Shakespeare for Squirrels: A Novel (Fool #3)(33)

“Yes, Your Grace. Murdered last morning with this.” I held up the black crossbow bolt.

“He was a . . .” Titania seemed to be searching for a tribute to the fallen jester, searched the air before her as if it might be written in fireflies, then sighed and gave up. “And who did this dread deed?”

“That is what I am to find out.” I tried my thumb on the point of the bolt. “By Theseus’s order. So, Your Grace, if I may, did you give something to the Puck?”

“I did. A potion, a flower really. But I haven’t another. They grow it in a faraway land, and the Puck was the only one who could fetch it and return before it lost its power. Unless you would like to fetch another for your master, Theseus.”

Cobweb peeked out again from behind Bottom and gave me a stern look I took to mean, “If you give up the game now, you jabbering jizzwhistle, I will murder you in your sleep.” A look I had learned to recognize over my many years of dealing with the more delicate sex.

“Oh, I could shag a brace of queens and put a girdle around the Earth in thirty minutes, if I so desired, but Theseus seemed rather determined I find out who killed the Puck. However, if you are the killer, I’ll have my answer and can fetch your flower and perform whatever other Puckish duties you require.”

She did seem rather unmoved by the demise of a fellow she’d bonked only the day before—if the Puck was to be believed—but royals can be fickle fucks in affairs of the heart, or that has been my experience.

“Me? Of course not. Robin Goodfellow was in my service, I would not harm any in my charge, for I love them as my own children. I see to the change of tides and the warm winds that bring fertile fruit to the valleys. I command the moon and—”

“Right, right, right, you can roll road apples into gold, and I would be in slack-jawed awe at your power and splendor if you didn’t live up a fucking tree, so, if I may, where were you at dawn today, and was there anyone with you at the time?”

“I was here, in my nest, until late morning, watching the sweet creatures of the forest lick the morning dew from the leaves.”

“You weren’t here when I woke up,” brayed Bottom. He’d climbed to his feet and come to the fore of the nest. “I looked everywhere for you. Was still looking for you when I ran into this lot in the evening.”

Titania’s face hid a storm full of clouds as anger, and fear, and confusion passed over her.

“Tits are flushing, ma’am,” said I. Well they were! If she was going to run around in the altogether, she needed to get control over her bubbly bits or she’d never master proper royal subterfuge and guile. “Bit of a tell, love, the pinkening of the knockers, on someone as fair as thou.”

“Oberon!” she blurted out. “The shadow king killed the Puck, or he will know who did. That arrow is from his people.”

“Don’t you have the same people?”

“No, I am queen of the fairies, he, well, his is a darker lot.”

“Goblins,” said Bottom.

“How do you fucking know?” I said. “Yesterday you thought I was a bloody elf.”

“It has been a strange day’s night. I have seen things. Horrible things.”

Titania glared at the ass-man and he retreated to the back of the nest with Cobweb, Peaseblossom, and the brown boy. Evidently the queen’s infatuation with Bottom had come to an end.

“So, goblins?” I prompted Titania.

“Oberon’s goblins have such weapons,” she said. “You’ll find your answer at the Night Palace.”

Her knockers had gone snowy again, so I presumed she was not lying.

“And why, lady, do you not reside with the shadow king? He is your consort, I presume.”

“Oberon and I are quarreling. He wished to take my young charge as a squire and I will not have it. I was ejected from the palace and he has forbidden my fairies from dancing until I relent, which shall be forevermore, for I will not surrender my boy.”

“You split the kingdom over a slave?”

“The boy is not a slave. Come here, young master. Come, Raj.” She waved for the boy to come forward. He scurried to her side and hugged her hip as she tousled his hair. “His mother was a priestess of my order in India. And in the spiced Indian air, often she gossiped by my side. She would sit with me on Neptune’s yellow sands and we would laugh to see the sails conceive and grow big bellied with the wanton wind; even as my lady did grow big bellied with my squire. But being mortal, she did die of the boy, and for her sake do I rear him up, and for her sake I will not part with him. She was my friend.”

“Well, children are a fucking blessing, aren’t they?” said I. “Especially if you get them when they’re grown and not so damp and leaky all the time. True joy. So, the potion you had the Puck fetch, what was it for?”

She looked to the side, suddenly coy. “A little love potion. You drop the liquor from a small purple flower into the intended’s eyes, and upon awaking, they fall in love with the first creature they lay eyes on, be it man, woman, or beast.”

“And who did he intend to use this potion upon?”

“I know not. Perhaps, as he is your master, you should ask him. Perhaps if you find who wanted to stop the Puck from delivering it, you will find who it was for. Ask Oberon.”