Jinokimijin brought them to a greenhouse garden in a crystal cupola surmounting a palace tower. The garden was overgrown but with a wild beauty to it, a fascinating blend of organic growth with the regularity of aether. The Sun King took a seat on a curved bench, one of two, and waved a hand in invitation to the other. He glanced at her now-empty arm. “Oh, good, it didn’t come with you.”

“It’s been hanging around me for the last hundred miles. Did you give it a flight speed spell?”

“…no.”

“It’s got one now.”

“Ah.” Jino looked out the cut-crystal walls of the cupola at the sky around his Etherium. “I am certain it can’t access its own powers without an extractor. But of course it’s fey now, so it can use aether. Records do say that animals would do so instinctively, back in the days before the Sundering, when Etherium rulers sometimes affiliated beasts.” He paused. “For the record, I am absolutely confident that bird cannot trigger another Sundering-level catastrophe all by itself. But if it does, I am truly very sorry.” Ardent eyed him. Jino covered his face with one hand. “Miro says it has a soul.”

“It does?” Ardent blinked.

“Yes. Not like a fey or mortal soul; more like one of the rare golems who do. Still. After that, I was even less inclined to kill it, and Miro said you and he had agreed to free it. It seemed the best solution. Perhaps I applied it too hastily.”

“Huh. So mortals have souls, too? And golems?”

“Not most golems. Just a few. He didn’t tell you?” Jinokimijin took his hand from his eyes and watched Ardent.

“He didn’t tell me he could see souls until the day before you took him away. We didn’t have a lot of time to talk about it,” Ardent said.    

“Ah. Well. Mortals have souls just like fey. Exactly like fey. As in, Miro cannot tell fey and mortal apart by soulsight.”

“That’s…unsettling.”

“Isn’t it, though? Ever think about what you would be like if you not only had no aether, but didn’t have fey invulnerability, or evasion, or elusiveness, or immortality?”

Ardent smiled briefly. “When I was young, fey weren’t immortal. So that one’s pretty easy.”

“Yes. We weren’t always as good at the rest as we are now, or at least so all these quasi-historical immersions would have me believe.”    

“That, I don’t remember. White Rose agrees, though, and they would.”

“Oh? Who’re they?”

“The Moon Etherium’s Archivist. They’re, um, about a century older than me, so around 350 now, I guess.”

Jino blinked at her. “In truth? I didn’t know there were any fey that old still alive.”

“There’s no one older who argues with them, anyway.” Ardent shrugged. “They were old when I was a little kid, and that was back when old fey still showed their age. White Rose was the oldest fey anyone knew then, too. When the Moon King made himself unaging, I used to ask White Rose if they already knew the secret of immortality, and the Moon King had taken it from them. I don’t think they did, but they never would answer me about that.”

“I wish I’d had a chance to talk to them while I was in the Moon Etherium.” Jino sighed. “Not likely to be back any time soon, under the circumstances.”

“Hah. Why did you let the phoenix rose go, Jinokimijin?”

“Because I’d done what I needed to do with it. And Miro had told you he would see it freed.”

“‘What you needed’ being the Sun Etherium throne?”

“No. That was just a means to an end. I’d step down if Miro would take it. He’d be a better king, but he’s too smart to take the job. I don’t suppose you fancy the post, Lady Ardent?”

She laughed. “Hah. Not a chance.”

“I knew it. He said you were clever.” Jinokimijin spread his hand over his breastbone. “I needed the Heart of the Etherium to free the enslaved mortals, and I needed to stop Ele before she brought the entire Etherium down to her level. It kills you, you know, living with injustice, day after day, year after year, and pretending it’s fine. Because it’s not happening to you. Because they’re only mortals, and it’s not like they had great lives before. Everyone knows mortals do worse to each other, right? Or they’re just ordinary fey, and destroying their reputations isn’t like killing them. They’ll live. I mean, if they don’t kill themselves, and if they do, it’s not your fault. You didn’t stab them. All you did was watch. And maybe laugh a little, just so the ones in power would know you were on their side, and not take you next. Or maybe you laugh a lot. No one else thinks it matters, right? So what gives you the right to judge? And bit by bit, your soul sickens and erodes.”    

“Adorable, in a cruel kind of way,” Katsura had said to her. Ardent said, “Miro said the Sun Etherium was worse than the Moon.”

Jinokimijin nodded. “It was.” He turned over his right arm to look at the smooth, unbroken golden skin, where Fallen had once branded him. “Even for me. Believe it or not.”

Ardent shuddered and leaned back. “You really think deposing the queen will fix everything?”

Jino laughed. “Oh, no. No. If only. It’s a start, though. At least slavery’s illegal again.”

“Wouldn’t that be easier to enforce with the phoenix rose?”

“Yes. Everything’s easier with overwhelming force. Would you trust yourself with that power, Lady Ardent?”

She shook her head.

“Me either. That’s why I had to let it go now. As soon as I put the seven of them into exile. Ele, Fallen, and the worst of Ele’s cohorts. I used the phoenix rose to remove their invulnerability, evasion, and elusiveness, then scattered them thousands of miles away. It’s so satisfying to just act. To be the one to judge and then put that judgment into action. For six days, I was the one unstoppable force in the Sun Etherium, and when people tried to oppose me, I showed them just how futile it was. I could have used another two weeks of that, my lady. Or two months. But the worst are gone. And somebody needs to be able to check me, or I’ll be a worse tyrant than any of them.” Jino spread his hands. “So I let it go. It was convenient that I could fulfill my son’s oath in doing so.”

“Huh.” She watched him, skeptical, considering.

The Sun King dropped his eyes first. “I know you did not choose to help me. I used you, as I used my son, as I used most of the people in my life, without giving them all the details. Because I would not risk the exposure of my plans, or my pawns. Mistrust is the price I pay for that now. Understood. But—” He lifted his head and met Ardent’s gaze. “I know my son pledged his service to you, my lady, without limitation. If you feel he wronged you, then please know he did so because I asked him to. With all the persuasive force a father can muster over his only child. If you wish revenge, then take it on me. Please spare him.” The Sun King stood, only to kneel at her hooves. “I know I can’t stop you from doing as you will with him, but I beg you to free him instead. Name your price, and I will pay it. Please.” He closed his eyes. “Please.”

Ardent resisted her first impulse to sympathy. “You went to the Moon Etherium as Fallen’s prisoner deliberately. You always knew she had the phoenix rose. You knew Miro would ask me for help, and when we got the phoenix rose away from her, you planned for him to give it to you.”

Jino flinched at her tone, nodded. “Yes.”

He could have died. Ardent leaned forward, and said, very softly, “Little late now to convince me that Mirohirokon is the most important thing in your life. Your majesty.”

The Sun King closed his eyes, still kneeling. “Please.”

Ardent stood. “I want to see Miro. Now.”

---

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About a half-mile outside the city, the phoenix rose took off, though she caught glimpses of it overhead now and again.

Ardent arrived at the Sun Etherium in the late afternoon, and was amazed by how little it had changed since the last time she’d been here, a decade ago. Half of the Moon Etherium would be brand-new and different every time she saw it, even if it had only been a year or two since her last visit. But the Sun Etherium was still a glittering jewel of cut crystal and gold and white set in its bed of aether on the plains. The Palace of the Sun was still its tallest feature, a fanciful palace in a crystal globe at the top of a spire.

No, wait, she thought, as she closed on it. It’s no longer the tallest feature. Three other towers rose higher now, at asymmetrical heights and angles. And a pair of skyships floated in the once-empty Etherium skies. New colors bloomed among the gold and white, like flowers: red, indigo, blue, pink, as roofs or accent colors on buildings

The main thoroughfare through the city, the golden spoke that led from the outskirts to its center, had been as popular as the Moon Etherium’s Promenade as a place to see and be seen. When Ardent entered the city by it, she realized it still was. As she walked the street, she slowed, taking the measure of the city. The other streets were deserted, but many fey used this one. With its little sidewalk cafes, shade trees, and park benches, it was a pleasant place to while away the time. Individual appearances varied more than Ardent remembered. Adults ranged in height from just under five feet to almost seven, and builds varied from delicate to plump to brawny. She wondered if that had changed, or if she’d grown more attentive to minor differences after her time with Miro. More Sun Host fey sported non-human features as well, although the city was still homogenous in comparison with the Moon Etherium. The greatest variety came from the occasional barbarian in their midst.

