A Court of Muses Read online

  Her current attire was a potato sack that barely covered her. She no longer had any fingernails or toenails on the hand that was intact as they’d been torn off. Strips of skin had been ripped away on her arms and legs. Her hair once had been glossy and the color of midnight. It now hung in clumps, caked with dried blood. The protective runes that had been on her face were scabs. One side of her hair had been shaved, and the runes scraped off.

  Her aquiline nose was now crooked. Many of her teeth were missing or broken. She didn’t resemble the regal warrior princess she had once been. The swelling around her bruised face camouflaged her features so thoroughly she could have been anyone.

  She cowered on the floor before Prince Elric-Atherius. “Please, no more. I beg of you.” She had a hint of an accent, French perhaps. Errol hadn’t noticed it before.

  “I’m not here to hurt you. I simply wish for us to have a little chat.” Prince Elric-Atherius’ voice was calm. “Would you prefer to have a sit-down on the stool or the floor?”

  She trembled, too distraught to answer. Major General Reid stood to the side, the corners of his mouth turned down in disdain.

  “I have a proposition for you. Will you hear me out?” Prince Elric-Atherius asked.

  Her shoulders sank lower, and she gazed at his crotch. She tugged the potato sack lower over her thighs.

  Prince Elric-Atherius cleared his throat. “Not that kind of proposition.”

  She didn’t answer, only fidgeted with the iron manacles. Her wrists were raw where the metal had rubbed. Cold iron would poison her slowly, though it would go faster on open wounds such as what she had. Errol knew about slow death by cold iron from his father’s sickness.

  “I have been reading about Fae law concerning the treatment of royalty—and enemies during times of war. Because you are a princess, you may petition to speak with the king. He hasn’t come down here more than once, has he? Just the first time when Mother was here, is that correct?”

  She nodded.

  “And I would wager you haven’t asked to speak with him either.” Prince Elric-Atherius nodded decisively. “If you renounce your former sovereign and ask to join the Silver Court, the king has to at least listen to your request. Ask to see him. Beg for his mercy. Tell him you have changed your wicked ways and wish to serve him.”

  Errol could appreciate the prince’s heart being in the right place, yet he could see why the court thought him daft. For being in his late nineties, Prince Elric-Atherius was one of the naivest Fae Errol had ever met. He truly must have thought the world ran on sunshine and goodwill if he thought Princess Perrusia could convince his father so easily. And even if she could, there was his mother to contend with.

  The young woman began to sob.

  “Does this plan not please you?” Prince Elric-Atherius asked.

  “You mock me like the rest of your kin.” Her words were mumbled as if there was something wrong with her mouth.

  “I do not mock you,” Prince Elric-Atherius insisted. “I came here to do a good deed.”

  Errol was so distracted by what was happening on the other side of the door that the sound of footsteps didn’t register right away. The warmth of fire and the simultaneous chill of ice skated over Errol, rousing him from using enchantments so far from his body.

  Errol opened his eyes. Before him stood King Viridios, his expression unamused.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Staying Ahead of the Game

  The king was dressed in extravagant robes embroidered with silver and gold threads and encrusted with gems. He glittered like an ethereal creature not of this world. Glowing dragonflies danced around him.

  Errol bowed.

  “Where is my son?” King Viridios demanded.

  Errol considered his answer carefully. He didn’t wish to invoke the king’s wrath by lying, but he didn’t want the prince to get in trouble either. Prince Elric-Atherius was trying to do something good—even if he was doomed to fail.

  King Viridios glowered at Errol. “My son is not at my party. Nor is he in his room. Therefore, I have deduced he is attempting to see the prisoner. Am I correct?”

  Errol could see there was no way around it. “Your Majesty, I was shown a letter with your seal on it ‘proving’ you wished your son entry. I was ordered under duress by my superior officer to allow him inside.” Errol hoped he spoke loud enough that the prince would hear him from within. “He did give me his word that he wouldn’t kill the prisoner and give cause to anger you.”

