Veil of Shadows (18 page)

“He thought he could force our hand and make us appear bound to the new Queene,” Trasa said with a note of annoyance. She waved a hand in the air. “It does not matter. He is shortsighted, if he believed we would not have supported her without his machinations.”

Cerridwen might have defended him, but to hear Cedric.s actions described in such a manner made them seem indefensible.

Before they left the tent, Trasa helped Cerridwen push her feet into jeweled white slippers, and then they joined the rest of the handmaidens in the clearing. They nodded their approval of her appearance as she came down the steps, and clustered around her as she made her way past the fire.

She stopped them. Looking to the guards who followed behind, she ordered, “Stay here. I do not need protection. I do not need your weapons.” She straightened her back and lifted her chin. “This is an entirely different kind of battle.”

The clearing around Danae.s Palace was lit with globes of light that dipped and swooped, controlled by the entertainers who had cast them. The brightness made it seem as though the sun had risen in this section of the forest alone and the huge bonfires that blazed all around seemed dim in comparison. Rows of trestle tables flanked a huge space cleared for a fire and more entertainers. Humans did acrobatic tricks and juggling for the enjoyment of the Faeries, who watched their antics in amusement at the quaintness of it all. One table sat apart from the others, on a dais in front of the Palace steps. Danae presided there on the carved wooden throne, watching over the festivities as though she were the Queene.

She even wore a crown.

Cedric could not help but grin at the pathetic gall of it. She truly believed she would remain Queene here, that her life did not hinge on his control of Cerridwen.s murderous impulses.

Spotting him as he approached, Danae took his smile as a friendly greeting, and she, foul deceiver that she was, returned the expression warmly. “Your Highness,” she said with a nod.

“Please, do not take my position here as a slight against your Queene. I thought it would be a lovely symbol if I were to cede the throne to her upon her arrival.”

“A lovely symbol,” he echoed, as if in agreement. His palms itched for the dagger in his boot. This monster had colluded with the Upworld Elves and sent the Waterhorses to the Underground. His mind clouded with the memory of Gypsy screams he had not heard, blood he had not seen shed. He saw Dika.s face under the surface of the water, and the image did not twist to show him Cerridwen as it had so often lately. The loss washed over him, as keen as the very moment he had first realized it. The very sight of Danae, knowing she had caused his pain, brought it all back.

“Are you all right, Your Highness?” Danae asked, her expression faltering. Her concern would have seemed genuine, if he had not known her to be a disgusting fraud. “You look as though you have seen a specter.”

“The ghosts of worse days,” he said with an mock apologetic smile, wishing he could leap across the dais and pull her throat out with his teeth. “We saw much hardship in our last days underground. All of this light and noise disorients me.”

He sat beside the throne to await Cerridwen.s arrival. “You will cede your throne, but not your power entirely?”

“I wish for the Court that has trusted me to know that I will always be there for them,” Danae said with a kind half smile. “I do not think it fitting to go out of their sight entirely this night.”

“We will see what Her Majesty thinks,” he said, a tone of joviality changing the subject.

“This is quite clever. Reminds me of the Human Courts after the sons of Míl invaded.”

“I would not know.” Danae struggled to warm the frost that crept into her voice. “I was not born yet.”

“Oh, yes, I forgot.” He waved his hand. “I have a very difficult time remembering that not everyone is so ancient as I.”

“Such as your mate, I am sure,” Danae said, eyes fixed on the gathering before her. “I say this with as much respect as can be applied in this situation. You are a fool to have mated yourself to one so young.”

“It was arranged by her mother, the Queene.” Cedric followed the path of a globe of light through the air, idly added his own contribution to it as it passed. “She thought it would be a good match. And it.s proven so.”

“I do not believe you, Cedric.” Danae turned to him, her beautiful face composed into a mask of pity. He wanted to snatch it off her skull. “There is a shroud of misery around you.”

Misery. She would know the cause of it. Everything he had known for the past hundred years had been destroyed on her whim. His friends, his lover, his life—all of it had disappeared the moment Bauchan had stepped into the Underground. He could tell her this. She would see through it. To be so vile, so reprehensible, one had to be shrewd enough to pull their schemes off. She would know that the misery he felt now had to do with the torment he felt every moment that he spent at Cerridwen.s side.

