False Queen

by Nikki Jefford

  Isadore mirrored Malon’s wicked grin as though she knew exactly what he meant.

  I had to get out of there and warn Liri.

  If he married me, if he made me his queen, all would be lost. This world. This love. Gone forever as though it had only been a dream.

  This time it was Malon who stopped me. He pushed me face-first to the rug, dropping to his knees to pin my arms while Isadore chanted. Drowsiness pulled at my eyelids. The sorceress continued chanting, her voice growing nearer as she knelt beside me then swept my hair to one side. My lashes fluttered. Sleep threatened to pull me under until searing pain at the back of my neck jolted me fully awake.

  A scream ripped through my lips—outrage and pain.

  Isadore’s chanting intensified. Louder. Faster.

  The pain moved slowly like a claw digging into my skin, forming a circle. Once complete, the tip of her blade carved marks into the circle, all while Isadore chanted. I tried to push away from the ground but Malon’s fingers dug into my arms and his knee pressed into my spine.

  Isadore sliced into my skin several more times before announcing, “It is finished.”

  Malon released me. I scrambled to my feet and hurried out of the tent. Malon and Isadore didn’t try to stop me, nor did they emerge in pursuit.

  My thoughts were racing so fast I was afraid that by the time I reached Liri, I’d have forgotten important details.

  I ran toward the crowd surrounding the stage like thick bark around a tree. Heads of golden hair, snowy white, copper, brown, and black pointed toward the actors playing their parts. I shoved my way through the crowd and was elbowed for my efforts. Someone stepped on my slippered foot, and I sucked in a hiss of pain.

  “I need to speak to the king!” an actress shouted from the stage.

  I stopped in my tracks and gaped, half expecting the female to search the crowd for Liri. But her eyes were focused on the male guard dressed in royal livery. He looked like one of the traitors who had exited the tent after Malon dragged me in. He stood guard beside a tall wooden throne that had its back to the crowd, obscuring whomever sat upon the chair.

  The actor playing a royal guard folded his arms over his chest. “And why should I let you see the king?”

  The actress wrung her fingers. The sun overhead glinted over her beaded hairnet. “Listen to me. He’s in danger. I must warn him.”

  Goose bumps rose over my arms. This was all too uncanny. Malon had said he wanted to make sport of my predicament. That part I was unclear on. But one thing was sure, if I ran to Liri, I’d be playing right into our enemies’ hands. Liri would be safer if I ran away. I took a step back. That was when a single head turned in my direction. It was like staring into a mirror. My lookalike, my glamour, peered back at me. She sat beside Liri with the red and blue flowers circling her brown hair. When I took another step back, her eyes narrowed.

  “The king is dead!” a female shrieked onstage.

  I thought it was part of the production, but when alarmed murmurs arose in the crowd, I stood on tiptoe and peered at the stage. The throne had been turned to face the crowd and on it sat the slumped figure of a male who looked just like Liri. A sword protruded from his gut, blood soaking through his gold doublet.

  My heart lurched, and I swayed on my feet. I caught a glimpse of Liri sitting on the bench right before the screaming started. The wave of Fae I’d been fighting my way through now surged forward, taking me with them, as though on a tide pulling me deeper into the sea of bodies.

  Amidst the shouts, I could have sworn I heard Malon’s low chuckle, mirthful and malevolent.

  A mass of bodies pushed and shoved their way toward the stage for a closer look.

  “Stand back!” Folas yelled. He, Galather, and the two other guards had drawn their swords and surrounded Liri. “Your true king is alive. Whoever is responsible for this subterfuge will pay with their life. Do any of you want to step forward and confess?”

  The crowd went silent except for the rustle of clothes as they now moved away from the stage, backing up slowly.

  Jastra and Ryo stood near Galather, but in the chaos my lookalike had slipped away.

  “Where is Hensley?” Liri shouted.

  Before I could duck down and hide in the crowd, Galather pointed at me and bellowed, “There!” No sooner had he spotted me then he was crashing through the crowd. He reached me in record speed, took my arm in a gentle but firm grasp, and brought me over to our group.

