Wandering Queen (Lost Fae Book 1)

by May Dawson

  Faer turned his gaze to Ander. Ander’s face was stony, although he’d gone pale under his freckles. He must have known this would be the outcome.

  “My sister Alisa requested mercy for this boy,” Faer said, his voice dry. “She thought it would trouble our autumn court friends to punish him so harshly.”

  I had a feeling Alisa might have been troubled that this boy had never even spoken in his own defense. When her lips pressed together tightly, I knew she was debating her next move.

  Faer’s gaze skipped right over me to Azrael. He lived to punish Azrael.

  Maybe he didn’t care about me, but what he did to Azrael hurt me just as much, because I had to watch my brother suffer.

  “Do you care, autumn princes?” Faer asked Azrael. “Does it matter to you if this traitor burns or if I consign him to the dungeon?”

  If he was sent to the dungeon, then we’d be able to release him once we wrestled the throne from Faer’s hands.

  Azrael began calmly, “If you were to show mercy, it would—”

  Faer shook his head, and Azrael fell silent, his jaw tight. Faer wanted Azrael to admit how much it mattered to him.

  Faer wanted him to beg, and I wanted to bury a blade in Faer’s throat.

  “Come here,” Faer beckoned him forward. “Stand next to your lord. This is one of your subjects, is he not?”

  “Yes,” Azrael ground out.

  Azrael started to move forward, but he stopped me from following him with a look. Faer didn’t care about me; Azrael was always the one that Faer bullied mercilessly.

  Faer didn’t even seem to notice me. His eyes glinted with satisfaction as Azrael walked up the long aisle toward the open space in front of the dais.

  I’d asked Azrael before what he’d done to piss Faer off so much. He always had a glib answer. But I had a feeling Faer hated Azrael so much for being everything he was not. Azrael was respected by the knights and even by his enemies. He was stoic, tough and calculating despite Faer’s every attempt to grind him under the heel of his jeweled slipper.

  Faer could chain Azrael’s hands—as he did when he threatened him with Zora—but he could never truly cow Azrael. Faer hated him for that.

  Azrael reached Ander, who kneeled in chains. Ander glanced up at him, his eyes wide, but Azrael never looked at him. His gaze was focused on Faer.

  The less Azrael betrayed any personal connection to Ander, the more likely it was Faer would grow bored with this game.

  “Why should I let him live?” Faer asked Azrael. “The evidence seems damning. He’s been stealing from the summer court, despising my court’s generosity welcoming nobles of other courts.”

  There was a soft ripple of laughter around the room from Faer’s lackeys, and Faer smiled, encouraged. I gritted my teeth. We certainly despised the court’s generosity, but we were trapped here.

  “He’s young,” Azrael said. “A good knight. He might have made poor choices but he can redeem himself in the Rift, fighting for all the courts.”

  “We need more bodies at the Rift,” Alisa said to Azrael, her voice cool. “Why not use the knight and show mercy to our allies?”

  Faer glanced at her, a slow smile spreading across his face. “How practical you are, Alisa.”

  I relaxed slightly—Alisa somehow wielded more influence over Faer than I would have expected—until Faer turned his full attention to Azrael. “Is that you want, Azrael? The life of your autumn court subject?”

  “Yes, your Majesty.” Azrael’s voice was flat.

  “Then make your own appeal for his life,” Faer said. “My sister has humbled herself to offer a favor to you, prince of fall, and you haven’t even shown much interest in that favor.”

  Alisa glanced at Faer, and I willed her to stay silent. She’d pushed Faer into a position that might be dangerous for us all.

  “If you want his life…” Faer smiled, revealing his mouthful of pointed teeth, “then humble yourself too.”

  For a long second, Azrael faced him, his back rigid and straight as his sword.

  Then Azrael went down to his knees. Faer’s smile widened.

  “Please, spare his life, your majesty.” Azrael said, his voice level. He didn’t even grind the words out the way I knew I would.

