“See, this is familiar ground,” I said, glancing to Tybalt. “We should have arranged for me to be arrested earlier. I always do so much better when I’m being arrested.”
“And yet you do so much damage to the hearts of the people who love you when you insist upon spending so much time in gaol,” said Tybalt stiffly. “If it is all the same to you, I would like for you to minimize your periods of incarceration.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” I turned back to the guard, who looked increasingly annoyed. There was a script that normally accompanied arrests, and I wasn’t following it. I wasn’t even following the basic themes of the play. “So I’m being arrested for sedition and treason, right?”
“That is correct,” said the guard. “Will you come quietly, or must we use force?”
“That depends. Where will we be going?”
“To King Rhys, that you might plead his mercy and receive your sentence.” The guard’s tone made it clear that pleading for mercy wouldn’t do me much good—although it might provide vital entertainment for the members of the Court, who didn’t seem to have much to do with their time.
“Straight to the King? No stops to have dungeon funtimes or examine your torture chamber?”
The guard blinked. “Yes. Straight to the King.”
“In that case, let’s go.” I smiled sunnily. One of the guards took a step back. The others looked like they wished they had the courage to do the same.
“Er,” said the lead guard.
“This is where you take us prisoner, despite the fact that I have diplomatic immunity and you can’t legally arrest me,” I said, in a helpful voice.
“I would prefer not to be taken prisoner, as I am a visiting monarch, but I will gladly accompany you as you lead my betrothed off to a travesty of justice,” said Tybalt. “Perhaps a second war can be declared today.”
“Stop sounding like that would be fun,” said Walther.
“Shan’t,” said Tybalt.
“Come with me,” snapped the lead guard, who had apparently realized that we could do this until the sun came up. The other three guards moved to form a rough circle around us, and together they led us into the garden.
It was a lovely area, all landscaped hedges and blossoming roses, some in colors I had never seen before, not even in Luna’s gardens. That had to be Ceres’ work. She had the advantage of age, and access to the test garden she’d been telling us about—and if she’d been nursemaid to the previous royal family, she must have been doing something for the new regime in order to retain her access to the palace and grounds. Tending the garden seemed like the easiest thing for her to do.
People strolled here and there along the garden paths and down the central promenade. There were too many of them for it to have been coincidence: they had come to watch my arrest. Some of them looked amused by the sight. Others looked disappointed, like I was supposed to be crying and trying to get away by this point. I considered telling them that I’d been arrested by the best, and that their palace guard needed to step it up, but decided against it. There was no point in taunting the men who’d been sent to get me. They were just doing their jobs, and it’s never a good idea to needlessly antagonize people with swords.
One thought led inexorably to another. I snorted. Tybalt gave me a sidelong look. “What is it now?” he asked.
“Just thinking about how long it’s been since I’ve managed to wind up covered in blood,” I said. “It’s like a new trend. A blood-free trend.”
“Pray keep it up; I find it a refreshing change,” he said.
I laughed, and we kept walking.
The guards didn’t like the fact that we weren’t treating the whole situation as dire and filled with ominous portent: I could tell that from the way they looked at me, stealing glances out of the corners of their eyes as they waited for me to break down and start crying. I smiled when I caught them looking at me, but I didn’t taunt them or laugh in their faces. Under the circumstances, that seemed like the best that I could do.
Of the three of us, Walther came the closest to behaving the way he was expected to behave. He walked silently, watching the faces of the people we passed like he thought he could uncover the secrets to the Kingdom if he just looked deeply enough. He didn’t look like a defeated man, but he definitely looked like a man who’d been hit more times than was fair, and was still trying to recover his footing.
More guards met us at the entrance to the castle, presumably to make sure we didn’t try anything in the presence of the King. I smiled politely as they joined the formation around us, and we walked, en masse, to the receiving room doors.
Marlis was already waiting there, her face composed into a mask of utter disdain. “You are entering the presence of His Highness, King Rhys of Silences,” she said. “Should any of you raise hand or voice against the King, the penalty will be sleep for one hundred years. Should any of you present a clear and present danger to the King, the penalty will be sleep for one hundred years. Should any of you refuse the justice of the Crown, you shall have no recourse. Do you understand?”
I tried to meet her eye, to figure out whether she was back under the King’s control, but I couldn’t manage it. That, more than anything, convinced me that she was still free. She was being too careful to have been anything else.
“We understand,” I said. “We do not accept this arrest, but we understand.”
“Then enter, and plead your case before the King,” said Marlis. The doors swung open, apparently independent of any hand, and the guards moved through, pulling us with them.
As soon as the last guard was past the doorway, the doors slammed shut, rattling their frame with the force of their closure. I didn’t look back to see if Marlis had accompanied us. My attention was fixed on the front of the room, and on the feeling of slow rage blossoming in my chest like a poisonous flower. King Rhys was there, as I had expected, sitting on his throne like he belonged exactly where he was. The false Queen was next to him, a smug smile on her pale face. Neither of them was worthy of my attention, or my outrage.
It was only when I looked at the people standing in front of the dais that my anger found a purpose. May and Quentin were off to the side, their hands bound in front of them with delicate-looking loops of morning glory vine. As I watched, Quentin shifted positions and grimaced, looking pained. Whatever that vine was, it was nothing as innocuous as morning glory. It was hurting them.
“Sir Daye,” said King Rhys, rising. He struck a pose that was worthy of the King he was pretending to be: feet apart, shoulders square, arms crossed over his chest like his disapproval was his most powerful weapon. His guards continued marching us toward the throne, and he watched us come with a disappointed look on his face, clearly heartbroken by my supposed betrayal.
Bastard. “King Rhys,” I replied. I didn’t bow. He had lost the privilege of having me bow to him. “You want to tell me what this is all about? I’m here under the hospitality of your house. Maybe you do things differently in Silences, but in the Mists, we don’t arrest our guests unless they’ve actually done something wrong.”
“You have done something wrong,” said Rhys, still sounding profoundly disappointed. We had let him down; we had failed to live up to his lofty ideals. And if I had possessed any respect for the man whatsoever, that might have mattered to me. Sadly, under the circumstances, all he was doing was pissing me off. “You have plotted treason against my throne; you have brought seditious elements into my demesne. How do you plead, Sir Daye? What possible excuse can you have for what you have done?”
I folded my own arms, feeling a little silly in the trailing sleeves the false Queen had saddled me with. It’s hard to look like a force to be reckoned with when wearing something that a Disney princess would think was cute. “Since no one’s told me what I’ve done, I plead get your head out of your ass and start explaining yourself. I’m here to prevent a war, remember? What good would plotting treason do? I didn’t bring an army. I don’t even know how we’re getting back to the Mists if you don’t open a portal for us.” The bus, probably. Greyhound would be a real adventure with this bunch. “Also, there’s the whole ‘diplomatic immunity’ aspect of things. I have it, and so do my people. Plus we’re not your subjects, so while we can plot insurrection, we can’t be guilty of treason.”