"Nicnevin forced him to kill," Silarial said quickly.
Kaye let the anger she felt bleed into her voice. "Now you're forcing him.”
Roiben's words carried over the field. "Since it seems that the crown of the Bright Court will come to you after your death, tell me upon whom you wish to bestow it. Let me do this last thing for you as your brother.”
Relief flooded Kaye. There was a plan. He had a plan.
"Hold!" Silarial shouted, leaping up from her makeshift throne and striding out onto the field. "That was not part of the bargain." As she passed through the ring of herbs, they caught with greenish fire.
Wailing rose from the Unseelie folk while the Bright Court went deathly silent. Roiben stepped back from his sister, taking the blade from her throat. Ethine fell back in the snow, turning her head so that no one might see her face.
"Neither was your interrupting this fight," he said. "You may not reconsider our bargain now that it no longer favors you." His words silenced the Unseelie Court's cries, but Kaye could hear the rest of the crowd murmur in confusion.
Ethine stumbled to her feet. Roiben extended his hand to help her, but she didn't take it. She looked at him with hate in her eyes, but there was no less hate when she looked toward her mistress. She picked up her sword and held it so tightly her knuckles went white.
"My oath was that the crown would go to Ethine if you killed my champion. I did not promise that she could choose a successor." Silarial's voice sounded shrill.
"That was not yours to promise," Roiben said. "What is hers in death, she may give with her last breath. Perhaps she will even pass it back to you. Unlike the Unseelie crown that is won by blood, the Seelie successor is chosen.”
"I will not have my crown bestowed by one of my own handmaidens, nor will I be lessoned by one who once knelt at my feet. You are not one part what Nicnevin was.”
"And you are too much like her," said Roiben.
Three Seelie knights strode onto the field, clustering close enough to Roiben that were he to move toward Silarial, they might be faster.
"Let me remind you that my forces overwhelm yours," said Silarial. "Were our people to fight, even now, I would win. I think that gives me leave to dictate terms.”
"Will you void our agreement, then?" Roiben asked. "Will you stop this duel?”
"Before I let you have my crown!" Silarial spit.
"Ellebere!" Roiben shouted.
The Unseelie knight drew a little wooden flute from inside the wrist of his armor and brought it to his mouth. He blew three clear notes that traveled over the suddenly quiet crowd.
At the edges of the island, things began to move. Merfolk pulled themselves onto shore. Faeries appeared from the abandoned buildings, stepped from the woods, and rose out of graves. An ogre with a greening beard crossed a pair of bronze sickles over his chest. A thin troll with shaggy black hair. Goblins holding daggers of broken glass. The denizens of the parks and the streets and the shining buildings had come.
The exiled fey.
The crowd's murmuring became shouts. Some of the assemblage scrambled for arms. The solitary fey and the Night Court moved to surround the Seelie Court gentry.
"You planned an ambush?" Silarial demanded.
"I've been making some alliances." Roiben looked as though he were swallowing a smile. "Some—many—of the exiled fey were interested to know that I would accept them into my court. I would guarantee their safety even, for a mere day and night of service. Tonight. Today. You are not the only one with machinations, my Lady.”
"I see you have played to some purpose," said Silarial. She looked at him as though he were a stranger. "What is it? For what do you scheme? Ethine's death would weigh on you and the stain of her blood would seep into your skin.”
"Do you know what they wish for you when they give you the Unseelie crown?" Roiben's tone was soft, like he was telling a secret. Kaye could barely catch his words. "That you be made of ice. What makes you think it matters what I feel? What makes you think I feel anything at all? Surrender your crown to my sister.”
"I will not," said Silarial. "I will never.”
"Then there will be a battle," Roiben said. "And when the Unseelie Court is victorious, I will snatch that crown from your head and grant it as I see fit.”
"All wars have casualties." Silarial nodded to someone in the crowd.
Talathain's hand came down hard over Kaye's mouth. Fingers dug into the soft pad of her cheek and the flesh of her side as she was dragged onto the field.
