He crossed her back yard and went through the loose board of the fence into his own. When he opened the back door of his house his father stood in the kitchen making a pot of tea. Great. Just what he needed.
“Finally.” His father turned and his blond eyebrows rose. He might be an exile and no longer king, but he still looked the part, even in mortal clothes, with his regal features, neat blond hair, and green eyes that always seemed to see right into his soul. Steven wasn’t sure how long it had been since his father held a sword, but he’d remained broad-shouldered and muscular.
“Her Majesty wished to speak with me,” he mumbled. Really, he’d hoped to leave
without
seeing his father.
“Are you all right?” He took two cups down and set them on the counter.
“I didn’t realize you cared.” Bitterness flowed through his voice.
His father poured tea into one of the cups and handed it to him, then poured another. Taking it in his hands, his father leaned against the counter and drank.
“I may not be the best father in any of the realms, but I do care … even if I have trouble showing it. She’s calling in her favor isn’t she?” Notes of
I told you so
rang through his father’s voice, but to give him credit he didn’t say it.
Never bargain with the high queen. You’ll lose.
Steven stared into the depths of his tea but didn’t take a sip. “She’s sending me on a quest. She also … ” He might as well say, since he wasn’t forbidden to tell his father. “She ordered me to break Noli’s stone.” He blurted it out, as if doing so would lessen the pain. A glance out the kitchen window told him Noli still wept in the tree house. “But … ” Emotion crushed his throat making it difficult to form the words. “She wouldn’t permit me to tell Noli it was on her orders.”
“I see.” His father took a sip of tea, green eyes unreadable. “Will you be gone long? Should I manufacture a suitable tale to cover your absence?”
“Please? The quest can take no longer than a mortal month, but … ” Steven took a deep breath, the quest seemed too easy. Also, who knew what orders might await afterward?
His father made an empty gesture with his free hand. “You did bring this upon yourself, you know. You never should have gone after Noli in the first place.”
Steven slammed the cup on the counter, tea sloshing over the sides. “You’re going to be like that? Fine. I’m going to pack my things and leave.”
“Wait.” The single word rang with all the command of a king.
Steven stopped, eyes narrowing. “What?”
“If you’re permitted, please take your brother with you. He won’t come out of his room and a bottle of good cognac is missing. I detest wallowing.”
“I plan on it.” Steven bit back a pert comment. He detested wallowing? All his father had done since they’d arrived in this realm was wallow. “If that is all, I need to pack.”
“Take whatever you require.” He still stood there, leaning against the counter, holding his infernal teacup. But the offer was kind.
“I appreciate that, Father.” Steven turned to walk up the back stairs.
“And Stiofán … ”
“Yes?” he huffed, glaring.
For a moment his father looked at him, with one of his unreadable expressions. “Don’t die. Please?”
“I don’t intend to.” The thought that his father cared enough to say it warmed him.
“You may not—but she might.” His voice remained mild. “I’m sure Her Majesty has realized by now that you’re not going to be a malleable, perfect son. She is capable of much, and sending you on a task that ends in your death is not beyond her.”
“True.”
For a moment his father looked far away. “Don’t trust your uncle. While alive you and your brother are threats to the one thing he values most in life—the throne.”
A throne he stole from his own brother.
“I’ll keep that in mind, Father.” He went upstairs and straight to James’ room.
James laid on the bed, fully dressed, eyes closed. He reeking of liquor and an empty bottle lay by the bed. Steven took the water pitcher from the bedside table and unceremoniously threw the contents on James.
He sputtered, sitting up, wiping his mouth with his hand, curly dark blond hair sticking out every which way. “What was that for?”
“If I can’t wallow, neither can you,” Steven demanded. “Get packing, we’re leaving on a quest.” Before Noli’s mother pounded on his door.
James rubbed his green eyes. “We’re going questing?”
“Yes.” Steven looked out the window in time to see Noli’s mother stride up the front steps of the Braddock residence, basket on her arm. “We’re leaving now.”
“Why?” James traced his brother’s gaze to the window. “What happened?”
Steven’s chest tightened, the memory still fresh and raw. “Queen Tiana forced me to break Noli’s stone.”
“Flying figs.” James stood, grabbed the towel off the wash stand, and wiped his face.
