Chapter 28 Seneschal
SENESCHAL
SAERIS
MY EARS WERE ringing.
The air was full of dust.
I opened my mouth wide, working it side to side, unsure of why it was hurting so badly. My throat was raw. Fuck, the back of my head was hurting, too. Why was I on the ground? And where—
The quicksilver was awake.
Holy fucking gods.
I jumped up, my back screaming, hip thrumming with pain.
Broken chunks of stone cut into my bare feet, but I hobbled forward, reaching for my power, unthinking.
I had to get it closed. Worry sang through me—a plucked string, vibrating in my chest. How long had it been open?
It felt like only moments. I had been in the pool, and then I’d hit the wall.
I—
Oh, gods. Something was coming through. The quicksilver reacted quickly when I called it now, quietly, but I was asking it to do something that it could not do. The gate couldn’t close while someone was traveling through it. No one had ever told me that. I just knew it now.
I had to wait.
The crown of a dark head of hair appeared first.
Black waves.
Pale skin.
My panic began to subside.
But then . . .
I knew the face.
I had seen it only once before, but it had stayed with me. The male had barely spoken to me, but I recalled his words all too well. “Do you not bow before a king, creature?”
I couldn’t remember his name. He had sat next to Belikon up on the dais, outraged that I had not shown the proper deference to his master. What had Belikon called him? Orith? Arriash?
The male was tall and rail thin, his nose crooked, his chin square and jutting. With his skin crinkled like old, thin paper and lank black strands of hair falling into his face, he didn’t project a sense of health. In fact, he looked pretty damned unwell.
“Ah. Saeris Fane.” He clicked blackened teeth together. “Thank you for so graciously leaving the door open for us. We’ve been waiting for an invitation into Ammontraíeth for a very long time. You may remember me. My name is Orious. I am seneschal to the king.”
A thick chain hung around his neck, a golden orb dangling from it. The male clutched it tightly, his bony fingers clamped around it as if worried someone would try to steal it from him.
“What the hell is a seneschal?” I asked.
The male, Orious, shuttled the orb along his chain thoughtfully. “I am an advisor. My remit is broad. I attend to matters on behalf of the king that are . . . beneath him.”
The implication was clear: Whatever had brought this anemic-looking fucker through the quicksilver today wasn’t important enough to bring Belikon here himself. I wasn’t important enough. I nodded to myself. “Ahhh, right. Where I come from, we call those bootlickers.”
“Watch your tongue, girl. You’ll wish you’d made a friend of me soon enough.”
“I prefer my friends a little less creepy. You’re not welcome here, Orious,” I said. “Go back the way you came.”
The male tittered softly, sweeping a greasy lock of hair behind one ear as he stepped out of the pool and onto the cracked marble floor.
“I don’t think that’s on the agenda, I’m afraid.
You see, my friends and I have always wanted to travel.
” His voice took on a tight, sinister edge.
“And my master bid me come treat with you.”
He sprang from the edge of the pool, arms spread wide, like some kind of pouncing would-be predator.
Behind him, rising from the quicksilver, came two more figures, then three more: Fae guards dressed in green velvet, with arrows nocked in their bows.
Their eyes were sharp, pupils dilated wide, leaving no room for their irises.
“This is Blood Court land. Belikon has no sovereignty here. I reign over this—”
“Stop.” Orious gave a bored flick of his wrist. “Don’t bore me with such ridiculousness.
You’re naught but an inexperienced little girl, trapped in a prison of her own making.
You don’t want to be here. The high bloods don’t want you here.
It would benefit you to listen and take heed when I speak.
My liege has sent me here with an offer for you. ”
He spoke with confidence but didn’t come any closer. The guards behind him stood in a line, their arrows pointed at my head.
“I’m not interested in offers from Belikon De Barra.”
King Belikon,” Orious barked, “has graciously sent me here with terms. Personally, it makes no difference to me if you hear them. It’s no skin off my nose. But you may regret not listening to the generous offer he bid me present to you very soon.”
“What could I possibly need from him?”
“Sanasroth is a barren wasteland. This court you have declared your own is comprised of genteel high bloods who like to throw parties and sip blood out of jeweled chalices. But watch how quickly their manners fail them when their food supply is cut off, Your Highness. See how fast they devolve into the monsters the second the blood runs out. Are you prepared to deal with the aftermath of that scenario? Hm?”
