Queen

by Claire Farrell

  “What are you doing out here?” Vix demanded, coming up behind us.

  I tried to relax. “Sitting.”

  She made a face. “With a horse, a pixie, and a… cat. Cats are unlucky.”

  “Black cat,” I said. “Isn’t that lucky for us?”

  “Us?” she asked scornfully. “Don’t pretend you think you are one of us.”

  “What am I then?”

  Her expression smoothed. “I have no idea. Get back inside. The midwife is looking for you.”

  I blew out a sigh. There was always someone looking for me.

  ***

  Sitting in court, I peeked at Sadler. He had made no reference to what I had done to him. His eye patch was black, of course, and every subject that knelt at the foot of the steps looked from the patch to me and back again. We were the one subject on everyone’s lips, even down to the most insignificant fae.

  A tall, haughty looking woman strode into the hall unannounced.

  Sadler looked up in surprise as she approached. “Fiadh? Your husband informed us you wouldn’t be returning to court. He said that your child is sickly.”

  She nodded, her eyes drifting to an annoyed-looking male fae who currently had his hand up his companion’s dress. With a jolt, I realised it was Glic, the faery who had tried to stop his servant from appearing before Sadler. Marie had returned home afterward, but I thought of her often.

  “It’s true,” Fiadh said. “And when I heard what’s been happening here, I decided to bring my son.”

  “To what end?” Sadler inquired.

  She glanced at me. “I thought the queen could… do something. Perhaps he can touch the mark of the fenris or—”

  Glic jumped to his feet, dumping his companion onto the lap of another fae, who wrapped his arms around her waist. She giggled and buried her face into his neck.

  “What are you doing?” Glic demanded. “You don’t come here and ask to touch the queen as if you were a commoner! Get that child home this instant.”

  Ignoring him, she focused on me. “They say you can’t be harmed, that your child is some kind of magical force and that you’re blessed by the goddess of fertility. I don’t care what they say. My son is dying. I’m desperate. Can you please… please help me?”

  Seeing a faery show emotion of her own that wasn’t hate or anger was so rare that I was momentarily stunned. An enormous warrior fae with wings that swept the floor carried in a boy that I assumed was Fiadh’s son. Then I realised everyone was staring at me.

  I cleared my throat. “What’s wrong with him?”

  “This isn’t court business,” Sadler said.

  “Then I’ll deal with her elsewhere,” I said.

  “You treat my prized possession as a nursemaid!” Glic roared, pointing at the warrior.

  “Conn has taken care of your household like a man,” Fiadh said, her eyes gleaming. “He’s all you left to defend us.”

  “Take this circus out of here,” Sadler said, dismissing me.

  I motioned for Fiadh and Conn to follow me. Vix, Rumble, and Anya joined us. I led them into the kitchen. A maid backed away from Conn when he carried the child into the room.

  Fiadh’s cheeks reddened. “My son is not contagious.”

  “I can see that,” the cook said. “He has the darkness in him is all. Was born in a bad place, I reckon. We’re no strangers to it.”

  Fiadh nodded and sat at the table. The warrior fae laid the child carefully on her lap.

  She smiled at him. “Thank you, Conn.”

  The child looked about ten in human years, but he was tiny, thin, and weak. Under his skin, grey veins could be seen.

  “Does… this happen a lot then?” I asked.

  “It’s the sickness,” the cook said. “It gets us all in the end.”

  “My husband made me return home to have the child,” Fiadh explained. “He said we would have a strong Darksider. He was wrong. As soon as the babe was born, I could see there was something wrong. He’s been getting weaker every day.” She lifted his shirt. “This started recently.”

  His stomach was covered in black wart-like growths.

  “It’s like a tumour,” she said, “eating him from the inside out. The land is tainted. I don’t know what to do for him. We don’t have medicine, at least not enough, not for this. Can you do anything?”

  “I’m… I don’t have any power,” I said, thinking hard. “But there might be a place you can go.”

