False Queen

by Nikki Jefford

  Flashing my teeth at Albedo, I slid in front of him and stepped between his legs.

  “Comfortable?” I practically purred. He’d taken the throne, but I towered above him, casting my own shadow.

  His arms shot out, pulling me into his lap.

  “Interesting move,” I murmured, pressing my palms into the arms of the chairs to keep from falling against him, “but we cannot both have the throne.”

  Albedo’s pupils were like coals, and I was much too close to them. His thin lips held a slight smile.

  “But we can,” he said. “I can make you a queen. A real queen. My queen.”

  Not this again. The Elmrays seriously needed to import smartphones from the mortal realm and get themselves on Tinder. Talk about lazy. At least Cirrus had gotten out of the castle, and even Faerie, to search for candidates.

  Is this what Sarfina had been up to? Playing matchmaker? I shuddered at the thought of Albedo’s pale thin lips pressed against mine.

  At least the game had paid off, and I now knew Albedo’s intentions. He thought I could make his path to gaining the kingdom easier.

  “And what of my child?” I asked out of curiosity.

  His eyes flicked from my breasts to my belly hidden beneath my skirts.

  “Your condition merely demonstrates that you are fertile. After its birth, it would be sent to a noble home to be raised, or to your family if you preferred.”

  It? This prick really knew how to romance an elf.

  I leaned away. “And what of Liri?” I asked.

  “If Liri truly loves his human mate, then he will remain in the mortal realm.”

  “Until he wins Hensley back,” I said, hoping Liri was doing a better job than his cousin of wooing a female.

  Right. That might take a while. If he was lucky, Hensley would be drawn to him on Earth as she had been in Faerie.

  Albedo chuckled, his unwelcomed breath wafting over my face. “If he is successful, it will only bind him to the human and to the mortal realm even more.”

  My chest tightened.

  “What do you mean by that?” I demanded.

  Albedo pressed his lips into a tight grin that lacked any warmth. I stared into his pitiless eyes, willing more answers. When he refused to speak, I tried a different question.

  “What about Jastra, Sarfina, and Ryo?”

  “The others are all welcome in my court so long as they swear fealty to me.”

  “What about Teryani? Are you, or any of your brothers, after Ravensburg?”

  A dark shadow passed over Albedo’s face.

  I’d shown too much interest, steered us off course. Even if I hadn’t, I doubt he would have answered me. I’d gotten all I could from the bastard.

  “Enough questions,” he growled, lifting his knees to buck me against him. “It’s your turn to answer mine. I am offering you the throne.”

  The tip of his claw raked over my bustier and found my nipple, circling the areola before grazing the peak through the dark fabric.

  I wanted to laugh in his face for thinking I could be so easily seduced. He was revolting to me—a beetle to be crushed.

  I leaned in, glaring at him through the eyeholes of my lace mask.

  “The throne is already mine, and I would ask you to get your bony ass out of my chair.”

  His clawed finger froze. The darkest clouds gathered in his eyes, and I felt the first trace of unease as my stomach began to bottom out.

  I should have slid out of his lap and grabbed my bow and arrows from behind the chair first. But it had been all I could do not to rip the metallic claw off his finger and stick it in his eye.

  Albedo’s free hand shot up for my neck. Before I could scream, or bat it away, the blade of a sword appeared at Albedo’s neck from behind the chair.

  “Lower your hands unless you wish to lose your head,” came a deep, dangerous voice I hardly recognized as Jhaeros’s. The fingers that had come so close to my neck slowly retracted, the whole arm lowering to his side. “Both hands!” Jhaeros shouted.

  My eardrums rang with his fury, and my pulse quickened.

  Albedo removed the claw from my breast and lowered that arm as well. I scurried off his lap and looked over the chairback at Jhaeros, relief flooding my entire body. Jhaeros’s gaze was intent on Albedo, and there was murder in his eyes.