  He didn’t expect this to go without punishment, but if there was anyone Errol trusted to hear him out and grant him justice, it was his king.

  “Open the door,” King Viridios said.

  The door was no longer locked now that Errol had given the keys to Major General Reid. Errol opened it and allowed his sovereign to pass. Prince Elric-Atherius leaned forward on the stool, speaking in hushed tones to the prisoner. His hand rested on her head, so much kindness in his eyes it was painful to witness.

  Errol remained in the doorway as the king strode toward his son.

  Prince Elric-Atherius’ eyes went wide as he caught sight of his father. He pushed Perrusia’s face against the crotch of his pants. Errol stared in confusion.

  “Oh dear,” Prince Elric-Atherius said. “You’ve caught me in a most embarrassing situation. Her head simply fell in my lap!”

  Errol saw the prince’s ploy.

  King Viridios crossed his arms. “You can cease this ruse. I know you better than that.”

  Prince Elric-Atherius released the young woman and allowed her to sink into a heap on the floor.

  King Viridios turned to Major General Reid. “How much gold did my son need to use to bribe you?”

  Reid bowed low. “Gold? I don’t know what you’re talking about, Your Highness.”

  The king snorted. “Your soul tastes of greed and dishonesty. The only magic that inspires you is coin.” He flicked a hand toward the major general.

  A glamoured purse toppled from his belt, and gold spilled onto the grimy floor.

  Magic sparkled around the king’s mouth as he spoke, an enchantment intertwining with his words. “May every piece of that gold you spend turn to misery and turmoil for your pitiful excuse for a soul.”

  Reid’s eyes went wide.

  King Viridios’ voice thundered. “Go on. Pick it up. You’re entitled to every cent of misfortune you’ve earned.”

  Reid reluctantly picked up the gold coins as the king watched. Prince Elric-Atherius sighed in defeat, toeing a chunk of something on the floor that might have been a piece of bone.

  Reid stood when he’d finished, his face red.

  “Give Captain Errol the keys to the dungeon. You are dismissed.” King Viridios said. “You are to leave this prison and leave my service. I have no need of men whose loyalty can be bought so easily.”

  Reid shoved the keys into Errol’s hands and strode out, head held high for someone with so little honor left.

  King Viridios looked to his son. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

  “Me? What do you have to say for yourself, allowing Mother and Quenylda to have their way?” Prince Elric-Atherius stood, gesturing at the woman doing her best to hide in her potato sack. “Are we no better than the Raven Court? Do we treat people like less than animals?”

  Princess Perrusia shrank back from both men. Errol didn’t blame her for not wanting to get caught between them.

  Each of the dragonflies circling the king snuffed out like candles extinguished by a breath. “I am king. I needn’t answer to anyone.”

  “How about your conscience? I would imagine you might at least answer to that.” Tears filled Prince Elric-Atherius’ eyes. “You know who had a conscience? Steorra. She wouldn’t have wished this treatment upon anyone—her worst enemies included. You’ve permitted Mother to torture Princess Perrusia to avenge Leofflaed’s death. The least you could do is honor the goodwill of your daughte
r by granting this poor wretch the mercy Steorra would have wanted for her had she been here to say so herself.”

  The air around the king fizzled and popped. Steorra had been a good person, her heart more generous than all her sisters’ and brothers’ combined—save for Prince Elric-Atherius’. She hadn’t deserved her fate, just as Prince Elric-Atherius didn’t deserve his. He was surrounded by a court of muses who killed everything beautiful they touched, even the artists they claimed to admire.

  The prisoner crawled forward on hands and knees, supplicating herself before the king. She mumbled something unintelligible. The king didn’t even notice her at first, his vehemence directed at his son.

  Elric-Atherius lifted his chin. “I believe the prisoner has something she would like to say to you.”

  “P-p-please, Your Majesty. I will renounce my sovereign and be part of your house. I will serve you. Have mercy on me.” Tears spilled down her cheeks.