The Sun Host fey watched Ardent; with curiosity, she thought, not hostility. The mood in the city was far livelier than she’d expected, given the recent coup. With enhanced senses, she caught scraps of conversations. To her surprise, folks spoke openly of the coup: some in praise of their king, and some condemning his use of force to subdue his enemies. “At least he hasn’t killed anyone,” one waitress said. “And I’m sure he could have.”

“That’s what you think. I heard the crown princess is dead.”

“She is not. I took her aether signature myself. She was exiled with her mother.”

From a different group: “What’d that Fallen character ever do that we should be exiling her? She’s not even Sun Host!”

“I heard some stories, let me tell you…”

Others discussed Ardent herself: “Is that Ardent Sojourner?” “No, it can’t be her. Some imitator of her look.” “I heard she helped the King catch the phoenix rose.” “Oh, so this mess is all her fault, is it?”

About halfway to the palace, a fey man teleported onto the street a few paces away from her. “Welcome to the Sun Etherium, Lady Ardent Sojourner.”

She glanced at him, and stopped with her heart in her mouth, because he looked so much like Miro had when dressed for the Moon Court. The biggest difference was this stranger had Miro’s everyday indigo hair, instead of white-blond locks. And the face was – similar, but different, more squared-off. He offered an apologetic smile so like Miro’s that her heart twisted. “I forget, I have the advantage of you; I wore quite different features the last time we met. I am Jinokimijin, King of the Sun Host.”

“Your majesty.” Part of her didn’t want to kneel, but Ardent did anyway. “I am honored. Does your majesty personally greet every barbarian visitor to the city?”

“Only the ones who saved me from durance vile and assisted in my ascension to the throne. Please, rise, my lady.”

Ardent stood. She folded her arms and took a step closer to tower over Jino. “I wasn’t trying to help with your coup.”

“I know. But you did mean to rescue me, and I thank you for that, Lady Ardent.”

“I didn’t come for your thanks, either. I came to see Mirohirokon.” Her voice broke on his name. She swallowed and fought to ask in a level tone, “How is he?”

The Sun King’s expression sobered. “Alive, my lady. But not well. I will not keep you from him. But I would speak with you first, if I may?”

Movement in the sky caught her eye, and Ardent glanced up to see the phoenix rose perch on the rail of a balcony overlooking the street. She took a step back from Jinokimijin, raised her arm, and clucked. The phoenix rose glided down to land on her forearm. It cooed. Ardent looked to Jinokimijin. “All right. Talk.”

The Sun King stared at the phoenix rose, verified it, then stared at Ardent. “How could you – it’s fey – how did you catch it?”

“Didn’t. It came to me.” Ardent held her index finger out to it. The bird pecked at it, then rubbed the side of its head against the tip.

“Hah. Ah hah. Apparently, I did not think of everything.” Jinokimijin offered his hand. “Will you come with me to the palace to talk?”    

She eyed his hand, considering, then gave a mental shrug and took it. The phoenix rose flapped away from her arm just before Jino teleported the two of them away.

---

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Ardent had been walking for an hour or so when she decided to take a break. She was in one of the nicer sections of the Broken Lands. The well-trodden path wended through a forest of tall trees in a bizarre mix of varieties: towering redwoods next to bamboo and palm trees. She’d made her ears goat-like again days ago, fashionable or not, but forgotten to restore her callouses when she left the Moon Etherium. Her subconscious probably hoped she wouldn’t want them at the Sun Etherium. She sighed at herself. At least her hooves were still as tough as ever, and with modern traveling boots, the journey would only take a couple of hours.

Ardent sat on a fallen log beside a break in the tree cover, and took a beef-stuffed bun from her pack. She ate part of it, noticed a few sparrows watching her eat, and tore off a few little bites to throw to them. A few more birds arrived to fight for crumbs, so she tore off more pieces for them. Then she noticed a big cream-white bird circling overhead, with purple streaks outlining its pinions, and long slim tail feathers streaming behind it in the wind. Ardent stared. “No.”    

She walked into the clearing, still staring up at the sky. The cream-and-purple bird dropped lower, and landed on a branch of one of the conifers, peering back at her. Ardent clucked at it, and held out a bite of bread in one hand.

The animal glided the several yards between them to land on her outstretched arm. Fey-invulnerable skin dented beneath its purple talons, but didn’t mar. The phoenix rose poked its beak at the bite of bread, but sat back on her forearm instead of eating it. It ruffled its feathers as it settled in. “What. All right. Just. What. There is no way I stumbled across a phoenix rose in the middle of the fey shard. One who just happened to decide to perch on me. You’re a fey in phoenix-rose shape?” She cast the verification spell to learn its aether signature. It did have one. The signature had a few of the properties of a Sun fey turned barbarian, but otherwise looked nothing like any aether signature she’d ever seen before. Ardent spent aether to put a cage around the animal.

It evaded the cage to circle over her head, with an irritated coo. “Jino did not.” She tried to pin the bird with aether, and it evaded her spell again, then came down and landed on her head. “You must be a fey. I refuse to believe that Jino affiliated the phoenix rose with the Sun Etherium and then kicked it out.” She shook her head, and it jumped off, then landed on her shoulder. “No. That’s just…no. He worked too hard to get that bird.” Ardent cast spell after spell to enhance her senses, to reveal spellwork, to pierce any glamour or shift. She even checked for a trueshift, although the animal was far too small to be any trueshifted fey older than a toddler. The phoenix rose possessed fey evasion, fey invulnerability, and fey elusiveness, so it could not be touched, harmed, or imprisoned against its will. It did not have fey immortality. It had a spell to increase its flight speed and maneuverability. And that was it. It was exactly the bird it looked like it was.

Ardent threw her head back and laughed. The phoenix rose gave a querulous coo, then buried its head in her thick mass of kinky hair. Still shaking her head, Ardent continued on her way to the Sun Etherium.    

---

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Ardent returned to her apartment to grab a few things to make traveling the Broken Lands less annoying, and to leave her aether-hungry locket and other items behind. It wasn’t hard to pick out the things she wanted to bring. She’d been a barbarian for the last fourteen years: she travelled light.

She sent messages to several people to let them know she was leaving and wasn’t sure when she’d be back, and didn’t respond to most of their replies. Ardent answered a few from the Queen, who wanted to know if she should be worried about the Sun Host army (“1: it’s not an army. 2: No.”) and when Ardent was coming back. “If and when I feel like it, Skein. I know, it’s a mess here. But you know what? It’s not my mess. And I think it’s past time I started dealing with the mess I did make. Love, Ardent. PS: I’m resigning my affiliation again, so you don’t need to threaten to kick me out.”

But when Rain messaged her, Ardent stopped packing to invite Rain to the apartment.

The satyress sat at the dining room table, picking through the contents of her locket, when Rain appeared above the collection, butterfly wings fluttering. Ardent leaned back to look up at her. “I guess you always knew I wasn’t staying.”

“Are you going to find out what happened to Mirohirokon finally?” Rain asked.

Ardent half-smiled. “Yes.”

“Good.” Rain nodded decisively. “You’ve been moping around here too long. And you care about him.”

“Mph. What makes you think I care about him?”

“You call him ‘honey’.”

“Honey, I call everyone honey. In case you didn’t notice.”

A sudden smile lit Rain’s blue lips. “No, you don’t.” She landed on the table before Ardent, and crouched to touch Ardent’s mouth. “You call everyone ‘sugar’. And ‘kid’, and ‘sweetie’. You only call the people you love ‘honey’.”

“Oh.” Ardent blinked at her. “Really?”

Rain nodded. “For thirty-two years, Ardent.”

“Guess you know I still love you, then. Honey.”

Rain slid into Ardent’s lap and rested her head under the satyress’s chin. “I knew that when you never got married again.”

“You’re hard to replace, love.” Ardent closed her arms around the other woman’s slight form, butterfly wings folding neatly under her embrace. They looked so delicate, but they weren’t. Not at all.

“It’s not a matter of replacing.”

“I know.”

“I wish…I wish I’d said no to Fallen a long time ago, Ardent. I especially wish I hadn’t let her use me against you. I’m sorry.”

Ardent dipped her head into Rain’s silky blue hair, and breathed in her scent. “I wish you hadn’t, too. But I still love you. And I’m glad you came to face her with us at the end.”

