Street Fair (27 page)

As several trolls passed on the way to checking the shrouds, Megan heard a particular rich voice as well. She turned to see her father sporting a new necklace of dragon's-teeth.

“Everything's okay?” she asked.

“Of course everything's okay, dearest. You're fantastic, and we don't seem to have a Sorcerer-King on our hands.” Riocard looked to O'Neill, who seemed to have caught enough breath, even after all his screaming, to try to hoarsely mutter some of the chants he'd done before. Nothing was happening. “Those powers were contingent on being king. There's a reason kings in the old stories lead from the front with their strong sword arms. The ancient rules don't look kindly on people without sword arms. So sorry.” Riocard then looked to Inwar. “So it seems he's still alive.”

“Easily remedied,” Inwar said.

O'Neill didn't look panicked, actually giving Inwar a defiant look, at odds with the earlier screaming. He pushed his way with his good arm to sitting, and then stood, puffing his chest out and waiting for the death blow.

“Please don't,” Megan said. “Getting killed at the end of a battle... that's something that happens to kings right? Not to disqualified losers.”

The general actually smiled. “A reasonable point, Highness.” The smile lapsed again. “Brian Angus O'Neill, for war crimes, for conspiracy with the enemy against the well-being of all realms—”

“Yes, yes, General, war crimes, I know,” Riocard said. “Orlaith is understandably shocked by those, because dying isn't really a thing we do much around here. But it's still something that can happen in wars. I've started a few. And deals with ancient, undeniably evil beings? Not that unusual a by-product of grasping for great sorcerous power. Reaching for the glories of long dead ancestors... you know, O'Neill, I can respect that.”

Riocard paused, tilting his head, looking thoughtful. "But I also know what you did in... what was it, graduate school? You pinned my scout to a butterfly board and broke her wings to steal her power. You denied one of my people her freedom... and that, I can never forgive. And so I pass judgment.”

“Subject to Her Majesty's approval,” Inwar interjected.

Riocard glared. “Yes, yes, I know what month it is, General. And she'll approve the living daylights out of this.” He looked back to O'Neill. “I pass judgment. But what punishment? Oh what hells could I devise for you?"

Another pause, and a warm smile. "Several dozen, actually. But you're human, and American. I think there's a jury of peers thing, or similar nonsense. To save time, having already pronounced you guilty, I'm going to broadly paraphrase one of your fellow American mortals, then... thank you for sharing, by the way, Ashling...“

Riocard pressed his fingertips to O'Neill's temple.
“With this touch, I give you this, Brian Angus O'Neill: every night, you shall dream of the glories of Faerie. You shall remember its peaks and valleys, its colors, its mystery. You shall recall, in vivid detail, the worlds, the realities beyond your own. You shall think in crowns and feasts and subjects and hunts for the white stag. It shall ever be in front of you...”

Yet another pause. “And you will never, ever find your way back. The paths shall fade, the memory of how to actually reach the realm shall always be just beyond your fingertips. As shall the names and faces of those who defeated you. So close, and yet...”

The Unseelie King gestured with flair. “I give you what all destroyers earn... nothing."

Riocard gave one more pause before he continued pleasantly. "Otherwise, you should heal up just fine, Dr. O'Neill. Oh, I'm sorry, all sales are final, aren't they? Mister O'Neill.”

Chapter 39: Post-Carnage Brunch

Megan blinked awake, when rolling over or pulling blankets over her head would no longer shield her from the bright, golden sunlight streaming in through the windows. Even the attempts at careful placement of windows in the Unseelie wing of An Teach Deiridh did only so much to defy the light of Faerie at high Summer.

It took a few more moments to assure herself she wasn't dreaming, looking out over her room. Counting the meeting room, with its own table, couches and chairs, and several bookshelves, the suite her father had arranged for her was half the size of her house back in Seattle. King size didn't begin to describe the canopy bed, either. Lani had also slept in the bed—still was sleeping, in fact—and wasn't even in arm's reach. Jude had started the night curled up at the foot of the bed, some five feet away from Megan's feet, but had migrated over the course of the night to nestle against Lani for warmth. Ashling had her own satin pillow just over arm's length away on Megan's other side, while the Count had opted to rest atop the bust of Pallas set on a shelf near the door.

Aside from the massive canopy bed, empty bookshelves, a wardrobe, and a dresser with a mirror, the room was mostly bare and undecorated. Mostly.

Megan's first purchase from the market was mounted on the wall nearest the foot of the bed. She'd fallen asleep watching whirling leaves and swirling butterflies and rather liked the idea of waking to it regularly. Despite the difficulties caused by spending the card early, she was having trouble regretting the purchase now.

As Megan stirred, Jude did as well, stretching and yawning. That movement, in turn, woke Lani, who grumbled, and tried to push the cat away. She had no luck and ended up finally giving in and sitting up. Megan didn't think that Lani's eventually scritching Jude's chest was going to discourage future cat-snuggling. "Morning," she mumbled towards Lani.

"Ow," Lani responded.

"You should get dressed," Ashling said. "There's a big breakfast being made for you guys."

"Br'k'fs?" Lani mumbled, still shaking off sleep.

"Shhhh," Ashling cautioned. "Don't say the 'K' word until you have pants on."

"Brownies, timing," Megan agreed, doing her best to move quickly despite lingering bruises and burns. As much as she'd have loved to have lounged around and not tested aching muscles, she was starving. They found spare clothes roughly in their sizes left in the dresser for them and headed into the receiving room before Megan finally said it.

“I hope Kerr will be able to join us for breakfast.”

A few seconds later, there was a knock on the door.

Kerr didn't arrive alone, the breakfast feast requiring five brownies to transport everything, but Kerr was still happy to join them to help try and make a dent in all the food.

