Queen of Hearts (The Risen King)

by Samantha Warren

  A small whimper inside stopped him in his tracks. He tested the latch on the door and it popped open. “Guinevere?” he whispered as he poked his head into the dark room. Silence greeted him. He pushed the door open further to let the light from the hall highlight the shadows. “Guin?”

  The whimper came again. He followed the sound to the corner of the room. A pile of rags lay there and he frowned. The rags moved. He reached over and pulled off the blanket on top of the bundle. Red hair spilled out across the floor.

  “Aiofe!“ he cried as he fell to his knees. He pulled her to him and cradled her head in his lap. A three-inch gap on her forehead seeped blood onto the stones and clothes around her. Her freckled skin was nearly translucent and her breathing was almost non-existent.

  “Aiofe,” he said again as he brushed a mat of hair from her face. “Aiofe, wake up. What happened?” The girl groaned in his arms, but she did not wake.

  He grabbed one of the rags from the floor and pressed it to her head. Then he ripped another one into strips and bound the first in place.

  “I have to find Arthur,” he told the unconscious woman in his arms.

  Lancelot gripped Aiofe's body to him and forced himself to his feet. His head swam, but he blinked rapidly and fought through the haze. “Arthur,” he mumbled under his breath. “Have to find Arthur.” The fog in his brain swirled and balked, but he put one foot in front of the other and moved toward the door. He was almost there when a silhouette appeared before him.

  “Lance?” Guinevere's perfect face appeared in the light from the hallway. “What are you doing, darling?” Her lips were pressed together and her eyes stared at him with accusation. The fog clamped down, gripping his head so hard it hurt.

  “I... uh... Aiofe. She's hurt,” he stuttered out.

  “I see.”

  “I need to find Arthur,” he said again and the fog began to lift, just a bit.

  Guinevere crossed the short gap between them and brushed her fingers across his cheek. The fog returned in force. “You don't need to find Arthur, my dear. He doesn't care about Aiofe anymore. She's nothing to him. He wants her gone.”

  Lancelot opened his mouth to protest, but nothing came out and his jaw worked like a fish out of water. “I... I...”

  “I know you love Arthur, my darling. I know you would do anything for him.” Guinevere leaned in and kissed Lancelot on the cheek. “So why don't you help me take care of Aiofe for him? He would like that. Then he wouldn't have to decide anymore. You're doing him a favor. You're being his friend. His best friend.”

  Lancelot's head nodded slowly. He couldn't nod fast or he was sure he would fall over. “Yes, his friend. What do I do?”

  Guinevere smiled and leaned over Aiofe's body. She cupped Lancelot's head in her hands and pressed her lips to his. The fog in his head swirled and danced. Fingers of it slid into his brain like roots taking hold in the dirt.

  “You need to take Aiofe to the woods. Hide her, get rid of her so she can no longer hurt Arthur.”

  Lance nodded again. “Yes, to the woods.”

  Together, they wrapped Aiofe's body in a blanket, hiding her from the world.

  “Come, this way.” Guinevere looked out into the hall and found it still deserted. She moved in the direction opposite the stairs. Lancelot followed her like a lost puppy dog with nowhere else to go. The weight in his arms was heavy and he tried to remember why he was holding it.

  “Lancelot, this way.”

  He looked up and found Guinevere standing at a door. She opened it and he followed her out into another hall. Through a series of twists and turns, they ended up at the back of the castle, very near the woods. The small village that served to house most of the servants who did not work in the castle was off to their right a good distance away.

  “We will take her as far back as we can, away from everything. Where she won't be discovered for a very, very long time.”

  Lancelot blinked at her. “Okay.” His tongue was thick in his mouth and his head pounded. That niggling thought kept trying to break out and he kept reaching for it, only to have it slip away at the last second. What was he supposed to remember? What did he need to tell Arthur?

  “Lancelot.” Guinevere's harsh tone broke into his dazed thoughts. “Let's go.”

  “Yes, my queen.” He started plodding along into the woods as a smile grew across her face.

  “Good boy.”

  They walked deeper and deeper into the woods. The trees seemed to crowd around them the further in they went and Lancelot was convinced someone was watching them.

  “Are we being followed?” he asked as he glanced around.

  Guinevere scoffed. “Of course not. I was very careful. No one saw us.”

  Lancelot wanted to contradict her, but she was Guinevere and she was always right. He kept walking and the weight in his arms kept growing heavier and heavier.

  His gaze fell to the red hair as it flowed from the bundle. He rebalanced the weight and pulled the blanket away from her face. She still had the rag wrapped around her head, but her skin was growing ever paler. “Aiofe,” he whispered.

  “Hmm?” Guinevere asked from in front of him.

  He looked up. “Nothing, my queen.”

  Guin shot him a quick smile and continued walking. Lance looked back down at Aiofe's freckled face. Arthur loves that face, he thought. For the first time in centuries, his king had someone he truly cared about, someone who treated him well in return. They had fallen quickly, aided by the faery charm placed on the line of hunters, but Lancelot had no doubt that they would have fallen in love on their own eventually. He had hoped they could be happy together. He had hoped Arthur could build the life he should have had the first time around.

