Her voice was cold.

“How will the book help you with that?” Emma asked.

“The Black Volume is more than necromancy,” said the Queen. “It contains spells that will allow me to retrieve the captive from the Unseelie Court.”

Cristina shook her head. “My lady,” she said. She sounded very sweet and firm and not at all anxious. “While we are sympathetic to your loss, that is a great deal of danger and work for us, just to assist you. I think you would have to offer something quite special to gain our help.”

The Queen looked amused. “You are very decided, for one so young.” Rings sparkled on her fingers as she gestured. “But our interests are aligned, you see. You do not want the Black Volume in the King’s hands, and neither do I. It will be safer here in my Court than it will ever be out in the world—the King will be looking for it, too, and only in the heart of Seelie can it be protected from him.”

“But how do we know you won’t also use it to work against Shadowhunters?” said Emma, uneasily. “It wasn’t such a long time ago that Seelie soldiers attacked Alicante.”

“Times change and so do alliances,” said the Queen. “The King is now a greater threat to me and mine than the Nephilim. And I will prove my loyalty.” She leaned her head back, and her crown shimmered. “I offer the end of the Cold Peace,” she said, “and the return of your sister, Alessa, to you.”

“That is beyond your power,” said Mark. But he had not been able to control his reaction to his sister’s name; his eyes were overly bright. So were Julian’s. Alessa. Helen.

“It is not,” said the Queen. “Bring me the book, and I will offer my Lands and arms to the Council that we might defeat the King together.”

“And if they say no?”

“They will not.” The Queen sounded supremely confident. “They will understand that only by allying themselves with us will they be able to defeat the King, and that to make such an alliance means they must first end the Cold Peace. It is my understanding your sister was punished with the Nephilim punishment of exile because she is part faerie. It is in the Inquisitor’s power to overturn such a sentence of exile. With the end of the Cold Peace, your sister will be free.”

The Queen couldn’t lie, Emma knew. Still, she felt that somehow they were being tricked. Looking around, she could tell from the uneasy expression of the others that she wasn’t the only one with that thought. And yet . . .

“You wish to seize the Unseelie Lands?” said Julian. “And you wish the Clave to help you do it?”

She waved a lazy hand. “What use have I for the Unseelie Lands? I am not driven by conquest. Another shall be placed on the throne to replace the Shadow Lord, one more friendly to the concerns of Nephilim. That should interest your kind.”

“Have you someone in mind?” said Julian.

And now the Queen smiled, really smiled, and one could forget how thin and wasted she looked. Her beauty was glorious when she smiled. “I do.” She turned toward the shadows behind her. “Bring him in,” she said.

One of the shadows moved and detached itself. It was Fergus, Emma saw, as he slipped through an arched doorway and returned a moment later. Emma didn’t think anyone was surprised to see who he had with him, blinking and startled and sullen-looking as ever.

“Kieran?” said Mark, in amazement. “Kieran, King of the Unseelie Court?”

Kieran managed to look frightened and insulted all at once. He had been put into new clothes, linen shirt and breeches and a fawn-colored jacket, though he was still very pale and the bandages wrapping his torso were visible through his shirt. “No,” he said. “Absolutely not.”

The Queen began to laugh. “Not Kieran,” she said. “His brother. Adaon.”

“Adaon will not want that,” Kieran said. Fergus was holding the prince firmly by the arm; Kieran seemed to be pretending it wasn’t happening, as a way to retain his dignity. “He is loyal to the King.”

“Then he doesn’t sound very friendly to Nephilim,” said Emma.

“He hates the Cold Peace,” said the Queen. “All know it; all know as well that he is loyal to the Unseelie King and accepts his decisions. But only as long as the King lives. If the Unseelie Court is defeated by an alliance of Shadowhunters and Seelie folk, it will be easy to place our choice on the throne there.”

“You make it sound so simple,” Julian said. “If you do not plan on putting Kieran on the throne, why drag him in here?”

“I have another use for him,” said the Queen. “I require an envoy. One whose identity they know.” She turned to Kieran. “You will be my messenger to the Clave. You will swear loyalty to one of these Shadowhunters, here. Because of that, and because you are the Shadow King’s son, when you speak to the Council, they will know you are speaking from me, and that they will not be tricked again as they were with the liar Meliorn.”

“Kieran must agree to this plan,” said Mark. “It must be his choice.”

“Well, it is his choice, certainly,” said the Queen. “He can agree, or he can most likely be murdered by his father. The King does not like it when condemned captives escape him.”

Kieran muttered something under his breath and said, “I will swear loyalty to Mark. I will do as he bids me do, and follow the Nephilim for his sake. And I shall argue with Adaon for your cause, though it is his choice in the end.”

Something flickered in Julian’s eyes. “No,” he said. “You will not do this for Mark.”

Mark looked at his brother, startled; Kieran’s expression tensed. “Why not Mark?”

“Love complicates things,” said Julian. “An oath should be free of entanglements.”

Kieran looked as if he might explode. His hair had gone completely black. With an angry look at Julian, he strode toward the Shadowhunters—and knelt in front of Cristina.

Everyone looked surprised, none more than Cristina. Kieran tossed his dark hair back and looked up at her, a challenge in his eyes. “I swear fealty to you, Lady of Roses.”

“Kieran Kingmaker,” said Mark, looking at Kieran and Cristina with an absolutely unreadable look in his eyes. Emma couldn’t blame him. He must be constantly waiting for Kieran to remember what he had forgotten. She knew he would be dreading the pain the memories would bring them both.

“I am not doing this because of Adaon or the Cold Peace,” said Kieran. “I am doing it because I want my father dead.”

“Reassuring,” muttered Julian, as Kieran rose to his feet.

“It is settled, then,” said the Queen, looking satisfied. “But so that you understand: You may promise my assistance and my goodwill to the Council. But I will not make war on the Shadow Throne until I hold the Black Volume.”

“What if he makes war on you?” Julian said.

“He will make war on you first,” said the Queen. “That much I know.”

“What if we don’t find it?” said Emma. “The book, I mean.”

The Queen sliced her hand lazily through the air. “Then the Clave will still have my goodwill,” she said. “But I will not add my folk to their army until I have the Black Volume.”