Fey 02 - Changeling (54 page)

Lord Enford stopped beside Tel.
 
"I agree, Highness.
 
I would not have brought him here at this moment, if I didn't believe you needed to hear this before you spoke to the lords."

The King's shoulders went up and down in a sigh he released quietly.
 
If Tel hadn't been trained to watch the bodies of others, he would never have noticed the movement.
 

"Very well," the King said.

Tel bit his lower lip.
 
He had learned all sorts of bad habits in this body.
 
He licked the lip, then swallowed.
 
"Sire, on that day, twas Rocaanists what arrived first.
 
I was takin their horses.
 
Twas what the Rocaan was doing what stopped me."

The King was watching him now, eyes hooded, expression guarded.
 
He didn't move at all.

"Afore they went in," Tel said, "they took them holy water bottles from their pouches.
 
Twas an Officiate what pulled a white cloth from his pouch and said, 'Here it is,' flashing it at the Rocaan.
 
The Rocaan nodded."

"They were supposed to bring the cloth," the King said.
 
"It was …."

He turned his head away, then brought his right hand to his face.
 
With his thumb and forefinger, he rubbed his eyes.

"It was," Enford said, keeping his gaze on the King to see if he should speak or not, "it was to protect the Queen during the ceremony."

"I know," Tel said.
 
"But that's the odd thing.
 
Twas already kept in the pouch with the Officiate's holy water.
 
When he put the cloth back, twas three vials he put on top of it."

The King brought his head up, but his hand remained in place, fingers open as if expressing the shock he would not allow his face to express.
 
"What?"

"When he put the cloth in the pouch, he put three bottles on top.
 
All holy water."
 
Tel's throat had gone dry again.
 
Didn't the King understand? Was Tel going to have to spell it all out for both of them?

"Those vials are stoppered," the King whispered.
 
His gaze was on Enford's.
 
"Sometimes water leaks."

Enford nodded.

Suddenly the King's movements were focused.
 
He came down the stairs and stopped so that he was standing across from Tel. "You're saying the Rocaan watched this?"

"Aye, Sire," Tel said. "Twas he what started it.
 
He got em all lookin for that cloth.
 
He dinna say nothing when he saw the Officiate put it under the bottles a water."

"I need you to be very clear here," the King said.
 
"You are telling me that the Rocaan sanctioned this."

"I dinna hear him give permission, Sire, but he watched it and he dinna say word one.
 
If he dinna like it, he coulda got a new cloth or something."

"God's will." The King spat out the words.
 
"God's will with the help of Matthias."

"Highness," Enford said.
 
"There's no proof.
 
It could have been a simple mistake."

The King whirled. His eyes, dead a moment before, had a spark within them.
 
"If you believed it was a mistake, you would have not brought this man to me."

Enford said nothing.
 
He continued to meet the King's gaze levelly.

"Sire," Tel said, "yer wife was a good woman.
 
She dinna deserve this.
 
But I wouldna a said a thing if I thought twas an accident.
 
But with that check, with the way they was talking, t'all seemed on purpose ta me.
 
Even then.
 
I thought what they done was strange, but I dinna know how twould end up."

The King nodded.
 
"Thank you," he said.
 
Then he took Tel's hand.
 
Tel suppressed a wince.
 
"I cannot thank you enough."

Tel dipped his head, trying to be courteous.
 
He had one more thing to say, and he had thought all morning about the way to phrase it.
 
"Forgive me, Sire, but tis one more thing I gotta say.
 
I know twas the Old Rocaan what picked this one.
 
And I know he done because he thought twas right.
 
But Tapio — the head groom, sire — he says a man shows himself when he talks ta his horse, and well, that new Rocaan, he dinna talk ta his horse.
 
T'all.
 
Tis as if I could give him a brown mare taday and a black stallion tamorrow, and he wouldna know the difference.
 
Tis not ta say he's cruel ta the animal.
 
He just doesna seem ta know anything outside himself, Sire."

The King was frowning slightly.
 
A blush was building in Tel's cheeks.
 
So many small incidents he could relate, incidents he had seen in the Tabernacle.
 
Incidents that didn't seem important then, but did now.

But he couldn't say anything about them.
 