  Laughter rippled through the court. Across from us, some of the knights were watching, but none of them were laughing. Cora, Luca, Dere, they all stood there with cold, disapproving faces.

  They should really be careful. Faer’s friends would be watching the faces in the crowd, noticing who didn’t seem loyal.

  “Very well,” Faer said. “Since it means so much to you, Azrael. Take him to the Rift. Let him make himself useful before he dies.”

  He waved his hand and began to rise.

  “That’s all,” the courtier said. “No more pleas or grievances today.”

  Then someone broke loose from the crowd of common Fae. “I have a grievance, and I will be heard,” he called.

  A blade flashed in his hand as he ran up the steps.

  I was already moving to intercept him as the guards closed ranks around the thrones.

  Still the man with the blade moved toward Faer.

  No, toward Alisa.

  I ran toward him, weaving through the Fae who milled in excitement or curiosity.

  But Azrael was closest. Azrael tackled him, knocking him down onto the marble just as his foot reached the bottom step of the dais.

  The Fae was screaming about how Alisa had ruined the autumn court. Over the chatter of the crowd and the sight of Faer’s guards rushing him away, through a hidden passage, the male shouted names. The names of those he’d lost.

  Right before Azrael drove his knife into his chest, silencing him. For a second, the would-be assassin stared at Azrael, wide-eyed. He’d been killed by his own prince. Then his head fell slack against the marble floor.

  Faer would have had worse ways of killing him for daring to attack his sister.

  “Clear the room,” Tiron yelled behind me. The guards were trying to hustle Alisa and Faer out through the side door that led away from the dais. Faer was already gone.

  But Alisa stood on the dais, her face white, her eyes wide.

  At first, I thought she was terrified.

  And then I understood that the look on her face was horror.

  For what Azrael had done.

  Or for what she’d done so long ago that started all of this.

  Chapter Fifty-One

  Tiron

  “Princess, we need to get you out of here.” I glanced over my shoulder at Azrael. His face was horrified, mirroring hers, as if he was troubled by her emotions in a way that the simple act of killing never bothered him.

  He cared about every one of his subjects. But he was from the autumn court, and autumn is a killing season, after all.

  She ignored the guards who were trying to herd her out to safety, but when I scooped her off her feet and lifted her in my arms, she let me carry her. I rushed with her down the hallways and back to her room.

  Duncan had beaten us here.

  “The room is clear,” he said, right before I rushed in with her. He glanced behind me down the hall. “Where is Azrael?”

  “Probably still cleaning up.”

  “Who was that?” Alisa asked.

  “One of the autumn court’s refugees,” I told her.

  Duncan growled, but there was sympathy in the sound. “He’ll pay for that later.”

  I wasn’t sure who suffered more from Azrael’s nightmares—Azrael himself, or Duncan, who couldn’t help him.

  “What happened?” Alisa said as I sat with her on one of her couches. She tried to move away, but it was a desultory move, and when I kept holding her, she rested her head on my shoulder. Her slender body shook against mine, no matter how tough she tried to be. “I know what I saw. But—what really happened? The Fae from the autumn court—”

  “Had no right to try to murder you,” Duncan finished the sentence for her as he moved to
the bar. “Relax. We’ll protect you.”

  “Because it’s your job.” Her voice carried a mocking barb, no matter how upset she was now.

  “Yes.” Duncan knelt next to us, offering her a cup. “Drink this. It’ll take away some of your shakiness.”

  “I’m not shaky,” she said, even though her fingers trembled as she wrapped them around the goblet. “I’ve killed so many monsters before, to see one person killed in front of me—”

  “But that male wasn’t a monster,” Duncan said simply.

  She bit her lower lip hard. “He would’ve killed me.”

  She was obviously struggling to reconcile not a monster and person who wished her dead.

  “We wouldn’t let that happen.” I pushed her hand that held her goblet toward her lips, urging her to take a sip. “You’re all right.”

  “No, I’m not.” She shook her head. “Tell me what I did. Tell me everything. No more secrets, no more waiting for the caves.”

