Silver's Edge. Anne Kelleher

was already done. This one knew the mirror magic. Soon they all would, if they didn’t already. Steps would have to be taken to protect the Queen. “Would the lady receive me now?”

      She bid me tell you she will come to you at your convenience, great lord.

      There was nothing wrong with the gremlin’s attitude. He spoke with sufficient humility, not a hint of aggression or bad temper. But it galled Timias nonetheless to think that Delphinea may have unwittingly exposed the Queen to attack. He said nothing to the gremlin, of course. “Fetch your mistress, then.” He gathered his robes and turned away, unable to watch it step back through the glass.

      He fumed until a gentle cough behind him made him turn in time to see Delphinea step out of the frame in a rustle of heavy satin skirts. Her gown was the color of midnight skies, and tiny diamonds twinkled in the dark folds like stars. She had not been at Court long enough to have been infected by the fashion for growing wings, and indeed, the old-fashioned style of her gown precluded them, for a great lacy ruff rose from the back of the gown, framing her wide-eyed face and graceful neck in a style he had not seen since Gloriana first established the Court of Faerie. He wondered if the gown itself was meant to serve as a message of some sort, for Delphinea looked as if she’d stepped out of one of the tapestried panels which depicted the beginning of Gloriana’s glorious reign. And he wondered why Eponea had not come herself. But as lovely as the girl was, he could not control his annoyance. “My dear Lady Delphinea, you are a delight to look upon but I did not expect the pleasure of your company quite so soon. And, while it may be rude of me to be so direct with you, my lady, whatever possessed you to teach that detestable creature the mirror magic?”

      She paused in the very act of settling her skirts and raised her startling eyes to his. She met his gaze with a directness that bordered on insolence, and he felt a twinge of discomfort. What was it about this young girl-sidhe that was at once so compelling and so unsettling? Her words shocked him even more. “Petri is not at all detestable, my lord. He is a good and faithful servant to me, and his quick action saved the Queen much distress.”

      “I see.” He measured her up and down and decided that her honesty was not so much born of courage as an utter lack of artifice. She would speak her mind, until she learned the value of holding her tongue, a lesson she would learn soon enough at the cutting hands of the Court. And then it occurred to him that she resembled someone—someone not immediately obvious. He frowned, trying to remember what her mother looked like.

      The frown intimidated her and he saw that his assessment was correct. She was not so much insolent as she was innocent. Her mother had not taught her to lie at all. “Forgive me, Lord Timias, it was not my intention to intrude on you.” She stumbled over her words as she turned to look over her shoulder, into the mirror’s polished surface. So she’d been at Court long enough to know she could’ve been followed.

      He softened his gaze and extended his hand. “It’s no intrusion, my lady. But you must understand a gremlin is the last thing I expected to see stepping out of my mirror.” He frowned a little. “Is everything all right?”

      She reached up and drew the thick velvet curtains over the mirror. The network of mirrors within the castle meant that it was possible for the unscrupulous, the bored, and the curious to eavesdrop in any room a mirror hung, although to linger more than a minute or two was to risk the danger of becoming visible. Thus all mirrors were curtained. It was possible however, for a careful listener to overhear. He drew her through another door, into the antechamber of his suite, where all the walls were lined with long windows that overlooked his tiny gardens. He shut the door to his dressing room firmly. “Now you may speak freely, lady.”

      “My mother told me to seek you out, Lord Timias. The others don’t want to listen to me, but she said your loyalty to Faerie was unquestionable.”

      He bowed, reading as much as he was able in the fast play of emotions which swept across her face. She was too young, too unschooled in the ways of the Court to dissemble. And she was frightened. He could see that clearly. “I wish more on the Queen’s Council shared your sentiments, my lady.”

      “Ah—the Council.” She shook her head and walked to stand beside a window, gazing out into the garden below, small hands clasped before her. They were lost in the magnificence of the gown. A green marble fountain splashed merrily in the bright autumn sun, and tiny gold finches twittered among dark purple sage and golden snapdragons. “It’s all so beautiful, my lord. But since I’ve been here, I think I’m the only one who sees how fragile it is—how easily it could all be broken and brought down into ruin.”

      She turned and once again he was startled by the uniqueness of her beauty. Her hair was glossy and so black the highlights were blue. They matched her eyes, which were the color of the sapphires embroidered into the frilly frame around her sober face. “I believe there is something terribly wrong, my lord. Something terribly wrong within the land—within the fabric of Faerie itself. That’s what brought me to Court. My mother sent me here. Alemandine did not summon me.”

      Her words shocked him speechless for a moment. No one ever came to the Court unless at the express invitation of the Queen. To simply arrive without an invitation was a breach of such long-standing protocol no one but the Lorespinners remembered its origins. “What are you talking about, my lady?”

      “The reason I came to Court. You know I’ve never been here before?” She paused, as if putting her thoughts in order, then continued. “The Queen has not summoned a Council and no Convening has been called—for all are occupied with their own defenses and the raising up of their hosts. But I had to come—even my mother agreed—” She broke off, clearly too upset to continue.

      “What is it, my lady?” Her distress unnerved him, distracted him from remembering something much more important that continued to evade him.

      “The cattle are dying.” She said the words slowly, deliberately and he frowned. The great herds of milk-white cattle which roamed the hills and pastures of her mother’s mountain province provided the ultimate source from which so many Faerie delights were concocted. The herd had roamed for as long as anyone could remember over the rolling meadows, sheltered by the high mountain peaks, fed by the lush green acres of thyme and clover, and watered by the clear streams which ran down from the heights. The care and tending of this herd had passed in an unbroken line from mother to daughter for as long as anyone could remember. “The first time it happened—a few springs ago—our people came to my mother and asked her to come and see the body of a calf they’d found in one of the pastures. This calf—” She shuddered and turned her face away, as though from the memory. “It did not die a natural death, for I had never seen anything like it. The body was marked all over by a pox that oozed some greenish, foul-smelling pus. It was as if something ate it from the inside out. Then it didn’t happen again for a while, and we hoped that perhaps it was simply some odd incident. But then, just before Alemandine’s pregnancy was announced, last Midsummer Eve, there was a spate of such bodies and not just within the cattle herds. Birds, fish, the great cats that roam the highest peaks—we found these and more. One stream was fouled by the bodies, so thick did they lie. And then, my mother’s foals began to die. I came here for Alemandine’s help, never suspecting to find her so—so weakened.”

      Timias stared into her face, which was no less lovely for the worry that creased her forehead. “And you’ve no idea of the cause?”

      “Well…” She turned back to the window and crossed her arms, as though bracing herself. “I do. But everyone—including my mother—considers it so outlandish, no one will listen.”

      “A position I’ve found myself in more than once recently, my lady, as you saw this morning.” Timias bent toward her, gesturing with one hand in the general direction of the Council room. “You just heard me advocate the leading of a Faerie host into the Shadowlands, and you were kind enough to encourage the others to listen to me. How could I not do likewise?”

      The half smile that quirked across her lips was displaced immediately by a look of such gravity, Timias leaned forward as if to offer comfort. But Delphinea only spoke with that same simplicity that this time chilled his bones. “I think it’s the