Poison 15 & 16

[maderr]

Chapter Fifteen


Ailill opened his eyes at the sound of movement to see Ivan pulling on his shirt as he left the bedroom. Such a pity, to cover up something as fine as that broad, muscled chest…though these days he was nearly too tired to appreciate it properly.

Just a couple more days…Ailill tried not to think about it. They had to find Noire, and hope that in two days they would all still be alive. The other possibility…he could not bear to think on. He just could not. In two days he would drag Ivan to bed, sleep for a week, and then stay there doing other things for at least another week. With the gods newly restored, the world could live without the White Panther for a little while.

Ivan sat down beside him on the sofa and Ailill immediately leaned into him, soaking up the constant heat that Ivan put off. He wondered sometimes if all Pozharians were made of flame, somehow, rather than just simple flesh and blood. He knew better, of course, but the thought popped up anyway.

“So where are we headed today, lover?” Ivan asked, voice still heavy with sleep.

Ailill lifted his head enough to take a good morning kiss, Ivan’s goatee scratching, tickling, the familiarity of it somehow comforting, soothing. “Breakfast first,” he said, motioning absently to the table in front of them. Not interested in sitting properly at the table across the room, he’d just had the servants set the tray on the low table before the sofa. The smells of creamy porridge and fresh cinnamon bread wafted up at him, but as tired and hungry as he was, Ailill was far more interested in the mouth that fit so perfectly with his. Ivan kissed him slowly, still more asleep than awake.

Which all by itself said how worn they both were. Ivan was usually quick to wake – only a long, active night in bed or particularly draining work usually resulted in him waking this slowly.

“I hope, lover, that after all this is over we do not have to leave our bed for a long time.”

Ailill chuckled. “My thoughts exactly. Eat. The more we stall, the harder it will be to finally move.”

Groaning, Ivan gave him one more sleepy kiss and then obeyed, handing Ailill a bowl of porridge before devouring his own. He was awake and alert by the time he finished it and reached for his tea – brewed as dark as Verde tea got, still falling far short of the dark, rich tea favored by Pozhar. ‘Real tea’ Ivan called his native style, always making Ailill smile.

Ailill finished his own porridge mechanically, then reached for the bread, softening it by dunking it in the tea – something else that made Ivan grimace. By the time they were finished, he felt slightly more human, if still fully prepared to climb back into bed and not move for a week.

There would be time for that later. He refused to believe any different.

“Where shall we go?” Ailill asked with a yawn.

Ivan shrugged. “I am running out of ideas,” he said, frustration showing in the set of his shoulders, his voice as calm as always. “Though perhaps now that everyone is crammed into this palace, something new will turn up. Tensions are high, tempers frayed…one little thing and they all will fall apart. Such circumstances are ideal for rooting out information.” He rubbed his forehead, another rare sign of frustration. “Still, lover, I would not mind starting this day with a friendly face. Perhaps I am growing soft…”

“I think when you are a hundred years old, Vanya, you still will be able to kick around anyone who tries to pick a fight with you or anyone close to you. I cannot see you ever growing ‘soft.’”

“Not with you around, anyway,” Ivan said.

Ailill blinked, then smiled. “You are starting to get as bad as me, Vanya.”

Ivan only smiled, then stood up offered a hand to Ailill, tugging him up and leading them to the door. “So where shall we go?”

“Hmm…information and a friendly face…” Ailill tilted his head, thinking. “We should go see Verenne. She’s more miserable than ever, what with Freddie and her Majesty…she will be glad of the company, and she always keeps abreast of the latest events and information. If anyone has something we can use without your having to beat it out of them, it will be her.”

“Then let us go see her,” Ivan said, the tension in his shoulders easing.

Ailill nodded and shrugged into his morning jacket. Ivan eschewed such things, preferring to be as unencumbered as possible. As a nod to the tensions, at the request of Freddie he had not worn his sword since entering the palace for the final days before the Ceremony. Ailill was probably one of the few, if not the only, who knew he’d hidden at least three knives on his person. Outside, he led the way through the halls and rapped on Verenne’s door when they reached it.

“Will she even be awake?” Ivan asked.

“Oh, yes. She’s like me -- our formative years were spent having to wake before the sun. By the time we moved on to silk and satins, the habit was too ingrained.”

Ivan smiled briefly. “I have known you to sleep through the morning a time or two.”

“And whose fault would that be?” Ailill murmured right before the door opened. “Verenne, good morning.”

