The World Below, page 46
‘Are they here to protect us or protect others from us?’ Pris attempts to clarify.
‘Here we are. This is the suite of rooms you will be sharing.’ Susan looks at Percival and me as she reaches for the handle, avoiding answering Pris altogether.
The doors swing open, revealing a sitting room with two chairs and a sofa arranged around a fire. By the window sits a table with four chairs. Four doors break up the walls on either side of the room—two on the right and two on the left.
‘The guest bedrooms are through the doors on the left,’ Susan informs us. ‘There is a shared bathroom between. Thank goodness the new King arranged to have the plumbing modernised so you can have a bath without someone having to haul water up for you.’
‘I was kinda hoping for a shower,’ I say, too tired to hide my disappointment.
Susan laughs. ‘We are getting there, but we’re not that modern yet. I see you arrived without a change of clothes. I’m sure the Royal Wardrobe will have something for you. I will arrange for clothes to be brought up while you bathe.’
‘Two guest rooms?’ Pris raises an eyebrow. ‘Where will Percival be? We would like him to be accommodated with us.’
‘I’m sorry, Princess, I haven’t been quite clear. Snake Fieth and Percival of the Wyld Woods have been invited to stay here by the suite’s occupants. You are to stay in the royal quarters.’
Pris drops my hand and glares at Susan. This isn’t going to be pretty.
‘I want to stay here with the others.’
Susan is clearly used to dealing with Pris in her demanding mode. ‘I’m afraid that is not only not possible, but it's inappropriate.’
‘So what do I have to do to make it possible and “appropriate”?’ Pris air quotes appropriate, underlining the sarcasm dripping from her words.
‘When the King heard who was in your party, he arranged where you were to stay himself. I am unable to go against his wishes, Pris, no matter how much it annoys you.’
Annoyed is a bit of an understatement. Anger is rolling off Pris in waves.
‘So, let’s go talk with him and arrange something more suitable.’
Susan sends Pris a hard stare. ‘This is the Unseelie Court, Priscilla, and you do not go barging in and demanding the King cater your every whim—especially not when you are dressed like a navvy.’
The door swings open as if to punctuate Susan’s words, and a guard’s head appears. ‘Do we have a problem here, Lady Susan?’
Susan doesn’t respond, as she and Pris are locked in a battle of wills.
I take Pris’s hand. ‘Pris, it’s only for tonight. We shouldn’t make waves before we’ve even met the King.’ I lean in closer and whisper, ‘Besides, we have waited this long to spend time alone together. We can wait a little longer.’
A smile curls the corner of her lips. ‘Or I could just sneak back here later,’ she whispers, her breath tickling my ear.
I lean my forehead against hers for a moment, simply enjoying her being close, then pull away.
‘Percival, look after Snake and see he doesn’t cause any mischief,’ Pris says, brushing past the guard as she leaves the room.
Susan barks out a laugh. ‘I don’t think Snake’s the one we should be worrying about.’
The door closes, and I almost collapse on the floor. Percival eyes me critically, and his nose wrinkles in distaste.
‘You take the first bath. I wouldn’t want to upset our hosts with your odour if they arrive before we are clean.’
‘I’ll try not to be offended by that,’ I tell him, but without malice. If I’m honest, I’m so relieved to be bathing, it's all I can think about.
I head for the closest guest bedroom and make my way to the adjoining bathroom before Percival changes his mind. Compared to the public areas of the castle, it's relatively modern with blindingly white subway tiles and an enormous claw-footed bath. I turn the taps, and the water runs hot, steam gently filling the room. I groan as my muscles tremble in anticipation.
Quickly stripping out of my dirty clothes, I leave them in a pile behind the door. Finally, I slip into the water, emerging myself fully before leaning back and half lying down, allowing the glorious heat to soothe my body and soul. I've a lot to think about, and maybe even a lot to plan for, but I clear my mind and sink beneath the surface again, blocking everything out.
