“Don’t tell me of your plans,” Arsen hissed. “I’ve heard that tale before, time out of mind. That’s all the nobles do, they plan. To make themselves feel like they’re doing something, to be a sop to their consciences, while he plunders and mutilates and kills—”

“And what would you have us do?” the bearded fey asked, in a low voice. “You know better than most what happens to those who move against him. Why do you think he brought this here? Yes, he wants to provoke some rash action that will allow him to finally lay your family low. But this is a message to us, as well. Follow Arsen’s lead, and end up like these poor bastards, like his father before him—”

Arsen moved so fast that I didn’t even see him, and I currently was him. Yet it took me by surprise every bit as much as it seemed to do the bearded fey, when he was jerked off the ground and slammed into the wall. And held there, one handed, buy a furious prince.

“Do not dare to speak his name!”

“I haven’t, have I?” the bearded fey asked. His voice, worried and furtive a moment ago, was suddenly clear and cold. “But I do speak of his fate, and well I might. I would not see you suffer it, and spill your blood uselessly. And thereby play directly into the king’s hands. Aeslinn wants an excuse; your anger will give him one—”

Arsen abruptly released him, and only fey reflexes kept the portly figure from sprawling on the floor. But he kept his feet, and also kept talking, although it would have been more prudent to stop. And to fail to follow when Arsen strode off again, clearing the stone wave and passing into a tunnel of what looked like frozen water, but which I slowly realized was stone, too.

It looked like blue agate, but it wasn’t, at least not the Earth variety. It had a shiny, smooth surface, but instead of the usual mineral waves or quartz occlusions, this had… something else. Different bubbles of blue, some deep azure, some pale cerulean, some almost milky white, bumped against the surface all around us, splattering in odd, round shapes before disappearing again. It was like standing in the middle of a giant lava lamp, both beautiful and disturbing.

Only Arsen didn’t seem to notice, perhaps because the bearded fey had not chosen the better part of valor. Our arm was caught again, and this time, Arsen turned with a snarl. But the older fey did not back down.

“Your word.”

“I don’t owe it to you!”