The Fiend Queen

by Barbara Ann Wright

  “She’s too powerful a weapon,” Castelle said.

  “We can’t let her transform again if we can help it,” Katya said. Still, Castelle was right. And Ma had been right about her presence attracting the wild Fiends’ attention. Katya had been able to keep the Fiend from harming her friends, but once the pyramid was destroyed, it had gone straight to the only other Fiend in the room. “You said the wild Fiend didn’t want to be cleansed, Redtrue. What did you mean? How can a pure Fiend be cleansed?”

  “With its Fiendness stripped away,” Castelle asked, “wouldn’t it be nothing?”

  Redtrue frowned hard. “The energy I felt from that pyramid was akin to the Fiends. Since the one who grabbed your leg fled once the pyramid was destroyed, I think it was calling them. The question is, why was the pyramid affecting me so?”

  “Because of your purity,” Castelle said.

  Katya rolled her eyes and caught Redtrue doing the same. “Now that you’re well,” Katya said, “can you sense any other pyramids nearby?”

  Redtrue took another pyramid from her bag and focused. After a moment, she nodded.

  As much as Katya craved rest, she knew they couldn’t linger. The fight would still be raging in the city, and she didn’t know when Roland might return. Of course, with Redtrue free from her affliction, Katya thought their odds against Roland were pretty good. Redtrue seemed to have a knack for overcoming Fiend energy. As Katya tried to wake her mother, she hoped that Roland would come back soon. Maybe they could end the fight sooner than anyone thought.

  It usually took an hour to recover from turning into a Fiend, but Katya shook her mother gently, trying to hasten the process. She began to think that leaving Ma with Jacintha was the only cause left to them when her mother blinked and tried to open her eyes.

  “Oh,” Ma said as she struggled upright, “my head.”

  In the past, Katya had awakened from her Aspect feeling tired but never with the fatigue on her mother’s face. Powerful weapon or not, could they risk her transforming again? Would they even be able to wake her?

  “I trust we got what we were looking for?” Ma asked.

  Katya told her of the battle.

  “I don’t remember any of that, but I’m glad I was useful.” She climbed shakily to her feet. “What’s next?”

  Katya hesitated, afraid that if she suggested her mother stay behind, she’d be in line for a scolding. And if her mother wanted to risk her life, who was Katya to say no? It was just a question of putting one more person she loved in danger.

  Ma glanced up, and something in Katya’s face must have betrayed her thoughts. “You want me to stay behind.” There was no hurt in her words, just a statement of fact.

  “If you turn into a Fiend again…”

  “I feel the difference now compared to before,” Ma said. “But I still might be able to distract any wild Fiends while remaining human.”

  “I can do that, too.”

  “Let me distract. You do the stabbing.”

  It was a good argument, but Katya couldn’t quite give her blessing.

  “You are the leader here,” Ma said. “If you order me to stay behind, if you think I’ve done as much as I can, I’ll stay.”

  Her own mother taking her orders; it boggled the mind. But in the end, it wasn’t a question of safety and danger. Nowhere in the palace was safe. “No, you come with us.”

  Ma squeezed Katya’s arm. “I had every faith that you were as brilliant as I thought.”

  Katya barked a laugh, and when they piled into the hallway again, her heart was a little lighter.

  They found another of Roland’s hypnosis pyramids on the floor above them. Redtrue cleansed it through the wall. Katya’s earlier excitement came rushing back, even with all they’d suffered. The faster they could cleanse these pyramids, the faster they could regroup with Starbride and then the army outside the walls of Marienne.

  As soon as they’d disabled the pyramid, they moved on, taking the secret passageways when they could and sneaking past any guards. In the halls, Katya kept everyone close to the walls, ready to dive for cover. When they reached one of the grand staircases that spiraled up into the third floor, Katya took the lead as they climbed single file along the outer wall. Long tapestries hung almost to the floor as they ascended the staircase, each suspended by ropes tied to hooks hidden behind the black iron rail. Castelle kept her blade out; Redtrue held her pyramid. Ma clutched her long knife, but her other hand hovered in front of her chest, ready to remove her pyramid necklace.

