s the last thing he remembers.”

  “No doubt some common mountebank trying to convince humans he can turn straw to gold,” I scoff. “They do so love their shiny objects.”

  “My instinct as well, Excellency,” Olayth replies. “But there were scorch marks consistent with an ore-spinner’s attack. And the trees confirm seeing a bright flash.”

  I consider this for a moment; I do not wish to believe him—and indeed I do not. But it would be unwise to disregard this intelligence outright.

  “Who else has heard this report?”

  “Only Duke Audan and myself, Excellency.”

  So Audan didn’t see fit to tell me himself. Interesting. I file this away for later consideration and rise to my feet. “Henceforth, all news of this incident is classified. No one is to speak of this supposed ore-spinner to anyone save myself and his Grace.”

  “Yes, Excellency.” Olayth nods.

  “You will lead a squadron to locate and execute this criminal. Your subordinates are to be kept on a need-to-know basis; warn them only that they may be facing some powerful ancient magics—something of that sort. Take the ghost with you to make a positive identification—and I believe we have a flamefed dragon in our stables; no doubt it will prove useful if your quarry truly is what he claims to be.”

  “I obey, Excellency,” replies Olayth. “But I would be remiss if I did not point out that the talents of an ore-spinner would give Everglace a decisive advantage against its rivals.”

  “Captain, the ore-spinners’ ‘talents’ laid waste to Faerie, and they may do the same to Earth if unleashed here,” I answer sternly. “I shall not allow our new home to fall prey to the same folly as the old. This putative ore-spinner must die; is that understood?”

  “Of course, Excellency. I shall get underway at once.”

  “Ah—one more thing, Captain?”

  He freezes on the threshold of the room. “Excellency?”

  I lower my voice. “Is there any particular reason why the Duke of Ottawa did not bring me this news himself?”

  “His Grace is in Newfoundland, Excellency,” Olayth replies crisply. “Personally decorating a lieutenant for meritorious service during the war, I believe.”

  “You ‘believe’?”

  “He did not take a messaging mirror with him, Excellency.”

  “I see. When will he return?”

  “Morning, two days hence, Excellency. Immediately before her Majesty’s arrival.”

  “Ah. Of course.”

  “Was there anything else, Excellency?”

  I pause, then decide that the direct approach is best. “What is Audan planning, Captain?”

  Olayth’s facial expression betrays him not at all. “Excellency?”

  “It does seem rather odd that he should render himself inaccessible immediately before arbitration of a dispute between us, does it not?”

  “I do not care to speculate upon the affairs of nobles, Excellency.”

  “A wise policy,” I concede, “but Audan scarcely counts as a noble, and I am giving you permission. In fact, I am ordering you.”

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  “In that case,” Olayth replies, still expressionless, “I suspect that his Grace is disgusted with the shameful way in which you have treated him and wants to see you as little as possible. Excellency.”

  I am silent for a moment, looking at him sharply. Then I break into a smile. “That will be all, Captain. You are not to breathe a word of this conversation to anyone. Dismissed.”

  He bows low, a bare hint of a satisfied smile on his thin lips, and quits the room.

  *

  “You summoned me, Excellency?”

  Awyrel stands at the threshold of my study in Rideau Hall, looking at me anxiously.

  “Oh, come here, you silly girl,” I beckon. “You needn’t loiter at the entrance like a footman! Let me see you!”

  Awyrel’s skirts swish as she makes her way to where I am sitting. Her gait is less happy than it should be—as if some matter were weighing down upon her.

  I run my fingers over the contours of her face, piercing her glamour with my eyes. “There is…something different about you…”

  “Excellency?”

  “Aha!” I cry with a snap of my fingers. “You’re blooded! You’ve killed now, haven’t you?”

  Awyrel flushes. “Is it noticeable, Excellency?”

  “Indeed! And if I may say so, it suits you. Indeed, were my cousin Oberon here, he would say that only now have you truly come alive—of course, he always was a dullard. I trust the issue with Meaghan Oakes has been resolved?”

  “She will not trouble us, Excellency,” Awyrel replies, her eyes downcast.

  I smile. “Then we are free to move on to others matters?”

  “Yes,” she intones. Her eyes wander to the window behind me, at the slushy morass that has become of my snow under the rays of the summer sun. “Excellency, concerning Mr. Oakes’s deception—”

  “Yes, it is quite impressive, is it not? I didn’t realize Charles had it in him.” I laugh somewhat forcedly. “He will fit in perfectly at Court.”

  “Then…he has consented to the transformation, Excellency?”

  “I regard it as inevitable. I have explained the stakes to him and he is—whatever his flaws—a reasonable man. Until then, I’m inclined to let his legend grow; allow the humans to enjoy their victory.”

