Veil Of Shadows

The ship sailed in the early dawn. Exhausted, Cedric had not noticed the sudden churning of the water beneath them, or the subtle feeling of movement. Perhaps it had even soothed him into deeper sleep. He would not complain. Only rest would ease the trials of their flight from the Underground, and all that preceded it.

No, not all. Some wounds would never heal, only seal off with time, waiting to split open and spew forth their pestilence again. He carried several of that kind. The freshest had not yet begun to close, and the pain was constant, even when he thought of other things.

When he’d first boarded the ferry and looked over the side rail into the ocean, he’d imagined the bodies of the Gypsies floating in their watery graves. He’d seen Dika’s face, too, unscarred but ashen blue, her hair floating around her submerged head.

When he’d come aboard the ship and watched the Faeries with their packs, for a moment he’d seen the panicked faces of the Gypsies as they had fled to the center of their camp, ready to leave the Underground entirely. A trip none of them would take.

He wondered if he was as doomed now as they were then, but unable to see it. The entire Kingdom of Queene Ayla was destroyed by Waterhorses from the deep, from beneath the sort of ocean they now traveled upon. And the ship’s hold reminded him of the Underground and the Darkworld…as if an echo that would not end.

He’d woken to find Cerridwen sitting beside him, her knees pulled to her chest, rocking as she stared blankly ahead. She’d looked frightened, but when he’d asked, she’d denied it.

“Sick again, from the motion of the ship,” she’d insisted, though why she would continue to rock, he could not fathom, as it seemed it would only make it worse. But he did not wish to have an argument.

“If you are staying here, I will go and see what other facilities are available for our use.” At first, he’d been uncertain whether or not to leave her, whether or not she was able to defend herself and her possessions, but after only a moment’s consideration, he’d realized that he could not spend the entire voyage in their hiding place. There was no time for her frailty, and perhaps leaving her to fend for herself would shock her out of her incapacitation.

Had Ayla been there, or Malachi, Cedric would have discussed his worries with them. But they were gone now, and he had never truly shared his fears with anyone, not completely. He was not sure which realization hurt him more.

The morning brought more of the same in the lower hold. Faeries, reduced to their primitive, trooping states, regarded Cedric with suspicion and hostility as he walked among them. It took incredible strength not to respond in kind; he did not wish to become like them, but the fear, and the pull to his old nature, were almost too strong. That was what had happened to them, and he did not wish to follow them down that way.

He found the door they had entered through the night before. Now, it was closed, and when he tried the handle, it did not open. A momentary panic gripped him. What if the Humans had lied to Bauchan? What if the ship sailed to some port where Human Enforcers would await them? It took all of his will not to claw at the steel, to calm his mind.

“It is an unsettling thing, is it not?” Bauchan’s voice behind him did nothing to soothe Cedric’s nerves, and he closed his eyes a moment to force away his panic.

“It is.” His voice scraped out, betrayed the turmoil inside him. He took a deep breath. “I had forgotten how very stifling the Underground was, until I stood under the sky again. Now that I am enclosed once more…it is unpleasant.”

He turned to face Bauchan, found the Faery as clean and unrumpled as he had been the night before. He smoothed back a matted rope of hair with one ring-encumbered hand and nodded lazily. “Unpleasant, yes. I fear this entire journey will be one of unpleasantness. But we have endured hardships far greater in our time, have we not?”

“Have we?” Cedric narrowed his eyes as he surveyed the other Faery. Bauchan had never lived in the Underground. His skin was not translucent white from a lack of sunlight, his eyes not dull for want of starlight. He outfitted himself with the trappings of Human luxury, and dared stand before one who had remained faithful to the Fae race and claim hardship.

Almost faithful, Cedric reminded himself, and felt another pang of sorrow at the remembrance of Dika.

Bauchan disregarded his comment—though he reserved his offense for a later time, Cedric was certain—and motioned for the other Faery to walk with him. “The captain of this vessel came to speak with me this morning. He believes that once we have put the harbor behind us, it will be safe for us to leave the hold and go to the upper deck. I have asked him, on your behalf, to provide extra rations at mealtime for the Royal Heir. She did not look well.”

