A Tale of Two Kingdoms (22 page)

“Did I mention how much I missed you?” The tension in her brow cleared. She returned his smile and shook her head. He reached up and ran a hand over the scratch of his beard. “Give me ten minutes to clean up a bit?” She nodded.

While Song waited, she walked around and looked out the windows. They were open. No screens. No need. She could hear both birdsong and the gurgling sound of the little stream where a tiny waterfall broke near the cottage.

“Are you hungry? You look like you have no’ eaten for a while.”

“You sayin’ I’m too skinny for ye?” Duff looked blank. “Just kiddin’. Do no’ look so worried. I will no’ bite unless you ask me to.” She let her eyes drift down his frame. He looked good cleaned up, but definitely tired and definitely thinner. “When was the last time you had a repast worth notin’?”

“Same as you.” He smiled. “But my appetite could be returnin’.”

He held out his hand indicating that they would go to the kitchen and try out food summoning magic together. They stood in the tiny kitchen for some time. There were no appliances of any kind, just counter, sink, cutting board and cabinets with painted pottery that added to the feeling of warmth.

He raised her hand that he was holding to his lips and brushed his lips over her knuckles. “How do you think this works?”

“Great Paddy. ‘Tis a riddle. Should we just decide on a dish and say it aloud? Maybe?”

He stared into Song’s eyes as he said, “Beef Wellington.” Looking at each other they both saw something in peripheral vision, but they didn’t look away. They just started to laugh. Duff said, “One. Two. Three.”

On three they both turned toward the counter and indeed, a fine Beef Wellington sizzled on a bronzed platter surrounded by roast potatoes, sautéed asparagus, and steamed carrots. For convenience sake, a knife and meat fork were set next to the dish in invitation. It was an invitation that Duff accepted promptly. He sliced into the middle of the rolled cut, pulled it apart, and looked up at Song. “Just the way I like it.”

He cut off a one inch sliver and used his fingers to put it in his mouth. “Hmmm,” he said as he followed that with a small roasted new potato, then a spear of asparagus and a carrot. He was making yummy sounds of male satisfaction that only eating good food with fingers while standing in the kitchen can inspire. And it was making Song’s mouth water.

Duff held up a piece of meat, but Song shook her head as she said, “Lobster Thermidor.”

Without delay, a mouth-watering version of Lobster Thermidor appeared on a bed of green beans almondine. She shook her head and said, “No. Green peas on the side with…,” she glanced at Duff with mischief in her eye, “macaroni and cheese.” The plate disappeared and reappeared as ordered. “The steam risin’ is an extra nice touch, is it no’?”

She laughed, but wasted no time tearing a bit of lobster off with her own fingers. Of course they could have seated themselves at the little table with the charming distressed finish, but it had been a while since they’d wanted to eat and the return of appetite was joyful. They were happy to simply stand at the counter, eat with fingers, feed each other and giggle. The nearness of each other and the weight of food in stomachs had given them both such a feeling of well-being, that their apprehensions had begun to recede.

The phone rang. Or at least there was a ring that came from somewhere.

Duff looked at the plain black device. He could see Elora on the face. “Hello? Duff?”

“Elora. Can you see me?”

“No. Your image is blocked. Can you see me?”

“Aye. I see you.”

“Can you put the phone on speaker so both of you can hear me or see me or whatever?”

“Aye.”

“Okay. I understand you asked to talk to me?”

“We do no’ mean to be a bother, but there are many thin’s about this situation that are no’ explicable.”

“I’ll level with you. I’m not privy to every detail myself, but I will reassure you as much as I can. I wouldn’t put Song in a situation that was questionable. There is nothing that I wouldn’t trust Litha with. There’s nothing I haven’t trusted her with. And, if she trusts Kellareal, then you’re as safe as safe can be.

“Song, I think, under the circumstances, you should compromise your vow to The Order – to the extent that you are now affected, and tell Duff what you know about Litha and about how our world is comprised of a lot of different realities, one of which you’re questioning right now.”

“Oh, aye, I do think that would be helpful,” Song replied. “Will we be talkin’ to you again, do you think?”

“Probably not until this is over. Ram is on his way to see your family right now. They’ve discovered that you’re not there and they’ve received word that you’ve been granted sanctuary by a benefactor who chooses to remain anonymous so that there is no chance that your location may be leaked. Of course, they wonder about the escape, but that will just have to be an unsolved mystery. Like that train heist.”

Elora thought she heard a sniffle. “Ram’s goin’ to help us?”

“Yes, Song. And, you were right about him not staying mad if I told him why I did it.”

“You sound surprised.”

“I do not.”

“Just kiddin’. Thank you. Again. And tell him I love him.”

The three said goodbye. Duff set the device down on the table. “So what is it she’s thinkin’ you’ll be tellin’ me?”

The Scotia monarchy were aware of The Order’s activities up to a point. It was necessary partly because of the location of headquarters in Edinburgh and partly because Edinburgh was a city that had been plagued by vampire since before the plagues. The scope of activities reached further than their fae hosts could have guessed and that scope seemed to be growing exponentially.

Song glanced at Duff then said, “White wine,” to the ceiling.

Duff’s gaze followed Song as she picked up the gold liquid and drank deep. “Will I be needin’ scotch whiskey?”