Verenne, rather than pleased as he expected, looked startled and dismayed. “Ailill.” She reached up to smooth back a stray curl. “Good morning.”

“Is something wrong?”

“Ah…no, not exactly,” Verenne said, turning her head to look at something Ailill couldn’t see. She nodded, probably to the voices Ailill could now just hear. “Come in, please. I apologize for my rudeness. You took me by surprise.”

Ailill waved the apology aside and moved inside as Verenne stepped aside and swung the door all the way open. He stopped short, surprised by Verenne’s other guests.

Ostensibly, there was no reason. Beasts were most likely to spend time with other Beasts. It was somewhat odd that Verenne was conversing over breakfast with the White Fox and Mongoose, but it was hardly unusual for the Beasts of each territory to spend time with each other.

In fact, if Verenne had not acted so strangely upon his arrival, he would not have thought twice about it. He had been gone too long to properly know the nature of the relationships between all the Beasts, and he’d been too busy with his own affairs to relearn them all as he should have.

“Good morning, Countess. Earl.” Ailill sketched a brief bow, the gesture returned and polite greeting murmured from the other two Beasts. He looked at each of them, then at Verenne. “I feel perhaps my presence is not wanted. A pity, as we had hoped, Verenne, that you were still a friendly face for us. I apologize for the disturbance.” He made to go, but Verenne held a hand up to stop him.

“No, please. Ailill, I am sorry. Truly. I did not mean to give that impression. It is only that our discussion is…well, your presence is oddly appropriate except that you probably will not tell us what we want to know. Please, though, won’t you sit and have some tea? Breakfast?”

Ailill shared a quick glance with Ivan, whose steel blue eyes told him that it was entirely his decision – a show of trust, rather than the indecision it would be with most others. “We’ve eaten but tea would be most welcome, if you truly do not mind. Anything to help keep us awake.”

“Of course I do not mind,” Verenne said, frowning. “I did not mean to make a friend feel so unwelcome.”

“My apologies, Verenne. As I said, I am most tired.”

Verenne smiled. “You look it, Ailill. Both of you, and usually it is hard to tell anything of what your lover feels.” She shifted her smile to Ivan. “Your investigations are obviously wearing upon you. The current tensions are, of course, not helping matters. Please, sit.” She bustled to the table and prepared two cups of tea, not needing to ask how each of them took it, sitting down across from them once they began to drink. On either side of her settled Countess Matilda Hardy, the White Fox and Earl Seraphin Bellerose, the White Mongoose. Ailill knew them both, but only in passing. Their provinces were far on the opposite side of the country, and their interests overlapped not at all with his.

“So what were you discussing that my presence is so oddly fitting?” Ailill asked after a few sips of his tea.

“Well…” Verenne bit her lip, obviously considering her words.

“You came to see his Grace,” Matilda said, staring directly at Ailill as she spoke, gaze unflinching, voice just as steady and sure. “He fell apart right in front of us, demanding to know where ‘he’ was. Shortly after that, he said he could no longer trust us. None of us has ever so much as thought about betraying him. That he cannot trust us hurts. We want to know why we have fallen so far from his favor, and why you clearly hold that trust instead.”

Ailill shrugged unhappily. “He has little choice. I unintentionally played a role in those matters which have him upset, and am most suited to finding a solution.”

Seraphin, who to Ailill had always seemed the very definition of refined, tilted his head inquisitively. “You keep your wording vague, in hopes of keeping us in the dark. We are not stupid, you know.”

“I know,” Ailill said. “I keep my silence because I must. I was told to trust no one, as much as it pains me to doubt those to whom I should be able to turn.”

Matilda snorted softly. “Of course you have no reason to trust us, not if his Grace does not. I know you cannot believe us, but I swear to you we none of us has done anything to harm his Grace. We would die for him.”

Ailill nodded. “More than anything, I would like to believe you. No – I do believe you. I am simply not allowed to act on that belief and take you into my confidence. If all of the Beasts are truly innocent…then I do not know where next to look for an answer to the riddle.”

“I sincerely doubt it is coincidence,” Seraphin said slowly, “that mere hours after his Grace’s eruption in the breakfast room we begin to hear rumors, later confirmed as fact, that the Grand Duchess’s messenger has been mysteriously kidnapped.” He stared at Ailill and Ivan, frowning when their expressions remained impassive. “What I do not understand is why no one wants it known that his Grace would care so much about Master Chevalier vanishing…or why his Grace would care so much.”