“She is well enough.” The last thing Cedric needed now was to have to protect Cerridwen from Bauchan’s scheming in the guise of kindness. “What can we expect, in terms of rations, though? I do not worry for myself, but for some of these Faeries, who are near feral already. I have been out trooping, and I have seen how it can affect the weaker of our race.”

“You assume they are weak?” Bauchan’s eyes glittered with humor or malice, Cedric was not certain which.

He fixed the Ambassador with a gaze that was not threatening, but could not be misconstrued. “I believe that if they had been stronger of will, they would not have left with you.”

Bauchan took umbrage with this, true feeling finally visible in his expression. But only for a moment. A tight smile that grew a bit more relaxed, a bit more natural with each passing heartbeat, until it was nearly impossible to tell that he’d been angered in the first place, spread across his lips. “You will forgive them their weakness, I hope, now that you have joined them.”

“I have joined them out of duty to my Queene.” He did not wish to argue, but the man drew him into it so easily. The journey would be most interesting, as would its culmination. “I still have my own reservations.”

“Reservations,” Bauchan repeated with a soft laugh. “Yes, I understand. You fear that your mate will be in some danger from my Queene. And I do not begrudge you those fears. If I did not know Danae the way I know her—and that is to say, very well—and I were in your position, I might have the same fears.”

It was a well-rehearsed speech, Cedric credited Bauchan for that. “You can assure me, then, that she will not be a trophy for your Queene? That she will not be viewed as a threat, or that she will not be pressed into slavery in order to appease Danae’s ego?”

“My, but you Underground Fae are a ruthless kind, are you not?” Bauchan laughed through his expression of mock horror. “To have thought of such a thing!”

Cedric smiled with him, but his patience wore thin. “We are not newborn Humans, Bauchan. We are Fae. Born with a capacity for deceit far greater than any other species on Earth or in the Astral. It would be very unwise to forget that.”

“So true,” Bauchan agreed easily. “But then, why should Danae be threatened by the Royal Heir? She does not seek to make an issue of her…title, does she?”

Careful now, Cedric cautioned himself. He’d already given away enough to make Bauchan doubt their intentions, if not suspect the truth outright.

They came to the end of the aisleway, on the opposite side of the ship from where Cedric had left Cerridwen, to another row of shipping containers. A blanket stretched over a gap between two of them, and Bauchan gestured to it. “Come inside. I have nothing to offer to you, but then, you would not take it anyway.”

At least the Ambassador did not think him so thick as to fall for being gifted into service by a few crumbs or a cup of water. He followed Bauchan through the gap. Past the huge cargo containers, a space that spanned the width of the ship opened. Though it was large, it was crowded with all manner of objects so that it was nearly impossible to walk. Cushions, chests, even Human furniture of sofas and chairs, covered all of the floor space, and atop all of these perched Bauchan’s retinue.

“I had wondered where you had hidden them away,” Cedric said, picking his way carefully through the space between an ornamental table and a chest overflowing with silks and jewelry.

“We had much more room on the journey over.” Bauchan waved a hand apologetically. “We like to travel in comfort. You cannot blame us, can you?”

He could blame them for any number of things, but kept silent.

“It is a pity your Queene would not leave the Underground and join us,” Bauchan continued. “She would have had this whole chamber to herself.”

“And her life. But Queene Ayla did not require luxuries. She was a commoner before she took the throne, after the death of her mate, King Garret.” Cedric took care to speak of Cerridwen’s lineage. Though he did not wish to give the impression that Cerridwen would press her claim, there was no reason to let Bauchan forget that Cerridwen was—as far as the Court believed—a descendant of Queene Mabb.

Bauchan nodded. “Yes, Flidais told us the tale of how, exactly, Ayla came to the throne. We were quite enraptured by it, were we not, friends?”

A few murmurs of approval came from the Faeries draped languidly over the furnishings. They appreciated the blood and horror of the tale, nothing more. It sullied what had happened in the Underground, sullied Ayla, if they believed she were anything like them.

