She’d thought the Seily Court would be different. When she’d first found them on the shores of the Isle of Skye, a part of her had believed they’d welcome her as a long-lost daughter. But those hopes had quickly evaporated. Caledon had always treated her kindly, and she had earned Jaelyn’s respect, but most of the remaining court had viewed her as nothing more than the granddaughter of a murderer and the daughter of an outcast.
It was true she had changed the opinion of many in the years since that meeting. Some of her dearest friends and staunchest allies came from the court. Their love and protection provided a family she had never dreamed possible.
Yet an outsider she remained.
The bonfire nearby took to flame and sprang to life. Effie blinked against its light. Its heat called to her, but she wanted a few minutes more with her thoughts. Or perhaps she wanted merely to be free from the warden’s infuriating gaze. She spied Gaelyph crouched over the body of the tall and hairy fey who’d led the Unseily host. He pulled something free from around the fey’s neck and examined it. Effie was too far away to tell what it was.
“The creature is a bogill,” said Caledon. The light of the bonfire played shadows on his face as he approached and offered her a hunk of the coarse bread. Her stomach gurgled, and she gladly took the offering. Her foul temper abated a little. The steward always had that effect on her. She wondered often whether his grace came from the mantle of stewardship or from his own natural charisma.
“It is what a male Sithling becomes, as a woman becomes a grindylow.” Caledon smiled at something. “I have learned much from the warden since his joining our cause. I have seen much, as well, and know his support will aid us greatly. He is a wealth of knowledge.”
Effie snorted. “It is support from Elphame we have greatly needed since the start of this mess. That he arrives now only begs to question his designs.”
Caledon laughed. “Aye, you are too right. I can always trust in your clever mind to unravel a puzzle.” He nodded toward the warden. “Gaelyph is not very different from the lords of London, in some regards. Those of Elphame believe the Scottish fey chose to abandon them by not leaving with the court. The Queen of Summer graciously allows us our choice but would rather we come to her and re-pledge our loyalty.”
“The Queen of Summer?” Effie cocked her head in surprise. She had believed the Seily Court no longer held any fey of royal blood. She had never heard any fey speak of her existence, not even Caledon. The only tales she knew that even mentioned a fey queen were those of humans who chanced a meeting under a sacred tree or within a ring of standing stones. Yet none of those were likely to hold any merit.
“Righm’s daughter,” answered Caledon. “It is by her grace that I hold the position of steward, though she involves herself little in the affairs of Earth. Most often, even in Elphame, she does little beyond sleep and dream of distant stars. It has been thus since before the days of the Romans.”
“But that must make her…”
“Aye.” Caledon’s eyes sparkled. “The royal fey do not age as we Sithlings do. Their Tuatha blood is closest to that of the Daoine Sith. The same holds for the Sidhe Bhriege. It is why they have survived these many ages in captivity within the Downward Fields.”
Effie sighed. It felt sometimes the more she learned of the Seily Court, the more discouraged she became. “So if the warden did not come at the queen’s behest, why did he come? And why now?”
Caledon gave her a small nod. He held a knowing look in his gaze but did not speak. Effie had seen the look before. Either the steward had no idea, or he possessed some information he did not wish to share. As a Star Reader, he knew well how his own judgements could shape future events, for both good and ill, and he often chose to give gentle encouragement rather than an opinion guised as truth.
Effie would need to remember to guard her tongue around the warden if she could not avoid him entirely. As for the Queen of Summer, she would waste no more breath. If the queen had not chosen to intercede by now, there was no hope of convincing her to do so. Effie had best focus on matters she could affect.
“Sir Walter Conrad has not yet found an efficient means to detect Aerfenium stores,” she said. She mused aloud as she scanned the ravine floor where the circle of Unseily fey had sprawled after the explosion. Only a faint flicker remained visible, the frost catching on the starlight.
“He relies on his prospecting machines, which are slow moving and prone to breaking down,” said Caledon.
Taking a pinch of bread, Effie chewed it slowly. The course flour tasted dry on her tongue. She would’ve added honey, had she any. “So how did this Unseily host manage to find it so easily? Can we imagine they stumbled on to it by chance? That does not seem likely, not when they needed a bit of the substance for their foul designs.” The thought had churned in her mind as she watched the fire, one question among many others.
The steward clasped his hands behind his back and surveyed the ravine. “It does not,” he agreed, “though it appears our luck held for the nonce. The stores we created at Balclune were enough to keep those Sidhe Bhreige still bound in the Downward Fields imprisoned.”
“No more escaped?” asked Effie. “You are sure?”
Caledon nodded. “None of us felt the sickness such a release imparts. But if the Unseily have indeed managed to find a way to locate Aerfenium, it is only a matter of time before that balance tips against us and more are released.”
The dry bread soured in Effie’s mouth. “Then we are in even more peril than I imagined. Against a single Sidhe Bhreige, the empire might fall to ruin. Against a handful, supported by an Unseily host…”
“The world is in great peril,” answered Caledon. “And on that matter, it is fortuitous in a small regard that we have come together this night—a silver twinkle in these dreary clouds. As you know, I have come from Balclune, where I discussed the fey matter with an emissary from Parliament.”
The steward turned to address her directly. “London is in an uproar over threats from the continent, and rather than take an opportunity to forge new alliances, they are reverting to their auld ways of placing blame.”
Effie felt a weight drop on her. “But Lord Granville will convince his lackeys to proceed with the treaty he promised, will he not?” She held her breath, though she could already guess at the answer.
“He will,” said Caledon, “but only after this ‘savage menace,’ as the gathered lords call it, is defeated. They have no trust in the Seily Court as long as one of our own continues to wreak such havoc on their people.”
Effie balled her fists. “The Sidhe Bhreige are not our own. We have debated this point with them ever since allying with London at Caldwell House!”
“They are of fey blood,” said the steward. “That is enough doubt for the lords when faced against such a stern response from the continent. The Germans use the spread of this banshee’s touch to demand access to Aerfenium. You know well they are justified in their concerns. They have heard the tales not only of the madness in the cities, but of the destruction the Sidhe Bhreige have brought on the Highlands. The French feel the same and have also demanded access to the substance.”
Effie felt her weary bones sag. She hugged herself tighter for warmth. “They are justified in their fears, yes, and yet it is all a ruse to grab at power. The Germans and French, all the world, want access to Aerfenium now that they have heard of it. They will use any argument to gain its fortunes. It is always the same with humans. They see what they want and position themselves to justify bloodshed.”