A Way Down
DAPHNE
Hours later, the queen and I sit, yet again, in the quaint ambience of the tiny dining room, wearing much the same faces as we did near the end of lunch this afternoon.
There has been no visit from Petra. No word from Klyesque. No news of anything at all other than that of my learning that every single entrance and exit in this place, aside from Ash’s clever little tunnel, has been magicked to keep the inhabitants in and everyone else out.
Everyone except for the magic’s owner, that is.
Ash.
“Dinner was delightful,” I say in a drab and chalky voice. I literally didn’t taste a bite, my mind too agitated to think on anything past how late in the day it has already become as well as the fact that Klyesque may be out there going out of her mind with worry. However, I know from experience that the food in this realm is delectable so I pretend my enjoyment anyway.
The queen snickers to my left, arching an eyebrow much like her son does on occasion. “Really? What did we have?” She quizzes, taking a deep drink of faerie wine.
Flashing her a quick smile, my tongue hesitates as I realize I honestly do not know. “F-food,” I giggle, my hands going over my face to shield the burn of my skin from her eyes.
“Aha!” she laughs and I scowl at her playfully. “Worry not, dear. I couldn’t eat either. Not really. I’m too goddessdamned angry to eat. My son is a blasted fool.”
“I didn’t want to be rude,” I admit helplessly. “But you’re right. He is.”
Felice’s eyes dart in my direction and she studies me. Reaching across the table to gently stroke the top of my hand, she says, “Do not mistake me, sweet girl. I do not fault him for his attempt to keep you from joining him on his fool’s errand.”
My face grows hot and I refrain from glaring at her the way I want to. Fool’s errand? What exactly does that mean? Does she think he won’t be able to get Diana back? Or is it that the Winter Queen is that bloody powerful?
“Oh no?” I quip, with no small amount of spite. “Then what is it that you do fault him for, majesty?”
Felice’s hand squeezes my own and I turn my eyes upward in her direction to find her gazing back at me with a fondness I am altogether unused to. “Forgive me pet, but I strive for honesty.”
I nod at her, giving her the go ahead to divulge her heart the way that I spy she wants to.
Her smile falters and her nails very nearly tear into my skin. “For robbing me of my vengeance,” she says simply. “Should he kill that winter bitch ahead of my blade and without my audience I very much doubt I shall forgive him for at least a thousand years.”
“Your blade?” I mimic. Some fleeting memory of mine restating what Ash once told me of his mother’s prowess. “You wish to kill her yourself.”
She chuckles, sitting back as her eyes alight with sliver fire and her black hair seems to blow about with an unseen wind. “Not just kill her,” Felice growls out. “I wish to sacrifice her to the Tithe in the way that she sacrificed my-” she cuts off so swiftly that I nearly weep for her in the way that her face convulses with pain. It is as if something prevents her from speaking of the king’s death. Her husband’s. It is like she cannot, will not, say the words. That quickly her eyes dull and her words fall mute, her hand leaving mine to reach for her goblet of wine instead. “Never mind,” she whispers, taking such a deep drink that I begin to fear she aims to douse the pain of her loss more than quench her thirst.
Heaven knows what possesses me to do what I do next, but when she finishes her most recent swallow I snatch the goblet from her hands, my eyebrows drawing together with worry as she stares at me in shock. “No more wine for you, majesty. I’ll not have my child’s grandmother a witless fool by the time he comes.”
To my utmost surprise, she smiles. “He?”
Right. That would be the second time I’ve said as much. All I can do is nod.
“I really like you,” she says in way of reply. “You are so much like your mother that it’s uncanny.”
The sound of a hummingbird’s wings drawing near alerts me to one of the three cavern pixies arrival and I glance up from the table just in time to see, Delora as I have learned is her name, the smallest of the pixies in employ, hovering in the doorway.
“Yes, what is it?” Felice asks.
Delora smiles, showing her rows of bladelike teeth, them curtsies in midair before facing my direction. “It seems there is a visitor that paces outside the great glass doors,” she says in her adorably tiny voice. “The captain of the guard, miss. She awaits you in the corridor.”
Klyesque! Thank goodness.
Felice’s eyes meet mine excitedly and the pair of us nearly knock over our chairs with the speed of our exit. As we turn the corner back into the main hall, she comes into view looking as mad as a caged bull, indeed pacing back and forth in front of the entrance to the queen’s rooms.
“Praise the Goddess,” she shouts upon seeing me and I frown, racing forward only so that she might see the magical wind blow me back into the main hall. “I have looked everywhere for you! I was told you were under house arrest and I have scoured every crevice of this place in search of you. It never occurred to me that he might leave you here. With the queen. But I should have known. Sorry it has taken so long to find you.” It is on the tip of my tongue to dismiss her apology, but that is when she bows and I know without asking that Felice stands behind me.
“Rise, dear girl. You’ve no need to bow to a widowed queen.”
“I beg your pardon, majesty, but you mistake me,” Klyesque replies. “I do not bow before a widowed queen, but a cheated soldier.” Her teal eyes sparkle with respect as she rises. “The swing of your sword was greatly missed on that day, all those years ago.”
A glance over my shoulder shows Felice, battling back the bright of her eyes and I force myself to turn back around without consoling her.
If she is anything like me, which I’m starting to suspect that she is, she will refuse all comfort until her debt has been repaid.
There will be no tears from until she’s had a chance at her revenge.
“I am trapped!” I call out as loudly as I am able. “Ash has locked me in with his magic and I fear the only way out is up a tunnel I have no hope of climbing.”
Klyesque grins in that feral way that tends to make me giddy with joy and she says, “It’s true, that is the only way up. But it’s a good thing that I happen to know something even the queen, herself, does not.”
“Oh?” Felice chimes in. “And what, pray tell, is that?”
Klyesque smirks. “While that little tunnel may be the only way up, it is not the only way out. For there is also... a way down.”
Now, it is my turn to smile.