Chapter Eighteen #2
Kesk, with equal anger, added, “Do you imagine this is some game?”
“No games.” Zyr lifted his head. “Robin is not mine. I am his.”
Satisfying, how Kesk’s eyes hardened. That Zyr would lower his eyes for a human but meet his gaze. Veroni’s expression curdled further as she turned to her bond.
“Leave it to the death aligned and mortals to bring up their proclivities in the matters of property,” she said. “How distasteful.”
“I think they’re being willfully obtuse, beithir.” Robin’s hand rested, proprietary, on the small of Zyr’s back. “Spell it out.”
Later, he would thank Robin properly. For his quick mind and his trust. For playing the game, which, like all fae games, was anything but. For now, he settled for a nod.
Deadly stakes and no lies permitted. That was the way of things. You could put on a show, saw the lady in half, but in Faerie, it only counted if she was well and truly sawed. Which made this next bit a carefully walked line, stitching Protocol in a manner never intended to apply to a human.
“Historically, the Council has found proclivities to be relevant to the application of oaths. There was a case with a selkie.”
“Skin shifters,” Kesk sneered, and a murmur of agreement spread through the room.
“Yes. A pelt as a lover’s token, and with it the entirety of their loyalty. A selkie House heir gifted herself to another fae, a pixie with no sworn loyalties. And the House head had the pixie killed. The matter came before the Council.”
“Must we listen to this inanity?” Kesk asked, addressing Veroni. “I say we kill the human and call it done.”
“The Council,” Zyr continued, as if uninterrupted, “found that the House head had breached Protocol. Taking action against the pixie was, in the Council’s view, the same as attacking the selkie herself.”
“Irrelevant. Humans are not fae,” the sylph snapped, with a sharp gesture toward Robin. “He’s no pixie. He’s not even a changeling.”
“We recently had the Monarchs themselves acknowledge a human for a Council seat.”
Near identical looks of disgust from the pair at that. Did the Monarchs know how openly they wore their disapproval?
“Regardless,” Veroni said. “You’re speaking of a case that happened nearly a millennia ago.”
Robin laughed, the sound cutting. “Zyr, refresh my memory. Tell me when the last recorded fae duel was, before the one Kesk stood as witness and judge for. I could’ve sworn it was more than a millennia.”
“About 1,400 years ago,” Zyr answered, once again turning to regard Robin with his head lowered. “Apologies, Robin. I don’t recall the exact year.”
“Shut up.” Kesk started to rise, but settled again when his bond set her hand on his. “We are to be sworn as the Heads of your House. You’d do well to remember what that means.”
“As would you. I have kept my oaths to that House for two thousand years. What is given freely must be reciprocated. You owe me protection, and so owe Robin the same. I am his. In the eyes of the Council, he is me.”
This time, Kesk did rise, wings flaring. “You debase yourself, un–”
He cut himself off abruptly at the sound of laughter from the doorway.
A bright tinkling sound, familiar despite the centuries since Zyr had last heard it.
Some things cut too deeply to forget. Zyr’s anger curdled into something bitter and old.
An emotion he had no word for, no matter how many times he circled Robin’s wheel.
Immediately, he turned to face the Monarch, dropping to one knee, as he had beside Robin. Kneeling before the Monarchs wasn’t required. But it had, once, been required of him. Now was not the time to invite a question of his manners.
“Ah, our studious little beithir,” said that laughing voice.
The Monarch was tiny, always bigger in Zyr’s mind than in fact.
She dressed herself in a pretense of night, gauzy fabric, silver shoes, and a crescent moon at the center of her holly crown, glowing in her long, dark hair. “It’s been some time.”
“Monarch,” Veroni said. “I hope our little get together didn’t disturb you.”
“Such consideration,” the Monarch answered, drifting slowly toward them. “What mischief have you brought to our home, children?”
“A minor matter, honored cousin.” Cloying, the honey in the sidhe’s voice. He didn’t play the sycophant nearly so well as his followers, all whom had joined Zyr on their knees. “Another death aligned, corrupted by humanity. The poor degenerate claims the human as his keeper.”
“With all due respect, Zyr informed you I’m his keeper,” Robin said, his hand finding Zyr’s back again. “As a fact. Not an assertion.”
