All's Fair (Fair Folk Chronicles Book 4) (20 page)

Chapter 39: Blank Pages

Cassia joined them once Kerr did show up. Brownie timing, apparently, was relevant to Megan’s actually being ready after other conversations, as opposed to when Megan thought she'd be ready.

The brownie guided them to a dining hall, where Tiernan and the Gray Lady, along with one of Tiernan's soldiers and three will o' wisps, were waiting for them. The group bowed to the Queen, with even Tiernan showing full proper respect to Megan during her season.

"Majesty, I wasn't expecting you," Megan said to Tiernan.

"I was speaking to the Lady when Your Majesty's friend found us. She has a great deal of insight. In any case, I thought I'd stick around so we can discuss how we want to approach things next. But of course, please talk to the Lady first. I can step outside if you wish?"

Megan shook her head. "I don't have your knack for secrets or her even better knack for it. And sure, we can talk in a moment." She looked to the Gray Lady. “Sorcha okay?”

A nod. "She is with the healers. Something I can help Your Majesty with?" the wisp said.

"I was kind of hoping you might take your old job back. My Dad trusted you as his seneschal through a lot. But I know you have to take care of your daughter and all now too.

"Sorcha isn't the only one. Some of these people haven't been part of our society for 2000 years. They're going to need a lot of help," came the Gray Lady's voice from the wisp.

Tiernan said, "I know something about building from scratch—and about being old-fashioned, some would say. I may be able to help. Giving people lives back seems suitable penance for a king who cost so many theirs."

Megan looked between them, then nodded. "Seems fair, if you're all right with that?"

The Gray Lady nodded, and the wisp spoke again. "With help on that matter from His Majesty, I accept."

Megan nodded, turning more fully to Tiernan, as the Gray Lady, with her head held a little higher than normal, Megan thought, moved into position to her left.

“Great. So, plenty of meetings before I go home for Christmas tonight.”

Tiernan nodded. “With foreigners who aren't sure if they can talk to me.”

“Yeah, I think it has something to do with the history of insular xenophobia thing.”

"Regarding Inwar, was I wrong?" Tiernan asked, regaining some of his old smugness.

“You weren't wrong, Tiernan," Cassia said. "You were just an a—"

Megan quickly interrupted her. "Actually, you
were
wrong. Was Inwar a problem? Yes. Was this fact influenced by his culture? Yes. Is the answer to this to have sidhe run everything....? Well, I've got more questions to answer that one. Did two of your best men, pure-blooded Seelie sidhe, switch sides while investigating him? Do you think that, say, a menehune would have been more likely to fall for the Glorious Cause, or less?”

The Seelie King, in his stained, torn silk, was silent, with a pained look in his eyes. Megan certainly didn’t want to undo all his progress, but the point was important.

“Whatever-hundred is a perfectly good age to grow up, Tiernan,” she said quietly. “So I'm glad that you're going to be good with working with a wide variety of people. And yes, this even extends to still having to tolerate the Norse. We're going to stay in contact. Don't get me wrong: you can help me play good monarch / bad monarch all you want. The fact that the ' bad' one will be in silk and the 'good' one will be in briars will just make everything all the more fitting."

Tiernan looked at the Queen, let his eyes wander over her entourage, then nodded. "As Your Majesty says.”

Once they'd moved to the Ballroom, and Megan had taken up her position on the damaged throne, Justin accompanied the first delegation in to see her—the engineers. They had a representative or two from each of the primary work groups, with Mr. Kahale at the head of everyone.

Before she started business, Justin walked up onto the dais, taking his place beside her. It was only then that she noticed that there was nothing at his belt where she'd gotten used to seeing the Claiomh Solais.

“I...woke up with a tattoo,” Justin said, as if that explained anything.

“Well, that certainly tells you what kind of party this has been,” Cassia said.

Justin rolled his eyes as he rolled up his sleeve. On his shoulder was a stark white tattoo of a flame.

“Reminds me a little of the flames on the Sword. Where is the Sword?” Megan asked.

“Gone. Couldn't find it anywhere,” Justin said.

“Do we have a new problem?”

“I'm sure we have plenty of new problems, Majesty, but this isn't one. Something feels right. It isn't needed anymore.”

“Do you...want to quit knighting?”

“I didn't say that!”

“Would Her Majesty be interested in getting Sir Justin a new sword?” came a gruff baritone voice from one of the dwarves standing nearby.

“And what kind of invoice are we looking at if we say yes?” Megan asked.

“Not an issue. Very, very happy to do it for you. Peace is good for business.”

Once a matter of having a new magic sword forged was resolved, talk quickly moved to discussion of repairs on An Teach Deiridh. While the dwarves, knockers, domovoi, and menehune focused primarily on the castle walls, Megan grew a lot more interested when she had a chance to consult with the ghille du, dryad, and huntin regarding the time it would take the throne to heal. Apparently, all would be well in time for May Day.

"Kahuna," she said, before Mr. Kahale could lead the group out. "When the main repairs are done here, I understand you also had, at least a couple of years back, a lot of interest in possible remodeling projects among the lost cities?”

