over her kingdom was.
As they were alone, she let him take her into his arms. Closing her eyes, she remembered a time not so long ago, when she had run through the perils of the Darkworld for him. There were moments she wished she could escape to that time again, to not know of the dangers that had laid ahead of them or of the hardships they would endure. To not have the worries of running a kingdom, raising a daughter, being under constant scrutiny…feeling suffocated by duty.
There were times that that escape seemed possible, when they lay together in the dark, limbs twining, skin sliding over skin. Though so much had changed over time, that never had changed, and she was glad for its familiarity.
His mouth moved against her ear as he spoke and he did not speak to her as her advisor or her friend. He spoke to her now as her lover, her life mate, and without judgment in his tone. “If I do not understand your choice in this, I do not doubt you mean only good. Do not grieve the loss of my faith in you, for it is still strong.”
The doors of the throne room scraped open without a warning from the other side. Ayla and Malachi stepped apart quickly, their reaction honed by years of practice.
Though the doors were barely parted, a slender figure slipped into the throne room. Flidais, a member of Ayla’s council, recently charged with the important task of Lightworld defenses, ran down the polished aisle, toward her Queene. She bowed with uncharacteristic agitation before hurriedly asking, “With your Majesty’s permission, might I be granted an audience?”
Ayla had never seen the Faery in such a state. Her yellow hair floated around her head as though it had been invigorated by the run to the throne room and did not wish to settle down. Her antennae buzzed against her forehead and shone startling green.
“Of course, of course,” Ayla said quickly, motioning that she should follow her to the dais. “Shall we call in the Court?”
“No, Majesty, I beg you, not right now.” Flidais’s tone was grave, pleading. “I hope you will understand my caution.”
Ayla could only nod in response. She sat on the throne and beckoned Malachi to stand beside her. “Tell me, what has vexed you so?”
As if suddenly aware of her appearance and manner, Flidais quickly smoothed her hair and visibly tried to calm herself. When she spoke, it was in her usual, measured tones, though it seemed a strain. “There is news. From the Upworld.”
Ayla tensed. For over a hundred years, the Upworld had not interfered with the world below. It would only be a matter of time, she had assumed, before they grew tired of ignoring the pests below them. “What news?”
“There is news,” Flidais took a gulping breath, “that Faeries remain on the surface.”
Ayla took a moment to be cautious, thoughtful. For many years now it had been common knowledge that some Fae lived on the surface, masquerading as Human. If this was Flidais’s news, then it was nothing to cause a stir over. However, Flidais was intelligent enough to know this, and so Ayla asked, “In what capacity do they remain?”
“Free. Living as Fae in small groups.” Thank God she did not say as prisoners. That would have been Ayla’s worst fear, that they would have impetus to go to battle with the Upworld.
“Are they…do they have political motivations?” When the question escaped, she knew how it could be interpreted. That she feared someone would come for her throne, someone with a more valid claim. And that was not what she feared. “They do not wish to overthrow the Human world?”
Flidais shook her head, calming some. “I do not believe so. That is, they have not announced any such intention at this time. They have, however, sent an Ambassador and entourage, in the hopes of making contact with you.”
“An Ambassador?” She wished Cedric were not missing. She needed him, desperately. “Without sending word ahead?”
Flidais considered. “When the Dragons came to us during Mabb’s reign, they sent several of their Human servants uninvited, in the hopes of expediting a meeting.”
“But Dragons…they do not expect to be turned down for an audience,” Malachi said quietly. “I believe this puts Her Majesty in a difficult position. If she does not wish to have contact with this Upworld settlement, she cannot politely refuse contact. They are already here, and already awaiting her reception.”
“I do not believe they mean any malice,” Flidais protested. She had never liked Malachi’s presence at the side of the Queene and considered a Consort’s place to be in the bedchamber only.
“I will need time to think on this,” she pronounced. It would keep the peace between Malachi and the Faery. “Flidais, tell the Ambassador that she—or he—is welcome in the Lightworld, and see that the entire party is provided with appropriate accommodations. But on the subject of a meeting, you must be vague. I have not—and will not—make up my mind on this matter until I have given proper thought to what their sudden appearance might mean, and to what it might mean for all of us to come into contact with the Upworld. Also, I wish this to remain as secret as possible. I want no plotting behind my back on this, which I fear will happen if the Courtiers are informed before I make my decision.”
Flidais bowed and left to do her Queene’s bidding. She would do it well, of that Ayla was certain. Of all her council members, Flidais knew best how to handle a delicate situation, and she would do whatever needed to be done in order to see that her Queene’s wishes were carried out.
As soon as the doors were closed behind her, Ayla rose from the throne and stalked toward the doors that led to her chambers. Malachi followed, as she knew he would. “I need Cedric,” she said, not bothering to couch her command gently. “Bring him to me. I’m sure you know where he’s gone.”
“I do not,” Malachi responded smoothly. The liar. The two of them were thick as thieves most days. “But I will find him.”
“Good.” She stopped, halfway through the little hallway to her chambers, and turned to face him. There was no sense in parting angrily with him, when it was not him she was angry at. “Thank you. I…appreciate that you are willing to do these things for me. And for the Faery Court.”
“I do these things because I love you. I do not care about the Faery Court.” A smile ticked the corners of his mouth, where the ghosts of smiles past lingered. “Shall I come to you tonight?”
The words elicited a spark that flared to full flame in her, and she nodded. She would be grateful for the respite of his arms, his body, his presence after a day that had already, in its infancy, proved trying.
He stepped forward and drew her into his arms, his lips finding the skin between her ear and the high collar of her robe. Her Guild mark was there, indelible black against her skin, covered unintentionally by her hair and her robes, but the part of it he could reach he touched, traced with his tongue, and she shivered.
Just as abruptly as he coaxed the flame to life within her, he doused it by stepping away. “I will find Cedric for you,” he said with another smile, and then turned and left in the direction they had come.
Five
No matter what Ayla accused him of, Malachi did not know where Cedric hid. It was a testimony to how very easily her suspicions gripped her, that she imagined her two closest friends and allies somehow plotting to hide themselves away from her.
Cedric