“She did what she had to do, in order to save the Kingdom.” A bit dramatic, but the truth. Garret would have turned the Faeries of the Underground into what Bauchan and his fellows—indeed, what Cedric expected all of Danae’s Court to be—had become. They had already been as weak-willed and self-indulgent. The Fae grumbling and desperate in the stronghold were lacking from this retinue in only one regard: access to material wealth. The selfishness was the same.

Bauchan’s eyes widened, as though he had meant no offense, had not meant to trivialize Ayla’s reign as he had. “Oh, and we greatly admire her for it,” he insisted. “Do we not?”

“Do not do that,” Cedric snapped as Bauchan’s companions began to mumble their agreement. “I am not impressed by such displays.”

“Nor would I expect you to be,” Bauchan agreed smoothly. “Not with the experience you have behind you. After all, if Queene Ayla saw fit to entrust you with her daughter, not only as a mate, but to be kept safe in her absence, you must be not only loyal, but highly intelligent.”

Cedric did not know how to respond, so he stayed silent while Bauchan made a show of pacing the small bit of cleared floor he occupied.

“But I wonder at how loyal you are to her,” Bauchan continued. “Was there no command from her that you should…Excuse me, I do not wish to pry into affairs that do not concern me.”

Cedric could not help his laughter at that. “Why would that concern you now, after you have meddled so thoroughly?”

Bauchan ignored him. “Ah, but I must know. Why did the Queene not charge you with returning some of her subjects? Surely, she wanted to see the Lightworld Court flourish even after her death?”

“My Queene had but one mission, the one entrusted to her by the Gods.” Cedric chose his words carefully, wanted no misunderstanding.

“But it would be so easy,” Bauchan pressed on. “Our journey had not even begun and they were discontent. It would have been no trick to lure them back to the Underground.”

“I did not come here to upset your plans, nor the plans of your Queene,” Cedric stated firmly. “Nor do I care what her plans might be, so long as Cerridwen will not be harmed by them. With all the troubles that plagued my Queene and the Faeries of the Underground, I do not believe the destruction of the Lightworld to be any great loss. I only wish it could have come without the expense of ones I cared for deeply.”

Bauchan nodded. “To hear you say such a thing brings me great relief. I must admit, I feared some trickery on your part, especially when Flidais did not return. But knowing that you speak earnestly, I no longer fear your presence, or what actions I might have had to take to prevent you from harming my Queene.”

Cedric hoped that this would be the end of the conversation, even turned to go, but Bauchan’s voice stopped him. “And please, be sure to impress upon the Royal Heir that I am her servant on this journey, and upon our arrival at Queene Danae’s Court. I do not wish her to feel…friendless there.”

“She will not be friendless,” Cedric assured him, hoping that the icy weight of threat he pressed into his words would not be lost on the Ambassador. “I will be at her side every moment. I am, perhaps, the greatest ally and protector she has at this time.”

Three

In most ways, the days on the ship were long and more dull than any Palace banquet had ever been. Still, the first day at sea had lifted some of the fog of sorrow from Cerridwen’s mind. It had helped, strangely enough, that the other Faeries had eagerly abandoned the hold and went above when given the signal that it was safe to do so. Many of them had taken their possessions and set up camp under the sky, leaving the hold less crowded. It had been a strange feeling, after so many years at Court, to be left alone, and it was a good feeling, as well.

Cedric had asked her to accompany him up to the deck a few times. He spent his days at the edge of the upper deck, staring down into the water, the same grim expression on his face. A few times, something had broken the spell the waves seemed to have over him, and he’d asked Cerridwen to walk with him, to keep up appearances, she supposed.

But he’d sworn only to protect her, not to keep her entertained, so she did not approach him during his times of deep melancholy. On those rare moments when he’d sought out her company, they’d found little to talk about, anyway. She did not wish to discuss what had happened, and it would not have been wise to, but they did not know much of each other beyond the horrible times of the past weeks. She was most glad for the nights, when they would sleep, or at least pretend to, so that she did not have to think of things to say to him.

