False Queen

by Nikki Jefford

  Ryo was ripped from me and tossed into the open courtyard. I saw his dark form go hurtling, heard him hit the stones with a grunt of pain. In his place stood the blurry figure of a one-horned male.

  I sheathed my sword; it would do no good when I couldn’t see clearly.

  Malon took a step toward me. I could feel the smile on his lips even though I couldn’t see it.

  He moved with slow, prowling steps, as though I was a wounded animal he wanted to take his time with. My pulse throbbed in my wrists. I tried to calm my breathing, but I was too keyed up to steady my heaving chest.

  “Melarue Heiris, how important are you to your sister? Very important, I imagine. Elves are more sentimental than Fae.”

  “You know something else about elves?” I said as Malon closed in. “You don’t fuck with us.” I threw both hands out and unleashed all the power that had been building inside me like a furnace reaching maximum heat.

  Malon screamed and stumbled backward. Smoked hide filled my nostrils. I wasn’t sure if it was his leather suit, his skin, or a combination of both. I was able to track Malon’s movements by the flaming figure that ran to the nearest fountain and jumped in.

  After I heard his loud splash, my knees buckled.

  I’d never used fire magic that intense. Never given over everything all at once. What if I had nothing left? Master Brygwyn had warned me that elemental magic had to be conserved.

  “The fire doesn’t burn eternal,” he’d said. “It must rest and replenish.”

  Could I even burn Malon when he was soaking wet?

  I blinked rapidly, trying to clear my eyes, but everything was fuzzy.

  “Ryo?” I called. “Are you all right?”

  “Yeah,” he answered, making me gasp with relief. “Are you?”

  “Fine. My vision is just fuzzy.”

  “I can’t see at all. It sounded like he went into the fountain.”

  “Yeah, after I fried the fucker.” I heard splashes and sputtering then quiet.

  My pulse quickened. The lights from the lanterns formed halos in the dark. I tried squinting to see if it helped. It didn’t. I made sure to position my back against the hedges so Malon couldn’t circle around and sneak up on me from behind. At least I would be able to make out his shape if he came at me again.

  I kept my head pointed in the direction he’d taken off to reach the fountain.

  “You bitch.” His voice shivered down my spine. “And you—”

  I missed the rest of what Malon said, if there was anything. All I heard after that was Ryo’s scream. The worst part was when he went silent. My heart froze in my chest, cold dread seizing my lungs, stealing any warmth or fire from my body.

  I’d failed. Failed in my mission. I’d let Jhaeros down. And Aerith. I’d—

  Never gotten a chance to kiss Ryo.

  No!

  No. No. No.

  My heart beat with the word. Air re-entered my lungs. Fire rekindled in my belly as electricity crackled in my fingers.

  I ran toward them, leaping over the bench as though I’d done it a thousand times before and could do it again blindfolded. As I neared, a dark figure took off running, his boots pounding across the stones. I dropped to my knees beside the figure on the ground.

  “Ryo!” I cried. “Ryo, are you okay?” I reached out to touch him, to reassure myself he still breathed.

  He’d gone still and silent.

  As I patted his chest, my fingers became coated in warm, wet blood. And as my vision cleared, I saw Malon’s remaining horn now lay on the ground beside Ryo, the pointed tip slick with blood.

  I lifted my head and screamed.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Hensley

  R

  ain pelted Ruby and me as we ran from the residence halls past the campus’s main apartment complex to the highly coveted Everwood Apartments. The townhouse-style units were very limited, but Jessica from costumes and makeup shared a three-level unit with her brother, Larry. Their pad had become the cast and crew’s hangout.

  We reached the driveway at the same time as Caroline and Kenneth, who’d had the foresight to bring umbrellas. Caroline played one of the king of Siam’s wives and was part of the chorus, but she had no speaking lines. Likewise, Kenneth had no speaking lines as one of the king’s guards. They spent a lot of time on their knees, foreheads pressed to the stage, bowing to the king.

  We all stampeded up the narrow wood stairs and let ourselves into a small entryway where we removed our shoes and raincoats. I’d worn my hair loose over a thin black sweater and jeans.