Mr. Kahale nodded. "Been a long time coming, I think."

"We've lost enough," Megan said. "I think it's about time we started the plans to recover more instead. Let's start with what we can do in terms of making Gorias a livable outpost. We'll talk about it after New Year's, but before Lani goes back to school?”

He smiled. "Yes, Majesty."

The ogres came after the engineers, with Jack-In-Irons and Tsonoqua leading the small delegation.

“The healers have gotten enough to treat their current patients out of that thing?” Megan asked. Tsonoqua was carrying the cauldron again.

“Yep,” said Jack.

“Then it's yours, collectively. Certainly earned it. Enjoy your subsequent meals, and please don't ever tell me about them.”

“Well, after all the fun on this job, we won't even cook the next messenger.”

“…I want to check,” Megan said. “You don't mean you're going to have them extra rare?”

Jack laughed. “Well, not if you're going to be all smart about it, Majesty.”

El Raton Perez looked forward to doing more business, particularly if Megan ever had to get her wisdom teeth out. The tengu looked forward to playing more Go—and perhaps a painting exchange sometime. Delegation after delegation reconnected and departed.

“Any trouble from old times?” Megan asked a frowning Cassia after delivering her thanks and promises to the bakwas and the gada'zhe, the djinns and the peris.

“Nah. The cyclopes are partying with the ogres. The dryad is pursuing Greek-Xhosa relations, and good old Marcus Flavius is no doubt flying a kite. Speaking of people who can be encouraged to do that, the trolls want to reschedule.”

“You and Finn argue about something? He was okay with bringing the Stone back to Falias after he’s patched up, right?”

“Yes, he’s fine. Other kind of trolls. And the other other kind. The Norse all wanted to go home and catch the last half of their mid-winter festival. But they'll send two emissaries to meet later to make sure there's still some alliance after all this.”

“I'm fine with that.” Megan looked at the doorway. “Looks like my top Scandinavian negotiator is sticking around. Justin, show Ms. Dimmasdottir in, please.”

Tinna entered with a curtsy, and Megan got Tiernan's attention from a quiet conversation with his lieutenant. “Majesty, this is Tinna Dimmasdottir of the Huldufolk. Tinna, this is Tiernan of the Seelie. You won't think so, but you two are going to really like each other. Quietly. From the safety of your own homes. Tinna, will you be okay sitting in on a meeting with a few of the 'warmongers' after the holidays? Because we're still going to be keeping up a sword-and-sorcery treaty, but I nevertheless want your people's perspective and input.”

“Certainly, Majesty.”

Eventually, the crowd dwindled, and then there was no one else who needed her right now.

“I never did settle it,” Megan said to Lani.

“Really? You've been queening all over the place. What's left that you never settled?” Lani asked.

“Where I'm going to school.”

***

After a couple of hours with Justin, Lani, and Kerr, Megan let them get ready to return to earth, while she collected Ashling to deal with one last, particularly important matter.

"You're sure you're okay with this?" she asked the pixie.

"I can't imagine anything I'd be more okay with. It's like being a part of his story all over again."

They'd found the fragments right after the battle at Falias, initially to make sure they never fell into the wrong hands again, in the office of someone that no one at the University of Washington could remember. It had taken a lot of doing, but with a lot of help navigating through at just the right times, Megan had gotten the butterfly board, and taken the wing fragments, along with some of O'Neill's notes on Faerie that she wanted to make sure neither he, or anyone else, would ever recover.

Now they were in the room which housed a small library and the armor, now in its case with the Spear of Lugh beside it—the room which had been Megan’s father’s.

"We are a part of his story. He's still with me. Always will be," Megan said, as she carefully used the tattered wing fragments as bookmarks, noting the very most important sections of each of her father's journals, leaving the largest of the tatters to mark the section describing the death of Balor, which had set them on the hunt for the spear in the first place. She saved one final fragment, tucking it in to an empty section of one of his journals.

"What's that page for?" Ashling asked quietly.

"You said that his journals always had empty space, in case the stories weren't finished yet. I need to continue this one. He saved us. He saved all of us. I'm almost ready to write about it, but the words need to be there." She paused, looking at the page. "He's still out there. He's just preparing the next world for us, someday. But he needs some part of you with him, at the point where he started that trip... Otherwise he might get lost."

Ashling teared up, and just nestled against Megan for the longest time, looking reverently at the blank page.

Chapter 40: The Winter Dance

It was Christmas. Megan's house was still decked with boughs of holly, and her backyard was filled with people.

Her mother had pulled out a binder with all the forms for school stuff once Megan said she was ready. It had come pre-equipped with interspersed blank sheets of drawing paper for when Megan needed to think. Right now, though, it was neatly set aside. Her human future was important. Her Faerie future was important. But there was also right now.

Victor and Maxwell were ignoring everyone else, chasing each other around the yard in turns. Seven and Jude had mutually decided to be more sedate, with the three-legged kitten comfortably curled up on top of the husky's back, each glancing up now and then to watch the pair racing around, and occasionally right past them, without getting involved. The Count rested in a tree nearby.