"Make one move, make one command," said Silarial, turning to Kaye with a smile, "and she will be the first.”
"Ah, Talathain, how you have fallen," Roiben said. "I thought you were her knight, but you have become only her woodsman—taking little girls to the forest to cut out their hearts.”
Talathain's grip on Kaye tightened, making her gasp. She tried to tamp down her terror, tried to convince herself that if she stayed very still, she could figure a way out of this. No ideas came.
"Now give up your crown, Roiben," Silarial said. "Give it up to me as you should have when you got it, as fit tribute to your Queen.”
"You're not his Queen," Ethine said, her voice numb. "And neither are you mine." Silarial spun toward her, and Ethine plunged her blade into the Bright Queen's chest. Hot blood pocked the snow, melting dozens of tiny craters as though someone had scattered rubies. Silarial stumbled, her face a mask of surprise, and then she dropped.
Talathain shouted, but he was too late, much too late. He pushed Kaye out of his arms. She fell on her hands and knees, near the Bright Queen's body. Stepping over them both, he swung his golden sword at Ethine. She waited for the blow, not moving to defend herself.
Roiben stepped in front of her in time to catch the sword with his back. The edge sliced through his armor, opening a long red line from his shoulder to his hip. Gasping, he fell with Ethine beneath him. She shrieked.
Roiben rolled off of her and into a crouch, but Talathain had knelt beside Silarial, turning her pale face with a gloved hand. Her ancient eyes stared up at the gray sky, but no breath stirred her lips.
Roiben stood stiffly, slowly. Ethine's body shook with shallow sobs.
Talathain looked over at her. "What have you done?" he demanded.
Ethine tore at her dress and her hair until Kaye caught her hands.
"He did not deserve to be used so," she said, her voice thick with tears and mad faerie laughter. Her sharp nails sank into Kaye's flesh, but Kaye didn't let go.
"It's done," Kaye soothed, but she was frightened. She felt as though she were onstage, performing a play, while the hordes of the Unseelie Court and the exiled fey waited uneasily for a signal to crash down upon the Seelie Court they surrounded. "Come on. Stand up, Ethine.”
Roiben cut the golden circlet from Silarial's hair. Chunks of braided coppery strands and berries hung from it as he held it aloft.
"That crown is not yours," said Talathain, but his voice lacked conviction. He looked from the Unseelie Court to the exiled fey. Behind him, the champions of the Bright Court had moved to the edge of the dueling grounds, but their expressions were grave.
"I was just getting it for my sister," Roiben said.
Ethine shuddered at the sight of the circlet, caught with hair and ice.
"Here," Roiben said, picking it clean with quick fingers and shining it against the leather of his breastplate. It came away red as rubies. His brows knitted in confusion, and Kaye saw that his armor was wet with blood, that it seeped down his arm to cover his hand in a dripping glove of gore.
"Your . . .," Kaye said, and stopped. Your hand, she'd almost said, but it wasn't his hand that was hurt.
"Put your puppet on the throne," said Talathain. "You may make her Queen, but she won't be Queen for long.”
Ethine trembled. Her face was pale as paper. "My brother needs his attendants.”
"You brought her flowers," Roiben said. "Don't you remember?”
Talathain shook his head. "That was a very long time ago, before she killed my Queen. No, she won't rule for long. I'll see to that.”
Roiben's face went slack, stunned. "Very well," he said slowly, as though he were puzzling out the words as he said them. "If you would not swear loyalty to her, perhaps you will kneel and swear your loyalty to me.”
"The Seelie crown must be given—you cannot murder your way to it." Talathain pointed his sword at Roiben.
"Wait," Kaye said, pulling Ethine to her feet. "Who do you want to get the crown?”
Talathain's sword didn't waver. "It doesn't matter what she says.”
"It does!" Kaye shouted. "Your Queen made Ethine her heir. Like it or not, she gets to say what happens now.”
Ruddles strode out onto the field, giving Kaye a quick smile as he passed her. He cleared his throat. "When one court ambushes and conquers the gentry of another court, their rules of inheritance are not applicable.”
