Reign of the Stone Queen

by Jayne Faith

  How was I going to manage it all?

  Chapter 9

  EARLY THE NEXT morning, Emmaline arrived at my door. She was dressed in the battle gear of the junior ranks, the students who weren’t full-fledged soldiers but had been through many years of training and prep for a life in the Order’s military if that was what they chose to pursue.

  I looked her up and down. “Hoping for a fight?”

  She gave me a fleeting but withering teenage glare before snapping her expression into something more suitable in the presence of her monarch.

  “I’m hoping to avoid a fight, Your Majesty,” she said crisply. “As your armed escort, I felt like I needed to be wearing something, well, official.”

  I didn’t want to make her feel bad, but if I got into trouble in the corridors of the fortress, she wasn’t going to be able to save me. Not against the likes of the men who’d come to threaten me with Raleigh leading them. I was just about to suggest we tone down the armed-guard idea when there was a rustle of many footfalls to the right. I leaned out of my doorway to see who was coming, ready to pull magic and form armor.

  My brows shot up. It was a troop of young men and women around Emmaline’s age, also wearing full junior battle gear.

  “Ah, here’s the rest of your security detail,” Emmaline said, raising her hand in a half-salute, half-wave at the approaching group. “We’ll be accompanying you to your meeting with Lord Lothlorien.”

  I blinked at her, my mind spinning. How was it going to look if I marched through the fortress surrounded by a bunch of armed kids from the Order’s academy?

  I quickly decided I didn’t really care. They were supporters, and I had to start somewhere. Besides, I couldn’t imagine anyone would actually attack them. These teenagers were the future of the Carraig Sidhe, and like all races in Faerie, we treasured our children.

  The group, about thirty of them, strode in neat lines. They came to a crisp halt when Emmaline raised her fist.

  She turned to me. “Please go ahead, Your Majesty. We will back you up.”

  I swept a gaze over the junior fighters. They all wore fierce expressions, their brows pulled low. I gave them a little dip of my chin, an acknowledgement of what they were doing and the statement they were making. I turned away before a slight smile could twitch at my lips. Leave it to New Garg kids to prove themselves to be badasses. I almost wished I were their age again. I’d have joined up with them in a heartbeat—especially if it’d pissed off Oliver.

  As we began to pull away from my quarters, heads were poking out of apartment doorways. We’d drawn some attention, it seemed. Most who spotted me curtsied or bowed. But some quickly pulled back inside and shut their doors.

  Emmaline walked beside me, and the rest followed us in two parallel lines. Her eyes roved left and right, vigilant, and her hand rested lightly on her belt, right behind the sheath that held a long dagger. She wore her broadsword on her back, as did all the junior fighters behind us.

  “Hey,” I mumbled to her without moving my lips. It’d just occurred to me that I’d neglected one little detail. “I don’t know where Maxen wanted to meet.”

  “One of his pages told me where to go,” she whispered. “The Opal Room on the first floor.”

  “Thank the gods. Otherwise, I’d just have to march you all over the fortress, trying to look as if I knew what I was doing, until I figured out where the hell he was.”

  She let out a soft snort-laugh, but quickly recovered her focus.

  We trooped through the fortress. People stared. We let them, and we reached the appointed meeting room without a challenge. The double doors to the Opal Room stood open, and Maxen was already there, scanning the tablet he held in one hand and eating an apple with the other. Two pages stood off to the side, awaiting orders. For a split second, I could almost imagine it was any old day in the stone fortress. Marisol was somewhere else, and Maxen was just reviewing his itinerary for the day.

  But of course it wasn’t just any old day, and Marisol would never grace the fortress hallways again. A shiver spiraled up my spine.

  He looked up when I walked into the room, set down his tablet on the table he stood next to, and bowed. His pages also bent at the waist, waiting until Maxen straightened before they did.

