Whispers

For a moment, I can't sign. Or breathe. I stand, looking into Heartwood's twinkling eyes while the breeze blows stiff around us and the cries of the wild fey drift up from the garden.

Did Madoc tell you? I sign at last. No point in lying.

"Oh, please." She snorts. "That stiff-necked old redcap didn't even want to tell me the truth about how he became your stepfather, but I insisted. Horrible story, by the way; I can see why you ran away. No, I've known about Melly for a while now."

I stagger back, gaping at her. The world spins around me. She knew?

"Come now, Albia." Heartwood rolls her eyes and signs. You were a mortal from the High Court, under at least one curse and blessed by the unicorn, who wouldn't say anything about her past. And then you had a child with extraordinary powers, just when rumors of the Lost Heir started circulating.

"It doesn't take a genius to make the connection, Albia," she adds aloud, very dryly.

Put it that way and she does have a point. Why didn't you say anything? Does anyone else from the valley know? My hands shake so much I can barely sign. Thank the Trees the children are indoors with my family and there's only the signing-illiterate guards to see.

Of course I didn't say anything, she signs, looking impatient. Court business never brings anything good. Neither does royalty. I thought you probably had good reason to keep your mouth shut, so I did too. And no, I don't think anyone else knows. She shrugs. It's my job to think about such things, not theirs.

So what are you going to do? I ask with trepidation. Heartwood has been my friend, but, as she says, it's her job to consider the wider picture, and the greater good of her tribe. If she decides that the well-being of the Red Branch depends on turning me and Philomel over to Balekin or Eldred…

She gives a peaceful puff of her pipe, looking out over the peerless garden vista. "Your debtors will work off their debts to you," she says at last. "As for me…well, I've never actually seen the High Court before, you know. And the General has set rather good terms for our stay here."

I eye her warily. Does he know you know?

"Of course he does." For the first time, her gaze softens somewhat with pity. "We came to an accord, Albia. I'm sorry."

My head rings. You're going to help Madoc put Philomel on the throne?

She shrugs, still looking regretful but determined.

I glare at her. It won't be Philomel ruling, I point out. Madoc may have threatened Birch if I told anyone, but I think Heartwood is past that point. It'll be Madoc. He'll make himself Regent during her minority.

She sighs wearily. "All the more reason to win his favor, then," she says, but she doesn't sound enthusiastic. She sounds resigned.

She looks at me through the veil of smoke. I'm truly sorry, Albia. But I have to think about my tribe's future.

Slowly, I nod. I understand. And I do. Of course Philomel as High Queen would be a good thing for the Red Branch—and of course having the Regent's favor would be even better. And even if that weren't true, all of Faerie has been dreading the prospect of Eldred's death and one of his vicious and/or good-for-nothing sons taking the throne. It's Heartwood's duty to prevent that from happening, if she gets the chance.

Madoc will bring war, as Regent, I warn. He's been yearning for it for decades.

I know, she signs back helplessly, but any of the Princes would, too. And with my arrangement, we'll be on the winning side.

It makes a bleak sort of sense. What has he asked you to do?

This and that, she signs. I'm not supposed to tell you.

I smile grimly. I suppose it's gratifying that Madoc thinks so much of my ability to sway Heartwood and play havoc with his plans. Tell me what you can, when you can, I plead. And protect both children!

"Always," she says aloud, low and fierce. She reaches out to squeeze my hands hard before letting go.

She steps away. "I'd better get back to my people," she says, her usual calm, affectless manner returning. She nods toward the doorway to the house. "Looks like Lady Oriana might have something to say to you, too."

I turn around to see Oriana standing in the doorframe. She's white-faced, mouth a thin line. I look at her expectantly, but she doesn't say anything or call me over. She just looks at me, eyes full of some nameless, desperate emotion, before turning and hurrying away into the house.

Only once I'm back inside do I realize something: Heartwood never actually asked me which Greenbriar male sired Philomel. Maybe Madoc told her, though I doubt it. More likely she figures it was either Cardan or Balekin. Or maybe she decided that it just doesn't matter. I sigh. She has a point.

I go to find the children. They're with Heather and Vivienne, in their room drawing pictures, but come rushing to me as soon as I walk in. "Mommy! What did Heartwood say? Can we go home?" Philomel looks up at me with shining eyes, clutching Lulu.

