So, instead, what if I turn Cardan over to Madoc?
He would put Oak on the throne and then rule as a tyrannical and brutal regent. He would make war on the Courts that resisted swearing to the throne. He would raise Oak in enough bloodshed that he would turn into someone like Madoc, or perhaps someone more secretly cruel, like Dain. But he would be better than Balekin. And he would make a fair bargain with me and with the Court of Shadows, if only for my sake. And I—what would I do?
I could go with Vivi, I suppose.
Or I could bargain to be a knight. I could stay and help protect Oak, help insulate him from Madoc’s influence. Of course, I would have little power to do that.
What would happen if I cut Madoc out of the picture? That would mean no gold for the Court of Shadows, no bargains with anyone. It would mean getting the crown somehow and putting it on Oak’s head. And then what? Madoc would still become regent. I couldn’t stop him. Oak would still listen to him. Oak would still become his puppet, still be in danger.
Unless—unless somehow Oak could be crowned and spirited away from Faerie. Be the High King in exile. Once Oak was grown and ready, he could return, aided by the power of the Greenbriar crown. Madoc might still be able to assert some authority over Faerie until Oak got back, but he wouldn’t be able to make Oak as bloodthirsty, as inclined toward war. He wouldn’t have the absolute authority that he’d have as a regent with the High King beside him. And since Oak would have been reared in the human world, when he came back to Faerie, hopefully he’d be at least somewhat sympathetic to the place where he was raised and the people he met there.
Ten years. If we could keep Oak out of Faerie for ten years, he could grow into the person he’s going to be.
Of course, by then, he might have to fight to get his throne back. Someone—probably Madoc, possibly Balekin, maybe even one of the other minor kings or queens—could squat there like a spider, consolidating power.
I squint at the black water. If only there were a way to keep the throne unoccupied for long enough that Oak becomes his own person, without Madoc making war, without any regent at all.
I stand up, having made my decision. For good or ill, I know what I am going to do. I have my plan. Madoc would not approve of this strategy. It’s not the kind he likes, where there are multiple ways to win. It’s the kind where there’s only one way, and it’s kind of a long shot.
As I stand, I catch my own reflection in the water. I look again and realize that it can’t be me. The Lake of Masks never shows you your own face. I creep closer. The full moon is bright in the sky, bright enough to show me my mother looking back at me. She’s younger than I remember her. And she’s laughing, calling over someone I cannot see.
Through time, she points at me. When she speaks, I can read her lips. Look! A human girl. She appears delighted.
Then Madoc’s reflection joins hers, his hand going around her waist. He looks no younger then, but there is an openness in his face that I have never seen. He waves to me.
I am a stranger to them.
Run! I want to shout. But, of course, that’s the one thing I don’t need to tell her to do.
The Bomb looks up when I enter. She’s sitting at the wooden table, measuring out a grayish powder. Beside her are several spun glass globes, corked shut. Her magnificent white hair is tied up with what looks like a piece of dirty string. A smear of grime streaks over her nose.
“The rest of them are in the back,” she says. “With the princeling, getting some sleep.”
I sit down at the table with a sigh. I’d been tensed up to explain myself, and now all that energy has nowhere to go. “Is there anything around to eat?”
She gives me a quick grin as she fills another globe and sets it gingerly in a basket by her feet. “The Ghost picked up some black bread and butter. We ate the sausages, and the wine’s gone, but there might still be some cheese.”
I rummage through the cupboard, take out the food, and then eat it mechanically. I pour myself a cup of bracing and bitter fennel tea. It makes me feel a little steadier. I watch her make explosives for a while. As she works, she whistles a little, off-key. It’s odd to hear; most of the Folk are musically gifted, but I like her tune better for being imperfect. It seems happier, easier, less haunting.
“Where will you go when all this is done?” I ask her.
She glances over at me, puzzled. “What makes you think I’m going anywhere?”
I frown at my nearly empty cup of tea. “Because Dain’s gone. I mean, isn’t that what the Ghost and the Roach are going to do? Aren’t you going with them?”
The Bomb shrugs her narrow shoulders and points a bare toe at the basket of globes. “See all these?”
I nod.
“They don’t travel well,” she says. “I’m going to stay here, with you. You’ve got a plan, right?”
I am too flummoxed to know what to say. I open my mouth and begin to stammer. She laughs. “Cardan said that you did. That if you were just making a trade, you would have done it already. And if you were going to betray us, you’d have done that by now, too.”
“But, um,” I say, and then lose my train of thought. Something about how he wasn’t supposed to be paying that much attention. “What do the others think?”
She goes back to filling globes. “They didn’t say, but none of us likes Balekin. If you’ve got a plan, well, good for you. But if you want us on your side, maybe you could be a little less cagey about it.”
I take a deep breath and decide that if I am really going to do this, I could use some help. “What do you think about stealing a crown? Right in front of the kings and queens of Faerie?”
Her grin curls up at the corners. “Just tell me what I get to blow up.”
Twenty minutes later, I light the stub of a candle and make my way to the room with the cots. As the Bomb said, Cardan is stretched out on one, looking sickeningly handsome. He’s washed his face and taken off his jacket, which he has folded up under his head for a pillow. I poke him in the arm, and he comes awake instantly, raising his hand as though to ward me off.
“Shhhh,” I whisper. “Don’t wake the others. I need to talk to you.”
“Go away. You told me you wouldn’t kill me if I answered your questions, and I did.” He doesn’t sound like the boy who kissed me, sick with desire, just hours ago. He sounds sleepy, arrogant, and annoyed.
“I am going to offer you something better than your life,” I say. “Now, come on.”
He stands, shouldering on his jacket, and then follows me into Dain’s office. Once we’re there, he leans against the doorjamb. His eyes are heavy-lidded, his hair messy from the bed. Just looking at him makes me feel hot with shame. “You sure you brought me here just to talk?”