The last time I visited the Unseelie Court with Eleanora, the hallways were packed with courtiers and their hangers-on. To arrive and find everything so quiet is strange and quite unsettling. Given my experiences on the way here, I do not need anything else to throw me off balance.
When we walk through the portal, not a single sound emanates from the staterooms, where no doubt everyone is eating. No music, no laughter, and no sounds of fun being had? I will admit, I was a cat last time I was here, and so my hearing was a little more acute, but this is still way too quiet.
I wander over to the fire, and I add another log before taking a seat in the chair closest to the blaze. What was I thinking? I should have asked to speak with Eleanora’s sister, Euphemia. She is the witch responsible for creature care in the north of the World Above.
She always has her finger on the pulse. Effie would be able to fill me in with what is going on, because, make no mistake, there is something other than the failure of magic turning the court into a shadow of its former self.
Agitated by my thoughts, I wander over to the window. Leaning my forehead against the lower pane, I watch the activity in the streets of Inverness below. It is early evening, and the humans are heading for their homes, or perhaps they are leaving for an evening out. The scene is so normal, it only serves to accentuate the uncanny atmosphere in here.
The Unseelie Court uses the windows of Inverness Castle to view the outside world, but the glass shimmers if you look closely. That slight distortion tells me the court’s wards are operational, keeping us all just out of time and space. The wards are still working, which is a relief, so it must be something else. A light tap sounds at the door, and I pull myself away from the view.
‘Come in.’
Moments later a female servant—a brownie, judging from her slight form—enters dressed in a floor-length black dress and white apron. She bobs a curtsey before carrying a covered tray over to the table. I barely have time to say thank you before she backs out of the room.
The scent of spices sets my mouth watering. I lean over the trays and lift a cover. Haggis and mashed potatoes—excellent. On another plate, the bread is still warm enough for the butter to be melting through. Lovely.
Another knock on the door has me dropping the cover back on the dish.
‘Come in,’ I say again.
A new servant enters with clothes draped over her arm.
‘Where do you want these, sir?’ she asks.
‘The smaller set in the farthest guest room and the larger in the other.’
She silently distributes the clothes and leaves without making another sound, and I am once again alone. I debate whether to start eating without Snake. After all, I do not want the food to get cold. Good manners win out over abject hunger, but I will not wait forever.
I knock on the door to Snake’s room and say loudly, ‘Food has arrived. I give you five minutes to dress before I start eating.’
My stomach rumbles, and I must admit, I am sorely tempted to start without my friend. I also want a distraction to keep my mind off the feelings of inadequacy and shame transforming into a cat stirred up. The whole experience shook my resolve to help Snake and Pris, reminding me of how out of practice I am at taking action.
To fill the time, I open the door to our suite and step into the corridor. A guard is beside me before I can leave the shadow of the doorway.
‘Can I help you with something, sir?’ he asks. His tone is polite, but I am under no illusion—he will not let me take another step further.
‘Yes. If you could, would you please send a message to Lady Euphemia? Let her know that Percival would like to speak with her as soon as she is free.’
‘I am sure I can arrange that. Now, if you would please step back inside.’ He pushes the door open behind me.
For some reason, even though he is being polite, his gesture irritates me more than his words. ‘And would it also be possible to have some tea and cakes sent up?’
He presses his lips together at my request, the only sign my treating him as a servant has annoyed him. ‘Of course, sir,’ he replies, his tone somewhat less polite than before.
‘Thank you.’ I smile smugly and return to the room. The guard shuts the door firmly behind me.
Snake is standing by the fire, wrapped only in a towel. ‘Have you eaten all the food, or did you leave some for me?’ he asks.
‘I have not even started, and I am sure I can wait until you get dressed.’
‘Dressed?’ he asks. ’In what?’
I draw in a breath and call on what little reserves of patience I have. In some ways my travelling companions are so capable, but every now and again, I find myself behaving like their parent.
‘A maid brought clothes up. They should be in your room.’
He stares at me as if I am mad.
‘I walked through there and didn’t see anything.’ He glances over at the food as if he is expecting me to say that we should eat and he can dress later.
Instead I open the door to his bedroom and point at the clothes laid out on the bed. ‘Those clothes? Yes, I can see how you would miss them.’
Snake mutters something under his breath as he holds up the shirt. He slumps on the bed. 'You may want to start dinner. It might take me a while to get into these.’
‘I know they look too small, but this is a magical court, after all.’
He stares blankly back at me, clearly not his usual self.
‘Take your time,’ I tell him. ‘I will have my bath and will heat up the food for us when I am done.’
He nods, and I slip into the bathroom. While the bath fills, I reach through the portal in the pocket of my trousers to find my own suit of clothes from my room at Eleanora’s.
I bathe quickly and then find myself having to wait for Snake. To fill the time, I wander around the living room, trying to work out whose rooms we are occupying. I do not find much in the way of ornamentation except for a couple of books on creature history beside one of the chairs, so I am guessing the inhabitants are most likely male, or perhaps they, like us, are only here temporarily.
From my previous visits to court, I know we are in the royal followers wing of the castle. Eleanora and I generally stay with Euphemia, so I have spent little time here. The witch is a great friend of Princess Petunia, the sister of Queen Ariana, and her rooms are in the royal wing, close to the princess's.
The best I can do is hope that we have been placed with friends rather than foes and that they will be prepared to help us convince the King to join us in the World Below.
If we can do that before I turn back into a cat, all the better.
CHAPTER 4
Family Reunions
Snake picks at the food on his plate, eats a forkful of mashed potato, then raises his eyes, his fork hovering over the haggis. ‘What’s this?’
‘It’s oats, and spices, and meat.’ What I don’t tell him is that the meat is mostly offal. I mean, the boy needs to eat, and I see no reason to put him off his food.
He takes a mouthful, chews thoughtfully, then smiles. He follows it with another. I stop watching after those initial mouthfuls because the way he is shovelling food into his mouth will surely quell even the most ravenous appetite. Taking a sip of water, I am surprised to find it's spring water. It refreshes me and is almost as good as a glass of wine—almost.
Before he has even cleared his plate, Snake’s head is drooping.
‘You should get some rest.’
He jolts awake. ‘I thought Pris might come back,’ he tells me as his face flushes red. ‘For some planning,’ he adds.
‘Of course,’ I agree, but I am not fooled. ‘I will be awake a while longer. I can wake you when she arrives.’
‘If you think—‘
‘Go. You are no good to anyone like this.’
He stands and reaches up in a stretch before tidying his plate and mug onto the serving platter. As he does so, there is another knock at the door, and Snake is suddenly alert.
‘Come in.’ I watch the door expectantly.
Snake smiles hopefully as the door slowly pushes open, and a servant enters with a plate of small cakes and a carafe of wine. No tea though, but I am sure the wine will do very nicely. A crestfallen Snake grabs a couple of cakes from the plate before disappearing into his bedroom.
‘The Lady Euphemia sends her regards and says she will join you soon. She also suggested wine would be better for your conversation this night instead of tea.’
‘She might well be right,’ I say dryly, but the servant has already left the room.
I finish eating my meal and tidy the dishes before scanning the bookshelves on either side of the fire for a readable volume of something. I'm pleasantly surprised to find some modern fiction has made its way onto the shelves. As I choose my book, I wonder if these belong to the room’s inhabitants.
With a copy of Great Expectations balancing the plate of cakes and a goblet of wine in my other hand, I make my way to a chair by the fire. With the food and wine settled on a table within easy reach, I curl up with my book. The red wine is delicious and goes well with the cinnamon cake. I am well into Pip’s tale when the door creaks open.
