An Enchantment of Ravens

It didn’t escape me that he had not yet mentioned returning to the forest, or said anything about taking up the role of king, so the moment he started fidgeting restlessly in his seat, I had a reasonable idea of what he was working up to.

“Once,” he said, “I mentioned to you how succession works among my kind. How one prince is replaced by another. Or at least, how it used to work—the law can be different now.”

“Yes, and it’s awful,” I said with feeling. “Killing one another like . . . oh.”

Rook hadn’t been prepared for me to start figuring it out myself. He paled and continued quickly, “So, technically, as you are the one who defeated the Alder King, you’re now—well—the queen of the fairy courts. And I . . .”

I took pity on him. He was turning rather green. “Rook, I would be delighted to marry you and make you king. But first, I have one demand. It is of the utmost importance.”

I couldn’t tell whether he looked more relieved, or more frightened. “What is it, my dear?”

“I’d like another declaration, please.”

“Isobel.” He swept down to his knees and kissed my hand, gazing up at me in devotion. “I love you more than the stars in the sky. I love you more than Lark loves dresses.”

I startled myself with my own yelping laugh.

“I love you more than Gadfly loves looking at himself in a mirror,” he went on.

“Surely not that!”

My voice hardened, choked with emotion. “I don’t appreciate being used as a pawn in your game, sir.”

He looked at me a long moment in silence. “Ah, but you were not a pawn. All along, you have been the queen.”

I took a breath. His inflection was laden with some hidden meaning I didn’t have the patience to decipher. “And you are treacherous, and I’ll never forget the pain we endured by your design, no matter what came of it in the end.”

“Spoken, if I may say so, like a true monarch.” He smiled again.

“Gadfly,” Rook said, in a tone that suggested the spring prince was overstaying his welcome.

“Just one last thing, if I may.” Gadfly brushed some invisible dust off his sleeve and raised his eyebrows at Rook. “You are aware, I trust, that you are not yet named king? That there is a certain something you must—”

“Yes, I know!” Rook interrupted crossly.

I shot him a curious glance and discovered that he was nervously avoiding my eyes. He looked relieved when tentative footsteps crunched within the house, liberating him of the burden of explaining this “certain something” to me, and for the moment I was happy to forget all about it.

“Emma!” I called. “We’re safe! We’re in the . . . parlor.”

“I can see that,” Emma said calmly, picking her way into the room with the twins clutching both her hands. “There are holes in the walls. March, whatever you just picked up, don’t eat it.”

“Too late,” said May.

Emma shook her head. She scanned the parlor, and then the yard, and saw Gadfly, whereupon her eyes narrowed appraisingly. “Now who’s going to clean up this mess?”

“Oh, dear,” said Gadfly. “I’m afraid I must be off.”