  New age acoustic music played from the living room. It was a sumptuous space with a large square sectional couch that sat low to the floor and had been dubbed “the playpen.” It fit ten people comfortably—fourteen if everyone was feeling friendly. It was cushy and comfortable with all its extra pillows for lounging. Bookshelves and drawers were built into the walls. Vanilla-scented votives illuminated the living room atop end tables and wall shelves.

  “Hi, Jessica,” we called out to our hostess.

  She stood holding a long-necked bottle of hard lemonade in a corner with a couple of cute guys from set design. Jessica had the coolest teal highlights, which were pulled up with the rest of her hair into a messy bun, loose strands framing her face. She looked fun in her striped blouse over a short skirt.

  “Make yourselves at home,” Jessica called out.

  We took the drinks we’d brought with us into the kitchen. Caroline opened the fridge and stood staring in with her bottle of chardonnay.

  “Fridge’s too full,” she said, reclosing it.

  “Guess we’ll have to drink all this up fast,” Ruby decided as she set down a six-pack of fuzzy navel wine coolers.

  “Problem solved,” I said with a smile.

  “Problem solved,” Ruby repeated, taking a bottle out of the cardboard carrier.

  “Problem solved,” the four of us chorused before erupting into laughter.

  Yeah, theater students are total dorks, and it would only get worse as the night wore on. Some cast members liked to get into character off stage, Dan chief among us. I hadn’t noticed him on the way in. He usually made a grand entrance once the evening was underway.

  My contribution to the party was canned sangria. I popped one open and took a swig, following Caroline, Kenneth, and Ruby into the living room.

  “Where’s Jess?” Kenneth asked with a frown.

  The two guys she’d been with were keeping their beer cans close to their lips as though they had nothing to talk about in her absence.

  Ruby leaned into me and whispered, “Probably dashed upstairs to tell her brother the star attraction has arrived.” She nudged me with her elbow.

  Heat filled my cheeks.

  Naturally, Ruby would notice Larry’s attention to me. He didn’t mingle, choosing only to speak to me and anyone I was standing near. Despite his interest, somehow he knew exactly when to excuse himself before things reached that awkward point of beginning to inch away.

  He attended all the rehearsals and always greeted me personally at these get-togethers. I didn’t quite know what to make of him, not to mention I wasn’t looking for a relationship. Maybe Larry wasn’t either. He hadn’t tried to do anything obvious, like ask me out on a date.

  “He is otherworldly gorgeous,” Ruby said between sips of her fuzzy naval. “I don’t understand why he’s not interested in acting.”

  I shrugged and took several gulps of sangria.

  Ruby held her drink over her head and made her way to the playpen, which already held ten cast members. “Move aside, chicas. Head wife is here,” Ruby called out.

  There was laughter and shuffling around as people made room for Ruby. I grabbed a chair and pulled it up to the couch, joining a debate about TV series versus movies.

  I drank down the rest of my sangria and took the can into the kitchen to deposit in the recycling bin. Now I had to pee, but several other girls had the same idea and a line had formed
at the bathroom. I turned away from the line and went for the stairs to try my luck in the bathroom on the top floor. Jessica had said to make ourselves at home. I would definitely feel more comfortable and at home once I’d emptied my bladder.

  The stairs had thick carpet that muffled my steps as I ascended. Reaching the hallway, I was happy to look down and see the bathroom door wide open, unoccupied. But as I took another step toward it, I heard a raised voice from an open bedroom.

  “This is taking too long,” Jessica said with impatience.

  “I don’t care how long it takes,” Larry answered. “I won’t rush this. It’s too important.”

  I stopped, not wanting to walk by and explain I’d come up to pee. Larry was super cute and gorgeous, and I sorta felt like I was in high school whenever I was around him—all awkward and stuff.

  “Besides, I can see you’re enjoying your gaggle of admirers,” Larry said.

  I backed slowly toward the stairs.

