As a princess, I'd seen many strange things in my time.
Granted, most of what I'd seen were things done by my own family. But it didn't change the fact that I was witness to a host of weird and fantastical displays.
Why, when my father juggled a dozen bottles of priceless Châteaux Liran-Tuilhem de Vin Lingot while managing to pour the wine into each of the waiting dignitaries' glasses, it was a display impressive enough to earn us a new trading agreement before dessert.
Seeing a member of the noble fae race pick up their own head and then struggle to screw it back on, however, had now taken that memory's place.
And I wasn't certain if that sat well with my stomach.
I watched on, torn between horror and morbid curiosity as the fae before me twisted himself by the chin until his head was symmetrically aligned with his body. Once settled, he made a grimace and gave the very faintest of nods.
“My apologies for that. My bout of headlessness is a very recent addition to my character, and I've had precious little time to become accustomed to it.”
I blinked at the fae.
Ordinarily, I'd be taking in the lustre of his dark wings decorated with blue, or the deep gleam in the eyes which betrayed his youthful face. I'd note the way he held himself with the clear poise of an aristocrat accustomed to life at court, and how he alone wore the trappings of white chiton whereas those swarming at his back wore armour.
A fae of high standing, whose presence filled the portal more than his physical stature did. And I cared for none of that at all right now.
“That surely cannot be healthy?” I queried, my hand to my mouth as I allowed Starlight Grace to lower. “Is it not somewhat debilitating to lose one's head?”
“For those less devoted to their sovereign, perhaps. Until the next Winter Queen releases me from my sworn oaths, I am forbidden from allowing a mere case of decapitation result in my death.”
My mouth opened wider. I pressed my hand closer.
What … What loyalty!
To lose one's head and yet still fulfil the functions of their office! Here was a true champion among retainers! Such steadfast fealty even with the absence of one's head could only be admired!
This … This was patriotism!
Why, if all the servants in the Royal Villa showed such dedication to my family's cause, I would even consider offering them a pay rise! I didn't know how much they earned, true, but if they could demonstrate such unflinching resolve even in the face of headlessness, I would allow it!
“That's amazing,” said Coppelia, who I was glad was learning from this fae's shining example. “Can you do that whenever you want? Like a party trick?”
“I assure you that this is no party trick, my clockwork lady. In the brief time I've experienced this change of state, I have drawn forth no laughter other than my own. Indeed, there is black humour to be found in finally being able to correct my gait. My peers were correct. I did walk rather stiffly.”
“There's a silver lining in everything, eh?”
“That is true. Without my head, I imagine I could now also take to the air further and faster than any of my brothers or sisters. It would, however, mean that I have little idea where I'm going.”
“It's probably okay. Bats are blind and they do just fine. You'll learn to feel your way.”
“Thank you. Such reassurance steadies my overwhelming dismay.”
I leaned in slightly, all diplomatic codes of conduct lost to me as I studied the clear line which existed between this fae's head and torso.
“Does it hurt?” I asked.
“It does not hurt, no,” replied the fae in a gruff tone, clearly accepting that this wasn't a conversation he could escape from. “Neither is it comfortable. It simply is.”
“Hey, can your legs move by themselves?” asked Coppelia. “Like, can the rest of your body just decide to kick your own head if it was in a bad mood?”
“My body is not independent, no. It cannot kick my own head.”
“But what if you did tell your body to kick your own head? Would it obey or would some muscle instinctually seize up to stop it? What if you kicked your own head so far that you couldn't see the rest of you anymore? Is there a limit to the connection between your head and your body? What's the max distance you can kick your own head?”
The fae pursed his lips.
“I have no intention of kicking my own head.”
“But say you did—”
“I will not kick my own head,” said the fae, his tone becoming grander as he stood taller. “For I have deeper matters to attend to. As do you and your princess.”
The fae's already gleaming eyes flashed as he took in my noble appearance.
“I have heard your declaration, Juliette Contzen, Third Princess to the Kingdom of Tirea. I am Count Landin of the Frozen Hearth, and I serve as Custodian of Treasures to the Winter Queen come her renewal. Know that I speak with the authority of her voice.”