‘Did you not hear me knock?’ a female voice asks. Euphemia, or Effie to her friends, is a slightly older, curvier, miniature version of Eleanora. She has the same startling green eyes and black-brown hair, but whereas Ellie is statuesque, Effie is petite. She also exudes the warmth of a witch with their power based firmly in the earth.
She is wearing an off-the-shoulder, full-length evening dress complete with crinoline undergarments that would not have been out of place in the late 19th century. This is not surprising, as the Unseelie Court never moved with the times—Victoriana has been the fashion here for as long as I can remember.
I struggle to uncurl my legs, my muscles complaining at being asked to move.
‘Percival, please, do not get up. It is so good to see you, my old friend—I mean to see you, and not you the cat.’
Effie’s smile is warm and welcoming, but there is a shade of sadness there as she mentions my usual form. She perches herself on the edge of the chair opposite, arranges her skirts, and pours herself a goblet of wine.
‘You could have changed into something more comfortable,’ I tell her. ‘I would have waited.’
She smiles as she takes a sip. ‘I am used to this,’ she says, sweeping her hand above her dress. ‘Besides, I am only here for a minute or two. I am sure you are tired. We can have a proper catch up tomorrow.’
‘I am afraid we may not have time for that. Our mission is time critical, and we do not have long to achieve it—only seven days, in fact. So, if you have time now, I would like to find out what is going on with the court.’ I place my book on the table. Untangling my legs from under me, I sit properly on the chair.
‘Seven days?’ She raises an eyebrow in the same way Eleanora does, and I want to smile, but the bitterness of my next sentence stops me short.
‘I am here with two others at the request of Queen Ariana and the dragons. The Dragon Queen has granted me a stay of punishment for seven days to allow me to complete my task.’
‘Oh, Percival,’ Effie says, covering her mouth with the hand not holding the goblet. ‘How we all have failed you over the years.’
I shake my head, not wanting to dwell on this particular aspect of our mission. ‘We haven't time for this now.’
She drops her head a fraction, accepting my words. ‘Are you able to tell me why you are here? Rumour has it you have two very interesting companions.’
‘I am sure I can tell you a little. My role is more that of an assistant to my companions, Snake of the Fieth Clan and… well… Princess Priscilla.’
Effie’s eyes widen as she recognises the name, and she leans forward in excitement. ‘Well, this is a turn up for the books. You really must tell how this came about.’
Sitting by a warm fire, a drink in hand, I want to unburden myself, to tell my old friend everything, just like I would have in the old days. However, I am conscious that not all of this is my story to tell.
‘While I want to tell you everything, Effie, Princess Priscilla is the emissary on this mission, and we have not yet spoken with the King….’
Effie studies me for a moment before asking rather shrewdly, ‘So I take it Cecily and Malachi still insist on keeping Priscilla in the dark about our world?’
I nod.
‘All right. I will wait and find out what is going on with everyone else tomorrow. So, how can I help you now?’
‘Thank you for understanding,’ I say, then take a gulp of wine. I require fortification before approaching what has been worrying me since I entered the building. ‘Effie, what is going on here? I mean, the Unseelie Court is subdued. We are aware there is an issue with magic, but that cannot be the only reason why a court once so flamboyant and full to bursting with creatures is now virtually a ghost town.’
‘Ah, so you noticed?’ she chuckles. ‘Then again, how could you not?’
‘So this is not only about reducing the size of the court because of the lack of magic?’ I prompt.
She twirls the goblet between her fingers. Why is she so reluctant to answer me?
‘Effie?’
‘There have been attacks on members of the Unseelie Court,’ she says, tears welling in her eyes.
I wait for her to continue, but she says nothing. ‘Members of the Unseelie Court have always been prone to attacks,’ I say, hoping she will elaborate.
She shakes her head. ‘These attacks are different. This is not just a small group of crazies having a go at those who are different. These are co-ordinated, targeted attacks aimed to kill or, at the very least, maim creatures.
