I shook my head and followed, a lady of science and reason strolling into an impossible fairy ring.
The sounds of the bustling city all around us melted away. The grove was cool and shady, with a faint hint of vanilla and citrus in the air. Jackaby acknowledged me with a nod. He stood in the middle of the clearing, the light from the noonday sun finding its way through the circle of branches above us to bathe him in a column of golden light. All around him little flecks of pure white danced and spun through the sunbeams.
Virgule crossed the grass to stand beside another willowy figure. She wore robes of deep blue in contrast to Virgule’s greens. Her hair was honey blond and her features were even more graceful than her counterpart’s, save for a pearl white scar running from one high cheekbone down to the corner of her lips. She stood with a military bearing and an emotionless expression. “Seer,” she said. “It has been many years.”
“Thank you for granting us an audience,” said Jackaby. “Miss Rook, allow me to introduce General Serif and Captain Virgule, emissaries to Lord Arawn.”
“Charmed,” I said.
“Not noticeably,” said Virgule. “Is it a passive enchantment?”
Serif cleared her throat. “Whether we will escort you anywhere remains to be decided,” she said. “Lord Arawn does not waste his time lightly on the tribulations of humans.”
“He will have time for this,” said Jackaby. “It concerns the Dire Council.”
“The Dire Council has long been disbanded,” she told him. “You’re chasing shadows.”
“One of those shadows is currently locked in my root cellar,” Jackaby replied. “She killed a lot of innocent people before we put her there, and she wasn’t working alone. Her father remains at large, and he has recently claimed dominion over the earth and Annwyn, which concerns both our homelands.”
All around him, the little flecks of light in the sunbeams had begun to circle, orbiting the detective, gradually moving faster and faster.
“The Dire King,” Virgule whispered timorously.
Serif shot him a cold glare. “Rumors,” she said. “You have testified to nothing about which the Fair King is not fully aware.”
“Your rumors have been leaving a trail of corpses across my city,” Jackaby insisted. “And they’ve been recruiting from your side of the veil to do it. Redcaps, vampires, nixies.”
Serif was impassive. “Your city is of little concern to us, Seer, and a handful of Unseelie nuisances are nothing that the Fair King cannot quell. If you have nothing further—”
The beads of white spinning around Jackaby suddenly collided at a single point, bursting into a brilliant, blinding flash. I shielded my eyes, and when I looked up again, blinking in surprise, an archway had opened in midair. It was rimmed with sparkling light, and beyond it I could see a room lined with heavy columns. Serif’s words appeared to be caught in her throat. Virgule found his voice before she did. “Our master will see you now.”
Chapter Four
The council room of Arawn, the Fair King and lord of the Seelie fae, was not bathed in golden light, it was not cool and airy, and it definitely did not smell of vanilla and gentle citrus. The room in which we found ourselves as we crossed through the portal appeared to be part of a medieval castle. The walls were hewn of massive stones and hung with heavy tapestries depicting all manner of humans and beasts engaged in war, in sport, and in activities that would have made my mother blush. Above us the columns gave way to vaulted ceilings that might have looked equally at home in a cathedral. A wide fire occupied most of one wall, and in spite of the cavernous space, the air was hot and heavy. At one end of the room was a terraced rostrum, like the pulpit of a church, and on this stood a tall throne embedded with gems that sparkled violet in the crackling firelight. The throne stood empty, but on either side of it sat twin hunting hounds, milky white with vivid crimson ears. They lifted their heads to watch us as we filed into the room.
A wide oak table stood before the dais, and around this two figures were seated, quarreling. Both wore brown robes and neither looked especially regal. “A trade embargo with the Northern Elflands won’t accomplish anything,” said the first, a dour fellow with round spectacles. His hair was tied in a no-nonsense knot at the back of his head. “Lord Arawn is well aware that King Freyr has no authority over the dark elves. We would only strain one of our strongest alliances. Appealing to the dwarves is the best way.”
“You want to drive the kingdom deeper into debt to those filthy pit-breeders?” interrupted the other. He had a weaselly, angular face. “I’d almost rather see the stinking swarts keep robbing us blind than hand it over willingly to the ruddy longbeards.”
“Leave us.” The voice came from behind us. It was deep and firm.
There was no doubt in my mind, as I turned to see who had spoken, that I was now in the presence of royalty. Although Jackaby was taller, Lord Arawn seemed to tower over everyone in the room. His regal stature suggested that at any moment an artist might pop out from behind a pillar to finish up an oil painting of him. His features were graceful, but his frame was sturdier than those of his subjects, and his jawline was harder. His flaxen hair was topped with a polished bronze circlet, and around his shoulders was draped a cloak of deep, velvety purple clasped with a golden pendant engraved with a sunburst.
“My liege.” Serif knelt. “The Seer begs an audience.”
“Thank you, General,” Arawn said. “I am aware. Please escort Ampersand and Kern to the aldermen’s hall. They can conclude their discussion without me.” The pair at the table had ceased their bickering and were already hastily packing up their papers. Serif bowed low.
“Captain.” The king turned to Virgule as Serif and the others filed out. “You may oversee the veil-gate.”
“Yes, my liege,” said Virgule, positioning himself ceremonially beside the portal.
“From within the fairy ring, if you please,” Arawn amended with a practiced calm.
“Yes, my liege.” Virgule nodded and then stepped back through the glowing doorway into the grove in Seeley’s Square. Behind him, the portal shimmered and then vanished with a faint pop like a soap bubble.
Jackaby and I found ourselves alone with Lord Arawn. The fire crackled away.
“Well,” Jackaby said. “You and I have different taste in decor, but I can’t argue with the entryway—a door like that gives quite the first impression. Nowhere to hang a knocker, though. Or a horseshoe.”
“In a thousand years,” Lord Arawn said, “that veil-gate has never been opened for a human. You may be the first mortals to ever cross through it.”
“It is quite an honor, sir,” I said. “Er—your majesty. It’s quite an honor, your majesty, sir.” I immediately wished I had remained silent.
“And what is she?” Arawn regarded me with detached amusement.