The man leered wolfishly. “No doubt.” He extended his fingers and made a brushing motion.
My spell evaporated, leaving me furious at how effortlessly he rendered my magic useless. “Who are you?” I hissed. “A gatekeeper?”
"Forgive me," the man gave me a mock bow. A lock of his jet-black hair fell across his forehead. Scowling, he brushed it back. “I am Raven. Since Aelbrin left us, it is up to me to escort you to the queen.”
I huffed. “Lead on then and stop boring me with your words.”
The perfect sneer on Raven's face went tight. A hostile light came to his dangerous eyes. “When the queen is done with you, perhaps you'll think better of my hospitality. You have come to be disappointed.”
I wished my magic could bring hail down on his head. My fingers twisted, but the spark of magic had vanished.
Raven gave me a cruel smile. “If the Dark Queen allowed everyone to perform magic, well, this would not be her domain. I have bound your magic until she says otherwise.”
Raven turned, pivoting to give his coat of feathers the best view in the light. Despite Raven’s warning, I tried my magic again. I imagined a pillar of rocks, piled one on top of the other, but when I moved my fingers, nothing happened. If Raven was the beginning of the nastiness waiting for me, what hope did I have to save the village?
I crept behind Raven. The iron balusters rose like teeth, wicked and sharp, ready to pry the magic out of my body. Surely that wasn't possible. I’d heard of Sisters of the Light who lost their magic by performing some dark deed or making an intentional choice to join the Shadow Sisters. A ritual could bind their magic, just as the Sisters of the Light bound the darkness of the forest. I hoped the Dark Queen would be merciful, but as we entered the castle, I doubted it.
A sour stench hung in the air. The slow trickle of water penetrated the silence. Ivy, black as night, hung down from unlit chandeliers, and a thick dust covered the floor. Raven led me up a curving staircase where light dared to enter the gloom of the castle. Gray mist twisted into various shapes, showing first monsters with curved teeth and wicked snouts, and then sensuous creatures that romped around them, unafraid of the monsters and the great evil of which they were capable.
Dread filled my heart, and when at last we came to a door with spikes around it, I wished I’d taken up Aelbrin on his word and fled when I had the chance.
Only there was no turning back now.
The black iron doors swung open with a resounding boom, revealing a mist-filled throne room. Raven strode across the threshold, shoulders thrown back and head held high, the gray fog curling around him in greeting. His coat of ebony feathers danced with every swaying step. When he reached the center of the room, he dropped to one knee and bowed his head, touching his fist to his forehead. He remained in position, waiting.
I froze just inside the doorway, staring into the eerie lair of the Dark Queen.
Chapter 7
Bowls of incense smoked on either side of the room, the coals turned by women with collars around their necks and irons on their hands and feet. Long hair hung wild around them, and their bodies were smeared with ash and soot. The red irises of their eyes stared vacantly across the room.
Tearing my eyes away, I looked up at the throne. Although roughly twenty paces away, it towered above me, casting a shadow of evil over the doors. It spanned the curved wall of the room and looked like an ash tree with roots—thick and twisted—growing through the stone.
A tree. Mother Tree?
Someone had taken flame to it. Leafless branches reached out of the scorched remains in every direction, as though seeking the light. White mold stood out on its decaying branches, and yet I sensed life. The tree struggled under the oppression of the wicked castle, begging to be set free and grow in health away from the dark and rot. The pain of the tree seeped into me, so real and full of sorrow that my eyes smarted from the strong sense of misery.
At last I understood the burden Aelbrin carried. If this tree knew torture just from existing in the Dark Queen’s presence, what fate lay in store for his people who were cut down to stumps or burned to dust? I could imagine the spirit of the forest carried within the hearts of every one of his people, twisting in agony even as it continued to fight for life.
Perched in the center of the tree, in a seat forced out of twisted tree branches, sat the Dark Queen. She lifted a hand, and curved nails hung off her fingers like the fangs of a snake. “Rise.”
