Page 123 of Better in Black
I had not seen her since.
“You owe me, my sister,” she said. “And now you have something I want.”
I turned to look at her then. Celithe had raven-black hair that fell like a curtain of spider silk across her face. She peered at me through it, blinking wide doe eyes. The picture of innocence. Maybe Celithe had never been gentle, I sometimes thought. Maybe she’d only fooled her sisters as she’d fooled her lovers; maybe the monster had been there all along.
“It’s not usually your way to ask permission before taking from me what you want,” I said.
Celithe smiled. “I thought surely you’d forgotten our little dancing doll. He can’t have meant that much to you, Nene. He wasmortal.” She said it as you’d say the wordrottedorfoul.
I gritted my teeth. “What do you want, Celithe?”
“I want you to intercede on my behalf with the Queen. Have her appoint me as another handmaid.”
As if I had the power to do such a thing. The thought was ludicrous. The Queen barely allowed me to advise her on matters of healing; she certainly did not confide in me, or seek my counsel. But I wasn’t about to admit that to Celithe. Even the illusion of power is better than none at all.
“Why should I help you?” I asked. “You’ve already killed my lover, which leaves you with nothing left to threaten me with.”
“Nothing?” Celithe tapped a graceful finger to her ruby lips, a pantomime of contemplation. “What of the children of Nerissa? Miach and Alessa?”
“What of them?”
“They live, though their names are different now. Mark. And Helen.”
“I know,” I said.
“Ah, but they live as mortals. They have not been raised to fear Faerie, or to suspect danger from that quarter. It would be so easy to trick them to their deaths—”
“You imagine that is a threat?” I said, though my hands were shaking. “I do not know them.”
“Oh, Nene. Still our adorable little fool, after all these years; as ifyouhave to know those children to care about them. You have always cared too much about everyone. And now you will do what I wish, and we both know it.”
“And what is it you wish?” The Queen, appearing as if from nowhere in the doorway, spoke quietly. I tried to hide my surprise; she rarely visited my chamber. She was dressed all in blue and billowing green, a full gown that hid her pregnancy.
Celithe curtsied, and showed no fear in her face, but her hands, laced behind her back, were trembling. She had recognized the Queen’s voice as the voice used by true power, that need not threaten. Its word is will. “Only to serve you, my lady.”
The Queen clapped her hands together in a show of delight. “Wonderful. Your reputation is well known, and I have the perfect job for you. The Lighthouse on the Green Isle is in need of a keeper.”
Believe me when I say, rarely in my long life have I experienced such a jolt of amusement. To think of Celithe marooned on the Green Isle, with no one to torment but the occasional kelpie who washed up on her desolate shore? Delightful.
Celithe looked green. “I am not certain that position suits my particular skills, my lady.”
The Queen continued as if she had not spoken. “I shall appoint you as keeper for ten years. After that time, we will reconsider.”
“I…would prefer not to,” Celithe said, and surely even she understood she was on unsteady ground.
“Yet it is my will.” The Queen raised an eyebrow. “You said you wanted to serve me? This is how you will serve.”
Celithe opened her mouth, but no sound came out.
The Queen offered her a dainty wave. “You may go now.”
And I watched my sister, defeated, slink away to her fate. The Queen turned to me, expectant—perhaps wondering if I would offer complaint or gratitude.
I did neither. I bowed my head. “Do you have need of me, my lady?”
“Of course, Nene. Or I would not have come to you.”
It was the first time she had addressed me by name. She told me she’d been having trouble sleeping. The baby was restless in her womb. I offered to prepare her a sleeping draught, but she shook her head.