Silence fell for a moment, then Ivan’s voice broke it. “They were lovers.”

“Vanya!” Ailill hissed, surprised.

Ivan shook his head. “They can help. These three, at least, speak the truth.” He stared hard at each of them, steel blue eyes analyzing things Ailill could only wonder at. “They were lovers,” he repeated. “For certain reasons, the Grand Duke wanted to keep the relationship a secret until after the Ceremony.”

Shock filled the faces of the three Beasts.

Matilda was the first to recover. “Lovers? With Chevalier?” She shook her head in wonder. “I never…all those times he delivered a message, neither of them gave a single indication there was more than business between them…”

“Why did he keep it a secret?” Seraphin demanded. “There was no reason. We might all harp about form and rules, but let us face it – we flout as many rules as we follow. That aside, we would never protest any lover of Gael’s unless he was obviously doing his Grace harm.”

Ailill answered, having no reason now to keep his knowledge secret. “To summarize what his Grace told us, from the moment he met and began an affair with Noire, he was terrified of something happening to him. An instinctive fear, he said, that if anyone knew he loved Noire then Noire would be the one to suffer for it – likely perish for it. They have kept the relationship a secret to protect Noire from that unknown danger.”

“Somehow they failed, despite the precautions,” Matilda said softly, eyes closing as full comprehension struck her. “No wonder he fell so completely apart at breakfast.”

Seraphin was equally distressed. “He thinks one of us was responsible for kidnapping his lover? Why would we do such a thing? I cannot believe his Grace…no wonder he has looked so awful these past days…” He braced his elbows on his knees and buried his head in his hands, that cool refinement Ailill admired falling away as he agonized over his Guardian.

“Please,” Matilda said, voice low and solemn. “Tell us everything. We will not say anything to the others, though it pains me to say that. Just please – let us help. I cannot bear…”

Ailill nodded and slowly explained to them all that he and Ivan had learned, which was not nearly as much as he would have liked.

“I see all too well why a Beast is suspected,” Matilda said when he was finished. “I do not see how an ordinary citizen could have managed it. Perhaps a group of them…but it would have taken various Forms, and these days cooperation is difficult for people of like Forms to manage.”

Seraphin nodded with a grimace. “I agree. It sounds too much like the work of a Beast…except I do not know which Beast would have known. Certainly none of us suspected, and while you clearly cannot trust all the Beasts I would bet my life that none of his Grace’s would have done it.”

“I do not see any of her Grace’s doing it either,” Verenne said, mouth tight with anger and concern. “I do not think a Beast did it at all.”

Ailill frowned, and around him the others looked just as possible. “Then who do you suspect?”

“Oh, come on,” Verenne said impatiently. “I cannot be the only one who sees it.”

“I’m afraid you are, my dear, for I am not catching your line of thought at all,” Seraphin replied gently.

Verenne frowned and looked at her right hand, splaying the fingers before balling it into a fist. “Freddie and I have been lovers for years,” she said with a soft sigh. “A little less than a year ago we decided to start looking at rings, to wear as a sign of our eternal devotion. She hides it, but Freddie likes such things.” She smiled, the expression fond and sad. “We finally decided on a design and had the rings commissioned. Mere days after we received word the rings were ready, Freddie said she thought it best if we ended our relationship. I had not been expecting such words from her. Until she came home acting strangely, I was certain we would be celebrating, anticipating the day after the Ceremony when we would throw a ball to celebrate our formal union. Instead of that, I find I have been abandoned – because Freddie has rediscovered her love for Queen Etain.” Her fists tightened, trembling with it.

She continued when no one said anything. “Am I the only one who finds it strange that both Freddie and his Grace have lost their lovers shortly before the Ceremony? I have been discarded like a mistress who has turned boring…” Her mouth twisted with the bitterness that filled her voice. “Gael’s lover, kept secret because he for some reason feared for Noire, has now vanished completely – kidnapped on the threat that he will die if the Ceremony does not proceed accordingly.”

“Except there’s nothing in common with Freddie falling in love and a kidnapping.”

