Jennifer Armintrout - Queene Of Light

In the silence, so crashing after his outburst, Garret listened to his sister’s muffled weeping. It sent a dagger through his heart. Curse her for making him so vulnerable with such poor playacting. But he knew his role well, and knew he would not achieve his ends if he did not participate in her disgusting performance. She had sunk to her knees on the cold, stone floor and he went to her, kneeling beside her to put his arms around her, ever the strong, supportive brother. “There now, I did not mean to be angry with you.”

“I have done everything in my power to keep her from you,” Mabb wept against his shoulder. “So many times I have sent her on assignments knowing in my heart the task would be the death of her, and still she lives to take you from me. To take the throne from me.”

It was not true, but Garret would not tell her so. Those assignments had gone to more qualified Assassins, and it was the Guild Master who had done it. Not out of malice for his Queene or from any pressing by Garret, but because the Assassins were his charge. It was his duty to keep them from harm, and he would not send an Assassin on a mission if he knew them to be unprepared for it. On Garret’s end, he had kept Ayla woefully unqualified for the most dangerous assignments, but what he had failed to teach her she had learned on her own from watching the other students. That was, perhaps, her only flaw. She was a bit too intelligent. It was another quality he tried to tamp down in her. No sense in letting a common half-breed think above her natural capacity.

“Mabb, I will never be able to take the throne from you. You would have to die first, and that is something I would prevent with every last part of myself. I merely desire some of the happiness that has eluded me. Remember how Mother and Father were, how they loved each other?” Another lie. Their parents had barely spoken to each other. But in the centuries since their death, Mabb had romanticized the Sidhe Court. It helped that the rending of the veil had destroyed any evidence of the bitter feud between the former Queene and King. Without anyone to correct her, Mabb had lost herself in the love story she had constructed for their parents, the grand tales she told of events at Court that had never happened. Her subjects were just as desperate as she, and if they could not have happiness in the present, they were content to rewrite history.

She sniffled against his sleeve and gripped his arm, pulling it tighter around her. “Yes, I do. And I wish you all the happiness in the world. But you know me to be a selfish creature. I want to keep you for my own happiness.”

“You will never lose me.” That was a sad truth. No matter how he might try to escape her control, only death would free Garret from his sister. He cursed the immortality of the Fae. “I will always be here for you.”

“I will let you have your silly half-breed.” Mabb sat up, wiping her eyes. “But not tonight.”

“Why not?” Garret demanded, then forced a more neutral tone. If he angered her it would undo all the painstaking work he had just done. “You understand I am eager to tell her the joyous news.”

Turned to stone once again, Mabb glided across the room to the writing desk. She withdrew a sheet of parchment, sealed by her own hand and addressed to Ayla. “She has an assignment.”

“Then I shall deliver it to her.” He turned to go, eager to see what fresh torment his sister had laid upon his student—no, he thought, my mate, and that cheered him some—and how he might manage to avoid it.

“Deliver it to her, and then return to me.” Mabb settled onto her bed, though she had only just risen from it. “And send in my healers. This argument has taken a grave toll on me. I so detest this family strife.”

“I will return to you,” he promised warily. “But I will take Ayla as my mate tonight. I have waited long enough.”

Mabb laughed at this, a sound like crystals singing. “You assume she will have you.”

“She will.” Of that, he was more than certain. He hadn’t spent the past five years grooming her to be his only to allow her to refuse him.

He tucked the assignment into his robes and left his sister to play the part of the invalid. In the antechamber he dispensed curt orders for Mabb’s healers and ladies-in-waiting, then fled the stifling order of the Palace altogether. No space in the Underground was big enough for him now that his heart soared with joy for the victory he had won. By morning, Ayla would be his mate, declared before the council and consummated in his bed. The anticipation spurred his steps faster on his way to the Assassins’ Guild.

Though Ayla did not get much sleep, what she did manage was deep, and she felt rested enough when she rose from her narrow bunk. It was far too late in the day for a trip to Sanctuary. If she went now, she would miss the chance to report before the Guild Master and pay for it later. She bathed in the cistern and scrubbed the blood and grime from her pants and vest. Sanctuary could wait, but her report could not.

Or her conversation with Garret. She’d decided on her course of action regarding her failure in the Darkworld, without the guidance of prayer. She would tell him the truth, or at least the brand she found it easiest to sell to him. She had been weak, foolish and not intending harm. He might rage a bit, but in the end he would forgive her and smooth things over both with the Guild Master and the Queene. It was not the most honorable way, asking Garret to excuse foibles she was certain she did not have, but perhaps her lie was for the best. It afforded her a fresh start. The promise she’d broken to the Guild and to herself would mend in time, through her actions and personal discipline.

This was the thought she intentionally circled through her mind as she headed to the Great Hall.

The Great Hall of the Assassins’ Guild was crowded for this afternoon’s assembly. Beneath the high-reaching cement columns that used to arch over the heads of Human travelers hurrying to their trains, Faeries, Elves, Orcs and Dwarves milled in their own clusters. Some sat on the rows of benches in the center of the room, waiting for their turn to report. Others were Guild Members and courtiers who had nothing to report but liked to listen to the grisly recounts to be “in the know.” The best gossip came from the Guilds, or so Ayla had heard. Mabb had increased the number of assignments in the past days to combat the growing threat of the Darkworld forces infiltrating the Lightworld. There were rumors already of Darkworld Assassins stealing across the border and striking lone sentries. Retaliatory strikes were called for, though the Assassins often grumbled that the cycle would never cease. Ayla did not listen to such criticisms. Her place was to follow the Queene’s orders, not question them.

Pushing through the larger-than-usual throng, Ayla caught sight of Garret’s dark head. He spoke with another mentor, and appeared to be in high spirits. The Faery smiled and bowed to Garret, and he clapped him on the back with a wide grin. Ayla wondered what could have caused such joy in her mentor, then she spied the folded parchment in his hand and the Queene’s seal upon it.

An assignment! Ayla’s heart swelled. From Garret’s apparent elation, it was an important one, as well. And why shouldn’t he be pleased that his student finally received her due? The mentor who had been speaking with Garret noticed Ayla. He motioned toward her, catching Garret’s attention. When he turned and spied her there, his smile grew even larger, if possible. “Ayla, I have wonderful news.”

As he approached and the mentor withdrew, Ayla’s mind wandered back to the reason she’d sought him out in the first place, and her heart sank. For a moment she wondered if she should take the new assignment and confess after, but no, she would then have to recant her report to the Guild Master and her credibility would be lessened. Before he could speak again, she blurted, “I did not fulfill my last assignment.”