Rain nodded against Ardent’s chest, and sighed. “All right. You go find Mirohirokon. Tell him I’m sorry, too. I never wanted anyone to get hurt. And if there’s ever anything I can do to make amends…let me know. I love you too, Ardent.” She sat up and pulled Ardent’s head down for a long, lingering kiss.

Then she was gone.

Ardent sighed. After wrangling her hooves into a pair of traveling boots, she announced three times to the aether: “I am quit with you, Moon Etherium.” It was all the ritual required to dissolve an affiliation. It always felt like there should be more. Ardent sighed and ported to the edge of the Etherium.

---

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It had been a week since Jinokimijin had taken his captive and his son from the Moon Etherium, and only Duty kept Ardent there. Duty and, perhaps, Justice.

She’d rescued nineteen enslaved mortals from the Moon Etherium, which was work worth doing even if nothing else was. They deserved better than glamour-addled minds, sexual slavery, and the particularly vile ‘games’ that one secretive club had used them as playing pieces in. It was work that would have been much easier to do with Miro there to help.

She missed Miro, and hated herself for missing him. In her mind, she went back and forth trying to decide if everything he’d told her was a lie, or if he’d been a dupe of his father’s, or something else entirely. And was he still alive? He had to still be alive. If the phoenix rose could steal the Heart of the Etherium from its queen, it could surely cure someone of over-channeling. He’d still been alive when Jino took him. The news from the Sun Etherium had frustratingly little about Mirohirokon, but he was the crown prince now, the King’s only son. If he’d died, that would be news.

In spare moments, Ardent pecked at the other questions that badgered her. Folks who’d been to the Sun Etherium agreed with Miro’s assessment of his mother. She’d run the Sun Etherium openly the way Fallen had run the Moon Etherium covertly. Some felt sorry for her, being deposed, or reviled Jinokimijin for his illegal coup. But none of them actually wanted the Sun Queen back on her throne.

Play Until Collapsing Dreams started farspeaking Ardent again after Fallen’s dismissal from the Moon Court. Ardent invited the other fey to drop by her apartment.

“I see you haven’t fixed the wards yet,” Play remarked, as soon as she teleported in. She was still all in white, and wearing a tall, muscular form instead of her more usual slender self.

Ardent shrugged from where she sat, sprawled in her couch pit. It’d only taken a few minutes to repair the cosmetic damage to the walls, but ripping out the ruptured wards and replacing them would take hours. “Too busy with everything else. I’m not keeping anything valuable here.”

“Except yourself.”

“Yeah, well, anyone who can get through fey invulnerability won’t be deterred by a few little spells, either.”

“It’s not just about stopping intruders. It’s about giving you some warning.”

Ardent smiled at last. “It’s good to see you haven’t really changed, Play. How’s Storm?”

“Grieving.” Play sighed and slid into a feline curl in the couch pit across from Ardent. “We’ve got recorded images of The Marvel, you know, but it’s…not the same. He could rebuild it, in less time that it took to make it the first time, but it’s years of work. And what if something like this happens again? I need to be able to promise him it won’t. That nothing like this will ever happen again. And I don’t know how to do that. Short of capturing my own phoenix rose. Which has occurred to me, believe me.” The white catgirl stared at Ardent. “Is Fallen coming back?”

“I don’t think so.” Ardent sighed. “I was as perceptive as a flying mole when it came to Miro, mind you. But they were definitely using me to target Fallen. They hauled her all the way to the Sun Etherium. She’s useless to them now, but I don’t see them letting her run home to lick her wounds and plot revenge.”

“Good.” Play bared pointed teeth in a snarl. Even the inside of her mouth was white. “I hope they kill her.”

Ardent crinkled her nose. “That’s a lot of retribution for one sculpture, sugar.”

“I’m not talking about just one sculpture and you know it. She’s poison. She deserves death.”

The satyress didn’t argue further. She wouldn’t’ve killed Fallen herself, but she sure wasn’t going to mourn her. And it was out of her hands, anyway. “Oh, right.” She fished the tracer golem and Ocyale mirror out of her locket and rose to hand them back. “It was still tracing Fallen for a couple of days after Jino grabbed her, before it ran out of sun aether. She never left the Sun Etherium.”

Play made her gesture of ownership over the tracer golem as she accepted it. “I have to get myself one of those Sun channels for experimenting, one of these days.”

“Hah. I don’t think they’re gonna be so easy to come by as they were a week ago.” Ardent moved to sit beside Play, and put a hand on her side. “Play, thank you. For helping me out. I never would’ve gotten the phoenix rose out of Fallen’s hands otherwise.”

Play met her eyes. “You figure it’s better off in Jino’s?”

Ardent crinkled her nose. “I dunno. Yes. I think so. Fallen meant to destroy an Etherium. If Jino had planned to do that, he would’ve already, when the Moon Etherium and the Sun Etherium were both depleted. Now there’re no High Court channels in either Etherium. I dunno if he’ll be any good for the Sun Etherium, but this’s better for us.” I hope. “And if it was a mistake, it was mine, not yours, and I appreciate you helping me just the same. I’m sorry I got you and Storm hurt.”

“Yeah.” Play dropped her gaze. “You know I didn’t blame you, right? You’re not responsible for Fallen being a vicious little monster. It was just…I was scared.”

“I know. And you did right, helping me without letting Fallen know that’s what you were doing.”

“Heh. So you did notice that.”

“You know I did.” Ardent smiled, then sobered again. “And…Storm? Does he blame me? He doesn’t have me blocked but I haven’t heard from him since.”

“No, he doesn’t blame you.” Play’s voice was low. She swallowed. “I think maybe he blames me, though. Not in so many words. He hasn’t really talked about it. But I’m the expert. I’m the one who’s made him live in a fortress for years because I want to be careful. And then I let this happen.”

“‘Let’ ain’t exactly the word, sugar.” Ardent gathered Play up in a hug. “I don’t know how anyone would protect against what Fallen was doing with that bird. Storm’s gotta understand that.”

Play leaned into her and sighed. “He does. Maybe I’m the one who doesn’t. Garbage like this isn’t supposed to happen, Ardent. You know I’m not the type to throw up my hands and say ‘no help for it!’ I am not quitting. There’s a counterspell that’ll work even against exceptions like that Justice-deprived extractor. And I’m going to find it.”

Ardent held her close, smiling. “I bet you will, too, sugar.”

§

Ardent had seen Whispers Rain a couple of times in the ensuing days, too. They tried to talk. It didn’t go very well. Ardent wanted to forgive her. She came to my side, at the end, and risked herself to stand up to Fallen. Even Miro’d told her he forgave her.

But: Rain betrayed me, and he could have died because of that. He could have spent the rest of his life as Fallen’s slave.

And: he lied to me. Why should I care so much about what might have been? Why should I hold a grudge when he didn’t?

A part of Ardent still loved Whispers Rain, but she didn’t know how to trust her again.

I just want to go back to Try Again and forget all this.

But Ardent stayed anyway, doing what she could to fix the mess in the Moon Etherium, and wondering if it wasn’t as hopeless now as it had been when she’d been there fourteen years ago.

On the afternoon of the seventh day, the army from the Sun Host arrived at the outskirts of the Moon Etherium. Its leader wanted to speak with the Moon Queen, and with Ardent Sojourner.

§

Ardent teleported to the ridgeline to see for herself. She half-expected the whole thing was a prank by the random Moon Host denizen who’d passed the message along. It was not a literal army, fortunately. It wasn’t even mostly Sun Host. There were twenty-one Sun Host fey, plus a hundred or so of the most mortal-looking barbarian fey Ardent had ever seen, plus a couple hundred actual mortals. They were a disorderly mob, gathered in conversational groups. By their appearance they covered the entire range of mortal ages, from babes-in-arms to small children to stooped, elderly ones.

A couple dozen of the barbarian fey wore armor of mortal styles and bore mortal weapons. There was no cohesion to them – the armor and weapons were those of a dozen different worlds. Ardent could not think of a single sensible reason for this. If the Sun King wanted a fight, he had the phoenix rose. What difference would a handful of armed fey make?