I dipped my head. But not too much. A high level statesman deserved my respect. But not one actively engaged in what appeared to be the spearhead of an invasion.
“Then this shall be a productive meeting, Count Landin of the Frozen Hearth. And also shorter than I hope it will take for your brothers and sisters to reach us. By any chance, does the authority of the Winter Queen's voice allow for the army behind your back to cease in their bloodlust and their approach?”
“It does,” replied the Count. He said and did nothing more. Even so, the swarm slowed, even if it didn't fully stop.
I smiled.
A short meeting it was, then.
“You've heard my words,” I said. “They remain true. By ancient decree, the fae cannot pass the limits of the Wovencoille. Under what pretext does the Winter Court breach the laws which exist between our two kingdoms?”
“We have no pretext, Princess. Only righteous justification as true as our grief.”
“Then I dare say this will be creative. I'm aware that the fae are quite keen to fully rid the Wovencoille of all those who uses its fine walnut trees for carpentry. How often do your brothers and sisters fall upon our lumber mills to steal away a worker in the midst of their sweat and toil, I wonder? Why, you cannot even wait until after they've finished being productive.”
“Errant members of our kind,” answered the Count at once, his lie as clear as the gap showing the host of the fae. “No, it is not for the sake of our despoiled ancient woodlands that we have come to unveil our ire.”
“Then what is it?” I suddenly frowned. “I cannot and will not be held liable for whatever slight the peasants have committed this time. They are proudly unhygienic. If one of them spat and their disgusting fluids landed in the Fae Realm, then you may haul them away to be inducted in your own soap making rehabilitation programme as you please. This, however, is a severe overreaction.”
Count Landin shook his head. He swiftly realised his error when his hands shot up to hold his head in place.
“It was not a peasant which despoiled the Fae Realm. A sword saint hailing from your kingdom intruded upon the Winter Court.”
“A what?”
I was stunned.
The Kingdom of Tirea had few who could be called sword saints. So few, in fact, that any noble family which happened to host one passing through their domain would proudly boast of them as though they were their own prized stallions.
Meaning, of course, that it was always simple gossip.
Neither the barony nor the lordships possessed the right to command forces greater than their own personal retinue, and certainly no individual of great strength. Only the dukedoms were given that privilege. A grave misjudgement made by my ancestors, concerned that one of their descendants would become a despot.
None of them, I knew … I hoped, would be moronic enough to request the services of a sword saint to intrude upon the Fae Realm.
Even given the low standards I held the nobility to, this would only be an exercise in self-destruction. And the nobility were nothing if not cockroaches bent on eking out survival.
“A sword saint,” repeated Count Landin. “A great number of my brethren will now no longer take to the skies. But that is not the worst crime that was committed. An artifact of immeasurable value was stolen.”
“What was it?”
“The Crown of Winter.”
“... Excuse me?”
“The royal headpiece of the Winter Queen.”
My cheeks twitched with the force required to subdue my open mockery.
“You lost your crown? The crown?”
The struggle was severe.
Frankly, anybody who lost the headpiece of their monarch deserved to lose it. I already knew that if worse came to worst and the Royal Villa was looted to its last ruby encrusted spoon, the Royal Crown would still remain in the arms of those still loyal to my family.
“Indeed.” The fae gave a curt nod. “And we would see it returned. Oh, and perhaps crush a kingdom in the process. A point needs to be made, as I'm certain you'll agree.”
I was aghast.
I needed this kingdom! Without it, I would lose my status as princess! I would merely be wealthy without status, no better than highborn nobility!
Why, that was as bad as being a mere roadside vagrant!
“I do not agree,” I replied at once. “To intrude upon the Fae Realm is folly. This is known by all. Any wrong committed against your Winter Queen was not sanctioned by the Kingdom of Tirea. Any petty criminal who did so is disavowed by us all. We will not be held accountable for the crimes of some petty thief.”
The fae chuckled. Yet the mirth in his voice didn't reach his eyes.
It was, well, somewhat troubling that I couldn't discern if it meant he was projecting his disagreement, or if losing one's head simply meant a loss of facial control.
