I nodded, and he laid a fatherly hand on my shoulder, eliciting the same response that had washed over me at the station house—the desire to collapse against him, to give up my burdens and feel safe within the shelter of his arms. But I resisted, holding on stringently to my poise, and he finished his thought.
“Magic or no, Anya, there is Fae nature deep within your cousin. It is to that we must trust.”
The forceful opening of the bedroom door drew all eyes, and Luka’s hand dropped to the pistol at his hip. But it was hope, not alarm, that surged inside me, for salvation had arrived. Tom stood just inside the room, a flask of Sale clutched in one hand.
“Officer Matlock, this is most irregular,” the Governor berated him, rising to his feet, Konstantin adding his own growl. I had the feeling Wolfram was accustomed to using his height and broad-shouldered build to intimidate people.
“It’s all right, Father,” Luka appeased, crossing the room to take the Sale. The Governor might not have caught on to the reason for the Constabulary’s arrival, but little escaped his son.
“But what is he doing here?” the Governor continued. “This part of the mansion is off-limits.”
“Answer the question, Tom,” Luka directed, striding to Zabriel’s side without waiting for his officer’s response. He lifted Zabriel’s head and shoulders, and I climbed onto the bed to cradle my cousin against my chest and provide support. Given the Governor’s apparent black-and-white approach to the law, I was afraid he would protest, would try to stop us from administering the healing tonic. I met the Lieutenant Governor’s eyes, and it struck me that Luka was plagued by the same worry and was using Tom to keep the Governor’s focus elsewhere.
“I’ve brought Sale, sir,” Tom explained, and Luka poured a small amount of the drink into the Prince’s mouth, watching to ensure he had swallowed. “I took some items to the evidence room in keeping with my job, and pocketed this on my way out. No one has reason to suspect anything.”
Luka administered several more sips to Zabriel, then set the Sale on a small table next to the bed.
“Now we wait,” he announced for the benefit of everyone in the room.
I nodded, gazing at my cousin for some sign of improvement, though I knew Sale did not work instantaneously. And its healing power brought its own ordeal. When a healthy Faerie drank the substance, tendrils of its warmth would spread throughout the body, causing a pleasant tingling sensation that awoke the senses and the spirit. But when one was injured or sick, the warmth would seek out the cause and core of the problem, strangling infection as one might wring water from a rag. The more severe a wound or illness, the more acute the sensations—searing heat, spasms of pain, even convulsions if the work of the Sale wasn’t isolated to a specific part of the body.
“Well?” the Governor demanded, turning his attention to us. “When will we know if it’s working?”
“He won’t die,” I muttered under my breath. I caught Luka’s fleeting smile, and knew he had heard my comment. Raising the volume of my voice, I expressly addressed Wolfram. “He’ll become restless. Instead of this lethargy, he’ll exhibit signs of pain, though the pain will come from healing and is necessary and good. No matter how it appears, we must keep giving him the Sale, a few sips every hour. The more he has in his system, the more quickly he’ll recover.”
“Understood,” Luka responded, his eyes catching Tom’s movement as the young man pivoted to leave the room. “One moment, Officer Matlock. How did you know we had need of Sale?”
My breath caught, and I tightened my good hand around the collar of Zabriel’s nightshirt.
“I knew you were considering its use. And I was aware of Anya’s—that is, Princess Anya’s—presence in the mansion. It seemed to me the time was right.” He shrugged. “Either that or I’m clairvoyant.”
Luka laughed, the Governor scowled, I smiled...and Zabriel moaned.
“Dismissed,” Luka abruptly finished. “And not a word of this to anyone.”
“Yes, sir.”
I accepted a damp sponge from Luka, aware from the click of the door that Tom had departed, and wiped sweat off my cousin’s brow and neck. I was rewarded with flickers of movement behind his closed eyelids.
“Zabriel,” I murmured, resisting the urge to shake him. “It’s Anya. I’m here, and you’re going to feel better in no time.”