The Monarch’s twilight eyes focused on Robin at that, studying him as she did most things, like a silly triviality that she deigned to notice only out of boredom and generosity. “And who might you be?”
“I go by Robin, ma’am. I don’t know the proper address for you.”
He could have done worse, but there was no knowing how she’d react. At best, she considered humans to be pretty pests, like rabbits in a vegetable garden. Sometimes, she liked to watch the rabbits. Other times, she wanted them shot.
“Unsurprising.” Just that, and she turned back to Zyr.
Her fingertips found his chin, a light pressure that he allowed to tilt his head further up, so that he was staring into her condescending smile.
“One of our hard-won successes. You’ve given this human your pelt, have you? Played him the pixie.”
Zyr’s tail twitched, barb out, for all that the rest of him remained still.
His eyes fixed on the Monarch’s face, while his breath came in short, controlled bursts.
It was important that he did well here. It would be nothing to her at all, to punish him.
To take Robin away, as she once had his books.
“Yes, Monarch. It’s atypical, I know. But there are few life aligned with the–” He cut himself off.
He didn’t dare say anything that might be read as criticism.
“They have more important concerns than a lone beithir. And you always said I required a keeper. Robin has proven himself a check for my more violent urges.”
Once counted. Robin had kept him from killing the cat.
“A sentiment I stand by.” she said, still smiling, her eyes on his. “You always did do better when tended to directly by a firm hand.”
Her hand fell away, gaze moving first to Robin then to her heirs.
“We don’t need the Council finding fault with our chosen, Kesk, Veroni.
Nor would we have your House fall into ill repute before you’ve even taken formal oaths.
” She smiled, sweetly, at the pair of them.
“We require decorum. As well intentioned as I know you both to be, my beloved and I feel very strongly on adherence to Protocol.”
Kneeling as he was, his eyes fixed on the Monarch’s smile, Zyr couldn’t see the pair. But he swore he could feel the fresh tension in the room.
“Of course, honored cousin,” Kesk answered.
“Then we’re understood.” The Monarch’s smile grew even brighter. “Paying mind to stray humans is something for those of lesser quality, regardless. Not something for our favored relatives. Do you relinquish your attempted claim on the human and acknowledge his right to Zyr’s status in your House?”
“We do, honored cousin, under your wise direction.” Veroni, the cleverer of the two, sounded almost as placid as the Monarch herself.
“Veroni speaks for you in this, Kesk?”
“She does,” Kesk replied, and then, after a breath, “honored cousin. Thank you for your council. As your counterpart always reminds me, humans are delicate, brief creatures. Our time is better spent on matters of permanence.”
“Your willingness to see the wisdom in his words speaks well of you, cousin.” The Monarch’s fingers brushed Zyr’s cheek while he kept himself from flinching, as her smiling attention returned to him.
“There, now. All settled. Your pixie’s claim is laid.
Enjoy him while he lasts. And then you’ll come see us, hatchling, so that we might match you with a more appropriate keeper. ”
“Yes, Monarch,” Zyr answered.
He wanted to turn. To look to Robin. To do anything but wait, kneeling before her, feeling like a child again. There’d been no shame to it, kneeling for Robin. Not in private nor before the mocking seelie.
But he loathed himself for this. Kneeling for her. And still, he remained where he was, allowing her pretense at affection, as close to a mother’s care as he’d ever known.
“With your permission, we’ll return now.” He’d keep his question marks for Robin, too. “I’d not wish to take more of your valued time, Monarch.”
“Permission granted.” Her dismissal came with a bored flick of her fingers. For once, Zyr was grateful for her caprice.
Robin stood immediately, hand moving from Zyr’s back to his horn. “Zyr, take me–”
“Don’t forget to let House Banyan know of the arrangement. Unless there are two Robin Goodfellows meandering about our realm.”
“I’m the only Robin I’ve met here.” Robin answered, precise and steady. “My brother and his consort are aware, Monarch. They were there when it first came up.”
“Family unity. How lovely.” She turned from them then, as if they’d never existed.
Robin pressed his fingers firmer against Zyr’s horn. “Take us back to the allotment.”