Fey 02 - Changeling (34 page)

"His grandfather, Sire?
 
His grandfather be dead, beg pardon, Sire."

"His grandfather," Nicholas said firmly, not letting himself get sidetracked by a grief he did not have time for.
 
"Jewel's father."

The nurse nodded, but not before Nicholas saw the fear in her eyes.
 
"I willna let ye down, Sire.
 
I'll tend the boy with care, I will."

"Good."
 
Nicholas stood.
 
This decision felt right.
 
The boy deserved more than a lonely life in this overheated room.
 
No matter what his problems, he was a direct descendent of the Roca.
 
He would always be the son of a King and a great-grandson of the Black King of the Fey.
 

Nicholas patted the boy's hand and then stood.
 
"I'll see you in the Coronation Hall," he said to his son.
 
The boy didn't understand, but he didn't need to.

Yet.

SEVENTEEN

The Coronation Hall looked like one of the banks in Nye.
 
Rugar had made a room half this size into his bedroom when they had taken over Nye.
 
His father used an entire bank as a palace even now.
 
The Fey had never needed palaces and fine buildings.
 
The Black King was Black King whether he had a fancy hall, a tent in the middle of a bloody field, or a Shadowlands floating silent and invisible above it all.
 
A Black King's power rested within himself, not within a building.

Rugar stood at the double arched doors, his cloak swirling around him.
 
The Hall was full of Island nobles.
 
He had brought twenty of his own people, and had already sent them to the seats near the front.
 
He preferred to stand here, and survey the Hall.
 
Stand here and, with luck, see Jewel before the others did.

He had tried to go upstairs to visit her, but was told that she was dressing.
 
As if Jewel ever spent time on clothing.
 
But rituals were important to these people, and one of the important rituals during a Coronation, apparently, was making sure the Queen was properly dressed.

Rugar had worn his finest clothing too.
 
A black cape woven with good luck wishes.
 
His fighting boots.
 
And a white shirt given him by Jewel's mother when Jewel was smaller than Gift.
 
Unlike Jewel's wedding, this was a celebration.
 
One step closer to Fey rule on the Isle.

One more step and Jewel could be Queen.

Burden, Hanouk, and others from the Settlement sat in the balconies overhanging the Hall.
 
Rugar had noticed them the moment he came in, but did not acknowledge them.
 
When Jewel gained control of the Isle — if Jewel gained control — Rugar would have Burden and his crew shot for traitors.
 
They had no right starting that Settlement.
 
It was in direct defiance to his orders.
 
And, from the things Solanda had said, the Settlement was paying for that defiance.
 
Their blessed sanctuary wasn't a safe harbor after all.
 
They lived in constant fear.

It served them right.

The rest of the Hall was filled with Islanders.
 
Some Rugar recognized from Jewel's wedding.
 
Others he had never seen before.
 
There were also an abundance of Black Robes.
 
One had tried to seat him earlier, but Rugar had kept him back with a hiss and a glare.
 
The Black Robes were as frightened of the Fey as the Fey were of the Black Robes.
 
Only most Fey forgot to use that.

Up front, the Rocaan sat, his red robes marking him like a blood sacrifice.
 
He made Rugar nervous.
 
The Rocaan had touched Jewel once, during the wedding, and Rugar had held a knife then, determined to use it if the Rocaan harmed anyone.
 
Rugar had a knife this time, too, just as the rest of his people did.
 
They all also had bladders of river water, in case things went wrong.
 

The Spell Warders had learned that the effects of the holy poison could be slowed, maybe even stopped, if the poison were diluted.
 
Rugar had not had time or the chance to add river water to the vials of poison sitting on the table up front, but if something went wrong --if the Rocaan decided to use the holy poison as a weapon --then Rugar's people had the river water to spray on each other to slow and, with luck, stop the effects of the poison.

The river water might save lives.

If Rugar had to use it.

He hoped he wouldn't.

Solanda sat near the front, looking radiant in a tunic and pants of soft green.
 
Her boots matched.
 
Most of the Fey wore green at Rugar's request.
 
He wanted Jewel to know they felt joy at the death of the King.

Burden's people did not wear green, however.
 
They wore sedate browns and blacks.
 
Proper everyday colors.
 
Rugar shoved his hands in the pockets of his pants.
 
He had never expected the Settlement to last as long as it had.
 
Even with all the troubles that Solanda had reported, the Settlers hung on.
 
Rugar understood their defiance, but not their determination.
 
Perhaps they knew the punishment they would receive if they ever did return to the Shadowlands.

