Page 15 of The Last Bell
“My duty is to my people, not my pride,” Katita says with no warmth at all, turning away.
The minutes tick by in a gut-churning wait that makes me question the wisdom of my plan more with each passing heartbeat.
By the time Thad and several guards escort Zake to the podium, I’m ready to empty my stomach into the nearest hedge and have to swallow several times just to keep my stance. When I force my spine to straighten, I find Katita watching me with a curious gaze.I almost don’t recognize her without the usual scorn twisting her stunning features. Owalin’s threat to her kingdom has revealed her true colors—crises have a way of doing that.
“You are afraid of him?” she asks quietly enough to keep the wind from picking up her words. “This human. Why?”
“Filthy lying wench!” Zake’s words pierce the crowd from where he walks, saving me from having to answer Katita’s question. “I knew the moment of truth would come. And now it has, with the whole world seeing you for the creature you are.”
The princess lifts her chin, pointing to a spot on the ground right below her. “You seem to know quite a bit about this fae. If you have noble blood in you as you claim, I expect you to indulge us with an explanation that is appropriate for my ears.”
Zake flinches at the command in Katita’s tone, his bruised body straightening before the princess. When he speaks again, his tone is as civil as I’ve ever heard it.
“Of course, Your Highness. I forgot myself a moment.” Zake tugs down the hem of his shirt, still the plain brown servant’s uniform he was wearing when jailed. A thin layer of scruff now covers his face, matching the dark, wiry hair on his head. “Many years ago, I let an orphan girl into my home. Gave the wretched child a bed and bowl. Taught her a trade. Taught her discipline and honesty. Or so I thought.” Zake shakes his head, the disappointment hanging around him like a heavy cloak. “At the first opportunity, the wench traded her maidenhead for corruption. More than that, she took everything I’d worked for decades to create and bargained it away to the fae in exchange for being made one of them. That orphan turned backstabbing thief now stands beside you, Your Highness. And I swear on my life that, given a chance, she will take what’s yours just as she took what’s mine.”
My hands clench at my side, even River’s steady gray gaze unable to save me from the sting of each of Zake’s lies.
Katita’s eyes narrow at the man. “Do you mean to say that Leralynn was once human? A serving girl in your stable and under your authority?”
“That is exactly what I’m saying.” Zake raises his chin in triumph as a murmur goes through the crowd. Many sets of eyes turn to me, filled with questions, before widening as they find Katita’s disgusted gaze.
“Keep that filth silent,” Katita orders the guards, staring down Zake as he begins sputtering. Turning to me, the princess schools her face, though the curiosity dancing in her eyes is plain to see. “Might I presume that the price of immortality was slightly higher than a maidenhead?” she asks of me.
“The price was death.” I try and fail to force a smile. “I don’t recommend it.”
A humorless chuckle touches the princess’s face. “So you were one of us. And now you are back. Why?”
The crowd’s attention swings to me, the murmuring quieting. Waiting for my answer. In the corner of my vision, I catch River raising a brow at me. I’ve gotten the platform and audience I fought for, his gaze says. Now what? What speech have I prepared to give them?
Except, unlike River, I have no speech to give. All I have is the truth.
I draw a deep breath, letting the air fill my chest. “Because I made a mistake. We all did. Ages ago, our ancestors set up wards to ensure that no magic enters the mortal world. A few months ago, the Elders Council in Lunos received reports that those wards were cracking and dispatched my quint—under cover of a magic veil—to correct the problem. We came to secretly protect you from us, with no intention of ever telling you the truth. But that was folly.”
“Because mortals don’t deserve your protection?” The sarcasm in Katita’s voice drips like honey.
“Because mortals can protect themselves,” I say, twisting toward her, the rest of the courtyard suddenly dissolving into irrelevance. In the back of my mind, I wonder what Owalin is making of all this—if he is bothering to listen to the chattering of lower life-forms, that is. But it doesn’t matter. The truth is the truth no matter how blind the bastard is to it. “We can be your allies, Katita—we can’t be your puppet masters. The truth is that, for all the faes’ magic and immortality, the human world is so much larger than the three kingdoms of Lunos that a battle would wipe everyone out evenly.”
I look at the door to the Great Hall, looming behind the crowd and a wall of brave human guards. The place my quint cannot assault without destroying it, not by ourselves. With the rain having finally died down to a light mist, torches and lanterns have flickered on all around the courtyard, casting dramatic shadows on the towering stone. The clouds are beginning to clear, revealing a silver-blue sky, just tingeing orange on the edges.
Turning my attention back to the courtyard, I continue. “On our way here, my quint and I wore amulets to trick your mind into believing us humans. But then I accidentally tripped a bit of stray magic, which made the males believe the veil’s lies for a long time. I thought it was all my fault for being careless. For tripping that magic. But that wasn’t the real problem—the real problem started when we donned the amulets to begin with. When we decided to take the choice away from you.”
I pause, suddenly realizing that the courtyard has gone silent, the words spilling from my soul filling the air with an intoxicating tension. For a second, all I can do is blink as I remember where I am. Who I’m talking to.
Katita nods at me, the tiny motion like a new jolt of strength circling my core.
“There are fae inside the Great Hall who hold your loved ones hostage,” I tell the crowd. “We didn’t bring them here. They came well before us. And we aren’t going to storm your fortress, fighting a battle you do not want fought. These are your kingdoms, your lands, your choices. Just as our realms could never battle without wiping both our peoples to dust, my quint cannot battle the Night Guard without killing everyone in the Great Hall. There would be no victory for either side. This standoff will end not with magic, but with your steel. Or your surrender. The choice is yours alone.”
Reaching to my back, I draw the blade I have sheathed there, the steel whispering as it’s freed into the cool air. The collective breath of the crowd stills as I raise the blade above my head, letting the first rays of sunlight after the storm reflect off the shaft. “My mates and I are here to help, should you wish it. But make no mistake, the true power is with you. As is your victory.” Turning the weapon, I hand it hilt first to Katita. “The fae of Lunos are in your kingdom at your sufferance, Your Highness. And we await your orders.”
11
Owalin
“What in the bloody stars’ name is that?” Owalin asked, staring out the bay window where a dark, swirling wall of something was forming up before his very eyes.
Behind him, the two hundred hostages has been subdued into proper order, the kings’ clerks drawing up contracts along the tables set up against the back wall. His people had arranged food on the right side of the hall, where the families of the lesser nobles who’d signed an allegiance pledge to the Night Guard were allowed to go while the others watched hungrily. The five monarchs were stillthinkingthings over, but it was only a matter of time. While River’s wench was busy making speeches to hamsters, the Fothom king and the clerks had slunk away just as the bell tolled the deadline, the whole lot of them red-faced and shaking as they beheld the prince whose throat was a second away from being sliced open.
Owalin was a male of his word, after all—and the hamsters needed to know that with every fiber of their being. After all, Owalin required more than kings’ signatures—he required their submission. The mortal world was too large for the Night Guard to hold under constant sword, and cultivating the right proxies required a proper mix of stick and carrot. It also required setting firm rules and sticking to them for as long as it took the feeble-minded creatures to learn better than to doubt Owalin’s decrees. Breaking a good workhorse to bit took time.
