Sacrifice: The First Book of the Fey (102 page)

His father’s eyes narrowed. Water beaded on his face, making him look older. “You have no right, Nicky—“

“I have every right,” Nicholas said. “They need this alliance more than we do at the moment. But when they killed the Rocaan, they almost destroyed the Tabernacle. Matthias doesn’t have the strength to lead the Rocaanists. He can’t give them the moral direction that the Rocaan did, and he can’t make enough holy water for a war on his own. I’ve talked with him. Have you?”

His father crossed his arms. “A bit.”

“Then you understand his dilemma. If he gives someone else the secret to holy water, they can overthrow him as Rocaan. The last thing we need in the middle of this crisis is a political crisis in the Tabernacle.”

“It’s not as bad as all that,” Lord Stowe said. His cheeks were ruddy with the cold, his blue eyes pale as the sky. He actually seemed to believe what he said.

Couldn’t he see that the loss of the Rocaan was the loss of the spiritual heart of Blue Isle? For all of his father’s complaining about Nicholas’s lack of religious training, it seemed Nicholas was the only one who understood that the death of the Rocaan was the beginning of a crisis, unless someone acted. His father had got even more indecisive since the Rocaan’s death. The news of it had paralyzed him for days.

Nicholas brushed his forehead with the back of his hand. On the other side of the rocks, the sea boomed. “It’s worse than you both think. Forgive me, Father, for speaking plainly, but you missed another opportunity when the Rocaan died. Instead of letting everything in the Tabernacle fall into disarray, you should have gathered an army and attacked the Shadowlands. Everyone would have backed you. We might have been able to get rid of the Fey.”

“We can still do that,” his father said.

Nicholas shook his head. Cool water dripped down his cheeks and onto his shoulder. “No, Father. You had a window of maybe a day where the Fey were in as bad a condition as we were. After that, they expected it.”

“I thought Scavenger—”

“You put faith in one of their people,” Nicholas said, still unable to believe in his father’s trust.

“You would do the same,” Lord Stowe said.

Nicholas ignored him. “Have we heard from Scavenger? Do we know that he actually left Jahn? No. We are not skilled at intrigue. Someday we will make a bigger mistake than the Rocaan made. Someday we might lose Blue Isle for good.”

His father glanced over his shoulder. Nicholas had been speaking too loudly. The Fey didn’t seem to notice. They, too, were arguing. Jewel—the name suited her—was speaking with force, using her hands to punctuate her thoughts.

“And,” Nicholas said, “Jewel brought another point we rarely talk about. The Black King.”

“I thought about the Black King,” his father said. “That’s why I haven’t allowed the Fey to leave, why we no longer have any trade at all.”

“But you did not think beyond that,” Nicholas said. “She’s right. If we destroy them, we are asking for a greater retaliation somewhere in the future. It may not happen on your watch, Father, but it will happen on mine.”

“So we prepare for it,” Lord Stowe said. “Holy water, and lots of it. Guards here at the mouth of the Cardidas.”

“And what if they find a way around holy water? What if they bring other kinds of Fey with them, kinds the young Fey did not describe to you? How do you know that your friend Scavenger told the truth about any of the others? You don’t. We have nothing now. We were better off before the Rocaan died.” Nicholas was almost shouting again. He took a deep breath.

“You want to do this,” Lord Stowe said. “You want to bed the girl. Your Highness, tell the boy such lusts pass.”

Nicholas flushed. He couldn’t deny his lust for her. They probably saw it in each of his glances. Since the negotiations started, his dreams had been intense, and she had been in all of them, naked and beguiling.

His father was studying him. “You believe in this, don’t you, Nicky?”

Nicholas nodded. “I think this will work.”

“The Fey, Scavenger, told me that the Fey won’t keep their agreements.”

“Obviously, since he didn’t,” Nicholas said. “But how can they go back on this one, without sacrificing the Black King’s granddaughter?”

“They’re ruthless, Nicky,” his father said softly. “They might be willing to sacrifice her for their own good.”

Nicholas swallowed. That made no sense to him. “But it’s her idea.”

“It
appears
to be her idea,” his father said.

Nicholas hadn’t considered that. He glanced over to the table. Jewel was pounding on the table. She looked strong enough to defend herself. She couldn’t be anyone’s pawn. No one would dare treat her that way.

“What if we don’t take her up on this, and she’s right?” Nicholas asked. “How many other creatures do they have? Can they kill Matthias too? Or you?”

“And what if this is a ploy to get closer to us?” Lord Stowe asked.

“Then they could have done something here, like they did with that meeting with the Rocaan.” Nicholas shook his head. “This offer is on the level. It will help all of us.”

“It won’t return things to the way they were,” Lord Stowe said. He leaned against the rock, his face half-shrouded in mist.

“Our lives changed forever the moment the Fey passed through the Stone Guardians,” Nicholas said. “No matter what we do, we can never go back. We have to figure out a way to live with the changes. A way that will benefit all of us.”