She shrugged inwardly, landed at the top of the ridge, and walked down to meet the host. Moon Host fey gathered within the aether to watch. Every fey was used to being immortal, invulnerable, and impossible to imprison, but the events of the last week had shaken everyone’s confidence. Ardent knew they were nervous. She didn’t feel great about this situation either.

Members of the mob of newcomers whispered amongst themselves as she approached. For no reason, some started to bow in her direction, after a dozen different mortal fashions: dropping to one or both knees, or pressing forehead to the earth, or curtseying, or bowing with arms together or at their sides.

One of the Sun fey, a large man dressed in their high court regalia, walked to meet her. His only concession to the aether-poor Broken Lands was his long white hair gathered into a doubled braid instead of floating behind him. One of the strangely mortal-looking fey walked next to him. She wasn’t wearing armor, but instead a multi-layered gown. “I am Tiqodomiqon, Justiciar of the Sun Host,” the Sun fey said. “Do I have the honor of addressing the Lady Ardent Sojourner?”

“I dunno how much of an honor it is, kid, but yeah, that’s me. What’s going on?”

“May I verify you?”

“Be my guest.” She waited while he cast the spell to take her aether signature.

“Lady Sojourner.” He kneeled to her, with a motion to the crowd behind him. All the ones who weren’t already kneeling did so. The barbarian fey next to him lifted her layered skirts and curtsied with her head bowed.

“Uh. If this is for my benefit, please stop,” Ardent told them. “What are you doing?”

“Please allow me to present Diani of Cairwelint,” Tiqodomiqon said, with a flourish to the barbarian fey beside him.

“Uh.” Ardent stared at Diani. She looked like a mortal from Cairwelint, with their characteristic death-like pallor to her skin, barely tinted with pink and orange, and a narrow, raised ridge of a nose. She had wrinkled skin around her eyes and mouth, like a middle-aged mortal. Stubby mortal ears.

And she brimmed with aether, like a fey.

“My lady.” Diani rose from her curtsey. “We have come to express our gratitude to you, for securing our freedom.” She spoke the fey language well, but with a distinctive accent.

“Diani is a mortal name,” Ardent said, stupidly.

“Indeed, for I am…or at least was, until three days ago…a mortal woman,” Diani said.

“What.”

Diani smiled, adding more wrinkles to her face. “The King of the Sun Host, Jinokimijin, may the gods honor his name forever, freed the mortal slaves of the Sun Host. When he did so, he offered us several choices, at your behest. We could go to the mortal world here, what you call your ‘Old World’. Very few of us were from this world. We could remain in the Sun Etherium and wait until the fey shard travels back to our original worlds. We understand that in most cases, the fey do not know when this will be, or if it will happen in a mortal lifetime. We can try to make a life for ourselves here, in the fey shard, either in an Etherium or in the Broken Lands. And, if we wished to remain permanently in the fey shard, we could become…fey.”

“What,” Ardent repeated.

“If I may?” Tiqodomiqon glanced to Diani, and she nodded. “One of the powers of the Heart of the Etherium is to affiliate fey with the Etherium. It is rarely used, because fey can affiliate themselves. But King Jinokimijin discovered, or perhaps rediscovered, that the Heart may be used to affiliate…non-fey. Making them fey. All the barbarian fey you see here were mortals who chose affiliation with the Sun Etherium, and then chose to unaffiliate. Making them barbarian fey, beholden to no Etherium.”

“Free,” Diani added. “Like all fey beings. We who chose this path can no longer be harmed, caught, or held prisoner. Because of you, Lady Sojourner.”

“I swear before Duty and Justice that I never talked to Jino about freeing you,” Ardent said. “I had no idea there were even this many of you.”

“Ah, but you spoke to his son of it,” Tiqodomiqon said. “My brother, Prince Mirohirokon, gave you his word. King Jinokimijin wishes you to know that the Sun King will honor his pledge.”

Without thinking about it, Ardent took a step towards Tiqodomiqon and grabbed him by the front of his coat. She hauled the tall, broad-shouldered fey to the level of her face. He allowed it, looking a little bemused but unafraid. “Is Miro—” dead – she couldn’t say the word, couldn’t say did I kill him? Justice, just tell me, “—tell me he’s alive,” she finished, in a choked whisper.

He dropped his eyes. “He is alive,” he said, but she still held her breath, certain there was a but coming. “Yet gravely ill, with a sickness aether cannot treat.”

Ardent set the Sun fey down and took a step back. “I have to see him.”

“I have a mission to speak with the Moon Queen first, and deliver these people to their destinations, but I will be glad to escort you afterwards—”

“No,” Ardent said. “That’s fine. I know the way. Lady Diani—”

“Just Diani, my lady. I am no noblewoman.”

“Me either, Diani. Me either. Anyway, it’s great to meet you, and awfully nice of you to have come all this way just to say thanks, and wow, that’s a lot of walking boots you must’ve brought, good on Jino for that.” Ardent turned to the rest of the crowd too, and raised her voice. “So, you’re all very welcome for whatever small part I played in getting you free. And I don’t know if anyone’s apologized to you yet for you being captured in the first place, but let me apologize for that. It was a crappy, unjust, wrong thing to do, and against every fey Ideal, and you don’t owe me – or anybody else – gratitude for fixing that. We owed you that. We owe you a lot more than that, and I don’t know if you’re ever gonna get back enough to make up for the time and homes and families we took from you. And I’m sorry for that too. Uhh.” She waved vaguely to them, and some of them, especially the children, waved back. “Anyway. Good luck to you all, and I hope I get to see you again someday, but I gotta go now. Bye!”

They looked confused as she waved again and backed away. Then one of them started cheering her name. Soon they all were, despite that being a terrible congratulations-you’re-free speech. Ardent didn’t stop to question it. She had to go.

---

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After several days, Jino felt as if he’d been working as the Sun King forever, and yet that he’d barely made a start on all that needed to be done.

For many years, Jinokimijin had been accumulating information for this coup: not just on the phoenix rose and other potential weapons with which to overthrow Ele, but on the people of the Sun Host. Taking power was the least important part of his plan. Far more crucial was what he did with power once he had it. One of his tools had been frequent conversations with Mirohirokon to learn what his son’s soulsight taught him. Jino had taken careful notes on whom he could trust, what their weaknesses and strengths were, who was beyond hope of reform, and more. He’d spent years piecing details together because he had not wanted to give Miro the obligation of being judge and jury over the Etherium. Miro didn’t trust his Gift with decisions of such weight. Accordingly, Jino had intended to take that responsibility for himself, and never tell his son how much he relied upon his judgment. Not that Miro’s soulsight was Jino’s only source, but it was perhaps the one he trusted most.

A side benefit of having conducted most of his determinations in advance was that he didn’t need Mirohirokon’s aid now. That was as well, given that such aid was not available.

His new Justiciar, the former prince Tiqodomiqon, had been zealous in freeing captive mortals. Their plights varied, from abused creatures tormented by sadistic fey, to bloodsport gladiators, to the pampered, glamour-confused pets of one of his older sisters.

Jinokimijin had separated the abusers among the Sun Host into a few categories. Fey who’d been peripherally involved in abuse, of either mortals or fey, he took no particular action against beyond making it clear that his regime would be different. If Jino was to be fair, the category of “peripherally involved/tolerated” included most of the Etherium, including himself. It wasn’t practical to take preventative measures against them all. The next category involved those who’d been integral to the abuse – slavers and fey like Fallen, who’d manipulated fey into torturing themselves. Some of these, Jino judged reformable and their faults relatively minor, based on Miro’s insight and his own research. With that group, Jino used the phoenix rose to rob them of fey evasion and elusiveness, but did not imprison them. Instead, he put them under tracer watch, and made sure they knew that the only thing that would keep them safe from captivity was the good will of his reign. If they didn’t want to end up in chains, they’d need to behave. With worse offenders, and ones that Jino had little hope of improving, Jino also constricted their ability to hold and use aether. That rendered them much less of a threat to any mortals they might find.

All these effects were reversible, Jino informed his victims, if their behavior and character improved.

Then there were the ones Jino had no hope for: ex-Queen Eletanene; ex-crown Princess Sivakavivi; ex-Justiciar Wodorarava; ex-Chancellor Ovaratata; two exceptionally cruel slavers, Gonoqatoto and Polavatova; and Shadow of Fallen Scent.

