Fey 02 - Changeling Read online

  "You'll need it," Jewel said. "If Grandfather is still Black King, he'll have the Soldiers slaughter you and send the pieces of your flesh to the far sides of the globe. No Fey makes the mistakes you made and lives. If Bridge comes as Black King, he will have his faithful kill us both to save his throne. You will have to ally with me, my husband, and the child you refuse to acknowledge. Because if you do not, you will die."

  Her words had a truth he did not want to admit. Jewel made the only choice for peace, the Shaman said on the day of Jewel's wedding. Would that you always do the same, Rugar.

  "Now," Jewel said, her voice grim and low, "if you want to support this alliance, you go inside and do not make a fuss. If you want to declare war against the King of Blue Isle, and his Queen, leave. But rest assured that I have the blood of a Black Queen, and I will do everything in my power to win any battle I find myself in. Do I make myself clear?"

  Rugar smiled. She made herself very clear. She just hadn't discovered that in war, he held the most important piece. Her son, the most powerful Visionary ever to appear in the Black King's line.

  "I'll go inside," Rugar said. He slipped around his daughter's hand, clasped with that of her husband.

  "Promise me," Jewel said, "that you won't make trouble today."

  Rugar met her gaze. She had finally asked of him something he could do. "I promise," he said.

  EIGHTEEN

  Jewel put her free hand on her chest. Beneath the brocade, she could feel the warmth of her skin and her pounding heart. Her father turned and, cape flaring, marched through the doorways. From the back he looked like something a Dream Rider would bring, black hair, black cape, black boots, all firmness and power.

  And it was a sham, all of it. Rugar had no power. He had never had power off the battlefield, and even then had had to answer to his father. The bid for Blue Isle was a bid for power, and it had failed.

  He answered to her now, and he didn't like it.

  Nicholas squeezed her hand. His beautiful blue eyes were wide, his face pale. "Is what you said to him true?" he asked in Nye, apparently not wanting the nurse to understand.

  "Which part?" Jewel asked. She allowed herself to be pulled closer to Nicholas's side.

  "The part about fighting him if he starts the war again."

  "Yes," she said.

  "But he's your father, Jewel. They're your people."

  "I didn't say I would fight my people, Nicholas. I said I would fight him." She let her free hand drop. Nicholas didn't know how ruthless the Fey could be. She had tried to warn him, but he couldn't seem to fathom it. "The only hope for the Fey on Blue Isle is to follow me."

  "Or the Black King will slaughter them when he arrives? Will he arrive, Jewel?"

  She nodded. "Maybe not in your lifetime or in mine, but certainly during Sebastian's. My Grandfather is too old for battle, and I think he's Blind, too. If my brother Bridge becomes Black King, he will consolidate power on Galinas. He is not a warrior and he doesn't need to be. It will be understood that he took the job when the true powers died at sea."

  "At sea?" Nicholas asked.

  She nodded. "Failure is talked about only in the context of living Fey, Nicholas. My father and I can become victims of a storm easier than we can lose a battle. But once Bridge dies, his child, his successor will have to come to Blue Isle because it is the next stop on the way to Leut. The Fey are warriors. Their leaders are conquerors. We have stopped in our travels for a generation or two, but we have never stopped, and we cannot stop until the whole world is ours."

  "Then the Isle should be preparing for this," Nicholas said.

  She squeezed his hand. "No. I am already preparing. If the Isle is integrated when they come, Nicky, it becomes part of the Empire without bloodshed. The government remains the same, and stays in the hand of your family. But if the Isle isn't integrated, then all the holy water on Blue Isle won't stop the Fey. The Spell Warders my grandfather has make Rugar's team look like infants. They will find the secret to your weapon, and they will turn it on you."

  "What about you?"

  "If I am still alive, I'll be executed. My line will be eradicated. We'll all die, Nicky. You, me, Sebastian, and this little one." Jewel patted her stomach.

  He dropped her hand. "You never said that they would kill us. You said we would become honorary Fey. An important part of the Empire. I remember that. You said it at the meeting when we decided to be married. You made it sound like a promise."

  "It is a promise, Nicholas. It is."

  "But you would betray your own father."

  She didn't know how to explain this to him in the corridor while the entire Isle waited in the Hall for his coronation. Yet she knew it couldn't wait. He had been urged to throw her aside. He would do so if he felt that he had no choice.

  "Like you," she said slowly, "I have been raised to rule from birth. But unlike you, I was raised in a world of war. Betrayal, coup, assassination. Alliances and counteralliances. My people can make themselves look like the enemy. In the Fey world, no one can be trusted lightly. No one, Nicky. Any betrayal of trust gets tallied, and when the score grows too high, the friend becomes the enemy. There is no other way."

  "So I can trust you as long as I treat you well," Nicholas said.

