CHAPTER 26
The tray bobbed in the servant’s hands, tea spilling from the pot and soaking the lace napkin beneath it. That, and the rattling teacups, drew the attention of two passing hobs who didn’t recognize the urisk, but his glare effectively silenced their questions.
He worked to keep his hands steady. The more he faded into the background, the better.
Perhaps he should have just used an invisibility cloak, but he had to gain access to Bristol’s room in the quietest manner possible.
He couldn’t just barge his way in. She might put up a fight.
Tea and sweet biscuits, on the other hand, were always a welcome gift.
It hadn’t been easy to find out which room belonged to her, but he managed to pry it from a sprite in the garden for the price of a sugar cube.
Of all the rooms in the whole sprawling palace, Bristol’s was conveniently close to Tyghan’s. He wasn’t surprised.
Reggie curled on the chaise next to Bristol.
She had given her fox a name after learning from Tyghan that he was a real fox from a real forest somewhere in Elphame.
Woven from the mind’s eye of the artist, some clever creatures, like Reggie, managed to breach the veil of the artist’s imagination, burrowing into the carpet that was the artist’s canvas.
Freeloader, Tyghan had called him. Bristol thought he deserved a more dignified name, like Reggie.
He nudged her hand—not for food but for more scratches behind his tufted red ears.
He had adopted Bristol, and maybe she had adopted him too, both of them adapting to a foreign world.
She brushed her hand over his soft fur, and he nuzzled closer.
Angus was amusing, but their ferret had never been a cuddler, and she had never had any other pets.
She liked the comfort of this creature who had barged into her life, and she mused about getting Harper a dog when she got home. Or could she bring Reggie?
“I need to finish getting ready,” she warned him, gently easing his sleepy head aside.
She went to the bath chamber, tidying up her towels and bath balms, and spotted her pills, which she hadn’t put away the night before.
She may have told Tyghan she was the goddess of birth control, but Harper was the brilliant one who made it so.
She still had three weeks of pills left, just enough to hold her over until she got home.
She remembered when Harper frantically brought them to her, trying to think of everything she might need for her trip to faerie.
She smiled. The sardines and rock-hard raisins had been tossed long ago—the aspirin too, since it was no longer effective on her—but it was nice having her own familiar toothbrush with the swirl of blue and white bristles.
She saw Harper every time she used it. It was pretty much all she had from home now, except for her old jeans and tank top stuffed on the top shelf of the wardrobe.
She began brushing her hair and had just swept it over her shoulder to braid when she heard a knock.
She wasn’t expecting anyone, and had agreed to meet her fellow recruits at the barn for the short walk to the funeral site.
But then she remembered the message she had sent.
Maybe this was a reply from the Lumessa?
She eagerly opened the door, but it was only a hunched servant with a tray, a urisk she had never seen before.
Reggie scurried away and hid in his burrow, transforming from full-bodied back into art.
He was always shy with visitors—he only recently warmed up to Tyghan—but he was usually bold with servants bearing trays of food.
“My lunch was already delivered this afternoon,” she said.
“This one was ordered by the king.” He brushed past her toward the table, the dishes rattling unsteadily in his hands.
“Tyghan ordered this?” she asked as he set the tray down.
“No,” he answered. “The real king of Danu ordered it. King Cael Trénallis.” As he turned, his hunched back straightened, and his haunches and horns disappeared, along with the rest of his glamour.
It was Cael, standing taller and stronger than he had yesterday—and far more imposing in the confines of her room.
Bristol reached for her knife.
“I’m only here to apologize,” he said.
“Gaining entry disguised as a urisk?”
“I’ve been told that my return to Danu must be kept quiet, and with palace gossips—” He raised his brows. “I’m forced to be discreet. I’m only here to express my regret for my behavior yesterday.”
“Under threat from Tyghan?”
He chuckled. “You know him well. Yes, he provided inspired prompting that included wrapping his hands around my throat. But I do wish to apologize on my own initiative as well. Really, I am not a total boor. You need to understand that yesterday, after months of only savage brutes for company, I responded in kind.”
“As I understand it, you’ve always been a demanding pain in the ass.”
He smiled. “Ah. That came from my brother too, no doubt. He’s right.
I am a pain in the ass. And I demand a lot of him.
Sometimes probably too much. The thing is, there is no manual on how a king should behave, especially when the role is foisted on you when you’re only twelve.
I didn’t have a parent to study. I’m not making excuses, but early on, you learn that shouting covers a lot of ignorance and insecurities. May I?” he asked, lifting the teapot.
Bristol eyed the pot and the two teacups. He came for tea? She cautiously nodded. “Does Tyghan know you’re here?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. By now, perhaps. He’s busy with duties. But as I mentioned, he bade me to take care of this matter.”