He had mixed feelings about including Shadow of Fallen Scent among his victims. He’d released her from their pact after she’d been forcibly unaffiliated from the Moon Etherium – no point in taking the chance of her somehow gaining ownership of a phoenix rose again. But he was still holding her prisoner. On the one hand, he had no doubts that Fallen was a dangerous, vicious monster. The torture she’d made him personally endure was among the least of her crimes. On the other, she wasn’t a subject of the Sun Etherium. Since her crimes had been committed in the Moon Etherium, it’d make more sense to let them punish her. It would’ve been a good political gesture to offer the Moon Queen their criminal back. But returning her to the Moon Etherium for trial meant putting her among her allies. That they’d cast her out in her absence did not guarantee that the Moon Etherium had either the capability or the will to neutralize the threat she posed in person.

In the end, the deciding factor was that Jino had the power to make sure Fallen could do no more harm to any fey. He had no legitimate claim to authority beyond raw power anyway, so why let the lack of jurisdiction stop him now?

Jino had the seven brought, bound and gagged, before him during full Sun Court. His court proceedings were open, so they had hundreds of onlookers, including many whom Jino knew despised him. But they were all silent for this, stunned by the sight of fey who were now as helpless as mortals. Tiqodomiqon presented the seven by name, and lists of their wrongdoings. The Justiciar read every charge aloud: mortals they’d enslaved, or killed, or had killed, fey they’d bullied – many to suicide – possessions they’d seized or destroyed, fey lives ruined, and so forth. It took over an hour.

When he finished, Jino spoke. “To ensure that you can enact no more cruelties of these kinds, you have each been stripped of fey evasion, elusiveness, and invulnerability. I have also severed your connection with aether. You will be exiled to the mortal world, where you will remain for one hundred and twelve years, until the fey shard returns with the next cycle. This is not a death sentence. You remain unaging. You will not die of exposure, dehydration, or starvation. It is a kinder fate than many of your victims received, and better than you deserve.” And I don’t do it for you. “But you will not be invulnerable. I suggest you learn to respect mortals, if for no other reason than because they can kill you now.”

Jino paused for a moment to let that sink in, then continued, “If you wish, I will give you new trueshapes of your choosing. You may find life in the mortal world easier if you look like one of them, but I leave this up to you. You may express your preference now, and say any final words you have for the Etherium. We’ll begin with – oh, you, Polavatova.” He motioned to Tiqo, and Tiqo used a flick of aether to dissolve the gag on the former slaver.

“This is a joke,” she said. “I haven’t committed any crime, and you are no King. You’ll always be a disgrace, Jino.”

“I really don’t care, Pola. Do you want a new trueshape for your exile or not?”

She flared her nostrils. “Yes. Male, human, large and strong as possible, handsome, of the dominant ethnicity for wherever you’re dumping us.”

Jino shaped a homunculus for her, and set it to one side.

The next slaver didn’t bother complaining about the process. He had the same gender and ethnicity preference as Pola, but asked for average size and high overall fitness. Then Gonoqatoto licked his lips and said, “You said this wasn’t a death sentence.”

“Yes?”

“Most mortals of the Old World die of disease long before age claims them. May I have our fey invulnerability to disease restored?”    

Jino considered this, embarrassed that he’d not thought about disease at all. “Yes. All of you will.”

Gono bowed. “Thank you, gracious Sun King.” Pola glared at him.    

When she was ungagged, the crown princess spat in his direction – to no effect, given the twenty feet between them. She cursed him, the court, the Etherium, offered some consoling words to her mother, and rejected the offer of a new trueshape. The ex-chancellor was much the same, and the ex-Justiciar added in some threats to his posturing.    

When it was Fallen’s turn, she asked, “Which mortal country are you leaving us in?” Her spirit had broken when the Moon Etherium threw her from their High Court and unaffiliated her. Jino assumed she was plotting, or trying to, but she’d given up complaining.

Jino smiled and stroked the phoenix rose, which he had perched on the arm of his throne. “It’s a surprise, Fallen. I shan’t ruin it for you.”

She sighed, softly. “Then a human woman, beautiful by whatever the local standards are, and as fit as possible given that constraint.” Fallen swept her gaze over the court. “You are next, you know,” she told them. “What your King does to us…it’s only a matter of time before he does it to you. Or maybe it will be worse for you. He sacrificed a great deal to get the power he has now. You know he’ll never let it go, don’t you? You’ve bowed to a tyrant. You’ll never know freedom again. How long before you start beheading your enemies, Disgraced Jino?”    

“I’m not beheading you, Fallen. I’m pretty sure the rest of the Etherium is safe,” Jino said, dryly, and moved on to his ex-wife.

Ele stood erect, as haughty as the queen she’d once been. “Better to live free in the Old World than under the thumb of a slimy, treacherous slug like you, Jino,” she said, scornfully.

“Slugs don’t have thumbs. Do you want a new trueshape, Ele?”

“No. Let the mortals see me for what I am. Let them learn respect. I am Queen Eletanene of the Sun Host, and fey powers or no, they will learn I am a force to be reckoned with.” She surveyed the assembled, and sniffed. “You will all learn.”

Jino wondered for a moment what Ele’s real body looked like, and if she would still be proud if he stripped away the tall elegant golden form she’d assumed. This isn’t about punishment, or humiliation. This is about making sure they can’t hurt anyone again, he reminded himself. He gathered the homunculi he’d made for the others. “Great. Who wants to come with me to see this lot off? It’ll take a few hours.”

Amalatiti and Tiqo both wished to come; Jino let Ama do so but asked Tiqo to stay and keep an eye on things. One of Ele’s husbands, Ivotinono, wanted to come, even though Jino wasn’t visiting her punishment on any of them. Two of Jino’s other partisans asked to join them: Miro’s old friend, Talo, as well as Jino’s Surety, Tari; he let them. Jino asked three other individuals to attend: Kimikireki, Ele’s second husband; a deposed Chancellor, Deqavaneqan; and Manemafate, one of Ele’s pet bards. All three had been open in their condemnation of Jino’s coup, although they’d not been on his list of those who needed to be curbed. They were not pleased by Jino’s request, but they agreed to come. Probably because they assumed he’d make them if they declined. How much harder will this job become, once people realize I’m not going to force compliance with my requests? Guess I’ll find out when that happens.

Jino took the phoenix rose on his arm. He pulled out one of his extractor rings, and used it to restore just the part of fey invulnerability that protected them against disease. Then he gathered the seven prisoners and seven witnesses together, and used the bird to teleport them fourteen miles east-by-northeast. A second later, he jumped the group again, and again, with only the occasional pause to orient himself via scrying ball. While every fey was used to teleporting around the Etherium, teleports in quick succession like this were rarely necessary outside of a few specialized games. After a score of jumps, Ele complained, “Surely we’re outside of the Broken Lands by now? This doesn’t look at all familiar.”

Jino teleported them again. “I’m glad you’re lost already. We’ve only a few hundred more jumps to go, don’t worry.” He followed that statement with another port.

Talo paled. “A few – hundred – more teleports?” he asked, his words taking on a staccato rhythm as they were interrupted by ports. “I regret – volunteering – already.”

“I did tell you it’d take a few hours,” Jino said, before his next teleport.

“I thought you – meant walking.” Manemafate grimaced.

“And leave them just a few hundred miles away?” Jino triggered another port. “No. Where they’re going, they won’t be able to get back before the fey shard moves on.” An hour and a half later, Jino stopped in the midst of a vast plain of tall grasses and brush. A wide, winding river snaked past them, while a few strange twisted trees dotted the landscape. Jino transformed Polavatova into his new mortal form and unbound him, then left him behind as he teleported the rest of the group away. “You’re not even going to exile us together?” Ele said, stunned.

“No. You’ll have years to find each other, if you want to. Think of it as giving you purpose,” Jino said. “You and Sivaka will stand out, anyway.”

“Please, your majesty.” It was the first time Sivaka, Ele’s daughter, had acknowledged his title. “At least let me stay with Mother.”

Jino looked at her for a long moment, then shook his head. “No, Sivaka. Your worst problem is that you’ve spent too much time with Ele already.” He teleported them onwards.

He left them scattered across thousands of miles of land, in wildernesses some miles from the nearest mortal habitation. Fallen asked for a mirror after Jino transformed her, and he provided her with one. “I look like death,” she remarked. Birdsong and the chirping of insects echoed in the forest around them. “This is what these people prefer, is it?”