‘Here we are. This is the suite of rooms you will be sharing.’ Susan looks at Percival and me as she reaches for the handle, avoiding answering Pris altogether.
The doors swing open, revealing a sitting room with two chairs and a sofa arranged around a fire. By the window sits a table with four chairs. Four doors break up the walls on either side of the room—two on the right and two on the left.
‘The guest bedrooms are through the doors on the left,’ Susan informs us. ‘There is a shared bathroom between. Thank goodness the new King arranged to have the plumbing modernised so you can have a bath without someone having to haul water up for you.’
‘I was kinda hoping for a shower,’ I say, too tired to hide my disappointment.
Susan laughs. ‘We are getting there, but we’re not that modern yet. I see you arrived without a change of clothes. I’m sure the Royal Wardrobe will have something for you. I will arrange for clothes to be brought up while you bathe.’
‘Two guest rooms?’ Pris raises an eyebrow. ‘Where will Percival be? We would like him to be accommodated with us.’
‘I’m sorry, Princess, I haven’t been quite clear. Snake Fieth and Percival of the Wyld Woods have been invited to stay here by the suite’s occupants. You are to stay in the royal quarters.’
Pris drops my hand and glares at Susan. This isn’t going to be pretty.
‘I want to stay here with the others.’
Susan is clearly used to dealing with Pris in her demanding mode. ‘I’m afraid that is not only not possible, but it's inappropriate.’
‘So what do I have to do to make it possible and “appropriate”?’ Pris air quotes appropriate, underlining the sarcasm dripping from her words.
‘When the King heard who was in your party, he arranged where you were to stay himself. I am unable to go against his wishes, Pris, no matter how much it annoys you.’
Annoyed is a bit of an understatement. Anger is rolling off Pris in waves.
‘So, let’s go talk with him and arrange something more suitable.’
Susan sends Pris a hard stare. ‘This is the Unseelie Court, Priscilla, and you do not go barging in and demanding the King cater your every whim—especially not when you are dressed like a navvy.’
The door swings open as if to punctuate Susan’s words, and a guard’s head appears. ‘Do we have a problem here, Lady Susan?’
Susan doesn’t respond, as she and Pris are locked in a battle of wills.
I take Pris’s hand. ‘Pris, it’s only for tonight. We shouldn’t make waves before we’ve even met the King.’ I lean in closer and whisper, ‘Besides, we have waited this long to spend time alone together. We can wait a little longer.’
A smile curls the corner of her lips. ‘Or I could just sneak back here later,’ she whispers, her breath tickling my ear.
I lean my forehead against hers for a moment, simply enjoying her being close, then pull away.
‘Percival, look after Snake and see he doesn’t cause any mischief,’ Pris says, brushing past the guard as she leaves the room.
Susan barks out a laugh. ‘I don’t think Snake’s the one we should be worrying about.’
The door closes, and I almost collapse on the floor. Percival eyes me critically, and his nose wrinkles in distaste.
‘You take the first bath. I wouldn’t want to upset our hosts with your odour if they arrive before we are clean.’
‘I’ll try not to be offended by that,’ I tell him, but without malice. If I’m honest, I’m so relieved to be bathing, it's all I can think about.
I head for the closest guest bedroom and make my way to the adjoining bathroom before Percival changes his mind. Compared to the public areas of the castle, it's relatively modern with blindingly white subway tiles and an enormous claw-footed bath. I turn the taps, and the water runs hot, steam gently filling the room. I groan as my muscles tremble in anticipation.
Quickly stripping out of my dirty clothes, I leave them in a pile behind the door. Finally, I slip into the water, emerging myself fully before leaning back and half lying down, allowing the glorious heat to soothe my body and soul. I've a lot to think about, and maybe even a lot to plan for, but I clear my mind and sink beneath the surface again, blocking everything out.