  Seeing that everyone was accounted for, Liri gave a nod, relief flashing over his features before they turned to stone. He whipped around to face the stage. His glamour still sat skewered in his chair. The female who had been shrieking had vanished.

  Liri leaped onto the stage, his guards following quickly.

  When I tried to linger, Galather turned back and grabbed my arm. “We all stick together.”

  Gray clouds gathered in my head, dampening my spirits and any hope of saving Liri. I wished I could convince him to forget me. If only he could go back a few months to the indifference he’d felt. Pain stabbed through my heart. Loving him had been the best thing to ever happen to me. But we were never meant to be.

  The large tent behind the stage was empty of Fae. They’d seemingly vanished.

  Liri kicked over a table, growling in frustration.

  Jastra folded her arms tightly beneath her bosom and scanned the tent. “No one would stick around,” she noted. “Even if they were innocent, they’d fear retribution for being in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

  Galather grunted, his lips peeling back in a look of disgust.

  Ryo was busy rooting around the tent. He crouched beside the knocked over table, lifted a sword, and ran his eyes up and down the blade, smiling.

  “What should be done with the body, my king?” one of the guards asked.

  “Leave it,” Liri sneered. “They made this mess; they can clean it up. I want this whole festival shut down for good. Once we reach the castle, you will gather a group of royal guards and return to see it done.”

  The guard bowed his head. “Yes, my king.”

  “The citizens of Dahlquist will hate you for it.” Jastra unfolded her arms and twisted the cuff bracelet around her wrist.

  Liri puffed up his chest. “I am their ruler, not their entertainer.”

  Jastra stopped twisting her bracelet and nodded. “Yes, absolutely,” she agreed.

  “Unless you’re playing right into the perpetrator’s hands,” Ryo said. “Maybe someone wants to make you look bad, making it easier to overthrow you. And by someone, I mean our cousin Albedo.”

  Their cousin most certainly wanted to steal Liri’s crown. When I tried to warn them it came out as a string of lyrics from My Fair Lady.

  “Lots of chocolate for me to eat. Lots of coal makin’ lots of heat. Warm face, warm hands, warm feet. Oh, wouldn’t it be loverly?”

  I lifted my hand to my mouth. What the heck?

  Liri tilted his head to the side, staring at me for several seconds before returning his gaze to Ryo and narrowing his eyes. “Galather, take that sword from my brother before he hurts himself.”

  “Hey! Finders keepers.” Ryo’s lower lip pouted as Galather took the sword from his hand.

  “I’ve had enough of this. We’re all returning to the castle,” Liri announced.

  No. No. No. He should listen to Ryo’s warning about their cousin. This was only the beginning, not even Act I. This was a mere prologue. A warm-up performance before the true malice began.

  I rushed to Liri’s side, squeezing my hands together. When I opened my mouth, gibberish poured out. “Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens.” No. That wasn’t what I’d meant to say. My eyes widened, shocked by my own words. I cleared my throat and tried again. “Girls in white dresses with blue satin sashes.”

  Jastra looked me up and down, folding her arms. “You make less sense to me with every passing day.”

  Liri frowned. “What is it, dear Hensley? Tell me.” />
  I growled in frustration and raised my voice in case that would help get the real words out, but my brain thought one thing while my mouth spoke another. I shook my hands in front of me as I attempted yet again to communicate. “Seventy-six trombones led the big parade.”

  Ryo snickered.

  “Shut up, Ryo!” Liri snapped. He twisted around, glaring at everyone inside the tent except for me. “How did Hensley get so far away from our group?” he demanded.

  Jastra shook her head. “What do you mean?”

  “During the pandemonium. Hensley was by my side then suddenly off in the crowd. How is that possible?”

  “Maybe she panicked and ran.” Jastra shrugged.

  I glared at her.

  “No,” Liri said slowly. He turned to me. Our eyes met, and I knew that without having to speak he at least understood that something wasn’t right. “Someone got to her. Someone messed with her mind so that she cannot tell us what was done. This whole thing stinks of Malon.”

  I nodded hastily.