There was no doubt in her mind that Cedric would keep her best interests in mind as they embarked on this strange journey. But whether out of concern for her, or out of obligation to the promise he had made her mother was a mystery in itself.

She wondered why it mattered. It should not. But he had kept her safe when Malachi had fallen in the Elven fortress, and during their flight from the Darkworld. He had not coddled her—in fact, he’d been angry—but he had truly seemed to care whether she lived or died.

More than that, he had treated her with respect when the rest of the Court had discounted her as pretty decoration.

Perhaps he had not lost that respect for her, if he did blame her for her mother’s death. He had loved her mother as a close friend, and Malachi, as well. That was more than Cerridwen could ever hope anyone would feel toward her, now that she knew herself to be a selfish, reckless creature. But she hoped that Cedric cared enough that he did not view her as a burden, and that he would not continue to feel obligated to her when they arrived at the Upworld settlement. If he returned to the Underground, if that were even a possibility, perhaps she would not have disrupted his life irreparably. If he stayed in the Upworld settlement, he might find a mate there and be happy. But he should not feel indebted to her, and to her mother, forever.

It had occurred to her that morning, when the movement of the ship had woken her, that she could be embarking not only on a journey to a new home, but to a new life altogether. If the events of the past few days had not unfolded as they had, she would still be in the Underground, living out her days there. Mated to Cedric, if she’d bent to her mother’s wishes, or living in the Darkworld with her Elf, Fenrick, had he not turned out to be a spy against the Fae.

Now, though, the future was not so sacrosanct. It frightened her, but it was not nearly so frightening as knowing that her life had been decided for her. Though her heart was still wounded from Fenrick’s betrayal, she wondered at the type of Faeries who made up Danae’s Court. If they were as handsome as Bauchan, surely she would find someone she did not find objectionable.

She wondered, too, what role she would have in this other Queene’s Court. Whereas before she had been hidden away and taken out only for special occasions during which she was meant to be seen and not heard, she was a Queene now. Or, she would be, if she had her way. If they failed, though, and this Danae let her live, she might be just like any normal Faery. That promised a sort of freedom, and freedom held for her giddy fascination and terrible fear.

No matter what might happen, she knew that she would always be haunted by what she had seen in the Underground. Not just the horrible violence of her last few days there. She would never forget the sickening rush of exhilaration she’d felt at the sight of battle, or her sorrow at watching her parents cut down before her; those images would force themselves into her mind every time she closed her eyes, and chase away any happy thought she might begin to feel, she was certain. But she would always remember the awfulness of the lives lived by the creatures there, the scrabbling for sustenance, the very real possibility that something could come out of any one of the shadows and end the life they struggled to lead.

She would not live in such a way, nor would she allow anyone she cared about to, if she could help it.

If the days were interminable, the nights were only slightly less so. But the evenings, they were nearly pleasant. Once the sun set, a change would come over the Fae. Probably relief. Cerridwen felt this every day that passed. The setting sun showed them that they were one day closer to their destination, that soon they would be quit of the ship and one another, free to seek out new companionship in the Upworld settlement. Free to set up new lives not encircled by walls.

A few of the Faeries had brought instruments in their flight from the Underground, drums and whistles and pipes, and a harp. They assembled on the deck, under the night sky dazzled with stars, and played until the dawn lit the sky. Sometimes, the Human sailors would come and watch them, but always from a safe distance, always wary.

Cerridwen watched, as well, because she was not fool enough to think that she could truly be a part of it. But being near the others was enough to make her feel less lonely, and so she watched them celebrate their journey’s progress.

On the fifth night, Bauchan approached her, practiced smile in place. “And where is your mate? I have not seen him any night yet, when everyone else is here.”

She would not let him goad her into giving anything away, not even her unhappiness. “He is tired,” she said with a shrug. “And he does not care for parties.”

“Too tired to dance with his lovely betrothed?”

Bauchan clucked in disapproval.

“Too tired for disrespectful celebration in the wake of terrible tragedy,” she replied coolly.