It breaks my heart to deny her, but I have to shake my head. She's staying here. All the valley faeries are staying.

"Oh." Her little face falls. I squeeze her hard. She bites her lip, cuddling Lulu. I try to imagine her as High Queen, and I just can't.

Dogwood's head hangs. "He's never letting us go, is he?"

"Oh, I wouldn't be so sure of that, Dogwood." Heather looks up from fiddling with her camera with a smile. "Out of power, this thing," she mutters, shaking it. "Those solar panels can't replace batteries, not really…"

"What does it matter?" Vivienne demands with a flash of irritation. "Madoc will never let you take any pictures anyway. How did you even get it back, anyway?"

"It matters," Heather says obliquely. "And Heartwood got it back for me."

"What matters?" Dogwood demands. "And why would Madoc ever let us go?"

Heather shrugs. "Circumstances change, kid." She continues fussing with her camera.

Dogwood, Philomel, where is Birch? I sign anxiously. I didn't see him on my way up here, though I looked. Is he still with Madoc?

"Yeah," says Philomel. She lowers her voice. "I heard them shouting!"

I can't say I'm surprised. My heart clenches for Birch. Please, please, don't let him have provoked Madoc too much!

There's a slight noise at the door, and I turn to see Oriana standing in the doorframe. Her face is white and determined. I've never seen her look so tense.

"What is it, Oriana?" Vivienne demands impatiently. "Are you here to convey Daddy Dearest's latest imperial demand?"

Evenly, she shakes her head. "I wondered if you might come down with me, Taryn," she says quietly. "We can sew together. Like we used to."

I raise an eyebrow. Just where did this come from? I gesture at the children; I'm not leaving them again today.

She nods understanding. "Tomorrow, then? While the children are with Foxfire?"

"Oooh, are we starting sword lessons tomorrow?" Dogwood asks eagerly.

I nod, smiling at him. Philomel groans while Dogwood cheers. Cheer up, Melly! I sign. It will be good to learn proper swordplay.

"I hate swordplay," she whines. "I hate fighting."

I feel a smile tug at my lips. Oh, Madoc, if you do manage to make yourself Regent, you're going to have one hell of a time.

I turn back to Oriana just in time to see her hide a smile too. Perhaps I'm not the only one who's sick of Madoc's endless, endless violence and ambitions. We twinkle at each other, and I nod, giving her a little curtsy of acquiescence. She nods.

"Good. See you tomorrow, then." And she heads out in a swish of skirts.

Heather watches her go. "What was that all about?"

I shrug. I have no idea. But I have a feeling that it's nothing good.

What were you and Madoc fighting about? I ask Birch after the children have finally gone to sleep.

Madoc didn't let Birch out of his study until it was time for dinner, and then he sent Birch straight upstairs with the children. I did my silent-staring act at Madoc at the dinner table again, while everyone else made awkward conversation and poor Noggle sat rigid with discomfort and obviously wondering what he'd gotten himself into. I feel a bit sorry for him. He's well and truly stuck now.

After dinner, there was an illicit meal to be eaten, and then the children to be put to bed. It's only now, hours past sunset, that I'm able to talk to Birch.

He grins, a bit self-consciously. "Was it that obvious?"

Philomel overheard you. What happened?

"We had a frank exchange of views," Birch says wryly. "On a number of topics. He ended it by telling me that I could forget about ever going home again, with or without you, and that Heartwood is working for him now."

I nod. I know. She told me. I sigh. I can't really blame her. She's doing what's best for the tribe.

"I know," he sighs, and signs, She's not our enemy.

Balekin will try again, I agree. And Madoc—I break off just in time.

He raises his crest. "Madoc…what?"

"Yes," says a new voice. "Madoc what, Taryn?"

I nearly leap out of my skin. I silently cry out, shrinking back, and Birch thrusts me behind him, lunging forward, crest raised. Cardan, sitting in the open window, throws up his hands in self-defense.

"No need for that! I just wanted to talk."

"What are you doing here?" Birch peers past him at the guards. "How did you get past the guards?"

"Oh, please." Cardan hops off the windowsill to the floor. "I am a High Prince. I just gathered the shadows around me. It was easy enough to climb over along the outside of the building. The guards are all looking away from the house, after all. Speaking of which…"

His eyes flare, and he spreads his hands in a slow, outward motion. My ears pop, and all at once the room is much quieter. A dozen sounds I didn't even notice—night birds, insects—are suddenly blocked.

