“Enough,” said the King. “Clear the room. Get these men out of here and let in some air, for the love of God.”
The two uniformed knights pushed the men back and they reversed with some difficulty back down the passage. It was some time before the noise died away. The King remained silent throughout. No one else dared speak.
When the men had finally gone, the King turned to Aimery. “How did you come here, this night?”
“My Liege, I heard through my own means that these men conspired. I sought only to protect…”
“No, you fool!” said the King. “Did you come by river or road?”
Aimery was taken aback. “I came by river, My Liege.”
“Good,” said the King, “then you’ve done something right. Wait outside with my men. I will speak with you later.” The uniformed knights escorted Aimery down the passage after his men. The King waited until Aimery was well out of earshot before speaking again. He turned to the scarred man that had come into the room before him.
“When does the tide turn?” asked the King.
“Within the hour, Majesty.”
“The river is in flood,” said the King. “A man could go overboard on a night like this and no one would ever see him again.”
“I will see to it, Majesty,” said the man. He bowed and turned to leave.
“And make sure his men understand their fate if word of this should spread,” said the King.
The man nodded and followed the path Aimery had taken down the passage, leaving the King with the knights. “Rise,” he said.
The men got to their feet stiffly having knelt on the cold stone. It was Le Brun who spoke. “We are in your debt, Majesty,” he said.
“You’ve been careless,” said the King. “If Aimery knows of this, then it is possible that others do too.”
“We will be more careful,” said Le Brun.
The King walked slowly around the room, circling the men. None of them moved. He appeared lost in thought. The only sound in the room was the occasional spit and hiss of the flares and the tap of the King’s boots on the stone.
“It’s not enough,” said the King,”
“I beg your pardon, Majesty?” said Le Brun. “We will do everything in our power…”
“It will never be enough. How much do you love your King?”
“Above my life, Majesty,” said Le Brun.
“Above your life…” said the King, continuing to walk around them. “And you?” The King fixed each man with a stare as he circled them. Each man said he would give his life.
“It is the burden of Kings that we must often ask more than those who serve us are prepared to give,” said the King. “It was ever thus.”
“Niall Petersen?” Blackbird’s voice cut across the King, making Niall start where he stood. I looked around nervously wondering whether they too could hear it. But the King continued circling the men.
“It’s time to come home,” her voice insisted.
“I have something I want you to do for me,” said the King to the knights. “It’s more than I’ve asked of you before.” The light was dimming, as if the flares were expiring.
“Come home.” said Blackbird.
“Anything, Majesty,” said Le Brun.
“Come home,” repeated Blackbird.
The light faded until only the scent of burning flares was left.
Niall opened his eyes.
“Dad!” said Alex, and threw her arms around his neck, hugging him fiercely.
“What on earth is the matter with you?” said Niall, hugging her back.
There was a sharp rapping on the door. Fionh’s voice came through into the room. “Open up!” she called. “What are you doing in there?”
Blackbird stood and went to the door, opening it wide so that Fionh could see inside the room. “It’s late, Fionh. To what do we owe this honour?”
Fionh had her weapon drawn and held low. She scanned the room, noting Niall’s position on the bed with Alex, the drops of red on the quilt, the flattened area of quilt where Blackbird had been sitting beside Niall. “You’ve got a nerve, Mistress. You know better than to work blood rituals in this house,” she said.
“I was under the impression,” said Blackbird, “That the warders were here for our protection. Your wardings have a weakness, Fionh, because something got through and had Niall in its grasp. It took a blood ritual to release him.”
“Garvin will hear about this,” said Fionh.
“Then I shall look forward to a discussion on improving the protection offered by the courts,” said Blackbird. “Unless you’re planning to start waving that weapon around?”
Fionh sheathed the blade in one smooth movement, scanning the room again so that she would be able to report every detail. “Tomorrow, then,” she said.
“Always a pleasure,” said Blackbird, closing the door on her.
“What was that all about?” asked Niall.
“I could ask you the same question,” said Blackbird.
Mist was rising over the frosted fields beyond the fence that marked the boundary of the house, drifting like smoke on the night-breeze between the trees. Alex watched it as she walked out from the shadows below the oak tree to lean on the fence. The December night had cleared and the moon had set early, leaving glinting stars. Goosebumps prickled her arms but she was damned if she was going back for a jumper.
Blackbird had made her dad tell them all about the dream, and even made him write down the names of the knights, but just when it was getting interesting Blackbird had declared herself tired and sent Alex off to bed. Alex suspected that she wanted to talk to her dad without her overhearing, but however resentful she felt at being excluded, there was nothing she could do about it.
It was only just past midnight, and her thumb hurt like hell. How was she supposed to sleep when it throbbed like that? It felt twice the size it normally was, though there was little sign of any swelling. Maybe it would get infected and puff up like a balloon — only she didn’t get infections, not any more. The magic that ran through her veins was like a possessive disease that left no room for any other, and like a disease, it would claim her in the end.
She turned to face the house. She knew there would be a nightlight in the nursery, but from here the house looked dead and cold, the windows blank against the stars. She tried to picture it as a family home with servants and guests, but it was too big and too empty to fill with her imagination. She’d walked the passages lined with one room after another covered in dust sheets, the curtains drawn to keep out the fading sunlight. Even when they’d had mongrel fey staying, the house had swallowed them with apparent ease.
“What are you doing?”
Alex started at the sudden question, and then forced herself to relax. Of course Fionh had snuck up on her. That was Fionh’s way. She couldn’t just walk up like any normal person, she had to make you jump.
“I was thinking about the house, and how lonely it must feel,” Alex replied, truthfully.
“I’d have thought you’d had enough excitement for one evening,” said Fionh.
“I wanted some air.”
“Your thumb is bleeding,” said Fionh. Alex lifted it, regarding the fat droplet that swelled from the gouge, and then sucked it, tasting once again the metallic tang.
“Be wary where you let the drops fall,” Fionh warned. “There are those who will make more of a few drops of blood that you’d have a liking for.”