“Freddie is not in love with her!” Verenne shouted, making Seraphin and Matilda jump. “I know Freddie…” She began to blink rapidly, wrapping her arms tightly around her middle before forcing herself to keep calm. “I flew up to that cliff because after months of nothing but watching and wanting, I wanted to know if perhaps she had been watching and wanting me as well. It was hard; the air was thin and I nearly passed out getting up there. The Pegasus’s Cliff is truly the highest point in Verde. When I finally got to the top, Freddie could only stare at me in shock.” Tears trailed down her cheeks as Verenne recalled the memory. “Then she gathered me into her arms and held me close. Until nine months ago, I have always been in her embrace. I did not do all that, get into all those fights, work so hard…for her to suddenly realize she loves another woman. I do not believe it. I know what Freddie in love should look like, I know she did not lie when she said I was her reason for living…if she is in love with her Majesty, then I am a songbird.”

Ailill frowned in thought. “So many things still do not make sense. Why and how she would have somehow manipulated Freddie. A simple compulsion, even with the Queen’s power, would not be enough to so alter someone’s frame of mind. Nor does it explain why she would also take Noire…nor why she did these things so many months apart.”

Ivan snorted. “That last is easy enough to answer – so that no one would have a reason to associate the two incidents. If they had happened at the same time, or even days apart, someone would have thought ‘first Freddie takes a new lover after years with one, then his Grace loses his.’ The rest is presently beyond me, though between the five of us surely we can deduce something.”

Seraphin shook his head back and forth, expression dazed. “I cannot believe we are suggesting the Queen is behind the kidnapping.”

“I don’t see why not,” Verenne said bitterly. “Long before my life fell apart, Freddie seemed tense whenever she went to the palace. She avoided it as much as possible. I was surprised when she went that last night…and while I was shocked, some small part of me was not. It was almost as if that small part had been expecting such a thing. I could not tell you why.”

She pressed on when no one immediately spoke. “As to the kidnapping – it certainly fits, doesn’t it? She would have all the power she needed to sneak around, go undetected, and even both best Noire and carry him off with no one the wiser. All that would be required to do such things, she possess.”

“How?” Ivan asked sharply.

Ailill answered his questions, eyes closed against the cold horror his own words caused. “The Faerie Queen can change into any animal she so desires. Noire would be able to resist the compulsions of the Beasts if he absolutely felt the need to; he has been given such training for his position. The Queen, however…even a Beast would not be able to put up more than a token resistance. Only the Guardians could stand against her. Moreover, though no one has ever seen it done, it is said the Queen’s magic is so great she can change the Form of all but the Beasts at will. If she changed his Form to a smaller one…”

“She could have easily carried him out, leaving the room mysteriously empty,” Ivan finished, glaring at him. “Why did you mention none of this before?”

“I am sorry. It never once occurred to me that the Queen herself could be the perpetrator. If it crossed my mind at all, it was to be immediately dismissed as absurd.” Ailill looked away, shrugging. “I am sorry.”

A hand settled on his back, moving in a soothing, circular motion. “I do not think, in your case, that I would have thought of it either,” Ivan conceded. “So if we accept this theory that the Queen is responsible – for both Verenne’s being discarded and Noire’s kidnapping, we must discern why she would do this…though more important at present is where Noire is being kept. I do not think he will be left alive…if he still is, which I’m afraid we must consider.”

“No,” Matilda said, shaking her head adamantly. “Gael would know if he was dead, I am sure of that. Beyond that, I prefer to think positively, no matter what.”

Ivan nodded. “Then we must find him.”

“He’s in the palace,” Verenne said flatly, face set in a stony expression. “The Queen keeps things close to her breast; it is part of what keeps the people in awe of her. If she is behind it, and with every second I believe more and more that she is, then I think she would keep him within her palace – her stronghold, the seat of her power.”

“I agree,” Ivan said. “So where would be the best place to look?”

Ailill frowned in thought, shunting aside the horror, the disbelief, that the Queen herself could actually be somehow responsible for the entire mess. That she would hurt both of her Guardians in such a way… “Her wing of the palace? The private gardens? Fire and ash, he could be anywhere. There are miles of the palace and grounds to be searched.”

“The Ceremony is tomorrow,” Ivan said grimly. “So we had best search quickly.”

“Tomorrow will be our best chance, though,” Verenne said. “After they go into the Ceremony Chamber. They will be in there for hours. It will be our only chance to search her wing, and if we are going to look anywhere, that seems the best place to start.”

Ivan nodded and stood. “Until then, we search everywhere else that we possibly can.”

