To Catch a Queen

by Shanna Swendson

  “Why would your sister have brought your grandmother?” Eamon asked as they walked.

  “I have no idea. I guess theoretically she’s also in line for the throne, and she might have the kind of power Sophie does. We could probably use the help. But she’s way too much like Sophie, so this could make things very interesting.”

  “She’s like Sophie?” Eamon asked warily, and she gave him a grim nod in reply.

  “Let’s just say that a lot of it seems to be genetic.”

  “So we should probably hurry to secure the army and return.”

  “You got it.” Although she was tired, she forced herself to walk faster toward the place where the army was supposed to gather.

  Fortunately, they were exactly where they were supposed to be. “Emily!” the leader said when she approached. “We were waiting for your sister’s signal.”

  “You met Sophie?” It must have gone well, since they all appeared to be in one piece.

  “Yes, she and her consort arrived here. You didn’t tell us your sister was queen of the Realm.”

  “Now you know how I knew the queen taking action against you was an impostor.”

  “Should we continue to wait for the signal?”

  “Change of plans. Do you think you can glamour up some shiny armor? It seems that the queen needs an army, and it’s gotta look good.”

  Thirty-seven

  The Dais

  Meanwhile

  Sophie held her breath as she waited to see what Michael would do. She didn’t think he’d actually try to hurt her—he wasn’t that desperate yet—but what he did next would affect the plan she was still frantically spinning in her head.

  She didn’t yet see a way out. She owed it to him not to be the one thing standing between him and his wife. Any temptation she might ever have had to allow him a gallant failure so he’d have to give up on saving Jennifer and move on with his life (preferably with her) was thwarted by the head-to-head nature of this trial. Defeating him would mean she’d never have him, even if he lost Jen forever, because she’d be responsible for the loss. She didn’t think he could forgive that.

  At the same time, she couldn’t allow an impostor to steal her throne and use her rightful position to attack the human world, no matter who that impostor was. It was a no-win situation, and the best she could do was play for time until she could come up with an idea or someone else could make a move.

  It felt like ages before Michael lunged at her with his sword. His eyes telegraphed exactly where he was aiming, so she easily danced out of the way. She didn’t think he knew anything about this kind of fighting, but she was sure that not telegraphing his moves in a fight would have been part of his police training. That must mean he was playing along. Her swordplay experience was limited to choreographed stage bouts that were more dance than fighting, but that meant she could make this look good.

  She parried his thrust and focused intently on the spot just below his right shoulder, leaning her body ever so slightly in that direction before making her riposte. As she’d hoped, he saw the blow coming and blocked it. She danced back out of the way with a pirouette just for show, avoiding his retaliatory strike and parrying his riposte as she came out of the turn.

  The crowd booed, and she realized that she’d been cast as the villain. She could only imagine what Niall—and it had to be Niall—had made her look like. Jen had called her a vile witch, so she probably looked like a suitably evil crone. That would certainly make some of her moves look even more impressive.

  She jumped sideways to avoid Michael’s next strike, doing a grand glissade that took her legs to a near-split in mid-leap. It would be a terrible move in a real fight, but the amount of air she got looked good. As soon as she landed, she went into a series of lightning-fast chaîné turns. Spinning as she traveled, she came up behind Michael and swung at him. He caught her sword with a backswing.

  They stood for a moment, their swords pressed together, and she thought he looked like he was having to work to hide a smile. This was fun, actually. Or it would be, if the stakes weren’t so life-or-death and if she knew how to end it suitably. What would happen if she let him win? If she surrendered, they might make him kill her, but maybe she could fake her death. She’d never made herself vanish in a puff of smoke, and this was no situation for trying something new, but she might be able to glamour herself in such a way that she could get out of sight, and then she could still take the crown and prove herself the rightful ruler.

  But would that fulfill the magical requirements of whatever held Jen? To win, he’d have to defeat the witch, as he was ordered. She wasn’t sure a faked death or a surrender would count. Since she had no intention of actually dying, faking would be the best she could do. Maybe she could get away with just killing the hag glamour Niall must have given her.