  “I think I’ve helped the production crew along rather nicely. Not everyone has my eye for costumes,” Jessica boasted. “Meanwhile, who knows what kinds of catastrophes are taking place back home.”

  “I visited Galather the other night and he said all was well,” Larry said firmly. “Aerith has everything under control.”

  “I hope so—for all our sakes.”

  I took each step down carefully. It sounded like Jessica and Larry had some family things to work out.

  At least there was only one person in line when I came down. I waited my turn and walked out of the bathroom feeling ready for another sangria. Before I could make it to the kitchen, the front door burst open as Dan and his understudy, Tyler, thundered into the entryway. Dan lifted a silver flask over his head and gave a loud whoop that pulled everyone’s attention his way.

  “The king is here,” he announced. “All of you must bow.”

  The group in the playpen tittered.

  “My charming husband, everyone,” Ruby yelled across the room, lifting her wine cooler. “Cheers.”

  “That’s not the proper greeting,” Dan scolded, wagging his finger at Ruby with each step closer to the couch.

  Some of the girls and even guys laughed and bowed, laying against the cushions. It had to be a lot more comfortable than the stage.

  “You are not bowing to the king?” a husky voice asked from behind me.

  My heart slammed into my chest. I hadn’t heard or sensed Larry’s approach, but there he stood behind me in a plain navy-blue T-shirt and khaki pants. Everything he wore always looked clean, fitted, and chic. He slid his hands into his pockets as he took a spot beside me with a lazy gray gaze wandering in the direction of the playpen.

  I bit at my lip, trying to search for a response and getting flustered in the process. What was it about this guy that made me nervous? It wasn’t “red flag” kind of nerves, more like a young, budding crush.

  I wasn’t quick with the comebacks like Ruby, so I turned to my character for inspiration.

  “I am not the king’s servant,” I answered, lifting my chin for added effect.

  A slow smile spread over Larry’s cheeks, his eyes shining silver. “No, you are not.”

  The delight in his tone and gaze made my heart flutter with pride. Again, I couldn’t explain it, like we were speaking in some kind of code I had yet to decipher.

  “You didn’t happen to go to Lincoln High or live in Seattle, did you?” I blurted out. “I feel like we’ve met before.”

  Larry’s smile faded, and his eyes went dull. “Perhaps in another life,” he said softly, pulling his hands from his pockets. “Enjoy the rest of the evening, Hensley.”

  Part of me ached to follow him upstairs and spend more time together, away from the increasingly rowdy group downstairs.

  The music was shut off and replaced with the soundtrack to Hamilton. Dan clapped his hands together to get everyone’s attention.

  “All right, everyone. Who’s ready to play the Hamilton drinking game?”

  “Me! Me!” Hands shot up into the air.

  Dan nodded. “If you already have a full drink, great. If you don’t, remedy that situation right away. You know the rules. Anytime someone is drunk or drinking, drink. Anytime King George sings, drink. Anytime anyone references Hamilton’s need to constantly write—” Dan opened his palm and leaned forward.

  “Drink!” the group in the playpen called out in unison.

  He grinned. “And anytime someone challenges someone else to a duel—”

  “Drink, woo!” Ruby yelled, already sounding drunk. She lifted a bottle of blue liquid and chugged a fourth of it down even though the game had yet to start.

  From nearby, Jessica shook her head and muttered, “I can’t believe this is how I’m spending my evening when sky only knows what’s happening back home.” She didn’t look to be speaking to anyone. Everyone was distracted with the drinking game, even her set crew admirers were leaning against the playpen, bottles ready.

  When Mulligan sang about having another round in “The Story of Tonight,” Kenneth raised his voice and yelled, “Drink!”

  Jessica had no drink in her hand, and neither did I. When her gaze found mine, it froze over me. Her foot tapped on the carpet, and she raised her brows. I sensed the same impatience she’d expressed to her brother when I overheard them speaking, but now it felt like it was directed at me. Like it was somehow personal.

  She tapped her wrist as though she wore a watch and mouthed “hurry up” as the Laurens sang about raising a glass and everyone took another swig of alcohol.