He had seen them when he wore a different body, the body of an Elder.
 
A groom would never have seen these things.
 
It was a situation he had not been in before.
 
The Fey had always known what he did, how he changed himself.
 
The Islanders never would.

"Are you saying I should forgive him for what he's done?" the King said.

"Nay, Sire!"
 
Tel actually took a step backwards.
 
"I think tis a betrayal of the worst kind.
 
Ye and yer lady ye trusted him.
 
Ta attack her in yer celebration, and at a time a peace is a crime that canna be outdone.
 
I guess what I'm saying, Sire, tis that this might be something ta thinka.
 
I dinna believe that he thinks beyond himself.
 
If the time comes agin where he sees a need ta act according ta his lights, he will.
 
Sire."

The King nodded.
 
"You're a good man, Ejil.
 
I understand you spent a lot of time getting to me.
 
I appreciate your candor."

Tel knew a dismissal when he heard one.
 
He bowed.
 
"Tis glad I am ye took the time fer me, Sire."

"No," the King said with a firmness Tel hadn't heard before.
 
"I'm the one who is pleased.
 
Come to me whenever you need something.
 
I will see to it personally."

"Sire," Enford said.

The King waved his hand to silence Enford.
 
"I mean that, Ejil."

"Thank ye, Sire."
 
Tel bowed again, then backed away.
 
The King returned to his throne.
 
Tel turned and walked out of the room, his heart pounding with relief.

He had survived this.
 
He had been able to avenge the Black King's granddaughter, and he had been able to strike a blow against the Tabernacle.

It was time to become Ejil the groom fully and completely.

Tel would never be Fey again.

THIRTY

Nicholas sat on the steps and buried his face in his arms.
 
The darkness did not soothe him.
 
Nothing soothed him, except his infant daughter.

Arianna looked so much like Jewel.
 
She had Fey qualities, qualities that would make her more than an Islander, more than a Fey, if Solanda were to be believed.
 

Arianna was the thing that kept him moving.
 
If he didn't resolve all of these crises, her parents' people would forever be at war.

"Highness," Enford said in a shocked voice.
 
"The Lords will be here shortly."

Even Nicholas's stomach was trembling.
 
His eyelid twitched, something it had never done before Jewel's death.
 
He sat up, pressed his right forefinger against the offending lid, and looked at the near-empty audience room.

He had no answers.
 

The Lords would want him to make decisions.

The simple gut reaction was easy.
 
He would go to the Tabernacle himself and slit Matthias's arrogant throat.
 
Murder his wife, would he?

Murder.

Nicholas stood and walked to the throne.
 
He ran his hands along the carved back.

Two murders.

Some Fey — some male Fey — had killed his father.

Matthias had known.

Jewel had known.

Only Nicholas had not wanted to believe.

But if Matthias had just given it some time, he would have learned that Jewel was on his side.
 
Jewel had wanted to find the killer as much as Matthias had.

Jewel had gone to her old friend Burden.

She had suspected someone.

Her father?

What had she said to him that last afternoon?

She had said that he hid.

He hid.

Like an assassin.

Nicholas pressed the heel of his hand against his forehead.

And Matthias had murdered Jewel with trust.
 
He had taken the scheme they had made to save Jewel's life, to allow her to participate in Islander ceremonies, and he had turned it against her.

He too had hidden behind the rituals of his religion.

Behind his God.

"Sire?" Enford said.
 
"Are you all right?"

Was the man a fool?
 
How did he expect Nicholas to be all right after this week?
 
The fact that Nicholas was still on his feet made him stronger than most people he had ever met.

"Sire, we need to discuss what we will do with this news."

"We will discuss it when the others arrive," Nicholas said.

His voice sounded hollow in the large room.
 
Empty, like he was empty.
 
His dilemma was impossible.

And he had promised Lord Stowe answers today.

Answers.

The only answer Nicholas had was to make the Isle safe for Arianna.
 
He had only one way to do that now.
 
The threat to his daughter did not come from the Fey.

He walked around the throne and sat on its carved wooden seat.
 
He put his hands on the chair's arms, fists gripping the ends.
 
"Send pages for the Lords.
 
If they're not here within the next few moments, we will start without them."