  She held up her hand. To her surprise, it was trembling. "Let me finish. The true Black King — or Black Queen — has to be ruthless. It is the only way to survive. No one wants to kill a Black King more than his closest sibling or his child. But the Black King's family cannot kill within its ranks. That causes untold turmoil. So we have to do it subtly, by hiring assassins and not giving direct orders, or by finding other methods. My grandfather sent my father away for a reason. But my father took me as a guarantee that he would not lose his position. His guarantee failed because he had not counted on the strength of the Isle.

  "My father was the leader on this Isle and I took that leadership from him, without bloodshed, when I made the alliance with you. He knows it, and I know it. And until the power balance settles, he needs to know I can be as ruthless as he is. Not just for me, but for you. For Sebastian. For this baby. If we don't ally with my father, we will fight a guerrilla war with my own people until the Black King comes. And on that day, we're all dead."

  "But what about me, Jewel? How do I know if you'll turn on me?"

  Sebastian was watching them, his little mouth moving as he sucked his forefinger. The nurse was staring into the Coronation Hall. She probably understood some Nye. They should have been speaking Fey.

  Jewel swallowed. She had no easy answer for this question. "Because I haven't turned on you yet," she said. "And I won't."

  Nicholas took her hand again and touched each finger with his own before clasping it and pulling her as close as he could. Then he kissed her, his lips so light on hers that they felt like the touch of a breeze. "We'll do this together," he said.

  She nodded.

  Then he took her hand, and held it out as he had all the way to the Hall. As they went through the double arched doors, his grip on her tightened.

  Jewel had never been inside the Coronation Hall. She was not prepared for its size. Islanders watched her from the balconies above. Rows of Islanders ten across flanked them on either side. A red carpet had been laid, leading them to the steps and a platform up front. A platform that, in a normal building, would have been a room in and of itself. Matthias sat toward the back of the platform. His red robes matched the carpet. He was too far away for her to see his features.

  Jewel and Nicholas processed down the aisle, with Sebastian behind them. A low murmur followed them as people commented on her son. He was a handsome child, his features a perfect combination of hers and Nicholas's. He had her thinness, and Nicholas's squareness. Most of the people in the Hall would see nothing wrong with Sebastian. Only those who caught a glimpse of his eyes would know that he would never be a bright, active child.

  She had thought Nicholas's decision to bring Sebastian odd. Now she understood i
t. Let them know that their king had a family. Let them know the dynasty was secure. Only she, and Nicholas, needed to know that Sebastian could never run a country, especially a country that could, at any moment, be invaded by the Black King of the Fey.

  The murmurs were the only sound in the room. She had been prepared for that, but knowing it wasn't enough. The strangeness of a silent march seemed foreign to her, more than almost any other custom. Music was not common here. When she had asked about it, before Sebastian's naming ceremony, Nicholas had looked at her as if she had spoken a hex. Music was considered too powerful for mere mortals. The Tabernacle controlled it, and used it only within its walls.

  She had never been to ceremonies without music until she had come here.

  Burden and the other members of the Settlement sat in the balconies near the center of the Hall. They looked down on her, their faces solemn. They had tried to make a future on the Isle and she had failed them by being too concerned with her own life. She would not fail them again.

  As she and Nicholas walked farther toward the front, Matthias stood. He clasped his hands behind his back, waiting.

  They had almost reached the steps. Her father sat in the last seat of the front row, right beside the aisle. Next to him were the important Fey from Shadowlands. They wore green.

  Green.

  The anger she had felt earlier surged through her again. She almost turned and yelled at her father. Nicholas understood that color. He knew because she had worn green at their wedding to celebrate her joy.

  She must have turned for Nicholas squeezed her hand so tightly that pain shot through her arm. She faced forward, proud Queen once again. She would deal with her father after the ceremony.

  In private.

  And he would tell her the truth. About everything.

  Nicholas guided her up the stairs. Matthias was the only person on the large platform except for them. The nurse had taken a seat on the other side of the aisle, Sebastian cradled in her arms.

  On a table behind Matthias stood two vials of holy water, two crowns, and a cloth, like the one he had used at their wedding. Jewel stared at the glittering cut-glass bottles. This was her compromise. This was the risk she had taken for Nicholas. He had agreed to have the ceremony outside of the Tabernacle, and she had agreed to be beside him despite the presence of holy water.

  "Blessed be the King and his Chosen," Matthias said in a voice so loud it echoed through the entire Hall.

  "Blessed be," the congregation answered.

  Nicholas took Jewel's elbow and led her to the end of the red runner. They stood together before Matthias. He smiled at Nicholas, but when he turned to her, his gaze was cold.

  "When the Roca was Absorbed," Matthias said, "his religious mantle fell to his second son. But his power in this world fell to his eldest, and has continued in unbroken line since that day. Nicholas, son of Alexander, son of Dimitri, son of Sebastian, has the blood of the Roca in his veins. He stands before us, heir to the Roca's throne in the world, our leader, our teacher, our healer."

  Matthias held his hands over Nicholas's and Jewel's heads. Nicholas bowed his head and, after a moment, Jewel did the same.