His mouth moved and his dark eyes opened to momentarily fix on my face.
“Nice hair,” he whispered. Then he was lost once more to the fever.
I laughed, elated, and met Luka’s relieved gaze.
“He’s going to be fine, just fine.” Then I looked to the Governor, who had retaken his seat in the armchair on the other side of Zabriel’s bed. “You made the right decision about the Sale, Wolfram. It’s illegal because it can be used to take human life, but in this instance, its properties restored life. Because the wound was inflicted with sky iron, it appears nothing else could have done that.”
He inclined his head slightly. “I appreciate your insight. You are wise beyond your years.”
“I quite agree,” Luka exclaimed, briskly rubbing his hands together, the mood in the room noticeably brighter. “Now then, I will inform our physician to once more take over the Prince’s care. And, Anya, you should go with my father—I suspect he’ll want to review with you the plans for Queen Ubiqua’s stay.”
My eyes widened in shock at the very suggestion I should leave Zabriel. I opened my mouth to object, but Luka held up his hand.
“I know you want to stay with him, but he needs rest, and now is not the time to draw attention to this part of the mansion. Don’t fret—I’ll bring you to see him again tonight.”
I fidgeted, wanting to argue with him. Though I really could not dispute his reasoning, I didn’t like the situation in the least. In the end, however, I nodded, aware that I was forming a love–hate relationship with Luka Ivanova.
The Lieutenant Governor departed, and for all intents and purposes, I found myself alone with Wolfram Ivanova. I slid out from behind Zabriel to stand next to the bed, and carefully piled pillows underneath his head and shoulders, waiting for the Governor to indicate we should leave. When he did not seem inclined to do so, I glanced awkwardly around the room, uncertain of the reason we were delaying and having no idea how to open a conversation with him. He was a human man nearing his seventies, while I was a sixteen-year-old female Fae—our backgrounds, experiences, and cultures were worlds apart.
At length, the Governor met my eyes, an unexpected touch of sadness in his expression.
“Tell me about my grandson,” he invited. “About his childhood and upbringing. I’ve missed so much, and it would help me to know him better.”
I was strangely touched by the request, and it was simple enough for me to fulfill. Zabriel in his youth was an easy subject for me to address. There were many stories about my bold, independent, and rule-defying cousin. So long as Wolfram didn’t ask me about Zabriel’s pirating life, I could talk for days.
“Let me see.” I considered for a moment, then launched into the tale of how my cousin became the youngest Fae anyone could remember to take the plummet from the Crag. The Governor settled back in his armchair to listen, a smile for once gracing his features.
* * *
The Governor and I ate a light lunch together, still discussing his grandson, in a brilliantly sun-lit solarium with fragrant greenery all around. I now understood how he could decorate the mansion with blooms from flowers that should have been out of season. For a man with a gruff exterior, he had some very refined interests.
When lunch concluded, he escorted me to his office to meet with the Fae Ambassadors, neither of whom was well-known to me, for they had held their positions since before I was born and generally returned to Chrior but once a year. They reported to my father on happenings in the Territ
ory, the political climate, military maneuvers, and the criminal element, attempting to monitor the level of danger that might be posed to Fae. My father, in turn, passed on the information he thought important to the Queen. For the first time, I wondered how the ambassadors could have missed Zabriel’s wanted poster. Did they not know the Prince well enough to catch the likeness?
The Governor’s cherry-paneled office was larger than my entire alcove in the Great Redwood, with a thick gold carpet, shelves of books, walls hung with war memorabilia, and portraits of his ancestors. There was also a portrait of Konstantin and several of the pup’s ancestors. It appeared that the Governor had long coveted this particular breed of dog.
Right on cue, Konstantin entered with a servant who bore wine on a silver tray, then took his place on a circular cushion to the side of the Governor’s gold-inlaid desk. Apparently very little work was done in the mansion without the accompaniment of drink—or, in Wolfram Ivanova’s case, the dog.
