Heirs of Chrior: The Empty Throne Part 12

He nodded, clenching his jaw, then returned to the pressing matter at hand. "I can get some. Just go with Luka, and I'll join you shortly."

I hesitated, gazing into his earnest face, unable to imagine him engaging in illegal activities.

"You can get...what we need?"

"Yes, though not in the way you're thinking." His voice had an edge of disapproval, and my tetchy nervous system responded with superfluous motion-I chewed on my lower lip, twining my hands while I shifted from foot to foot. "But I arrest people who do. So rejoin Luka, and I'll be there shortly."

With a hand on my back, he escorted me to the door. Despite the urgency of my mission, I stopped and turned toward him, searching his eyes for a clue as to his thoughts and desperately wanting to offer an explanation or an excuse. But he didn't give me time for either.

"Out you go," he said, grabbing the handle. The brusqueness of his manner confirmed that he was disappointed in me, and served to spark the irritability that seemed to always lie beneath the surface of my skin.

"You're not my father," I snapped.

He gave me a tight smile. "I'm glad you noticed. Otherwise, I'd be forced to rethink certain highly enjoyable aspects of our relationship." I blushed, and he added, "I'm not about to ignore what I found here, Anya. I'm just putting off the conversation until later."

I held his gaze, then stepped into the corridor, leaving him to deal with the potential problem represented by the maid.

"Now, Galina," I heard him say, "I must impress upon you the delicate nature of..."

The door closed behind me, the sound immediately garnering Luka's attention.

"Well?" he called, striding toward me from halfway down the corridor.

"I don't have the Sale. I must have lost it somewhere on my journey."

The hope that had allayed the lines in Luka's face vanished like morning mist. "We'd best tell the Governor. It's been extremely difficult to get him to consider the use of Sale, and I'm not sure where this leaves us."

"At breakfast...is that what you and your father were arguing about?"

He didn't seem surprised by my question. "Yes, it's a discussion we've had several times over the last few days. Although I could easily get my hands on Sale, the Governor is steadfast in his belief that we shouldn't violate the law. The supply you volunteered to retrieve took him by surprise and appeared to resolve the issue. Now, I'm not sure."

Though I wanted to ease his worry and tell him about Tom, I couldn't bring myself to do so. How would I explain Officer Matlock's presence in my room? And my confession wasn't necessary-either way, the young man would arrive to save the day. Then my breath caught. How would he explain his errand to find the Sale? But that was not my problem. I needed to get Luka away from the door to allow Tom the opportunity to obtain what we needed.

Luka and I returned to the west turret to find the Governor sitting in a well-cushioned armchair next to the bed, applying a wet compress to his grandson's fevered forehead. He looked up at our entrance.

"Do you have the Sale?" A disdainful expression flickered across his face, as if he couldn't quite believe he was going to overlook the use of an illegal and deadly substance.

Luka met his father's eyes. "No, Anya was mistaken about having a flask with her. But you and I both know I can obtain some."

"That is not open for discussion. We must set an example in all things-my chief law enforcement officer cannot procure an illegal substance." The Governor rose to his feet, his grim bearing enough to chill the air. He had no doubt been a fierce warrior in his younger days. "Perhaps we need to accept that if it is the boy's time to die, our job is to ease his pa.s.sing."

"No," I contradicted, moving to stand at the foot of the bed. "He lingers because it is his will to do so. We must support him in any way we can."

I crossed to the side of the bed opposite the Governor and touched Zabriel's arm, fear rising within me like a snake. There was a light sheen of sweat on my cousin's forehead, his cheeks were gaunt, and his lips looked parched-there was a fire raging inside him that needed to be quenched, and soon.

"How long has he been like this?" I murmured, not specifically addressing either of the older men.

Luka answered. "When he was initially brought here, he was in pain but coherent. Then the fever took hold and he gradually worsened. We've been managing to get water down his throat, but he's had little sustenance in the last couple of days."

"How did you know who he was?"

"His ring and his manner told us many things, despite his belligerence. We learned the rest when the sickness took him and his defenses went down. At times, he was quite restless, both in body and mind."

"I don't understand why sky iron is having such a significant effect on him," I murmured, and Luka came to stand next to me. "My cousin has no magic, no elemental connection. Sky iron has no special effect on humans, so it shouldn't necessarily harm him."

"Zabriel presents a number of interesting contradictions. After all, even with no elemental connection, he can safely cross the Road. And you said he can drink Sale, though I must a.s.sume that you yourself cannot, or, more precisely, can no longer."

I cast him a quizzical glance, wondering how he had reached that conclusion.

"Your fresh injuries and the loss of your wings, Anya. I a.s.sume you would have healed yourself if you could."

