The Dire King Read online

  “What?” I said. “That’s ridiculous!”

  “Is it?” said Dragomir. “You should tell that to the refugees cowering in this house. The kingdoms of the Annwyn are not happy about you humans right now. They’re not happy with Arawn, either. They are saying that the fair folk aren’t strong enough to hold the barrier any longer. They are saying that the fair folk used to have powerful leaders. Hafgan was strong. They are saying Hafgan could’ve held the barrier.”

  “That’s utter lunacy!” I said. “Hafgan’s acolytes are the ones trying to tear it down!”

  “That’s not how I hear it. Anyway, it doesn’t matter. The Om Caini are neutral. We stay out of politics. If I did choose sides—which I won’t—then you might not like the side I choose, girl.”

  “This isn’t about politics, Uncle Dragomir,” Charlie pressed. “It’s about principles. It doesn’t matter what side you’re on; the Dire King is a hateful, dangerous force—and if he is not opposed, he will bring death and destruction to all sides. The earth and the Annwyn are going to tear each other apart.”

  “I sometimes wonder if that would not be for the best,” said Dragomir coldly. “A culling. A flood, like the old days. Tomorrow’s forest grows stronger for yesterday’s fire, does it not?” He huffed. “This is not our war. We’re leaving, Kazimir. We only came to fetch you and be on our way. Come.”

  “What?” Charlie and I both managed at the same time.

  “I can’t leave now,” said Charlie. “Tell my father—”

  “Your father is dead,” Dragomir barked. Charlie froze, speechless. Slowly his expression crumbled. Dragomir ground his teeth and closed his eyes. When he opened them again, his voice was softer. “Your father is dead, and your people need you—or have you spent so much time with humans you have forgotten your loyalty?” He narrowed his eyes in my direction.

  “I know what it is to be loyal.” Charlie stood his ground. “And I have spent enough time with humans to know what it is to be honorable, as well. I loved my father, but the House of Caine is not even a house—not any longer. Maybe it was once. But now—” He looked down, pained. “I am tired of running away from the world, Uncle. I swore an oath to this city. This is my home to protect. My peace to keep. I can’t abandon them now.”

  Dragomir gave a gravelly sigh. “I warned your parents about you when you were still small. I saw it in you even then. I am only grateful they did not live long enough to see you turn on your family like this. It would have broken their hearts.”

  “That’s enough!” Alina spoke out at last. “Both of you! Some peacekeepers you are. You can’t see each other for five minutes without snarling at each other’s throats.”

  Dragomir sneered. “Let him have his way. We will tell our people that their wandering Kazimir has chosen this over his own family. Come, Alina. We are done here.”

  “No.” Alina stood rooted to the floorboards. “I lost my father—I am not leaving without my brother.”

  “Alina, he’s right,” said Charlie, delicately. “It isn’t safe for you here, not now. You should go back with Uncle.”

  “No. Not without you.” She crossed her arms and sat back down on the bench.

  “Alina,” Dragomir commanded. “You will do as you are bid!”

  “You are not my father,” she said. “And you are not the Suveran, no matter how much you might wish it. I did not travel halfway around the world to watch you two yap at each other and then turn around and go home with my tail between my legs.”

  Dragomir’s shoulders rose and fell and he took several slow breaths. “You two are too young to know your own stupidity. I was not much older when your father and I faced the torches and pitchforks in Belgrade. You are not the first of our kind to give them a chance, Kazimir. Our people will never be safe around them.”

  Charlie looked down miserably.

  “You stood by Father’s side then,” said Alina. “Let me stand by my brother’s now.”

  “Argh!” Dragomir shook his head. “You are so much like your mother! I forget sometimes how stubborn she could be. Always so . . . so . . . How do you say . . . ?”

  “Dogged.” Alina gave him a sly smile. “I will be safe, Uncle. My Kazimir is here. I will bring him home. He will listen to me.”

  Dragomir allowed himself a hint of a smile. He waggled a finger at his niece. “Dogged,” he said. “Yes, you are. Fine. See if you cannot make the idiot pup see reason. I wash my hands of the both of you.”