Two Black Robes passed him, pacing beside the arched doors.
 
He leaned on the door jamb, startled at the cold of the stone.
 
The Hall was warm, but he figured that was the press of bodies.
 
He had not seen so many people sitting in one place before.
 
This many people normally belonged only on a battlefield.

Where he belonged.

Where Jewel belonged.

She should be finding the secret to the Islanders' poison instead of standing beside their next King like a dutiful soldier.
 
Perhaps Rugar hadn't done enough investigating himself.
 
Perhaps the Islanders had some small magicks besides the poison.
 
Perhaps they had the power to Charm.

A rustle in the corridor behind him made him turn.
  
Three people walked toward him:
 
his daughter, her Islander husband, and a woman Rugar did not recognize.
 
The woman was carrying the stone that Jewel called a son.

Jewel had her right hand on top of her husband's left one, and they held their arms outstretched in a ceremonial walk.
 
The new Islander King wore white ceremonial robes with red trim going down the side.
 
A tiny silver sword hung around his neck.
 
His head was noticeably bare, his blond hair combed back in preparation for his crown.

Jewel's hair flowed freely down her shoulders and back, kept off her face by a small cap made of pearls.
 
The pearl trails ran through her hair as well, making her look like a decoration instead of a woman.
  
Her gown matched Nicholas's robe.
 
The high bodice made the gown arch over her stomach.
 
Rugar squinted.
 
It wasn't the bodice that made the arch.
 
Jewel was pregnant again.
 
He let out a small sigh.
 
He didn't really want another grandchild in the Shadowlands, but she was leaving him no choice.
 

He put his hands on his hips.
 
"You wear the colors of mourning," he said.

She wore shoes that added to her height.
 
She was taller than her husband, almost as tall as her father.
 
"This is not an occasion for celebration."

"I thought the welcoming of a new king was always a celebration."

"Not when the old King died before his time."
 
Nicholas spoke sharply.
 
His Fey was heavily accented, but fluent and clear.
 
He stopped walking a few feet from Rugar.

The woman stopped too.
 
The stone turned so that it could see.
 
Amazing that it had survived this long.
 
It was meant as a golem, and golems normally did not grow or learn.
 
His daughter was powerful, more powerful than she realized.

"You were supposed to be sitting inside," Jewel said.

"I wanted to see you, to congratulate you on becoming Queen."

"You could have come at any time during the week.
 
It would have been courtesy to pay your respects."

Rugar smiled. "I had none to pay."

Color flooded Nicholas's face.
 
"My father bargained with you in good faith."

"Your father killed Fey."

"My father did not ask for an invasion of his Isle."

"Your father should have been prepared for one."

"Stop!"
 
Jewel moved between them.
 
Her skirts rustled as she moved, the sound Rugar had heard earlier.
 
As she looked back and forth between her father and her husband, the pearls in her hair tapped each other.
 
"This will get us nowhere."

"Like the marriage," Rugar said.

"If you had helped, if you had tried, maybe things would have moved quicker," Jewel said.
 
Her eyes were sparkling.
 
He could feel her rage as if it were a live thing.
 
"You don't even ask to visit me.
 
Or your grandson."

Rugar looked at the stone.
 
It had put a finger in its mouth and was staring at him.
 
Its eyes were flat and gray, but not quite empty.
 
Not empty enough.
 
They seemed to reflect something he had seen before.

"I do not consider this thing my grandson," he said.

"No matter what you consider my son," she snapped, "he is your grandson."

Rugar looked away from the stone.
 
He would not tell her.
 
He could not tell her.
 
If he told her, she would sneak into Shadowlands and steal Gift herself.
 
"Yes," he said as levelly as he could.
 
"I suppose he is."

"So visit him," Jewel said.
 
"Treat us like a family.
 
If you act like we're family, the rest of the Fey will follow.
 
The rest of the Isle will follow.
 
We made an agreement.
 
It's time to uphold it."

Rugar looked her in the eyes.
 
She had lost her understanding of the Fey tradition.
 
Fey did not uphold bargains.
 
Fey subverted them; Fey used them to suit Fey needs.
 
"You made a bargain, daughter.
 
Not me.
 
I still hold war council in Shadowlands."

"With half your people," Nicholas said.

"The best half," Rugar said.

"If you made war council, you would still be fighting battles."
 
Jewel pushed herself closer to him.
 
Her skin had a rose-scent he had never noticed before.
 
"You are hiding in Shadowlands.
 
The Black King's son Rugar, Greatest Warrior of them all, hiding from water for five years."