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true that in times of strife, the weaker of the species fled to safer ground, but never had he seen the Faery
Quarter so barren.
 The ingratitude they show me is appalling, Garret grumbled, wishing, for just a moment, that he still had
Bran to agree with him. Served the fool right, though, for treading so incautiously with a Dragon.
From the head of his caravan, someone sounded an order to halt. The cart bearing him, empty of his
belongings, for it would look presumptuous of him to bring them back as though he had already won the
duel, tossed to the side as the guards pulling it settled it to the ground. Garret struggled to remain upright,
then climbed down from the cart altogether. The delay stung him like an insect that must be swatted
away, the urgency and irritation growing with every step he made toward the front of the line.
 What is this? he snapped, his anger nearly overflowing at the sight of the armed guards blocking their
way.
 You are not to pass, one of the guards intoned blandly.  The Palace will not receive you. You are to
go to Sanctuary and establish your camp in an out-of-the-way location in the tunnels surrounding it, to
wait until the official time of the duel.
 The Palace will not receive me? He threw his head back and laughed, as if he truly found the idea
absurd. Inwardly, he boiled.  I am the King. Never has there been a circumstance in which the King has
been prevented from entering the Palace.
 Never has there been a situation so grave as this, the guard said, seemingly unimpressed that his
monarch stood before him.
So, they were on her side, then? Garret took a deep breath that flared his nostrils. He looked imposing
when he did this, he knew. Regal. Far more royal than the creature who sat on the throne now.
He would have all of the Palace guards executed and replaced with his loyal subjects once he killed
Ayla. For now, though, to dispatch this one would be enough.  A sword, he called to the guards behind
him.
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The traitor before him held up a hand.  We are also charged with informing you that an attack on the
royal guard is an attack on the Queene herself. An act of war will negate the validity of your request for a
duel, and you will be banished from the Lightworld.
 If I do not cut down all of you first!
A guard pressed a sword into Garret s hand, and he tossed it aside. He turned to his party.  We will go
to Sanctuary. A bit of extra time spent there will not harm me in the least. In fact, it will give me a greater
advantage. He addressed the rest of the disloyal soldiers blocking the tunnel.  Perhaps that will be your
Queene s final mistake.
They dressed her in armor. She had never worn armor, never needed it. All of her fighting had been
done without rules, without the niceties afforded to a warrior. It had been raw and cruel, and only her
skill had protected her from harm.
 It is not an insult to you, Cedric said when she had questioned it.  And it will not protect you from a
death blow, should Garret land one. It is a ruse, a costume. You must look like a Queene, not an
Assassin.
 If I went before him in rags, I would not look a Queene, but I would not die in the fight, either. She
plucked the edge of the light metal covering her shoulders.  I cannot fight if I cannot move.
 You will be able to move. It is no heavier than the gowns you have been wearing. Cedric stepped
aside as a serving maid bustled through. Two maids took it upon themselves to coil up Ayla s hair, so
tight that her skin felt stretched, into two large rolls at the base of her skull.
 I did not fight in gowns. It was not the thought of the weight that truly disturbed her, but the thought of
what Garret would have said, when he was her mentor, if she had thought to protect herself in such a
way.
His voice, which had always seemed gently mocking, though now she knew it to be true mockery, came
to her through her memory.Do you doubt your skill so much, Ayla, that you would need armor to shield
you from your own mistakes?
Perhaps it was because it was true, that she did feel somehow safer, that it stung all the more. She had
no illusions about her skill when compared to Garret s, and the armor did, shamefully, seem as though it
might save her.
Cedric did not answer her. Perhaps he realized all of these things as well, or perhaps he simply did not
wish to argue with his Queene. Instead he answered the knock at the door, and took a box from the
guard waiting outside.
 What is that? The impatience in her voice was that of a child awaiting a present, and she turned her
attention to the puffs of her gossamer sleeves protruding from the open joints of the armor to appear
disinterested.
Her servants bowed to her, and she realized without looking up that Cedric had motioned for them to
leave. When they had gone, and the door had shut behind them, he lifted the top of the box and removed
something from within, his back to her.
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 I had this brought up from the treasury. I told them it was on your orders. I hope you do not mind that I
pretended to have your authority. He turned, and in his hands he held a crown. A twisted, arching thing
of fragile hawthorne branches twined with silver spikes like blades of daggers. The spikes rose up from a
glittering silver band, from which sparkled bloodred garnets. Garnets dripped down from the base on
chains so slender they appeared to be spiderwebs.
 What is this? Ayla had not spent much time at Court, but she had never seen Mabb wear something
like this. No, she had preferred delicate ornaments, things that would not outshine her own beauty and
majesty.
Cedric s voice held a note of sadness, one that Ayla had come to recognize in his voice whenever he
spoke of the dead Queene.  This is the crown Mabb wore in the first battle with the Humans. They say
that as she rode into the Human city, she looked like a Goddess of war.
 The first battle, and not the second? Ayla pondered the wicked-looking thing in Cedric s hands.
Would Garret remember the sight of his sister, whom he had fought beside in two such battles, and
whom he had killed without remorse?
A smile quirked the corner of Cedric s mouth.  Not the second. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]