  In spite of his bluster, before he left he cupped Alina’s head in his hands and kissed her forehead. “Ai grija de tine,” he whispered. He straightened his furs haughtily and pulled open the door, pausing once more before he stepped through it. “And you.” He jabbed a finger at Charlie. “Don’t be so stupid.”

  “Who’s stupid?” The sound of Hank Hudson’s voice made Dragomir jump. He spun as the trapper mounted the front step right in front of him. “Oh, hey, nice coat. That bearskin?”

  Dragomir bristled and pushed past the trapper without reply.

  “Ray o’ sunshine, isn’t he?” Hudson jabbed a thumb at Dragomir’s retreating figure. “Well, you ready to hit the road, Chuck?”

  “Chuck?” said Alina with a sour face.

  “Charlie,” I said.

  “His name is Kazimir Caine,” said Alina, watching the trapper with leery eyes.

  “News to me,” said Hudson. “Charlie Barker suits our boy just fine.” Hudson patted Charlie firmly on the back. Charlie winced.

  “Barker?” Alina raised an eyebrow.

  “It is necessary,” Charlie said. “And . . . I sort of like it.”

  “So, who’s the little lady?” Hudson asked. “Friend of yours?”

  “This is my sister,” Charlie said.

  “Okey-dokey. She stayin’ at the house, too?”

  “She really should not.” Charlie turned pleadingly back to his sister. “Alina, you can still catch up with Uncle Dragomir—”

  “I did not just ride in the belly of a great stinking ship for weeks to go chasing after Uncle Dragomir,” she said. “Are you so eager to leave me again?”

  “No, no, it’s not that.” Charlie looked miserably conflicted. “We are in the middle of something very important. Look, if you are going to stay, then stay here at the house. The city is . . . not itself lately. I need to go out for a while, but this house is safest, for now. More or less.”

  “Do mind the spriggans on the staircase,” I said. “And the Dangerous Documents section. And avoid the whole north wing of the second floor. In fact, maybe it’s best if you just stay with me. I would be happy to show you around.”

  Alina looked at me as though she were deciding whether to swat at me with the heel of her boot or catch me under a drinking glass and shoo me outside. “I am not staying here with this woman,” she said.

  “This woman is Abigail Rook,” Charlie said. “And she is my—my friend. I would trust her with my life. In fact, I have. Very recently. Miss Rook, may I formally introduce my sister, Alina.”

  “A pleasure,” she mumbled, casting me a smile that could wither daisies.

  “I’m sure we’ll get on splendidly,” I said, trying to sound cheery. “I’ll take you to see the duck pond; that might be nice.”

  “I have seen duck ponds.”

  “Ours is on the third floor,” I said through gritted teeth. “And there are centaurs. Have you seen that?”

  “Ipotanes,” corrected Jackaby, bustling into the room. “The centaurs were relocated to the back garden.” He was stuffing his arms through the sleeves of his battered old coat.

  “Oh! Mr. Jackaby, I would like you to meet—” Charlie began.

  Jackaby glanced up. “A fellow Om Caini, yes, I see. Very close genetic line. Sister?”

  “Er—yes. Alina, this is Mr. R. F. Jackaby, he—”

  “—is off to ensur
e that the streets of our fair city are free of the wandering corpses of the undead,” Jackaby finished. “Sorry, Miss Lee is already waiting for me. I really have no time for all that How are you? I am fine, thanks. Here’s another inane question. Here’s an equally banal reply. Charmed. Delighted. nonsense.”

  “They’re called niceties, sir,” I said. “People say them.”

  “They’re stupid. And people are stupid.” He paused at the front door. “Come to think of it, the word nice used to mean stupid, so I suppose that’s apt.”

  “Good-bye, Mr. Jackaby,” I said. “Do be careful.”

  “Right.” He tossed open the door. “Don’t forget to feed the pixies and to interrogate the murderess in the cellar. Oh, and the azalea could use some watering.”

  And then he was gone, the cheery red door banging shut behind him.

  “We oughta be goin’, too, chum,” said Hudson. “I got the horses waitin’ out front.”

