Once Broken Faith (38 page)

I didn't know which office belonged to Master Davies. I didn't need to. Most of them were dark, their doors locked against the night; of all the doors along the hall, only one was cracked enough to let a sliver of light escape. It showed the scuffs and muddy footprints on the linoleum. The janitorial staff probably didn't come until closer to morning.

As I drew closer, I heard voices from inside.

“—tried to explain that actually, I
do
need to show up for classes once in a while if I want a shot at tenure, but you know Toby.” The alchemist: Master Davies. Tylwyth Teg, originally from the Kingdom of Silences, currently living in the Mists and hence subject to my laws.

Wry laughter followed his words. “Oh, man, do I know Toby.” The voice was unfamiliar: the subject material was not. I sometimes thought half of my reign was going to be spent trying to explain October to people who didn't have any context on her, and hence assumed we were all screwing with them.

“Did you know she elf-shot herself
on purpose
?”

“See, and here I was thinking there was something stupid left that she hadn't done. Stop disillusioning me.”

“Sorry.”

I felt like I was intruding. But my brother was unwell, and I was Queen in the Mists, and it was time for me to make my presence known. I stepped into the sliver of light, reaching for the partially-open door at the same time.

It opened to reveal Master Davies sitting at his desk, and a woman sitting
on
his desk. They were both wearing human disguises—only sensible, if they were going to hang around with the door unlocked—and I didn't recognize her at all. Sadly, that didn't necessarily make her a newcomer to the Mists. My kingdom was large, and I'd spent more time avoiding it than I had going door to door and meeting the people whose fealty was technically mine to command.

The woman blinked at me. So did Master Davies. Then, in a tone that was pleasantly polite without being friendly, he said, “I'm sorry, but office hours happen before the campus is closed for the night. Is there something else I can help you with?”

It was the first time he'd spoken to me like I was a person, instead of just a crown. My illusions aren't strong
enough to change my voice, and so I hesitated, enjoying the feeling of being part of the scene, instead of holding myself above it.

The girl slid off the desk, landing lightly on her feet. Her hair was brown-blonde, darkening to black at the tips, and somehow didn't look dyed. She was softly rounded, wearing cut-off denim shorts and a tank top that left her belly bare. Not the sort of clothes one wears to visit a professor at midnight—not unless the visit is a lot more social than professional. And she'd admitted to knowing October. I took a breath, and took a guess.

“I need you to return to Muir Woods with me,” I said. Master Davies's expression went blank. I felt bad about that, I genuinely did, but I couldn't
stop
. Not when Nolan needed me. “Something's wrong with the elf-shot cure. My brother woke, but he didn't stay that way.”

“Your Highness.” Master Davies stood and bowed, looking at the floor as he continued, “You do me too much honor by coming to me here on campus. I would have gladly come had you called.”

“It would have taken longer,” I said.

The woman looked between us, her eyes getting wider and wider. They were an unprepossessing shade of blue, the sort of thing no one would choose for an illusion unless they were natural. She was dressing up, but only in the most textile of senses. She wanted him to see her for herself, or as close as was possible under the circumstances.

“Wait,” she said. “Is this—I mean, are you—I mean—oh, shit.” Her cheeks flared red. “I just swore in front of the new Queen, didn't I?”

“You did,” I said, unable to smother my amusement completely. It was sort of a relief. Humor makes the bad times easier to bear, even if it never lasts long enough to make a real difference. “Don't worry. We don't have any rules against that. I think because my father probably didn't realize that humans
had
profanity. He was
sheltered like that. Also, that's exactly what October said when she met the High Queen. Clearly, you know her.”

“Ah,” said Master Davies. “Queen Windermere in the Mists, I'd like you to meet my friend Cassandra Brown. Cassandra is a student here.”

“Not one of his,” she hastened to clarify. “Nothing inappropriate is going on. We were just catching up.”

“Brown,” I said. “Are you related to Karen?”

Cassandra looked startled. “She's my sister. How did you . . . ?”