  “You won’t want to hear it from us,” Duncan said, his voice harsh. “You won’t believe us.”

  “Then we go to the caves,” she said. “We leave now. As soon as we can get ready.”

  “You’ve lost your mind,” Duncan said. “Faer hasn’t given his permission for us to go, and we are his knights, as much as that pisses me off—”

  “How do I make you mine?” she demanded.

  “Excuse me?” he asked.

  She pulled a face, as if she realized how awkward the question was. “I’m just as much royalty as he is. How do I make you my knights instead of his?”

  She was already coming back to life, color returning to her cheeks. She still lay against my shoulder, and I traced shapes across her back absently, first toying over the laces of her corset, then finding her bare skin above it. She relaxed into my touch.

  Princess Alisa was always more comfortable when she was scheming.

  A few minutes later, there was a knock at the door, and Azrael called through it, “I’m here with the prince. All’s well for now, it seems.”

  Duncan moved to the door and swung it open cautiously.

  Faer and Azrael entered, and Faer’s knowing, cunning eyes found Alisa in my lap.

  I expected her to move away, embarrassed, but she kicked off her slippers and drew her feet up onto the couch.

  “Brother,” she greeted him, “I’m glad you weren’t harmed.”

  “I’m glad you weren’t harmed,” he said, sitting on the couch by her feet. “Were you very scared?”

  She shook her head, her lips quirking.

  “I heard you froze.”

  Her lips tightened. She didn’t like that. But then she said, “Yes. I suppose I did.”

  She hadn’t been willing to leave not because she was afraid, but because she wanted to understand what was happening. I knew that. But she went on, “I didn’t realize anyone would want to kill me.”

  “The crown’s heavy.” His gaze was kind, affectionate. He was such a good liar. “You’ll be safe with Raile. No one can touch him in the undersea. That’s why I want so badly for you to go with him.”

  “Maybe.” She bit her plush lower lip. “Until then, may I ask you a favor?”

  “Of course,” he said.

  “I feel safe with the three of them,” she said, glancing around the room at Azrael, at Duncan, and then at me. My lips arched in a smile, a flush of pride, despite the fact I knew she was playing Faer. “Promise me I can keep these knights until—if—I go with Raile?”

  “They’re yours,” Faer promised lightly.

  “Good,” she said, exhaling slowly. “That makes me feel so much better.”

  Azrael was frowning, but he gave nothing away until Faer had finished ‘comforting’ his sister and left again.

  As soon as the door had closed and Faer was gone, Azrael hissed, “What kind of game are you playing now, Alisa?”

  “We’re going to the caves,” she said. “Tonight. Once I have my memories back, I can help you protect Zora and Ander and all the others.”

  She sounded sure, confident, and Azrael parted his lips to argue with her. Had she defended Ander because she was genuinely moved by his imminent execution? Or to show us what she was capable of?

  Then she added, “I can’t bear another day without answers. Without knowing what I’ve done.”

  I saw Azrael stumble in his feelings, no matter how solid and sure of himself he looked in front of her.

  “Faer said we are hers,” Duncan pointed out.

  Azrael studied his brother. His face was a mask, as it so often was. The two of them looked identical.

  Then Duncan pulled a face. He’d accidentally revealed he cared about her well-being. No matter what he claimed.

  “I heard an interesting thing from Faer,” Azrael said slowly. “About Princess Alisa’s fighting prowess. Apparently she’s helpless as a kitten. Can barely grip a sword in her dainty paws.”

  “Mm.” Duncan said briefly. “And I overheard you teaching Princess Alisa about the laws regarding marriage. We both hear such interesting things.”

  Both of them, in their own ways, were trying to help her.

  But both of them would pretend they had no interest in doing so.

  Fae psychopaths.

  I loved them anyway.

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  Azrael

  Six Years Earlier

  I hadn’t seen Alisa in a year. She’d vanished when she left the academy, and some stupid, wayward part of me had hoped at first she’d run away to the autumn court.