  I glanced back to see Emmaline had stopped just outside the room. Her troops appeared to be arranging themselves on either side of the doors. She gave me a tiny nod and then turned on her heel in a sharp, well-practiced movement, positioning herself just beyond the doorway, facing the corridor and standing at attention with her spine straight and her chin lifted. I heard the unmistakable sound of many blades sliding from sheaths, which meant the troops were planning to stand out there with their swords drawn. My security detail wasn’t messing around.

  Maxen had been peering past me, taking it all in. We locked eyes, and his brow wrinkled with surprise.

  “I know,” I said, my voice low as my words were only meant for his ears. “She showed up at my apartment with them this morning.”

  “Impressive,” was all he said. He beckoned at me to join him at the conference table.

  His two pages went to the doorway and exited, pulling the heavy double doors closed behind them.

  He pushed his tablet in front of me so I could see what was on the screen. “These are the positions you personally need to fill with your appointees.”

  He was obviously ready to get down to business, and I was fine with that. Our emotional exchange the previous night had been difficult, and we needed a truce.

  I scrolled down the list on the screen. The titles included things like Head of Security, Royal Chef, Battle Master and Military Commander, First Attendant to the Queen, Prison Warden, a handful of Ambassadors to various kingdoms, and several other positions.

  I lifted my eyes to his and shook my head. “I’m not even sure where to start.”

  Just as I’d started to speak, the doors had opened. Maxen and I both swiveled our gazes that way.

  My lips parted as I sucked in a tiny gasp. I rose as two people strode in.

  “You can start by greeting your father.”

  It was Oliver. Behind him followed Nicole. Maxen jumped to his feet so abruptly his chair toppled backward. He rushed past me to Nicole and embraced her, lifting her off her feet and spinning her around. But I couldn’t tear my attention away from Oliver.

  He’d been roughed up—there was fresh-looking pale flesh around his wrists and some slashes of newly-healed skin across his face. But both eyes were intact. Eldon had told the truth. Oliver hadn’t been seriously harmed.

  I hated that I hadn’t been the one to break him out of the Duergar palace, but that wasn’t a thing for a queen to do.

  He stopped about five feet away from me. For a moment, we booth stood stock-still, our unblinking gazes locked. Then he pulled in his lips and bit down. I drew a shuddering inhale as I realized his eyes were misting.

  “Father,” I whispered. I took a step toward him, ready to throw my arms around his neck.

  He held up a hand to stop me and then bent at the waist in an exceptionally graceful bow for such a large man. “Your Majesty.”

  As soon as he straightened, I flew at him. His huge arms wrapped around my midsection, squeezing until my ribs cracked and I couldn’t pull in a breath. I didn’t care. He could crush me if he wanted to. I’d heal.

  “It is really you, isn’t it?” I whispered.

  “Of course,” he said gruffly.

  I knew it was. The way he smelled, the way he’d looked at me. There were things that couldn’t be faked.

  I wasn’t sure how long we remained that way, but it was Nicole’s tinkling laugh that brought me back to my senses. Oliver released me, and I saw that my twin and Maxen were still lost in each other, both of them teary and smiling. He curled an arm around her, drawing her close again and kissing the top of her head.

  His gaze shifted to me, and he took Nicole’s hand and led her toward me and Oliver. She let go of Maxe
n and took a couple of running steps to me, throwing her arms around my neck with another gleeful squeal. I squeezed her back. Over her shoulder, I watched Maxen offer his hand to my father. As they shook hands, Maxen murmured his gratitude for bringing Nicole safely back to the fortress.

  But Maxen quickly backed off, and when I saw Oliver’s face, I understood why. My father’s expression had gone icy, and when the stone man looked like that, you instinctively wanted to put some distance between yourself and him.

  At first, I thought Oliver was angry. But the emotions clouding his eyes were more complicated than simple anger. That was there, yes, but there was also sorrow, regret, and distrust.

  The high of having my father and twin back in the fortress tempered as I realized the complexity existing between the four of us who stood in that room. Oliver had served Maxen’s mother with unrelenting loyalty for decades, and most likely shared her bed on occasion. Then Marisol had tried to kill me and Nicole. I’d ended Marisol’s life, but my sister carried Maxen’s child. It was soap-opera worthy, except this wasn’t bad TV. This was my life, and these were people I cared about.