"We'll be following Unseelie custom," Dulcamara purred.
"No," Kaye said. "It's Ethine's choice who gets the crown or if she keeps it.”
Ruddles started to speak, but Roiben shook his head. "Kaye is correct. Let my sister decide.”
"Take it," Ethine told him hollowly. "Take it and be damned.”
Roiben's fingers traced over the symbols on the crown with his thumb. He sounded distant and strange. "It seems I will be coming home after all.”
Talathain took a step toward Ethine. Kaye dropped her hand, wanting to be ready, although she had no idea what she'd do if he swung.
"How can you give this monster sovereignty over us? He would have paid for his peace with your death.”
"He wouldn't have killed her," Kaye said.
Ethine looked away. "You have all turned into monsters.”
"Now the price of peace is merely her hatred," said Roiben. "That I am willing to pay.”
"I will never accept you as King of the Seelie Court," Talathain spat.
Roiben set the circlet on his brow. Blood smudged his silver hair.
"It is done, whether you accept it or no," said Ruddles.
"Let me finish the duel in your sister's place," said Talathain. "Fight me.”
"Coward," Kaye said. "He's already hurt.”
"Your Bright Lady broke her compact with us," said Dulcamara. She turned to Roiben. "Let me kill this knight for you, my Lord.”
"Fight me!" Talathain demanded.
Roiben nodded. Reaching into the snow, he lifted his own sword. It was cloudy with cold. "Let's give them the duel they came for.”
Talathain and Roiben circled each other slowly, their feet careful, their bodies swaying toward each other like snakes. Both their blades extended so that they nearly touched.
Talathain slammed his blade down. Roiben parried hard, shoving the other knight back. Talathain kept the distance. He stepped in, swung, then retreated quickly, staying just outside Roiben's range as if he were waiting for him to tire. A single rivulet of blood ran like sweat down Roiben's sword arm and onto his blade.
"You're wounded," Talathain reminded him. "How long do you really think you can last?”
"Long enough," Roiben said, but Kaye saw the wetness of his armor and the jerkiness of his movements and wasn't sure. It seemed to her that Roiben was fighting a mirror self, as though he were desperate to cut down what he might have become.
"Silarial was right about you, was she not?" said Talathain. "She said you wanted to die.”
"Come find out." Roiben swept the sword in an arc so swiftly that the air sung. Talathain parried, their blades crashing together, edge to flat.
Talathain recovered fast and thrust at Roiben's left side. Twisting away, Roiben grabbed the other knight's pommel, forcing Talathain's sword up and kicking against his foot.
Talathain fell in the snow.
Roiben stood over him, pointing the blade at the knight's throat. Talathain went still. "Come and get the crown if you want it. Come and take it from me.”
Kaye wasn't sure if she heard a threat or a plea in those words.
Talathain didn't move.
A faery with skin like pinecones, rough and cracked, took Talathain's golden sword from his hands. Another spat into the grimy snow.
"You'll never hold both courts," Talathain said, struggling to his knees.
Roiben teetered a little, and Kaye put her arm under his. He hesitated a moment before leaning his weight against her. She nearly staggered.
"We'll hold the Bright Court just as your mistress would have held us," Dulcamara purred, squatting down beside him, a shining knife touching his cheek, the point pressing against the skin. "Pinned down in the dirt. Now tell your new Lord what a fine little puppy his cleverness has bought him. Tell him you'll bark at his command.”
Ethine stood stiff and still. She closed her eyes.
"I will not serve the Unseelie Court," Talathain said to Roiben. "I will not become like you.”
"I envy you that choice," said Roiben.
"I'll make him bark," Dulcamara said.
"No," Roiben said. "Let him go.”
She looked up, surprised, but Talathain was already on his feet, pushing his way though the crowd as Ruddles called out, "Behold our undoubted Lord Roiben, King of both the Unseelie and the Seelie courts. Make your obeisances to him.”