  The king crossed his arms. “What nonsense have you filled her head with?”

  Prince Elric-Atherius explained the research he’d done.

  King Viridios shook his head. “Elric-Atherius, you are confined to your quarters. Servants will attend you. Go to your room and do not leave while I decide a fitting punishment for you.”

  Prince Elric-Atherius cast an apologetic glance at the woman and trudged out.

  “Back into your cell.” The king pointed as though she were a dog.

  Obediently, she crawled back to her cell. King Viridios bade Errol lock her cell door, which he did.

  The king sat down on the stool his son had vacated, looking like a fallen king with the world weighing down his shoulders. “Captain Errol, what shall I do with that son of mine?”

  “Is that a rhetorical question, Your Majesty?”

  King Viridios ran a hand over his face, rumpling his silvery beard. “He will never be a king. He’s too soft.”

  Errol wasn’t certain it was wise to converse boldly with his ruler, but he did so all the same. “Prince Elric-Atherius is the youngest. He doesn’t need to become a king. He has older siblings in line for the throne before him.”

  King Viridios gazed at the closed door of Perrusia’s cell. “Children die. Eventually the youngest become the oldest left alive.”

  At the rate the royal family killed each other, it might have been so.

  “I take full blame for all the faults in his character,” the king said. “Had I listened to my conscience, as he would call it, I would not have allowed my wife to switch him with a Morty babe as a changeling. If he had grown up here among his people, he would understand our ways. He would be stronger and able to protect himself.”

  “And those he loved,” Errol found himself saying before he could stop himself.

  The king was powerful and wise, but he didn’t understand people, especially not his son. Errol didn’t want to stick his nose where it didn’t belong, but he burned to explain the truth of the situation.

  If he was to fulfil his duty to his king and kingdom to his best ability, he couldn’t allow the wrongs that had been committed to not be addressed.

  “Prince Elric-Atherius would be able to protect those he loved had he been raised here. He would have been able to protect his sister. His mistress. His child.” Errol feared the king’s contemplative mood would change any second, and his mercurial nature would curse Errol for speaking out of turn. “He would have been able to protect them from his family.”

  Yet an injustice had been committed, and Errol yearned to fix it still, even if it caused his own suffering in the process.

  King Viridios sat taller and eyed him with interest. “You have figured it out, then, whereas he has not.”

  Errol nodded, his belly churning. “You know it, as well?”

  King Viridios gave a small nod. “His siblings see him as weak, which is why they target him. Anything he holds dear they break in the hope of making him stronger.”

  Errol wasn’t certain about that. As far as he could tell, they did it because they could. The royal family was beautiful and cruel. They didn’t value life, too spoiled and entitled to consider anyone but themselves.

  “It is a difficult thing to be raised among commoners and then be presented with so much luxury, so many changes.”

  Again, Errol doubted King Viridios understood the problem. Prince Elric-Atherius’s time among the Morties had set him apart from his siblings, but that wasn’t a fault. It was an asset. Even so, Errol answered, “Yes, Your Majesty.”

  “You yourself have lived a life of modest means. You have been a military man, fought in battles, and seen many places. Coming here to my palace, the grandeur and excess must have been a shock to you. But you are strong and skilled. You could survive anywhere. You could do anything.” King Viridios stood. His eyes shifted from gold to green. “Would you trade your current occupation for a life of leisure and luxury at court?”

  There was no leisure when every day was a battle within the court.

  Errol hesitated, uncertain whether the question was a trick. “I have no desire to leave my current occupation.”

  “If you were offered a title, riches, and a place among my family, would you do it? If I . . . adopted you as one of my children, would you accept?” King Viridios stepped closer, his expression grave.

  Errol suspected this was more than the musings of a king. He selected his words carefully. “It is an honor I am not worthy to accept. I think I should be happiest simply continuing in my career in the royal guard.”

  “Indeed. Your current occupation suits you, and you serve your kingdom well. I am pleased to hear it makes you happy.” The king frowned, not looking at all pleased. “If only I knew how to make my son happy.”

