Summer's Crossing (The Iron Fey 3.5)

And I knew. Leanansidhe’s prized possession, and Titania’s newest plaything, wasn’t the instrument in the girl’s tiny, skillful fingers.

It was the girl herself. This was our “violin.”

Well, things just got a lot more complicated.

The song came to an end, and the girl’s eyes opened, dark and serious and a tad bemused, as if she wasn’t quite sure if this was a dream or not. The gentry tittered, clapping their hands and breathing small sighs of admiration, while Queen Titania gave a small, pleased smile.

“That was beautiful, Vi,” she purred, combing the girl’s hair with her fingers. The small human blinked and gazed up at the faery queen with solemn eyes.

“The ending was flat,” she said regretfully. Her voice was reedy and breathless, as if the violin had taken all the volume from her. “And it was rushed in the beginning.” She sniffed and bit her bottom lip. “I’m sorry, I wanted to play it better.”

“Oh, my dear, it was perfect.” Titania smoothed the hair back from the girl’s face. “Wasn’t it?” she added, looking fiercely at the nobles, who tittered and nodded and made appropriate noises of agreement. Beside me, Ash muttered something inaudible and shot me a sideways glance.

“A child,” he muttered. “Leanansidhe’s ‘toy’ is a child. How are we going to get her out, Goodfellow?”

“I’m thinking.”

“Think faster.”

“Now,” the queen continued, tugging at the girl’s dress, straightening it, “would you like something to eat, my darling? Then, if you want, you can play for us again after you’ve eaten.”

Vi sniffled. “Can I have cake?”

“Of course, my dear.” The queen smiled indulgently. “Would you like that?”

The girl nodded eagerly. Titania bent down and kissed her cheek. “Then I will have Cook bring you the sweetest cakes she can find.”

The child beamed. Titania snapped her fingers, and a brownie appeared at her arm. “You heard her,” she told it. “Tell Cook we want her best and sweetest cakes, as quickly as possible.”

“The little strawberry ones,” Vi added, smiling up at the queen. Titania nodded at the brownie, who bowed and scampered off, fleeing into the hedge. The queen chuckled and patted the girl’s head like she would a favorite small dog.

“Isn’t she darling?” she mused, and the nobles were quick to agree. “Such talent, and at such a young age. I don’t know how Leanansidhe could stand to give her up.”

She laughed, and the gentry laughed with her. The girl sat there with her hands in her lap, gazing vacantly at the faeries surrounding her. As the chuckles died down, the queen finally spotted us at the edge of the clearing, and her blue eyes lit up with delight.

“Oh, but my dears, we are being very rude.” The queen sat up, raising a slender hand to us. “We have esteemed visitors, returned from yet another impossible quest. Sir Fagan, Sir Torin, please step forward.”

I saw Ash draw in a quiet breath, steeling himself, and bit down my anticipation. “Here we go,” I whispered, throwing out my chest. “Just follow my lead.”

Chin up, chest puffed out, I raised my head and swaggered toward the waiting queen.

Titania laced her fingers together and watched us approach, a small smile on her perfect lips. But her gaze wasn’t fastened on me, but the “Summer knight” at my side. Ash, much to his credit, was playing his part, keeping his head up and a faint, proud smile on his face, his gaze only for the queen. Good, I thought as we reached the foot of the throne and bowed. Keep looking at ice-boy. Pay no attention to the buffoon next to him. Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain.

“Sir Fagan.” Titania spared me a cursory glance. “Sir Torin.” She smiled widely at Ash. “Welcome back. I apologize for my husband—he is away from court at the moment and I am not sure when he will return.”

“We are sorry to have missed Lord Oberon,” Ash said, his voice confident and clear, and slightly pompous. He took the queen’s outstretched hand and brought it to his lips. “But to be in your presence, my lady—that is worth all the blessings of our good king.”

I resisted the urge to stare at him, biting down a grin. Well, look at you, ice-boy. Playing the part, after all. I forgot you know how to do this, too, if pushed hard enough.

“Oh, Sir Torin.” Titania blushed, somehow managing to look embarrassed and self-conscious even as she preened. “You are such a flatterer. And we are so glad that you have returned. You must have stories to tell, my dear Sirs. The court is most anxious to hear your newest adventures.” She clasped her hands together. “I simply insist you join us in the Grand Dining Hall tonight. Let us toast your noble quests, recognize your great deeds and you can hear my newest acquisition play for you.” She stroked the girl’s hair again, but Ash didn’t even glance at the human.

“That would please us greatly, your majesty.”

“It is decided, then.” Titania nodded regally, dismissing us. “We will meet again tonight. I am most anxious to hear what you have been up to in the time you’ve been gone.”

We bowed, and Ash reached down a second time and brought the back of the queen’s hand to his lips. “Until tonight, my lady,” he murmured, and we left the queen’s court, feeling her eyes on us until we ducked back into the tunnel.

