was replaced and died.”
“For all intents and purposes, my Lord. The one who displeased you wove a web of deceit and despicable lies, convincing Society that Lady Eleanor had gone mad so that she could be usurped. In order to preserve the perfection of the family, Sir Iris was forced to send Lady Eleanor to an asylum in Mundanus to live out her days—”
Lord Iris stood as leaves and iris flowers in the clearing were pressed back by a sudden blast of cold radiating from him. “He said nothing of madness! Why did he not bring her to me?” He stared at the edge again, whispering something as Will frantically tried to think of a response.
Will had no idea why Sir Iris had decided to hide Eleanor away rather than bring her to his patron. Now he was thinking it through, it did seem rather poor form to not bring his wife here first. Then he feared it was because Sir Iris hadn’t wanted to save Eleanor and simply wanted a new wife. “Because—”
“Because the usurper executed a brilliant plan, my Lord,” Eleanor said from the edge of the clearing. Will turned to see her give a deep curtsy and then straighten again with some effort. “My husband knew that even if you could help me, the damage I had done in Society by offending the idiots of the Court with no more than the truth would make it untenable for me to remain in my position. Better to lead you to believe that he had lost interest in me, so you would simply let me go and he could take another wife quickly, to preserve order within the family.”
She took a tentative step forwards and, seeing that Lord Iris was expecting her to continue, spoke again. “It was a very delicate time for the Frankish Empire. With war ravaging Mundanus, the mundane underpinnings of our power were under threat. He acted swiftly and decisively to limit the damage I had done, but he was also proud and he loved me. The reasons behind the action he took may not have been perfect, my Lord, but to everyone else outside of the family, perfection was swiftly restored once I was gone. He had a wife who was beautiful and devoted, willing to destroy anyone who threatened him or the family’s honour. Not the one he loved, but the family came first.”
Lord Iris stepped down from his living throne of wood and flowers and walked past Will towards Eleanor. Will stood, unable to read what the Fae intended. Iris stopped halfway across the clearing and beckoned her further in. “And why did you not come to me for help?”
“Because you do not exist to resolve my difficulties, Lord Iris. I exist to serve and please you, and if I am found wanting, I accept the consequences. My enemy exploited the complacency of our marriage and my sense of security. I never dreamt that a daughter of an inconsequential family would even contemplate destroying my life. That was a dreadful mistake, and I was willing to pay for that deviation from perfection.”
“And as Mundanus stole the youth from your body, did you not regret this? Did you not nurse hatred towards your husband for abandoning you?”
“No, my Lord. I nursed a hatred towards the one who took my place, but not him. My husband was thinking of the family and of how we represented you. The perfection of our family required that I be absent, and I accepted that. I still love him, dearly.”
“Your devotion pleases me,” Lord Iris said, closing the distance between them. “You will return to your husband and resume your position as Dame with my blessing.” He wrapped his arms around her, his long white hair draping down like silk, obscuring her from Will’s sight. Then the Fae released her and to Will’s surprise, she still looked the same.
Lord Iris took a step back and cupped Eleanor’s face with his hand in a remarkably tender way. It was jarring, seeing him be anything but cold and detached. Eleanor gazed up at him, her eyes shining, beatific in her devotion, as Lord Iris ran his thumb across her cheek.
Something flaked away from her face in its wake, making Will tense, but then he saw youthful skin revealed, as if it had been there all along. With gentle strokes, Lord Iris brushed away the age from the rest of her face, as if excavating her youthful self from the wrinkled