“The paler the better, as I understand it. I can change you to something else if you prefer. It’s of no matter to me,” Jino told her.

“It will do. I wonder what hideous tongue the locals speak? I suppose I shall find out, if wild animals don’t kill me first.” Fallen turned from them and started downstream alongside the wooded river they were near.

Ele was the last exiled. Jino stopped the group in a forested glen, and she turned to her husbands. “Ivo, Kireki – come with me. My prince-consorts. You still have all your powers. He has no legitimate authority over you. Don’t look at him. Look at me. You pledged yourselves to my side. You owe it to me.”

Despite her words, Ivo and Kireki both glanced at Jino, nervously. Jino didn’t speak. He didn’t want to leave Ele with a fey tool at her disposal, if only because the humans did not deserve a tyrant. But Ivo and Kireki were not monsters. He wouldn’t punish them for what they might do under the influence of their wife.

“Are you testing us, Jino?” Kireki asked directly. “Why did you bring us here? Do you seek an excuse to exile us as well?”

Jino shook his head. “No. Witnesses. That I did as I said I would. That they were exiled, not killed.”

Amalatiti had taken a seat on a fallen log, and smiled at them. “Of course I’d back his majesty up, but at this point, everyone expects me to back Jino. No one expects you to.”

Ele spat at her daughter. “You treacherous little beast. I should’ve strangled you in the womb.”

“I hate you too, Mom. Can we go now, Jino?”

“Wait,” Ivo said. He took Ele’s hands, and kissed her forehead. “I loved you once, Ele. But you drove our child away from us, by your own actions. And this…you brought this on yourself. I won’t go down with you.” He stepped away.

She curled her lip at him in disdain, then turned from him to Kireki. She took her fourth husband’s face in her golden hands. “And you, my love? You know I’ve always favored our daughters. Do you think they will forgive you for deserting me?”

By Sun Etherium standards, they were not alike: Kireki was a strong, broad-shouldered man with dark brown eyes and an oval face. Ele stood a few inches shorter, her frame lean and willowy, her face carved in smooth, delicate lines, eyes amber-bright. But they both had gold-dusted skin and long white-blonde hair, long fey ears, both tall by human standards. They were a matched set. Ele had always insisted her husbands match her. Kireki drew her hands from his cheeks and clasped them between his own. “They already have,” he said, softly. “Your favoritism did not make them your selfless minions; it merely spoiled them. Ele, there is no justice here. Jino is a usurper, a destroyer, a tyrant. I know. But that he is wrong does not mean that you are right.”

Jino listened with the same bland expression he’d worn for all the other insults he’d endured. He’d thought, after everything he’d been through, that words had lost their power to wound. He’d thought himself beyond the need to defend his actions or impress the populace with his righteousness. But Kireki’s quiet, flat condemnation stung anyway. In the earliest days of Jino’s marriage to Ele, Kireki had been his favorite fellow-husband, the one who’d been kindest to him, the one who’d been most fatherly and attentive to Miro. Of course, Kireki had scorned him as much as anyone after the divorce. I truly could not care less what Ele thinks of me. But I guess part of me still misses the friend I thought I had in you, Kireki. He tensed his jaw and let the scene unfold.

Ele had curled her fingers around her spouse’s. “I am your wife and your Queen, Kireki! I command you to stay!”

“I will not.” He freed his hands. “The pledge we once exchanged, I long ago repaid, and you long ago betrayed. I owe you nothing. Goodbye, Ele. And…may the Ideals show you the way.” Kireki turned back to Jino. “I am ready to depart.”

As Ele launched into an obscenity-laced tirade against them all, Jino teleported himself and his witnesses away.

---

Don’t want to wait until the next post to read more? Buy The Moon Etherium now! Or check out the author’s other books: A Rational Arrangement and Further Arrangements.

It took three days to remove Fallen from the High Court. In addition to her physical evidence, Ardent convinced two of the thugs who’d tried to abduct Miro and the one she’d caught trying to rob her to testify that Fallen had coerced them into their crimes. Others came forward with more details about Fallen’s corruption and misdeeds. Fallen had a variety of methods for indebting and obligating fey to her, from promising artists grants and visibility for their work, to threatening to destroy their creations, to catering to their darkest desires. Once she had someone in her debt, she would ask small favors to drag them deeper into ethical murk, tricking them into enabling much worse acts. Fallen would generously ensure that their complicity remained hidden – and they would end further in her debt for that. It was social manipulation built on fear and secrecy, instead of mutual support and trust. The method had been remarkably effective.

To Ardent, the most appalling part was that Fallen had re-enabled the slave trade in mortals. It was one of her dirty, well-kept secrets, partly because Skein of the Absolute had no tolerance for mortal slavery, and partly because it made a much better handle for control when the fey recipients had to fear discovery and the revelation of their crimes. But some fey, like Stalks Hunter, had supported Fallen’s quest to build a new Etherium because she’d promised them the abuse of mortals would be acceptable in it. “Why should we treat them like people?” Stalks had said, unrepentant. “They’re not people. They’re weak, fragile, powerless, nothing. When one gets broken, who notices? If I choose to be careless with my toys, whose business is it besides my own?”

Ardent found herself helping the Justiciar – whose debt to Fallen now manifested as a puppy-like eagerness to prove he did not support her misdeeds – look for surviving mortals to free. The queen also wanted evidence against Fallen’s worst cohorts. Some of Fallen’s allies refused to give up on their patron, or were determined to obstruct the investigation because they knew they could not make it through the coming purge unscathed.

Days were not enough. Months probably wouldn’t be.

But then the rumors started about what had happened in the Sun Etherium. There wasn’t much contact between the two Etheriums, as normal teleports and farspeaking could not breach the hundred-eighty mile gap between them. But some barbarian traders and wanderers travelled between the two, bearing news and stories that soon turned to wild tales. By the morning of the third day, the Moon Etherium seethed with them. The wildest said Jinokimijin had returned and slaughtered the entire Sun Court while the Sun Etherium’s wards were drained. Others contended that only the Sun Queen was dead, or that no one was dead, or that the Sun Queen had executed Mirohirokon and Jinokimijin had killed her in revenge. Everyone agreed that Jinokimijin was now the ruler of the Sun Etherium. There were further rumors that the Sun King had declared war; upon whom or what varied.

Shortly after the Moon Court convened on the third day, amid rumors of a bloodbath in the Sun Etherium, the High Court ended their deliberations. They ruled that, for the good of the Etherium, Shadow of Fallen Scent was removed from her post as Surety to the Queen. The ruling was unanimous.

It didn’t end with Fallen’s removal. It only began.

---

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The Moon Court was not in session, so Ardent and Whispers Rain waited in the entrance hall while they tried to get an audience with the Queen. If Ardent still had a channel to the Sun Etherium and had not spent every scrap of sun aether she’d possessed, or if she still had an active wardbreaker, she’d have been tempted to force her way into the Queen’s presence. It was almost tempting to try anyway. She could feel the wards of the Palace weakening, its expansion spells drawing inwards, as aether was channeled away from the Etherium faster than it could replenish.

“What’s going to happen?” Rain stood at Ardent’s side, wings tightly furled against her back. “Can they empty the Etherium?”

“No. Fallen will die first,” Ardent said, with a confidence she didn’t feel. But what if Jino doesn’t need to empty the Moon Etherium? He’s got the phoenix rose now. He can build his own Etherium-destroying extractor. And there’s nothing I can do about it.

How could I have been so stupid? Is anything Mirohirokon told me even true? I only have his word for it that he has soulsight. Maybe it is just a Gift for seeing obligations and aether signatures without spellwork. He said he saw Fallen’s soul as evil – but he would tell me that, wouldn’t he? It’s what I want to believe. Just like saying that Rain’s soul is lovely. All he did was confirm my own biases. I only have his word for it that the Sun Queen was a villain.

After a few minutes, the aether drain stopped and the Etherium began to replenish.

Within a quarter of an hour, the Moon Queen received Ardent – alone and in private, without Rain. By then, the aether levels in the Moon Etherium had recovered to almost-normal amounts. Fey who hadn’t been paying attention might have missed the event.

Skein had been paying attention. “Do you know what happened?” she demanded of Ardent.