“She came to my conclave. She seemed nice. A little shy, but I'd be shy, too, if I had one of the First accompanying my every move. Are you an oneiromancer?” Karen Brown's powers were the kind that appeared only rarely, and even more rarely in changelings.

“No, ma'am. I mean, Highness. I mean . . .” She stopped, a frustrated look crossing her face. “I have no idea how to do this. I'm just a changeling. I'm not
supposed
to know how to do this. If I leave right now, will you pretend this never happened?”

I paused. Something about her tone told me she was holding something back. It might be nothing. So many things were really nothing, when looked at in the light of day. But if there was a chance she was withholding information that the alchemist had shared with her . . .

“I'm afraid not,” I said. “I need you both to come with me.”

“Cassandra's not part of this,” protested Master Davies.

“My brother is unwell,” I said. “That means my heir is unwell. The security of the kingdom requires you both to come with me now.”

“Toby's not even here,” muttered Cassandra. “How the hell am I in trouble when Toby's not even here?”

I ignored her and swept my hand in an arc through the air, opening a portal to the upstairs hallway of my knowe. I didn't want to drop us in the receiving room,
where my servants might see. Most of the household staff was on loan from the local nobles, and that meant if I wanted to keep Nolan's condition a secret, I needed to keep them from suspecting anything. The alchemist reappearing after I'd dismissed him would certainly be suspicious enough to make people start talking.

Master Davies looked at the portal with dismay. Like Cassandra, he couldn't believe this was happening to him. Unlike Cassandra, he'd been raised in a royal household, and knew better than to express his displeasure aloud.

Belatedly, I realized I didn't remember his first name. I was already falling into the habits of queenship. And if it got me my brother back, I didn't care.

“After you,” I said.

Master Davies paused to pick up the valise containing his alchemical supplies before stepping through the portal. Cassandra exhaled when she saw him appear on the other side, casting one last, anxious glance at my face before following him through. I went after her, and the portal closed behind me.

The servants had been here recently. The hallway smelled of wood polish and fresh blackberry flowers. Master Davies shoved his hands into his pockets and released his human disguise, adding the scents of ice and yarrow to the mixture. Mostly yarrow. He didn't remove his glasses. I knew they were cosmetic, but they seemed to be making him feel better, and I didn't want to push it. I was already pushing him hard enough.

Cassandra, in contrast, was looking around with open-mouthed amazement. She reached up to push her hair behind her ears, releasing her illusions in the same gesture; they dissolved in a wash of grapefruit and turpentine, revealing the tufts of black-and-brown fur crowning her dully pointed ears. I frowned. I'd never seen ears like that anywhere in Faerie, and while I might have forgotten many of the points of queenly etiquette, I'll never
forget the nights I spent with Marianne, her calm, steady voice drilling me on the things I'd need to know to recognize all the denizens of our vast and varied land. Whatever her heritage was, I didn't know it.

Master Davies cleared his throat. “Your Highness? Where is your brother?”

“This way,” I said, and pulled my regard away from Cassandra's ears as I turned.

The room where Nolan slept was a short distance down the hall. The lock was open; the knob turned easily under my hand. I pushed the door open and stepped aside, letting Master Davies get a look at his patient.

Nolan was exactly where I'd left him. His chest rose and fell with more vigor than was normal for a victim of elf-shot, but that was the only indication that the cure had been administered; from the way he was lying there, he might as well have still been under the original spell.

“Your Highness.” Master Davies' voice snapped me out of my contemplation of my brother. I turned to him. He looked at me gravely. “I need a sample of your brother's blood to determine what's happening. Is this going to distress you? Do I need to ask you to leave the room? I will.”

He had that authority. Alchemists and healers could command monarchs in the course of treating their patients. It was a small twist in the archaic rules that bound us all, intended to protect our healers from the wrath of people like me. I stared at him, not sure whether I should be grateful that he was worried about my delicate sensibilities, or whether I should start screaming and never stop.