  Katya caught a hint of movement above them, just around the curve. “Down!” she whispered.

  The air whooshed above her head, and an arrow thunked into a tapestry where her head had been.

  “Back, back!” Katya said. They scuttled down the stairs and moved to the inner rail where the archer would have to move closer to see them.

  The arrow didn’t bear Averie’s signature green fletching, but it had to be her. Katya lamented again that the adsnazi didn’t use destructive magic and that she hadn’t brought Pennynail.

  Averie didn’t call down the stairs. Mind-warped into a killer for Roland, she had no use for taunts. And she held the high ground. Katya could picture her waiting, bowstring half drawn, ready to pull at the first sight of them. They could find another way up, Katya supposed, circle back down, then cross over several hallways, and up another staircase.

  And then Averie would know they had gone and would wait for them at another point. She could call for more guards. Time was on her side.

  “Follow close behind me,” Katya said in Redtrue’s ear. “When I give the word, throw a pyramid.”

  Redtrue balked. “I do not use—”

  “Any damned pyramid! It doesn’t matter what it does.”

  Redtrue frowned but stayed on Katya’s heels as they tiptoed up the stairs, just at the edge of the well-worn carpet.

  When Katya saw a shadow ahead, she crouched. “Now.”

  Redtrue’s pyramid sailed upward, and Katya raced behind it, hoping Averie’s instincts weren’t completely lost. Averie leapt out of the pyramid’s path. The crystal smashed harmlessly on the wall.

  Averie managed to fire an arrow, though only at a quarter draw. It clipped the leather at Katya’s shoulder, but she pushed through, swinging as she came, trying to catch Averie on one knee. Averie blocked with her bow and launched backward, into the steps, using the incline to push herself up.

  A man in chainmail darted around her and swung at Katya. She ducked out of the way and then leapt for Averie as Castelle barreled into the chain man.

  Katya drove her rapier into Averie’s thigh. Her face creased in pain, but she jerked her leg clear. Averie thrust inside her coat pocket and dragged forth a pyramid to drop at Katya’s feet.

  Katya leapt backward, hoping she wouldn’t be caught by her own trick. “Look out!” Her foot snagged the carpet, and she slipped. Redtrue caught her arm before she could roll down the steps. Fire roared to life on the carpeted staircase, catching one tapestry alight and giving Averie time to scamper upward, the flames between them. She nocked another arrow.

  Castelle and the chain man were caught on Katya’s side of the fire. Katya dragged Redtrue behind the two, and Averie’s arrow thudded into the back of her own man. He yowled in pain, and Castelle took him through the neck. Katya helped hold his body like a shield, but they couldn’t walk him through the flames.

  When Averie’s next arrow clipped Redtrue’s sleeve, she ducked, cursing. Beyond the crackle of flames, Katya thought she heard the clatter of more feet on the stairs.

  “We have to rush her or retreat,” Castelle said.

  “Push the body toward her on my mark.” Before Katya could give the order, the flaming tapestry above Averie’s head dropped like a wet blanket, engulfing her in pounds of burning fabric. Katya looked to where Ma still held the frayed end of the rope.

  “Castelle, cover my back!” Katya dropped the body and ran through the patch of burning carpet. She k
icked at the struggling lump under the tapestry. Steel rang behind her, and Katya looked long enough to see Castelle fighting a woman in boiled leather. The howl of a corpse Fiend came from above, but as soon as it rounded the corner, Redtrue’s pyramid flared, turning it into an empty puppet. The lifeless body rolled down the stairs.

  Ma joined Katya, and they put the fire out by beating at the flames and at Averie still struggling inside the tapestry. Soon the fire was just a smolder, and the lump an unmoving, smoking hulk. Castelle had beaten the guard, but not without a jagged wound down the side of her face. Redtrue pressed a bandage to Castelle’s cheek and forehead, trying to staunch the bleeding.

  Ma pulled the tapestry aside while Katya waited with a ready blade. Averie still breathed, her nose bloody, face bruised, and hair and clothes burnt and blistered. Her bow had been broken across her body, and one of her arms lay unevenly beneath her.