Raven returned to his feet and marched back toward me. His eyes narrowed, and a wolfish grin came to his dry lips.
“Our guest has arrived.” The queen pointed a razor-sharp finger at me.
Fear threatened to overrule my spirit. I struggled against it, biting my tongue fiercely. Clasping my hands behind my back, I dug my fingernails into my wrist. I would not fail.
I studied the milk-white face of the queen. Dark circles covered her eyes, the tell-tale sign of rot, and her raven black hair hung in waves down her back. She wore a corset that pushed her breasts high, the heavy swells moving up and down with every breath. Her lengthy gown was a combination of black-night and blood-red, and offered a glimpse of bare thigh. When she licked her scarlet lips, her tongue came out, forked like a viper.
Ah. Everything made sense. The rune I’d accidentally drawn at the gathering, the mark on Aelbrin’s skin, and the snake that bit me in the forest were all reminders of the Dark Queen’s power and constant presence. Had she been watching all the while?
A warning hummed through me. Was my meeting with the Dark Queen a coincidence? Or a trap?
“My queen,” Raven placed his hand on the small of my back, and I tensed, fingers trembling, desperately longing for my magic. “Aelbrin brought this sweet for you and fled.” He licked his lips. “He will have some explaining to do when he returns.”
The queen pursed her lips and waved her hand at Raven. “He did not go far. Find him and bring him to me.”
Raven left with a victorious smile on his grim face.
The tap-tap of the queen's fingernails on hollow wood drew my attention. I knew I should hold her gaze, show her I was bold, determined, and unafraid. But the white pallor of her face was so hideous I focused on the tree roots, until they began shrieking in agony, that is. It was as though they knew I alone could hear their mourning plea for help. It was an awful sound, the cries of a dying spirit.
“Tell me why you are here.” The queen said. “I sensed your magic when you approached my kingdom, just as I sensed a disturbance outside of the forest, the night before last. You are brave to come here.”
She gave a cruel laugh which rankled my nerves. How I wished I had my magic.
I squared my shoulders and addressed a spot just above her shoulder. “My name is Yula. I come from the Sisters of the Light with a request. As we do every year, my people offer you gifts, and the Sisters of the Light perform a ritual to bind the evil of this forest. This year, the Sisters of the Light are not here for the blessed ritual, and since it is too late to train another sisterhood, I came to make a bargain. In exchange for mercy, and to keep the orc-kind and other creatures of the forest from destroying my people, I would like to make a deal with you.”
The queen cocked her head. “You came to me. To make a deal? Oh, the irony of it.” She cackled. “The Sisters of the Light taught you nothing. Haven't you been warned? I do not respect the wishes of mortals. I do not make bargains.”
The tree hurt my heart, and its cry made me feel dizzy.
The queen stood tall and started down the stairs which were nothing more than contorted tree branches. As she neared, horns appeared on her head, gnarled and curved.
I swallowed hard; my tongue thick. “Have you not made bargains with others in the past? People who now serve you?” I dared ask.
Those voluptuous red lips curved upward, and I could not help but glance at the dark sockets of her evil eyes.
She sashayed toward me. My feet involuntarily backed away toward the doors.
“As you said,” she replied. “In the past. I no longer make bargains, for they tend to be more work than they are worth. If you have something that is worthy of my time, come out with it now. I know you decimated the temple and the Sisters of the Light, and there will be reparations. You took power, magic, from me and think you can stroll into my kingdom and ask for a blessing. There shall be no deal with you. You have a penance to pay.”
I licked my dry lips and took another step back. My fingers shook as they met the cold iron of the doors. I almost tripped over my own two feet as the queen strode toward me. She towered above me, much larger than she'd appeared on the throne. The strength in her arms looked devastating.
She knew what I’d done. She saw my guilt as though it were a rune, inked on my forehead. Quickly, I racked my brain for words, desperate to say something that would please her. “I have magic, and I know the rituals. I can convince others to make you happy. I can rebuild and train new sisters how to satisfy your demands for magic.”