“If you wed this woman,” his father said, “it will be something else that we can’t turn away from.”

“I understand that,” Nicholas said. “I think it’s time we take a risk. I am willing to.”

“She might kill you the moment she’s alone with you,” Lord Stowe said.

Nicholas didn’t want to think about the magicks that she might have in store for him. He hoped she wouldn’t trick him that way, but he would have to come up with a way to protect himself. Asking for children, as he had done, might be enough. “I think she’ll work with us,” Nicholas said.

“Perhaps we can wed her to someone else,” his father said.

Nicholas shook his head. He didn’t want anyone else to touch her. “She’s the Black King’s granddaughter. Someday she could rule the Fey. To offer her anyone less than you or me would insult her, Father. Do you want to marry her?”

His father started. He apparently hadn’t considered it. The look of revulsion on his face was answer enough.

“We insist that she stay in the palace,” Nicholas said. “Then she is taking an equal risk. I could just as easily kill her the moment we are alone as she could kill me.”

His father sighed. The sound was shaky. “If this doesn’t work, we will lose Blue Isle.”

“If we don’t try something, we will lose Blue Isle anyway,” Nicholas said. “The question is whether we will take a chance to save her.”

His father took Nicholas’s hand. His father’s fingers were cold. “You’re my only child, Nicky. If something happens to you—”

“If something happens to me, you appoint a regent in case of your death, and have another child. You’re still a young enough man. It’s possible, maybe even advisable, given the fact that at the moment we’re at war.”

The coldness of Nicholas’s tone surprised even himself. Someone had to make a decision, and this seemed to be the best one. No country had stood against the Fey. Even the ones that had fought for decades eventually fell to Fey ingenuity, Fey magick. If Nicholas played this right, he would capture a bit of Fey magick for himself. He wouldn’t be able to fight the Fey on equal terms, but his children would if they had to. And being half-Fey, they might not need to.

His father was staring at his hands. Lord Stowe was waiting for someone to speak.

“I will marry her,” Nicholas said. “And you will have another child, father. And we will make certain that we negotiate everything we can before the ceremony, and we will cover our backs.”

“Nicky—” his father started.

Nicholas shook his head. “Do you have a better idea?” he asked. “Something that will make the Fey leave us alone forever?”

Lord Stowe was staring at him as if he had never seen Nicholas before.

“Look at a map, gentlemen,” Nicholas said. “To get from Galinas to Leut, you must pass Blue Isle. The Fey, in their attempt to conquer the world, will not sail past Blue Isle. At one point they will try to conquer us again. And at some point they will win. We’ve been lucky, but luck doesn’t hold forever.”

“I don’t like this kind of risk,” his father said.

Which was precisely why they were in this position. Nicholas took a deep breath. Maybe if his father had prepared even as the Fey were attacking the Nye, then Blue Isle would have been safe from Fey aggression. But he hadn’t, and he hadn’t fought well against the Fey, and because of all that, the Fey had a toehold on the Isle, and they killed the Isle’s heart.

“We still have negotiations to do before we can hold any kind of ceremony,” Nicholas said. “Let’s see how much of the risk we can minimize.”

He broke out of the huddle and headed back to the table. The Fey stopped talking among themselves as the Islanders approached. Jewel watched Nicholas, her lips parted. She was as tall as he was, and perhaps even more powerful. But he was just as smart.

Nicholas smiled at her. “What does a Black King’s granddaughter bring to a marriage besides herself?”

Jewel’s answering smile was warm and playful, as flirtatious as a maid in the hall. “Those terms we need to discuss.” She held out her hand and he took it, desire for her suddenly so strong, it was as if he had never felt desire before.

Nicholas would not lose himself over a woman. He would not lose Blue Isle to his own drives. He took his hand from hers and sat between his father and Lord Stowe, directly across from her.

“We have a lot to negotiate before we reach any sort of agreement,” Nicholas said, “including where to hold the ceremony.”

Jewel’s glance was measuring. “I’m sure,” she said softly, “we’ll have no trouble reaching a compromise.”

THE SACRIFICE

(Two Months Later)

EIGHTY-NINE

Jewel wore green, the color of joy, which Rugar found to be an abomination. The gown had wide skirts in the L’Nacin tradition, a narrow bodice that revealed a lot of breast. For the first time Jewel looked not like his soldier daughter, but like a woman.

Rugar braced himself at Jewel’s side, his sea legs not with him yet. The Islander’s new Rocaan—a man as tall as the Fey but with the face of a child—had insisted on holding the wedding ceremony over water since he could not use their holy poison in the joining. Jewel’s hair was down, a flowing black mass that draped to her knees.

Rugar wore his war clothes: his black leather and tunic. He had thought of ordering the Weather Sprites to make certain that it rained, but he decided it would gain nothing, only make him seem more petty than he was. Still, the war clothes kept him alert. He had to pay attention to every detail. He had tried to convince Jewel that some Visions couldn’t be controlled, but she wouldn’t listen to him. She believed if she was in charge of this ceremony, her Vision would not come true.