Sanna’s eyes widened and she sat on the floor, her cry dying a horrible death. She shot an unreadable look to her fellow prisoner.
Clíodhna stood. “I called you both here to answer for your crimes against Queen Áine. I judge you both guilty of rebellion, but I would allow you to say something on your behalf, should you wish.”
Sanna hissed, while Wannaig bowed his head once with solemn dignity.
Bodach opened his mouth, but Clíodhna spoke first. “Very well. As leaders of this rebellion, I hereby sentence you to banishment from Faerie. You are to dwell in the mortal world for seven of their cycle of seasons. Upon your return, I shall require a renewal of your vow of loyalty.”
Her Consort yanked on her arm. “My Queen! Your punishment is much too lenient! They’ll only foment rebellion again with their followers, many of whom reside in the mortal realm! Execution is the only answer here.”
Clíodhna turned to him and in a clear voice, said, “Bodach, you will be silent unless I request your counsel.”
Bodach’s eyes grew wide. He still held her hand and this time, he tried to withdraw it, but she kept it tight. He settled back into his throne with a sulky expression.
Wannaig’s voice remained calm. “Your judgment is fair, my Queen. I give you my vow now, should you wish to accept it.”
Sanna wasn’t as accommodating. She raised one shaggy eyebrow. “Where must we go in the mortal world? Can we choose our home?”
“You may choose the area in which you wish to dwell. I have no preference or command. However, your behavior will be monitored. If you are acting against my interests, I will discover this perfidy.”
With a wave of her hand, Sanna dismissed that concern. “I’ve done my protest. Now I want to be by myself for a while.” She turned to glare at her captors. “Take me to a passage now.”
The guards glanced at Clíodhna for approval and she gave it for both of them. “Seven cycles of the season. I will send an emissary to inform you when you can return.”
When they’d left the hall, Bodach snatched his hand from hers. “You are a fool!”
“You will address me as your Queen or your Grace, as you prefer, Consort. Now leave. I have other matters to attend.”
Bodach growled and for a moment, Clíodhna thought he would attack her. He took a step forward and five guards stepped forward, each one stamping the butt of their spear on the floor in a precisely timed beat. The bark-skinned Fae glanced at the attending guards and growled again, stomping off in a huff.
Grimnaugh whispered, “That went better than I’d expected, your Grace.”
“They only wanted their concerns addressed. Their concerns died with the prior Queen. As the new Queen, they have no quarrel with me.”
Grimnaugh frowned, scratching behind his ear. “It didn’t hurt that you’ve befriended much of their people. In a way, they fought for you.”
Clíodhna swiveled to face him, anger hard in the grim line of her lips. “Never say that again, Grimnaugh, not even jest.”
His eyes grew wide. “Yes, my Queen.”
Chapter Eleven
When Grimnaugh returned from his first diplomatic mission, he came with dragging feet and a forlorn expression. His clothing looked ripped and dirty and his head bowed. Clíodhna didn’t need to ask if he’d had success. The answer was clear in every line of his body.
Thankful the court cleared as the courtiers all took their rest, she led him to her antechamber to give his report. Bodach had gone off to who knew where, and Clíodhna relished the respite.
The chamber, while much smaller than the throne room, remained large enough to hold twenty people. Rose vines covered the walls on a delicate lattice.
Clíodhna sat on the cushioned couch and gestured for him to sit in the visitor’s chair. “Am I to conclude that Queen Aoibheall has no wish to take part in an alliance?”
He closed his weary eyes. “You could come to that conclusion. I arrived at her court and met first with her Seneschal, then her Consort, and finally approached her at court. She gave no hint of her thoughts in her expression during my entire presentation. When I finished, she let the silence build until it grew almost painful.”
Clíodhna considered such a technique a powerful tool and stored it for future reference.
“When she spoke, she used a single word. ‘No.’ Then she lifted her hands and brought them down, as if throwing something. As soon as her arms went up, I turned and ran. I’d heard of her preferred rejection in the past and had no intention of becoming a victim.”
A servant brought in a platter of fruit. She refrained from a response until he had left. She picked up a sweet, purple fruit and bit into it, after offering Grimnaugh the same. He took one but simply held it.
After she wiped the juice from her cheek, she asked, “Her preferred rejection?”
“She blasted me with a ball of fire! I only missed getting roasted by running back and forth rather than in a straight line. I barely escaped and my clothing got singed.” He held up a battered tunic with unmistakable burn marks down one side.
Clíodhna stood, anger prickling her skin. The sky darkened, despite its lack of clouds. “She attacked you? She attacked my emissary?”
Grimnaugh’s gaze flicked to the sky in panic. “My Queen! Please, don’t react so. This is a mild rebuke for your request. Queen Aoibheall is well known for her temper. It isn’t worth reacting to.”
She crossed her arms, and fixed him with a gimlet