Ailill stood up beside him, and turned his thoughts around in his head, weighing the decision heavily. “Tell the other Beasts,” he said at last. “Those you think will accept our suspicions. If they are guilty, perhaps panic will lead us to where Noire is hidden. If they are innocent, and willing to accept our suspecting the Queen, then the more help we have the better.”

“Yes,” the other three Beasts said, standing as one, dividing up as they departed.

“Let us hope this was the right decision,” Ailill said heavily.

Ivan’s eyes blazed briefly, as though flames were reflected for a brief moment in them. “When you have nothing left to lose, light a fire and let it all burn.”


Chapter Sixteen

Gael shrugged into the heavy white and gold coat as it was held out for him, rolling his shoulders to settle it, allowing the valets assisting him – lent by two beasts, for he did not keep one himself – to smooth the fabric, tweak and adjust and fuss with the lay of it.

He tamped down on his impatience. There was only one person he wanted touching him with such familiarity and it was certainly not a couple of strange valets. Still, the Ceremony was not about him – it was about the people. If it made everyone feel better to know he was being treated with every last bit of luxury and pomp, then so be it. Enduring such ridiculousness was hardly going to kill him.

That was something else entirely.

Gael held his arms out as one valet set to work fastening delicate gold cufflinks in place, lifting his chin as the other tied his cravat in a knot so ridiculously complicated Gael would have rolled his eyes under ordinary circumstances.

The entire thing gave him the impression of being fitted into his armor. All he lacked, it seemed, was a sword.

Not that he would know what to do with a sword, but it did seem as though he should have one – or some suitable equivalent.

Mentally he rolled his eyes, deciding that his mind must be well and truly lost if he was thinking such asinine thoughts mere hours before the Ceremony that could very well leave him dead and the country in shambles.

He’d already dictated who would take over in the event the Ceremony would fail. Each of the Beasts had done the same, so that everything would be maintained and held in readiness until the new Court appeared.

Mercy of the gods, he hoped such precautions would not have to be taken. He didn’t want to be responsible for leaving his country so devastated. He didn’t want to know that because he and his sisters failed, twelve Beasts would die and the country would once more have to start over, the despair cutting deeper than ever.

He didn’t want to die knowing Noire would probably die as well, that he had not been able to find the only person that mattered anymore.

Gael shoved away the pain, the dark thoughts, and focused on how much he truly hated all this dressing up. He and Freddie had never had the heart to tell anyone that they would be in Form for the Ceremony – clothes were completely superfluous, except for the few minutes when Etain made her speech. He supposed that was reason enough, but the formal clothing he already had too much of would have worked just fine.

Except that it made everyone happy to fuss over him, and make the clothes for him, and dress him. That was reason enough, even if he wanted very badly to strip right out of all of it. He wondered if being a god would make him more patient.

Probably not. There was no doubt only so much divinity could do.

Hands went to his hair, combing out the long, fine strands, pulling out tangles without yanking his head off in the process. Gael watched as the valet moved to the dressing table and reached for a delicate gold ribbon. “The blue one,” he said.

The valet frowned. “But your Grace—”

“The blue one,” Gael repeated sharply.

A slight pause, then the valet merely nodded and obediently picked up the pale blue ribbon lying in the middle of the dressing table. He swiftly tied back Gael’s hair, frowning in dissatisfaction as he stepped back. “Your Grace…”

Gael shook his head. “It holds sentimental value. I will wear no other.”

“As you wish, your Grace,” the footman said with a low bow, gracefully conceding defeat.

The second valet fussed with buttons and lace a minute more, then stepped back to join his companion. “You look perfect, your Grace.”

“Only by your efforts, I am certain,” Gael said with a half smile. “Certainly I would never have the patience to dress myself thus. I’d much rather do everything in my night robe.”

The valets chuckled and bowed once more, then turned and departed. Gael turned to stare out the window, somehow simultaneously calm and restless – willing time to stop, and wishing it would also hurry up.

Outside it was still dark – the sun would not begin to rise for at least another hour. By dawn, they would be entering the chamber. The Ceremony would take all day, concluding only once the sun had set. It was a long, strenuous, intricate process of spells and prayers, things that had not been said in their entirety for a thousand years. If all went according to plan, when the sun set the prayers upon the world would be renewed and Verde would once more have its gods.

There wasn’t a single cloud in the sky, every star laid bare for the eye to see. Stargazing…that was something else he would love to do with Noire. His Kitten would love it, lying outside in the dark and quiet, cuddled together, watching the stars and keeping each other warm…

Pain twisted through him as it always did when thoughts of his lover got the better of him, but Gael would not let it distract him. He fully intended to survive the Ceremony and then somehow locate his lover. There was no point in further tormenting himself, not now.

