Chapter 6

6

L ugh hadn't been lying. The next day, he woke me up at six again by pounding on the door. It didn't matter that the entire Court had been up until four partying. I had to be up and at ‘em, according to him. And he'd threatened to keep hammering on the wall if I tried to go back to sleep.

Despite waking at the crack of dawn, I was locked in my room until noon, at which point I was chaperoned over to the kitchen to clean up after lunch by a bushy-haired fae named Selma. Once I'd swept up every last crumb, I was hastily returned to my room. That continued for the rest of the day. And then the next. I'd get bustled out of my room to clean, have zero chance to speak to anyone, and then I had to go straight back.

The only fae who seemed to have any interest in getting to know me was Saoirse. She popped in to see me a few times a day and to smuggle in contraband like chocolate and pizza.

"You doing okay?" She quietly shut the door behind her.

"No," I said glumly. "I am really tired of watching Tipping Point reruns. I now know every answer to every pub quiz question that ever was."

She wrinkled her nose. "I'll admit this sucks. I'm loyal to King Lugh, but...if I'm honest, I think he's taking your trial period a tad too far."

I gave her a look. "My trial period should have been surviving a load of Sluagh."

"I'm sure he'll come around soon," she insisted. "He's just had a lot on his mind lately."

I sat up a little straighter. "Like what?"

Sighing, Saoirse popped a pizza box on the desk. The tempting aroma of pepperoni and cheese swirled into my nose, and my stomach grumbled. "You know I can't tell you that. Anyway, I'll try to talk to him. I might be able to convince him to give you more freedom in the castle."

Any freedom would be more freedom than this.

"Thanks, Saoirse."

"Don't thank me too much." She pointed at the pizza. "You better hurry up and eat that now. I'm here to collect you for your favourite thing in the entire world."

"Cleaning duty," I muttered. And then I dug into the pizza like it would vanish without a trace if it sat waiting for even a second longer.

S aoirse dropped me off in what I'd started referring to as the "servant" quarters. It was a tiny room at the far end of the residential building where the crew gathered before the daily cleaning duties. Inside, it held all of our supplies as well as a whiteboard, where everyone's names and tasks were listed. So far, I'd only seen it in passing. I'd merely been told what to do and moved on.

The bushy-haired fae who had been dispensing the tasks now stood before the whiteboard with her hair tied up in a frizzy bun. She tapped the whiteboard with a red marker. "We've got a busy day ahead. There's only twenty of us and three hundred of them."

I glanced around the room, wondering how these fae had ended up here. They couldn't all be newbies.

"First order of business. The king's out on his weekly visit to town," Selma continued as she scribbled on the board. "Time for his room clean. Any volunteers?"

A few murmurs spread through the room, but there weren't any takers.

I edged forward. "I'll do it."

I couldn't believe my luck. This was the perfect opportunity to get back on track with my spying mission. There must be something inside Lugh's room that could clue me in on what he had planned. Papers lying around. Rubbish he'd tossed in the bin. Big flashing neon signs he'd hung on the walls...

Selma snorted and slid the cap back on the whiteboard pen. "Absolutely not."

I crossed my arms. "Why is that? Because I'm new? I think I'm capable of making a bed, thank you very much, regardless of whose arse sleeps in it."

A murmur went through the cleaning crew.

Wicked amusement flickered in Selma's eyes. "Alright then. Think you're up to the task? Go ‘head. Clean the king's rooms. Imogen here will go with you."

Imogen towered over me at around six feet tall. She had bright pink hair, a nose piercing, and a swirling tattoo on her stomach, shown off by the cropped tank top she wore with black skinny jeans.

We both opened our mouths to argue. Me because I couldn't very well snoop through Lugh's stuff if I had someone watching my every move. And Imogen because, well...it seemed like the entire cleaning crew was pretty averse to the idea of tidying up the king's rooms.

"Nope!" Selma stopped us before we could get in a word. "Moira, you wanted to do it, so you're getting what you asked for. Imogen, you can't keep avoiding this task for the rest of your life. Now, go. Shoo. Get on with it, the both of you."

With a grumble in my direction, Imogen led me over to the cupboard full of cleaning supplies. We loaded up with bin bags, cleaning rags, and a hoover, and made the trek over to the Royal Palace. It was a commanding building inside the same square where the Great Hall had been built. In the middle, a small tower rose up above the flat roof, holding an ancient clock with golden arms.

We entered a small wooden door beneath an oversized wrought-iron lamp. Inside, Imogen led me down the red-carpeted floor to a grand arched door at the end of the hallway.

"You've gotten us into it now." Imogen balanced the bucket of cleaning supplies in her arms, and then kicked the door open. We strode inside, and I came to a sudden stop. The place was an absolute tip.