"So, I got to be part of the group who checked in on him,” Ashling said. “You should have seen the look on O'Neill's face when he found them cleaning out an 'abandoned' office, seeing as how no one had ever heard of a Professor O'Neill."

Megan smiled, pushing a tray of honeyed fruit towards the pixie. "Professor who?"

"Shhhh," Ashling said. "I hear the BBC is looking for spin-off ideas. I'd hate to feed his ego like that."

The door opened again, this time with no knock, as Cassia entered, with Maxwell following. "Hey girls, hey traitor!" Cassia greeted them, scritching Jude cheerfully condemning his choice of sleeping arrangements. She dug into a couple of the meat options on the table with her bare hands, tossing the cats a share of breakfast, before making herself comfortable. "Nice job in there," she finally added.

"It was! You should have seen it!" Ashling said, "Especially the part where Megan charged on her Griffon. That was almost as cool as when Lani fired all three of her personal catapults."

Megan sighed. "Ashling, you weren't even there. And I don't have a griffon."

Ashling gestured accusingly at the Count. "You lied to me! How am I supposed to write down the official account of the battle for the war records if I can't trust you?"

"Caw, caw."

"Oh, well, all right then. Charged in on her unicorn!"

Megan was about to respond, then couldn't help but think of the four steeds drawing Orlaith's chariot, and decided that she could manage to wait for the official pixie account before passing judgment on the story.

Justin, now sporting a more elaborate arm brace and sling, and her father arrived not long after. Riocard had a book tucked partially under his arm. The archaic cover caught Megan's eye:
Mr. William Shakespeares Comedies, Histories, & Tragedies.
A place was marked in the book with what looked suspiciously like an academic certificate.

“Sorry to be late bringing your young man,” her father said, apparently amused by the ensuing furious blushing from both Megan and Justin. “But I was catching up on some reading. Someone else's Midsummer nights.”

“Where Robin Goodfellow is actually good for something?” Cassia managed to speak between bites.

“Now, now. Robin, as I understand it, dropped some very interesting hints. That counts as good for something, from a certain point of view. But best we all get fed now.”

Thankfully, there was no shortage of breakfast, even at the rate Cassia was eating. Justin looked like he was about to say something to Megan a few times, but each time, decided it could wait.

Riocard waited until he'd properly settled in and filled his plate, then turned to Megan. "How did you enjoy your first night in your new room? Do you need anything else for it?"

"Well, I like it, but I'm not really moving in, you understand," Megan said. "Not full time. Mom's getting better. She's really... I don't want to miss out on that.”

“Of course not, dearest. But there may be many different benefits to your mother's being able to enjoy herself again. At any rate, I don't think it need interfere with an occasional visit, and you'll want a place to keep those things that just wouldn't suit well under her roof.”

“Good point.” It was, but for the first time Megan could remember, she was feeling homesick. Last year, she'd pondered staying in Faerie, and never going back. It hadn't lasted long, but she'd had the thoughts a few times since. Now, real death and war had come to Faerie, while Megan couldn't wait to get to know the woman her mother was supposed to have been. She didn't doubt that she'd want to come back here soon, but despite the bed, and the feast, and the rest, she really wanted to go turn the radio on and make pancakes. As she looked towards Justin, she also found herself hoping pizza might happen soon.

The rest of breakfast went well, but by the time their magically repaired and cleaned clothing arrived, Megan was ready to head for the portal. Cassia and Ashling remained behind.

“We've got to get ready and go to a … thing.” Ashling.

“Funerals,” Cassia said more bluntly. “We're going to funerals. We've all got to remember how to
do
funerals. It's been a while. But you three should go home.”

At the mention of funerals, Megan noticed, Kerr stopped eating. The brownie didn't say a word, or anything so obvious, but it spoke volumes. The last time there had been a fight, it was followed by a giant party and a lot of "No hard feelings." Her father’d also mentioned that grief wasn’t his style. Megan wondered what Faerie grief was like, when it was in season, and she took Cassia's words for a warning.

Fremont still showed signs of the recent fair, with clean up in full swing. After all of the spectacle, and the quick shifts between realms, everything continued to feel a little unreal to Megan until they'd piled into
Space Ship!
and left Fremont behind.

Chapter 40: Someplace Like Home

"Hey, can you guys wait here for a second?" Megan asked, as Lani stopped in front of her house to drop her off.

"Sure, what do you need?" Lani said.

"Just... wait here a second. I'll be right back, as soon as I figure out if I can go through with this or not." She darted up the walk and headed into the house. She took a few minutes catching her breath, and working her nerve up, before calling, "Mom, can you come here for a minute?"

“What is it, sweetie?” As her mother approached, her face became more and more familiar, because she was getting worried. “Everything okay at Lani's?”

“Yeah. Oh, yeah,” Megan said, desperate to get that new relaxed look back. “We had a great couple of days. I was just wanting to... maybe take the opportunity to introduce you more properly to Justin because they're in the driveway and … and heandIarethinkingaboutmaybegoingout.”

Sheila blinked. “Oh. Okay. Well...there'll be a lot to talk about, with that sort of thing. I guess we've never really needed to have that level of Talk before.”

“Yeah. I understand. That later, maybe, and handshakes now?”

Her mother smiled. “Handshakes now sounds fine, Megan.”

After both teens had hesitated after the kiss, Megan wasn't sure how Justin would handle this moment. For that matter, she wasn't sure how her mother would handle it, but it was suddenly very important to get the introduction of her maybe-boyfriend over with. To her relief, Justin handled it with perfect grace, certainly far better than Megan had handled racing over the introduction of the idea.

"A pleasure to meet you, Ma'am," he offered, stepping out of the car.

“I don't think, in all these months, I've ever heard your last name, Justin,” her mother said with an awkward smile.