  Tears came unbidden to Katya’s eyes. In sleep, Averie was still the lady-in-waiting who’d served her faithfully for many years, the hunter who’d supplied game for her hunting princess persona, and the dear friend and confidante who’d helped her through her darkest, loneliest moments. Katya couldn’t hold in a sob as she sank down at Averie’s side.

  “Jewel of my heart,” she said, the absurd nickname she’d given Averie so long ago. They’d never been lovers, never would have been, but Averie had been so constant and loving yet respectful of the distance that had to remain between them.

  Lost in desperation, Katya looked to Redtrue. “Can you do anything for her?”

  “Not unless she needs a bandage,” Redtrue said as she tied a cloth around Castelle’s head. “And I know she was once your friend, but should we even think of healing her now that she is your enemy?”

  “Roland poisoned her mind. Can you cleanse her?”

  “There is no pyramid to cleanse.”

  Katya was tempted to ask if Redtrue could undo the mind magic, but of course she couldn’t; she wouldn’t even if she were able. And Starbride had already told them that there was nothing of Averie to reclaim. Roland hollowed out some of his puppets, those he found most useful, and left nothing but what he wanted in their places. Averie hadn’t been hypnotized; she’d been remade.

  “Katya, we have to go,” Castelle said.

  Given time, Averie would recover and dog their steps again. She wouldn’t stop until she was killed. Katya pictured the pained expression of shock on Averie’s face as Katya’s blade sank into her heart. A look like that would live with her forever. But if they captured her, she’d be executed eventually, and Katya bet that however she went to her grave—stoically quiet or cursing their names—she wouldn’t bear the peaceful expression she wore in sleep.

  Katya kissed Averie’s soot-stained forehead. “You died long ago, jewel of my heart, in a battle bravely fought. Whatever awaits us after death, I hope you find peace, with no ungrateful royalty bossing you about.” Katya smoothed the hair from Averie’s cheeks, curled a hand around her chin, and pinched her nose and mouth shut.

  Ma gasped, but no one spoke. There were faster ways to kill someone, but Katya couldn’t bear the thought of slitting Averie’s throat. She remembered Crowe telling her that he had killed Roland in nearly this same fashion. Of course, if Crowe had slit Roland’s throat, Katya suspected that even the Fiend couldn’t have saved him.

  Crowe would have agreed, but he still would have said something like, “If we must kill those we love, best we do it softly.”

  Averie shuddered once, and then she was gone, her eyes not even opening before the end.

  Chapter Six

  Starbride

  Hugo lay unconscious at Starbride’s feet. It had taken Scarra, Freddie, and Starbride’s Fiend suppression pyramid to subdue him, and even then he’d managed to claw Scarra’s arm. One of Ursula’s men gave her a bandage as Starbride tried to field a hundred questions at once.

  Luckily, the pack of Docklanders who’d charged their position included Prince Reinholt and Maia, two people well versed in keeping Fiendish natures secret.

  “Did the Fiend king do that to him?” one of the Docklanders asked, gesturing toward Hugo.

  “No doubt,” Reinholt said in a drawl eerily reminiscent of Katya. Either he’d been taking lessons from his sister, or she’d based some of her court persona on him. He made some joke about Hugo’s Fiendish nature not helping with the ladies, and a few of his followers laughed.

  Those who didn’t looked to Maia, but she waved their questions away as, “Something to worry about later.”

  “Let’s hope none of these people have long memories,” Ursula said in Starbride’s ear. “Pretty soon there won’t be a war to put off their questions.”

  “I like your confidence, Captain.”

  Ursula’s light touch on Starbride’s shoulder turned her around. “I won’t be put off, either. Freddie Ballantine will be gone from here after the dust settles, or he’ll be a guest of the city Watch.”

  Starbride sighed. “You’re talking about events that happened ten years ago.”

  “Crimes don’t just vanish, Princess Consort. Those who died don’t disappear from memory.”

  “But he wasn’t the Butcher!” Starbride was louder than she planned, and several of the Docklanders glanced her way. Freddie had faded to the background, not wanting to be recognized by anyone from his old haunting ground.