The humor fled Bauchan’s face, and his eyes glittered like those of the great, sleek sea creatures that bumped and brushed against the hull of the boat as they slept at night. “Tragedy, yes. The death of your mother, the Queene.”

“And countless others, and the destruction of our way of life.” She held his gaze, hoped he would see something of her mother in her.

“But no such a tragedy for yourself? You will be Queene, after all.”

Be cautious, she warned herself, but her anger was far stronger than her restraint. “Not all of the Fae in the Underground have survived,” she snapped. “Many of them died at the hands of the Elves and Waterhorses because they would not turn their back on their true Queene.”

She had said too much, but she did not care. Her hands trembled, her chest jerked with her angry pulse.

“I have upset you.” He tried another harmless smile. “It seems I cannot say the right thing when I am near you.”

“I am sure it is not just me.” She would give him no foothold. “Why does anyone fall for your obvious manipulations?”

Hatred, she had learned long ago, looked especially ugly on a beautiful face. Bauchan was more beautiful than most, so on him the effect was terrifying. “You should watch your step, little one. I may have underestimated you, but I know exactly the kind of creature your Cedric is. I can turn him from you in a moment.”

She laughed at the absurdity of his arrogance. No power on Earth, the Upworld or the Underground, could make Cedric betray the last promise he’d made to her mother.

“You do not believe me?” Bauchan’s voice was as cold and deadly as a blade. “I turned Flidais, ever faithful Flidais, from your mother.”

“I would be careful if I were you,” she warned.

“What will you do to me?” Bauchan had the nerve to laugh at her. The fool. “You have no allies. No real power. If you do intend to overthrow my Queene, and I suspect you do, you have no army and no Court.”

“I do not need an army! I can easily do what I did to Flidais, to you and anyone else who stands in my way!”

The music stopped; the dancing followed.

They could not have all heard. Soon, she knew, a ripple of whisper would begin, growing and spreading until their outraged voices would be louder than the instrument had been.

Bauchan looked so pleased with himself, she wished she really could do to him what she’d done to Flidais. The red haze of her anger was so similar to what she’d felt in the battle in the Elven Great Hall. A family trait, she thought with pride. Her mother had been a skilled assassin. Her father—her true father—a great warrior. She did not falter under the accusing stares.

Bauchan called for quiet, and the crowd fell silent. He stalked forward, so close that if she’d had a knife, she could have easily sent him the way of that treacherous Fae.

“And what did you do to Flidais?”

It was too late now to keep from telling everything. And that must have been his plan all along. To push her to this. He was, indeed, very good at this sort of trickery.

Still, she would not let him see that he had beaten her. “I killed the traitor Flidais. Before we boarded the ferry, I killed her with a dagger in her throat, and I have not thought twice about it since!”

A gasp went up, and she turned to address the Faeries that had formed a circle around them. “I dealt with Flidais the way we should deal with all cowards and traitors. She lied to you, working with Bauchan to deliver you as playthings to his Queene. You would not be here, on this boat, bound for an unknown future, if she had not promised this man something in exchange for your presence!”

Bauchan smirked at Cerridwen and looked around. “You would not be free of the oppression of your Queene, who would not let you decide for yourself whether or not you wished to stay buried underground,” Bauchan countered. “Give up this foolish argument, little one. I have won, my Queene has won. You no longer have a Court to support you, Your Majesty.”

“Bauchan! What is the meaning of this?”

Cedric appeared out of the air, it seemed, and stalked through the crowd of Faeries around them. He did not look at her, did not divert his focus from Bauchan.

She’d seen him look this way before, when he’d stood, blood-drenched in the thick of battle. He was no less terrifying now. He stood between Bauchan and Cerridwen, so that she could not see his face, but the tone of his voice told her that she would not want to see it, anyway.

“Step away from my mate,” he growled.

Four

Cedric had been nearly asleep when the guard had burst through the blanket that partitioned off their sleeping quarters. It was difficult, he found, to sleep with another body beside his. Twice now, he’d woken to find that he’d put his arm around Cerridwen as she slept, had dreamed she was Dika lying asleep in his arms.