I settled for neither. “I worked in retail during the holiday season, and I've met October more than once,” I said, barely managing to keep myself from snarling. “I can handle a little blood.”

“Even when it's your brother's? I don't want to fight with you, Highness, or find myself banished because you don't like what I have to do in order to do my job.”

I took a deep breath. That didn't do much to make me feel better. I took another one. Finally feeling calm enough to speak without yelling, I said, “I'm staying. You have my word that nothing you do in the course of helping my brother will be held against you.”

“Heard and witnessed,” said Cassandra. I glanced at her, surprised. She shrugged. “You pick things up.”

“I guess you do,” I said.

Master Davies moved toward the head of Nolan's bed, pausing to put his valise down on the bedside table and begin rummaging through it. His hands seemed to dip deeper than the bottom of the bag. That was an easy charm, for some fae; treat the leather, spell the stitches, and produce something that was bigger on the inside than it was on the outside. Like a TARDIS doing double-duty as a book bag.

He produced an antique silver scalpel and a glass bowl barely larger than the tip of his thumb. After glancing nervously in my direction, he bent and nicked the side of Nolan's jaw. It was a clever place to conceal a cut; if not for the fact that Nolan hadn't needed to shave in eighty years, it could have passed for part of his normal morning routine.

The cut wasn't deep, but it was enough. A few drops of blood welled up. Master Davies used the blunt side of the scalpel to direct them into the dish. Straightening, he put the scalpel down next to his valise and waved his hand over the blood, chanting something quick and sharp in a language I thought was probably Welsh. The smell of his magic rose again, stronger than before, chilling the room by several degrees. I shivered. Cassandra didn't. She was staring at the air above the blood, eyes
slightly unfocused, like she was looking at something I couldn't see.

I frowned. Something was wrong here. Something was—

“Oh, oak and ash.” Master Davies' voice was hushed. My head snapped around, attention going back to him. He was pinching the bridge of his nose with his free hand, the smell of ice and yarrow hanging heavy in the air. He looked like a man defeated.

And Nolan was still asleep.

“Master Davies?” I had to fight to keep my tone level. I nearly lost the battle. “What is it?”

“The elf-shot—” he began, and stopped, thinking better of whatever he'd been about to say. Carefully, he put the dish containing my brother's blood down next to the scalpel and turned to face me, folding his hands behind his back. “Your Highness, the cure I developed was intended to treat elf-shot. Do you understand what that means?”

Irritation washed through me like acid. “It means my brother is supposed to wake
up
.”

“Yes, it does. But more, it means that I was able, with the assistance of Sir Daye, to brew a tincture specifically designed to counter a sleeping charm developed by Eira Rosynhwyr.”

“I
know
that,” I snapped. “You tested Nolan's blood before, to make sure he'd been hit with a variation of the charm that your cure could fight.”

“And he was, and it did,” said Master Davies. “The problem is . . . people have been tinkering with the recipe for elf-shot since it was created. Some of them were trying to make it kinder. Others were trying to make it worse. Do you know who brewed the elf-shot that felled your brother?”

“I wasn't exactly in a position to ask when it happened,” I said.

“Yes, of course. My apologies.” He took a deep breath.
“The elf-shot itself was a standard recipe. As close to generic as you can get without changing the way it works. But it was hiding a secondary charm, something related, yet not the same.”

“A second sleeping spell?” I asked, aghast. “Can you
do
that?”

“Could I do that? Absolutely. It would be child's play. Elf-shot is so dominant in the blood while it's active that it can be used to hide all manner of things. The alchemist who brewed this spell tucked it behind the elf-shot, and keyed it to consciousness. The second spell might as well not have existed until your brother woke.”

This time, despair washed through me, chasing away the irritation. “So he's going to sleep for another hundred years, or until you find another cure?”

“I'm afraid not,” said Master Davies. “This isn't elf-shot, which—cruel as it is—comes with certain protections. Someone who's been elf-shot doesn't need to eat or drink. They don't even really need to breathe. Elf-shot in its purest form was designed
not
to break the Law.”