I nodded, and he laid a fatherly hand on my shoulder, eliciting the same response that had washed over me at the station house-the desire to collapse against him, to give up my burdens and feel safe within the shelter of his arms. But I resisted, holding on stringently to my poise, and he finished his thought.

"Magic or no, Anya, there is Fae nature deep within your cousin. It is to that we must trust."

The forceful opening of the bedroom door drew all eyes, and Luka's hand dropped to the pistol at his hip. But it was hope, not alarm, that surged inside me, for salvation had arrived. Tom stood just inside the room, a flask of Sale clutched in one hand.

"Officer Matlock, this is most irregular," the Governor berated him, rising to his feet, Konstantin adding his own growl. I had the feeling Wolfram was accustomed to using his height and broad-shouldered build to intimidate people.

"It's all right, Father," Luka appeased, crossing the room to take the Sale. The Governor might not have caught on to the reason for the Constabulary's arrival, but little escaped his son.

"But what is he doing here?" the Governor continued. "This part of the mansion is off-limits."

"Answer the question, Tom," Luka directed, striding to Zabriel's side without waiting for his officer's response. He lifted Zabriel's head and shoulders, and I climbed onto the bed to cradle my cousin against my chest and provide support. Given the Governor's apparent black-and-white approach to the law, I was afraid he would protest, would try to stop us from administering the healing tonic. I met the Lieutenant Governor's eyes, and it struck me that Luka was plagued by the same worry and was using Tom to keep the Governor's focus elsewhere.

"I've brought Sale, sir," Tom explained, and Luka poured a small amount of the drink into the Prince's mouth, watching to ensure he had swallowed. "I took some items to the evidence room in keeping with my job, and pocketed this on my way out. No one has reason to suspect anything."

Luka administered several more sips to Zabriel, then set the Sale on a small table next to the bed.

"Now we wait," he announced for the benefit of everyone in the room.

I nodded, gazing at my cousin for some sign of improvement, though I knew Sale did not work instantaneously. And its healing power brought its own ordeal. When a healthy Faerie drank the substance, tendrils of its warmth would spread throughout the body, causing a pleasant tingling sensation that awoke the senses and the spirit. But when one was injured or sick, the warmth would seek out the cause and core of the problem, strangling infection as one might wring water from a rag. The more severe a wound or illness, the more acute the sensations-searing heat, spasms of pain, even convulsions if the work of the Sale wasn't isolated to a specific part of the body.

"Well?" the Governor demanded, turning his attention to us. "When will we know if it's working?"

"He won't die," I muttered under my breath. I caught Luka's fleeting smile, and knew he had heard my comment. Raising the volume of my voice, I expressly addressed Wolfram. "He'll become restless. Instead of this lethargy, he'll exhibit signs of pain, though the pain will come from healing and is necessary and good. No matter how it appears, we must keep giving him the Sale, a few sips every hour. The more he has in his system, the more quickly he'll recover."

"Understood," Luka responded, his eyes catching Tom's movement as the young man pivoted to leave the room. "One moment, Officer Matlock. How did you know we had need of Sale?"

My breath caught, and I tightened my good hand around the collar of Zabriel's nightshirt.

"I knew you were considering its use. And I was aware of Anya's-that is, Princess Anya's-presence in the mansion. It seemed to me the time was right." He shrugged. "Either that or I'm clairvoyant."

Luka laughed, the Governor scowled, I smiled...and Zabriel moaned.

"Dismissed," Luka abruptly finished. "And not a word of this to anyone."

"Yes, sir."

I accepted a damp sponge from Luka, aware from the click of the door that Tom had departed, and wiped sweat off my cousin's brow and neck. I was rewarded with flickers of movement behind his closed eyelids.

"Zabriel," I murmured, resisting the urge to shake him. "It's Anya. I'm here, and you're going to feel better in no time."

His mouth moved and his dark eyes opened to momentarily fix on my face.

"Nice hair," he whispered. Then he was lost once more to the fever.

I laughed, elated, and met Luka's relieved gaze.

"He's going to be fine, just fine." Then I looked to the Governor, who had retaken his seat in the armchair on the other side of Zabriel's bed. "You made the right decision about the Sale, Wolfram. It's illegal because it can be used to take human life, but in this instance, its properties restored life. Because the wound was inflicted with sky iron, it appears nothing else could have done that."

He inclined his head slightly. "I appreciate your insight. You are wise beyond your years."

"I quite agree," Luka exclaimed, briskly rubbing his hands together, the mood in the room noticeably brighter. "Now then, I will inform our physician to once more take over the Prince's care. And, Anya, you should go with my father-I suspect he'll want to review with you the plans for Queen Ubiqua's stay."

My eyes widened in shock at the very suggestion I should leave Zabriel. I opened my mouth to object, but Luka held up his hand.

