The rest of that week passed in hushed silence. The Queen had locked herself in her room, apparently so enraged she could not face her subjects. As for me, I kept it in until I could no longer take it.
So nine days after Oberon's capture, I headed down to his cell in the dungeons. There were no guards stationed – the dungeon was so heavily warded with spells that it was utterly impossible to escape. I headed straight down till I found him.
For a long moment we looked at each other. Then Oberon barked out a laugh.
"Come to see the traitor, have you?"
I nodded. "Did-Did you truly do it? Plan to kill Her Majesty?"
He didn't deny it. "Of course. You're one of her ladies-in-waiting, you know how she is. She's a menace. A hateful excuse for a Queen. She needs to be killed, and I was more than willing to do it. I only wished I'd realized that sooner."
"But you're her consort!"
"And that matters because?"
I shook my head. "Look, I know she's a terrible Queen. But that doesn't mean you can kill her."
"Doesn't it?"
I was silent. Deep down, I agreed with him. She needed killing, and badly.
He stood in his cell. "Look, you can help me, Titania. You're powerful. I've seen you. You've been training; you're twice as powerful as the other ladies combined!"
I couldn't disagree. I was exceptionally strong when it came to magic; even at less than thirty years old, I was more than capable of doing things it would take a five-hundred-year-old Fae to accomplish. And . . . the more I thought about it, the more I knew Oberon was right; and the more I wanted to help him. I made a split-second decision.
"What do you want me to do?"
He smiled. "I knew you'd do the right thing. Listen, Titania, I plan on being King of the Seelie. I'm just as powerful as she is, and I know I'd be a far better ruler. But I don't want a series of consorts. I know better than anyone that you can't trust a consort." He laughed. "No, what I want is an equal. Someone I can really trust. Titania, you're strong enough to be that person."
I was still. "Explain."
"Titania, I want you to get me out of here. I want you to help me kill this twisted excuse for a Queen that we have. I want you to help make me King. And then I want you to be my Queen."
I am sure that whoever is reading this right now is horrified. You may even suspect what I myself did – that eleven years ago, Oberon had only given me my position as lady to the Queen because he had been planning her murder even then. Deep in my heart, I knew that Oberon had only ever seen me as a tool to be polished and wielded to the maximum effect. But listen – I was unhappy with my position serving the Queen. And yes, the idea of such high status tempted me beyond compare. I had started off as a common village girl. The idea of becoming one of the most revered women in Faerie was impossible to give up; and so despite my misgivings I said yes. How could I not?
The day afterwards I entered the Queen's rooms, my heart pulsing wildly. "Majesty?" I called.
She didn't look up from her mirror. "What is it?"
Behind my back, I withdrew a gleaming knife from the folds of my skirt. An ordinary knife would have been hopeless against the Queen, but this dagger that Oberon had pressed into my hand before I left the dungeons had been brought back from the mortal world. It was made of pure iron.
Even just one blow would be fatal.
When I didn't answer, the Queen glanced up and frowned. "What . . ." She never got a chance to finish the question. In a fraction of a second the iron dagger flew from my hand and embedded itself in her chest. Her eyes widened for the briefest moment. Then her back arched and she fell. I had done my job to perfection.
The Queen was dead before she hit the ground.
