Wickedly Wonderful(71)

The High King shifted on his bench, no longer smiling. “Are you questioning the Queen’s word, Boudicca?” His expression grew as dark as his neatly pointed beard.

“Certainly not, Your Highness,” Boudicca said, hurriedly dropping a curtsy and bowing her head. “I was merely expressing dismay at the thought that any of our subjects might be behaving in ways that have offended Your Majesties.”

Nice save, Beka thought. But what the hell is going on, and why am I the one who has to fix it?

“We have received reports,” the Queen continued, ignoring the interruption, “telling of magical creatures who are actively working against the Humans in the region. Not many, as yet, but those who are doing so are breaking Our rules, which specifically forbid malicious behavior that might draw attention to the existence of those of Us who are Other.”

Beka swallowed hard, remembering her conversation with Kesh about how he and his friends were driving away the fish from their normal routes. Surely that wasn’t worthy of the Queen’s ire—it wasn’t as though the fishermen had blamed anything other than the weather or bad luck for their lack of good catches. And Kesh was the King’s son; there was no way he would be involved with renegades. She’d talk to him when she got home. But surely not.

“Uh, is there some reason that you believe that there are Selkies and Mer involved?” Beka asked.

The Queen shrugged, one elegant shoulder moving barely more than a millimeter in a rustle of silk. “Those are the tales We are told by those who remain in the mundane world. Your own mentor Brenna returned from a recent visit and spoke of a Mermaid who was spotted singing to men on a boat and trying to lure them onto the rocks, as in the days of old. And let Us speak true here—most of those remaining on that side of the doorway are Selkies and Mer, who could not come with the rest when We withdrew the majority of our people back to the safety of this world. Who else could be responsible for this disturbance?”

“If this is so, why bring the Baba Yaga into it?” Gwrtheyrn asked, his proud face haughty and affronted. “Do you not trust us to control our own people?”

The King held up a pacifying hand. “It is not a matter of trust, King Gwrtheyrn. But We have heard that some of these renegades may have ties high up in your government and deep into the remaining local paranormal community as well. We thought it best to have someone from the outside look into this, so you might avoid conflict within your court at a time when you need most to come together in unity.”

“Ah,” Gwrtheyrn said, subsiding. Boudicca just looked depressed.

“Baba Yaga,” the Queen said, standing up and speaking loudly, so that her voice rang clearly throughout the chamber. “We call on you to discover the identity and whereabouts of these troublemakers who threaten to expose the existence of the underworld dwellers in your territory, and to either put a stop to them yourself or bring the information here to Us so that We might summarily deal with them Ourselves.” The expression on her wintery visage left no doubt of the finality of her brand of justice.

“In addition, We expect you, with no further delay, to find and resolve the problem with the Merpeople’s and Selkies’ home waters, so that they might return there in all due haste, since it is Our opinion that it is likely that the disruption to their heretofore stable lives has led to this most unwise and potentially destructive behavior.”

The Queen drew herself up to her full height, looking even more glorious and more imposing than usual, and stared directly at Beka. “Do not fail me in this, Baba Yaga. I will not tolerate anything that threatens the safety of Our secrets, which We have sacrificed so much to keep hidden from the Humans all these long years. Have I made myself clear?”

Beka nodded, afraid to speak. She prayed her silence would be perceived as calm strength, instead of the paralyzed abject terror that it was.

“I realize that this is much to ask of one so young and new to her position,” the Queen said in a less oratory voice. There was even a hint of kindness, and something like regret as she added, “But this is too important to be left unresolved. If you cannot manage the tasks I have given you, I shall be forced to allow Brenna to come out of retirement to handle it.” She sighed. “I assure you, this is the very last thing I would wish; Brenna was becoming somewhat . . . problematic . . . in her later years, and it was only with great difficulty that I persuaded her to retire at all. She insisted until the very end that you were not prepared to assume the mantle of Baba Yaga. I sincerely hope that you do not prove her right.”