  Anya looked at me. “He won’t let you leave.”

  “Not me.” I nodded the woman. “Are you willing to travel?”

  She nodded. “Anything. I would do anything.”

  I bit my lip. If I didn’t do something, her child would probably die or else become some kind of horrific creature. I remembered the creatures from the Hollows, the dark patches on their skin. I thought of the mirror, how darkness had emerged from under my skin. My baby would be born in the Darkside. I had to do something.

  “I’ll give you my horse,” I said. “And he’ll take you to the Miacha.”

  The cook dropped a pot, spilling soup on the floor. She ignored it as the maids scurried around her to clean up. “Did you say the Miacha?”

  I nodded. “I was there once. They have all kinds of herbs and medicines. They might be able to help you. But even if they can’t, they’re in neutral territory, in the Great Forest. The change in the air might help. If it does, then maybe you should think about… staying there.”

  The sudden silence in the room sent shivers down my back.

  “Leave the court?” Fiadh glanced at Conn. “They won’t allow this.”

  “You’ll already be gone.” I blew out a breath, knowing I was getting into something I wouldn’t be able to get out of. “I have a few favours to ask first.”

  Conn tensed.

  I looked up at him. “You could ride my horse. She can follow in a carriage. Once you get to neutral territory, mark the carriage with all three flags. If someone from either court approaches you and asks where you got the horse, quickly explain, and if you could, let them know that I’m okay. I’m… okay.”

  He nodded, looking too surprised to speak.

  “Fiadh, if you find the Miacha, could you tell them I sent you and that I know now why they were congratulating me?” I smiled. “And ask them if they can send any of their gifts our way. Tell them the Darkside is in desperate need of some care.”

  Fiadh leaned back in her chair. I waited for someone to speak, to say anything at all.

  “This… is not what I expected,” Fiadh said at last.

  Her son convulsed with a cough and black tar-like liquid poured from his nose and mouth.

  “Jesus,” I whispered. What would happen to my own child? “You should leave today. I’ll have to introduce you to the horse. Don’t ask. He’s contrary, but he’s fast and strong. If you get into trouble, get on his back and ride. He’ll outrun anything. He’ll find the Miacha. No worries.”

  She nodded. “If I don’t return, I’ll send the… gifts back to you.”

  I held up my hand. “If the baby has been born by then, I’ll probably be dead. If I’m dead, give them to the gardeners. Tell them I want them to plant. Tell them… to take good care of those gifts. They might help.”

  Fiadh handed the child to Conn, her eyes overly bright. She hugged me. I tried not to flinch at the contact, but she was genuinely grateful, not trying to take from me.

  “You could touch the mark if you wanted to,” I said. “But the fenris left me with a scar, not some kind of magic.”

  “This is a kind of magic,” she whispered, “what’s happening right now. Should I tell my husband I’m leaving?”

  “Fuck him. He’s an ignoramus anyway.” I gave the cook a hopeful smile. “Do you think you can give them some food?”

  She stared at me for a long time. “I can do that.”

  “Great. Let’s go to the stables so I can introduce you to Dubh. He comes across as an arsehole, but he’s a good horse.�
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  Vix caught my arm as I stood. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

  I had completely forgotten about her. “Are you going to stop me?”

  She shrugged. “You’re not doing anything wrong. You’re giving that horse away. One less thing for me to worry about. But… my lady, don’t think that you can change the court like this. Don’t think that those herbs or plants will grow here. Don’t think you can save that boy.”

  “It’s not me. It’s the Miacha. And by everyone’s reaction when I say I met them, they already are a miracle, so why wouldn’t they be able to perform one?”

  “They truly exist?” she asked, sounding as if she desperately needed to believe it.

  “I was cared for by them. They helped me journey through the Darkside. They’re healers, mothers, carers. If anyone can help the boy, they can.”

  I looked up at Rumble. “Let’s all go to the stables then.”

  I imagined that under his helmet, he smiled.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  When Dubh and the carriage left, Anya waited until we returned to my room then burst into tears.

