I look at the small cluster of people around me. Mary, Moray, and Argyll will be able to spread word among the loyal nobles and guards of a threat that the humans will understand. Probably best to keep telling people the attack was meant for the queen. But Cockburn and Strathglass, as Leths, understand that the threat is more visceral.
At my prompting, the queen pulls Moray and Argyll aside. I’ll give her some credit—now that the danger’s at the gate, she is at least taking it seriously. I face Cockburn and Strathglass.
“We have to consider the very real possibility that the wall is about to be breached by the Red Caps,” I tell them, quickly relaying the warnings from Beira, although I withhold the way the High Blade spoke through Samson.
Cockburn is not just the queen’s chamberlain; he was also a captain in the royal guard. His face grows grim at my news. “We will fight,” he says.
There’s no question of that. “We will have to.”
Strathglass eyes me. “Red Cap weapons have made it through the wall, but that does not mean the Red Caps themselves—”
I have to tell the truth. The security of two worlds depends on it. “Samson is a Red Cap Leth.”
Cockburn curses, his hand going to his sword. “I will kill him for you.”
I shake my head. “No. He has Red Cap blood, but he is good. And he is in control of his…bloodlust state.”
“That was not control, Lady Alyth.” Pity tinges with kindness in Laird Strathglass’s voice. He thinks I’ve gone soft, like Bothwell believed. Am I that transparent?
I have spent my entire time at court feeling invisible, but apparently there were more eyes on me than I ever realized.
“You’re right.” I take a deep, shuddering breath. “When I spoke to the Queen of Winter, she informed me…the High Blade still lives and is leading the charge against the wall. And whatever spell of command was on Samson…that reeks of the type of controlling magic the High Blade used to such devastating effect.”
Both men pale at that.
Samson’s empty aura reminded me of that particular story. Mindless murder machines who never tire—who, in fact, grow stronger as the battle rages on—would be of little use if there were no way to command them and direct who was attacked. The High Blade, the leader of all Red Caps, knew a secret spell to control them.
I am confident that is what made Samson attack me. Even if I had not seen his eyes, had not watched him struggle against his nature, I would still not believe he had attacked me of his own free will.
I was so angry before. But on the other side of my rage, there is only clarity.
Samson was controlled. And no one would know that spell of power without learning it from the High Blade.
My stomach clenches. Cecil is at the heart of all this. He could be the High Blade. He used his own son to test the amulet from Darnley’s family, and he was already in communication with Darnley, giving him orders. I can see it so clearly—Darnley would be the obvious choice of regent for his infant son if Mary were killed, and then Cecil could manipulate him into a marriage with Queen Elizabeth. She’d be a pawn in the plan, but that marriage would give Darnley—but really Cecil—the entire British island to rule and access to the Seelie Court.
If Cecil is the High Blade, he could have shared the spell with Darnley.
Hells below, he could already be here. He knows the amulet works; he could have breached the wall with another.
Which means…
Not just a few Red Cap weapons used for assassination attempts or single Red Caps capable of breaking through the wall.
But a whole Red Cap army, controlled by the High Blade.
“The guards took Samson to the dungeons,” Cockburn states. “Our first order of business will be to interrogate him.”
All eyes to me, even the queen’s as she comes back to our group with the others. “I agree,” I say. “I’ll do it.”
Moray starts to protest, but Strathglass puts a hand on his arm. “She will see the truth more than any other.”
I shudder, remembering the way Samson’s aura evaporated when he was controlled.
“And after that, I will contact my father,” I say. “I will demand reinforcements.”
Mary’s lips twitch in a snarl she’s quick to hide. She doesn’t like being reminded that I’m royalty too. I don’t like remembering my father either, but I can no longer hope that he’ll notice me and my message and deign to grace us with his presence. The threat is here, I’m certain of that, and we need more than just a human army to fight them back. The fae may be oblivious to human time, but my father can’t ignore me if I drag him back here by his pointed ear.
I send Cockburn and Strathglass to warn the others. Not just here in Stirling but in all of Scotland. Every Leth has their own connections, like I do with Moyra. Magic tied to the land means they have the strongest links close to their homes, and no doubt my warning will set all of magical Scotland on high alert.