Had Belikon kept Malcolm’s court fed under his reign?
Fisher hadn’t said anything about that before.
Neither had Renfis. It didn’t seem likely, but the cruel light in this male’s eyes said otherwise.
“I’m sure you’ve noticed by now,” he said, “but a strange canker spreads across the South Lands. Black rot swallows the vegetation. It affects the wildlife here in the most shocking way. Deer, wolves, bears. It infects them quickly. Death is unavoidable, it seems. It’s too late for these lands .
. . but my master would provide shelter and protection from the spread of this vile disease.
He offers safe harbor at the Winter Palace for you, in exchange for a small number of concessions on your end. ”
“Let me guess. He has a vacancy for an Alchemist and thinks I’d make a fine addition to his court?” The words, my tone: Everything about what I’d just said left a sour taste in my mouth.
Orious smirked, his lips thinning. “Fine. Yes, a fine addition indeed. Your services would be a small part of the payment required to ensure your safety. And you would be the jewel in his crown, so to speak. You would be showered with fine clothes. Fine food. Fine wines—”
“What else?” I demanded, cutting him off. “What else does he seek in exchange for a safety he cannot provide?”
Behind the intruder, a bowstring creaked, and one of the Winter Palace guards swallowed thickly. In his loose black robes, Orious smiled. “My king wishes his beloved daughter returned to him. He misses her dearly. It wounds his heart to know she is unwell and far from his loving care.”
“And?”
“Kingfisher. In shackles. A public execu—”
I drew Solace. The air hummed with crackling power as I unleashed her naked steel. The stranger stopped talking, tapping his index finger impatiently against his thumb pad.
“There are other things, of course. Smaller, inconsequential acts, each of them a show of good faith. In light of your recent transition, you are now half Fae, and would be required to swear an oath before the Firinn Stone—”
“I will not be a tool for that bastard to use whenever he sees fit,” I seethed.
It was laughable—the fact that he had come here with such an outrageous list of demands.
Had Belikon really thought I would agree to any of this?
“I will not be swearing any oaths. And no one will be harming a single fucking hair on my mate’s head. My friends and I—”
“Your friends? Oh, yes, that’s right.” The bastard laughed, stepping closer.
“Your friends. Let’s see, shall we? Renfis of the Orrithian?
An oath-sworn general in King Belikon’s army.
Lorreth of the Broken Spire? Also an oath-sworn soldier in my master’s army.
Your darling mate . . .” The smirk twisted his features, turning him into something evil.
“Oath sworn,” he whispered. “My master will have them all. They are his to do with as he wishes. But you . . .” He extended a long, crooked finger toward me.
“Reject my master’s generous offer, and you will die here in this room. ”
Oath sworn.
The fucking Firinn Stone. Lorreth had told me all about it once—how they knelt before it when they came of age and pledged to be bound by their word on pain of death for the rest of their lives.
For honor’s sake. This bastard was right: Every single member of the Fae who fought and defended the banks of the Darn at Irrín had pledged to serve the Winter Palace—to serve Belikon—my friends and my mate included.
We were so fucked.
But an oath was like a bargain. There were loopholes. Language to be manipulated. There had to be a way out of the pledge of fealty they had made. For now, I raised Solace, feeling the air grow heavy around the blade as I held it aloft.
“The king also requires the return of that sword,” Orious added. “Your obsidian palace is full of rats, Saeris. They whisper in the dark. They tell tales of how the new queen of the Blood Court cannot wield her weapon. Of how Saeris Fane cannot contain her power. Runes unsealed and—”
I twisted the sword and showed the fucker the flat of the blade.
Coincidentally, the movement also showed him the back of my hand.
Which was still covered in a mass of runes, yes .
. . but now, at the center of my shield, a single, bold, circular rune bisected with an arrow-like shape glowed brilliant blue.
The smug smile died on Orious’s lips. “Fuck,” he whispered.
“Yeah. Fuck.”
I’d planned to reforge Solace into something more manageable, but I hadn’t yet had the time.
That no longer mattered. I didn’t need a forge anymore.
Would never need one again. A door had unlocked within me.
Behind it, a vast knowledge waited there for me.
It belonged to me, as I now belonged to the quicksilver.
I only had to think now, and the fabric of reality shifted.