"There." Cardan withdraws his hands, looking pleased. "I've soundproofed the room. No one will be able to hear us."

Birch gives a muffled expletive. "What are you doing here?" he asks again.

"I thought it was time we tested a few theories." Cardan sits in the chair, as insouciantly as though he sneaks into people's bedrooms every night (and, if he was anyone's lover besides Jude's, I'd suspect that he did—but Jude would geld him with a blunt knife if he tried that).

"What theories?" Birch demands suspiciously.

Cardan grins up at him. "Well, the one Jude and I are currently banking on is that Madoc is hatching a plan to kill my brothers and install my niece as Queen and himself as Regent. Do you think this theory has any validity?"

For a moment, all is dead silence. Then Birch breaks it.

"He wants to be Regent?"

"I thought so!" Cardan crows, then cocks his head. "Hold on, you knew that he wants to make Melly Queen?"

To my relief, Birch hides the fact that he got the information from me. "I am not an idiot, Prince," he scoffs. "Of course that's the first thing that selfish redcap would think of. But Regent…" He shakes his head slowly. "Is he mad?"

"Mad with ambition," Cardan shrugs. I nod in agreement.

"That war-hungry redcap as Regent…" Birch's voice trails off in horror. "It'll be a bloodbath. A decade of war at least, consuming all of Faerie."

"That's what Jude thinks too," Cardan says. "Which is why she's opposed to the whole idea. Also, she doesn't really want to see her little niece thrown to the wolves at Court." He pauses. "Nor, for that matter, do I." His eyes flick to me. "Madoc told you, though, Taryn, didn't he? Told you, and then I'm guessing he threatened punishment if you told anyone else?"

I nod. He said he'd beat Birch bloody if I said anything, I sign, with Birch grimly translating. How did you figure it out?

Cardan gives an airy gesture. "The General is a highly intelligent man," he says. "But, like many highly intelligent people, he is guilty of one outstanding stupidity: he repeatedly forgets that there are other intelligent people in the world. He thinks no one is as smart as he is. Of course, given that he's been hanging around with Balekin, I can see how he came to that conclusion—"

Birch growls, crest rising as he half-steps toward Cardan. Cardan grins.

"All right, I'll stop playing around." He straightens, far more serious. "Madoc's plan is obvious to anyone who knows Madoc." He chuckles. "The General really has no idea how transparent he is."

What are you going to do? I sign frantically.

"Well, I personally would have no objection to—" He glances at the closed bedroom door. "—A certain person on the throne in a few years. She'd do a much better job than either of my brothers, and certainly better than me. But Melly is far too young. If she didn't get killed, she'd get manipulated by all the different Court factions and then there'd be chaos. Or, even worse, our captor will be ruling Faerie according to his own bloodstained vision, and teaching Philomel to do the same. I don't think you want to see that happen, Taryn, and I know Jude doesn't. She's been frantic, you know, ever since she realized."

I blink at this. I would never have guessed. Jude's even better at hiding her emotions than I thought. I didn't raise Philomel to be Queen. She'd be miserable, if she wasn't killed. Birch growls as he translates. It would just be Madoc on the throne really. I pause as a new, horrible thought strikes me. And he'll never give up power once he's got it. He'll make Philomel his puppet for life.

"Yes, I agree, that does seem like the sort of thing he'd do," Cardan says. "Which is why I think we should get word out to my father."

I cock my head in surprise.

"You mean King Eldred?" Birch says, sounding just as surprised.

"Of course King Eldred," Cardan says impatiently. "How many fathers do you think I have? Now that your fellow goblins are here and Madoc's not kicking them out just yet, we actually have a chance to get a message to the palace."

Birch folds his arms. "What kind of message?"

Cardan grins. "The truth, of course. That Madoc has the Lost Heir in custody and is making a personal bid for the throne."

Are you crazy? My hands shake so much I almost can't sign. Eldred will hand the throne straight to Balekin if he knows he's Philomel's father!

"Ah, but he won't." Cardan's eyes gleam wolfishly as he turns to me. "Because here we depart from the truth and employ your mortal gifts, Taryn."

"What do you mean?" Birch asks slowly.

"It's simple, really." Cardan smiles at him sunnily. "Taryn is going to tell Eldred that Philomel is my daughter."