  “Is there someone who can take Nicole to the infirmary?” Oliver asked. “She says she feels fine, but after her ordeal with the Duergar, I’d like to have her checked out.”

  I blinked, my eyes misting all over again. Oliver knew Nicole and I weren’t his blood daughters, but he was watching out for her as if it was his grandchild she carried.

  I cleared my throat, silently chiding myself for being so damn weepy lately. “Emmaline will send some of her people with Nicole,” I said. I shifted my gaze to Maxen. “If that sounds okay?”

  Nicole waved her hands as if trying to flag us down on the side of a highway. “Um, hello? I feel fine. Better than fine. I don’t need to see any doctors.”

  Maxen took both of her hands. “I’m sure you are fine, but would you go anyway? Just to be a hundred percent certain.”

  Her face softened, and a sweet smile touched her lips. “You know I can’t refuse.”

  He smiled broadly, folded her into an embrace, and then pressed his lips to hers.

  Maxen and I walked Nicole to the door, where I spoke quietly to Emmaline. She chose half a dozen of her troops to escort my twin. I thought it was overkill—Nicole needed directions to the medical wing more than she needed actual protection—but it was probably better to be cautious.

  Once the door closed again, Oliver turned to me. “How many attempts on your life since you took the throne?”

  “None that were successful,” I said, lifting my chin defiantly.

  He grimaced at my smartass response.

  “Raleigh and about thirty others threatened me with an accusation of treason last night.” I lowered my eyelids partway and folded my arms. “He’s now minus his sword hand.”

  Oliver’s scarred face tightened, and he ran a hand over his cropped hair.

  “I was there with her, and she did well,” Maxen said quietly. “She showed her authority while diffusing the situation, and no one died.”

  “Well, they should have,” Oliver barked.

  Maxen raised a shoulder and let it drop. “I agree. I told her so.”

  I lifted my hands in the air. “I couldn’t have taken on that many on my own. And I couldn’t have forced them all into cells single-handedly, either.”

  My father didn’t respond, but we both knew I was right. He gestured at the tablet on the table. “Where are you with establishing your court?”

  My court. I resisted the urge to gulp.

  “We were just about to start going down the list of appointments Petra needs to make,” Maxen said.

  Oliver cut a searing look at him. “Queen Petra,” he said sharply.

  I placed my hand on my father’s arm. “You don’t need to do that. He’s given me his full support in public.”

  “And his mother tried to murder you,” Oliver said harshly. “How do you know he didn’t know about it?”

  My eyes flicked to the closed door. “Because Marisol wanted to have Nicole killed, too. Maxen never would have—”

  “I’m not talking about Nicole,” Oliver cut in. “Maybe Marisol only told him about the assassin coming for you. Maybe he knew she wanted to kill you, but he didn’t know she wanted to kill Nicole. Did you think of that?”

  My lips parted. Well, no. I hadn’t thought of that, and I felt stupid for having overlooked it. My eyes slipped over to Maxen.

  “Maxen? Did you know your mother was planning to have me killed?” I held my breath as the question hung in the air.

  “No. Of course not.”

  I exhaled. He couldn’t lie.

  “And after Marisol sent Jaquard to kill Petra, did you know about the attempt on her life?” Oliver asked.

  “I knew only after he’d failed,” Maxen said, steadily holding my father’s gaze. His blue eyes shifted to me.

  Cool relief spread through me, but Oliver grimaced. He didn’t seem satisfied.

  “But you’d discovered Nicole was Petra’s twin,” my father said quietly. “And you knew of your mother’s prophecy, the one that said twin New Garg girls would have to die for her to become Queen of the New Gargs, as she so desperately wanted. You’re not an idiot. You had to have put two and two together.”

