Reign of the Stone Queen

by Jayne Faith

I tipped my head to look up at the rusted ladder. “How far will we be from the luxury quarters you were talking about?”

  “About half the distance we were before,” she replied.

  “That’s fantastic progress. Where to after the mechanical room?” Jasper asked. I cast him a quick, grateful look. I’d wanted to ask for more details, but Bryna was more likely to be helpful to him than to me.

  “There’s a stable nearby,” she said. “We’ll go outside and regroup there.”

  She reached for a rung over her head and nimbly made her way up. I went next with Eunice behind me, and Jasper climbed up last.

  The air in the mechanical room was heavy with steam that immediately condensed and clung to my skin. Loud chugging of pumps drowned out all other sound. There was no sign of any workers, and again I was thankful for the Unseelie style of revelry that meant everyone was allowed to abandon their work to join in the party. Well, everyone except guards, soldiers, and servants who supplied the food and drink.

  Bryna wove us through the machinery to an exit that spilled us into a corridor. By its plainness and the white-clad servants scurrying around, it was clearly a service hallway. And we most definitely did not fit in. Servants cast us odd looks, and one man gave us a dark frown, turning to watch us as we passed him.

  “We need to get out of here,” I muttered to Bryna.

  “Yeah, I know.”

  She cut to the right, then left, and we came to a door that was propped open by a chair. We stepped through it and were once again outside. The smell of hay and manure indicated Bryna’s memory was good—there were horses nearby. We skirted the wall of the building we’d just exited, following her as she speed-walked.

  Behind me, I heard Jasper’s reverberating low whistle, probably calling our location to Drifte. Half a minute later, it sounded again.

  Avoiding the brightly lit open doors where attendants stood chattering and laughing, Bryna took us around the side and to the back of the horse barn.

  She pointed to a keep, a rectangular building smaller than the one we’d just left, with a pointed roof that featured a glowing jeweled orb at the peak. “That’s the luxury quarters.”

  The structure stood about half a mile away. Not a challenging distance to cover, except for one thing. Between where we stood and the luxury quarters, the place was thick with guards. We were within the outer wall of Palace City, but there was another layer of wall to get through in order to access the luxury quarters. A gate to that area was open, and horse-drawn carts loaded with bulky items concealed under tarps were lined up, ready to go through. Soldiers swarmed each cart, inspecting everything from the bottoms of the horses’ hooves to the wheel cogs to the pockets of the cart drivers. I watched as guards peeled back a tarp to reveal a cart bed full of barrels. Elvish wine, if I had to guess.

  “Between the supplies and the level of security, I’d say we’re headed in the right direction,” I said.

  Jasper spared a quick glance at the carts, but his attention was trained on the sky. He stepped away from us and raised his fist.

  “That’s Drifte,” he said.

  It took me a second to pick out the shape of the dark bird against the night sky. Drifte swooped down toward us, and something landed with a soft ping on the dirt in front of Jasper’s boots. The raven shifter banked away and then circled back.

  Jasper bent to retrieve the object. “It’s a key.” He tipped his head back to watch Drifte. “Give me a moment. I’m going to speak to him.”

  Jasper darted away toward a spindly hawthorn tree and blended with the shadow of its trunk. A moment later, I saw a bird alight on the ground near the tree. The bird blurred, the blur expanded and shimmered, and then Drifte was there next to Jasper.

  After a few seconds, Jasper and Drifte appeared to be finishing up their conversation. The raven shifter crouched and then sprang up to catch one of the hawthorn tree’s lower branches. He swung up and blended into the foliage. As Jasper walked back toward us, a bird took flight from the top of the tree.

  I saw the spark in Jasper’s golden eyes, and I knew he’d gotten something useful from Drifte.

  “See that door?” Jasper leaned around the corner of the barn and pointed.

  Bryna, Eunice, and I peeked out to look. It took me a second to identify what he was talking about—a plain door that was almost completely obscured behind a trellis with decorative climbing plants threading up about twenty feet. It stood about halfway between where we were and the line of incoming carts getting inspected by Daoine guards.

  “Yeah?” I said, scooting back into the shadows.