"I know you want to stay with him, but he needs rest, and now is not the time to draw attention to this part of the mansion. Don't fret-I'll bring you to see him again tonight."

I fidgeted, wanting to argue with him. Though I really could not dispute his reasoning, I didn't like the situation in the least. In the end, however, I nodded, aware that I was forming a lovehate relationship with Luka Ivanova.

The Lieutenant Governor departed, and for all intents and purposes, I found myself alone with Wolfram Ivanova. I slid out from behind Zabriel to stand next to the bed, and carefully piled pillows underneath his head and shoulders, waiting for the Governor to indicate we should leave. When he did not seem inclined to do so, I glanced awkwardly around the room, uncertain of the reason we were delaying and having no idea how to open a conversation with him. He was a human man nearing his seventies, while I was a sixteen-year-old female Fae-our backgrounds, experiences, and cultures were worlds apart.

At length, the Governor met my eyes, an unexpected touch of sadness in his expression.

"Tell me about my grandson," he invited. "About his childhood and upbringing. I've missed so much, and it would help me to know him better."

I was strangely touched by the request, and it was simple enough for me to fulfill. Zabriel in his youth was an easy subject for me to address. There were many stories about my bold, independent, and rule-defying cousin. So long as Wolfram didn't ask me about Zabriel's pirating life, I could talk for days.

"Let me see." I considered for a moment, then launched into the tale of how my cousin became the youngest Fae anyone could remember to take the plummet from the Crag. The Governor settled back in his armchair to listen, a smile for once gracing his features.

The Governor and I ate a light lunch together, still discussing his grandson, in a brilliantly sun-lit solarium with fragrant greenery all around. I now understood how he could decorate the mansion with blooms from flowers that should have been out of season. For a man with a gruff exterior, he had some very refined interests.

When lunch concluded, he escorted me to his office to meet with the Fae Amba.s.sadors, neither of whom was well-known to me, for they had held their positions since before I was born and generally returned to Chrior but once a year. They reported to my father on happenings in the Territory, the political climate, military maneuvers, and the criminal element, attempting to monitor the level of danger that might be posed to Fae. My father, in turn, pa.s.sed on the information he thought important to the Queen. For the first time, I wondered how the amba.s.sadors could have missed Zabriel's wanted poster. Did they not know the Prince well enough to catch the likeness?

The Governor's cherry-paneled office was larger than my entire alcove in the Great Redwood, with a thick gold carpet, shelves of books, walls hung with war memorabilia, and portraits of his ancestors. There was also a portrait of Konstantin and several of the pup's ancestors. It appeared that the Governor had long coveted this particular breed of dog.

Right on cue, Konstantin entered with a servant who bore wine on a silver tray, then took his place on a circular cushion to the side of the Governor's gold-inlaid desk. Apparently very little work was done in the mansion without the accompaniment of drink-or, in Wolfram Ivanova's case, the dog.

Amba.s.sador Aster was tall and dignified, with a hint of fleshiness beneath her traditional Fae garments-a sage-green floor-length gown, decorated with colorful embroidery and cinched in with a braided rope belt. Her slate-blue wings tinged with pale yellow were visible and partially unfurled. The smile with which she greeted me was less warm than I thought it would be, given the lack of royal visitors to the Warck.u.m Territory, and the slight furrow in her brow suggested she did not approve of my choice of hair color. Faeries, as a rule, did not dye their hair, believing the natural state was best in most things. This was likewise the reason women generally did not cut their hair, true also of highly traditional Fae men. Given the number of years Amba.s.sador Aster had spent among the humans, I would have expected her to have embraced more aspects of their culture.

The second of the Fae representatives to the Warck.u.m Territory, Amba.s.sador Oersted, was almost the total opposite of his counterpart. A tad shorter and more rotund, he was dressed in a russet coat and black trousers, styled in the fashion of prominent male humans. His smile and handshake were enthusiastic, and his dark hair, cut to fall near the cheekbones, showed gray only at the temples. He could have pa.s.sed for human if not for his headdress of twined roots and his black wings with haphazard orange bands of varying widths. It didn't surprise me that he was a full ten years younger than Amba.s.sador Aster.

The Governor settled into his high-backed desk chair, while I sat in an armchair on the opposite side of him from Konstantin-although I knew this was an honor, it was strange to be occupying a position similar to the dog, a feeling Luka appeared to know well. The amba.s.sadors took up seats facing the Governor in chairs placed in front of his desk.

After exchanging news of my father and aunt with the Fae representatives, the conversation turned to the food and drink to be served at the reception Queen Ubiqua would be given upon her arrival, one of the few decisions yet to be finalized. Although both of the amba.s.sadors could see I had lost my wings, neither commented on it, for which I was extremely grateful. I would have to give details of the ordeal soon enough to my family, and talking about it was still difficult.

