Page 43 of Heir of Autumn
“It does not unsettle me, Your Majesty. No. This man is the second human I have served as a familiar, but he is also the kinder of the two, treating me with nothing but fairness and respect. I can only presume that you’re asking me in order to gauge whether your son is being treated in a similar capacity, but I can only answer for myself.”
He glanced at me again, offering me a little smile. I smiled back, feeling like my heart could burst.
“Lochlann Wilde, unlike his father, has repeatedly communicated that ours is not a relationship between a master and a familiar, but one of allies. Friends. This is something he has demonstrated in both his words and his actions. I would argue that I have never been more rested. Or more well fed, for that matter.” He pinched his waist, eliciting soft laughter from the courtiers.
Queen Aurelia beamed, satisfied, and maybe even a little proud of Satchel’s honesty. I didn’t have a mirror handy, but I could only imagine that I was wearing a similar smile. Satchel would hate to admit it, but he’d spoken so freely, and so truthfully. He was right. I might not ever be as powerful or as legendary as my father, but I could at least try to be a better man.
Sylvain nodded at me, his eyes bright and reassuring. Satchel flitted over to sit on his shoulder, making space for me to approach the throne. I genuflected as well, copying what Satchel did.
“Ah, greetings, young human,” Aurelia said, her tone back to its initial softness. “These customs truly are so trite, are they not? I suppose it’s at least an opportunity to stretch one’s hamstrings. Arise.”
I kept my head lowered, some part of me still suspecting that looking directly into the queen’s eyes was punishable by execution. But no one had told me as much, so I ventured a glance, and was immediately enraptured by her gaze.
Where Sylvain’s eyes were a rich gold, Queen Aurelia’s were deep and scintillant. The golden-brown of autumn preserved in the form of gemstones, or perfect specimens of polished amber, exactly like the name of her palatial home. I searched her eyes for malice, or anger. I found nothing but curiosity, even something approaching kindness.
And then she opened her mouth.
“So you must be the human who enslaved my precious son.”
Cold fear washed over me, the sensation of walking outdoors into harshest winter. I kept my gaze locked with hers, using my peripheral vision to detect whether her courtiers were drawing daggers, pulling out swords and spears with which to eviscerate me. But nothing. No response. Well, except for Sylvain’s protestation.
“Mother. Please.”
Queen Aurelia burst into laughter, the rest of her court following suit. I glanced at the others, utterly perplexed. Yvette, Sylvain’s sister, shot me a wry smile. Sylvain shook his head, his hand on his brow as he heaved a sigh of relief. Satchel grinned awkwardly and shrugged.
“I jest, of course,” Aurelia said when the laughter died down. “Though perhaps my sense of humor does not translate very well. You’ll forgive me, young Lochlann. I was raised to be queen, not a jester.”
“No, Your Majesty,” I stammered. “It was — it was very funny. Though I do feel the need to clarify that it isn’t really a matter of servitude. For a summoner to form a pact, there must be consent. Negotiations, bargains struck, to ensure that both parties mutually benefit.”
“And yet I’ve been told that Sylvain’s enormous mouth sealed the pact, anyway.”
Queen Aurelia’s shoulders trembled as she held in her laughter. Yvette snorted. Sylvain glowered at them both. I bit the inside of my cheeks, wanting so badly to laugh along with them, to defuse all this tension bunched up in my chest.
“That’s more or less how it happened,” I said, laughing nervously.
Sylvain’s lips parted in speechless shock as he flinched at my betrayal. Hey, it was the truth, wasn’t it? I could spend the rest of the day massaging his wounded ego and any other parts of his body he wanted me to. Right then I was much more concerned about indulging the queen with the wicked sense of humor and keeping my head on my shoulders.
“Oh, how unbecoming of me. I apologize again, Lochlann.” The queen wiped a finger under her eye and fanned herself with her other hand. “Trust that I do not hold your magical traditions against you. It would do my son well to learn one or two things about obedience and subservience.”
At that point Sylvain was pouting so hard his face could have collapsed in on itself, spontaneously generating its own black hole. I gave him an apologetic smirk, wanting nothing more than to kiss his scowl away.
Maybe later, once the Autumn Queen was done thoroughly roasting her only son.
18
I didn’t havemuch time to sneak in more than a quick tangle of fingers with Sylvain, a mutual brush of our knuckles. Queen Aurelia had called on her kitchens to prepare a grand luncheon to welcome home her wayward son, from one roast to another. It was also a chance to fete her guests. That would be me and Satchel, whisked away from the audience chamber just as soon as the queen decided that Sylvain had received a good enough ribbing.
Queen Aurelia led the way. Courtiers bowed, once again whispering as we walked past, their smiles as syrupy as ever. There was something different there, though. I could sense that the wind had shifted in my favor. Somehow I’d been upgraded from suspicious one-night stand to a politely tolerated presence, someone who wasn’t just there to mess with their beloved prince’s heart.
Yvette pounced on me before I could sidle up to Sylvain, linking her elbow with mine like we were the best of friends. Very encouraging, actually.
“So,” she said, grinning out of one corner of her mouth. “You’re the human who’s driven Sylvain totally insane.”
I laughed softly, trying to keep things subtle. The queen was walking ahead of us, and she seemed friendly enough, but I still didn’t want to step out of bounds. “Well, I wouldn’t know about that, exactly. Maybe it’s more accurate to say that we drive each other insane.”
She nodded sagely, eyes narrowed. “I believe you. I would know, anyway. I had to grow up with him, after all. He’s both my favorite and my least favorite little brother, if you can believe that.”
“I heard that,” Sylvain growled.
