Page 35 of The Faerie Handmaid

Morgana sagged back in her chair. “By the Lady’s hand. I had no idea.” She glanced down the table and saw that Braithe had given up her pretense of not paying attention. “Braithe, did you?”

Braithe gave a small nod.

“You sensed it.”

Another nod.

“Are you reading minds, then?”

“No, Priestess, but—my impressions are distinct, and getting clearer by the day. I have not yet been wrong.”

“Your particular gift has grown powerful,” Morgana said.

“It’s the magic,” Braithe said. “It’s everywhere, soaked into everything. Besides making my bones ache, my gift—or whatever this is—has grown intense.” She wriggled her shoulders, as if the intensity was not completely comfortable.

“It is the opposite for me,” Morgana said. Speaking the words aloud made her anxiety surge anew, and she touched her sigil to steady herself.

“I know,” Braithe said quietly. “I’m sorry, Priestess.”

It was Emerlyn’s turn to lean forward, to give Braithe a searching look. “Your gift told you there was no queen?”

“It did. Forgive me, Councillor, but I picked it up from you.”

Morgana said, “Tell us, brat. What do you sense about this illusion of a queen?”

Braithe looked from Morgana to Emerlyn, frowning. “It is more than a sense, Priestess. I cannot say why.” When Emerlyn made a gesture of permission, fingers lifting from the table, Braithe gave an apologetic shrug before continuing. “There was a queen. Not your Lady mother, Priestess, but another who came after, or was supposed to. She is gone. Died or fled, I don’t know.”

Emerlyn said, “Disappeared.”

“Yes. Disappeared without warning.”

Morgana said, “That is a very strange thing.”

Emerlyn dropped her hands into her lap in a gesture of defeat and resignation. “I suppose it is. It was some time ago. I have gotten used to it.”

“Why would she disappear?”

“I suspect,” Emerlyn said heavily, “that she grew tired of the council. It is, in fact, wearying, often beyond bearing.”

“Does no one ever ask what became of her?”

“I expect some of the delegates suspect she’s gone, but they say nothing. It’s a convenience. A manner of speaking, claiming we act in the queen’s name.”

Not a convenience so much as a deception, Morgana thought. It all reminded her of the changeling, deception upon deception, lie upon lie. She marveled that someone like Emerlyn could tolerate being a part of it.

“And now,” Emerlyn said, deftly turning the subject, “I have confided in you. Will you do the same for me?”

“What do you want to know?”

“You said you found an answer with the woodland creatures today. Will you tell me what it was?”

Morgana hesitated before she said, “I will, Emerlyn. But you will not like it.”

“I assume it pertains to identifying the ones cursing the boy king’s reign.”

“It does. We need to know who they are in order to stop them. I cannot make that happen, but there is someone who can, and that is the wisdom I received.”

“And who is this person?”