In Ashes Lie Read Online Free PDF Page B

England—
    Ah. Of England, and of the monarchy. Which she had once sworn to defend, many years ago, when an Englishwoman still sat upon the throne. Such rebellion to the will of the Crown would not sit well with her. But Lune was not fond of the man who wore that crown; she knew Charles’s flaws as well as Antony did. What she overlooked was how reluctance would serve England better than obedience would. “For ten years now, Charles has ruled without the advice of Parliament,” he reminded her.
    A sniff came from the cluster of listeners. Boldly, Lady Nianna said, “Her Majesty rules without need of a Parliament.”
    “Her Majesty rules a realm with fewer subjects than my ward,” Antony snapped back, angered at the interruption. Grimacing, he made a quick bow of apology to Lune. “England has many thousands of inhabitants—hundreds of thousands in the vicinity of London alone. One man, even advised by councillors, cannot fairly oversee so much. And Parliament, the House of Commons especially, has long been the means by which the people may speak, and make their needs known to their sovereign. But he discarded that tradition when it became inconvenient to him.”
    The Queen had stiffened at his reply to Nianna; now she watched him impassively. Antony hesitated, then played a dangerous card. “He would rule as your predecessor did—his will absolute, with none to gainsay him.”
    Anger flared in those silver eyes. “Do not make comparisons where you are ignorant,” Lune said, her voice cold. “You know nothing of this court in those times.”
    “I know what you have told me,” Antony said, meeting her without flinching. “And I know why you asked me to rule at your side, bestowed upon me the title I bear. So that we could work together for the benefit of all, both mortal and fae. Very well: I come before you, as Prince of the Stone, and tell you that London needs this. England needs this.”
    It was easy to be overawed in the presence of a faerie queen. The Prince was the Queen’s consort, though, and bore his own authority in this court. They had gone to loggerheads before, when Antony felt his duty demanded it; Lune had chosen him for that reason, because he would stubbornly defend the mortal concerns she might otherwise forget. Because she could trust him to do so only when necessary.
    He met her gaze, and did not back down.
    A faint shadow appeared along her jaw where a muscle tightened and then released. This confrontation might have been inevitable, but he could at least have arranged for privacy. It felt too much like coercion, asserting his rank before her ladies, forcing her to acknowledge his right to ask this favor. He would apologize for that later.
    “Very well,” Lune said at last, through her teeth. “We will see to it that those who waver are swayed against the loan.”
    The royal we, or the faerie one? Either way, he had what he wanted, though not gracefully. Antony offered her a sincere bow. “My thanks. In exchange, I will likewise do what I can to turn opinion against the Covenanters.”
    There was a gleam in Lune’s eye he could not interpret—anger given way to something like amusement. “Indeed you will. If this goes as you hope, and Charles summons a new Parliament, then we expect you to be there.”
    He blinked. “In Parliament?”
    “You are not a peer, and you have few connections in the countryside; you will have to fight for one of London’s seats in the Commons. But that is fitting: you will sit for London’s faerie inhabitants, as the others sit for the mortals.”
    Antony had not thought that far. There was, admittedly, no reason he could not do as she asked. Except that the long delay since the last Parliament left him with little sense of that world—how to get into it, and what to do once he was there.
    It could not be so different from the Court of Aldermen. And although he was used to thinking of himself as the envoy of mortals to the fae, he could cross that