  “If I should be so bold as to make a suggestion . . . give him sovereignty over himself. Allow him to take leave of court life and make his own way in the world.”

  “If only it were that simple.” King Viridios stared off into the distance.

  Errol’s back ached under his wings, the wings he’d been granted for heroism, more than he could bear. In the silence, Errol could only think of the futility of his actions.

  He had at last told the king the secret that had probably gotten Princess Steorra murdered, and his sovereign had already known. King Viridios had allowed his children’s cruelty to escalate to multiple murders—and he had not punished them afterward.

  It all felt very wrong to Errol. This was not what he had imagined from the leader of his kingdom.

  Errol couldn’t even help Prince Elric-Atherius stay safe from his own family.

  King Viridios rounded on Errol, a wicked smile on his face. “Now it is time for your consequence.”

  “Aye, Your Majesty.” Errol bowed his head, waiting for his verdict.

  “From this time forth, it will be your duty to serve as this prisoner’s personal guard. You will select the watch, examine her food and ensure it isn’t poisoned or hexed, and take full responsibility for her welfare. No one is permitted in this chamber, except for me, the court physician, and the dungeon master. None of my family may enter. Do you understand me?”

  “Yes, Your Majesty.” Errol waited for the rest of his punishment to fall. “Is that all, Your Majesty?”

  “I should think what I’ve given you should be challenge enough.” King Viridios stepped before Errol, drawing a rune in the air before him. Blue light sizzled, the cold fire expanding and washing over Errol like ice water. “That will protect you from most Fae magic. Your wings should protect you from the rest—so long as you don’t disguise them with glamour or enchantments. Combined, your wings and my mark of protection should do the trick against my wife.” King Viridios chuckled as though he were letting Errol in on a joke. “She shall be your true punishment.”

  * * *

  King Viridios was correct. Queen Anwynn was Errol’s punishment—but not right away.

  Errol assigned duties to his battalion, tripling the dut
ies of the guards. He did as his sovereign commanded, checking the prisoner’s food himself. Anyone requesting entry had to see him first.

  That evening and the following, the castle was ominously quiet, a calm before the storm Errol knew would be coming.

  Most of the muses were too drunk on the energy of philosophers and theologians to bother with their other favorite pastime of torture. The following day they lay strewn about the castle like drunken sailors.

  That second evening, Queen Anwynn was refreshed and ready for a round of torture.

  King Viridios announced his intentions at that time over dinner. “You have diverted yourself long enough with our enemy. Now it is my turn. We will leave her be and allow her to heal. In three days’ time, I will summon her from the dungeon, and we will show her the meaning of mercy.”

  Queen Anwynn’s brows drew together in confusion. “By mercy, do you mean execute her?”

  King Viridios speared his salad and ignored his wife for the rest of the meal.

  Errol was excused from his normal guard duty to start his shift in the dungeon.

  Shortly after dinner, members of the royal family began to arrive, asking for entry to the dungeon. Each wished to show the prisoner their version of mercy. Errol turned them away. When he needed rest and couldn’t be there himself, he directed his men to have the royal family speak to him if they insisted on entry.

  Quenylda tried to seduce Errol and enchant him into letting her in. If Errol hadn’t been protected with the king’s magic, he might have succumbed, despite knowing what a cruel monster she was. Queen Anwynn grew so vexed when Errol denied her entry, she tried to burn him alive. Her magic bounced right off him, setting her silk gown on fire instead.

  When one of the men received the punishment of frostbite for turning Prince Cyneweard away, Errol feared what else the royal family would do to those under his command. He slept on a cot in the hallway.

  After three days of healing—expedited with magic—Princess Perrusia was summoned to the throne room. Errol escorted her there. She was mended enough to walk but given no clothes other than her potato sack. She pulled the bottom down to hide whatever modesty she had left and walked with her head down. She was a broken husk of what she had once been. The iron shackles clunked on the way up to the throne.