  Something struck me like a bolt from the sky. I’d always thought Marisol’s prophecy was that a pair of twins had to die in order for the stone bloods to get a kingdom. But I realized now, by the way my father had phrased it, that Marisol hadn’t been completely truthful when she spoke about the prophecy in public. Dead twin girls weren’t the requirement for kingdomhood. They were the requirement for a kingdom that had Marisol on the throne. She’d manipulated the New Gargs even more than I’d imagined.

  A pained look pulled at Maxen’s handsome features. “I didn’t believe my mother would have the two of them murdered. Maybe it was naïve of me, but I honestly didn’t.”

  Part of me wanted to know how Maxen had reacted after he’d found out Marisol tried to have me killed, but I didn’t want to have that discussion in front of Oliver.

  “We need to be satisfied with that,” I said to my father. “I’ve got so much to do, and I need Maxen’s help. We all know I can’t do it without him. And like I said, he supports me publicly for the sake of our people.”

  Oliver’s jaw muscles bunched, but finally he nodded and then went and sat at the table. Apparently, my father planned to attend our little meeting.

  I went back to my chair, and Maxen joined us. And then, as if the prior conversation hadn’t even happened, we started talking about possible candidates for the various positions in the Carraig court. It felt good to focus on something, and even better to make some progress, even if we didn’t get very far.

  When we got to the position of Head of Security, I turned to Oliver. “Would you take that post?” I asked. “There’s no one better suited, and you’re well-respected.”

  For a moment, his brow wrinkled, and I thought he’d refuse, but then he said, “Of course I will.”

  My gratitude was quickly followed by the worry that my actions might have negatively affected the way the Carraig viewed Oliver. But really, anyone who disrespected Oliver did so at their own risk. And as far as I knew, he’d lived a life of service that was beyond reproach. That had to count for something.

  Oliver was actually quite helpful in suggesting people who might be willing to serve in my court, and I was surprised at the number of candidates he came up with. Perhaps Marisol had not been as universally admired as I’d thought. Oberon’s words came back to me, his advice to seek out those who might not be shedding tears over the loss of Marisol Lothlorien.

  We worked until lunch and decided to take an hour break and then reconvene. Oliver stood but didn’t make a move to exit. Instead, he shot me a look of significance and waited for Maxen to leave.

  “You still don’t trust him, do you?” I asked.

  My father shook his head. “Not completely. I wit
nessed for years just how firmly he was pressed under his mother’s thumb.”

  I folded my arms, slanting a troubled look down at the floor. I had seen how controlling Marisol was, and I supposed I’d occasionally thought it might be good for Maxen to be more his own man. And perhaps, very deep down, there was a small part of him that was relieved to be out from under that pressure. Maybe not yet, but eventually.

  “But he couldn’t lie to us,” I said. “He said he didn’t know Marisol was going to try to kill me.”

  Oliver shook his head. “He clearly didn’t know about the direct order, but he’d discovered that Nicole was your twin and he knew of the prophecy. So even if he didn’t know, he still knew.”

  I sighed, suddenly tired. “Maybe. But like I said, I need him.”

  “It’d be better if you didn’t.”

  I held up my hands in surrender. “Maybe. But we’ve got an uphill battle ahead of us, and we need Maxen. For now, can you just play nice?”

  Oliver gave me a crazy-eyed smile that could chill the blood of battle-hardened soldiers. “Sure,” he said, a growl edging his voice. “I’ll play nice as long as he behaves himself, Your Majesty.”

  I shot him a playfully withering look, but my stomach was contracting into a tight ball. It wasn’t going to make my life any easier to have such palpable tension between Maxen and my father. It was bad enough that Maxen and I were still strained with each other.

  “So, Nicole must have told you?” I asked, eager to change the subject.

  “She did,” he said, and his expression relented a little. “Things between the two of them certainly . . . progressed. Didn’t they?”

  I gave a short laugh. “Yeah. I kind of suspected they were serious, but gods, she’s pregnant.”

  “At least she seems happy to stay in Faerie.”