Chapter 7
“Lucan?”
The word is a fearful murmur from Evanthe’s lips as she blinks up at the bright Seelie sky.
“No, it’s me, Mother.” Ruskin kneels down beside her, his hands going to hers. “It’s Ruskin.”
Evanthe turns her head, her eyes focusing on him. She lifts her hand, and I think she’s going to touch his cheek, but instead she reaches past him and plucks one of the roses surrounding her, examining it with a frown.
“I remember…such pain…then darkness.” She lifts her gaze from the bloom to Ruskin, and I can see she has the same discerning light in her eyes that makes Ruskin’s looks so piercing. “It was dark for an age.”
“Yes, you’ve been asleep for a long time. But you’re safe now,” Ruskin says. His own words seem to hit him, and he hangs his head, letting out a sigh that sounds like the release of a thousand burdens.
Evanthe sits up, rising serene as a goddess from her bed of flowers. Now she puts her hand on Ruskin’s head, a gesture of tenderness that suddenly gives me a glimpse of what things might’ve been like when Ruskin was a child. It’s disconcerting. I’m so used to only seeing him as strong and powerful. I knew he cared for his mother—that much had been clear in the stories he told about her. But to see the happiness lighting up his face…it’s hard not to be moved. Hard not to want to smile at him, hug him, share in his joy. But that’s not my place anymore.
Evanthe glances at me, taking in my presence, and I avert my gaze and step away. I don’t want to intrude on this moment, not when Ruskin’s waited two hundred years for this day.
I’ve only given them the illusion of privacy, however. Bits of their conversation drift over to me as I examine the roses on the other side of the garden. I can hear Ruskin explaining how Evanthe came to be here and the betrayal that preceded it.
“It was Ilberon, wasn’t it?” Her voice is clear and even. Ruskin must nod or murmur some affirmative, because she continues. “And Cebba too?”
I still, my fingers absent-mindedly wrapped around a flower stem as I wait to see how she’ll respond. It’s one thing to learn of her husband’s treachery and death, but when she learns of her daughter’s fate…
No howl of rage or pain comes, though; no outburst like the destroyed room in Ruskin’s quarters. I risk a glance in their direction, and see Ruskin still talking as Evanthe sweeps tears from her cheeks, sparkling in the sunshine. I guess from her earlier words that she had a sense of the passage of time while she slept. Perhaps all of it at least feels like it happened a long time ago, the distance from those events helping to soften the blow of the terrible truths she must now come to accept.
Eventually, they rise and Ruskin leads Evanthe over to me. She’s tall like him, but she looks somehow small on his arm, frail and not yet fully steady on her feet.
Despite this, I find that I’m nervous, tugging at my dress to make sure it’s straight, wishing there was less mud at the hem. Yet when Evanthe sets eyes on me, I don’t feel like a bug under a magnifying glass like I expect. Her expression is soft and reassuring. When she offers me a small smile, I smile back, bobbing my head. It’s not quite a curtsey, but then I don’t know the protocols for humans meeting former fae queens.
“This is Eleanor Thorn, mother. She is the one who revived you from the iron sleep.”
Evanthe’s face remains pleasant, but a line forms between her brows.
“Forgive me, but you’re human, are you not?”
I nod. “Yes, my Lady.”
“Eleanor is most unusual,” Ruskin jumps in. “Her time in Faerie has awoken unexpected magic in her, and she has proven herself an invaluable ally to the crown.”
He says the last few words with his eyes on me, and I feel the admiration washing over me like a wave. After all, I have given him what he wanted most in this world. I feel an unexpected stab of discomfort, knowing he can’t do the same for me.
Evanthe watches us, one eyebrow raised.
“It seems that you have become friends.”
Ruskin appears, for once, unsure what to say. I answer for him, glad of my ability to gloss over the truth.
“Yes, good friends, my Lady. Ruskin helped me solve a problem of my own back in Styrland, and, of course, I was happy to return the favor.”
Ruskin gives me a look, and I know he’s remembering exactly how unhappy I was to do both of the tasks he’s asked of me.
Evanthe’s smile widens.
“Well, Ruskin, I see two hundred years have changed your outlook. I couldn’t get you to give humanity the time of day when I was trying to draft my treaty.”
“I wouldn’t put it exactly like that,” Ruskin says, shifting uncomfortably. I don’t immediately understand what Evanthe is referencing, but Ruskin’s reaction piques my interest.
“A treaty, my Lady?” I ask, aiming for polite curiosity.
“Yes. That was why I went to Styrland at first. I’d been eager to build bridges with the humans as I had done with our Unseelie kin. Ruskin was utterly against the idea, convinced that I was wasting my time reaching out to a society he deemed so…different to ours. But in his defense, most of the Seelie Court felt the same. And he’s clearly changed his mind since then.”
She studies me with a knowing glint in her eye. I suspect she’s already guessed there may be more between us than just friendship, and I hardly disprove the theory when I glare at Ruskin.
“Was ‘different’ the exact word you used, my Lord?” I emphasize the formal address, trying to balance my anger with making a good impression in front of Evanthe.
“No,” Ruskin says, and I can tell he’s weighing up how honest to be. He could dodge answering the question fully—but he seems to realize, entirely correctly, that that would only make me angrier. “I believe I said ‘inferior.’”