“Much has changed lately. I am…struggling with it.”

Danae placed a hand on his knee. He did not react. She leaned closer. “You deserve your happiness, Cedric.”

“And you should teach your Empath to keep out of my feelings.”

A hush fell over the clearing. Danae looked up, and Cedric brushed her hand aside.

And then he saw her.

Cerridwen strode into the clearing, luminous white like the center of the sun on a clear day. Her black wings separated themselves slowly from the darkness. Her skin glowed, her gown shone. Her hair was pulled away from her face, piled atop her head like a crown and raining fiery ringlets down her shoulders.

The cadre of crows that Cedric had mocked earlier followed behind her, almost obedient. No guards accompanied them; a bold move that Cedric would compliment her for, later. The Humans and Faeries they passed were struck dumb, only remembering to bow when she had gone far by.

The firelight gilded her as she passed. This close, the stark contrast of her black wings to her radiant white dress stood out even further. Cedric stood, bowed, forced his heart to calm its rapid beating. She was a hundred times more regal than Ayla had ever been, a thousand times more than Mabb. She let the maidens lift the train of her gown so that she could ascend the dais, and, with a secret smile that showed only in her eyes, she bowed to Cedric.

“Your Majesty,” Danae said, overloud, so that the attention would turn to her. She stood and bowed. “How glad are we all that you are here with us on this day.”

As though she had barely heard her, Cerridwen slipped between Cedric and Danae, edging her carefully out of the way before seating herself on the throne. “Thank you, Danae, for entertaining Cedric in my absence. And thank you for the gifts you sent me.”

Cedric covered his smile with his hand and motioned to the crowd. “How does Your Majesty receive this feast? Is it to your liking?”

Forgotten, Danae stood, stunned into silence, face taking on the hue of a polluted sunset. She cleared her throat and sat in the chair on the other side of the throne, folding her hands in her lap.

Cerridwen.s gaze slid sideways, and Cedric knew she checked to make sure that Danae was appropriately humbled. “I like it very much. So far.”

For a long while, the crowd seemed content to stare at their new Queene. For her part, Cerridwen appeared as composed and natural as if she had presided over Court functions every day for a thousand years, as though the combined attention of the hundreds gathered in the clearing affected her not at all. But even this new radiance of hers could not hold their attention forever. Soon, the food was brought on great platters, and the festive air returned.

“Your Majesty,” Danae began in a tone of painful civility, “fifty sheep were butchered for this feast, and one hundred geese. We.ve used the last of our stores from the winter in preparing dishes for this welcome supper.”

“That was foolish of you,” Cerridwen said blandly. “I will hold you responsible, personally, for seeing to it that whatever remains in the morning is distributed for use for the rest of the week.”

Cedric smothered a laugh with a gulp of wine. “The food is good, though, Danae.”

In the years underground, even during Palace parties and feasts, there had not been such excesses of food, or such variety. Cedric helped Cerridwen select the best parts of the meat from the platters that were brought before them, and the sweetest berries. She ate daintily, another practiced act; he had never seen her at a meal that she did not practically inhale. It might have been the wine, but the grim feelings of the day seemed to lessen. He found himself quite pleased at the ease with which they had managed to insinuate themselves into the new Court.

After the platters had been cleared away, and after a short, but drearily boring masque performed for the benefit of the new Queene, a group of musicians, Faery and Human alike, started up a lively brawl, and circles of dancers formed around the clearing.

“I have not danced in so long.” The longing in Cerridwen.s voice squeezed Cedric.s heart. He.d nearly offered her his hand when he remembered the work that still remained to be done.

“Go, then, and enjoy yourself. I am sure you will find many willing partners.” He smiled and allowed himself to touch her face. But he could not dance with her, as though he had no cares.

Not when Danae had provided him the perfect opportunity to get close to her.

