A Red-Rose Chain

“You look nervous, October.” The former Queen leaned forward to smile at me around the King of Silences, her eyes narrowing in a way that was anything but friendly. “Is there something you had wanted to say to the King, perhaps? It’s never good to keep secrets from royalty. They always find out, in the end.”


“Funny, that’s almost exactly what High King Sollys said when we presented Queen Windermere before him,” I said mildly. “He was really surprised to learn that King Gilad had had children before he died, and that we had plenty of proof those children existed. I guess he figured someone should have told him.”

The former Queen’s eyes narrowed further. “I am a guest in these halls.”

“Yes, and I’m a diplomat—which I’m sure you can agree is pretty ridiculous, since I’m about as diplomatic as a kick to the face, so hey. We’re all learning how to do new things.” I looked to King Rhys. “Of course I’m nervous, Your Majesty. This is a Kingdom of alchemists, and I’ve left my personal alchemist in our rooms to avoid offending you, after the little dustup we had earlier today. I didn’t want him getting arrested again. I’m sure you understand.”

“I do, indeed,” said Rhys. “It seems you are lacking in certain defenses that one might have expected you to bring to such a formal and important meal.”

“If you mean I can’t counter anything you decide to put into my food, you’re right.” I was tired. I was angry. I was done candy-coating things for this man, who seemed more amused by my attempts to be diplomatic than anything else. “I’m starving, and I’m afraid to eat.”

“Well, we can’t have that,” he said. “It speaks poorly to my hospitality, and I’ll not have your mistress, however illegitimate her claims to my lady’s throne, say that we treated you poorly. May I assume your alchemist has provided you with a counter to anything I might have put in your meal?”

“You can assume,” I said cagily.

“Excellent. In that case please, feel free to use it however you like. Coat your cutlery in whatever powder or potion you have with you, and I will pledge, on my honor, not to slip anything into your meal that would be too powerful for a little country alchemist to overcome. I want to you to come around to my way of thinking fairly, Sir Daye, and not through the application of magics.”

I blinked at him. I’d been expecting a lot of reactions to my sudden bluntness, but “okay, I promise not to drug you” hadn’t been on the list. “I . . . see,” I said finally.

Rhys looked at me with something that might have been pity. “You don’t. You’re willfully blind, because you do not like my lady, and because you are accustomed to a Kingdom where things are done differently. You judge me by the standards of something I have never been. I’m sure you think me a despot, an uncaring tyrant who refuses to let his people have a voice of their own. You aren’t wrong. But you should also see me as a caring patriarch, someone who understands that he is in a delicate position. The old rulers, the ones who held this Kingdom before they were legitimately overthrown in a just war, they ruled carelessly. Few pureblood children were born, because they made no effort to keep the bloodlines clean. They allowed cavorting between fae of different races, ignoring what this would mean for the powers and stability of the children born to such unions. And changelings! They allowed their mortal-born children to aspire to places far beyond their station—no offense meant, of course, Sir Daye. Your case is somewhat different from the norm.”

“Yeah, I guess Mom being Firstborn buys me a little bit of leniency,” I said.