  "We honor him. We cherish him. And we will obey him until, in His Wisdom, God chooses another." Matthias clapped his hands together, then raised them toward the heavens. "The Words Written and Unwritten say, 'And when the Roca Ascended, his two sons stepped forward. The eldest said he would stand in the Roca's place as leader of men.' The sun shone upon them, and the warmth of God enfolded them, and they knew it was good. And so it shall be in unbroken generation after generation, the firstborn son shall take the Roca's place in the land, use the Roca's voice to lead, and be the Roca as long as he walks within the world."

  Jewel shuddered. She had not realized how closely tied the King was to the religion. She had known the myth, but not that its power was perpetuated in the coronation ceremony.

  "Bow your heads for the Blessing."

  Jewel's head was bowed, but not too low. She could still see Matthias's hands. He backed away from her, and took one vial of holy water. He poured it over the tiny sword around his neck. Then he touched the sword to Nicholas's forehead. Jewel flinched at the nearness of Matthias's saturated hands. But he didn't seem to notice her.

  "'Blessed be this man before Us,'" Matthias said. "'May the Holy One hear his Words. May the Roca guard his Deeds. May God open his Heart.'"

  Then he let the sword fall to his chest. Nicholas stepped forward, removed the sword from around his neck, and dipped it in the second bottle of holy water. He held the sword up.

  "With this," he said, "I Bless all before me, and swear upon the Roca's Absorption to serve his purpose within the world."

  Then, out of deference to Jewel, he took the sword off, and set it on the table beside the vial of holy water. He took a pouch of water — water she had given him before the ceremony started — from within his robes, and washed his hands so that the poison wouldn't touch her.

  "This King comes to us with a Queen, and a son," Matthias said. "This Queen cannot touch the Roca's water. She cannot have the traditional Blessing. But I urge you to accept her nonetheless. She is the choice of our leader, and her son will lead us someday."

  Jewel's heart was pounding. Nicholas had warned her that Matthias would comment on her inability to be touched with holy water. It had to be addressed in the ceremony.

  "Still, she will wear the crown of the Roca's consort, and through it, she will fulfill what tradition demands of her."

  Nicholas held out his hand. Jewel stared at it for a moment. She had seen him wash. She had given him the water and had not left his side. She had just told him she would trust him.

  Always.

  She took his hand.

  Nothing changed.

  His gaze met hers. Tears swam in his eyes. He had been as frightened as she.

  She took two steps so that she was at his side. A kneeling cushion rested just beneath the table, the cushion big enough for both of them. When she was beside him, Nicholas turned, and together they knelt before murderous symbols of his religion.

  Matthias stood between them and the table. He took the crown that would belong to Nicholas and held it between his long, slender hands. The crown was large, made of gold, and studded with more gems than Jewel had ever seen. Most were diamonds and rubies, but two were a bright blue, of a kind unfamiliar to her.

  "The crown carries the Eyes of God," Matthias said. "Its possessor is all seeing, all knowing, all powerful."

  Jewel couldn't help herself. She brought her gaze up so that she could see Matthias's face. He believed what he was saying. They believed their king to have the eyes, the ears, the strength of a god. Their king came from the same birthline, and he carried the heritage within himself. Such a firm belief. Such a power to fight against.

  Had Nicholas realized this when he chose Jewel? His father certainly had. His father had opposed the joining from the beginning. Only near his death was he coming to accept Jewel. She suspected he was waiting to see what happened to the second child.

  "Nicholas, son of Alexander, son of Dimitri, son of Sebastian, heir to the Roca's life, do you accept the wisdom of the Holy One, the Blessing of the Roca, the Sight of God?"

  Nicholas's head was bowed, his hair over his face. "I do."

  "Then accept the symbol of the Roca's power within the world." Matthias lowered the crown onto Nicholas's head. The crown slipped slightly and Matthias caught it with one hand, then eased the crown into position, messing Nicholas's hair. Jewel kept her hands tightly clasped, resisting the urge to fix it.

  "Jewel, daughter of Rugar, son of Rugad." Matthias was now standing over her. "You will carry the seed of the Roca within you. You shall stand beside your husband in all he does. Tradition tells us that the Roca's second son, accepting the Charge from God, put aside women. But God, in his wisdom, allowed the Roca's eldest to choose a mate. That mate must also do the Roca's work within the world."

&n
bsp; His phrasing seemed odd to her. If she had carried the seed of Roca within her already, then why hadn't it poisoned her like the holy water had? Perhaps their religion was not poison to her. Perhaps it had no magic at all. Perhaps the word they had used to describe the water, poison, was the correct word after all.

  "Do you accept your charge as Queen of Blue Isle?" Matthias said.

  "I do." She spoke without hesitation, as loudly as Matthias had. Let them know that their paltry religion couldn't beat her. Let them remember that she was the Black King's granddaughter. And let them understand that she was now a part of their lives, forever.

  Nicholas squeezed her hand. She glanced at him. His gaze, through the curtain of his hair, warmed her.

  Matthias turned and took the cloth, balancing it gingerly on the tips of his fingers. He placed it on her head. The cloth seemed warm, and it made her scalp tingle. Her mouth went dry.