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“What did he do this time?” Cecelia bit out.
“He harmed someone,” Milly admitted.
“Did he punch someone? It wasn’t Mr. Randall, was it?” When they drank together, the two of them could get into all sorts of scrapes.
“It was Mr. Randall, but your father didn’t punch him. It was worse.”
“How much worse?” Cecelia dropped onto the side of the bed, her limbs suddenly as heavy as two anvils. She’d gone from buoyant to weighted in a matter of moments. Only her father had a knack for doing that.
“Mr. Randall was injured in their altercation. And they had to use the healing waters to help him.”
The healing waters were for emergencies only. Only the dying were permitted to drink from the pool.
Milly grimaced as she went on. “They fought, and Mr. Randall hit his head.” She held up a hand to stop Cecelia’s next words. “He’s recovering, but slowly. And the Trusted Few have decided not to let this be brushed under the rug. Your father will stand trial.”
/> “But it was an accident,” Cecelia protested.
“They don’t consider it to be an accident when it happens this many times.”
“He’s just lonely,” Cecelia rationalized. She could rationalize this, couldn’t she? Her father was a harmless sot. Most days. She raised a hand to her own cheek. There was the time… But that was neither here nor there.
“The Trusted Few have called for you to come home. Tonight.”
Cecelia nodded. “Let me write a note for Marcus,” she said.
The wind that the Trusted Few had sent for her blew through the open window. “We don’t have time. They’re sending the wind to pick you up.”
The wind only swirled, carrying the fae back and forth from the land of the fae, on the night of the moonful, unless there were special circumstances. “This is worse than I thought.”
“Yes, it is,” Milly confirmed. Her face fell. “It’s pretty bad.”
“What about his seat with the Trusted Few?”
“It’s falling to you.”
Cecelia laid a hand upon her chest. “Me?” she cried.
“You’re his only child. His seat automatically falls to you.”
“I’m seven-and-twenty. I can’t rule the land of the fae. Not like those crusty old men.” She couldn’t rule alongside them. She simply couldn’t. It wouldn’t work out.
“They wouldn’t be so adamant about this if Marcus hadn’t given up his seat,” Milly informed her.
Cecelia had nearly forgotten that Marcus had given up his place within the governing body of their world.
“With his seat empty, they can continue, though they’ll be limping. But with two seats empty, they cannot continue.” Milly cocked her head to the side. “Do you intend to relinquish your seat?”
Cecelia raised a hand to her mouth and nibbled absently at a fingernail. She had a lot of decisions to make. “Can I do that?” she asked.
“You can do anything you want.” Milly’s voice showed no inflection. And that was telling all by itself.
The wind tugged at the hem of Cecelia’s dress, and her hair began to pull toward the window. “The wind is persistent tonight,” she said.
“Yes.” Milly arched a brow at her. “It won’t last long. If you don’t catch the wind now, we’ll have to go by way of the fish.”
Milly went by way of the fish all the time. But Cecelia had never done so. “I suppose we should hurry,” Cecelia said. “Will you come back tomorrow with a note for Marcus?”
“If possible, yes,” Milly said.