Ambassador Aster was tall and dignified, with a hint of fleshiness beneath her traditional Fae garments—a sage-green floor-length gown, decorated with colorful embroidery and cinched in with a braided rope belt. Her slate-blue wings tinged with pale yellow were visible and partially unfurled. The smile with which she greeted me was less warm than I thought it would be, given the lack of royal visitors to the Warckum Territory, and the slight furrow in her brow suggested she did not approve of my choice of hair color. Faeries, as a rule, did not dye their hair, believing the natural state was best in most things. This was likewise the reason women generally did not cut their hair, true also of highly traditional Fae men. Given the number of years Ambassador Aster had spent among the humans, I would have expected her to have embraced more aspects of their culture.
The second of the Fae representatives to the Warckum Territory, Ambassador Oersted, was almost the total opposite of his counterpart. A tad shorter and more rotund, he was dressed in a russet coat and black trousers, styled in the fashion of prominent male humans. His smile and handshake were enthusiastic, and his dark hair, cut to fall near the cheekbones, showed gray only at the temples. He could have passed for human if not for his headdress of twined roots and his black wings with haphazard orange bands of varying widths. It didn’t surprise me that he was a full ten years younger than Ambassador Aster.
The Governor settled into his high-backed desk chair, while I sat in an armchair on the opposite side of him from Konstantin—although I knew this was an honor, it was strange to be occupying a position similar to the dog, a feeling Luka appeared to know well. The ambassadors took up seats facing the Governor in chairs placed in front of his desk.
After exchanging news of my father and aunt with the Fae representatives, the conversation turned to the food and drink to be served at the reception Queen Ubiqua would be given upon her arrival, one of the few decisions yet to be finalized. Although both of the ambassadors could see I had lost my wings, neither commented on it, for which I was extremely grateful. I would have to give details of the ordeal soon enough to my family, and talking about it was still difficult.
“I maintain my previous assertion that you should serve traditional Fae delicacies only,” Ambassador Aster declared. “This is one occasion when humans should show honor by adopting our traditions. Wine and ale can suffice as beverages, although, of course, Sale is our celebratory drink. On the occasion of this auspicious event, you might consider suspending the ban against it so that it can at least be offered to the Queen and those attending her.”
My eyes widened at this bold request, although the Governor’s expression did not change.
“And what have you to say?” he asked, directing the question to Ambassador Oersted.
“My opinion has mellowed somewhat. I agree that Fae delicacies should be served, but see no harm in offering them alongside human dishes. Both cultures can acknowledge that of the other. And while Sale is our traditional drink, you don’t have to suspend your laws to accommodate us, although I’m sure such a gesture would be appreciated.”
The Governor rubbed his salt-and-pepper beard, considering. Then to my surprise, he turned to me. Knowing his almost violent reaction to the use of Sale, I wasn’t about to assert that the drink be served, whatever the circumstances, and I found myself siding with Ambassador Oersted on the subject of the meal.
“I think it would be appropriate to serve both Fae and human foods, but would recommend wine and apple cider for beverages. Ale if that is a human preference, although it’s not a drink with which we Fae are accustomed. Sale is not necessary, and the serving of it could be disastrous if it accidentally ended up in the cup of a human.”
The Governor gave me a fleeting smile. “Then the decision is made. I thank you all for your wise counsel but will follow Anya’s suggestion since it is in line with my own thoughts.”
“One other issue, then, Governor.” It was Ambassador Oersted who had spoken; Ambassador Aster was busy giving me a death glare. Reacting to her intemperate mood, Konstantin gave a low rumbling growl, causing her to flinch. “Will music be included to honor the occasion?”
“Yes, I had thought trumpet blasts upon the Queen’s entrance, followed by soft string instruments during the formal dinner.”
“Might I suggest harps in the background instead of violins and such? The musical selections would be of your choice, naturally.”
“That can be arranged. Anything else?”
“Yes,” I hastily interjected. Konstantin’s presence had reminded me of a certain peculiarity of Queen Ubiqua’s, one I dreaded to mention but knew I must. “The Queen doesn’t particularly like dogs.”