  Charlie nodded. “If you will not return home with Uncle Dragomir, promise me you will wait here at the house until I get back?” he implored Alina.

  “Where I am safe, you mean?” she said. “With the humans and the giants and the—what was that about a murderess in the cellar?”

  Charlie cringed. “Yes, with those. I’ll be back this evening,” he said. “And then we will talk. Like we used to.” Charlie leaned in and put his forehead against Alina’s. “I promise.”

  Alina sighed. “Go, then. I will wait for you. I have plenty of practice.”

  Hudson pulled open the door. Charlie slid away from Alina and turned to me. “Miss Rook,” he said, his eyes looking agonized as he hunted for the words to fill the awkward pause.

  “We’ll have our time,” I said, putting a hand to his chest and hoping I was telling the truth. “Be safe.”

  Charlie stepped out into the daylight, and Hudson gave us all a quick wave as he closed the door behind them.

  Chapter Twelve

  By the time I finally found myself plodding across the back garden to interrogate Morwen Finstern, my patience for contrary company had been worn threadbare. In spite of my best efforts, the tour I had given Alina had quickly become a long, sullen march punctuated only by sighs and peevish observations. Jenny had caught up with us and suggested I give the girl a chance to be involved rather than simply kept out of the way, to which Alina had agreed without enthusiasm. Happy to take anything short of patent disgust as a glowing endorsement, I consented, and so we made our way toward the cellar together.

  I drew the iron key out of my pocket as we approached the cellar door. The ipotanes paid us no mind, grazing casually on the ivy and the drooping azaleas. As I drew my key toward the heavy iron lock, I paused. There were voices coming from within. Morwen’s I recognized at once, but then there came, very softly, another voice. It was muffled, indistinct. Morwen’s followed it. “I will,” was all she said.

  “Why are you waiting?” asked Alina, behind me. She was holding a plate with a bruised apple and a slice of leftover kunafah I had thrown together as today’s rations for the nixie. I would not typically have wasted such exquisite fare on our unwilling guest, but Shihab had not produced anything unpleasant enough to fit the bill, and with Alina in tow, I did not feel up to cooking an entire meal just for the sake of its being awful. On the other hand, that particular slice of pastry had fallen on the floor earlier, which made me feel a little better about feeding it to Jenny’s killer.

  “Shh. There’s someone else in there,” I whispered. “Jenny, do you think you could peek inside before I open the door?”

  “The cellar is safeguarded.” She shook her head. “The wards that Jackaby put up against evil spirits work just as well on me, I’m afraid.”

  “The direct approach it is, then.” I jammed the key in the lock and pulled open the door.

  Morwen sat alone in the pool of light, squinting as we climbed down into the clammy cellar. “Lunchtime already?” she said. “More overcooked onions, I assume?”

  “No onions this time. Just a little dust and scruffy pony hair,” I said. “Who were you talking to?”

  Morwen smiled. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

  “Yes, I would. Which is why I asked.”

  Morwen ignored the question and glanced between the three of us. “It’s good you brought the whole entourage—there’s safety in numbers. Wouldn’t want an innocent little girl tied to a chair to hurt you, now would you?” As she said it, Morwen’s features fluidly shifted, making her look even younger than Alina, blinking up, doe-eyed and pouty-lipped. “I’m ever so frightful, aren’t I?”

  “Nobody is impressed,” I said. I was, a little. After all, watching a shape-shifter transform before your very eyes is a mesmerizing spectacle, even if the woman behind the face is a monster—but I wasn’t about to admit that to Morwen.

  Morwen shrugged, her features rapidly aging to settle back into her usual visage. “Not impressed, perhaps—but I have got you nervous, now, haven’t I? You should be. My father has already sent for me.” Morwen smiled wickedly.

  “Really?” I said. “He seemed much more interested in picking up some new accessories than in rescuing his daughter. Did you hear he has a shiny new hat to go with his spear?”

  “The Dire Crown is not a hat,” said Morwen. “It is a manifestation of his power and glory.”