  “With respect, Excellency,” she says cautiously, “are you certain you are not being overconfident? The human conscience—”

  “The human conscience,” I respond, “is a thing of fire. It is bright and hot and its flames lap forth unpredictably, and if you are unwary—as we have been—you may be burned. But it can also be harnessed; you have told me that, before the Shift, humans powered great machines with fire?”

  “Yes, Excellency.”

  “Remarkable! And just so have I harnessed Charles’s conscience; he will not let his people die.”

  Awyrel hesitates. “Yes, Excellency. But I must warn you that, when conscience and desire collide, the result can be dangerous; and that, just as humans ultimately imperilled their very existence with their fire-powered machines, so too may conscience imperil ours.”

  I laugh at the aptness of the metaphor. “Then it is well that I am soon to snuff it out! But let us speak no more of Charles—he will make his decision in due time, and there is nothing we can do to hurry him along. There are other matters to which we must attend in advance of my mother’s arrival—Duke Audan, for instance.”

  I take a seat in one of my study’s upholstered chairs and gesture for Awyrel to sit opposite me, which she does. “You are no longer confident that her Majesty will decide against him?” she asks.

  “I do not doubt the strength of my position,” I reply. “Once Charles comes around, it will be as strong as it has ever been. But Audan is a slippery fellow—stupid in many ways, but crafty. I have little doubt that he’s planning something to twist the odds in his favour.”

  “If I may make a recommendation, Excellency—have you considered interviewing him or his knights? You are their Commander-in-Chief, after all—they would be honour-bound to answer your queries.”

  “I had hoped you might suggest something more innovative,” I say with disappointment. “But I’m afraid that I’ve already made an attempt, without success. Audan has been clever enough to leave the city and his closest confidant knows nothing of value.”

  “Well,” Awyrel thinks aloud. “Might we infer his scheme? What do you suppose that Audan would select as his point of attack, were he to try to scuttle your plans?”

  “Charles,” I reply without hesitation. “He cannot murder him outright, given the laws and his position, but he has already had him arrested and attempted to bribe him into abandoning me—

  “Oh!” I exclaim. “You don’t suppose that he might have been the one to teach Charles glamour, do you? In hopes that he might use the technique to make himself more trouble than he’s worth? I should not put it past Audan to think in those terms—”

  “Excellency,” Awyrel interrupts. “My apologies for speaking out of turn, but—are you saying that Mr. Oakes employed glamour in his deception?”

  “Indeed! He dressed one document up as another and—actually, it occurs to me that this plan was clearly too complex to have been formulated by a ninny such as Audan—”

  Something at once seems to change inside Awyrel: “Excellency—”

  “Dear girl, I do love you, but you must stop interrupting your betters! Just imagine what would happen if you did so in my mother’s presence!”

  I see from Awyrel’s pained expression that the warning has had more than its desired impact. I take it upon myself soothe her. “Now then, my girl, what was it you wished to tell me?”

  Her mouth sets in a line, her eyes growing misty with tears. “Excellency,” she breathes, “it was I who taught Mr. Oakes the glamour.”

  I pause, my emotional state suddenly wiped clean by her admission. Her words hang between us like ugly décor. “You?”

  “I thought I was helping you!” she exclaims, tears rolling down her face. “He—he seemed conciliatory! He said he’d use it to please you—”

  “Have you any idea,” I demand, my tone sharper than I intend, “what you are saying?”

  “Please…” She gasps as I rise to my feet. “Please, your Excellency, you must believe me! He deceived me just as he did you! I would never betray you! You must believe—”

  “Awyrel, you must leave this city at once,” I say, turning away from her in sudden decision. “This country, if possible. Go to Oberon’s America. Or the Naiad Kingdom in the Atlantic. Or to Gloriana’s realm on Albion, if you so choose, but you must not remain here.”

  “Excellency, please give me the chance to make amends for my stupidity!” she begs, collapsing onto her knees.

  I gesture at the door. “I am ordering you, as Viceroy of this land, to leave!”

  “Do not banish me, Excellency.” Awyrel sobs. “Please! I could not live knowing I’ve earned your hatred!”

  “Do you think I order this out of hatred?” I exclaim, my own voice cracking now. I lay my hands upon her face, holding her against me. “Have I not proved my love for you, time and again? Oh, my darling girl, my mother will kill you should she have the barest suspicion that you harbour human sympathies! Don’t you see? I am ordering this out of love! She must not find you here!”

  Awyrel looks up at me with those foolish, beautiful eyes and nods once, comprehension dawning.

  “I shall send for you when you may return. But swear to me—swear—that you will quit this city immediately. Swear it!”

  “I swear,” she breathes. “Excellency, I promise that I will make amends—”

  “Go!”

  She hurries from the room, shutting the door behind her. Through my window, I watch as she makes her way over the thinning snow, paying me only a brief backwards glance.