"What the hell?" I squeaked.

"Yep." She tossed me a bin bag. "Welcome to the wonderful task of cleaning up after Lugh. He's a great king, but..."

I bit back the urge to contradict her and gazed at the mess. "How long has it been since you last cleaned it?"

"A week. He always goes into town on Thursday mornings, and we like to clean it when he's not around to watch. It makes him grumpy."

I gawked. I couldn't help it. Lugh's living quarters were made up of three open-plan rooms. The living area stretched out just before us where two dominating sofas formed a V around a twenty gallon aquarium. The floors were beautiful, glistening hardwood, from what I could see, but every square meter hid beneath piles and piles of books. There were books on the sofas, books on the coffee table, and books sitting on top of lampshades.

If it hadn't been so messy, I would have been impressed. The lofted white ceiling was carved in intricate, antique designs and the wood-panelled walls were just as elaborate. Bronze candle-holders were scattered throughout, and the center stone fireplace took my breath away. It was big enough to fit an entire car inside of it. Above a mantlepiece, a golden horse and a silver lion held up a coat of arms between them. That same sigil was on it—the cloaked figure hidden in the mist.

I inched further into the room and looked to the right where Lugh's bedroom hid under...more books. The ivory sheets were on the floor, along with his pillows. Pens and pieces of parchment decorated the walls as if they'd been taped there haphazardly.

To the left was the kitchen, but no meals were cooked there.

It just held more books.

"Any idea what this is all about?"

Imogen was already busying herself. She'd made a stack of books by the archway separating the bedroom and the living room, and she seemed to be placing them into colour-coded piles.

"He's researching," she said firmly as her pink hair fell into her face. "Most of these books are hundreds of years old."

"I can see that," I coughed. The dust was as plentiful as the books.

Imogen stood and pointed toward the sofa. "Come on then. You were the one who wanted to clean his room. We start by sorting the books and stacking them in piles by the walls. We need to clear the floors and furniture, so we can give the place a good clean."

With a shake of my head, I got started. While Imogen focused on the living area, I headed into his bedroom to take a look around. She was right. Even if I wanted to snoop, there'd be nothing to see unless we cleared all this away.

As I grabbed the books from his bed, something caught my attention out of the corner of my eye. It was a glistening oak case tall enough to brush the top of the ceiling. I stepped back, surveying it with interest.

The case held a spear. Next to it sat a black shield with a hard boss of white bronze. It was a pretty basic looking shield, but the spear...

I took a step closer. It was one of the most beautiful weapons I'd ever seen. With its five points, it could do some serious damage. The heads were a dark bronze, each one tapering to fine and very sharp points. They were all fastened to a rowan shaft and latched into place by gleaming golden rivets. But the most interesting part about this spear wasn't the craft of it. It was the magic seeping out of the case.

It looked nothing like the spear from the Sluagh vaults. That had only had one tip, and it had been silver, not bronze.

But what were the odds? I wouldn't really call a spear a typical weapon of choice. Curious, I reached toward the handle.

"You can't touch that!" Imogen leapt toward me, her eyes wide and fearful. She grabbed my hand and yanked me away from the case.

"Whoa, calm down," I sputtered. "I was just taking a look."

She held up her hands, shaking her head as she stood firmly between me and the case. "You can not touch Lugh's spear."

I narrowed my eyes, but I nodded anyway. "Yeah. Okay, got it. I didn't know."

"Not even the case," she warned.

"Yep. Not even the case."

She gave an uneasy nod and then moved away before turning to get one more warning in. "It's locked, by the way. You wouldn't be able to open it, even if you wanted to. Just...don't try."

"Okay," I whispered, watching her trembling back as she rejoined the pile of books on the living room floor. As soon as her focus was off me, I risked another glance at the case, heart pounding.

Despite being a beautiful spear, I couldn't imagine what about it could inspire so much terror. It reeked of magic, but it was locked away, so it wasn't like it could actually get to us out here.

I flicked my eyes toward Imogen and then back at the spear. "So, what's the deal with this thing? Why do we have to stay away from the spear?"

Imogen glanced up, her pink hair falling into her eyes. "Because if you touch it, you'll burst into flames."

I blinked at her. Okay, I hadn't expected that. "Say what now?"

She let out a little giggle. "I'm just kidding. I don't actually know why we can't touch it."

"So then....what about all that....?" I waved my hands, referring to her frantic freak-out.

Her expression sobered. "Lugh doesn't want us near it, but I don't know why. All I know is he'll punish anyone who tries to even open the case. And his punishments are far worse than the trials. He tends to do it in secret, but...we've all heard the stories." She inclined her head toward my broom. "If I were you, I'd forget about the spear and start cleaning. Now."