  I opened my mouth, hoping the third time would be a charm. “‘It’s a hard-knock life for us. It’s a hard-knock life for us. Instead of treated, we get tricked. Instead of kisses, we get kicked.’” Gah! Now Annie. What was with the show tunes? I had no notion of which one would spill from my lips. I wasn’t even singing them, just saying them, which sounded ridiculous. I held my hands in front of me as though my fingers would help draw out my words in their true form. I shook them in front of me. “The sun will come out. Tomorrow. Bet your bottom dollar that tomorrow, there’ll be sun.”

  Ryo wrinkled his nose. “Okay, now she’s starting to freak me out.”

  Icy pinpricks of unease stabbed at my spine as I recalled the way Isadore had rooted around in my mind. Was it any coincidence that I was spouting musical lyrics after she’d seen my past passions—promised my heart’s desire so long as the trap for Liri was set?

  “You must put off the wedding,” Jastra said.

  I nodded, but Liri wasn’t looking at me.

  “I will not.”

  “Are you sure it is wise to go through with it, brother?”

  “Canceling the wedding is exactly what my cousins want. Let them do their worst. Let them make her crow like a chicken, and still I will marry her.”

  Jastra snorted and raised a brow. “Crow like a chicken?”

  “Whatever spell she’s under will be broken once the crown is placed on her head.”

  “Are you sure? I thought it was true love’s kiss.”

  Liri huffed. “Drivel imported from the mortal realm.”

  I shook my head. No! Not the mortal realm.

  I cupped my fingers and held them in front of my nose, pulling my hand forward, attempting to mime the wolf mask Malon had worn the time I saw him with Liri. Next, I pretended to hold an invisible crown and place it over my head. I patted the top of my head and shook it violently.

  “Someone must have compelled her,” Ryo said.

  Liri folded his arms over his chest. “She cannot be compelled.”

  Ryo’s brows rose when he looked at me. “What then? An enchantment?”

  “A witch,” Liri said, his upper lip curling.

  Jastra took a step toward him. “You don’t think—”

  “Don’t say her name,” Liri warned.

  That sparked an idea. All I had to do was show Liri the witch’s mark on the back of my neck. Maybe then he could fix things before it was too late. But the moment I thought of lifting my hands to my hair, my arms grew heavy, weighting themselves to my sides.

  I groaned in frustration.

  Liri’s gaze softened when he looked at me. “Fear not, dearest. My cousins will not stop us with their infantile games. I will marry you. And I will fix this.” He snapped his attention to Galather. “Until then, Hensley must be watched over at all times.”

  “You already have Galather and Folas splitting their attentions,” Jastra noted.

  “It’s not enough,” Liri said. “Send for Aerith.”

  My heart thudded as though it was a bruised apple that had just been kicked.

  “With Lyklor at Ravensburg, Teryani will likely want to keep Aerith close to keep an extra set of eyes on him,” Jastra said.

  Liri’s hands balled into fists. “I want Aerith!” he bellowed.

  I flinched, anguish and envy tying my stomach into frayed knots. Even knowing Liri didn’t mean the words literally, they ripped at my soul.

  If only he knew.

  Aerith couldn’t save us.

  A set of Teryani’s royal guards escorted Liri, Folas, Galather, and me down the hall toward the queen’s personal chamber. Upon our arrival, one of her royal guards had hurried to meet us, conveying Teryani’s wishes that we be brought directly to her.

  Jastra had been correct. Teryani wasn’t willing to let Aerith go, and Liri wasn’t taking no for an answer. So here we were. Jastra had been left in charge during our absence. Liri planned a swift return trip back to Dahlquist—Aerith in tow. I’d been on pins and needles the entire carriage ride, dreading her inevitable scowl. She must hate me now. If only she knew how much I desired her freedom and happiness—far above my own. She was the closest thing I’d ever had to a sister.

  When we reached a heavy oak door, Teryani’s guards stopped. “Your escorts must wait out here.”

  Folas stepped forward. “The king doesn’t leave our sight.”

  “Folas.” Liri cleared his throat. “It is fine.”

  Folas ground his teeth together and stayed in place.

  Teryani’s guard tapped out a quick tempo on the queen’s door then listened. I didn’t hear anything, but he must have, for he said, “You may go in.”