  “You are making a mistake,” Albedo said darkly. In a flash, his legs kicked out on either side of me, wrapped around me, and pulled. I stumbled forward, catching the glint of his dagger’s tip when he pulled it from an interior pocket of his coat. My throat burned with a silent scream as Albedo held the blade against my belly. “Remove your sword, or I’ll gut her like a pig.”

  My heart skipped a beat. I was afraid it might not restart, but it did and now it was thundering with fury and fear for the life being threatened by this bastard’s blade.

  Jhaeros lifted his sword away from Albedo’s throat slowly.

  “Now you are the one making a big mistake,” he seethed between clenched teeth.

  Albedo lowered his legs and jumped up, swinging me around, one arm around my neck, the other clawed hand, holding the dagger at my belly.

  “Allow me to open a portal,” he said.

  “That is beyond my control,” Jhaeros returned.

  “You better find a way unless you want to watch her die.”

  Jhaeros wasn’t looking at Albedo. He was staring at me with the same mix of anger and terror I felt.

  “My twin guards are the only Fae able to create portals with the wards up,” I said. “Folas can do it. He’s right outside the front entrance.”

  Eyes still on mine, Jhaeros said, “I’m not leaving you.”

  I gave a slight nod. “Then we’ll all go together.”

  It was awkward moving across the dais then down the steps with Albedo gripping me from behind, his blade ever poised. I didn’t want to step forward too quickly and find the steel cutting through my dress to the skin beneath.

  Jhaeros walked several feet beside and slightly to the front of us, one eye on the throne room doors, the other on me. When he reached the doors, he rapped on it once.

  Folas and Galather burst in, coming to an almost comical halt when they saw Albedo with his blade at my belly.

  “Folas, Albedo would like to leave the castle. Open a portal for him,” I said with a calm I did not feel.

  Folas snarled over my shoulder at Albedo. “I cannot do that, Your Highness, not while he’s holding on to you.”

  Jhaeros’s head dipped, his chin lowering as he cast a dark look at Albedo. “I agree,” Jhaeros said. “He can’t take you with him.”

  Albedo’s arm shook slightly. He pressed the knife against me, but it didn’t cut through—not yet. “You are the queen. Give them the order,” he snapped.

  I locked eyes with Jhaeros and said, “Very well. If this mongrel succeeds in killing me, I order you to see that he is taken to the dungeons straightaway and tortured for the remainder of his life.”

  “You have our word,” Galather said eagerly.

  From behind me, Albedo growled, his arm digging into my collarbone.

  “Fine, I will release you, but first you must make your guards open a portal and promise not to stop me from leaving or harm me on my way out.”

  “Go ahead,” I said to Folas.

  Galather stepped between us as Folas opened a narrow oval portal near the doors of the throne room. It didn’t surprise me to see its location far from the dais. If the king of Dahlquist allowed a high Fae to portal in for an audience, he, or she, would have to walk the length of the throne room to reach him.

  “Release Queen Aerith,” Galather gritted out between his teeth.

  Albedo’s hold on me tightened. “First make your promises.” Once Galather had, Albedo said, “And the other two. I want to hear them promise not to get in my way or harm me as I leave. I especially want to hear it from the servant with the sword.”

  I guess the pit head hadn’t picked up on the fact
that Jhaeros was neither Fae nor servant. I wondered if he’d try to go after Albedo. The thought of Jhaeros getting sucked into the portal and taken from me made my stomach lurch.

  Folas made his promise.

  “First you must promise not to harm Aerith on your way out,” Jhaeros said with a glare and a scowl aimed over my shoulder.

  “I promise not to harm Aerith on my way out,” Albedo repeated behind me. “Now you.”

  “I give you my word not to prevent you from taking the portal out of the castle, and I will not harm you in the next five seconds. But should you take longer, I will cut your fingers off one by one before slicing open your stomach.”

  I shivered. I bet I knew which finger Jhaeros would start with. I didn’t have long to ponder it before Albedo pushed me at Galather who made an oomph when he caught me against his chest. Albedo sprinted for the portal and dove in, calling out, “You will all pay for this. You have my word.”

  His voice was cut off when the portal closed.