  “Do you know what I think?” I replied. “I think that now that he has the whole set, he doesn’t need you at all. It was the shield that really tied the ensemble together, don’t you think?”

  Morwen sneered. “Your lies are pitiful. He doesn’t have the—” She caught herself.

  “Doesn’t have the shield yet?” I finished for her. “No, I didn’t think so, but it’s nice to have that confirmed. I do appreciate your being so candid today.”

  “You don’t even know what you don’t know,” she hissed. “I will kill you last, I think. You’d better tell all your little friends to sleep with one eye open.”

  “Like ducks,” I said, casually.

  Morwen faltered. “What?”

  “Ducks sleep with one eye open. Douglas does, anyway, so I guess I don’t need to tell him to. Mr. Jackaby doesn’t tend to sleep much at all, and when he does it’s with his third eye open whether he likes it or not, so that’s him covered as well. Jenny—well, you know very well that you couldn’t harm Jenny even if she ever did sleep. Which reminds me,” I added conversationally, “do you remember the last time you threatened everyone? And then she hit you?”

  Morwen glowered at me.

  “With a bathtub?” I added, helpfully. “Through a wall?”

  “It rings a bell,” Morwen growled icily.

  “It certainly rang yours,” Jenny added.

  “Get your kicks in while you can,” Morwen said. And then she did something thoroughly unnerving. She smiled. It was the absolute confidence of it. The only other person I had ever seen who could maintain such unflappable calm while chained up as a prisoner was Mr. Jackaby. On Morwen, the attitude was far more ominous. “I will be out of here by morning,” she added.

  “You sound awfully sure of yourself for someone who’s been peeing in a hole in the dirt all week,” said Jenny.

  “Aw. Don’t get all sentimental just because you’re going to miss me, Jennybean,” Morwen taunted. “I might just have to take a . . . souvenir to remember you all by. How about your new friend here? She’s cute, isn’t she?” Morwen’s strawberry blond curls rippled and darkened, and suddenly she was looking up at us with Alina’s face. “The council could make good use of you, little girl.”

  Alina staggered back a step, shaken, and the apple rolled off the plate and into the corner.

  “Or how about the other one.” The nixie turned her eyes on me. “That dog-boy who keeps trotting after you? What’s he called again?” She wavered, and suddenly Charlie was sitting before us. “Mees
Roook,” she mocked. The face was spot on, but her voice talents were lacking something when it came to impersonating men. “Don’t let the beeg bad neexie take mee!”

  “You’re not going anywhere,” I said evenly. “And you’re not taking anyone with you. Now, you’re going to tell us—”

  The plate clattered suddenly on the ground, flaky pastry sliding to one side, and Alina rushed up the stairs and back out into the light.

  “Alina, wait,” I called.

  “Something I said?” Morwen grinned wickedly.

  I glanced up at the doorway and back at Morwen. “We’ll finish this later.”

  We found Alina in the garden, slumped at the foot of the weeping willow. The centaurs had edged away toward the side of the house, and the garden was peaceful and quiet.

  Jenny hovered beside her. “Alina,” she said, soothingly. “You can’t let Morwen get to you. She likes to wriggle under your skin until you’re not yourself anymore.”

  “Why?” Alina shook her head. “I don’t understand!”

  “It’s just the way she is. She—”

  “Not the nixie. I don’t care about the nixie. Why is my brother part of this?” She looked up at me, her eyes more angry than afraid. “She said it—Kazimir goes trotting after you. Why?”

  “She was only being spiteful,” I said. “Charlie and I help each other. Nobody is trotting after anyone.”

  “I’ve seen the way you look at him. This is your fault, isn’t it?”

  “My fault?”

  “Why don’t you leave him be? Kazimir is not like you! He is not one of you! He deserves better than . . . than . . . than this!” She threw up her hands. “Our father was Suveran—do you even know what that means? It means Kazimir is heir to the House of Caine! He is born to rule our people, not to play lapdog to some human cur.”

  I ground my teeth. “Charlie chose this! Charlie chose me. If you really love your brother, maybe you should stop hating the world that he has chosen to be a part of. What do you have against humans, anyway? You’re half human yourself!”