Page 93 of The Last Wish of Bristol Keats
CHAPTER 68
Across Elphame, from the tiniest villages in the Whelky Lands, to the darkest lanes of Bogshollow, to the sparkling high towers of Lugh Bridge, windows were being shuttered. The Choosing Ceremony was in two days.
Creatures, from nobles to witches to trolls, were packing up and seeking refuge in the less traveled countryside, or in ancient mounds beneath the earth. Wild things tumbled in the wind, flying in hasty flocks to the southern islands to wait things out in caves, and forest sprites disappeared into the deep crevices of ageless trees.
It’s almost time, a warning message whispered from fae to fae, whisked through hearts and hollows.
Mae packed up too, but when she came to her chest of gold, she paused, and her eyes glittered. It was getting harder to lift, but that was what centuries of prudent hoarding accomplished. She would need to employ some stronger magic to lift it this time. It warmed her gristled heart to know how much she had acquired in the last century, and usually in the easiest of ways. Fae were foolish things. But with the city shuttering windows and locking doors in anticipation of the ceremony, there were no customers coming to her store anyway, and that meant no more gold to fill her chest. It was best to move on, at least for now, to someplace in the country, away from the nonsense of kings and queens. Maybe she would return to Queen’s Cliff, and stir up sightings of hungry dragons. She could always count on royals to give up handfuls of gold for information, whether it was true or not.
She peeped through her shutters. Yes, the streets were empty, everyone fleeing for less tempting targets in the country. There was no sense in staying. She swept her hand over a lustrous bolt of silk as she went back for her chest. It was an expensive fabric, and she hated to leave it behind. She paused, rubbing her bristly chin.Why leave any of it behind?She opened her bag of belongings and swept her hand through the store, all the bolts and goods tumbling and swirling and disappearing into her small bag. The goods would never come out quite the same on the other end, but it was better than losing it all. It would still have some worth. She prided herself on being a shrewd businesswoman. She hoisted up her chest of gold and left. In the end, she would come out ahead. She always did.
Of all the fae packing up, the steward of Elphame was surely the most reluctant and frightened. He was charged with bringing the Cauldron of Plenty to the Choosing Ceremony. He carefully wrapped and packed up the cauldron, sealing it in a sturdy crate for transport. He had dreaded this day ever since the queen died suddenly and her duties fell to him. Within days, the first attack on Elphame was launched. Fomoria had mostly been a forgotten, brutish territory on the northern border of Elphame, but always kept in check by the larger and stronger kingdoms. Not anymore. The power Fomoria wielded was crushing. The steward had never expected to be in this position. Would he even survive handing it over to the new ruler of Elphame?
CHAPTER 69
Kormick beamed at Maire in her green velvet gown. “You’re magnificent, my dear.”
“As are you,” Maire replied. “Battle clothes become you.” He gazed in the mirror, admiring his newly tailored clothes fit for both battle and coronation. His cream-colored tunic and cloak would gleam in the sun as he stepped up on the Stone of Destiny. “It’s all for show. There will be no battle, thanks to you.”
The wizard who had prepared the amulets embedded in Maire’s crown fastened the headpiece to the horns on her head. The diamonds shimmered against her copper hair. “My best work yet,” the wizard boasted. “Step to the side, Your Majesty, and I’ll demonstrate.”
Kormick did as he was advised, and the wizard instructed Maire not to worry. He drew the broad sword at his side, slashing upward before bringing it down toward Maire’s skull. Maire flinched, but a few inches from her head, the blade recoiled like it had hit a wall and flew from the wizard’s hand, clattering to the floor on the other side of the room.
“The magic is good for at least ten direct blows. If any trouble should break out, not a hair on her precious head will be harmed,” the wizard proclaimed. “Nor on yours,” he added, pointing to the other crown he had prepared for Kormick. The antique gold was rich and dignified, which would be perfect for the ceremony. Kormick wanted every aspect of the day to be etched in the witnesses’ memories. They would carry stories back to their cities, praising the day—and him. And with the cauldron in his possession, even kings and queens would be bending their knee to him. Especially kings like Trénallis, if he let him live at all.
“There will be no direct blows,” Kormick said, but thanked the wizard for his craft and artistry. He dismissed him before turning to Maire. “Does that ease your worries?”
“I’m not worried,” she said. “I only detest being in the middle of these large affairs. Besides, no one is going to challenge you, unless they’re fools. You’ve already proven your strength to them.”
Kormick lifted her hand and kissed the back of it. “I agree. But you deserve this moment. I deserve this moment. No kingdom will ever ignore us again. We’ve earned this, Maire. Let’s see it through to the end. I need you there. Just in case. Please, I believe in you. Believe in me too.”
And she did. He had always been there for her. He gave her what no else would. Power.
CHAPTER 70
It was the damnedest thing. Quin didn’t know quite what to think. Seeing the Royal Counselor suited up in leathers for battle, instead of robes for tackling contracts and statutes, made his head hurt. Like he was watching some warped sleight of hand that was going to explode in his face.
“Stop gawking,” Cosette said.
“Tyghan will explain what happened when he’s ready,” Melizan added.
“Maybe Kasta is ill,” Sloan suggested. “When we have more privacy, he’ll tell us.”
“Ill?” Cully said warily. “She seemed fine this morning. A little jumpy maybe, but that’s the only explanation that makes sense.”
Quin rubbed his chin. “If she’s so sick that even the High Witch can’t get her back on her feet, then it must be serious.”
All Tyghan had said so far was that Kasta was taking care of other matters in private, and that Eris was now his First Officer.
“He seems to know what he’s doing,” Dalagorn grumbled, as mystified as Quin. They watched Eris walking alongside Tyghan and Commander Maddox, just ahead of them, checking the wagons that would depart that evening. The wagons carried the tents and supplies to set up for the parley. The advance teams would also secure Danu’s place on the rim of the valley and set up the tents so they were ready when the “witnesses” arrived. With forty witnesses, they’d have the biggest spread of tents on the rim. Eris gave the advance team specifics, the order of the tents, and exactly how far each should be set back from the rim—like he understood tactical maneuvers.
“One thing is certain,” Cully said, “the counselor will scrutinize every last detail.”
“And where the hell did he get that Gildan sword?” Quin asked. It had gemstones in it they didn’t recognize. It was decorated with the three traditional rubies of a Danu knight, but also had an enormous trillion-cut emerald. No one, not even Tyghan, had an emerald like that.
Melizan silently noted Eris’s physique, which his robes and loose clothing had always hidden. He appeared fit for the role of First Officer, but did he actually know how to use that sword on his back? But there was something in his walk, a certain swagger, not unlike Tyghan’s, that told her, yes, he knew how to use it.
Tyghan and Eris signed off on the last wagon and headed back toward the officers.
