“We are prepared to move, Majesty,” Whitechurch said. He already sounded tired of indulging the queen.
“Oh, I’m sure you are. And you will be moving. Shortly.” She smiled, showing a bit too many sharp teeth for my liking, and played with the skirt around her legs. “My tall one will be quite safe. As for the rest of you, who can tell?”
I didn’t like the way she’d said that. The wooden door had vanished, leaving a wall of solid earth. Whitechurch’s words became clipped.
“Enough of this. When do we leave?”
“You leave now.” Mab reclined onto a chaise of moss, wriggling her bare toes. “What a shame, tall girl, that your friend turned so terribly shadowlike. Such a disappointment.”
It became difficult to breathe.
“How do you know about Rook?” I murmured, gooseflesh creeping up my arms. Mab giggled, as though I’d asked a silly thing.
“Because I ordered it, of course. Where’s my little doctor?” She peered around the room, one hand shading her eyes for dramatic effect. Someone moved in the corner, and then Fenswick appeared, holding his four hands behind his back in an apologetic fashion. “Your human was healing, apparently. Someone had to fix that. What would dear R’hlem do without his Shadow and Fog?”
I couldn’t have understood what she’d said. But the way Fenswick averted his eyes, his ears drooping, was undeniable.
Rook had been healing, and Fenswick had poisoned him.
“Madame, are you saying you had knowledge of the Ancients’ hold on that boy?” Whitechurch reached for his stave.
Mab opened her mouth and screamed. Her scream pierced my brain and rattled my vision, a siren song from hell. My ears felt as if they might explode.
Something twined about my arms and pulled them to my sides. Vines sprouted from the earth and coiled down from the ceiling. A loop of vine cinched around my waist, dragging me to my knees. Blackwood, Dee, and Magnus shouted as the same happened to them. Soldiers, the Goodfellow among them, burst from out of the very walls, going from clay to flesh in an instant, and forced Whitechurch to his knees. They held his arms and pulled his head back to look the faerie queen in the eye.
“You treacherous creature,” Whitechurch spit. He struggled against the guards. “Why?”
“Because you are too greedy, Imperator.” Her girlish tittering died. “You never thank me for the bodies of my lovely subjects lost fighting your stupid wars. R’hlem understands. He knows the Fae are not his enemies. So the bloody king has offered a marvelous bargain,” Mab cooed, flicking her fingers at Whitechurch’s eye. He jerked in pain. “He burns your kingdom and gives my people the north again.” She sighed. “And we receive ten thousand Englishmen as slaves. Isn’t it glorious?”
I began to set fire to the vines. One of the knights took a blade of bone and held it to Blackwood’s throat. Mab lifted an eyebrow.
“Would you care to use your power now?” she asked me sweetly. Blackwood winced as the knife cut him.
My fire disappeared at once.
“Howel, do what you must,” Blackwood snapped. Mab patted his cheek.
“Isn’t your sister on the road to your estate, my little lordling? Would you care to test me?”
“You demon.” Magnus pulled against his bonds.
Mab huffed and turned back to Whitechurch. She leaned closer, a malevolent light in her eyes. “You know, there’s a toll to be paid for using my roads.”
Whitechurch didn’t flinch as Mab trotted over to one of her soldiers and drew a long, savage-looking bone sword from his scabbard. She grinned, licking her teeth. “I think your head will be payment enough,” she said, pointing to Whitechurch with the tip. Then, to me, “Frankly, I’d take yours, but he wants you without a hair out of place. Can’t imagine why.”
The perfect image of William Howel I had carried in my heart was gone forever. Of all the reasons to hate R’hlem, that might have been the greatest.
“And you.” She sniffed at Blackwood, Dee, and Magnus. “Well, I’ll make up my mind later.”
“Sorcerers.” Whitechurch looked at us. He no longer struggled against his captors. There was no fear in him. He refused to give her that. “Her Majesty commended you.”
While the boys screamed, I could only stay silent in horror as Mab sliced off Whitechurch’s head in one clean sweep.
“I think he’ll look quite nice on a mantel,” Mab said conversationally, shaking Whitechurch’s head by his hair. Drops of blood rained onto the earthen floor. “Though I’m not sure what a mantel is. Hmmph.” Mab chucked the head across the ground, then gestured to her soldiers. “Take their weapons.”
They took our swords and daggers, snatched the whip and the flute off the boys. They ripped the bone whistle from my neck and grabbed my dagger as well, piling them into a corner along with our staves. I wanted to cry out for Porridge, as I felt strangely sure my stave was crying out for me.
I stared at Whitechurch’s crumpled form. I wouldn’t allow myself to shrink away from the image. I memorized the slumped angle of his body, the blood-speckled collar of his shirt.
Her Majesty commended you. What had the queen said the night I became a sorcerer? I grant my commendation, that you will take up arms in my defense, that you will live and die for my country and my person, and that your magic shall find its greatest purpose in the service of others. Whitechurch had ordered us to remember.
Feeling surged through me. We were not going to die in this place.
Mab went to Blackwood. “Lord of Sorrow-Fell.” She said it with mockery. “I don’t care if it’s my sister’s property. Humans settling Faerie lands? Disgusting.” She spit in his face. Blackwood didn’t move a muscle.
“I doubt Your Majesty has read much of Dante. According to him, the lowest level of hell is reserved for traitors,” he murmured.
Mab snorted with laughter, then frowned at Dee. “Who are you? Oh, wait.” She slapped his face. “I don’t care.”
Finally, she moved to Magnus, whose eyes glinted with challenge. Mab purred, sliding her hands through his hair.
“Mmm, such a handsome young man. The epitome of beauty.” She pressed herself against him. With the vines holding his body, Magnus was helpless. “I was going to kill all three of you boys, but I think I’ll keep you as my pet. You really will look so nice chained to my wall. You’ll be such fun to play with.” She traced the tip of one finger along Magnus’s jaw. “As long as your youth and beauty last, of course. Then you’ll be scrumptious food for my little goblins.” Leaning forward, she licked his cheek. “What do you say to that?”
“Madame.” Magnus gave a breathtaking smile and instructed her to do something with herself that was physically impossible. The faerie went rigid. “Would you take that as an answer?”
“Maybe I’ll feed you to my goblins now,” she growled.
“Good, because I’m rather bored by the company.”
My mind raced. If I freed myself, I’d be too late to keep Mab from killing the boys. How the devil was I to manage this?
Something fluttered into my lap. It was a handkerchief, with HH embroidered at the corner in dark blue thread. It looked exactly like my old handkerchief.
Because it was mine. I peered up at the soldier standing watch over me, a short creature with a wooden helmet and a visor of bone. Impossible to see who it was.
The vines at my wrists gave, and the one about my waist went slack. The soldier was cutting me free with…yes, an iron ax. No one noticed. All eyes were upon Magnus and the queen.
Maria’s voice whispered in my ear, “When I signal, fire.”
No music had ever sounded as sweet as her voice in that moment.
Across the room, Fenswick put one clawed finger to his lips: silence.
“Let’s begin by cutting something off,” Mab mused, laying the edge of her sword on Magnus’s arm. “You won’t need your hands. Will you?”
The last vines fell. I would have only one chance at this. Leering, Mab raised her sword.
Maria threw her ax, splitting open the head of the soldier who held the knife on Blackwood. Mab squealed, and while she was distracted, I stood.