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I turned the man's arm so they could all see the mark, but they didn't seem to recognize its importance. Of course they wouldn't. Only those close to the queen were aware of it, and we were all sworn to secrecy. "It's the queen's mark," I informed them grimly. "This male is one of the Queen's Hands." That got me a bunch of raised eyebrows, so I sighed and attempted to clarify. "Spy. Elite guard. Assassin. They're…multi-talented."
The men shared a look. "What is he doing here?" Mirri finally asked. He still looked chastised, as if the scorn from his parents and the accident with the stables and the flaming feed barn were still weighing on him. "Was he part of this…." He trailed off, probably hesitant to use words that might upset me.
But Adder had no such problem. "Assassination attempt?" he said flatly. He seemed pretty set on making that bit plain to everyone.
I shook my head. "No." My fingers ran over the mark on the stranger's wrist. "The Queen's Hands are literally incapable of betrayal."
Fife scowled at me as he caught on to what I was implying. "They're lifesworn? That practice is illegal! And for good reason."
I sighed, feeling the weariness settle into my bones as the day wore on me. "The king and queen make the laws. Who's going to stop them? And the Queen's Hands enter into the agreement voluntarily." I waved away his outrage for more pertinent matters. "The point is, if he had betrayed the queen, he would be dead right now, not simply unconscious. And I very much doubt the queen sent him here to watch me be murdered by a crazed hippogriff."
Fife huffed, but allowed my change of topic and resumed his healing efforts. "He'll wake soon. He won't be in fighting shape after that knock to the head. But he'll at least be ambulatory."
I nodded. As promised, a moment later the male groaned and opened his eyes, lurching up into a sitting position as he registered where he was. His gray eyes lit on me, and he grimaced. "Lady Katrina."
I arched my brows at him. "And you are?"
"Steel, my lady." He put a hand over his heart and bowed his head briefly in a show of respect. "Are you harmed?"
I shook my head. "I am not. But I am bruised, exhausted, and filthy. And I’m more than ready to return home. You're coming with us. We can discuss why you're here after we've all had a bath and a drink."
"As you wish, my lady." He pushed himself to his feet, where he swayed and almost fell over. Bach braced him and helped him shuffle outside and toward the carriage.
I frowned after them. "Are you sure you healed him?" I asked Fife in a hushed whisper as we followed. "He looks a bit…peaked." The poor man was pale and shaking by the time we reached the carriage.
Fife gave me a look that was pure evil. "I healed him enough to talk. But not enough to run away." He shrugged and headed back toward the stable building as he muttered a spell, probably to quiet the residents or to search for magical traces that might reveal my attacker's identity.
Well, that was…disturbing. Smart, probably. But still…I had a feeling my mates could be far more terrifying than I realized. And the amount of skill it took to control a healing that way was unheard of.
Our new guest was slumped in the far corner of the carriage when I got there, eyes closed and a pained expression on his face.
The carriage ride back home was tense, to say the least. After Fife took a few moments to poke around the stables with his magic, he, Bach, and Adder mounted up on their griffins and rode beside the carriage like my own personal guard, accompanied by a few of the actual guards from town as well. Adder's dire words about assassination still echoed in my mind, the idea both ludicrous and…probably true. Especially if the Queen's Hands were involved.
Mirri's parents shared a seat with Steel, and they were keeping themselves pushed over into the opposite corner, doing their level best to avoid touching the dirty, ill-looking stranger. Mirri sat close beside me on the opposite seat, his warm hand cradled in mine. "I'm sorry," he murmured to me, his gold eyes full of regret. "That I let this happen. That I wasn't able to catch the fae who attacked you. And the barn…"
"Oh, hush," I told him. "Mirri, you've done nothing wrong. In fact, you probably prevented the assassin from figuring out how to get rid of me after his first attempt failed."
Mirri's father scoffed, clearly listening in on our hushed conversation. "Nonsense," he snapped. "The boy is a bumbling disgrace, as he has always been. You do not have to make allowances for his incompetence and negligence, lady steward." He glared daggers at his son. "I hope you don't expect your mother and I to make reparations for your bungled use of magic."
Lady Woodspur chimed in with her own brand of nonsense. "Mirri, dear, we have cautioned you about your impulsive actions. Why, you nearly set me ablaze! Your own mother!"
"I'm sorry, mother," Mirri said stiffly. "That was never my intention. But you stepped directly into the path of my spell."
I ground my teeth together, trying to stay out of it. Mirri was going to sit there and take their verbal abuse because he didn't want to make a scene or make me look bad. The opinions of these garbage fae were not in any way true or relevant. But I also knew that this kind of thing could slowly tear a person down, even when you were determined not to let it get to you. And I'd had enough.
"We can only hope your indiscretion hasn't cost you the esteem of the people you are meant to govern," Mirri's mother was saying in that fake tone of sad, sweet concern.
They were worried that Mirri's slip-up might make them look bad by association. That if Mirri lost my favor, then they wouldn't be able to leech off the bond between us.
"Oh, for once in your lives, shut the fuck up!" I snapped, glaring at the couple opposite me. "No one here is buying your poor attempt at pretending to be parents. Or decent people. You're both vile, and you will leave my sight the moment we reach the estate."
Lady Woodspur's eyes went wide, and she pressed a hand to her chest as she gasped in feigned surprise and indignation at my outburst. "Well, I never!"
Lord Woodspur puffed up like an over-inflated cloudfish. "Are we to endure these insults simply because we attempt to hold our son accountable for his behavior and keep him from besmirching your name?"
I sneered at them. "I know what you did. I know what you are. Slimy toads who planned to sell their own kind—their own child—into what amounts to slavery. Bowing, scraping, ingratiating scum who only want more power and wealth and don't care how they obtain it!" Lifting my chin, I gave them the frostiest glare I could muster. "I think you forget that I'm not some simple, untried child. I am the steward of Larkwood, and I have the power and connections to unravel every bit of status and wealth you've managed to accumulate through unsavory means." I sat back and crossed my arms over my chest, looking down my nose at them like the filth they were. "You are finished. And you will never come near Mirri again."
The carriage halted before they could manage a reply, and I threw the door open and climbed out. Mirri and the others followed, the sickly Queen's Hand nearly falling on his face before he pulled himself upright with ramrod straight posture and a steely glare for Mirri's parents. He might not be feeling up to the task, but clearly, he was determined to protect me should they turn violent.