CHAPTER 12

Tepring Hawking had lingered in her quarters extra long, but she was old enough to know that staying in bed wasn’t going to solve anything. Her face was so swollen from crying that she had cancelled her appointments indefinitely. She sat at her desk in a belted silk dress and stared out the window at the sheep grazing on the terraced meadows just beyond the gardens. There was a quiet knock at the door.

She supposed it was Rammel and she hoped it was. He was due to arrive early afternoon. She couldn’t think of a single other person she would rather see, except for Song, of course.

Thinking that caused the tears to start all over. She reached up to staunch the flow, but made no effort to curb her emotions. After decades as mistress of the palace, first as the king’s wife and then as the king’s mother, of keeping a tight rein on feelings, she had earned the right to cry about a heartbreaking event. And even the dimmest member of staff could tell that it would be highly inadvisable to suggest otherwise.

“Aye. Come in then.”

“Madam, a phone call for you.”

“I told you no calls today.”

“This one says she will no’ take no for an answer.”

“Well, for Paddy’s sake, Loftis. Who is it then?”

“Lorna Torquil, ma’am.”

Tepring froze. “Put her through.”

The queen’s secretary withdrew and closed the door. Tepring listened for the catch. The old doors were solid and well-built. If the latch caught properly, she could be reasonably assured of privacy for a conversation, barring spy equipment. For office use, she was still using an old-fashioned multiline, land phone. Aelsblood insisted the wireless technology not be used for official communications because he didn’t believe it was secure enough.

“Your Highness.”

“Your Grace.”

“Is she well?”

There was a slight pause before the Scotia queen answered. “Aelsong? Do you no’ know?”

“Is she with you?”

“No. I was callin’ for your reassurance that my son is well. He disappeared and then we received a message that the two of them have been given sanctuary and that we will no’ be seein’ him again unless we reach an accord with elves that includes open sanction of the marriage.”

Tepring sighed. “Aye, sounds exactly like the missive that was delivered to my son, the king. He was certain it was some fae trickery.”

“Aye. My husband thought the same only the phrase was Irish hijinks. May I ask you, if you hear anythin’ more, will you be callin’? I give you my promise it will go no further. ‘Tis for my peace of mind alone.”

“’
Tis your only child, aye?”

“He is. And she’s your only girl.”

“An agreement then? Whatever is learned is shared?”

“Done.”

Both of the royal households were thrown into a state of turmoil when they received a letter stating that they would not see their children again unless they managed to secure the peace for both peoples for now and the future. Initially both kings rejected the leveraged suggestion that talks should commence.

However, after considerable grousing and grumbling, ranting and raving, the fae king had agreed to a meeting. That was in large part due to the efforts of the fae queen, who had used every manner of pressure available to her to persuade him to make peace with the elves, including threats of suicide, and in smaller part due to the ruler’s feelings about his son personally and about what it would mean to leave Scotia without an heir.

A peace talks meeting was arranged at a neutral site in London by the anonymous party and a mediator was appointed - a supposedly well-respected woman named Arles Logature, who was Etana disguised as human.

Every staff member who was in the east part of the palace at Derry heard Ram come through the side door by the topiaries and shout, “Honey! I’m home!” And each one who had been employed by the household when Ram was a sometimes resident turned to another and smiled, thinking he would be a welcome relief to the pall that had fallen not only over the household, but to some extent, over the entire country.

Ethelred’s two Irish wolfhounds, whose hearing could detect sounds originating in the palace from great distance, attempted to knock over two people and one statue on their wild and heedless mission to capture a greeting. He had made it as far as the grand central staircase when the dogs caught up to him. He had never so much appreciated Elora’s insistence that big dogs need to be taught good manners than when the two giant hounds knocked him off his feet. They licked and sniffed wherever Blackie had touched and wiggled their enormous bodies like they were puppies.

Just as Ram was getting them calmed down he heard footsteps on the marble tile.

“You should no’ play with the dogs on the floor, Rammel. ‘Tis a bad habit.”

“Aye, Da. ‘Tis good to see you as well. And where would the queen mum be keepin’ herself on this fine chill overcast and thoroughly Irish day?”

Ethelred looked toward the staircase. “She’s been stayin’ close to her rooms. Does no’ like to be seen lookin’ red and puffy. Still vain, you know?”

“Should I take some tea?”

Ram’s father shook his head. “No. She’d rather be seein’ you sooner than later.”

Rammel began to climb the stairs, but looked back as he did. His father’s semi-cordial tone was a little discomfiting. People grow into a rhythm of expectation, particularly in the area of family relations. Having someone step out of their role disrupts that rhythm and creates confusion.

Tepring had not moved from her chair after her conversation with the fae queen. There was a soft knock on the door.

“What is it now, Loftis?”

“’
Tis no’ Loftis. ‘Tis Ram.”

She swung around in her chair, took one look at him, and burst into a fresh session of tears. After getting a big hug, Ram rekindled the fire and gently coaxed his mum to sit in one of the two overstuffed chairs in front of the fire.

“I’m askin’ for tea, Mum. Is there somethin’ in particular you’d like or will you have your usual?”

“Whiskey and arsenic.”

“Mum,” Ram chuckled. “You should no’ even joke about such thin’s.”