  Ursula barked a laugh, but it had no humor in it. “There were more deaths than just those killed by the Butcher. I meant what I said. If he’s still here when the fight is done, he belongs to me. Form up!” Her squad piled around her, and Ursula led them off in another direction.

  “What was that about?” Maia asked.

  “Dawn,” Starbride said, “will you keep the Docklanders occupied?”

  When Dawnmother nodded, Starbride gestured for Maia and Reinholt to join her out of earshot of the others. Several of the Dockland group catcalled to Reinholt about keeping all the women to himself. He just shrugged as if it couldn’t be helped. Scarra joined them and helped move Hugo to the side of the street.

  “Having fun?” Starbride asked Reinholt.

  “Can I help it if they love me?” He’d dressed all in black with his coat undone at the neck, the black prince in repose. His dark blond hair was untidy, but his smiling blue eyes and the shadow of stubble on his cheeks were more in line with hard partying than hard living. He’d taken to the disgraced noble persona like an old horse put to pasture.

  Starbride just kept from rolling her eyes. She had asked him to win the Docklanders over. She couldn’t mock him for doing as he was told.

  “What was the captain upset about?” Maia asked again, too accustomed to deflecting questions to have her own dismissed. Color had returned to her once pale face, and she looked much healthier than when they’d first freed her. She’d managed to put on a little weight, or maybe it was just her heavy coat that made her bulky. As a Fiend, she’d been painfully thin.

  “It’s about me,” a voice said over Starbride’s shoulder. Freddie emerged from the shadows of a ruined storefront, managing to keep his back to the Docklanders.

  Reinholt blinked at him, but Maia looked him up and down, frowning hard at his leather outfit and the knives sheathed about his person. “Pennynail?”

  “I’m glad to see you up and around.” He dipped his head. “And to finally speak to you at last.”

  “You’re different than I pictured,” she said.

  “Bit more red in my cheeks?” He held his palms to his face as if blushing, reminding Starbride so much of his pantomimes as the masked Pennynail that she grinned.

  Maia did, too. “I thought you must be horrifically ugly.”

  “Thanks.”

  She put a fist on her hip. “But you’re not, I was about to say. You do have a scratchy voice.”

  “Again, thanks.”

  “But,” she said with a laugh, “that’s not a good enough reason to cover your face and never speak, so why did you?”

>   “I know you,” Reinholt said. He pointed to the scar around Freddie’s neck. “You’re a criminal.”

  Freddie turned his nose up. “I’m the criminal.”

  “What do you mean, what criminal?” Maia asked.

  “Dear little Maia,” Freddie said, “I’m glad you never had the stomach for horror stories.”

  Reinholt took Maia’s arm and made her retreat a step. “You’re that murderer.”

  “Which murderer?” Maia asked, looking back and forth between them.

  “I’d never hurt you,” Freddie said to her.

  Reinholt sneered. “What’s that worth, the word of a killer?”

  Freddie gave him an up and down glance. “I wasn’t speaking to you.”

  “Enough,” Starbride said. “The short of it is this: people were murdered years ago in Dockland. Freddie took the blame. They tried to hang him; Crowe rescued him. The real murderer died, but Freddie was never exonerated. Yes?”

  “Couldn’t have said it better myself,” he said.

  “So, you didn’t murder anyone?” Maia asked.

  “No,” Freddie said just as Reinholt muttered, “Probably.”

  They exchanged glares, and Starbride had to wonder how much animosity was from Reinholt’s remembrances of the Butcher and how much was for how he’d been treated by Pennynail while in Starbride’s care.

  Maia wriggled out of Reinholt’s grasp and stepped forward to peer into Freddie’s face. She put her hands up, covering his features from her perspective. “Seems like the same old Pennynail to me.”

  He grinned so hard it was like the sun had come out, and when he turned away from Maia, Starbride thought she saw tears in his eyes.

  “You might be a tad better looking with the mask,” Maia said.

  He gave her a tickle. “You ought to wear it all the time, then, if you think so much of it!” He pulled it out of his belt and tried to put it on her head, but she danced out of the way.

  “I don’t see what the fuss is about,” Scarra said. “No matter his past, he’s covering our asses now.”