Ruler of the Realm

Seven

Pyrgus whirled, one hand reaching instinctively for his blade. Then he saw the sweep of long black hair.

‘What the Hael are you doing here?’ Gela asked crossly. ‘I told you the boathouse!’ She had a gorgeous voice but a peculiar accent, probably due to the fact that the Ogyris family came originally from Haleklind.

‘Got lost,’ Pyrgus told her quickly. Which wasn’t strictly true since he’d only been sidetracked while looking for the boathouse, but he’d discovered you had to be careful with Gela otherwise she buried you under a whole heap of questions. His heart was still pounding furiously, but now it had nothing to do with the shock of the hand on his shoulder.

‘How could you get lost?’ Gela asked. ‘I gave you very detailed instructions. Don’t you know you could get killed getting lost?’

It was happening again. Pyrgus decided to answer the first question and ignore the second.

‘I couldn’t read your instructions,’ he said.

‘Why not? You wrote them down. You can’t complain about my writing.’

‘No, I can’t. And I’m not. I’m just saying I couldn’t read the instructions – the instructions I wrote down.’ He hesitated, then added, ‘Because I -’ He was going to say Because I couldn’t see them, but realised that would just lead to another question and changed it to, ‘Because I didn’t bring a light with me.’

‘You didn’t bring a light with you?’ Gela asked incredulously. She tossed her head in disbelief.

Pyrgus decided to stop this nonsense by asking a question of his own. ‘What are those things in the glasshouse?’

Gela was a girl about his own age, but there any resemblance ended. Pyrgus was a prince who looked like a peasant, short and sturdy. No one would take Gela for a peasant in a thousand years. The clothes she was wearing had the understated stamp of designer flair. Her hair had the cut and sheen of expert styling and her face was finely featured. Her eyes were large for a Faerie of the Night, large and liquid. She was, quite simply, the most exotic creature he’d ever seen.

‘Ah,’ she said.

Pyrgus waited. ‘Ah?’

‘Those are something you shouldn’t have seen.’

Pyrgus glanced through the glass. ‘Why not?’ he asked curiously.

‘Oh, you know…’ Gela shrugged. She said casually, ‘You haven’t touched the glass, have you?’

‘No…’ Or perhaps he had. Hadn’t he pressed his nose against it? With Gela standing so close Pyrgus couldn’t remember. He looked at her suspiciously. ‘Why?’

‘Daddy has it alarmed. Lethal force and all that.’

‘Lethal force and all what?’

Gela shrugged again. ‘You know. It would kill you.’

‘Just touching the glass?’ He couldn’t believe it. This was worse than Chalkhill and Brimstone’s cobblestone minefield.

‘I’m not sure,’ Gela said. ‘Maybe not just touching it. But if you tried to get in -’

‘Well, I didn’t,’ Pyrgus said. ‘Or touch the glass.’ He frowned. ‘Isn’t that a bit… extreme? I mean I know the sculptures must be very valuable, but -’

‘Oh, it’s not that. It’s just stupid politics.’

Politics? This was getting more confusing.

‘What’s a glasshouse got to do with politics?’

Gela sighed deeply. ‘I’m not supposed to know this, but Father’s growing them for somebody.’

‘Growing what?’ Pyrgus asked, utterly bewildered.

She nodded in the direction of the glasshouse. ‘The flowers.’

‘Those aren’t flowers,’ Pyrgus said. ‘They’re sculptures.’

Gela tilted her head to give him a supercilious look. ‘If they aren’t flowers,’ she sniffed, ‘why do you think the lights are on?’

Pyrgus looked at her blankly.

Gela said with exaggerated patience, ‘If they were just sculptures , why would Father set the growlights to come on in the middle of the night? Why would he want the place all lit up and attracting attention when he didn’t have to? Why would he keep them in a glasshouse in the first place? Why wouldn’t all his boring guards be beating you up this very minute?’

The only one of Gela’s questions that really made sense was the last one. ‘Why aren’t his boring guards beating me up this very minute?’ he asked. He didn’t believe what she said about the flowers, but there were hundreds of crystal sculptures in there, each one worth a fortune. Why didn’t Gela’s father have a whole army of guards around them? He could certainly afford it.

Gela’s face took on that dangerous look she got when she was impatient. ‘Because guards attract attention. None of this is supposed to be happening, you know. You put guards around something and everybody knows it’s important. Father just wants to grow his flowers quietly at night when there’s nobody around. He makes the glass opaque during the day so you can’t see what’s inside.’ She blinked slowly, covering and uncovering those magnificent eyes. ‘Besides, he has some really dangerous spells on that building.’

‘Why doesn’t he opaque it at night? The growglobes are inside.’

‘Something to do with starlight,’ Gela said vaguely. She glanced over her shoulder. ‘Look, are we going to stand here all night discussing horticulture?’

‘Who’s he growing them for?’ Pyrgus asked. He still wasn’t sure he believed they really were flowers, but it might be useful to play along with the story.

‘That’s a secret,’ Gela told him severely.

‘Do you know?’

‘Of course I know – I’m Daddy’s pet, aren’t I?’ She sniffed. ‘But I’ve told you far too much already.’ Her head went up again. ‘Now, are we going to the boathouse for our meeting, or have you forgotten all the fuss you made about it?’

‘We’re going to the boathouse,’ Pyrgus said.

It turned out the boathouse wasn’t all that far – he’d remembered his instructions well enough before he’d sidetracked to the glasshouse. He followed her along the lakeside, then up a short path to a smallish jetty. There was a wooden building to one side of it. Gela pushed the door and disappeared inside. Pyrgus hesitated for a moment, then followed her.

It was pitch black inside. Gela’s voice floated imperiously out of the darkness ahead.

‘Close the door.’

Pyrgus closed the door behind him and at once a glowglobe illuminated overhead. It had the low light setting Faeries of the Night preferred, but he was able to see well enough. Gela was standing a few feet away beside two rowing boats and some fishing tackle. She looked stunning.

‘Well,’ she asked, ‘are you going to tell me why we’re here?’

Pyrgus walked across and kissed her.