  They continued circling each other, doing the occasional thrust, parry, riposte combination. He kept his movements strong and economical, while she put in enough flash to make it look like taunting. Neither of them had drawn blood, and it sounded like the crowd was growing impatient. They were calling out for her head, booing every time Michael swung at her without killing her. When she managed a quick glance at Jen, the would-be queen looked like she was ready for this to be over with. She drummed her fingers impatiently on the arm of her throne.

  That meant the fight needed to start looking a little more real. Sophie aimed her sword at the inside of Michael’s coat, where the audience couldn’t see what happened to it, hoping he got the message. Her jacket was unbuttoned, with the belt undone, so if he just got the tip of his sword inside her jacket, she could make it look like he’d got in a good strike.

  He caught on right away, and she loved him a little more for it. Once his sword made it into the depths of her coat, she cried out and flinched before parrying his sword away. Instead of moving gracefully out of reach, she staggered backward, her free hand pressed against her side. The crowd roared their approval.

  Sophie forced herself to move more slowly, like she was in pain, when she counterattacked. She aimed a flurry of strikes against his sword, which he easily batted away. Then he left himself open, as though encouraging her to get in a good hit of her own.

  No, that’s not how this works, she wanted to scream at him. This wasn’t about playing fair. She was the villain, the wicked witch, the evil usurper queen. He was Prince Charming. He was supposed to win, not be a gentleman and let her look good.

  Then again, it did add a little drama to the proceedings if the hero got at least a bit bloody. Why not give Jen the chance to worry about him? Maybe it would jolt her more back to herself if she thought her husband was wounded. Sophie took the opening he gave her and thrust her sword into the depths of his coat with an evil cackle.

  It took all Sophie’s willpower not to grin at his response. Jen might have been the actress in that marriage, but he’d picked up a thing or two. For a second, Sophie even wondered if she’d miscalculated and had actually struck him, his look of dismay and betrayal was so powerful. If he’d reached into his coat and brought back a hand covered in blood, she might not have been too surprised.

  He staggered quite theatrically, and when he caught Sophie’s eye it looked to her like he was fighting not to laugh. She’d never seen him as being such a ham, but then she hadn’t spent any time with him when there wasn’t an immediate crisis, so while she knew the kind of man he was deep down inside, she didn’t really know what he was like on a day-to-day basis.

  He pulled himself together with a visible effort and lunged at her. His attack was so ferocious that she had to react quickly to avoid it and barely skittered out of the way. Even though the fight was fake, she was starting to get tired, and he looked even worse. He was breathing hard and a little pale. It was time to end it.

  She caught his eye, and when she was sure she had his attention, she closed her eyes in a very decisive way, trying to signal her intentions. He flinched, so she got the feeling he’d read her correctl
y. She nodded, and the distress on his face was evident as he raised his sword.

  She built the glamour in her mind as the sword came toward her. At the last second, she ducked and rolled out of the way as she brought up the illusion that would show the old hag falling to the floor under her cloak. Meanwhile, she threw up another glamour around herself, making herself invisible as she lay on the floor. Michael should be able to see what really happened, but it was hard to tell, the distress on his face was so evident.

  The crowd roared, and Michael slowly turned to face them, his sword hanging by his side. Sophie quickly added a glamour of blood to his blade so his victory would look authentic. He acknowledged the audience, then returned his attention to Jen, who had risen from the throne, beaming. She held her hands out to him, and his smile brought tears to Sophie’s eyes as he moved toward his wife.

  “Michael?” Jen said softly when he came to her, reaching up to touch her husband’s face. For the first time since Sophie had known her, Jen’s eyes were clear and sharp, like she was finally fully conscious of who she was.

  His eyes glittered with unshed tears as he said, “Yeah, it’s me.”

  “Michael, they made me do it,” she said, her voice shaking.