He poured them each a cup and added a cube of sugar to the deep pink brew, then motioned to her chair.
She sat opposite him at the small table, always aware of how far her hand was from the hilt of her knife.
Or if need be, with the flick of her fingers, she could set his hair on fire.
Though she was leery of summoning even the smallest spark now, after her disastrous results with her bathtub and singed ceiling.
It seemed she had developed an unreliable kinship with fire.
She noted that Cael had been groomed since yesterday, his hair freshly cut and his face clean-shaven, hardly looking like the same man at all.
He bore the same strong Trénallis jawline and searing eyes, though his were a deep brown.
The split lip he had acquired on the ride back was gone, and the dark smudges beneath his eyes had nearly faded.
The scars on his chin and neck were gone too.
Madame Chastain had apparently been hard at work restoring his health and appearance, but he still had weight and strength to regain.
She noticed his hand tremble as he lifted the small teapot.
He took a sip of the floral tea, looking over the rim of his cup at her. His eyes were warm and arresting, unlike the bloodshot, unfocused ones from yesterday. His gaze moved to her untouched tea. “It’s not poisoned. I promise.”
“You did order my execution.”
He reached across the table and took her cup, taking a healthy sip, then returned it to her saucer.
“Again, I was not myself then.” He sighed.
“I might not be myself for some time to come, at least according to the High Witch. Having been isolated with a collar around my neck for so long left me with the impulsive mouth of a clod, but it’s important that I thank you for rescuing me—at great risk to yourself.
I’m sorry I didn’t recognize that immediately.
Fear and anger have ruled my small world for months now.
I’ve lost all perspective. But I want you to know that what I told you yesterday about your mother is true.
I never heard or saw her in any of my travels, especially not when I was twelve.
I didn’t even know of her existence until years later, when the attacks began.
That much I swear is true. I tried to tell her that whenever she visited, but she wouldn’t listen. ”
“She visited you often?”
He nodded. “Kormick only came to Queen’s Cliff twice the whole time I was there, but she came regularly, maybe once a week.
I lost track of the days in that dirty cell, but she always asked me how it felt to be trapped and know that no one was coming to rescue me.
She’d watch me, waiting for me to break.
Some days I thought I would. Nothing I said could appease her.
I don’t know what your mother has been through or how much is a conjuring of her own imagination, but I was not part of it. ”
He took another slow sip of his tea, his eyes studying her again. Bristol’s tea remained untouched.
“But your father . . . What you said about me laughing him out of the throne room, I’m afraid, is true, and for that I’m sorry.
I’m not sure why I did it—selfishness, I suppose.
Your father was a good knight—no, he was a great knight.
And considering he was mortal, he was a wonder.
That’s what everyone called him, the wonder of Danu, and I didn’t want to lose him.
I knew Tyghan wouldn’t want to lose him either.
” He reached out, plucking another cube of sugar from the bowl, and stirred it into his tea, staring at a few loose leaves swirling on top.
“Tyghan was closer to Kierus than he was to me.”
She heard a thread of regret in his voice, but then he perked back up, looking at her again.
“I really did think art was a passing fancy for your father. Who would want to leave such a revered position behind?” He rose, and she did at the same time, watchful of his higher advantage, but he only walked over to a painting hanging on her wall.
He examined the serene pastoral scene. “I understand it was art that brought you to Danu in the first place.”
“How would you know that?”
“The Royal Counselor and High Witch told me what transpired during my absence. A da Vinci, I believe. Ironic, don’t you think, that art is what took Kierus away from Danu, but also what brought his daughter back?
” His finger ran along the frame of the painting.
“Although your motives were more mercenary than creative.”
Bristol’s spine stiffened.
He turned, his eyes inching over her in a leisurely, familiar fashion.
He took a step closer. “I can see why Tyghan is smitten with you. You’re as alluring as your mother.
But his interest surprises me too, considering who you are.
He’s usually more cautious. One thing I have to ask . . . Did you cast a spell over him?”
Her fingers twitched, brushing her knife’s leather scabbard, a warning for him not to step closer. “You’ve twisted it around, I’m afraid. He’s the one who cast a spell on me. You need to work on your delivery, Your Majesty. Your apology had a convincing start but a weak finish.”
He shook his head. “I’ve insulted you. I’m a clumsy oaf. Again, I’m very sorry. I had no intention of inferring—”
“I’d stop while you’re ahead. As my parents—both of whom I know you greatly admire—always told me, read the room, and read it again before you open your mouth.”
He nodded, a hint of a grin pulling at the corners of his mouth. “I am king of Danu. Soon to be king of Elphame,” he said, as if trying to remind her of her place. “But noted. In spite of my blunders, you and I are going to be friends, Bristol Keats.”
And with that, he slowly hunched over, his glamour back in place, and shuffled out the door.