"I maintain my previous a.s.sertion that you should serve traditional Fae delicacies only," Amba.s.sador Aster declared. "This is one occasion when humans should show honor by adopting our traditions. Wine and ale can suffice as beverages, although, of course, Sale is our celebratory drink. On the occasion of this auspicious event, you might consider suspending the ban against it so that it can at least be offered to the Queen and those attending her."

My eyes widened at this bold request, although the Governor's expression did not change.

"And what have you to say?" he asked, directing the question to Amba.s.sador Oersted.

"My opinion has mellowed somewhat. I agree that Fae delicacies should be served, but see no harm in offering them alongside human dishes. Both cultures can acknowledge that of the other. And while Sale is our traditional drink, you don't have to suspend your laws to accommodate us, although I'm sure such a gesture would be appreciated."

The Governor rubbed his salt-and-pepper beard, considering. Then to my surprise, he turned to me. Knowing his almost violent reaction to the use of Sale, I wasn't about to a.s.sert that the drink be served, whatever the circ.u.mstances, and I found myself siding with Amba.s.sador Oersted on the subject of the meal.

"I think it would be appropriate to serve both Fae and human foods, but would recommend wine and apple cider for beverages. Ale if that is a human preference, although it's not a drink with which we Fae are accustomed. Sale is not necessary, and the serving of it could be disastrous if it accidentally ended up in the cup of a human."

The Governor gave me a fleeting smile. "Then the decision is made. I thank you all for your wise counsel but will follow Anya's suggestion since it is in line with my own thoughts."

"One other issue, then, Governor." It was Amba.s.sador Oersted who had spoken; Amba.s.sador Aster was busy giving me a death glare. Reacting to her intemperate mood, Konstantin gave a low rumbling growl, causing her to flinch. "Will music be included to honor the occasion?"

"Yes, I had thought trumpet blasts upon the Queen's entrance, followed by soft string instruments during the formal dinner."

"Might I suggest harps in the background instead of violins and such? The musical selections would be of your choice, naturally."

"That can be arranged. Anything else?"

"Yes," I hastily interjected. Konstantin's presence had reminded me of a certain peculiarity of Queen Ubiqua's, one I dreaded to mention but knew I must. "The Queen doesn't particularly like dogs."

All eyes in the room fixated on me, and I felt as if I had just set off an explosion. Perhaps in a way I had, for the impression I was receiving was that the questioning of Konstantin's partic.i.p.ation in any event involving the Governor was akin to committing suicide.

"No," Wolfram resolutely stated, his heavy black brows drawing close. "In this instance, Queen Ubiqua will have to adjust."

"Of course," I fumbled, aware of the mistake I had made. "I should not have brought it up. I'm sorry."

"No harm in the suggestion, Anya," the Governor returned, his expression less forbidding. "But on this I stand firm."

Since there was nothing more to be discussed, the meeting concluded, the amba.s.sadors respectfully taking their leave. I played with the folds of my dress, knowing I should likewise depart but not wanting to return to my bedroom-Luka's office was also on the second floor, putting me in much too close proximity to Tom Matlock.

"Excuse me, Wolfram," I hesitantly interrupted.

He looked up from the papers he was shuffling on his desk, a flicker of irritation crossing his face. "Is there something you need?"

"There's nothing I need, but something for me to do would be nice."

"I see." He sat back in his chair, then motioned for his personal secretary to approach. "Escort the Princess back to the solarium and introduce her to my gardener. Perhaps she can a.s.sist him in some way."

"Yes, Governor." The man approached, motioning with his hand for me to walk in front of him. "This way, please."

"Thank you, Wolfram," I said, sneaking a peek at the papers on top of his desk, wondering what work had him so occupied. To my surprise, I saw a design for a poster of the sort I had seen when I had stayed in the hospital in Tairmor, and I threw a hand over my mouth to stifle a giggle. Apparently, the Governor himself was the mastermind behind FAE not FOE: Faerie Rights Are Human Rights, and other slogans promoting positive Faehuman relations in the Warck.u.m Territory.

The servant did indeed introduce me to the gardener, who was most welcoming of my interest. The rest of the afternoon pa.s.sed pleasantly, I enjoying the feel of the dirt, the sun on my face, and the heady scents that hung in the air. Despite the loss of my wings, I was Fae, and I had spent too long in this human city that did its best to eradicate the spirit of Nature that was central to Fae life, to my life. And given the events on the horizon, I thought it might be one of the few moments of relaxation I would be afforded before the storms broke: the one that had been simmering between Zabriel and his mother since the day he had fled Chrior, and the one that had been building between the Queen and the Governor for nearly eighteen years.