“Um, language, James. But, yes—and I wasn’t permitted to explain it to her—and you can’t do it for me.” He sighed and raked a hand through his own messy blond hair.
“She’ll understand, after all, this is Noli.” James padded to his wardrobe. He’d shot up in height again, this moment he was a scrap taller than Steven. His younger brother also looked more the man, with their father’s broad shoulders, but Steven had started to fill out a little and didn’t feel nearly as gangly in comparison.
Steven stared out the window, fingering the remains of her sigil in his pocket. “That won’t make it hurt less, but yes, it’s an addition to the list of things I must undo.” James turned, empathy gleaming in his eyes. “At least she’s still living.”
He clapped his brother on the arm, remembering Charlotte and all that the little redhead had meant to his younger brother. “Indeed.”
“Where are we going?” James shook out a pair of trousers.
Steven gave the window one last look. Mrs. Braddock stormed out the backdoor, a scowl on her face, probably looking for Noli, who still hid in her tree house.
“I don’t know.” He sighed again. “I need to speak with Quinn. Pack. I have a feeling we don’t have much time.”
Kevighn looked at the door of the sparrow-class schooner, rucksack over his shoulder. He turned to the grizzled airship captain, grateful to have gotten this far. “Where are we?”
“Saint Louis. I wish I could take you further or hire you on permanently, but I can’t afford it right now.” The air pirate gave him a smile, teeth missing. “There’s slim pickings here, but if you head toward Chicago or New York you might have better luck.”
“I appreciate it.” After getting kicked out of the bar yesterday, he had to go somewhere else. Anywhere. Permanent employment wasn’t a requirement, but the air community was small, he could only win so much by cheating at cards before someone caught on.
Without another word, he disembarked the ship, heading off into the Saint Louis Air Terminal, hoping the gambling was good, the opium cheap, and the women plentiful.
Pain reverberated inside Noli as she sobbed into her knees, still sitting on the floor of the tree house. When he’d shattered her stone she’d felt it down to her very soul. It hurt nearly as much as the fact that someone forced him to do it and he was powerless to do anything but obey.
“Noli?” her mother yelled from someplace, probably the back door. “Magnolia Montgomery Braddock where are you?”
She ached inside to much to answer. It wouldn’t take long for her mother to look here.
“Are you up here?” her mother called from below the tree house.
“Yes,” she sobbed, not lifting her head.
“Get down here now.”
She remained rooted to her spot on the tree house floor.
“Don’t make me come up there,” her mother demanded.
Sobs continued to rib uncontrollably from Noli’s lips.
“Are … are you crying?” her mother called, voice softening. “Noli?”
After a moment, Noli heard the sound of someone climbing. Her mother appeared in the doorway. It had been nearly seven years since her mother had climbed the old oak.
“What’s the matter?” She crouched in front of Noli, arranging her skirts around her.
“V … he … he … broke … ” Noli couldn’t force the foul and painful words out of her mouth.
Her mother drew in a sharp breath. “Oh, dear. V broke it off? Did he tell you why? Should I speak with Mr. Darrow?”
Noli shook her head. She didn’t know which parent ordered V, but in either case speaking to Mr. Darrow wouldn’t make it better.
“No. V’s going away for awhile,” Noli finally choked out, trying to offer a half-explanation since she could hardly tell her mother the truth.
Mama drew her to her chest. “I know V meant a lot to you—and you had high hopes for him—so I’m not even going to try to say anything to make you feel better, because it won’t.”
Her mother held her as they sat in the tree house, Noli crying into her mother’s burgundy work dress.
“Going to Boston won’t help either,” Noli whispered, face hidden. “I … I don’t want to marry anyone else.
Going to Boston was supposed to be a treat, since we’ve been through so much and haven’t been back in such long time. If you ended up wishing to stay for the season, I wouldn’t have stopped you, but it wasn’t an attempt to marry you off. I knew you and V were sweet on each other. We’ll wait. We don’t have to go anywhere right now.” Her mother stroked her hair.
Noli sniffed, taking a handkerchief out of her décolletage and using it to blow her nose, grateful for her mother’s uncharacteristic understanding.