  “It’s okay, I know,” he replied, putting his arms around her and drawing her against his body. With a strangled sob, she buried her face against his shoulder. He dropped his sword, letting it clatter onto the floor, as he held her like he would never let her go. It looked like the happy ending of a romantic movie with the hero and heroine happily reunited and together forevermore.

  Sophie had to wipe tears from her eyes. She knew she’d lost him, but seeing him this happy made it worth it. This was what she’d set out to achieve, undoing the wrong that had been done because of her. It was amazing that she could hurt so badly and yet be so dizzyingly happy at the same time. So, this was what it was to love, what she’d been missing out on with her oh-so-busy life. Maybe she could find it again, and this time with someone more available.

  When the cheering and applause eventually dimmed somewhat, Tallulah broke the spell by stepping up and saying, “This is all lovely, but the fact remains that a queen needs to be crowned here today so we may all kneel before her.”

  Michael and Jen broke apart enough to turn to stare at Tallulah, he in alarm, she in confusion. She glanced at Niall, as if asking for direction. Michael might have restored her to herself and made it possible for her to choose to leave the Realm, but Niall still seemed to have some hold over her. Surely he wouldn’t be crazy enough to make her put on a crown that would kill her, or did he have something else up his sleeve? Sophie couldn’t take the chance.

  Removing her invisibility glamour, she let her full royal glory show as she rose to her feet. Jen gasped and put a hand to her mouth, Tallulah smiled wickedly, Niall and Orla glared daggers, and the other rulers looked relieved. The crowd close to the dais reacted with a rumble of noise that was difficult to judge, but Sophie was most focused on Michael’s face. His relief at seeing that she really was alive was almost palpable, and he gave every sign of rushing to hug her. But then a voice from the crowd cried out, “She’s an impostor!”

  Sophie followed the sound and saw her grandmother moving through the crowd. Nana didn’t seem to be able to see Sophie from where she was, so Sophie suspected she was talking about Jen and didn’t know Sophie had revealed herself. But to much of the audience, it looked like she was accusing Sophie of being the fake. Before Sophie could think of a way to salvage the situation, the doors at the back of the throne room flew open with a resounding bang and a radiant figure on a white horse entered, calling out, “This queen is an impostor!”

  Thirty-eight

  Outside the Palace

  Meanwhile

  Emily wasn’t sure where the free fae managed to scare up horses or if they even had. She didn’t want to think about the possibility that she might be riding an illusion. It felt real enough. Fortunately, she didn’t feel the clothes she could see herself wearing because they looked pretty uncomfortable. She’d spent a summer in college playing a member of the royal court at a Renaissance festival, and she had a feeling that the heavy, jewel-encrusted brocade she appeared to be wearing would be even worse than full Tudor garb in July.

  But she knew that when you’re riding into a palace at the head of an army, you’ve got to make the right impression, so she’d had Eamon give her the full treatment. She wondered if the camera on her phone would capture the reality or the glamour. It would be fun to have a picture of this.

  The reaction of the gathered population of the Realm as she rode down the hill was everything she’d hoped it would be. They didn’t know that the queen was inside the palace already, so the richly attired woman surrounded by armored knights arriving at the palace must have made total sense to them.

  She raised a regal hand to quiet the cheers that rose as she entered the grounds. “Thank you, my people!” she called out. “It does my heart great good to see you all here. But you should know that I didn’t call you to this place. The so-called queen within the palace is an impostor. Will you support me in claiming my throne from her?”

  Their roar was very satisfying. Emily couldn’t help but smile. Then she remembered that her sister, the true queen, was also inside the palace, and she had no idea what Sophie might be up to. As she kicked her horse into motion to head toward the palace doors, she decided that adding confusion to the situation should help in the short term, since Sophie could definitively prove her right to the throne.

  Two of her soldiers went ahead to open the great palace doors, and she rode straight into the throne room. I have got to do a fantasy movie, she thought to herself as she forced herself not to grin like an idiot about living out this scenario. She wasn’t sure if it was happy accident or more of Eamon’s handiwork when a beam of light hit her just so, right as she dramatically declared, “This queen is an impostor!”

