Flicker (55 page)

“Nothing just yet,” Nasser said. “There’s nothing we can do.”

They sat and studied the ground. Nasser wanted to ask Jason what had happened. Wanted to
smack him, shout at him
, shake him. But Jason looked so tired and somewhat ill, as Lee had when she awoke from her magic-sickness, and Nasser was exhausted, too. Besides, he was so obscenely grateful that Jason was all in one piece that all he could do was shake his head and sigh, wordless. He and Jason would have time to talk—he had to believe that—but the time wasn’t now.

After a while, Jason gave Filo a sideways look and spoke quietly in Old Faerie:
“I
understand
why
Nasser would come for me,”
he said.
“But not you. What are you doing here?”

Though he couldn’t speak it with any fluency, Nasser actually understood much more Old Faerie than he let on. But nobody needed to know that. Better to keep some things priva
te.

Since Filo, Jason and Alice had always been under the impression that Nasser’s Old Faerie was nonexistent, they made a point of speaking it when they didn’t want him to hear something. Like right now.

“Of course I’d come after you,”
Filo shrugged.

“Why?”

“Because—”
Filo looked away.
“You’re my friend. So of course I would.”

* * *

With Marcan at her side, Byrony strode toward the
area of the revel
where th
e royal family and highest nobles were gathered. The area was ringed by elegant silver birches and swarming with
knights
. When they reached the entrance, Marcan took the lead.

“W
hat brings you
, Marcan?” one of the guards asked
, quirking an eyebrow
. “I thought you were on patrol.”

“I am,” Marcan replied. “But
something has come up, and
I require an audience with the Queens.
Send a messenger. Tell them that
this involves a dryad and human prisoners.”

At first, the guard squinted suspiciously
at Marcan and Byrony. Then he
nodded and summoned a pixie messenger with a wave of his hand. He gave her the message, and she scampered off.

It was several minutes before the messenger returned.

“The Queens,” she panted, winded from running there and back, “agree to a brief meeting. You both may proceed.” Without another word, she rushed off.

At that, the guards stepped aside, and Byrony and Marcan entered the royal area. Here,
the Daoine Sidhe
lounged on piles of cushions and sipped wine from jewel-encrusted go
blets
, glancing up as Byrony and Marcan passed. Human companions were strewn about everywhere, either performing so
me service
or being stroked like pets.

A pair of servants bowed and parted the gauzy white curtains that shielded the Queens’ quarters
from the curious gazes of the lesser nobility
. Even as she neared the thrones, Byrony couldn’t help but skim the crowd for Umbriel.

Her steps slowed when she spotted him. He was standing near a glassy pond, chatting with a group of cousins, dressed in a beautiful white and gold suit—his coronation outfit. As always, Carrick stood at his side, as immovable as a mountain. He didn’t participate in the conversation: Carrick may have been Umbriel’s closest companion,
and one of the Daoine Sidhe,
but he was of only modest nobility. In such
high
company,
he
had no leave to speak unless spoken to. Still, Byrony noticed how Umbriel’s eyes always flickered to Carrick,
and how he flashed Carrick brief smiles,
showing that he was not forgotten simply because of the present company.

“That’s close enough,” said a voice. Yet another knight stood before them, blocking their path to the thrones. Before
Byrony
could speak, the knight waved to a page. The page scurried to the throne, where Feronia sat, speaking to a pair of nobles
who knelt
before her.

Feronia glanced up as the page approached her, and listened while the page whispered in her ear. Then her bright eyes moved to Byrony and Marcan, and though Byrony couldn’t hear her, she understood the reply given to the page:
Make them wait.

“Her Ladyship is not ready to see you,” the page announced. “You must wait. Outside. Someone will fetch you when it is time.”

Byrony fought the urge to scowl as they were led away, beyond the
curtain.

Just before she stepped beyond the curtain, Byrony stole a glance at Umbriel. He was still with his cousins, unaware of her presence. A page approached him cautiously, bowing deeply and rising at his word. The page whispered to Umbriel. Then Umbriel turned and spoke to Carrick, who nodded and followed the page away.

But there was no time to speculate. The curtain had already been closed behind them, and they were left to wait until the Feronia deigned to see them.

* * *

Time passed slowly in the prisoners’ pen. Filo was lying on his ba
ck in the grass,
trying to discern a pattern in the scattered clouds. He’d long since given up trying to think of a way to e
scape.
This, he thought, was how it felt to be an animal on its way to the slaughterhouse.

Hours crawled by. The sun
hardly budged.

When the mushrooms parted again, he barely stirred. “Think they’ve decided what to do with us?” he asked with a sigh.

But no silent guard entered the enclosure. Along with the opening came a series of yelps and shouts. Filo and the others snapped to attention.

A pair of knights was trying to escort a prisoner through the opening—
trying
, because said prisoner was shouting and thrashing, making it nearly impossible for the knights to keep their arms around her.

She was small and t
hin, yet she
bucked
against the knights w
ith all the ferocity
of a cornered wildcat. It was all the knights could do to drag her into the pen and hurl he
r to the ground
. Immediately Filo lunged toward her
. She struck out at him when he touched her, landing a solid blow against his cheek, then drew back in horror when she realized what she’d done.