  Liri swept his hand forward for me to go first.

  I stepped onto a thick moss-green rug with light brown, yellow, and blue flowers and swirls. Antique furniture lined the edges of the rug. Beside it was a different colored rug, arranged with statues and chairs, then another rug. It looked like different rooms without walls. Flames stretched and danced in a large fireplace. Beside it, Teryani lay stretched out over a white chaise lounge, a thick furry white rug at the legs of her seat. A black gown made of mesh and white floral beadwork clung to her arms and torso, the skirts loosening below her hips. Long white hair tumbled over both shoulders, reaching the seat of the chaise lounge. Atop her head, she wore a gold crown, smaller than the one from her coronation.

  “King Liri,” Teryani called out. “How considerate of you to call on me.” She looked past him as she spoke, straight at the door we’d just entered. Upon seeing it firmly closed, she jumped up, bare feet sinking into the sumptuous rug below her. “Are you insane?” she hissed, changing her expression and tone to one of displeasure. “Lyklor watches my every move like a vulture.” Her lips curled. “You should not have come here.”

  Liri narrowed his eyes. “Then you should have sent me Aerith.” He came to a stop on the edge of the white rug as though it was quicksand he didn’t wish to step into.

  Teryani lifted her chin. “Aerith is mine now.”

  Liri gritted his teeth. “Aerith is family, not a possession.”

  Teryani laughed. “I must have misheard you, Liri.”

  “You did not. I am sending Aerith back to Pinemist after Hensley and I are wed.”

  I fought the urge to protest our marriage. No matter how many times I tried, show tunes came out, and the more I tried, the fuzzier my mind became on what I was trying to say in the first place. A warning, but what? It was beginning to fade like the print on a T-shirt after hundreds of washes. Each time I spoke in lyrics, my memory of the festival faded a little more.

  “What if she no longer wishes to return to the elven realm?” Teryani asked.

  Liri snorted. “Now I must be the one who misheard. Do you expect me to believe Aerith is content to live here in Ravensburg with you?”

  “You doubt me?”

  What was Teryani up to? There was no way Aerith would want to remain in Faerie.
All she’d ever wanted was to return home. Elves could not be compelled the way humans could. So what had Teryani done to change Aerith’s mind?

  “I want to hear it from Aerith’s own mouth,” Liri said.

  “And then you will leave?”

  Liri gave the slightest nod.

  Teryani swept past us. “I will have her sent for,” she said, striding to the door. She pulled it open a crack and spoke to someone on the other side. After securing the door again, Teryani returned to the white rug by the fire, facing the dancing flames.

  Liri moved around the room with measured steps, taking in the surroundings. There wasn’t much décor beyond the furnishing and statues.

  “And how fairs your lover?” he drawled. “Did you dispatch him after he served your purpose?”

  “I had him returned home, unharmed.”

  There was no emotion in her tone. If it weren’t for a faerie’s inability to lie, I might have doubted her. For someone so secretive, I wondered if she’d release the male elf who had helped her take the throne from her aunt.

  “And richly rewarded, no doubt,” Liri said.

  “He was very happy with his reward,” Teryani answered evenly.

  A slightly different tempo tapped at the door before it opened and Aerith walked in. Her blonde hair was swept up and secured with jeweled hair combs that caught the light and made her head sparkle as she moved toward us in a light blue gown that reminded me of a summer’s breeze.

  My palms felt clammy.

  “Why are you not fat with child?” Liri demanded, ever the tactless Fae brother-in-law.

  Aerith stopped in place and glared at him. “I miscarried. Probably from the stress you put me through.”

  Guilt punched me in the gut, and bile rose up my throat. My knees weakened. I wanted to fall to the floor and beg Aerith’s forgiveness. The morning we’d gathered for breakfast at Dahlquist and Liri had accused Aerith of trying to throw herself at him and pass off her child as his, I’d jumped in to save her, not doom her. I’d had only the purest intentions. I’d believed I’d be thrown in the dungeons or killed, but I’d been willing to sacrifice myself for her.

  Little good it had done. She was still trapped in Faerie, and she’d lost her child.