  “Apparently it’s the entrance for, ah—” He skirted a glance at Eunice. “Companions who’ve been granted entry to the luxury suite.”

  I moistened my lips as my pulse jumped in anticipation. “The key?”

  Jasper nodded. “That’s our way in.”

  Suddenly, I knew I couldn’t allow Jasper to go in with only Eunice. There was simply no way I was going to stand around smelling horse shit while he went after the Unseelie High King.

  “I’m going in with you,” I said. “Not all the way to Finvarra, if that won’t work, but I want to be nearby.”

  Bryna snorted and muttered under her breath.

  Ignoring her, Jasper’s eyes tightened as his gaze remained trained on me. “We don’t know what’s on the other side of the door. Eunice and I have a cover, but how would we explain your presence when we’re questioned?”

  “I’ll say I’m offering myself to Finvarra as well,” I said.

  He peered at me doubtfully. “Petra, you don’t do subservient. Plus, that’s not the truth, and we both know it’s not possible to tell such a lie. I really think—”

  “No,” I interrupted, my voice pitched low. I stepped close to him. “I’m sorry, but hanging back while others jump into the fray is not who I am.” My hand went to my hip, where I drew my broadsword a few inches. “This is what I do. This is who I am—a fighter. It’s the best I have to offer. And if something went wrong in there—and let’s be honest, there’s a very good possibility of something going wrong, and I was standing out here with my thumb in my ass while it was happening—I’d never get past it. So I’m going with you. Deal with it.”

  His gaze shifted back and forth between my eyes for a moment, as if he was reading something in my face. “Okay,” he finally said.

  “Good luck with that,” Bryna said, the sarcastic edge to her tone making it clear enough what she thought of my little speech.

  I turned to her. “Where’ll you be?”

  “I’ll be looking for another way through the wall surrounding the luxury suite,” she said. “No guarantees, but I’ll try to get close. And more important, I’ll be looking for a good escape route for all of us.”

  “I appreciate that,” I said sincerely. I turned again to Jasper. “Did Drifte have anything to say about Oliver’s whereabouts?”

  I was trying not to think too hard about my father’s vanishing act, but my throat tightened a little when Jasper looked down and shook his head.

  “I’m sorry, he didn’t.”

  I nodded and tried to keep my focus on the task at hand.

  “I’ll keep an eye out for Oliver,” Bryna offered.

  I gave her a tight smile of thanks and then drew a deep breath and set my sights on the door hidden behind the trellis.

  “There’s one oddity of the door,” Jasper said. “Apparently it’s charmed to only allow one person in at a time. So the first person unlocks it and goes in, and Drifte will come for the key and bring it to the next person.” He shrugged.

  “A form of security, I guess,” I said.

  Jasper, Eunice, and I crept around the other side of the barn and waited until the attendants were occupied. Then we scurried silently to the wall and kept to the deep shadows until we reached the trellis. Crowding behind the foliage gave us decent cover from eyes that might happen to peer our way.

  Jasper stuck the key into the lock, and the m
echanism shifted with a soft click. I elbowed the door open a few inches and peered inside. There was a carpeted hallway with candle sconces on the walls. The hallway dead-ended to the left, so there was no choice of direction to make. The ceiling was open to the sky. I spotted Drifte perched above.

  “The two of you go in first,” I said.

  The vines jostled a bit as Eunice moved past me and slipped inside. The door closed, and several seconds later the soft swish of a birds’ wings above was followed by the plink of the key hitting the ground. Jasper retrieved it and followed Eunice.

  I tipped my head back and watched as Drifte appeared high above. He swooped my way, but instead of dropping the key, he bobbled it, let out an alarmed caw, and darted away. Confused, I leaned around the vines and craned to see where he’d gone. Drifte disappeared over the wall at the same time the drawstring of my cloak snapped against my throat as a strong hand violently hauled me backward.

  I threw one elbow back at my attacker and reached for my sword with my other hand, but fingers clamped over my mouth and my sword hand. I quickly summoned armor.

  “Not so fast, Your Majesty,” a male voice hissed in my ear.

  Before I could try to peel the hand away from my face, it released and something smacked my temple, right in one of the areas stone armor didn’t protect. The world reeled, and I fought to cling to consciousness.

