Once Broken Faith (October Daye #10)(71)
Tybalt laughed.
The door opened and the second guard emerged, pulling the door wider in the process. “Her Majesty, High Queen Maida of the Westlands, welcomes you.”
“Excellent,” I said. I walked forward, Tybalt following, and stepped into the largest receiving room I’d ever seen in anything short of a knowe’s main hall. If the Luidaeg’s suite was bigger than my old apartment, this one was bigger than my entire house. The décor matched the redwood-and-stained-glass theme of the rest of the estate. Unlike the Luidaeg’s suite, the walls were solid, preventing the morning light from waking the occupants. The ceiling continued upward into a belled dome; while it was stained glass, it was all shades of dark blue, spangled with colored moons and constellations, like a grander version of the hallway.
“Whoa,” I said.
“That’s what I said,” said Maida, rising from the chaise longue where she’d been eating her breakfast. She was wearing a long silver dressing gown that almost matched her hair, and her brief smile faded as she moved toward me. “What news?”
“First, a question, since I was sort of busy. Did Arden tell you about Duchess Dianda Lorden?”
Maida nodded. “The Duchess Lorden was elf-shot in her quarters yesterday, after the conclave had concluded. We were notified both due to the attack, and due to the request that we open the walls long enough to allow a healer to come inside.”
“Good. Just checking. I was able to enter her dreams, with the assistance of Karen Brown and the Luidaeg, and speak with Dianda—who is not happy, by the way. Like, I recommend whoever wakes her be wearing protective clothing, because she’s likely to wake up swinging.”
“We can’t wake her,” said Maida. Her face smoothed into neutrality, and for the first time, I felt like I was having a private audience with the High Queen. “We must be seen to show no favor for those who are our allies, and while Saltmist is not allied with the Westlands, it has worked in alliance with the Mists. We regret what has happened to the Duchess Lorden, but—”
“But because whoever shot her could stand up and use this to prove it doesn’t matter what the conclave decides, since anyone who’s an ally of the Mists will always have access to the cure, she needs to stay asleep for now,” I said. “I got that part. What I’m getting at is that we know who shot her. Dianda saw them. It was Duke Michel of Starfall.”
“Do you have proof?”
“I do,” I said. “It’s called ‘you’re the High Queen, and your husband is the High King, and either of you can command Duke Michel to give you three drops of blood to verify a claim against him.’ Which, by the way, I am happy to make, and Patrick Lorden will be happy to support.”
“Her husband? Won’t that seem a bit, well, biased?”
“Blood has no bias. Tell Duke Michel you need to clear the charges before the conclave can continue, and he doesn’t get to say that it’s unfair, because you’re in charge of the continent.” I shook my head. “If we don’t do this, we run the risk of it continuing to happen.”
“But why? Duchess Lorden was in favor of sharing the cure, as was Duke Michel.”
I paused. “That’s what he said. People can lie. Blood can’t lie, but people can. Maybe he doesn’t want the cure getting out at all, and so he did this, because he wins either way. If we wake her, he can call the conclave a sham. I’m assuming if there were a mass exodus of offended nobles, the cure would be suppressed?”
Maida nodded slowly. “For at least another year, while it was discussed behind closed doors. We don’t need the support of the people to release it, but it would go easier if we had it. People get funny ideas about democracy these days.”
“So there’s a guaranteed delay. And if we don’t wake her, now Michel knows he can erode the vote by shooting people. Faerie isn’t a democracy, but most of us are used to having our opinions matter at least a little, and I’m betting that goes double for kings and queens.”
“As it happens, we’re very fond of our opinions being heard,” said Tybalt mildly. “We tend to become incensed when ignored.”
Maida sighed. “What would you have us do?”
I took a breath. “I would have you ride Duke Michel’s blood and confirm what I’ve told you. Confirm he did it to sway the conclave. And then wake Dianda up, not because she’s an ally of the Mists, but because Michel was trying to use the rules against you, and he doesn’t get to do that. She wouldn’t have been elf-shot if he wasn’t trying to be a manipulative dick. Make it clear that the High Crown is not up for manipulation.”
“I could easily point out that you are now trying to manipulate the High Crown,” said Maida, lips twitching with amusement.
“Yeah, but I’m upfront about it.” I turned toward the half-open door on the other side of the room, raising my voice a bit as I called, “Isn’t that right, Your Highness?”
The door swung open. Aethlin stepped out. “How did you know?”
“I live with your son. He likes to lurk. He’s a lurky, lurky boy. He had to get that from somewhere, and he actually didn’t get it from me.” I shrugged. “I figured there was no way you were sleeping when people were getting murdered—no progress on that front, by the way, since Duke Michel decided to complicate my life by shooting my friend—and there’s nowhere else in the knowe you have particular reason to be, which meant you were somewhere in this room, listening to us. I made an educated guess.”