A knock at the door spared him further thoughts, and Gael quietly bid the knocker enter – surprised to see as all six of his Beasts spilled into the room, dressed in finery the equal of his own. They also looked just as tired and worn.

Truly, the next time he had a Ceremony to perform, he was going to dictate it start at noon. He didn’t care what adjustments had to be made. This getting up early to put on fancy white clothes was ridiculous.

Mercy of the Queen, who thought making him a god was a good idea?

“Beasts,” Gael greeted cautiously. “I am sorry you were dragged so early from your beds.”

“Nothing a bracing cup of tea didn’t fix,” Matti said, though she was clearly fighting a yawn.

Gael smiled faintly and motioned for all of them to sit. “Thank you for coming to see me.”

“We could hardly not come to see you,” Rodrigue said with a snort, settling into a large armchair. Elianne, the White Eagle, perched on the armrest and nodded her head in agreement.

Seraphin settled on the sofa beside Matilda, leaving Justus, the White Owl and Honore, the White Stag, to share the settee. Gael moved away from the window to stand at the edge of the sitting area, facing them all. “It is good to see you, my Beasts,” he said quietly.

“We know you’re…out of sorts, your Grace,” Elianne said. “For reasons obvious and not. None of us is happy about the harsh words exchanged…but you are still our Guardian, and we are still your Beasts.”

“Always,” Gael replied, looking at each of them. “I hope this time tomorrow you are still my Beasts.”

Honore smiled, the expression softening his stern features. “If anyone could thwart a thousand-year old tradition, your Grace, it would be you and the Grand Duchess, and of course her Majesty.” The briefest shadow flickered across his face, as if some unhappy thought had suddenly taken hold of Honore – but it was gone so quickly Gael half thought he’d imagined it.

“We look forward to seeing you at breakfast, your Grace,” Justus said. Then he smiled. “Or perhaps at lunch.”

Gael smiled. “You will be lucky if you see me before dinner.”

“Perhaps breakfast on the following day,” Matti said with a chuckle. “I know I for one intend to take a very long nap after this is all finally over.”

“You will be taking a long nap because of the excessive wine you will drink at the ball tonight,” Rodrigue said with a snort.

Matti lifted her chin, obviously struggling to keep a straight face as she sniffed, offended. “I am certain I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“He’s talking about breaking your four bottle record,” Elianne retorted.

“Four and a half,” Seraphin corrected, grunting when Matti drove her elbow into his gut. “Careful, Matti. Don’t ruin my waistcoat. You’ll make my valet cry.”

Matti rolled her eyes but subsided.

“You lot have far more energy than I for such an awful hour,” Gael said with a shake of his head.

The Beasts laughed quietly, but all too soon the levity faded back into a heavy silence.

Gael wished he knew what to say to make everything better.

Off in the distance, the bells tolled the fourth hour. Gael made a face. “It would seem it is time for me to be going already… Thank you for coming to see me, my Beasts. Under the circumstances…” He fought the sudden tightness in his throat. “Thank you.”

“You’re our leader,” Matti said softly. She stood up, the shimmering skirts of her snow-white gown falling in elegant folds around her, and crossed the small space to embrace him. She smelled like vanilla and honey, the scent soothing rather than cloying. Gael returned the embrace, murmuring another soft thank you. One by one the other Beasts stepped up to embrace him and wish him good luck – no one said farewell.

As one, the Beasts all bowed and curtsied. Gael returned the gesture before going to the door – opening it just before a footman outside could knock.

“Your Grace?” Matilda said softly as he was about to close the door.

“Yes?” Gael said, half turning back.

“Worry about the Ceremony,” she said. “We will find Noire.”

Gael’s eyes widened, his breath stopping short, but before he could reply the footmen were ushering him on, muttering that he was very close to running late and that his sisters were already waiting. The door closed on his Beasts, their fond smiles the last thing he saw before being all but dragged away.




His sisters were, of course, resplendent and perfect.

Freddie wore a simple but beautiful gown of white silk, form fitting at the top, drifting into a soft, swishing skirt. The only adornments were pearls and diamonds threaded along the bottom, a smaller amount along the top of the sleeveless dress. A matching choker adorned her throat. Her hair, usually pulled severely back from her face, was loose. To keep the long, pale strands of it from her face – something Freddie hated – small, delicate diamond and pearl combs had been artfully arranged, almost looking like a tiara, sparkling in the light of the lamps of the great hall.