All eyes in the room fixated on me, and I felt as if I had just set off an explosion. Perhaps in a way I had, for the impression I was receiving was that the questioning of Konstantin’s participation in any event involving the Governor was akin to committing suicide.
“No,” Wolfram resolutely stated, his heavy black brows drawing close. “In this instance, Queen Ubiqua will have to adjust.”
“Of course,” I fumbled, aware of the mistake I had made. “I should not have brought it up. I’m sorry.”
“No harm in the suggestion, Anya,” the Governor returned, his expression less forbidding. “But on this I stand firm.”
Since there was nothing more to be discussed, the meeting concluded, the ambassadors respectfully taking their leave. I played with the folds of my dress, knowing I should likewise depart but not wanting to return to my bedroom—Luka’s office was also on the second floor, putting me in much too close proximity to Tom Matlock.
“Excuse me, Wolfram,” I hesitantly interrupted.
He looked up from the papers he was shuffling on his desk, a flicker of irritation crossing his face. “Is there something you need?”
“There’s nothing I need, but something for me to do would be nice.”
“I see.” He sat back in his chair, then motioned for his personal secretary to approach. “Escort the Princess back to the solarium and introduce her to my gardener. Perhaps she can assist him in some way.”
“Yes, Governor.” The man approached, motioning with his hand for me to walk in front of him. “This way, please.”
“Thank you, Wolfram,” I said, sneaking a peek at the papers on top of his desk, wondering what work had him so occupied. To my surprise, I saw a design for a poster of the sort I had seen when I had stayed in the hospital in Tairmor, and I threw a hand over my mouth to stifle a giggle. Apparently, the Governor himself was the mastermind behind FAE not FOE: Faerie Rights Are Human Rights, and other slogans promoting positive Fae–human relations in the Warckum Territory.
The servant did indeed introduce me to the gardener, who was most welcoming of my interest. The rest of the afternoon passed pleasantly, I enjoying the feel of the dirt, the sun on my face, and the heady scents that hung in the air. Despite the loss of my wings,
I was Fae, and I had spent too long in this human city that did its best to eradicate the spirit of Nature that was central to Fae life, to my life. And given the events on the horizon, I thought it might be one of the few moments of relaxation I would be afforded before the storms broke: the one that had been simmering between Zabriel and his mother since the day he had fled Chrior, and the one that had been building between the Queen and the Governor for nearly eighteen years.
Chapter Fourteen
RESURRECTION
After a very formal evening meal with the Governor and his son, Luka was true to his word and took me to see Zabriel. He was sitting up in bed when I entered, and some color had returned to his cheeks. On a tray atop his nightstand was a half-eaten loaf of bread and an empty bowl that had probably contained soup. The flask of Sale furnished by Officer Matlock and some painkillers provided by the doctor were also at hand.
“I’ve brought you a visitor,” Luka said, leading me to the side of my cousin’s bed, though my preference would have been to break into an undignified run. My body was tingling with the euphoria I was feeling—Zabriel was not only alive; he was recovering more quickly than even I would have thought possible.
“And you are?” Zabriel’s smirk and his lackadaisical manner tempered my enthusiasm, though both were likely due to Luka’s presence at my side—Zabriel’s experiences with the Lieutenant Governor would have been more negative than mine. Nonetheless, I responded in a similarly cavalier manner.
“You shouldn’t tease someone who is stronger than you. And right now, that’s almost everybody.”
Luka cleared his throat to draw our attention. “It doesn’t appear you two need me, so I’ll grant you some privacy. I’m sure you have many things to discuss. And, Anya, though I doubt you’ll want to leave, do me the courtesy of staying here until I return for you.”
“I will, and thank you.” I gave him a brilliant smile, grateful he was willing to leave us alone. His presence would have hampered my ability to speak openly to Zabriel about certain matters, and while my esteem for the man was growing, I wasn’t willing to trust him fully.