“Peace on Earth and Good Will to Menehune—and the rest of you too,” Lani said.

“Can't believe we actually made it home for Christmas,” Megan said, smiling, as she bit into a cookie. “Are all your stockings hung by the chimney with care?”

“Yes,” Lani said. “Again. Once we got them out of everyone's sock drawers.”

Kerr, holding a tray piled far too high with baked goods, shuffled awkwardly without risk of tipping the pile over, somehow. “I assumed they had been drying.”

“And what did you think was up with the one with 'Kerr' written on it?” Lani asked.

“I was flattered, but assumed your mom just didn't know my size.”

Megan smiled. “What's been opened so far?”

“LEGOs, a shiny brass addition to Mom's collection for which we do not apologize,” Lani said. “Mathematica software, new workgloves and boots...”

“For which I am grateful, but I still think tonight's early to be opening presents,” Justin said. “But then, I'm used to Christmas Day as beginning a two-week minor celebration, not ending a since-September onslaught.”

Megan got on tiptoes to kiss his cheek. "You'll have lots of time to get used to it."

Justin smiled. "I'm looking forward to it."

From behind her, Sheila asked, “You looked at the binder?”

“I did, Mom.”

“UW has a very good design program, and you could room with Lani.”

“Yeah. I can room with Lani. And I know it's got a very good design program, but I think I should leave it to people who are going to be professional graphic designers.”

“You're not?”

“Well, I'm the Unseelie Queen.”

“Megan Bridget O'Reilly, that better have a follow-up that doesn't involve your picking your father's side entirely over being human. I thought you were going to find a balance once all this nonsense was over. Well it's finally over.”

“It is over. And I'm still the Queen. And still human!” Megan continued quickly before her mother could interrupt. “But there are things I can draw on to support myself now. You've... you've worked so hard my whole life, Mom. And I'm not against working hard. But if it's not necessary, I don't want to have to pay bills out of the hobby that kept me going most of my life.”

Megan paused for breath. “I want to draw while I think. I want to get up at night and paint what I feel in a flurry. I don't want clients and deadlines when I've already got diplomats and officers and renovations and the changing of the seasons to worry about.” Another breath. “But yeah. I do want to room with Lani.”

“So... you are going to UW?”

“Yeah. Maybe double-major in art history and music theory. Those come up a lot for a bard queen.”

Her mother hugged her. “I'm so proud of you. Picking a practical major.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

“And, apparently, already set up to provide for your mom in her old age.”

Megan just hugged more.

Ashling was nibbling on her gingerbread lounge-chair when Megan approached, pulling up a plastic chair next to Kerr's practical confectionery art.

“So,” Megan asked. “Nessa, huh?”

“Nessa. It's good to talk to her again.”

“Are there...ways to get you ...reincorporated?”

“No way am I even going to try. Too busy. Can't leave you alone. You get into way too much trouble without me. Besides, there are so many more things I need to explain to you.”

Megan smiled, about to respond, when Lani announced "Okay, the band is ready."

Since all the O'Reilly's neighbors were on vacation, Sheila had happily agreed to volunteer the backyard as the venue for a sudden private Sax & Violins concert, albeit more acoustic than some of their performances.

Cris opened everything with a slow, steady drumbeat that gradually picked up speed. Then the bass guitars joined in. Sheila O'Reilly had taken Erin in hand, and the pair opened the show, playing a call-and-response duel before building into the rapid, bouncy bass lines of “Yet Another Song About Jumping.”

Violet's Late to the Party t-shirt announced her as Team Sheila, while Katja, even mid-winter, wore her Sax & Violins t-shirt tied off—still team Erin, as the two violins picked up on the musical dueling. They bounced around as Cassia, animated despite the bandages, joined in. Mrs. Kahale joined her on her brand new trombone—and no one cared that she was only sort of playing the same song. Nell joined in last, voice sweeping over the yard, exhorting the audience to jump.

Lani pulled Kerr up, and started bouncing, encouraging her partner. Kerr responded by shyly bouncing along a little. Ashling and Mack were less restrained, head-banging and leaping around with wild abandon.

Justin was too injured to dance, but cheered the loudest when Megan joined Nell with the vocals.

After the freezing cold of pure Winter, the remaining wet leaves, gray skies, and brown and green lawn of a Seattle Christmas was welcome. It wasn't the Ballroom, with the throne, and all of the fair folk. But she had her friends, her boyfriend, the people who'd seen her through a war, and the same mother who had been so stressed, and tired, and controlling all those years was jamming wildly with the band.

Megan kept singing as she joined in on the dance. With a wave of her hand and a few notes, she froze the last remnants of autumn leaves into little crystalline statues of brown, red, orange, and green, which she could lift with the winds she called. The wind picked up, swirling around her as she sang to the tune of a two different horns, two violins, drums, and two basses, and the season—her season—danced with its Queen.