I held in my laughter until we were well away from the throne room, before turning on Ash with a gleeful cackle. “What was that, ice-boy? Since when did you get to be such a charmer? I didn’t think you had it in you.”

His face flamed. “I did what I had to do,” he said, crossing his arms and looking away. “We got close to the queen and saw what Leanansidhe sent us for. Now the question is, how do we get her away from Titania? How do we get her out of the Summer Court?”

“Worry not, ice-boy. I already have a plan.” I flashed him my best impish smile, rubbing my hands together. “One brilliant Goodfellow prank, coming right up.”

The Grand Dining Hall wasn’t really a hall, more of a marble courtyard underneath the stars, surrounded on all sides by a giant hedge maze. In the very center, surrounded by hedgy unicorns and lions, the Summer Queen held her most extravagant parties at a long white and gold table, very reminiscent of a certain Mad Hatter’s tea party. To be invited to one of these affairs, you had to be a personal favorite of the queen, or the next one on her figurative chopping block. Needless to say, Oberon never attended.

The labyrinth was easy for “Sir Torin” and I to navigate, despite a couple statues that tried pointing us in the wrong direction, and all too soon we reached the table in the center of the maze. It was surrounded by Seelie gentry in their fanciest clothes, gowns of feathers and rose petals, cloaks of baby’s breath and spiderwebs. And at the head of the table, her golden hair braided with flowers and sparkling moonstones, the Summer Queen smiled and waved us over.

Vi, the mortal child, sat in a chair on the queen’s right, solemnly plowing her way through an impressive fountain of pink and blue cake. Her violin sat on a pillow, held by a waiting satyr behind the girl’s chair. She didn’t look up as we approached, but the queen gave us a welcoming smile.

“Now,” Titania purred after introductions were made and the rest of the gentry were settled, “let us hear of your latest adventures, knights. Sir Torin, would you like to regale the court with your mighty quests and deeds?”

Beside me, Torin lowered his head. “Ah, my lady, nothing would make me happier.” He nodded to me with a small frown. “However, I believe Sir Fagan has won the right to sing of our adventures this evening. We made a bet on who would have the honor, and I lost. If it pleases you, I will leave the storytelling to him.”

Titania pouted a bit then brightened. “Very well, then, Sir Torin. I insist you keep me company for the evening. It is the least you can do.” She gestured to the empty spot on her left. “Do sit, Sir Torin. Relax for a while. Let my servants attend you for a change.”

“My lady, it is not proper—”

“I will decide what is proper in my court or not, Sir.” Titania’s voice was like a velvet coating over steel. “As you can see, my husband is not here, so I have the need to be protected from the riffraff at court. What better protection than having a famed knight errant at my side?” She gestured to the seat, more firmly this time. “Sit, Sir Torin. That is an order from your queen.”

Sir Torin sat. Vi stared at him over the table, frosting covering her mouth, but Titania didn’t even glance at the child. Her attention seemed to have completely shifted to the knight sitting at her elbow. Torin met the queen’s gaze and gave a hesitant, furtive smile.

“Well, Sir Fagan,” Titania said without looking at me, “it seems we are to listen to you sing of your adventures tonight. I do hope it will prove entertaining.”

Oh, you have no idea. “Certainly, my queen.” I grinned. Spinning away from the happy couple, I marched to the center of the courtyard, pulling out a lute as I did. Sir Fagan—the real Sir Fagan, that is—could do a fair job of strumming a tune, but tonight would be his most memorable performance yet.

My fingers flew over the lute strings, and I sang about two knights, sent by their king to retrieve the Treasure of the Moonbeast, only neither of them knew what it was. After weeks of searching and getting no answers, it was decided that the Treasure of the Moonbeast must be on the moon itself, and they needed the great pearl at the bottom of the Mermaid Queen’s ocean, rumored to be able to draw the moon down from the sky if taken from water. Both knights nearly drowned, fighting off waves of sirens and mermen as they fled back to dry land, but they did manage to steal the pearl. However, when they held it up to see if it would really capture the moon as the legends stated, the pearl slipped from their fingers, rolled off a cliff and fell back into the ocean from whence it came.

The Summer gentry roared with that tale, laughing and clapping, calling for more. I glanced at the head of the table and saw Torin and the queen, deep in conversation, paying little attention to me. Titania was leaning close to the knight, speaking in whispers, and Torin was nodding solemnly. Perfect.

“This next song,” I announced, as my audience fell silent, “is a tale about lost love, and how we must never take for granted what we have right now.”

This time, the song was soft and slow, full of yearning, about a knight who loved a noblewoman but feared expressing his love because of their difference in rank. It was a sad tune, and I made it as heart-wrenching as I could, weaving a bit of glamour into the notes for a bigger impact. I noticed two gentry who listened, enraptured, then stood and wandered away into the maze together.

I kept my gaze on Torin and the queen as I sang. They didn’t look up, but Titania’s head moved closer and closer to the knight, until only a few inches separated them. Sir Torin didn’t shy away once, capturing her hand as it reached up to his face, pressing it to his lips.