I nod, my suspicions confirmed. So not only did he genuinely believe my people were lesser than his, but he—like Cebba—wanted to stop his mother making peace with them. Cebba went about it in a more violent and destructive way by damning the leader of Styrland and her own mother, but Ruskin’s stance still hurts.
“Let’s not forget that soon after that, I decided a treaty with the human realm was a sensible proposition after all.” Ruskin’s tone is clipped, like he thinks this offsets any guilt on his part, like the past is something that can just be brushed away. But I think those old opinions aren’t as far gone as he’s trying to imply.
It would explain why it’s so easy for him to make his deals with humans, to kill those soldiers back in Styrland like they were no more than livestock. It would all make sense, if he values human lives less than fae ones. It’s hard to imagine you can really shake centuries of prejudice just like that. And even if there’s one, notable exception, in his ranking of our value, knowing Ruskin probably considers me more important than the rest of my species doesn’t really make me feel better.
“It seems much has changed in my absence,” Evanthe says evenly. I think she’s trying to diplomatically banish the awkward silence now stalling the conversation. From everything I’ve heard about her, from Ruskin and others, she’s the epitome of what you’d want in a queen—regal and fair.
“And much is about to change again,” Ruskin says. “The court will be overjoyed when they hear of your recovery. We can throw a banquet this evening to announce it.”
I’ve never heard of Ruskin actually looking forward to dining with the Seelie Court, but he seems even more excited by the idea than Evanthe. I notice dark shadows under her pretty eyes, and guess that she still feels a bit fragile after her ordeal.
“So soon?” I ask, hoping to hint to Ruskin that maybe he should let his mother rest.
Ruskin’s face shifts with understanding.
“I know it seems abrupt, but it’s important for stability that the court learns the High Queen has returned from the woman herself.”
“Except I’m not High Queen anymore,” Evanthe interjects. I guess Ruskin has explained to her how he had to remove her to put his name on the founding stone. No doubt she could feel it herself—the lack of connection she used to have with the realm.
“Only in the technical sense,” he says.
“You’re not planning on telling them?” I ask, finding myself surprised. I knew that he’d kept up the ruse all this time that he was the prince, not the king, but that was because he’d wanted to avoid divisions in the court, knowing there were some who would object to a half-Unseelie king. Now seems like the time to come clean, when he can assure everyone that Evanthe will be taking back over the throne.
“There’s no need,” Ruskin says confidently. “The transition of power will be smoother if they believe there is no transition, just mother returning to her rightful spot on the throne. After all,” he says, addressing Evanthe, “we will reinstate you on the stone soon enough, once you’ve got your strength back.”
“And my lack of High Monarch powers in the meantime?” she asks, sounding skeptical. “Won’t the court be suspicious?”
“We can attribute that to you still needing time to regain full strength after your ordeal. That’s true, at least.”
Something crosses Evanthe’s face, then disappears again, and I sense Evanthe has doubts, though I don’t know if they’re about the deception, the banquet, or her own capabilities after her attack.
“I imagine you may want a moment to yourself now, my Lady, to let it all sink in?” I suggest.
She throws me a grateful look. “Yes, thank you, Miss Thorn. I think that would be wise.”
Together we lead her out of the rose garden and through Ruskin’s quarters.
“Will you wait here?” Ruskin asks me, pausing in the corridor. “There’s a way through my rooms to the queen’s wing, which means she won’t be seen but?—”
“Please, Ruskin, I’m quite capable of getting myself there,” Evanthe says, gently extricating herself from his arm. “I’ve lived in this palace longer than you, remember.”
I stifle a laugh at Ruskin’s expression. It’s not a million miles from the one he wore when Dad was telling him off. It seems parents might be Ruskin’s big weakness.
When Evanthe has taken herself away, Ruskin goes to summon Halima, and I have a moment to myself. I stop to consider what Ruskin said about Faerie being a good fit for me. It had sounded like he was insinuating I should stay. That maybe he wanted me to stay. But then why not just say that?
Because you made it clear that you want nothing to do with him, says the little voice at the back of my mind. And that’s true. I don’t see any future for me with Ruskin, not now that the trust between us has broken. And since I can’t seem to stop feeling drawn to him, that means I need to get away from him as soon as I can. I’ve done what I’ve come here to do, and so when Ruskin returns with Halima, I know exactly what I’m going to say.
“Great, you’re back. Now, if you can tell me when you’re going to make your visit to Albrecht, then I can make my way to the gate.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Ruskin says, challenge brewing in his eyes.
I’m ready for this fight and quickly open my mouth to argue. He gets there first.
“I’ll escort you to the gate and back to your father. Then I’ll deal with Albrecht.”
“Fine,” I bite out. I’d certainly prefer to get distance from him right away, but there’s no denying that my trip back to my father will go faster and be safer with him rather than on my own. “Let’s get going, then.”
He holds up a hand.
“After the banquet.”
I fight the urge to groan…because I can see the logic. The day is already drawing on and Ruskin’s attendance is kind of essential. If something delayed him while he was hopping through another realm and he wasn’t able to get back to Faerie in time, it would complicate things.
“I’ll wait in the library,” I say. I’m tired from the meticulous magic I performed on Evanthe, and the squashy armchairs in there seem as good a place as any to nap while I wait to say goodbye to this place for good.