Once Broken Faith (October Daye #10)(107)
Sylvester let go of my arm when we reached the row where Luna was seated. I offered him a smile. He nodded in reply, and walked away, leaving me standing alone in the center of the aisle. No use in putting this off any longer. I turned to face the dais, and curtsied deeply before I rose and said, “Sorry for the disruption. I figured if I was awake, I should probably get over here.”
“Sir Daye,” said Aethlin. “You’re . . . surprisingly mobile, considering.”
“I heal fast,” I said, with a quick, one-shouldered shrug. “Jin told me you’d taken my blood to determine what happened. Did you have any questions for me, or are you content with the order of events?”
“I doubt I’ll ever be content with a choice that left three of my vassals dead, an abused woman equally so, and a brave knight on the verge of following them into the dark.” The fact that he was willing to say “dead,” rather than something flowery and useless like “has stopped dancing” did more to drive home the gravity of his words than anything else could have done. They were gone. They were dead, and they had died in a way that forced this collection of fae royalty to admit it, to actually see it. There was something incredible about that. Mostly, though, it was just sad.
High King Aethlin took a breath, steadying himself, and continued, “But I’m content that you took all measures within your power to try to prevent this tragedy; you did not act out of anger or the need for revenge, however justified you might have been; and you did not break Oberon’s Law. You have not committed murder.”
Hearing him say that should have felt good. I wasn’t going to stand trial, again, for something that I didn’t do. All I felt was tired. “Cool,” I said. “We still talking about the whole ‘should we distribute the cure for elf-shot’ thing?”
“Yes,” said Maida.
“Cool,” I said again. I looked toward the King of Copper. “I’m really sorry to ask for this, but I’m still wobbly, and my fiancé and my squire have both been elf-shot. I’d like to go and sit with them for a while. Do you mind yielding the floor for a moment?”
He minded; I could see it in his eyes. He just had no way of saying so without coming off as insulting, and possibly winding up challenged to a duel for my honor. Under the circumstances, I was okay with that. “Please,” he said.
“Come to the stage,” said Arden. “Given what you’ve done for us, you should be heard.”
Walking the last ten feet to the stairs that would take me to the stage seemed to take almost as long as walking from the back of the gallery. Karen and the Luidaeg were seated in the short row of chairs that had previously held us all; they looked very alone there, even when the Luidaeg offered me a quick, almost solemn smile and an equally hasty thumbs-up. I nodded to them, trying to keep my nerves under control, and took up the spot where I had stood to explain how the cure was formulated in the first place. It seemed like such a long time ago. It was definitely several ruined dresses and a lot of bloodshed ago.
I didn’t want to do this. I had no right to do this.
I had to do this.
“My name is October Daye,” I said, looking toward the audience. “Knight of Lost Words, sworn in service to Duke Sylvester Torquill of Shadowed Hills, daughter of Amandine the Liar.” When did I start thinking of my mother using the title the other Firstborn gave to her? Probably when I found out how much of my life she’d spent lying to me. “I, uh, have spoken to you before, so I guess you knew all of that. And I know the High King has told you what he learned from my blood, how Queen Verona and King Kabos decided to take this conclave as an opportunity to get rid of some people they didn’t find politically convenient. But what I really want to talk to you about is how they did it. See, they were royalty. Nobility, just like most of you, and they knew the Law. So they didn’t kill anyone. They threatened the sister of one of their vassals, and used that vassal as a weapon to keep their own hands clean. Technically, Kabos died innocent of all wrongdoing under our laws.
“How is that fair? He orchestrated the death of King Antonio Robertson of Angels. He was complicit in the attacks on me, and on King Tybalt of the Court of Dreaming Cats. He gave the orders, and he pulled the strings, and had he been brought before this court, he would have been innocent, because we put too much focus on the wrong things. We look at the letter of the Law. Oberon was a pretty cool guy, according to all the stories I’ve heard. He made the Law so we’d stop killing each other. How is it any different to stand behind a throne and give orders that can’t be refused? How is that better?” I paused, trying to read the room. Most of the faces looking back at me were impassive, giving nothing away.
I wanted to turn and look at the Luidaeg. I didn’t dare. “Elf-shot was created to get around the Law, but it still kills. I’ve encountered elf-shot modified to carry a slow poison, for use against purebloods. When it’s used against changelings, it doesn’t even need that to be deadly. It’s a killing weapon. Changelings . . . we probably outnumber purebloods in today’s world, because the humans are so close, and the human world is so tempting. We’re part of Faerie, too. We’re part of this community, too. And continuing to use a weapon that’s a guaranteed violation of the Law in spirit, if not in the way it’s written, is wrong. It’s as wrong as what Verona and Kabos did. It’s as wrong as murder.