The last time I visited the Unseelie Court with Eleanora, the hallways were packed with courtiers and their hangers-on. To arrive and find everything so quiet is strange and quite unsettling. Given my experiences on the way here, I do not need anything else to throw me off balance.
When we walk through the portal, not a single sound emanates from the staterooms, where no doubt everyone is eating. No music, no laughter, and no sounds of fun being had? I will admit, I was a cat last time I was here, and so my hearing was a little more acute, but this is still way too quiet.
I wander over to the fire, and I add another log before taking a seat in the chair closest to the blaze. What was I thinking? I should have asked to speak with Eleanora’s sister, Euphemia. She is the witch responsible for creature care in the north of the World Above.
She always has her finger on the pulse. Effie would be able to fill me in with what is going on, because, make no mistake, there is something other than the failure of magic turning the court into a shadow of its former self.
Agitated by my thoughts, I wander over to the window. Leaning my forehead against the lower pane, I watch the activity in the streets of Inverness below. It is early evening, and the humans are heading for their homes, or perhaps they are leaving for an evening out. The scene is so normal, it only serves to accentuate the uncanny atmosphere in here.
The Unseelie Court uses the windows of Inverness Castle to view the outside world, but the glass shimmers if you look closely. That slight distortion tells me the court’s wards are operational, keeping us all just out of time and space. The wards are still working, which is a relief, so it must be something else. A light tap sounds at the door, and I pull myself away from the view.
‘Come in.’
Moments later a female servant—a brownie, judging from her slight form—enters dressed in a floor-length black dress and white apron. She bobs a curtsey before carrying a covered tray over to the table. I barely have time to say thank you before she backs out of the room.
The scent of spices sets my mouth watering. I lean over the trays and lift a cover. Haggis and mashed potatoes—excellent. On another plate, the bread is still warm enough for the butter to be melting through. Lovely.
Another knock on the door has me dropping the cover back on the dish.
‘Come in,’ I say again.
A new servant enters with clothes draped over her arm.
‘Where do you want these, sir?’ she asks.
‘The smaller set in the farthest guest room and the larger in the other.’
She silently distributes the clothes and leaves without making another sound, and I am once again alone. I debate whether to start eating without Snake. After all, I do not want the food to get cold. Good manners win out over abject hunger, but I will not wait forever.
I knock on the door to Snake’s room and say loudly, ‘Food has arrived. I give you five minutes to dress before I start eating.’
My stomach rumbles, and I must admit, I am sorely tempted to start without my friend. I also want a distraction to keep my mind off the feelings of inadequacy and shame transforming into a cat stirred up. The whole experience shook my resolve to help Snake and Pris, reminding me of how out of practice I am at taking action.
To fill the time, I open the door to our suite and step into the corridor. A guard is beside me before I can leave the shadow of the doorway.
‘Can I help you with something, sir?’ he asks. His tone is polite, but I am under no illusion—he will not let me take another step further.
‘Yes. If you could, would you please send a message to Lady Euphemia? Let her know that Percival would like to speak with her as soon as she is free.’
‘I am sure I can arrange that. Now, if you would please step back inside.’ He pushes the door open behind me.
For some reason, even though he is being polite, his gesture irritates me more than his words. ‘And would it also be possible to have some tea and cakes sent up?’
He presses his lips together at my request, the only sign my treating him as a servant has annoyed him. ‘Of course, sir,’ he replies, his tone somewhat less polite than before.
‘Thank you.’ I smile smugly and return to the room. The guard shuts the door firmly behind me.
Snake is standing by the fire, wrapped only in a towel. ‘Have you eaten all the food, or did you leave some for me?’ he asks.
‘I have not even started, and I am sure I can wait until you get dressed.’
‘Dressed?’ he asks. ’In what?’
I draw in a breath and call on what little reserves of patience I have. In some ways my travelling companions are so capable, but every now and again, I find myself behaving like their parent.