The queen smiled, and something dark glittered like a struggling light in her eyes. “Magic,” she said, her voice soft as she trailed a sharp fingernail down my cheek. “You think I have no others to serve me in this way?”
A warm trickle of freshly drawn blood streaked down my face. The Dark Queen leaned forward, as if to kiss me, but instead that forked tongue lashed out, tasting the rivulet now staining my cheek.
She gripped my chin hard and stared into my eyes, a drop of my blood pearled on her lip. “The magic of your sisters fed me, and I offered my protection in return. But now, days before Mabon, you destroyed them, you failed me. Don’t you realize that I exist off such magic?” She leaned close again, her breath fetid. “I can feed off other things as well, though. The soul of a tree. The spirits of the elements.” Her gaze darted to my cheek. “Even the blood of a mage.”
I reared back in an attempt to move further away from her, but the doors were behind me, and the dark queen slithered closer. Her hands rested on my shoulders. Nails bit through the clean shirt I wore and there was nowhere for me to look but up into her fearsome face.
Vomit boiled in my belly. This had all been for naught. She would not let me save my village. I had sealed their doom by losing control of my magic. I saw it clearly now. I’d weakened her, and she was furious. Revenge burned in her dark eyes.
Sharp nails ripped through my shirt, and the hardness of the iron gate burned cold on my bare back. My hands came up, clutching the shirt over my chest, and my eyes went wide. I blinked hard to keep the tears at bay. How could this be happening again? Every time I tried to rise strong, I was taken and humiliated.
My thoughts drifted back to what had started this—the strike of the Head Mistress’ rod on my back—and rage welled out of me. Memories went back further to the persecution I suffered when I was young, because I was odd. My skin was dark and my eyes wild, a strong indication I was not like the others. I recalled the screams and cries of the children when my anger came out, broken limbs and blood, so much blood. They had all lived although it took some time for them to mend, but my parents were shunned and forced away, because of my magic. Determined not to fall prey to the orcs, they moved to another village. I discovered it was because of the Sisters of the Light. Against my will, they forced me to bend to those who held magic, who were stronger than me, and could teach me to use it for good, instead of hurting others.
But the rage came up again and again, manifesting in a windstorm. I heard what they whispered about me when they thought I was out of hearing. I knew what they thought. I was a cursed one with magic stronger than even the Head Mistress. They believed one day a great evil would befall them, because my dark soul called out to it, like seeking like, darkness calling darkness.
And they were right. So why should I try to save the village? Every time I tried to change my ways, to save something, anything, it failed. Why should this time be any different?
My knees gave way as The Dark Queen’s nails dug into me like knives and ripped the tender skin of my back. My body shook with spasms, and only when I cowered on the ground, in a pool of tattered rags, did she step away.
I shuddered and swallowed a sob, keeping my head bent while my hair curtained around me. Trails of blood flowered down my back, and when a finger touched one of my open wounds, I gave a sharp hiss.
The Dark Queen knelt in front of me and fisted a clump of my hair in her hand, forcing me to raise my head. Her forked tongue came out and licked the blood off her fingertip. Eyes flashing, she laughed. A deep, rough, evil sound that made my skin go cold. This was the end, wasn't it? She would kill me, for I did not have the strength or magic to fight her.
“I sense defiance in your nature,” the queen said, malice dripping from her lips.
She jerked the roots of my hair harder, forcing a wince out of me. My shoulders came down and rage rose in my throat.
“Defiance will not save you, but your magic is dangerous, strong, something I can mold for myself. I shall truly enjoy draining it from you.” She smirked. “It is fortuitous you came to me. I must thank you for giving me the opportunity to teach him a lesson.”
Him? A heaviness came over me. Who was she punishing?
“He led you here, didn’t he? Despite his conflicted heart. You wear his clothes which carry his scent which means you dared to tryst with one of my knights. It will not be forgiven. Ending your life will serve as a reminder for him of what it means to serve me.”