  I wrapped my arms around her. “Calm down.”

  “You sent Dubh away. How are we going to escape now?”

  “He’ll be back.”

  “But it might be too late for you! What were you thinking?”

  “I was thinking I couldn’t sit there, knowing about the Miacha, and not help. He’s going to die if he doesn’t get help. Or worse.”

  She blinked away her tears. “Worse?”

  “Didn’t you see? It was as if he were transforming, the way the land here has transformed.” I hesitated then decided to just get it over and done with. “When I saw myself in the mirror, I was changed. Kind of like the boy, but I wasn’t sick with it.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “When I first met Líle, she looked like she had a fire under her skin, a trail of burning embers. It was so pretty. Anyway, in the mirror, my skin was like that, except the fire had turned to ash. Smokey ash. Toxic. Poisoned. But I was healthy. I just looked… bad.”

  “As in?”

  I sat on the bed and wrapped a blanket around my shoulders. “As in evil.”

  “The mirror is a lie. It has to be a lie.”

  “I might look again. Just to see what it shows me.”

  She frowned. “You can’t let a mirror lead you in life.”

  “That’s what Sadler did. He said the mirror never shows him anything he wants to see. The only time he’s been shown something… well, both times were images of me. I just don’t get why it’s showing me so many things, what the purpose of it is.”

  “I’ll smash it.” She pulled at her hair. “If you go back, I’ll smash it to pieces.”

  “Sadler would punish you.”

  “I don’t care! It’s a lie! It’s making you think things that won’t come true.”

  “Everyone dies because of me,” I said, lost in my memories of scenes in the mirror. “My being here pushes us all on a path to disaster. There’s no saving us.”

  She squeezed my arm. “What are you saying? You’re scaring me! Stop talking in that voice.”

  I looked at her and frowned. I had been outside myself, looking in. I cleared my throat. “Dubh will come back, hopefully with whatever the Miacha send.”

  I spent the rest of the day trying to reassure her that everything was okay. I was becoming a better liar all the time. That night, when Anya slept, I left my room again. Bekind was waiting in the hall, mewling. I wore my cloak to cover my face. Maybe if the guards saw me, they would think I was just another faery trying to crawl into bed and forge half an emotion with someone else.

  The cat and I crept up to the locked room. The same noise came from within, and there was still no answer when I knocked on the door. Bekind would find us a way in; I just knew it.

  On our way back, I led her to the room that housed the mirror. Bekind’s fur rose on her back when we entered. She spat and hissed.

  “Human,” I whispered. “Talk to me.”

  I checked the hall and stairs as she morphed out of her cat form. Her expression was grim.

  “Now what’s wrong?” I asked.

  “Is this the mirror they spoke of? The one you claimed to see?”

  “Yes! The doctor hurt me with a shard of its glass. It shows me things, shows everyone dying.”

  “And you touched it?”

  “For a minute. What is it?”

  “It feels like danger.” She walked around it and then stopped in front of the glass. “I don’t see myself. I see you right there, but I don’t see me. It’s as if I don’t exist.”

  I saw her. Dying. Multiple times. I decided to keep that to myself.

  “I don’t like this room. I feel like it will do me harm.”

  “If you’re not going to make any sense or explain anything, then you might as well be a cat,” I said, frustrated.

  “Someone’s coming,” she whispered. “Hide in the back.”

  “But I’m—”

  “Do it!” She turned back into the cat and scurried away.

  I heard footsteps on the stairs, lighter than Sadler’s. I hid in the back of the room, behind a bunch of old trunks that had been piled on top of each other.

  The person came into the room, rummaged around, then left. I moved to the door to see who it was. A short cloaked figure descended the stairs then turned into the hallway as if to cross into the other tower.

  I followed at a distance, hiding behind walls in an effort to be stealthy. He or she started up the second flight of stairs. I took a couple of steps then heard a door unlocking and someone stepping into an upper-level room. There was the sound of someone speaking, a door locking again, then nothing. I waited for a while before returning to the mirror room.