This quasi-headless fae had clearly prepared well for this meeting.
“Truly, Your Highness, you insult us and your own criminals if you believe a petty thief can steal from the fae. It took at least one gifted mage and one gifted thief. And I happen to be familiar with the name and face of the thief.”
The fae purposefully paused. I withheld the urge to roll my eyes.
“Very well. Tell me which of my subjects stole the Crown of Winter, so that amends may be made before the Winter Court is forced to suffer a sunburn in Tirea's springtime.”
“The sword saint was an elven woman bearing the name Ophelia, titled the Snow Dancer by the Duchy of Aquina.”
My mouth fell open.
But not because I recognised the name of this sword saint. That only struck the vaguest recollection in the library of knowledge that was my mind.
No … my consternation came solely from hearing that the Duchy of Aquina, this worthless stretch of organised tax evasion, had now obviously achieved something so calamitously moronic in scale that their existence was now known by more than fishermen and their gossiping housewives.
What was this?! A sword saint titled by the Duchy of Aquina had now stolen the headpiece of the Winter Queen?!
I could scarcely believe it. Duke Valence was a nuisance and an opportunist. But this went beyond any sabre rattling against our patience.
Furthermore, if a monarch's crown was now being delivered to the ruler of a revolting duchy, then it did not take the genius I knew I was to compound the meaning behind that.
I clenched my fists—all the while Count Landin closely watched my expression.
He frowned in thought, then raised his palm beside his shoulder.
“The elven woman is approximately this tall, has silver hair, and is single.”
“What? No, I do not care one whit about this sword saint. If the Duchy of Aquina is responsible for this travesty, then that is all the more reason to stay your wings. The Kingdom of Tirea does not condone a single breath the duplicitous head of that region breathes. This is an affront to us both.”
Count Landin shrugged.
“The distinction is rather lost on us, particularly as you wield responsibility for the leash around your subjects.”
“Indeed, he is. Whatever misbegotten scheme he plans, I will see him brought before the court of Tirea. And if I feel generous with his remains, then Winter also.”
Finally, a morsel of amusement lit up in the fae's gleaming eyes.
“If you wish to entreat with the Winter Court, then amends will have to be made. But have you enough to quench our wrath?”
I let out a small smile.
“... Why, I believe that I do.”
Endearing myself to the fae mattered little to me. I would see an invasion stopped at our doorstep. This was the most important objective.
However, that didn't mean preventing calamity was the only prize.
Why, it appeared that the duke was no longer content with his station. If so, I would only be too happy to assist him in changing occupation.
And all his descendants, allies and advisors with him.
Ohohohoho … to see opportunity even amidst a fae invasion! I wasn't just a mastermind! I was a mastermind among masterminds! Were I not born a princess, I would be stolen away to the war councils of empires!
A golden chance now existed to finally rid the Kingdom of Tirea of the relentless scourge that governed the Duchy of Aquina! That was Duke Valence and his entire family line, that lineage of nuisances whose commitments to our Royal Treasury were as shaky as stilts in a storm!
As a member of royalty, I was only all too aware of the threat of the guillotine.
It would appear that some of the nobility needed to be reminded of its presence as well. Duke Valence would make a fine example. That man would answer for this outrageous act of stupidity. And if he was lucky, the fae will not bother sticking his head back on.
Thus, I answered the head teetering fae with my smile.
That was the greatest of any gift from me. But I would provide lesser ones to further still his appetite for justice—after mine had been appeased first.
Because whereas the Winter Court had only been stolen from, the Kingdom of Tirea had been betrayed. There was a queue. The fae would have to wait their turn.
Fortunately for them, I had no doubt they would enjoy the interim.
“It is not, I believe, enough to merely have the Crown of Winter returned to you. A slight has occurred which must stand corrected. You have my assurances that those responsible will be held accountable in a way that even the storied realm of the fae will take delight in. A point will be made.”
“How sharp a point, Your Highness?”
I turned, slightly lifting the back of my boot.
“A point as sharp as these heels will allow, Count Landin of the Frozen Hearth.”
The fae smiled.
And then, both he and the portal disappeared.