  Even though that would have plunged our kingdoms into war.

  I’d spend the last year longing for Alisa, wanting her even if it cost blood, wanting her no matter who I’d have to slaughter to take her hand.

  But I’d received brief letters from her—nothing more than a few sentences telling me that our relationship was over, with no secret message or a code contained inside—and then nothing.

  I’d been thrilled when I received an invitation to Herrick’s latest party—in celebration of Alisa’s birthday.

  Even though Duncan had shaken his head at me and inssited that I was being led off to my death by my cock.

  I’d told him that my cock had never done me that wrong before.

  I’d been so eager to see Alisa. And now the band played cheerfully, and she was laughing by the table laden with summer wine and strawberries, with another male.

  Duncan shook his head slowly. No matter how much he’d told me that I was going to get myself killed, he’d still come along with me.

  I wasn’t sure if he wanted to protect me or mock me. Probably both.

  “Does she know I’m here?” I said, already knowing I wouldn’t enjoy Duncan’s response. My fingers had tightened on the crystal glass I held until it might shatter.

  “I get the distinct impression she doesn’t care.” Duncan caught the sleeve of a passing water to lift a cup of wine from the tray, even though it surely belonged to someone else, as if he needed that to bear the drama that was Alisa-and-me.

  “To girls who don’t give a shit about you,” Duncan said, raising his glass as if it were a toast, then clinking his drink against mine. “You found the one-and-only female who appears to be completely unimpressed with you.”

  “She didn’t seem unimpressed when I was— why the hell am I talking to you, anyway?” I broke off.

  Duncan was a very helpful friend to have in your corner if you needed to kill someone or hide the body after. If you wanted to talk about feelings, well, the aforementioned corpse would be more empathetic.

  I handed him my glass, and he took it automatically, then gave me a scornful look.

  “I’m going to talk to her.”

  “Good luck,” he said, with a nasty smile.

  I had started to walk away, but I stopped and turned back. The mean edge in his smile had told me he was feeling something. Duncan hated feeling things. “How much did you get to know Alisa at the academy?”

  “Fa
er?” He made air quotes when he said the name, then shrugged. “A bit. Pompous little prick.”

  “Mm. And you’re a big pompous prick, I can see the conflict.” I tilted my head, studying him. His face was impassive, but under my gaze, he shifted, rolling his eyes. I accused, “You’re jealous.”

  He huffed a laugh. “Of you and Alisa? Hardly.”

  “If you two care for each other,” I said, my own heart beating faster with jealousy now even though for all I knew, he had an unrequired crush, “we can figure something out. We’re all adults.”

  I would never want to lose these two people who meant the most to me in the world. Duncan and Alisa and I…we could make it work, if she chose us both.

  “She doesn’t care for anyone,” Duncan assured me, “so your generosity is unnecessary. Go on. Talk to her.” He waved me off.

  I turned to head toward Alisa, but the space where she’d stood drinking wine was empty. A bright, happy reel was playing, and she danced by me, held in another man’s arms.

  I tracked her across the dancing floor, trying to pull her away, but she was always in someone else’s arms, always one step ahead of me. Her lavender hair flew as she spun on the dance floor, mirroring her silver-embroidered skirts fanning out across the dance floor. She was smiling, laughing, and never looked in my direction.

  She was avoiding me. The realization settled like a weight in my chest.

  “I’ve heard,” Duncan drawled, his voice irritatingly near my ear; he’d managed to sneak up on me while I was focused on Alisa, and he was probably amused by that, “Herrick forbade Alisa to ever see you again.”

  “It’s not like her to ever listen to anyone.”

  He put his hand on my shoulder, as if he were about to say something comforting. Then he said, “She must have decided you weren’t worth it.”

  I shrugged his hand off and turned to face him. “Is that what happened between the two of you?”

  He gave me that blank-faced look, but I had a feeling I’d struck close to the truth. “Someday you’ll have to tell me what happened.”

  He scoffed. “Nothing to tell.”