Beside her Etain was just as lovely, if not more so. Her gown was also sleeveless, the latest fashion, but of white satin rather than silk. Jeweled beads in a rainbow of color wound along the dress in a leaf and vine pattern, delicate and pretty. Her hair was loose, as it always was, but her simple diadem had been exchanged for a more ornate one – gold and silver braided together, a diamond set between an esmeralda and sapphir.

Any man should be thrilled to have two women love him as deeply as these two did him. Gael knew he should be more than content to keep Etain and Freddie close and never ask for a single thing more.

They weren’t enough though. He would love his sisters until the end of time, would always stand by and support them…but they weren’t his heart and soul. They were a permanent part of his world, but not the center of it.

No, that position belonged to one man and no other, and that he was not present here, had not been present for the last several days, rendered the Ceremony and everything surrounding it hollow and meaningless.

He would love Verde, and care for it. Always. There would be no meaning in it though. No sincerity. It would all be cold, empty duty.

The Ceremony was going to succeed however, he had vowed. He had no choice – and that made everything more bitter, but it eased as he reminded himself that he was making it his choice. Nothing mattered but Noire, and he would do anything – even do what had not been done in a thousand years – to reclaim his lover.

Anything.

Gael mounted the steps of the dais and bowed to each of his sisters in turn, taking their hands and kissing the knuckles. “Good Morning, my Queen. Grand Duchess.”

“Good morning, Grand Duke,” the two women each replied, kissing his cheek.

Formal greetings finished, Gael slid into his place on Etain’s left. As he stilled, Etain stepped forward, holding her arms out to all the people gathered in the great hall to wish their leaders the best.

Gael allowed his mind to wander as Etain gave her speech, knowing by rote all the places in it where he needed to nod or smile or wave. Beside him Freddie did the same.

Something about Freddie was…strange. Gael wished he could look more closely, but all he could do at present was face forward and let the crowd stare. Freddie was moving slowly, and she had seemed distant even as she greeted him and went through all the motions that preceded their actually entering the chamber.

Perhaps he was tired and overanalyzing her actions – certainly he must seem just as strange himself. Who could possibly appear normal under circumstances such as these?

Etain certainly did. She was the Queen, however. Soon to truly and forever be the Faerie Queen of Verde, restored after more than a thousand years of tragedy. If anyone was capable of appearing wholly unaffected and completely calm with such weight hanging over their head, it was Etain. He had to admire that ability, even envy it.

Certainly he was about to start screaming any moment.

Finally the speech concluded, and he and Freddie stepped forward to take their turns in saying a few words. When everything was finally said and completed, the Queen and Guardians Prospective curtsied and bowed to their people, then turned toward the double doors that had been locked for fifty years.

Pulling a key from where it had been secreted in her dress, one of the Royal Treasures to which only the Queen had access, Etain unlocked the door then stepped back so that Freddie and Gael could pull the doors open.

Silence reigned as the three vanished through the doors, but it erupted into whispers and cries and quiet, fearful sobbing as the doors closed shut behind them.



When foreigners visited the castle, they were always surprised to learn that the massive doors in the great hall just beyond the entryway did not lead to the throne room. In any other castle or palace, they would. In Verde, the throne room was tucked away deeper inside the palace.

It was, after all, only the second most important room in the eyes of Verde. The doors in the great hall opened onto a long hallway, filled with light though no obvious source of it could be found.

All along the walls were murals of gods the world had long ago lost. Three great dragons ran half the length of one wall – one dark as the depths of the sea, one the blue of the sky and ocean on a cloudless day, the last as bright and sharp as winter ice. Opposite them was a massive bird, its feathers brilliant and beautiful, seemingly made of untamable fire, burning red and orange, portions white and blue. Just out of reach of the Firebird’s flames was a long, thick and sinuous snake the color of slate. His eyes were pure black, as though the sockets were empty…or the eyes covered. Opposite him, as though stepping from the waves created by the Great Storm Dragons, was a man who seemed remarkably plain by comparison. He was handsome, solemn looking, dressed in plain brown breeches and white shirt. His hair was light brown, falling messily around his face, stopping just short of his shoulders. All around him, however, the sun shone brightly, as though he stood in a field of gold…it almost looked, at a second glance, as though the light emanated from the quiet, pensive figure.