  Chapter 20

  I WON THE battle to stay conscious, but just barely. Stars and dark splotches danced across my vision, and for several seconds I couldn’t muster the strength to fight whoever had grabbed me. He got both my arms behind my back and pinned them painfully high with one strong hand. His other arm snaked around my neck, and I felt the press of a knife edge under my left ear, the blade poised to slice across throat.

  A male voice let out a dark, triumphant chuckle near my ear. “I knew it was you.”

  I carefully twisted my head around and looked up, and my mouth dropped open at the sight of my blood father’s tall, bulky brother. “Darion?”

  “That’s right, niece.” He punctuated the last word by kneeing me hard in the kidney.

  I grunted and my knees weakened. My mind whirled as I focused on summoning enough strength to draw magic. After a second or two, my power flooded me in a warm wave and pushed to the surface of my skin, where it formed a thin layer of rock armor. A little flash of victory surged through me. With my neck protected, Darion couldn’t cut my throat. But my success was short-lived. With a growl, Darion let my arms go. I stumbled at the sudden release of pressure, and before I could recover, he boxed me violently in the ear with a roundhouse punch.

  My legs went weak, and I pitched forward to my knees, my ear ringing and my head screaming. If I’d had my full reflexes, I might have spun quickly enough to dodge the punch, but Darion was a career military man of large stature. And he hated me with the passion of a thousand suns for nearly killing him in the Battle of Champions.

  My lungs labored as I tried to breathe through the pain and keep from passing out. By the grace of the gods, he didn’t attack me again. I slowly tipped my head back to peer up at him. Everything swam as I fought to bring Darion’s face into focus. The eye on the side he’d hit seemed to be spasming. I blinked hard a couple of times.

  “Periclase isn’t going to be happy to find out you’re abusing one of his blood daughters,” I said, my words a little slurred.

  Darion sneered at me. “You’ll wish I’d taken you back to Daddy’s palace.”

  I pulled my right hand back on the dirt, slowly, intending to go for the sword that hung from my belt. I wasn’t stealthy enough.

  “Oh no you don’t,” Darion said.

  I tried to scuttle out of the way, but I was too slow. His boot stomped down on my hand, which wasn’t protected because stone armor didn’t extend all the way down my hands. I screamed as bones crunched and white-hot pain took over.

  He roughly pulled me up by the armpits, pulled my broadsword from its sheath and flung it away, and hauled me over his shoulder like a sack of flour. My breaths came out as wheezing moans. I wanted to struggle, but I had to give myself a moment to recover from the fog of having my head bashed and the excruciating pain radiating from my crushed hand. I looked down, trying to gauge whether I could reach any of Darion’s weapons. I was slung over his left shoulder, and he wore his short sword on his right hip. I stretched my fingers toward it, but it was out of reach. I couldn’t get to the karambit in my boot without his notice.

  Then I realized he was taking me through the gate in the wall that protected the luxury suite, the one where carts were being stopped for searches. I squinted, trying to make sense of my surroundings from my upside-down viewpoint. Not far away, a hooded figure stood near one of the cart horses, petting the animal. When she turned my way, she tipped the hood of her cloak back a bit and met my eyes. I caught my breath. It was Bryna. She’d surely seen what’d happened.

  She placed a finger against her lips, a signal for me to stay quiet. Then she looked beyond me to the gate, pointed to her chest and then to the gate, and nodded. I was pretty sure I understood what she meant—she was going to follow and, I hoped, help me escape Darion’s clutches.

  I flipped my fingers at her in acknowledgment and sent up a prayer that I was interpreting her signals correctly.

  “Eh, what’s this, Lord Darion?” a male voice called.

  Darion’s boots scuffed to a halt. “Too much drink and she’s injured herself,” he said. “Horse crushed her hand. She needs a medic.”

  I watched through slitted eyes as a guard came around to inspect my mangled hand. He sucked a breath in through his teeth. “Aye, she does need medical attention. Carry on, my lord.”

  Darion was on the move again, taking me through the gate. Bryna wasn’t far behind as she pretended to be part of the cart caravan the guards were waving through.