As a princess, I'd seen many strange things in my time.
Granted, most of what I'd seen were things done by my own family. But it didn't change the fact that I was witness to a host of weird and fantastical displays.
Why, when my father juggled a dozen bottles of priceless Châteaux Liran-Tuilhem de Vin Lingot while managing to pour the wine into each of the waiting dignitaries' glasses, it was a display impressive enough to earn us a new trading agreement before dessert.
Seeing a member of the noble fae race pick up their own head and then struggle to screw it back on, however, had now taken that memory's place.
And I wasn't certain if that sat well with my stomach.
I watched on, torn between horror and morbid curiosity as the fae before me twisted himself by the chin until his head was symmetrically aligned with his body. Once settled, he made a grimace and gave the very faintest of nods.
“My apologies for that. My bout of headlessness is a very recent addition to my character, and I've had precious little time to become accustomed to it.”
I blinked at the fae.
Ordinarily, I'd be taking in the lustre of his dark wings decorated with blue, or the deep gleam in the eyes which betrayed his youthful face. I'd note the way he held himself with the clear poise of an aristocrat accustomed to life at court, and how he alone wore the trappings of white chiton whereas those swarming at his back wore armour.
A fae of high standing, whose presence filled the portal more than his physical stature did. And I cared for none of that at all right now.
“That surely cannot be healthy?” I queried, my hand to my mouth as I allowed Starlight Grace to lower. “Is it not somewhat debilitating to lose one's head?”
“For those less devoted to their sovereign, perhaps. Until the next Winter Queen releases me from my sworn oaths, I am forbidden from allowing a mere case of decapitation result in my death.”
My mouth opened wider. I pressed my hand closer.
What … What loyalty!
To lose one's head and yet still fulfil the functions of their office! Here was a true champion among retainers! Such steadfast fealty even with the absence of one's head could only be admired!
This … This was patriotism!
Why, if all the servants in the Royal Villa showed such dedication to my family's cause, I would even consider offering them a pay rise! I didn't know how much they earned, true, but if they could demonstrate such unflinching resolve even in the face of headlessness, I would allow it!
“That's amazing,” said Coppelia, who I was glad was learning from this fae's shining example. “Can you do that whenever you want? Like a party trick?”
“I assure you that this is no party trick, my clockwork lady. In the brief time I've experienced this change of state, I have drawn forth no laughter other than my own. Indeed, there is black humour to be found in finally being able to correct my gait. My peers were correct. I did walk rather stiffly.”
“There's a silver lining in everything, eh?”
“That is true. Without my head, I imagine I could now also take to the air further and faster than any of my brothers or sisters. It would, however, mean that I have little idea where I'm going.”
“It's probably okay. Bats are blind and they do just fine. You'll learn to feel your way.”
“Thank you. Such reassurance steadies my overwhelming dismay.”
I leaned in slightly, all diplomatic codes of conduct lost to me as I studied the clear line which existed between this fae's head and torso.
“Does it hurt?” I asked.
“It does not hurt, no,” replied the fae in a gruff tone, clearly accepting that this wasn't a conversation he could escape from. “Neither is it comfortable. It simply is.”
“Hey, can your legs move by themselves?” asked Coppelia. “Like, can the rest of your body just decide to kick your own head if it was in a bad mood?”
“My body is not independent, no. It cannot kick my own head.”
“But what if you did tell your body to kick your own head? Would it obey or would some muscle instinctually seize up to stop it? What if you kicked your own head so far that you couldn't see the rest of you anymore? Is there a limit to the connection between your head and your body? What's the max distance you can kick your own head?”
The fae pursed his lips.
“I have no intention of kicking my own head.”
“But say you did—”
“I will not kick my own head,” said the fae, his tone becoming grander as he stood taller. “For I have deeper matters to attend to. As do you and your princess.”
The fae's already gleaming eyes flashed as he took in my noble appearance.
“I have heard your declaration, Juliette Contzen, Third Princess to the Kingdom of Tirea. I am Count Landin of the Frozen Hearth, and I serve as Custodian of Treasures to the Winter Queen come her renewal. Know that I speak with the authority of her voice.”
