Once Broken Faith (October Daye #10)(111)

“I don’t see why,” said Sylvester. “October is a hero of the realm. It’s her job to become involved with awkward situations.”

“How many crowns did you redistribute, exactly, before your retirement?” asked Maida. Her question was mild, but Sylvester flushed red and turned his face away. “My husband is right. While October may be innocent of any wrongdoing, our vassals are starting to become concerned. One cannot simply leave a king-breaker unattended.”

“She’s not unattended,” protested Arden. “She’s a willing member of a noble household, and is here on a regular basis.”

“She has allegiances among the Undersea, she socializes with Firstborn, she’s set to unite the Divided Court with the Court of Cats, and our son thinks she hung the moon and stars,” said Aethlin. “Again, we know that she’s innocent, but to the outside eye, it certainly looks as if she’s gathering power for a political coup.”

I had been told to stay silent unless addressed directly, but I couldn’t help myself: I burst out laughing, causing all four of the people acting as my judge and jury to turn and stare at me.

Sylvester was the first to recover. He had spent the most time with me, after all. “Is something funny, October?”

“The idea of me even attempting a political coup, much less pulling it off,” I said. “I mean, come on, really? I don’t want power. I’ve given up power every time it’s been given to me. I’ve done my best to be responsible for as little as possible, because sometimes I don’t even trust my ability to take care of myself. I’m not a king-breaker. I’m not a scheming vizier waiting for my chance to seize the throne. I’m just trying to get by. That’s all. No big secret plan, no hidden agenda. Survival.”

“You’ve isolated yourself from your liege,” said Aethlin.

I glared at him. “I don’t care if you’re Quentin’s father or not, how Sylvester and I handle our personal conflicts is none of your damn business.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I would have thought my position as High King of the continent where you live might have been more important than the identity of my son.”

“Which just proves that you don’t know me very well,” I shot back. “Yes, Sylvester and I have had our problems, mostly relating to the part where he lied to me for my mother’s sake. I don’t like being lied to by anyone, least of all the people who are supposed to be looking out for me. We’re working things out. Don’t get in the middle.”

“You can see where it would look like you were trying to act independent of his control.”

“I never do anything heroic or stupid unless I’m under someone else’s control,” I said. “I’d be a lot happier if everyone would just leave me alone to eat pizza and watch television, but you people seem to constantly need saving, so here I am.”

Maida looked amused. Aethlin looked unconvinced.

“She had the opportunity to take the throne of the Mists, you know,” said Arden. Everyone turned to her. She looked coolly back. “Once the pretender Queen had been proven false, if October hadn’t forced me to come forward, she could have claimed the throne on the grounds that there was no legitimate heir, and she was the daughter of a Firstborn. No one would have contested her. Probably not even you.”

“That’s true enough,” allowed Aethlin. “It doesn’t change the rest.”

“It changes everything,” said Arden. “If she wanted power, she would have it. She went to Silences on my order. The King and Queen of Highmountain came here on your invitation. She may be a nexus for chaos and disorder, but she’s not a political genius. She can barely dress herself half the time.”

“You’re too kind,” I said dryly, suddenly very aware that I was still wearing a borrowed coat over a shift, and no shoes. “What do you need me to say? Because while I get that this is politically necessary, my fiancé and my squire just woke up, and they probably want me in shouting distance.”

“We need you to say that you have no intent to destabilize the political structure of the Westlands,” said Aethlin.

I shrugged. “Easy. I have no intent to destabilize the political structure of the Westlands. I may do it anyway, but if I do, it’ll be a mistake.”

“October—” began Sylvester.

“No, don’t,” I said. “Look, Your Highnesses, I’m not going to promise never to do something I’m already not planning to do, because I can’t see the future. But I’ve never gone out of my way to hurt anyone who didn’t deserve it. From what I can see, you don’t deserve it. I like you okay, and Quentin loves you. Honestly, I just want to go home, and maybe start planning my wedding.” It no longer seemed quite so abstract. It was something that needed to happen.

“Will you have the wedding in Toronto?” The question came from Maida.

It knocked the wind out of me. I stared at her, my mouth working soundlessly, like the fish I used to be. Finally, I managed to stammer, “W-what?”

“Will you and the King of Cats marry in Toronto, at our knowe?” Maida shrugged. “It would show there was no bad blood between us; that you had the support of the High Throne, and that the High Throne was not set to be a target of your accidental wrath; and it would be nice to host a wedding. It’s been too long.”