  “Don’t try anything, princess,” Darion hissed at me. “I won’t hesitate to stab you through the eye. Just try me.”

  I grunted in response. My hand was already tingling intensely as my stone blood began to speed-heal my bones. It’d probably take half a day to heal completely, but I was banking on the fact that Darion didn’t know how fast I could get better. I stayed limp over his shoulder and moaned a couple of times for effect, wanting to seem worse off than I was. Not that it was a huge stretch. My head was pounding like a bass drum, and I was pretty sure the punch to my ear had somehow damaged my eardrum because my inner ear was tingling like crazy, too.

  I focused on gathering my strength and trying to figure out where the hell we were in relation to where Jasper and Eunice had entered. Not far behind, I spotted Bryna peeling off from the carts to tail me.

  I let out a low moan and then coughed for good measure. “Where’s my father?” I asked in a raspy, weak voice. “I demand to see Periclase.”

  “Daddy had to go oversee things at the Summerlands.”

  I let out a sad little noise for effect as my thoughts spun. Darion was walking with purpose. Where was he taking me?

  We started up some stairs, and I lost sight of Bryna. I wasn’t sure whether she was trying to stay back so she wouldn’t be spotted or she’d gotten held up. Either way, I didn’t want to wait for her. I flexed my injured hand, and my knuckles cracked as bones realigned themselves. It was weak and tender, but I could use a two-handed grip if I had to. I just needed a damn weapon.

  I thought about taking my chances and pitching myself over Darion’s back, but if I landed on my head, I wasn’t sure I could stay conscious through another blow.

  I awkwardly peered around for anything that could assist me in my escape from my blood uncle’s huge hands. It was extremely inconvenient to be in a position where I could only see things after we’d already passed them. Not that there was much around that I might’ve used. We stopped climbing stairs, and Darion hauled me down a hallway with numbered doors, like a hotel. I guessed we were in the apartment section of the luxury accommodations, where the guest of
honor’s entourage stayed.

  Darion stopped at a door. I had to make a move. I couldn’t risk getting locked up somewhere. There was the sound of a latch releasing. As soon as Darion took a step, I swung to the side, curled my fingers around the doorjamb, and kicked for all I was worth, hoping my boot heels would find Darion’s face.

  He cursed and clamped his hand around my ankle, but I managed to slide off his shoulder. With one foot on the ground, the other locked in his grip, and my hands desperately clinging to the molding around the door, my body became the prize in a tug-of-war.

  “Let go of me, you asshole,” I ground out through clamped teeth. My injured hand was quickly losing strength and punishing me with white-hot pain as I tried to force it to grip the doorway.

  Darion responded by yanking my leg hard enough to rip my fingers off the doorjamb. My upper body fell to the floor, and I flopped and kicked, trying to force him to let me go. But I was losing the battle as he began to drag me into the room.

  “Help me!” I screeched, hoping nearby guests might be alarmed enough by my cries to investigate. “Help!”

  “Hey, you stupid Duergar! Look over here, ass hat!” The female voice sounded familiar. I looked around but didn’t see the source of the voice.

  Darion glanced up but then went back to trying to pull me around the half-open door.

  “Darion! I’m talking to you!” came the voice again, this time sounding as if it were only a few feet away.

  He paused at the sound of his name, straightening to look up and down the hall. Suddenly, he roared and dropped my leg. I pulled my feet under me and hopped to a crouch. A knife handle stuck out of his shoulder, blood already staining his shirt. I sprang at the short sword on his belt. He tried to bat me away, stiff-arming my attack. I turned my head, and his arm smacked into the stone armor protecting my shoulder. He caught a handful of my hood, and I twisted out of the cloak to the sound of ripping fabric. Strands of hair got yanked from my scalp as my wig was torn away.

  Still crouching, I curled my left hand into a fist and rammed it up into his crotch. Cheap shot, yeah, but I was in a pickle and wasn’t above fighting dirty. Another knife appeared out of nowhere, whizzing past my face and burying itself in his thigh, and his roar of pain rose in pitch. He listed sideways, crashing into the doorjamb. I stole the second of distraction and ripped the short sword from the scabbard on his belt.