Emily spent the next two days thinking and writing her aunt a letter. She took her writing desk to the castle gardens, which weren’t as nice as the ones at the monastery. The plants were carefully spaced and wore a hard-edged manicure that made them as interesting as the paintings in a doctor’s waiting room.
In her letter, Emily thanked Janice for raising her. She guessed it must have been difficult abiding by all the restrictions of the gambit. Though she mentioned learning about Janice’s humanity, she didn’t say much else about it. She could listen to her aunt’s story when they saw each other again.
On the third day, Emily and the hare were ushered into the presence of the king. He looked the same as he had in the mirror, tall and slim with pointed ears like any elf king in any storybook, seated on a dais in glittering robes.
The three of them stood alone in the hall and the hare’s voice echoed as he showed off his findings. Emily operated the camera, snapping a picture of the hare. The king stepped down to watch the image develop. His close presence made Emily nervous. It would be easier to talk to him from a distance. The finished photo showed a round glow like a moon behind the hare. Beams radiated from his brow.
“Impressive.” The king’s voice sounded like anyone’s. There was no weight of authority in it. “This would be useful in cataloguing subjects.”
“It would be useful in studying and indexing possible personal magics,” the hare grumbled. “Not in creating a police state.” Emily wondered how he knew what a police state was but didn’t know about the Fourth of July. “It’s a moot point anyhow, as we don’t have any more film than what Emily brought with her.”
The king looked at Emily for the first time. “This chosen one that you snuck in here so she could ask me a question? Girl, could you get us more film?”
Emily swallowed. “It would cost money, but I don’t see why it wouldn’t—”
“Money is not a problem. We can provide you with something that would work.” He flipped his hand. “No risk to you, of course.”
“Um.” Emily adjusted the camera strap and met the king’s eyes. “I’m not running your errands for nothing—”
“You could keep some of the money for yourself. Humans like money.”
Emily pulled back her chin, brows drawn. “Excuse me? If you know that I’m a chosen one then I’m betting that you know why I’m here and,” —she held up a hand as the king started to interrupt— “and you’ll know that I’m not stupid, you can’t buy me off, and I’m not human.” She crossed her arms and stared at the king. The hare fidgeted beside them, momentarily forgotten.
Not looking away from Emily, the king spoke to the hare. “If you’ll leave a copy of your report with my aide outside, I’ll go over it and get back to you tomorrow.”
Emily saw the hare bow out of the corner of her eye. He patted her knee as he left.
“Now you.” The king’s voice held no menace, only reined-in power. “We should talk.”
The king listened to Emily’s summary of events. She kept it short.
“So they’ve sent me here to request their return to the Sidhe. I don’t know if getting you film is a fair trade for such a large demand, but I’m sure you’ll think of something in addition.”
The king smiled. “So they didn’t die impoverished on the streets like we thought they might.”
“I suppose Janice helped them understand how to handle themselves.”
“Yes.” The king’s face sobered for a moment. “Of course, they didn’t end up ruling the mundane world like they bragged they would, either.”
“So?” Emily played with the camera strap again. She was tired of standing, tired of the whole thing, really. “Do they come back?”
“Girl…”
“I have a name.”
The king frowned. “And you’re going to give it to me?”
“No. If you heard the hare call me by the use name which I’m sure you know already, then you can use that, but stop addressing me as ‘girl.’” She felt a hollow flame beneath her ribs. Emily hadn’t had the angry teenage wars with her aunt; she’d been a quiet, competent student and employee. Confrontation with authority figures wasn’t something she had any practice with, but she sort of liked it. She felt the weight of the king’s gaze but didn’t look away.
“Alright. You understand that I have to think this over, both whether I will grant your request and what the price will be. I’ll have an answer for you tomorrow morning.”
Emily nodded.
The king turned and walked back to the dais. “You can leave.”
Emily waited in her room until she couldn’t stand it anymore, then went down to the kitchens. She needed to do something and the multi-limbed pastry chef happily put her to work filling cookies.
“Where does all this food go?” Emily carefully piped jam into the soft hollows of cloud-white balls of dough. “The castle seems pretty empty, and it’s not like you all have to eat.”
“Sometimes we make food just to make it. What else would we do?” The creature rolled out fondant with one set of arms and shaped translucent flowers with another. “But the castle is much bigger than you think and there are more people here than you can see.”
“When you live forever, dearie, it’s nice to have things to do,” the cook added, standing on a stool to stir something bubbling in a giant pot. “It may not be bodily necessary, but making food and eating it can help keep the mind intact.”
The pastry chef shook their head. “Infinity can be a terrible thing.”
The next morning, she was in her room when a page came for her. She quickly slipped a folded piece of paper that said “I’m seeing the king” into the letter slot of the writing desk. Following the page to the throne room, her nerves felt burned away.
Again, the king sat on his dais in an empty room. Emily walked up to what she figured was a respectful distance and waited.
“I have decided to let your people return.”
“Thank you.” Emily bowed awkwardly.
“I have also decided the price.” The king raised his hand and a guard entered, leading a woman with her arms bound in front of her. Like the king, she was looked like an elf you’d see in movies, too-pale skin and catwalk beauty. “This woman instigated the civil war between my brother and I. She drove a wedge between us with jealousy and caused a woman I loved to be banished.” The guard brought the queen before the dais. “The price for granting your petition is to kill her for me.”
Emily felt like a cartoon animal that had run off the edge of a cliff, leaving its skin behind as it plummeted. “Kill her? Dead?”
“That’s normally how the process works, even for the Folk.” The king’s eyes were laughing. “I can’t kill her myself because she’s my bride, but I would like her dead. It shouldn’t be that difficult for you since she’s the one who marooned your people in the mundane world and brought about the war that killed your parents.”
“You can’t kill your bride, but you can kill your own brother?” Emily couldn’t believe what she was saying.
“I didn’t kill him; he was killed. That’s a key difference that’s fuelled monarchies for ages. But it doesn’t matter what the rules are. Wanting her dead is my whim. This is the price for what you ask.”
Emily glanced at the queen. She didn’t seem to care that she was the subject of conversation and stared across the room, looking bored.
“I want it in writing.”
“What?” The king raised an eyebrow.
“I said I want the deal in writing. And before you ask—no, I don’t trust your word. Not with what’s at stake. I want to look over the written contract at my leisure before I sign.” Emily tried to project confidence. “If I sign.”
“You sure do want a lot for somebody already making a heavy deal.”
“It’s part of the package. Any dealmaker of worth wouldn’t blink at what I’m asking unless they were trying to screw me over.” Emily folded her arms over the crashing, empty space in her middle. “Are you trying to screw me over?”
The king glared at her and then Emily was in her room at the castle, a clearly lettered scroll on the table beside her. With surprisingly steady hands she unbound the scroll and began to read it.
This post is part of The Audacity Gambit – Serialised. Learn more about when the book was first published here, see the archive and overall content warnings here, and find more of my writing here. I’m over on both Comradery and Patreon, if you feel like supporting my creative endeavours. If you’d like to subscribe to this story, here’s a handy email box for you: