Page 102 of Confounding Oaths
“Redress?” The queen’s tone was carefully neutral.
“I bargained for beauty,” Miss Caesar echoed, trying to keep as close to Amenirdis’s phrasing as she could. Which was a good instinct; words are magic and changing the words changes the spell. “But I received less than I gave away.”
Like the Lady, like most of her courtiers, Titania had a remarkable laugh. One that held only kindness, even when used for cruel purpose, that offered hope even as it stole choice, that took all you had and left only happiness behind it.
“I received less than I gave away,” Miss Caesar repeated. And there was strength in that repetition. Few would make the same petition to the Queen of the Wrong Mirrors twice.
But our kind grow bored easily, and the queen was growing bored now. She turned her face from Miss Caesar and began to walk away.
“I received,” Miss Caesar said for the third time, “less than I gave away.”
The laws that bind our people do not bind yours. You may lie about a thing any arbitrary number of times, though you somehow persist in believing repetition is truth anyway. But while we know that your laws are not ours, we sometimes live in the spaces between them. What we tell you three times is true, and what you tellusthree times we must heed, whether we wish to or not.
Whether you would wish us to or not.
Titania turned back, a new menace in her aspect. Her gown ofdiamonds shimmered white with anger and the laurels on her crown curled back to reveal thorns. “That is a grave accusation, child, and must be answered.”
With no spoken signal, Titania called the Lady to her side. The Lady herself, perhaps conscious that her relationship with Miss Caesar was reaching its conclusion in one way or another, had been touring the party in search of fresh clients. Now she went obediently to her queen. “Majesty?”
“This girl charges that she bargained for beauty, but that what was given did not outweigh that which was taken.”
“No price was stipulated,” the Lady replied, coolly. “And that beauty was granted cannot be denied.”
This seemed to satisfy the crowd, whose vulnerability to the Beauty Incomparable was surely proof enough for any reasonable person.
Not that being reasonable is ever truly a requirement amongst my kind.
But just as the matter seemed settled, a rough, northern voice called out from the back of the room. “I deny it.”
The whole crowd turned, and Barryson pushed his way forwards. “I am Barry,” he said, “son of Barry, son of Bob, keeper of the old ways, and I demand that this matter be tried at the Althing.” This was an interesting gambit, although the laws of the Old North were of limited sway in either the English court or its fairy echo.
Titania turned her head to face Barryson. “Are you a lawspeaker?”
Barryson shook his head. “There’s none in the south, as I’m sure you know.”
“Then you have no authority.” She turned and walked back towards the far wall, where now the mist was receding to reveal along colonnade of trees stretching endlessly into a distorted distance. “If you wish to make your case, child,” she called to Miss Caesar without so much as looking at her, “then make it. But you will not make it here.”
And so as the queen retreated and her court went with her, Miss Caesar followed. Although neither I nor the crowd nor her family nor, perhaps, she herself could tell if she went from her own will.
“Fucking stop her,” called the captain to whichever of his men could hear him. The cry was passed on as effectively as it could be and, on the periphery of the room, Sal and Jackson, still masked as harlequins, did their best to flank the queen’s procession, but the crowds were too thick and her fairy courtiers too canny to permit interference. As the Irregulars and Mr. Caesar tried to fight their way to the queen and her petitioner-captive, the mists rolled back and the far wall of the great hall of Carlton House began to rebuild itself with uncanny speed.
The majority of the mortal attendees had the foresight to stay well clear of the aperture as it closed, and to make no effort to follow Titania into her place of power. This was sensible of them, but their presence as spectators still proved an impediment to those attempting a more reckless pursuit, meaning that by the time Mr. Caesar reached the aperture-that-was, it wasn’t.
“Come back,” he yelled at the unyielding brickwork. “Come back here and …” He wasn’t quite sure what theandwas, and so he left it forever uncompleted. And when Captain James’s hand came down gently on his shoulder, he put his own hand over it and let it rest for a moment in comfort.
“We need to go,” the captain whispered. “Barryson did his best, but it’s clear he’s not a real toff. And the magistrates will not take us sneaking into a royal ball lightly.”
He was right, of course. And even had he not been, whatreason was there to stay? Mr. Caesar had lost track of both his sisters, and while he had reason to hope Anne would be well, he could not be certain of it. His first instinct was to hang his head in shame, but shame had bought him nothing so far. So he swallowed his fears, fell in behind Captain James, and trusted not to fate, but to action.
“No fucking authority?” Barryson was saying as they assembled outside. “I’ll give her no fucking authority.”
“And how, pray, will you do that?” asked Lady Georgiana, who had left alongside the Irregulars, reasoning that little would happen that evening that topped an otherworldly intervention and an abduction.
“Be nice, Georgiana,” chided Miss Mitchelmore. “We’re none of us planning to give up on Mary, are we, John?”
Mr. Caesar agreed in theory but was having trouble in practice. He did not lack for determination, but he sorely lacked for ideas. “No,” he said somewhat unconvincedly. “Although since she just walked through a wall into a world that is not on any map, I fear we may need to regroup at least.”
“Situation like this,” Captain James told him, “you need to follow quick. We don’t know what’s happening to her.”
