Once Broken Faith (October Daye #10)(9)
Walther nodded, and moved to Madden’s bedside, bending to press the lip of his wine snifter against the other man’s lips. He placed his free hand under Madden’s head, bringing it a few inches up from the pillow, so that gravity would be working on his side. I wanted to ask how he could be sure that Madden wouldn’t choke, but I held my tongue. Walther had already managed to wake me, May, and his entire sleeping family. He knew what he was doing.
After a moment, he pulled the snifter away and stepped back, letting Madden’s head return to the pillow. I risked a glance at Arden. She had folded her hands and pressed them beneath her chin, eyes wide and solemn as a child’s as she watched.
Seconds ticked by, and everything was silence and the growing scent of roses. I shivered. Elf-shot had been created by Eira Rosynhwyr, the Firstborn of the Daoine Sidhe, and the countercharm was made using roses that matched the precise smell of her magic. Eira and I have . . . calling it “a history” seems too simple, but I don’t know how else to describe a relationship defined by her lying to me and me being so eager for approval that I’d never seen the signs. She’s dangerous. She’s terrifying. She’s asleep, thanks to her own elf-shot, which once would have meant she was out of the way for a hundred years. Now, with Walther’s cure in play, there’s no telling when she’ll wake up. So no, I do not care for the scent of roses.
Madden sighed. It would have been unremarkable, but he’d been elf-shot, and people sleeping under an enchantment don’t sigh. Arden clasped her hands tighter. He yawned. And then, like it was the most ordinary thing in the world, he opened his eyes.
“That’s not the sky,” he said, sounding puzzled. “I was outside a second ago. Why isn’t that the sky?” He sat up, frowning at Walther. His eyes flashed wolfish gold. “Do I know you?”
“Madden!” Arden dropped her hands and flung herself at him, slinging her arms around his neck.
Madden caught her easily, taking his attention from Walther in order to frown at his friend and liege as she buried her face against his shoulder. “Ardy? What’s wrong? Why do I feel like I missed something?”
“That’s an excellent question,” said a semi-familiar voice. My heart sank.
It kept sinking as I turned to see High King Aethlin Sollys standing in the doorway. He was wearing a charcoal-gray tailored suit that would have looked perfectly appropriate on a San Francisco street corner. His tie was wine-red and snowy white: the colors of the Westlands. He wasn’t wearing a human disguise, allowing the points of his ears and the burnished bronze color of his hair to show. His eyes were sunrise red, and narrowed as he watched Arden and Madden’s embrace.
“Why,” he said, echoing Madden’s words, “do I feel like I’ve missed something?”
THREE
ARDEN SCRAMBLED TO EXTRICATE herself from Madden’s embrace, wiping the tears from her cheeks with quick, almost shamed swipes of her hand. She positioned herself so that her body blocked Walther and Madden from the High King. It was a noble gesture. It was also a futile one—she was a slender girl, and Madden alone could have made two of her; there was no way she could shield them from Aethlin’s regard—but the fact that she was willing to try made me feel a little better about the situation. A little. Not nearly enough, especially since she wasn’t shielding me.
“Your herald said we should expect you next week, Your Highness,” said Arden. Her voice was thick with tears and worry. “I apologize that I was not prepared for your arrival.”
“Really? It looks to me as though you were taking advantage of every moment you believed you had before I got here,” said High King Sollys. He raised an eyebrow, looking briefly so much like his son that it hurt. This man, tall and regal and terrifying, was Quentin’s future. This was his birthright. No matter how much I enjoyed having him with me, I was only ever going to be a way station on his path to the throne.
If that was dismaying for me as his knight, how did it feel for Dean as his boyfriend? Had they even talked about it? Dating is hard for the children of the nobility. Maybe that’s why they have formal courtships. Putting all those layers of formality and obligation in the way of casual dating made things easier on the heart.
Arden bit her lip, and didn’t move. “Please. I didn’t mean to defy you. I just . . .”
“Madden was elf-shot by an agent of Silences as part of the declaration of war against the Mists,” I said. High King Sollys looked at me. I forced myself to remain casually seated on the bed, resting the bulk of my weight on my hands. Every etiquette lesson I’d ever been given was screaming for me to stand, but that was exactly why I couldn’t do it. If I kept things informal, maybe he’d do the same. “Everyone else who was elf-shot during the failed attempt at a coup has been woken up. He would’ve been, too, if we hadn’t been so quick about telling you what was going on. It was fair.”
“Sir Daye,” said High King Sollys. “Of course you’re involved. I’m not sure whether you know this, but ‘fair’ and royal decrees are rarely acquainted with one another.”
“Maybe they should be,” I said. “He’s awake now. What are you going to do, ram another arrow into his arm to punish Arden for disobeying you? Maybe it’s just me, but that seems kind of extreme, especially since the only thing he ever did wrong was stand by the woman who rightfully inherited the throne in the Mists, instead of supporting the woman who should never have been confirmed as our Queen.”