“Jinokimijin has a phoenix rose. I think her deal with Shadow of Fallen Scent has inverted now, and Fallen has to serve her. Jino used the phoenix rose to teleport them back to the Sun Etherium. You need to remove Fallen from the High Court. Now.”

“What? How did Jinokimijin get a phoenix rose?” Skein demanded. After Ardent summarized the struggle with Fallen, the Queen glowered at her. “When exactly did you plan to tell me that Fallen had a phoenix rose?”

“I don’t know, your majesty.” Ardent met her gaze with a level stare. “When did you plan to tell me?” Skein drew herself up to protest, and Ardent cut her off. “Look. If you want me to pretend you didn’t already know and approve of Fallen’s plan to destroy the Sun Etherium and replace it with a new Etherium of her own devising, fine. I can also pretend you didn’t only change your mind when you realized that if Fallen could destroy one Etherium to empower her own, nothing would stop her from destroying your Etherium, too. But I’m gonna have to ask you in return to pretend I didn’t know about the phoenix rose and was just, I don’t know, tricked by Mirohirokon and Jinokimijin into thinking I was retrieving property Fallen had stolen from them.”    

Skein of the Absolute folded her arms and scowled, the stars on her skin flashing. “You are impossible, Ardent Sojourner. You pledged your word to me.”

“Yes. I pledged to serve the Moon Etherium and to stop Fallen. Well. Fallen’s a prisoner of the Sun Etherium now. You’re not going to have worry about her again, at least not if you can get the court in motion and throw her out of it. I know she’s bound to have some partisans who’ll support her even in her absence, but seriously? She had a phoenix rose and was building an Etherium-destroying extractor for it. Do you want proof? I have got all the proof. Wardbreakers, palace where she kept it, residue of its alien aether, feathers from it, orders that she placed for the materials, everything. All you need to do is tell the court she’s a traitor to the Moon Etherium and you knew nothing about it. Sure, some people will know it’s a political ploy. But there is plenty enough truth to make it stick, and nobody loved her. Do it.”    

The Queen of the Moon Etherium compressed her full lips in a surly line, and finally huffed out a breath. “Very well.” She dispatched a message to her adjunct. “I will convene an emergency session of the court. You will testify to Fallen’s actions, and that you were pursuing her under my orders. Including that you didn’t know what she had until you burst in upon it earlier today. Now, if there is nothing else you have just recollected I should be informed regarding?”

Ardent went to one knee before the queen. “No, your majesty.”

“Then that will be all. Diamond will inform you when your testimony is needed. Dismissed.”

---

Don’t want to wait until the next post to read more? Buy The Moon Etherium now! Or check out the author’s other books: A Rational Arrangement and Further Arrangements.

The new adjunct had arranged for a delivery of aethcacao pods. Jino freed the phoenix rose from its present extractor to hand-feed it bits of pulp and cocoa seeds. Cooing at the creature afterwards, he preened its feathers and ignored Fallen’s disgusted look. Once the bird had eaten its fill, he let it fly about loose in the lab for a few minutes. Then, with some regret, he caught it again and put it into a different extractor. This time he put a gold and diamond ring beneath the device to charge.    

Jino turned to the cloud of folded paper messengers already trailing behind him, awaiting his attention. Farspeaker messengers in the Sun Etherium were all creations of folded paper; only the shapes varied. He’d never thought it monotonous until he’d seen the diversity of the Moon Etherium. After reading several and answering a few, he checked on the ring. He put it on, and took the phoenix rose from that cage to move it into another in the long row of extractors.

“How?” Fallen spoke, for the first time in hours. “Was all my research wrong? Did you lie to me, all that stuff about seasoning and preparation? How could you lie, when you were sworn to me by blood and bond?”

Jino glanced at her and laughed. “I never lied to you.” He reviewed the delivery from the next messenger.

“Then how? How can you have so many prepared and ready for the bird? Did you have one before and lose it? How?”

The Sun King laughed again, and stood. He looked down at her with utter contempt. “How? Because I’m not an idiot, Fallen. Because I’ve been studying the lore of the phoenix rose for forty-two years. Because I didn’t decide ‘well, no point in making any preparations until I’ve got a bird in hand’. Because I didn’t start with the biggest and most convoluted device that my newest servant told me about because it happened to be the one that could harness the most power. Here’s a tip for you, Fallen. It’s not how much raw power you have. It’s how well you use it. And here’s another one: you use power like a fool.”

She hissed, stung. “I used it well enough to catch you, Disgraced Jinokimijin. Just because your son was lucky enough to rescue you—”    

Jino laughed again. “By the Family, Fallen. Do you still delude yourself that anything that’s happening here has something to do with chance? Do you still think I didn’t know exactly where this bird was when I struck that deal with you?” She gaped at him, and he shook his head. “Justice. You do. How did you ever manage to amass such influence in the Moon Etherium and still be such a sorry fool? You know, I had failsafes in place to make sure you couldn’t order me to fetch extractors from my own collection, but you were never even smart enough to ask if I had working prototypes. Why yes, Fallen. I do. They’re right here.” He swept a hand across the laboratory. “You heard that I’d been disgraced, that I was a fool, that I was inept, and you never stopped to question your assumptions. No. You were too busy obsessing over your grand scheme – which would never have worked, by the by, because you couldn’t move that monstrous contraption to the Sun Etherium to destroy it, and your little wands wouldn’t be able to make a dent in the Sun Etherium’s supply even at maximum efficiency. I thought for sure you must be planning to transform the Moon Etherium instead. But that wouldn’t have worked either, not without a Moon channel in the Sun Etherium. Nonetheless, you were so sure that your plan was brilliant. You were so convinced that you’d outmaneuvered everyone that you never remembered: the rest of us are all people, too. And we’re not all standing still, waiting while you pull your scheme together. You wasted your time thinking up petty ways to hurt people and admiring your own cleverness at torture. ‘Oh, look, I can’t stab a fey directly, but if I get enough influence over them then I can make them cut themselves, just to keep me happy’.” Each word dripped with his contempt. “And you thought that clever. That’s why you lost, you imbecile. Because everyone may have been scared of you, but they all hated you too. Next time, try making some friends.”        

“Hah! You dethroned your own queen and you talk to me of having too many enemies? How do you plan to make friends, Jinokimijin?”    

Jino leaned back in his seat and gave her a lazy smile. “Mostly? By dethroning my own queen. She wasn’t quite as loathed as you, mind. But it will suffice.” He checked on the latest extractor, and took the bird out of it, along with a charged steel rod. He teleported himself and Fallen to a new chamber: a plain-looking wooden box eight feet on a side. It had no real windows or doors, but for the sake of appearances he glamoured it to look like a bedroom. He even troubled himself to make the bed real. One of the wall panels opened to reveal steel bars behind it, with an empty set of rings going across. He slotted the steel bar through the rings and closed the panel, then leashed Fallen to the bed and expanded the room’s space. “Get on the bed,” he told her.

She complied, looking suddenly worried. “Please, master, don’t – I didn’t make you—”

“Didn’t make me what?” Jinokimijin snarled. “Brand your name on my arm with burning iron? Kiss my own son like a lover? Oh wait.” She cringed back, and he glowered at her in disgust. “Don’t worry. I am not the kind of monster who’s obsessed with petty cruelties.” No, Jino thought. I’m the kind of monster who risks his son’s life for political gain, and hated himself. “Stay on this bed and in this place until I tell you otherwise. Do not attempt anything clever; you’ll only embarrass yourself further. You can sleep if you like.” He raised a hand to port away.

“What are you doing? Why are you leaving me here?” Fallen asked.

“Baiting a trap. Sleep well.”

Of course, his enemies attacked his position that night. When he’d invited the former queen’s partisans to attack him earlier, he’d known they wouldn’t do so. He’d been far too formidable: alert, armed with a channel and the phoenix rose, and with the Sun Etherium’s power at an ebb to boot. But they had to try eventually.

They didn’t go after Jinokimijin directly. A total of six fey tried to capture Fallen. The cage she was in caught them instead, and allowed neither them nor their messages to escape. Another three went into a similar cage, baited with Eletanene, whom he’d intercepted on her way up. Two tried to break into Jinokimijin’s bedroom, where he was sleeping on a bed next to Miro’s. They’d hoped to wrest the phoenix rose from him. Jino let them through his wards so he could capture them and put them into one of the cages. He took the opportunity to check on Miro and verify that the golems were doing an effective job of keeping watch. They’d had to move him from bath to bed twice as they managed his fever and chills.