‘A maid brought clothes up. They should be in your room.’
He stares at me as if I am mad.
‘I walked through there and didn’t see anything.’ He glances over at the food as if he is expecting me to say that we should eat and he can dress later.
Instead I open the door to his bedroom and point at the clothes laid out on the bed. ‘Those clothes? Yes, I can see how you would miss them.’
Snake mutters something under his breath as he holds up the shirt. He slumps on the bed. 'You may want to start dinner. It might take me a while to get into these.’
‘I know they look too small, but this is a magical court, after all.’
He stares blankly back at me, clearly not his usual self.
‘Take your time,’ I tell him. ‘I will have my bath and will heat up the food for us when I am done.’
He nods, and I slip into the bathroom. While the bath fills, I reach through the portal in the pocket of my trousers to find my own suit of clothes from my room at Eleanora’s.
I bathe quickly and then find myself having to wait for Snake. To fill the time, I wander around the living room, trying to work out whose rooms we are occupying. I do not find much in the way of ornamentation except for a couple of books on creature history beside one of the chairs, so I am guessing the inhabitants are most likely male, or perhaps they, like us, are only here temporarily.
From my previous visits to court, I know we are in the royal followers wing of the castle. Eleanora and I generally stay with Euphemia, so I have spent little time here. The witch is a great friend of Princess Petunia, the sister of Queen Ariana, and her rooms are in the royal wing, close to the princess's.
The best I can do is hope that we have been placed with friends rather than foes and that they will be prepared to help us convince the King to join us in the World Below.
If we can do that before I turn back into a cat, all the better.
CHAPTER 4
Family Reunions
Snake picks at the food on his plate, eats a forkful of mashed potato, then raises his eyes, his fork hovering over the haggis. ‘What’s this?’
‘It’s oats, and spices, and meat.’ What I don’t tell him is that the meat is mostly offal. I mean, the boy needs to eat, and I see no reason to put him off his food.
He takes a mouthful, chews thoughtfully, then smiles. He follows it with another. I stop watching after those initial mouthfuls because the way he is shovelling food into his mouth will surely quell even the most ravenous appetite. Taking a sip of water, I am surprised to find it's spring water. It refreshes me and is almost as good as a glass of wine—almost.
Before he has even cleared his plate, Snake’s head is drooping.
‘You should get some rest.’
He jolts awake. ‘I thought Pris might come back,’ he tells me as his face flushes red. ‘For some planning,’ he adds.
‘Of course,’ I agree, but I am not fooled. ‘I will be awake a while longer. I can wake you when she arrives.’
‘If you think—‘
‘Go. You are no good to anyone like this.’
He stands and reaches up in a stretch before tidying his plate and mug onto the serving platter. As he does so, there is another knock at the door, and Snake is suddenly alert.
‘Come in.’ I watch the door expectantly.
Snake smiles hopefully as the door slowly pushes open, and a servant enters with a plate of small cakes and a carafe of wine. No tea though, but I am sure the wine will do very nicely. A crestfallen Snake grabs a couple of cakes from the plate before disappearing into his bedroom.
‘The Lady Euphemia sends her regards and says she will join you soon. She also suggested wine would be better for your conversation this night instead of tea.’
‘She might well be right,’ I say dryly, but the servant has already left the room.
I finish eating my meal and tidy the dishes before scanning the bookshelves on either side of the fire for a readable volume of something. I'm pleasantly surprised to find some modern fiction has made its way onto the shelves. As I choose my book, I wonder if these belong to the room’s inhabitants.
With a copy of Great Expectations balancing the plate of cakes and a goblet of wine in my other hand, I make my way to a chair by the fire. With the food and wine settled on a table within easy reach, I curl up with my book. The red wine is delicious and goes well with the cinnamon cake. I am well into Pip’s tale when the door creaks open.