I dipped my head. But not too much. A high level statesman deserved my respect. But not one actively engaged in what appeared to be the spearhead of an invasion.
“Then this shall be a productive meeting, Count Landin of the Frozen Hearth. And also shorter than I hope it will take for your brothers and sisters to reach us. By any chance, does the authority of the Winter Queen's voice allow for the army behind your back to cease in their bloodlust and their approach?”
“It does,” replied the Count. He said and did nothing more. Even so, the swarm slowed, even if it didn't fully stop.
I smiled.
A short meeting it was, then.
“You've heard my words,” I said. “They remain true. By ancient decree, the fae cannot pass the limits of the Wovencoille. Under what pretext does the Winter Court breach the laws which exist between our two kingdoms?”
“We have no pretext, Princess. Only righteous justification as true as our grief.”
“Then I dare say this will be creative. I'm aware that the fae are quite keen to fully rid the Wovencoille of all those who uses its fine walnut trees for carpentry. How often do your brothers and sisters fall upon our lumber mills to steal away a worker in the midst of their sweat and toil, I wonder? Why, you cannot even wait until after they've finished being productive.”
“Errant members of our kind,” answered the Count at once, his lie as clear as the gap showing the host of the fae. “No, it is not for the sake of our despoiled ancient woodlands that we have come to unveil our ire.”
“Then what is it?” I suddenly frowned. “I cannot and will not be held liable for whatever slight the peasants have committed this time. They are proudly unhygienic. If one of them spat and their disgusting fluids landed in the Fae Realm, then you may haul them away to be inducted in your own soap making rehabilitation programme as you please. This, however, is a severe overreaction.”
Count Landin shook his head. He swiftly realised his error when his hands shot up to hold his head in place.
“It was not a peasant which despoiled the Fae Realm. A sword saint hailing from your kingdom intruded upon the Winter Court.”
“A what?”
I was stunned.
The Kingdom of Tirea had few who could be called sword saints. So few, in fact, that any noble family which happened to host one passing through their domain would proudly boast of them as though they were their own prized stallions.
Meaning, of course, that it was always simple gossip.
Neither the barony nor the lordships possessed the right to command forces greater than their own personal retinue, and certainly no individual of great strength. Only the dukedoms were given that privilege. A grave misjudgement made by my ancestors, concerned that one of their descendants would become a despot.
None of them, I knew … I hoped, would be moronic enough to request the services of a sword saint to intrude upon the Fae Realm.
Even given the low standards I held the nobility to, this would only be an exercise in self-destruction. And the nobility were nothing if not cockroaches bent on eking out survival.
“A sword saint,” repeated Count Landin. “A great number of my brethren will now no longer take to the skies. But that is not the worst crime that was committed. An artifact of immeasurable value was stolen.”
“What was it?”
“The Crown of Winter.”
“... Excuse me?”
“The royal headpiece of the Winter Queen.”
My cheeks twitched with the force required to subdue my open mockery.
“You lost your crown? The crown?”
The struggle was severe.
Frankly, anybody who lost the headpiece of their monarch deserved to lose it. I already knew that if worse came to worst and the Royal Villa was looted to its last ruby encrusted spoon, the Royal Crown would still remain in the arms of those still loyal to my family.
“Indeed.” The fae gave a curt nod. “And we would see it returned. Oh, and perhaps crush a kingdom in the process. A point needs to be made, as I'm certain you'll agree.”
I was aghast.
I needed this kingdom! Without it, I would lose my status as princess! I would merely be wealthy without status, no better than highborn nobility!
Why, that was as bad as being a mere roadside vagrant!
“I do not agree,” I replied at once. “To intrude upon the Fae Realm is folly. This is known by all. Any wrong committed against your Winter Queen was not sanctioned by the Kingdom of Tirea. Any petty criminal who did so is disavowed by us all. We will not be held accountable for the crimes of some petty thief.”
The fae chuckled. Yet the mirth in his voice didn't reach his eyes.
It was, well, somewhat troubling that I couldn't discern if it meant he was projecting his disagreement, or if losing one's head simply meant a loss of facial control.
