Magic Under Stone

including a generous pancake breakfast with the last of their blueberry jam, Ifra felt too guilty to impose on anyone else. He’d accepted a few of their apples and given them to Violet twice a day, enchanted to resemble the best foods he could think of, which rarely pleased her. They slept in sheds, barns, or abandoned cabins.

“Wait here.” Ifra dismounted and approached one of the food carts.

“Hello, traveler. Popcorn?”

Ifra wasn’t familiar with popcorn, but Violet was clapping her hands. He nodded, digging coins from his pocket. “Is it a holiday?”

The man grinned in a way that was more teeth than eyes. “Have you not heard, traveler? The Queen of the Longest Night’s come for the king. He named his son Belin as his successor. They’re not even waiting for the first day of spring for the coronation.”

Ifra turned back to Violet. Had she heard that? She was petting the horse. “The king’s… dead?”

The man nodded. “Where’ve you come from?” He looked cautious, clearly noting the fairy horse and Violet’s appearance-Ifra wasn’t sure if her fairy blood was obvious.

“Everywhere,” Ifra said, trying to calm his shock.

“Everywhere is close kin to nowhere,” the man said. Ifra wasn’t sure what that meant. He numbly accepted the paper cone overflowing with fluffy white kernels, glistening with butter, handing over a coin in response.

“Is there an inn here?” he said, struggling to keep composed.

“The big two-story building there.”

Ifra hurried back to Violet, stomping down the snow. She grabbed a huge handful of popcorn and shot her gaze heavenward with delight.

“King Luka’s dead,” Ifra said. “This is bad.”

“Luka or Belin, why does it matter?”

“Because Luka wasn’t as cruel as Belin is. I hoped we’d have a little more time.” Ifra swallowed. “I don’t want to go back to him. I don’t want to serve him.”

“You never told me Belin was crueler than Luka! I’m supposed to marry someone who’s cruel?”

“Luka wasn’t cruel, but it doesn’t matter now, not really,” Ifra said. “He was sort of ruthless, but not cruel.”

“Well, what do we do?”

“I don’t know. I need to think. Let’s see if there are rooms at the inn.”

The inn doubled as some sort of restaurant or pub. Beyond the small foyer with a spiral staircase and an empty desk, an intricately carved entranceway led to a room warmly lit by hearth and candles, full of fairies, singing and stomping.

Ay di day

We’ll gather up our swords

Ay di day

We’ll gather up the hoards

Ay di day

We’ll take to the roads

Down with the rebel king!

Violet looked up at him, her eyes glittering with excitement.

A bird flew from the rafters and off into the pub. Ifra watched it land on a girl’s shoulder, and she glanced back at the foyer and mouthed “Oh!”

She walked in, stuffing a rag in the waistband of her apron. “Are you in need of a room? They say there’s a storm coming.”

“Yes. Please, if you have any.”

“We have a couple left on the second floor. Over the pub. I’m not sure you’ll get a wink of sleep at a time like this, but…” She shrugged.

“That’s fine.”

Violet suddenly burst out, “Are you really going to take to the roads and march on the king?”

The girl’s cheeks flushed. “Oh… no, no, they’re not serious.”

“I’m Violet-”

Ifra covered her mouth. “Let’s see our room first and then maybe we can come have a drink.”

The girl gave them an odd look for a moment, and then unlocked a drawer and gave him a ring with a key on it. “It’s the last one down the hall, on the right. Five silvers. Show them your key downstairs and your dinner is on the house.”

“Thank you.” Ifra hustled Violet upstairs, hissing in a whisper, “Why were you going to tell them who you are?”

“Why does it matter? They’re my future subjects, and they hate the king!” She rolled back and forth on her toes. The music was pounding through the floorboards. “You told me about the Green Hoods and all that, but I never realized what it would really be like-people singing about the king! I bet if I walked into that pub right now and said I was a Tanharrow, they’d start singing for me. Maybe they’d go with us.” She gasped. “Maybe we could show up with an army!”

“Maybe that’s a horrid idea,” said Ifra. “What do you think Belin will do to me if we show up with an army?” He unlocked the door. The room was spare but clean, with two quilts on the bed and a rag rug on the floor.

“That bed is far too small,” Violet said. “Don’t they have any rooms with a larger bed?”

“I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“But then I’ll be cold.” She glared up at him suddenly. “Are you ever going to kiss me again?”

Ifra stared at her a moment, and she stared right back, her brown eyes firm and even indignant.

“Are you serious?” he said. “My master is now King Belin. You aren’t queen yet. He could change his mind about needing a Tanharrow on the throne. He could ask me to kill you. He could ask me to attack the Green Hoods, and I might take out an awful lot of them before they kill me. We have advantages, chances to win this, but we must be careful because there is a lot at stake. We have to consider what we’re doing. We can’t just charge into some town, tell everyone who you are, and get up an army.”

“But…”

“And you know what else? I am sick and tired of you being so ungrateful for everything that’s put before you. You complain about every meal and every bed you’re ever given, even when the people offering hardly have anything themselves. I am sorry-more sorry than I can ever express-about what happened with Erris and Celestina, and I know this is not an easy situation for you, but being a good queen isn’t about having everything handed to you on a silver platter. A good master wants his servants to be happy, and a good ruler wants the same for her subjects. There is give-and-take for the good of everyone.”

Violet sat down hard on the bed and started crying. Ifra stayed near the door. He probably shouldn’t talk to her like that. She likely would be queen, and his only hope of freedom, but, well, all the rules his tutor had drummed into his head clearly hadn’t been drummed hard enough.

“It’s not that I’m not grateful,” Violet snapped. “I just-” She broke off. More crying.

He was finding it increasingly uncomfortable to just stand there. “I’m going downstairs for some dinner. Join me when you feel better.”

The singing in the pub had ceased for the moment, but the talk was loud. Ifra found a table with two chairs and showed his key in return for a plate of roasted corn, sauerkraut and apples, squash soup with small red-speckled beans, and a cup of hard cider. The food smelled good enough to get his appetite going even as he fretted over Violet.

He really shouldn’t talk to her like that.

But, no, she needed to hear it. The Green Hoods deserved a good queen, and if he had destroyed Erris, the least he could do was put some sense into the last remaining Tanharrow.

I’m in way over my head.

He was halfway through the plate when Violet appeared in the doorway. She’d been wearing the same childish dress-gray with black velvet trim-for days. She kept her hair down now, not in bows, but she still looked like a lost child searching for her mother, although Ifra guessed the girl serving him was only a year or two older. Violet