On the final set of doors before them was an intricate carving of vines and flowers, so beautifully and skillfully carved only that color of the wood kept it all from looking alive.

These doors were not locked. None but the Queen and Guardians ever came this far.

Gael reached out with Freddie and shoved the doors open, then stepped aside so that Etain might precede them inside.

The Ceremony Chamber was breathtaking. Gael was immediately struck by the splendor and beauty – it was a sort of garden, alive and thriving and bright despite the fact that the only sun in the room was painted in the mural on the domed ceiling.

Around the perimeter of the large, circular room was a small, artificial stream. To get into the center, they had to cross over a small, curving, open bridge. Beyond that was shimmering white tile, the marble somehow filled with flecks of gold and silver that sparkled in the unseen source of light. Toward the very center, however, the tiles gave over to rich green grass, finally leading to a massive oak tree, the leaves of it stretching up to stop just short of the ceiling.

“I have not felt so…at peace…in a very long time…” Freddie said quietly, as though it would not be proper to speak loudly.

Gael had the same impression, his own voice just as low when he replied. “I agree. It is like…waking after a long, satisfying nap.”

Etain’s tinkling laugh filled the room. “I’m so happy you’re both finally here with me. It never felt right to be here alone. Always I wanted to beg you to join me, though I knew I could not do such a thing. It finally feels right, don’t you think? The three of us here, together, no one else about.”

No…Gael wanted to share this with someone else. He wanted someone else to know him this well, to be this close…

How had his Beasts known? Ailill and Ivan? But why? They knew how important it was to keep everything secret…someone else? Has his secret finally slipped out completely? The thought made him want to panic and right now he most certainly could not.

Worry about the Ceremony, Matti had said. They would find Noire. She had said that. Gael desperately wanted to believe her. He…perhaps he could. Should. At this point, it certainly could not hurt. He would rather trust his Beasts than not.

“Shall we begin?” Etain said, interrupting his thoughts.

“Yes,” Freddie and Gael said together.

Etain nodded and moved to the tree, standing right before it, cast into the shadow of its numerous leaves.

As Freddie and Gael stepped forward to join her, they shifted. In this most sacred Ceremony, all would be done in their True Forms.

Immune to the darkness of the shadows cast by the tree, Etain’s wings seemed to glow, a brilliant rainbow of shimmering light. She held out her hand to pet their noses as the Guardians of Verde approached her.

The Pegasus with her silver-white coat, shimmering like moonlight, wings dark gray at the base, fading to delicate silver at the tips, flashing briefly as she flexed them, shining even as she neatly folded them across her back.

Gael’s horn flashed brilliant enough to blind beneath the light of the painted sun. His coat was flawlessly white, as perfect as new fallen snow. He stepped lightly, barely seeming to touch the grass as he moved forward.

We will succeed, he vowed quietly.

I do not see how we could fail, Freddie agreed.

Etain smiled lovingly, beautifully, at them both, stroking their noses with her long, elegant fingers. “Of course not, my beloved Pegasus, my treasured Unicorn. We are as we were always meant to be. Now, let us begin.” The first set of prayers belonged exclusively to her, a long, complicated set that would take her almost an hour to recite. Throughout it all, her hands remained upon them, binding all three together.

Gael tried to focus on the Ceremony, knowing it should be the only thing on his mind, but he could not escape the nagging feeling that something wasn’t right. Something was off, wrong.

He could not put his finger on what, though.

Freddie still did not seem quite herself, and Gael’s irritation grew as he realized he could not place exactly why.

Too still, too…him, not Freddie. He was the one who held still, who acted with reserve. Here, at this very moment, Freddie should be positively vibrating with the need to expend restless energy. It was her nature; that would not change, even here.

Why, then, was she so still?

Perhaps it was only strain. He could think of no other reason. Or perhaps he only wanted something to be wrong, something to justify his own private feelings against the matter. He wanted to do this for Verde, for Noire, not because if he didn’t Noire would die. He had vowed to let it be his choice, and it was, but the bitterness was still a foul aftertaste in his mouth.

So he was probably only seeing what he wanted to see. If Freddie had been bothered by something, she would have said so rather than risk the Ceremony.

Gael shoved his worries and doubts aside and focused on Etain’s words. All too soon, it would be his turn and he could not get so much as a single syllable wrong.