“You have a handkerchief, I’m so proud of you.” Her mother patted her on the shoulder. “Why don’t we go inside? This place is …small. Whatever you were cooking burned, but we’ll find something else to eat.”
Supper. Her hand went to her forehead. “I’m so sorry, Mama. I … I forgot.”
“It’s fine.” The smile reached all the way to her blue eyes.
They climbed down the oak’s “J”-shaped trunk. Her mother’s arm snaked around Noli’s waist as they made their way in the near-darkness to the house. Noli glanced over at V’s, lights shining in both V and James’ bedrooms. They were probably packing. She’d miss them both.
A quest! It sounded like something from an Arthurian novel, but odds were, if the queen was behind it, it would be as gruesome as a story by the Brothers Grimm.
The pain she’d felt from the stone shattering subsided, but the mental anguish remained. V meant so much, was so many things to her.
“Noli, dearest—we are Montgomerys, and Montgomery women are survivors. We don’t wither, we thrive.” Her mother stroked Noli’s face with her pale, ladylike hand, then opened the back door.
She had a point. Noli wasn’t some vapid doll dependant on the males in her life to support her and direct her future. Eventually she and V would find a way to be together, just like they’d make her mortal again. Until then, she’d thrive—and avoid getting married off.
As Mama opened the kitchen door, she frowned at Noli. “I don’t think that belt matches well with that particular dress.”
Noli’s hands went to her tool-belt. Whoops. Usually she took it off before her mother came home. “I was working on your sewing machine when … ”
She laid a hand on Noli’s arm. “Why don’t you take it off and clean up while I make tea.”
Noli put her tool-belt in her room, washed her face, then returned to the kitchen to clean up the mess. There wasn’t much for supper unless she made soup—which would take too long. She could make griddle cakes, but there wasn’t butter or syrup, only a little brown sugar.
Someone knocked on the front door. Her mother frowned. “Whoever could that be?”
She bustled off to answer it. Noli followed behind, peeking into the entryway, curious as to who’d come a-calling after dark. Not that anyone ever came a-calling.
“Papa, what are you doing here?” Unhappiness colored Mama’s voice.
Noli poked her head out so she could see. Grandfather Montgomery stood at the door, a shadowy figure in the low light, but still him, nevertheless. Panic whirled inside Noli like a dervish. If Jeff noticed the state of the house, Grandfather certainly would. They’d worked so hard to hide everything from him so he wouldn’t make them return to Boston forever.
“Why are you answering the door, Edwina? Are you expecting someone?” Disapproval at the impropriety of answering one’s own door dripped from Grandfather’s cultured voice.
“No, Papa. It’s … it’s only Noli and I. Please, come in. I’ve just made tea.” Mama cowered in front of him like a naughty little girl.
Theodore Montgomery, Noli’s grandfather, strode through the door, looking ever the gentleman in an evening coat and top hat. He surveyed the dark entryway with critical eyes and frowned. “You’re making your own tea and answering you own door? Why are there no lamps lit?” His nose wrinkled. “What is that smell—is something burning? Whatever are you wearing? For heaven’s sake, what is going on?”
Her mother stood there, face frozen in a look of total and utter terror.
“Good evening, Grandfather.” Noli forced herself into the room in an attempt to deflect the attention from her mother. “What brings you to Los Angeles?”
“Magnolia? My have you grown.” He gave her a hug. “Well, I think you’ve grown, I can’t see you in the dark. The new museum opened last night. Some of my friends are behind it and they invited me to their opening parties. Since my favorite girls live here, I thought I’d see the new art and
you
. It’s been ages since I’ve visited.”
“Oh, V was talking about the museum. Something about a collection of Dutch Golden Age paintings he’d like to see.” She grinned. V had a mild obsession with Dutch painters.
Grandfather nodded. “There are some very nice paintings there, as well as some lovely antiquities. I could do without the exhibit on faeries.” He made a face as if he’d eaten something bad. “Bah, why must grown men believe in such things? There is a rather beautiful gem, such an extraordinary color, even if it having once belonged to a faery queen is complete fable.”
“It’s probably a tale told to give a bit of pretty glass value,” Noli replied. Odds were that’s exactly what happened. Most of the artists and writers got the details about the Fae folk wrong, just like many of the artifacts “proving” their existence were fabrications.