My soul wilted in defeat. Despite everything, the consequences of my magic still followed me. I pressed my hand to my mouth to keep the sob from escaping my throat.
A grim look crossed the Dark Queen’s face, and her eyes stared into the distance. “Or perhaps I shall kill him for his disloyalty.”
“Please,” I choked out.
I did not want to care what became of Aelbrin. I needed to save myself, save my village, but the vision I'd seen when I touched him came back to me. I saw the firedrake consume his people, the cry of Mother Tree in the throne room, the screams of the wounded, the pleas of the downcast, the broken, the downtrodden, those whom the world would always turn a blind eye to.
“Please,” I whimpered; hands clasped at my chest. “I will do what you ask. I will give you my magic, my soul, anything. Only spare him. This is not his fault.”
A cackle came from the Dark Queen’s red lips. She stood tall, dragging me by the roots of my hair. Heat seared my scalp, and a scream tore out of my throat. I clawed at her hands and arms to fight her off, earning long scratches from her nails. She flipped me onto my back. The stone cut into my wounds, but when the sharp point of her foot slammed between my ribs, I curled up into a ball. A moan came from between my lips as she kicked me again. I felt a rib crack, and breathing turned difficult.
Chapter 8
“Your Majesty,” a male voice intoned, almost with a question.
The queen ceased kicking me, but I dared not look up.
Aelbrin. I knew it in a heartbeat. Did he know why he'd been called there? Did he know what the queen had in store for him? I wanted to warn him but couldn't, afraid if I looked at him everything I felt in my heart would be revealed on my face.
“Sir Aelbrin. My knight,” the queen quipped. Her brutal grip suddenly let go, and she stalked toward him.
I whimpered. How futile it would be to hurl myself at the queen's feet and beg—again—for her to change her mind?
“My queen—” Aelbrin began.
A snap of her fingers effectively cut him off.
“Aelbrin. I am displeased,” the queen said, shades of darkness in her tone. “I heard from Raven that you brought me a gift, a gift you tarnished by stamping your scent on her.”
“My queen,” his deep voice held no emotion. “She was naked when I found her. I gave her clothing.” His eyes chanced a glance at me, quick as the flutter of a hummingbird’s wings. “That is all.”
“Naked. Clothed.” The queen gave a mirthless laugh. “That's how you hope to
escape your fate? Why didn’t you deliver her yourself?”
“You and I both know you'd rather be left to deal with new subjects as you see fit,” Aelbrin reminded her.
“Oh,” the queen spat. “Then you will not care if I take her magic and do away with her useless life.”
Aelbrin’s breath whistled between his teeth.
“Aha,” the queen snickered. “You do care. I thought as much. It has been long since you let your emotions overrule your decisions, Knight. This woman came here to save her village, a village she brought doom on by destroying the Sisters of the Light. But I see her as a lesson for you and a source of magic for myself. Now, I give you a choice. I can kill you, end our bargain, and let this woman walk free. Perhaps I will even grant her a boon since she seems desperate to save her village. Or. . .” The queen waited, giving a chance for her words to sink in. “I can kill her and let the people of her village die. It's up to you. Knight. You choose who lives and who dies. Mabon draws nigh, and my monsters need a chance to enjoy the spoils of being good all year long. Tell me. What do you choose?”
I dared to lift my head and saw the queen stood with her back to me. Aelbrin faced her, head down, eyes lost in thought as he considered the impossible request. I wanted to end this, to save him from this choice, but how? There was no fleeing. The Dark Queen would hunt us to the end of the earth. And there was no magic savior.
My gaze scanned the throne room and landed on the ash tree. Gnarled roots, scorched with fire, stood out. If I could reach one of those hollow branches, perhaps I could do something, anything, before dying.
I began to crawl, even though my back cried out against my movements. My elbows dug into the stone floor, and I eyed the chained slaves, but they continued their languorous movements, eyes on their work, chains clinking as they turned the coals over the fire. As I crawled, I heard Aelbrin speak up.
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