  I squinted, sucked into another weird pantomime. Did she want me to hurry up and get a drink so I could play along with the rest of the group?

  I wasn’t good at guessing games.

  Jessica spun around, her skirt twirling with her, and strode over to the playpen where the boys split apart to allow her room between them. When the next shout of “drink” went up, one of the boys handed Jessica his bottle. She lifted it to her lips and took a hearty gulp before handing it back.

  I traipsed into the kitchen and mixed myself a rum and Coke. I was way too sober for a Saturday night.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Melarue

  R

  yo. Ryo. Ryo.

  I didn’t know if my mind would ever stop screaming his name.

  “He’s going to be okay, Mel,” Aerith assured me for the sixth or seventh time.

  How could she know? How could she make false promises? She wasn’t Fae. She could fib all she wanted.

  It wasn’t fair to turn my anger on her, which is why I kept quiet, pacing the corridor outside Ryo’s room. The royal healers were inside with him, the door left open for family and additional healers to come and go as they pleased. A guard stood outside the door. I didn’t want to go inside. I didn’t want to see his lifeless form again. His blood still stained my fingers.

  For all my weapons training, I’d never seen anyone I cared about hurt. I’d never even seen a deer shot down. The only death I’d seen was the ogre Aerith had killed at her tournament.

  For all my tough talk, it hit me then how inexperienced I really was.

  Aerith, on the other hand, wore a mask of calm command. Gravity seemed to work in the opposite around her, pulling her chest skyward. One of her spies had seen Ryo leave the ballroom with the butterfly girl, along with me trailing behind, and enter the royal wings. The spy had waited and grown worried when the butterfly girl returned alone.

  Aerith had arrived in the courtyard with her guards as I was sobbing over Ryo’s body. From there she’d barked orders, starting with the careful lifting and transporting of Ryo to his bed. She’d dispatched a group of guards to begin a search of the castle and to drag Malon straight down to the dungeons, where she would deal with him once Ryo was on the mend.

  Everything she’d said sounded like it was spoken from the far side of the courtyard, as though my hearing had gone fuzzy as well.

  Even though I gave a description of Malo
n and his costume, which might now be singed, I doubted they would find him. He was a foul creature. A slippery eel. He’d slither out of the castle before they had a chance to catch him.

  It wasn’t fair that Ryo had been stabbed. He was one of the good ones, a unicorn amongst the rest of the Fae donkeys.

  “Mel,” Aerith said gently. “You should wash off. Rinse your eyes. I can have a guard escort you to the bathing chamber.”

  “No. I’m not leaving until I know he’s okay.”

  Aerith nodded and gave me space, crossing the hall to speak with Jhaeros and Galather. I was glad she wasn’t bossy when it came to me—glad she didn’t push or order me to rinse off and get myself together.

  Folas rounded the corner and zipped over to Aerith in long strides. “The guards at the gate saw him saddle his horse and take off from the castle. The stable hands said his face was badly burned.” I could feel Folas and the rest of them cast a glance my way.

  I wasn’t watching them, only listening. Normally, I would have crowed inside to hear how I’d flambéed that asshole, but with Ryo’s life on the line, I only wished I’d had enough fire in me to burn Malon to a crisp. That way he never would have gotten a chance to stab Ryo. All I’d done was anger him to the point of murdering his own brother. Malon, on the other hand, would heal with the help of his Fae blood. There was about only one ailment a Fae couldn’t heal from: death.

  My eyes stung. They kept watering from the remnants of the powder Malon had blown at us.

  “Shade Dust,” one of the healer’s had said after looking into my eyes. “Nasty stuff. Direct contact leaves you blind for up to twenty-four hours.”

  “And partial contact?” Aerith had demanded.

  “Blurred vision for up to six hours.”

  My vision already felt clear thanks to Ryo jumping in front of me. All that remained were the gritty remnants of Shade Dust. Aerith was right, I should rinse them, but I couldn’t bring myself to leave.

  The head healer, a female in long crimson robes, walked out of Ryo’s bedroom toward Aerith. I hurried to join them, anxious to hear the latest news.