Once Broken Faith

TWENTY-THREE

THINGS WERE NOT GETTING BACK to normal. There was no version of normal I could envision where I would save the day—nearly getting killed in the process—awaken my lover, my squire, and my friend, and find myself not eight hours later standing in front of the High King and High Queen of the Westlands, the Queen in the Mists, and Duke Sylvester Torquill, listening to them deciding my fate.

Some days it’s not worth crawling out of the shallow woodland grave, I swear.

“Be that as it may,” Aethlin was saying, “she has now been present for the deaths of two monarchs, responsible for the replacement of two others, and directly responsible for the death of one of the Firstborn. These are issues we must consider.”

“I don’t see why,” said Sylvester. “October is a hero of the realm. It’s her job to become involved with awkward situations.”

“How many crowns did you redistribute, exactly, before your retirement?” asked Maida. Her question was mild, but Sylvester flushed red and turned his face away. “My husband is right. While October may be innocent of any wrongdoing, our vassals are starting to become concerned. One cannot simply leave a king-breaker unattended.”

“She’s not unattended,” protested Arden. “She’s a willing member of a noble household, and is here on a regular basis.”

“She has allegiances among the Undersea, she socializes with Firstborn, she’s set to unite the Divided Court with the Court of Cats, and our son thinks she hung the moon and stars,” said Aethlin. “Again, we know that she’s innocent, but to the outside eye, it certainly looks as if she’s gathering power for a political coup.”

I had been told to stay silent unless addressed directly, but I couldn’t help myself: I burst out laughing, causing all four of the people acting as my judge and jury to turn and stare at me.

Sylvester was the first to recover. He had spent the most time with me, after all. “Is something funny, October?”

“The idea of me even attempting a political coup, much less pulling it off,” I said. “I mean, come on, really? I don’t want power. I’ve given up power every time it’s been given to me. I’ve done my best to be responsible for as little as possible, because sometimes I don’t even trust my ability to take care of myself. I’m not a king-breaker. I’m not a scheming vizier waiting for my chance to seize the throne. I’m just trying to get by. That’s all. No big secret plan, no hidden agenda. Survival.”

“You’ve isolated yourself from your liege,” said Aethlin.

I glared at him. “I don’t care if you’re Quentin’s father or not, how Sylvester and I handle our personal conflicts is none of your damn business.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I would have thought my position as High King of the continent where you live might have been more important than the identity of my son.”

“Which just proves that you don’t know me very well,” I shot back. “Yes, Sylvester and I have had our problems, mostly relating to the part where he lied to me for my mother’s sake. I don’t like being lied to by anyone, least of all the people who are supposed to be looking out for me. We’re working things out. Don’t get in the middle.”

“You can see where it would look like you were trying to act independent of his control.”

“I never do anything heroic or stupid unless I’m under someone else’s control,” I said. “I’d be a lot happier if everyone would just leave me alone to eat pizza and watch television, but you people seem to constantly need saving, so here I am.”

Maida looked amused. Aethlin looked unconvinced.

“She had the opportunity to take the throne of the Mists, you know,” said Arden. Everyone turned to her. She looked coolly back. “Once the pretender Queen had been proven false, if October hadn’t forced me to come forward, she could have claimed the throne on the grounds that there was no legitimate heir, and she was the daughter of a Firstborn. No one would have contested her. Probably not even you.”

“That’s true enough,” allowed Aethlin. “It doesn’t change the rest.”

“It changes everything,” said Arden. “If she wanted power, she would have it. She went to Silences on my order. The King and Queen of Highmountain came here on your invitation. She may be a nexus for chaos and disorder, but she’s not a political genius. She can barely dress herself half the time.”

“You’re too kind,” I said dryly, suddenly very aware that I was still wearing a borrowed coat over a shift, and no shoes. “What do you need me to say? Because while I get that this is politically necessary, my fiancé and my squire just woke up, and they probably want me in shouting distance.”

“We need you to say that you have no intent to destabilize the political structure of the Westlands,” said Aethlin.

I shrugged. “Easy. I have no intent to destabilize the political structure of the Westlands. I may do it anyway, but if I do, it’ll be a mistake.”

“October—” began Sylvester.

“No, don’t,” I said. “Look, Your Highnesses, I’m not going to promise never to do something I’m already not planning to do, because I can’t see the future. But I’ve never gone out of my way to hurt anyone who didn’t deserve it. From what I can see, you don’t deserve it. I like you okay, and Quentin loves you. Honestly, I just want to go home, and maybe start planning my wedding.” It no longer seemed quite so abstract. It was something that needed to happen.

“Will you have the wedding in Toronto?” The question came from Maida.

It knocked the wind out of me. I stared at her, my mouth working soundlessly, like the fish I used to be. Finally, I managed to stammer, “W-what?”

“Will you and the King of Cats marry in Toronto, at our knowe?” Maida shrugged. “It would show there was no bad blood between us; that you had the support of the High Throne, and that the High Throne was not set to be a target of your accidental wrath; and it would be nice to host a wedding. It’s been too long.”

Again, I stared at her. My mind was racing. Tybalt’s objection to getting married at Shadowed Hills was twofold: he didn’t like Sylvester, and he needed to avoid looking like he was swearing fealty to the Divided Courts. Getting married in Muir Woods shared the second problem, if not the first. Arden was his equal, not his superior.

But there was no High King of Cats. Getting married in Toronto could solve a lot of things. “I can’t agree without talking to Tybalt, but I’m not opposed to the idea,” I said carefully.

“In that case, I believe we can agree that your actions were necessary and proportionate, and do not represent a pattern of hostility against the nobility of the Westlands.” Maida gave her husband a challenging look. He nodded, and she smiled. “We appreciate your time.”

“Uh, sure,” I said. “Look, about time . . . when are you planning to wake the others? I feel like I should be here for that.”

“Queen Siwan expects to have the potion ready by morning,” said Arden, sounding confident now that she was back on comfortable ground. “They’ll wake Dianda first, so that we can focus our apologies on her, and let her decide what’s to be done with Duke Michel. I’ll wait to wake my brother until after all the guests have gone. He’ll have enough to adjust to without adding in a hundred new faces that he won’t need to remember right away.”

I nodded. “Smart.”

“Yes.” Arden looked down the line to Sylvester.

“Luna is already agitating to have Rayseline woken,” he said gravely. “I would appreciate it if you could be there.”

“Of course,” I said. “Whenever you need me.”

He inclined his head.

“The others who sleep will be dealt with one by one, until all are either awake or sleeping off a sentence that shouldn’t be commuted,” said Aethlin. “It may take years, but by the time we’re done, no one will slumber who doesn’t deserve it.”

I thought of all the people who might be woken, and what they might be deserving of—especially Simon Torquill. But that was Sylvester’s problem, not mine, and all of this was a problem for another day. “That’s good,” I said. “May I go?”

“You may,” said the High King. I curtsied deeply to the four of them—my liege, my Queen, the parents of my squire, the people who had called this conclave and changed our world forever—and turned as I straightened, moving toward the door. There were people waiting for me out there, people who I had thought were going to be lost for a long, long time, who were magically, gloriously still with me. So I was going to go and be with them.

Out of everything in the world, that was the only thing that really mattered. Everything else was just stage dressing. They were the show.