  Steadying myself, I peered around Galather to look at Folas. “Please tell me you sent him to the bottom of your deepest ocean?”

  Folas gave a grunt. “Even better—the tar pits of Swampia.”

  “Sounds pleasant.”

  “It’s not.”

  Jhaeros glared at the spot where Albedo had disappeared. If the portal had boomeranged the blackguard back to the throne room, I had no doubt that Jhaeros would make good on his threat to gut him.

  I removed the lace mask from my face, having had enough of the itchy scrap. “Too bad he won’t be stuck there. He’ll just portal out right after he appears,” I said with a sigh.

  “But he’ll stink for days,” Galather said with a smirk.

  “Well, one down. I better return to the ballroom and see if I can locate Malon.”

  “Maybe Melarue has found him,” Jhaeros said. “I told her to keep a lookout.”

  “Then perhaps I should look for Mel, but I’m inclined to think Malon is the sort who will find me.”

  Jhaeros’s frown cut down both sides of his chin. I tried offering him a reassuring smile.

  “If he asks for a private audience, I’ll take him to the dungeon rather than the throne room.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Melarue

  L

  ong black tight boots stretched up to my thighs, leaving a foot of exposed skin where my red-and-black corset dipped below a wide black leather belt buckled low on my hips. The lace corset covered my chest, and over it, I wore long black see-through sleeves. Up front, I wore no skirt; behind me a heavy train of black-and-red lace ruffles cascaded to the floor. It felt more like a cloak than a dress, which suited me much better than a gown. A black fedora with a cluster of tall cream-and-brown feathers sat atop my head. Half my hair hung loosely at my back, the other half tumbled down my chest in soft, wide spirals that curled at the ends. Around my neck, I wore a lace choker with a large clockwork broach in the center. I’d also raided Jastra’s makeup stash and created a smoky smoldering look around my eyes. Coolest of all, was the short serrated sword, ribbed with sharp points along either side of the blade that Jhaeros had procured from the armory especially for me. Before leaving my room, I repeatedly eased it out of the long leather sheath at my hip so I could hold it at my side in front of the mirror.

  I looked kickass and hot as all the seven hells—combined.

  If only Devdan could see me now. He’d be sorry he hadn’t come with me to Dahlquist.

  At some point that evening, I intended to pop over to Pinemist with the help of either Folas or Galather and see if Devdan was waiting in the guest room for me, or anyone else, to come by for the weekly communication from Faerie. And yeah, maybe I wanted to look extra amazing.

  But first I had a Fae to hunt down. Mel was on a mission. In addition to the spiked sword, Jhaeros had given me a very important assignment. There were two troublesome cousins expected to attend the ball and Aerith’s attention would most likely be on the eldest, Albedo, which meant Jhaeros, Galather, and Folas would also be watching him, leaving Malon to me.

  “We know he has black shoulder-length hair and is average height,” Jhaeros had said. “He likes to wear frightening masks—goblins, ghouls, and beasts.”

  “I don’t need to hide behind a mask,” I’d said with a scoff.

  “Just promise me you’ll be careful.”

  “I can take care of myself.”

  “I know you can,” Jhaeros had said with so much conviction it was hard not to hug him on the spot, but we hadn’t reached that point quite yet. Between the secret mission and sword, Jhaeros was getting a lot warmer though.

  He’d also asked me to keep an eye on Ryo.

  “He’s next in line to the throne, which easily makes him his cousin’s next target.”

  “You can count on me, Jhaer.”

  Good thing I’d joined my sister in Dahlquist. My mission was the most critical of all: Save Prince Ryo from his evil cousins, and in so doing, save the entire kingdom.

  I pulled out my sword one last time and brandished it in front of the mirror, my scarlet-stained lips puckered, and eyebrows slanted in a take-no-prisoners death stare.

  Bad to the bone.

  Sword back at my hip, I strutted down the corridor to make my entrance at the ball.

  White lace ribbon hung from the open doorways like fancy streamers. The refreshment tables were adorned with bouquets of red roses accented with white and black feathers. Wine bubbled from glass flutes on one table, and chocolate truffles on little white lace doilies on another. A live orchestra played music that would sound outdated in the human realm—all bows and strings with no techno.