Jino kissed his son’s forehead and went back to bed, weeping.

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Don’t want to wait until the next post to read more? Buy The Moon Etherium now! Or check out the author’s other books: A Rational Arrangement and Further Arrangements.

Jino did not compel the courtiers to swear fealty; it had been almost six centuries since the tradition of fealty had been abandoned. But she did make each member pledge themselves to the good of the Sun Etherium, and she made each one acknowledge that she was its ruler. She’d taken a dozen pledges before she remembered that her form was still the same 15-year-old-girl version of her body that Fallen had stuck her in. And dressed in the same ridiculous outfit: a halter top held together by silver chains, with a loincloth linked over each hip by a silver chain. The cloth for both had been white, but was now splattered with her own blood. By now, the Sun Etherium had replenished enough aether that Jino could have restored herself, but it seemed a bit late now. No wonder they’re staring. Well, let them stare. The incongruity between appearance and actions probably puts them more off-balance. Might be just as well.

After a score of pledges, the Sun Etherium had replenished enough aether to permit its members to teleport. Jino sent a message to the former princess Ama telling her to check on Miro.

While Jino was watching the erstwhile Chancellor Pikopolili deliver its pledge a few minutes later, Ama sent a message back, “Dad! What happened to him? He’s not conscious and I can’t wake him up and he’s feverish and not responding to healing magic.”

“I told you, he channeled too much power. It’s caused by too much aether going through him, you can’t fix it with aether. Just stay with him and make sure he doesn’t get any worse.” Jino wrote out the reply on a farspeaker scroll at the same time that he waved Pikopolili to its feet, and beckoned the next courtier.

“How?!”

I wish I knew, Jino thought. “There’s some books on channeling in the lab. Look for the sections on treating sickness. Don’t use any treatments that I crossed out. If he wakes up, tell him I love him. And not to die.”

Once each member of the court had personally acknowledged Jino’s rule, Jino moved on to appointing his new High Court. Apart from the three High Lords of the Sun Etherium, Ele’s High Court had dissolved when Jino removed the Heart from her. Jino made Mirohirokon his crown prince, of course. He had no other children or a spouse to make natural members of the High Court, and Ele’s husbands and other children no longer qualified as such. Of the fifteen appointed High Court posts, Jino re-appointed six members of Ele’s High Court and replaced the rest. One of the replacements was Ele’s second-oldest child: the former Princess Amalatiti. Jino appointed another of her children to a minor Court role by making former Prince Tiqodomiqon his Justiciar.

During this process, Ele regained consciousness. Sputtering and fuming, she attempted to disrupt the proceedings. The ex-queen tried to grab Jino physically, which Jino declined to permit. Ele next yelled at Jino, ordered her to leave the throne, and demanded she return the Heart of Etherium. “No,” Jino told her. Ele launched into a tirade and appealed to her former court for support.

On the whole, the courtiers looked embarrassed on her behalf. No one answered her, or supported her; most of them tried to ignore her. The deposed queen’s fury redoubled at this. “You cannot ignore me! I am your queen!”

“No, you aren’t.” Jino had let her rant for a while, because it amused her to watch the court squirm, but she’d heard enough. Jino silenced Ele’s next reply with moon aether, and went on. “You are nothing to anyone, any more. You’re only still alive on my sufferance, and to be quite blunt I’ve suffered a lot lately, so let’s stop testing it.” She used the phoenix rose to teleport Ele fourteen miles below ground – far outside of the Etherium’s aether supply. “Justiciar Tiqodomiqon, trace Ele for me and let me know when she resurfaces,” Jino said. The ex-queen couldn’t teleport outside of an Etherium, but she could earthswim out. Eventually.

“Yes, your majesty.” The new justiciar left the court to comply.

After ten hours of conducting the court, Jino still had plenty of agenda left to go through, and no will to continue. “We will recess for tonight, and meet again on the morrow to discuss the new law of the Sun Etherium. Court dismissed.” Jino had a few private words with her newly-appointed adjunct. Then she ported home to her bedroom, bringing Fallen and the phoenix rose with her.

Ama had made a rocking chair beside the pool on one side of the room. She had a cloud of messengers around her, but was watching Miro drift in the pool instead of reviewing the messages. Ama had removed most of his clothing, leaving him in only underwear. “How is he?” Jino asked, going to them. She started to leave Fallen behind, then changed her mind and leashed her, making her trail in her wake.    

“I don’t know.” Ama gave a helpless shrug. “A little better, maybe. He drifts in and out of consciousness. Sometimes more lucid than others.”

Jino curled her legs to sit at the edge of the pool. “Hello there, my little dawn,” she said, softly.

Miro’s eyes twitched and opened to slits. “Hi Mom. Ama said you did it.” His voice still sounded terrible.

“Yup. Your big sister’s a chancellor now.”

“’grats, Ama.”

“Thanks. You’re doing great with the not-dying thing, kid. Keep it up,” Ama told him.

“Ardent’s orders,” Miro said. His eyes closed again. “Gave her my word.” His body convulsed, shuddering, and Jino reached out to take his shoulder, alarmed. “Gave myself to her. Mom, I betrayed her.”

“Hush,” Jino said. She slid into the pool next to him and hugged her son. He felt clammy, and she wondered if he was too cold now. “You haven’t. You haven’t.”

“Sh’ wanted the ’nix free, an’ I…” The next words were too soft to catch.

“I’ll make it right, Mirohiro, love.” Jino stroked her son’s hair, fresh tears running down her cheeks. “I’ll make everything right. You just get better.” Her son had passed out again.

“I tried everything the books said, Dad.” Ama wasn’t related to him, technically. In point of fact she was Ele’s second-born and thirty years older than Jinokimijin. But she had called Jino ‘Dad’ ever since Miro was ten years old, and she’d said to him ‘I wish I’d had a dad like yours.’ Miro had replied, with all the earnestness of childhood, that he would share. “I don’t know if it helped or not.”

“He’s doing better,” Jino said, because it had to be true. “I’m going to get him out of the bath; I don’t think he needs to cool any further.” She lifted him on a cushion of aether and dried him, then put him in her bed, in freshly-made pajamas and tucked between blankets.

“Yes, I had him out for a bit earlier, but then he overheated again. You’re king now, can you requisition some decent golems to keep a close eye on him? It’s not like anyone in the Etherium is good with mundane healing.”

“No, I suppose not.” Jino sent a message to her adjunct, then checked her notes to see who might be both trusted and spared from other duties. Ama was in many ways the best choice, but Jino needed her elsewhere, too.

“So why the new look, Dad? Not that ‘blood-drenched adolescent bed-slave girl’ isn’t…um…something. But it doesn’t quite match ‘Sun King’.”

“Well, Ele was the Sun Queen for too long. I don’t want there to be any confusion on that count.” Jino looked down at herself. “So you don’t like adolescent bed-slave? I think it must be growing on me.”    

“I think that form could stand another few years of growth,” Ama said, dryly.

“So, adult bed-slave?” Jino changed her body to widen the hips and fill out the chest, adding a little droop to the breasts and a few inches of height. She matured her face by several years, as well. “Better?”

“Much. Perhaps not the exact picture of a successful, confident Sun King, but better.”

“You don’t think so? I figured teleporting into the Sun Court and wresting power from my ex-wife while looking like a harem refugee showed true confidence. No clothing or regalia to mask any insecurities behind for me!”

“Uh.” Ama eyed her dubiously. “If you say so.”

“I do.” Jino changed back into his normal fey form, six foot three inches of well-muscled golden-brown man, with long straight blonde hair. After a moment, he changed the hair to indigo, to match Miro’s. He wore a typical Sun Etherium asymmetrical jacket over tights. “But I suppose it’s time to switch back.” He received a reply from his adjunct and read it. “We’ll have a pair of factotum golems here within the hour. Would you stay here with Miro for a few minutes? I need to feed my bird. And fuss over it.”

“I’ll be right here, Dad.” Ama moved her rocking chair over to the bed. Jino ported into the laboratory with Fallen and the phoenix rose.    

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Don’t want to wait until the next post to read more? Buy The Moon Etherium now! Or check out the author’s other books: A Rational Arrangement and Further Arrangements.