‘Did you not hear me knock?’ a female voice asks. Euphemia, or Effie to her friends, is a slightly older, curvier, miniature version of Eleanora. She has the same startling green eyes and black-brown hair, but whereas Ellie is statuesque, Effie is petite. She also exudes the warmth of a witch with their power based firmly in the earth.
She is wearing an off-the-shoulder, full-length evening dress complete with crinoline undergarments that would not have been out of place in the late 19th century. This is not surprising, as the Unseelie Court never moved with the times—Victoriana has been the fashion here for as long as I can remember.
I struggle to uncurl my legs, my muscles complaining at being asked to move.
‘Percival, please, do not get up. It is so good to see you, my old friend—I mean to see you, and not you the cat.’
Effie’s smile is warm and welcoming, but there is a shade of sadness there as she mentions my usual form. She perches herself on the edge of the chair opposite, arranges her skirts, and pours herself a goblet of wine.
‘You could have changed into something more comfortable,’ I tell her. ‘I would have waited.’
She smiles as she takes a sip. ‘I am used to this,’ she says, sweeping her hand above her dress. ‘Besides, I am only here for a minute or two. I am sure you are tired. We can have a proper catch up tomorrow.’
‘I am afraid we may not have time for that. Our mission is time critical, and we do not have long to achieve it—only seven days, in fact. So, if you have time now, I would like to find out what is going on with the court.’ I place my book on the table. Untangling my legs from under me, I sit properly on the chair.
‘Seven days?’ She raises an eyebrow in the same way Eleanora does, and I want to smile, but the bitterness of my next sentence stops me short.
‘I am here with two others at the request of Queen Ariana and the dragons. The Dragon Queen has granted me a stay of punishment for seven days to allow me to complete my task.’
‘Oh, Percival,’ Effie says, covering her mouth with the hand not holding the goblet. ‘How we all have failed you over the years.’
I shake my head, not wanting to dwell on this particular aspect of our mission. ‘We haven't time for this now.’
She drops her head a fraction, accepting my words. ‘Are you able to tell me why you are here? Rumour has it you have two very interesting companions.’
‘I am sure I can tell you a little. My role is more that of an assistant to my companions, Snake of the Fieth Clan and… well… Princess Priscilla.’
Effie’s eyes widen as she recognises the name, and she leans forward in excitement. ‘Well, this is a turn up for the books. You really must tell how this came about.’
Sitting by a warm fire, a drink in hand, I want to unburden myself, to tell my old friend everything, just like I would have in the old days. However, I am conscious that not all of this is my story to tell.
‘While I want to tell you everything, Effie, Princess Priscilla is the emissary on this mission, and we have not yet spoken with the King….’
Effie studies me for a moment before asking rather shrewdly, ‘So I take it Cecily and Malachi still insist on keeping Priscilla in the dark about our world?’
I nod.
‘All right. I will wait and find out what is going on with everyone else tomorrow. So, how can I help you now?’
‘Thank you for understanding,’ I say, then take a gulp of wine. I require fortification before approaching what has been worrying me since I entered the building. ‘Effie, what is going on here? I mean, the Unseelie Court is subdued. We are aware there is an issue with magic, but that cannot be the only reason why a court once so flamboyant and full to bursting with creatures is now virtually a ghost town.’
‘Ah, so you noticed?’ she chuckles. ‘Then again, how could you not?’
‘So this is not only about reducing the size of the court because of the lack of magic?’ I prompt.
She twirls the goblet between her fingers. Why is she so reluctant to answer me?
‘Effie?’
‘There have been attacks on members of the Unseelie Court,’ she says, tears welling in her eyes.
I wait for her to continue, but she says nothing. ‘Members of the Unseelie Court have always been prone to attacks,’ I say, hoping she will elaborate.
She shakes her head. ‘These attacks are different. This is not just a small group of crazies having a go at those who are different. These are co-ordinated, targeted attacks aimed to kill or, at the very least, maim creatures.