  Guests clustered in herds like sheep.

  Never one to sit or stand still for long, I strolled past the groups and couples mingling near the refreshments, staring into each of their faces. The women peered from behind dainty lace and feathered masks. Some had intricate patterns painted directly onto their faces. I admired the royal blue and gold swirls covering a dark-haired female’s forehead, nose, and cheeks. Her lips glittered dark blue.

  “Don’t get too distracted, Mel,” I reminded myself.

  I continued my stroll, head held high as though I was queen of the ball, my eyes roving over every new group of Fae I passed. Twice, I crossed from one end of the room to the other, but had yet to come across any beastly, ghoulish masked males.

  As I started my third round, I spotted the next best thing: Ryo. If I kept tabs on the prince, sooner or later I might get lucky and catch Malon closing in. The challenge now was to keep Ryo from seeing me. I was beginning to rethink not wearing a mask.

  On the other hand, the ballroom was filled with feathered Fae, which provided opportune cover so long as I kept enough of them between me and the prince. I peeked over laced shoulders.

  There was no missing Ryo in his tailored navy coat, snug breeches, and unkempt black hair. It looked like he’d just rolled out of bed in a sexy, devil-may-care way. He didn’t wear a mask. In fact, he could have wandered into any party dressed the way he was—polished yet not overdone. I liked him better for not trying to fit in with the flock.

  Sarfina scowled when she saw him. I watched her high blonde ponytail swing like a whip as she stormed up to him in her frock of peacock feathers and say something that I could only imagine was a scolding.

  Ryo’s lips didn’t move, except to frown.

  When she was finished admonishing him, Sarfina spun on her heels and strutted to the table of bubbling wine.

  Ryo stood frozen a moment, as though he’d been nailed to the floor by Sarfina’s words.

  Something inside my chest ached to join his side and tell jokes about the types of birds better fitting Sarfina. A squawking parrot. A vulture. A cuckoo.

  But it was imperative I remain on watch duty, which meant keeping a close eye on Ryo from afar.

  He kicked at the floor with the tip of his polished boot and put his hands in his pockets before taking them right back o
ut with a sheepish smile like he’d been caught picking his nose in public.

  I gave a little laugh then ducked behind a full hoop skirt of a nearby female when it appeared Ryo’s eyes were turning my way.

  “What are you doing?” the female above the bell-shaped brown-and-gold skirt demanded, turning her copper masked face to peer at me over her ruffled shoulder.

  Still crouched, I looked from her hem to her face. “I thought I saw a hole in your dress.”

  “A hole in my dress?” she repeated, her voice rising.

  “Uh-huh. Lots of little holes along the trimming, but it turned out it was just the lace—lots of little holes in lace, you know.”

  The female’s brown eyes blinked several times before her gold-tinted upper lip curled. “Who are you?” she demanded.

  I peered around her skirt to make sure Ryo wasn’t looking our way before straightening up. I positioned myself so that the female remained between us like a pillar—a very wide, frilly one with holes in her lace trim.

  “Who’s asking?” I said in a sassy tone to combat her haughty one.

  She huffed and lifted her nose. “I am Contessa Viessa, which you would know if you were from around here.”

  “Well, I’m not from around here, and your title means nothing to me.”

  The contessa gasped. A female draped in an orange-and-black feathered boa beside her glared at me.

  “Things have gone to shit since King Liri handed his kingdom over to an elf.”

  Oh! That did it. They could snub me all night long, but no one insulted my sister.

  “Ahem, Contessa, was it?” I said with a smirk. “I was wrong about your dress having holes in it. Actually, it’s on fire.”

  The female looked down in confusion and then at me. I pointed behind her back where flames licked at her hemline. She gave a shriek that made everyone around us jump. Her friend screamed, and the nearest Fae moved quickly away, their eyes wide with the horrible possibility that their outfits might catch on fire if they stood too close to her.

  Pitberries.