This quasi-headless fae had clearly prepared well for this meeting.
“Truly, Your Highness, you insult us and your own criminals if you believe a petty thief can steal from the fae. It took at least one gifted mage and one gifted thief. And I happen to be familiar with the name and face of the thief.”
The fae purposefully paused. I withheld the urge to roll my eyes.
“Very well. Tell me which of my subjects stole the Crown of Winter, so that amends may be made before the Winter Court is forced to suffer a sunburn in Tirea's springtime.”
“The sword saint was an elven woman bearing the name Ophelia, titled the Snow Dancer by the Duchy of Aquina.”
My mouth fell open.
But not because I recognised the name of this sword saint. That only struck the vaguest recollection in the library of knowledge that was my mind.
No … my consternation came solely from hearing that the Duchy of Aquina, this worthless stretch of organised tax evasion, had now obviously achieved something so calamitously moronic in scale that their existence was now known by more than fishermen and their gossiping housewives.
What was this?! A sword saint titled by the Duchy of Aquina had now stolen the headpiece of the Winter Queen?!
I could scarcely believe it. Duke Valence was a nuisance and an opportunist. But this went beyond any sabre rattling against our patience.
Furthermore, if a monarch's crown was now being delivered to the ruler of a revolting duchy, then it did not take the genius I knew I was to compound the meaning behind that.
I clenched my fists—all the while Count Landin closely watched my expression.
He frowned in thought, then raised his palm beside his shoulder.
“The elven woman is approximately this tall, has silver hair, and is single.”
“What? No, I do not care one whit about this sword saint. If the Duchy of Aquina is responsible for this travesty, then that is all the more reason to stay your wings. The Kingdom of Tirea does not condone a single breath the duplicitous head of that region breathes. This is an affront to us both.”
Count Landin shrugged.
“The distinction is rather lost on us, particularly as you wield responsibility for the leash around your subjects.”
“Indeed, he is. Whatever misbegotten scheme he plans, I will see him brought before the court of Tirea. And if I feel generous with his remains, then Winter also.”
Finally, a morsel of amusement lit up in the fae's gleaming eyes.
“If you wish to entreat with the Winter Court, then amends will have to be made. But have you enough to quench our wrath?”
I let out a small smile.
“... Why, I believe that I do.”
Endearing myself to the fae mattered little to me. I would see an invasion stopped at our doorstep. This was the most important objective.
However, that didn't mean preventing calamity was the only prize.
Why, it appeared that the duke was no longer content with his station. If so, I would only be too happy to assist him in changing occupation.
And all his descendants, allies and advisors with him.
Ohohohoho … to see opportunity even amidst a fae invasion! I wasn't just a mastermind! I was a mastermind among masterminds! Were I not born a princess, I would be stolen away to the war councils of empires!
A golden chance now existed to finally rid the Kingdom of Tirea of the relentless scourge that governed the Duchy of Aquina! That was Duke Valence and his entire family line, that lineage of nuisances whose commitments to our Royal Treasury were as shaky as stilts in a storm!
As a member of royalty, I was only all too aware of the threat of the guillotine.
It would appear that some of the nobility needed to be reminded of its presence as well. Duke Valence would make a fine example. That man would answer for this outrageous act of stupidity. And if he was lucky, the fae will not bother sticking his head back on.
Thus, I answered the head teetering fae with my smile.
That was the greatest of any gift from me. But I would provide lesser ones to further still his appetite for justice—after mine had been appeased first.
Because whereas the Winter Court had only been stolen from, the Kingdom of Tirea had been betrayed. There was a queue. The fae would have to wait their turn.
Fortunately for them, I had no doubt they would enjoy the interim.
“It is not, I believe, enough to merely have the Crown of Winter returned to you. A slight has occurred which must stand corrected. You have my assurances that those responsible will be held accountable in a way that even the storied realm of the fae will take delight in. A point will be made.”
“How sharp a point, Your Highness?”
I turned, slightly lifting the back of my boot.
“A point as sharp as these heels will allow, Count Landin of the Frozen Hearth.”
The fae smiled.
And then, both he and the portal disappeared.