  She kept riding forward, the stunned attendees clearing the way, and she had to fight not to wince when she saw Sophie standing at the foot of the dais in full queen mode, with Jen on the dais and still in her regalia. And not too far away was Nana, looking like a redheaded Queen Elizabeth II in her suit and hat. Oops. Now everyone was going to wonder which queen she meant was the impostor.

  Michael, who looked utterly exhausted, stood with his arm around Jen, which meant at least something had gone well—for Michael. Emily glanced at her sister. No one else would have noticed anything was wrong, but Emily knew Sophie well enough to know that her heart was breaking in two. Emily shook her head fondly. Only Sophie would be so noble as to put herself at risk to help the man she loved get back together with his long-lost wife. No wonder she was still single.

  Jen’s eyes clouded again and she pulled away from Michael. “She is the impostor!” She pointed straight at Emily.

  “Am I?” Emily asked. “What about her?” She pointed at her grandmother. “Or her?” She turned to indicate her sister.

  Jen looked from Nana to Sophie, and she looked confused. She shook her head and blinked, like she was trying to clear the cobwebs. “I’m not really the queen, either,” Jen called out, raising her voice so it would be heard throughout the throne room. “She’s the real queen.” She pointed at Sophie. “The crown belongs to her.”

  Niall lost all his suave cool at that. “What did I tell you?” he snarled as he rushed toward Jen and Michael. A blade appeared in his hand, and he brought it down on Jen. Or where Jen would have been if Michael hadn’t gotten in the way.

  Emily, Jen, and Sophie all cried out at once, and Emily thought she heard other voices. Jen caught Michael as he fell, and Emily saw a flash of metal as Sophie picked up a sword from the ground and ran it through Niall in one fluid movement. Orla lunged toward her husband, but was tackled by the other fairy rulers.

  Emily wasn’t sure what it looked like when a fairy died. They were essentially immortal, so they didn’t age or get sick, but supposedly they could be
killed. Niall just vanished, along with the sword sticking through his body. Was that a fairy death, or had something else happened?

  But that wasn’t Emily’s main concern at the moment. She jumped off her horse and ran toward where Jen cradled Michael on the steps of the dais. Sophie was already sitting beside them, and Eamon, Amelia, Athena, Nana, and Beau weren’t far behind.

  Jen searched her husband for wounds. “I don’t understand. There should be blood, shouldn’t there? But he’s unconscious, and so pale.” She stroked his face. “Michael, please, wake up. I’m sorry, so, so sorry. This is all my fault.”

  “No, it’s not,” Sophie told her, a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “You got caught up in something far bigger than you know.”

  Emily knelt by her sister and squeezed her hand in silent support. Sophie was holding it together pretty well, but Emily could tell she was on the verge of snapping. “What is it, Soph? Is there something you need me to do?” Emily asked.

  “I think it was a magical weapon,” Sophie said, freeing her hand from Emily’s after a quick squeeze so she could examine Michael. “No blood, but maybe a curse. He was hit earlier with something similar, so maybe this triggered that spell to make it worse.”

  “Can you break it?” Jen asked tearfully.

  “I don’t know. But you may be able to,” Sophie replied.

  “How?”

  “We’re in a fairy tale, and he just won your freedom. Kiss him.”

  In spite of the magnitude of the situation, Jen raised a skeptical eyebrow, like she thought Sophie had to be joking. “Kiss him?”

  “You’re in the fairy world and your husband is under a curse,” Sophie shot back. “Haven’t you ever seen a Disney movie? If it doesn’t work, I’ll think of something else.”

  “We’re working on it,” Amelia called out from where she and Athena were digging through their bags and arguing softly with each other. Beau waddled over and plopped down against Michael’s legs, nudging him with his nose. Emily figured he’d make a good plan B. She was sure the dog was awfully fond of Michael. His wife was probably a better candidate for a loving kiss, though. Emily had to admit that it would also be interesting to see if Sophie could save him. She certainly loved him enough, but that would open up a whole can of worms and maybe inspire a soap opera or two.