  I froze in the doorway. The mirror was gone. I wandered around the room, checking out the boxes and trunks, until Bekind returned.

  She morphed into human form. “You are not good at sneaking. Someone is in that locked room, lives there. I can smell… death.”

  I shook my head. “The mirror is gone, and I don’t know why. I don’t know what the hell is going on, but I’m going to find out. Look at all of this stuff.” I blew dust off a trunk and opened it—full of jewels. The next was the same. “It’s like a freaking pirate stash up here. Why can’t he use this to buy food and supplies?”

  “Worthless when nobody will sell to you.” She sneezed. “I’m leaving. Are you coming?”

  “I just want to look a while longer.”

  She grunted then turned into the cat and ran out of the room. I opened more trunks. They were all fitted with golden locks that weren’t secured. Some contained weapons; others held beautiful decorations. I lifted a heavy gold horse and thought of Drake’s carvings.

  At the back of the room, behind all of the fabulous paintings and tapestries, I found a small box, kind of like my mother’s jewellery box. I might have overlooked it if it wasn’t for that quick reminder that ripped out pieces of my heart. Would she ever know her grandchild? Ever learn how I ended up?

  Shuddering with an odd belated sense of grief, I opened the box and gasped. The contents consisted of an assortment of keepsakes: a pair of baby booties, a haphazardly painted carving of a soldier, a necklace, hairpins made from clear glass and shaped like doves, and an aged piece of paper with faded lines of a poem.

  Buried at the bottom was a stick with one end encased in a circle of brass and the other pointed. At the very tip of the pointed end, lines of black were embedded into the wood like webbing. I picked up the stick, which turned out to be heavier than it looked. Feeling something wash over me, I closed my eyes and squeezed the wood. Shivering at the sense of relief engulfing me, I opened my eyes. Moving my fingers revealed a black handprint on the wood. The wood absorbed the stain, and I checked my hand—nothing there.

  I started to put the box away, but I couldn’t do it. Something niggled at me, some tidbit of information
that I had forgotten. I racked my brain, but exhaustion worked against me.

  I slipped the stick into the waistband of my skirt. It was time to go back to wearing clothes with lots of pockets and hiding places, to wear sharp pins in my hair, and to become the toxic bitch of the faery realm. I needed to start pushing the pieces of the puzzle together and head home.

  I grew determined to get home and take my baby with me.

  ***

  Fiadh’s husband approached the dais the next morning, looking angry. “Where is my wife? She took my son somewhere. I want to know where!”

  Sadler shrugged. “I didn’t deal with her.”

  Glic stabbed a finger in my direction. “You. You did this to spite me.”

  “Did what? Helped your son? How the hell is that spiteful?”

  “Glic isn’t the true heir,” Vix said in a lazy tone. “His son is. This man is only a temporary… holder.”

  “Don’t speak to me, slave,” he snapped. “I am pure-blooded. An elite. You will bow down to your superiors, or I’ll have your head.”

  “He just threatened to do something only you have the right to do in this court,” I told Sadler. “I wouldn’t stand for that kind of insolence.”

  Glic spluttered, his red face turning purple.

  I flattened my emotions. “Your son and wife are on the way to a healer who will hopefully be able to clear him of the dark taint that’s winding its way around his body. Something you haven’t helped by forcing them to remain in a place that is suffering with it. Now you might be too busy spreading the legs of anyone with low enough standards to take you, but I’m not too busy to help one of the Dark Court’s subjects.”

  The man looked from me to Sadler and back again. He looked as though he was about to explode.

  I added, “Oh, and by the way. She’s in the hands of an extremely handsome warrior fae, so I’m pretty sure she’s gotten the better end of the deal these days.”

  With a howl of rage, Glic reached for his sword. I whipped the dagger out of Reynard’s sheath and held it in a threatening pose. He froze, his hand still on the hilt of his sword.