“Alice,” Filo choked, grabbing her thin shoulders and shaking her. His cheek tingled where she’d punched him. “What are you
doin
g?
”

The knights ducked out of the opening, then returned a moment later with a second prisoner. This one was led into the pen calmly and without a fuss, making no trouble for the knights, who were scratched and bruised from their brief run-in with Alice. One of them had a split lip, dribbling blood.

Filo was still shaking Alice, like he could make her disappear if he only shook hard enough. But when his eyes fell upon the newcomer, he froze.

It was Rodney.

“What did I
tell
you, Alice?” Rodney sighed. Unlike the rest of them, Rodney’s hands had been bound with slim metal handcuffs. Already his wrists were red and chafed by the contact. The rest of him appeared unscathed. “Don’t fight with knights. They always win. Yet that’s exactly what you did.”

Glowering, the knights moved to exit the enclosure, but stopped short when there came a shout from outside:

“Wait!” called a voice. Male and com
manding. “Give me a moment
with the prisoners.”

With that, the knights hurried from the e
nclosure, and yet another faery
entered.

He was tall and broad-shoulde
red, dressed in bark armor
was dotted with bright blue moss that matched his eyes. His golden hair was cut shorter than most of the other knights; it fell to just below his ears. The knight’s lovely face twitched when he saw Rodney.
His hand curled around the hilt of his sword.

“Riordan
.” He said it
like an accusation. He stepped back
and looked Rodney up and down.
“Is it truly you?”

“Truly enough,” Rodney shrugged. “But I am called Rodney now.”

Carrick shook his head. “I haven’t seen you since
.
…
Why, not since
after
—”

“Has it been so long?” Rodney interjected. “Oh, Carrick, my old friend. You haven’t aged a day.”

“This is no time for jokes, Riordan.”

“It’s Rodney now.
Rodney.
”

But Carrick didn’t seem to hear him. “Feronia could have your head,” he continued. “All of your heads. Riordan, surely you know this?”

“I’m painfully aware,” Rodney said, raising his arms to show his welted wrists. “But I trust that you’ll put in a good word with Umbriel. Assuming, of course, that he remembers me.”

“I’m afraid Umbriel is not King of Summer yet.”

“No, but the Court adores him. They would loath
e
to see anything happen that he was against, and Feronia will respect that, if only to keep from tarnishing her image.”

“You always were a clever one,” Carrick acknowledged. “It’s such a shame that you left us. But I will
speak to Umbriel and
see what I can do. Trust me on that
…
Rodney
.” He turned to leave, then stopped. “Before today, how long had it been since you answered to your real name?”

Rodney smiled sadly. “Too long, I think.”

Carrick nodded once. “I shall see you soon enough
, my friend
.” And then he was gone.

For a moment, stunned
silence
reigned over the pen. Then Filo jumped to his feet and rounded on Alice. “What are you doing here?” he demanded. “I told you not to come after us!”

“You tell me
to do
a lot of things,” Alice replied
coolly
, standing. “I don’t do half of them. Did you expect me to start now? Besides, I couldn’t wait any longer. I was going crazy, imagining all the different things that could’ve happened to you by now. So I went to Rodney and asked if he would help
me go after you
.”

“But—” Lee sputtered. “We’ve only been here for a few hours.”

Alice shook her head. “No, Lee. Remember, time passes differently among faeries. You’ve be
en gone almost
five days
.”

* * *

Lee gaped at Alice.
Five
days had passed in what felt like a few hours.
Five
days.
Now she fina
lly understood how she spent seven
years in the revel and felt as if she’d been away for a single night. How her life had slipped through her fingers like water. Her hands were shaking.

“Why did he call you Riordan?” Jason asked.

“Because that’s my name. Well,” Rodney amended, “it was.”

“Funny you never mentioned it,” Filo said darkly.

Rodney shrugged. “One of your human poets once said that a cat must have three different names. Or, in my case, more than three. Many more.”

Nasser looked up. “How do you know Umbriel?”

“Can’t you guess?” Even now
, Rodney was teasing them.

“You were a knight,” Alice breathed. She was looking at Rodney as if she’d never seen him before. “An actual Summer Court
knight
.
One of the Daoi
ne Sidhe.
You never told us.”

“You never asked, my dear. And you and Filo aren’t
the only ones hiding
accents,” he added with a wink. “The Daoine Sidhe came from Ireland
, you know
.”

“Well,
” Alice said,
“
why aren’t you a knight anymore?”

They all gazed at him expectantly. Finally, he shrugged.

“I was born into the Summer Court, to a clan of moderate nobility,” Rodney began. “Like most boys of my station, I was taken from my family at a
young age for knight training, to serve Queen and Court.
That was where I met Carrick. Though he is Umbriel’s personal guard and companion, he is of lesser nobility, like me. We trained together, and became good friends. After we were knighted, we were assigned to the same regiment.

“I was a good knig
ht
.
A loyal knight.
Young.
Strong.
Foolish. But I learned quickly.”