Page 48 of Heir of Autumn
The lattice screen closest to me split in half, the cause of the room’s sudden destruction cutting straight through. An enormous golden leaf spun through the air, lodged into the wall with a thunk. As long as a sword, as wide as the head of an axe, and as deadly as a buzzsaw.
Her hands clasped together, her face a mask of meditative calm, Queen Aurelia stepped over the broken screens, her skirts sweeping at the debris as she passed. The dying sunlight fell in little stars and circles across her face, filtered through so many wooden slats and shutters.
I flinched when her eyes met mine, the deep amber of them filled with frightening tranquility. She smiled. I gawped wordlessly back, terrified, confused.
The queen gestured toward the strange leaf-shaped weapon still stuck halfway through the wall. It freed itself and returned to her, shrinking as it did, small enough to fit in the palm of her hand.
It was the same leaf Sylvain had used to guide me here. She pressed it into my palm, closed my fingers around it. Both her touch and the golden leaf were warm, but the room and my blood had run so cold.
“We all have different gifts, do we not, Lochlann? You and your fine art of summoning, my prickly daughter and her pretty thorns. You’ve seen now how close my son is to me, so much so that we share similar talents.”
“Your Majesty, I would never say or do anything to hurt him. Sylvain is very special to — ”
She raised her hand, stopping me mid-sentence. I wasn’t about to argue with the lady who could not only turn leaves into razor blades, but grow them into giant flying guillotines, too.
“I hear you, and I acknowledge you. I am not asking you to sever ties with my son. I only wish for you to temper your expectations. You understand, don’t you? He belongs among his kind, and so do you.” Queen Aurelia cupped the side of my cheek, turned my face this way and that. “So handsome, too. And so fragile. And so very human. Sylvain is fierce, carefree by nature. High fae to his very core.”
The queen spoke with such warmth despite the sharpness of her words. She handled me with a velvet glove, but I could easily imagine a knife in her other hand. Nothing Sylvain had ever said about her could have prepared me for this.
“You may play your summoner’s game as long as you like. I do not forbid it. Only know that one fine day, Sylvain will remember the truth of who he is, and what he stands for.” She removed her hand, tilted her head, smiled sweetly. “Whether it is he or Yvette who ascends to the throne, that is Sylvain’s place. When the time comes, I pray that you’ll remember yours.”
Queen Aurelia looked over her shoulder and curled her fingers. Time seemed to reverse itself, the shattered wooden screens mending, righting themselves into their original positions, seamless and smooth like nothing had ever happened. The queen nodded, pleased with her work, and patted me on the chest before she swept out of the room.
I stood there, balancing the single golden leaf in my palm, staring at it, studying it. Aurelia’s words had met their mark. Yvette’s, too. Message received. I was shaken, yes. And I was frightened, too.
But I wasn’t about to give up on Sylvain. Not without a fight.
20
“And you should seetheir treehouses, Locke.” Satchel spun in the air, arms stretched as wide as they would go. “Huge! The pixies here are living their best lives.”
Sylvain chuckled, amused by Satchel’s excitement as the three of us walked down the corridor toward Sylvain’s bedchambers.
I cocked an eyebrow. “Is that a not-so-subtle hint there, Satchel? Are you asking to be put on the waitlist for the Canopy so we can build you a treehouse back in the Wispwood?”
He crossed his arms, wings fluttering indignantly as he puffed up his cheeks. “Who said I was asking?”
I rolled my eyes and sighed. “Fine. I’ll talk to Roberta Smothers when we get back. Ugh. No, you’d better come along, too. She might play nicer with pixies.”
Roberta Smothers was a dark, evil, malevolent force who lingered in the bowels of the Wispwood. Also, she ran the academy Housing Office.
Satchel rushed me, planting a tiny kiss on my cheek. “Locke, thank you, thank you, thank you! I promise I’ll make it worth your while.” He landed on my shoulder, chest thrust out. “Gonna start my own tailoring business. Just you wait.”
I rubbed at the spot on my cheek, bemused, flattered. When I first met Satchel, he was angry and resentful, fresh out of his seven-year slumber in his glass cage in that bank vault. At the time I never would have believed he could be so affectionate.
“Your very own business?” Sylvain asked, tilting his head. “One day he’s a familiar, and the next he’s a haberdasher. How wonderful. Is that what you’ve been busying yourself with? All the supplies you secured from Doctor Fang’s office, and that thing you were sewing in the oriel.”
“Never mind that,” Satchel said, flying back down the corridor in the opposite direction. “Partying with the palace pixies tonight, don’t wait up, gotta go, bye!”
Satchel zipped away, disappearing from view. I turned my hands up, then frowned accusingly at Sylvain.
“Have you been feeding him more of those damn candies?”
“Don’t be preposterous.” Sylvain stiffened and lifted his chin. “And not many. Clearly Satchel has been devouring plenty of sugary treats on his own. Why, you saw him at the dinner table, didn’t you?”
I shook my head. “Yes. Like a tiny vacuum cleaner. Very cute, but I hope it wasn’t too embarrassing. Your mother and sister might think we never fed him, the poor thing.”
Sylvain laughed. “I’m sure they didn’t mind one bit. In fact I’m certain Mother thought of it as a compliment. No clearer evidence that she’d hired only the best chefs and bakers. She must be elated.”