He had lied to Cerridwen when he had told her that she would one day fell Danae herself. That was a revenge he reserved for himself. He hoped that one day, Cerridwen might forgive him. But for now, it was worth the risk.

Twelve

C erridwen stumbled from the dais, hurt and confused, but she would not display those emotions to the Fae that she now ruled. Instead, she motioned to Danae.s—now her—

handmaidens, and they helped her to tie her long sleeves behind her neck and tuck up her skirt so that it would not interfere with the dancing.

So, Cedric thought she would find many willing partners. She moved determinedly through the crowd. She would find someone suitable. Not some high-ranking member of the Court. No. Someone low. Someone common, so that she could show Cedric how easily she could purge him from her thoughts.

At the edge of the group of musicians, a dark-eyed Human played a fife, tapping his foot in time with the music. He was beautiful, with sun-browned skin and dark hair tied back at his nape. He was exactly the kind of Human Cerridwen would have danced with at one of the Darkworld parties.

She surveyed the musicians with a merry smile on her face, and clapped her hands to them when their song was done. Then, with a grin that she hoped displayed charm more Fae than mortal, she beckoned the Human to her.

The musicians cheered and cracked wise to their friend, and he looked slightly embarrassed at having been singled out by the Queene. But he looked pleased, as well, and that made Cerridwen quite happy.

“For the Queene.s first dance,” the bodhrán player cried over the noises of the crowd. “A Rufty Tufty!”

The band started up the tune and Cerridwen breathed a sigh of relief. It was not a difficult dance, and it was one that she, thankfully, knew. She bowed to her partner and began the steps. “What is your name?” she asked, as she walked her half-circle about him.

“Christopher,” he said, surprisingly confident for someone dancing with his Queene. He added, “Your Majesty,” almost as an afterthought.

“Do you like dancing, Christopher?” She came to stand at his side, and they spun to the left.

“No, I do not, Your Majesty. I prefer to make the music, rather than dance to it.” He took her hand and led her a few steps away, then back to the couple that danced beside them. Cerridwen linked hands with the male Faery beside her, and saw his partner make a face as she touched the Human Christopher.

In the moment that she was turned again to face the dais, she looked to Cedric. Did he seek to catch her eye? Did he appear unsettled, that she danced with another? But he was leaning close to Danae, who once again had seated herself on the throne, and they were deep in conversation.

“He is a poor mate, indeed, if he will not dance with you,” Christopher said as he took her hand and led her in a long turn.

“Do not speak so to me, Christopher,” she warned him, but her heart was not in it. “I would hate to have…your lips burned off with irons.”

“My lips burned off?” He laughed at that, and she was forced to join him.

“It was all I could think of that might hinder your music-making,” she said, face flaming. Perhaps it was the wine, but she truly was capable of enjoying herself without Cedric.

Then, her heart dropped. That was what he had intended all along. To show her that she did not need him, so that it would not hurt her when he left her. On the dais, Danae.s hand rested on Cedric.s shoulder, and he made no move to push it away.

Cerridwen marched through the rest of the steps mechanically, and when the music stopped, she bowed to her partner. “I thank you, Christopher,” she said, her voice strange and strained to her own ears.

“You do not like the dancing, I think.” He bowed again, this time in deference.

“Perhaps that one is best saved for later, when too much wine makes more complicated patterns impossible. For now, though, it is boring.” She fanned herself with her hand, feigning warmth. The disappointment that had settled in her chest would keep her cold for many nights to come, though. She was certain of that.

When she looked back to the dais, Cedric and Danae had gone.

The Palace was dark, except for the room at the center. Low flames burned in oil lamps there, and mounds of plush cushions littered the floor. A side table was set with wine and two goblets. If Danae had imagined that Cedric would not guess that her plan had been seduction all along, she was terribly naive.

“This is very…welcoming,” he noted with a wry smile. “I assume that this has all been done in my honor?”

Danae came to stand beside him, slid her hand between his wing and his shoulder. “It is only the welcome you deserve.”

As quickly as she had sidled up to him, she retreated, going to the side table to fill the goblets. “I am surprised at your desire to stay in the woods with that…with your Queene and mate.”