  Arthur. Lancelot's lips pressed together and the fog in his head raged. The fingers that had slipped into his brain began to shrivel and withdraw, but they fought tooth and nail for a foothold. The small thought in the back of his head grew larger, growling and slashing at the tendrils that clouded his mind. He still couldn't see it, but it was there, right there.

  The trees shifted around him. He was certain of it. As they moved ever deeper into the woods, the trees closed in behind them and around them. He could feel them, he could sense them.

  Aiofe groaned. His eyes dropped once more to the woman in his arms and something inside him snapped. He felt the fog shift and the idea roared to life.

  “Arthur,” he mumbled and his feet ground to a halt.

  It took Guinevere several steps before she realized Lancelot no longer followed her. He stood a handful of feet away from her and blinked rapidly. The fog in his brain dissipated, chased away by the thought that had finally broken free.

  “Lance...” Guinevere took a step toward him. Her hand was out and she eyed him with worry. “Lance, it's okay.”

  He tore his gaze from Aiofe and stared at her. “You,” he said. “You witch.” His accusation soared through the trees. “You faery witch. You tried to kill her!“ His cry had turned to a roar. Birds screeched and scattered overhead. Squirrels hid in their holes.

  “Lancelot, stop this at once,” she commanded and her hand reached out.

  He didn't wait for her to finish. He turned and ran toward the edge of the woods. Tendrils of fog pulled at the edges of his brain again, but he focused on the one thing that really mattered to him. Arthur. He kept Arthur's image in the forefront of his mind and surged forward as fast as he could go.

  “Arthur!“ His cries rang out over the grounds. “Arthur, I need you!“ He reached the edge of the woods and broke toward the front of the castle.

  Zela was racing toward him. “Lancelot, what's wrong?” she shouted.

  “Guinevere,” he cried. “She's a traitor.”

  “Stop!“ Guinevere's cry came from behind him, but it was much too late. She stood at the edge of the trees as he ground to a halt beside Zela. Her lips curled and she sneered at him. “You'll pay for that, Lancelot. I'll see to it that you suffer more than anyone.
” She turned and ran back into the trees.

  “Stop her,” Zela commanded as she pointed toward the trees.

  Branches snaked out from their trunks and snagged on Guinevere's clothes. A root grabbed at her boot and it jerked off. The branches tangled about her arms and torso. She screamed and screeched and fought against them, but they were more powerful than she was. They wrapped her arms and hands into wooden shackles. They twirled about her face until only her nose and eyes were visible. Her screams continued, but were muffled to a bearable level by the trees. She was in an immovable prison of living wood.

  “Thank you.” Zela nodded to the trees. Her fingers danced across Aiofe's temple when she reached Lancelot. “What happened?”

  “I don't know. I haven't been thinking straight. But I found Aiofe in Guinevere's room, and then we came out here. I don't... I can't...”

  Zela placed her other hand on Lancelot's shoulder. “It's okay. Don't think about it now. We'll discuss it later. First, we need to get her to the castle and find Arthur. It looks like just a nasty bump on the head, but I want to check her over thoroughly to make sure there is no dark magic at work her.” She shot a glare at Guinevere.

  Lancelot agreed wholeheartedly. “Guinevere,” he said. “What about her?”

  Zela's lips curled. “She can stay right there. The trees will make the perfect captors and we won't have to worry about her breaking free. Where is her guard, anyway?”

  Lancelot shrugged as they walked back toward the castle. “I don't know. He wasn't there when I reached her room, and I didn't see him when we came out here.”

  “I see. I wonder how long she has had free roam of the castle without our knowledge. This is concerning.”

  Lancelot couldn't agree more, but he didn't respond. His head was still pounding from the battle of wills that had raged inside it and the weight in his arms was growing heavier by the moment. He just wanted to sit down and sleep for days, but he had one goal at the moment and one goal only. He needed to find Arthur, and he needed to tell him the truth. The whole truth.

  Behind them, trapped in a wooden suit, Guinevere thrashed and screamed. Or tried to. The trees laughed at her failed efforts. And at the two blue toes that poked through the branches.

  *~*~*

  TWENTY-ONE

  *~*~*

  Lancelot pounded up the steps to the castle as fast as his rubbery legs would take him. “Arthur!“ His shouts rang out off the halls as Calis swung the door open for him. Zela was right behind him and her shout echoed his.

  The king poked his head out of the council room. “What...” His voice trailed off when he saw Lancelot with the bundle in his arms. He crossed the space between them in two massive steps.

  “Aiofe?” Arthur brushed her hair back from her face and relieved Lancelot of his burden.

  Lancelot sank against the wall as the adrenaline rushing through his veins began to fade.

  “Eden.” Zela called into the council room and the Eastern general appeared. “Lancelot needs assistance. He has been under a spell. Please make sure all remnants of Guinevere's influence are removed.”

  Eden tipped her head in Zela's direction and knelt beside the knight. “Head up. Let me look into your eyes.”

  “Aiofe,” Arthur cradled the still body against his. “Guinevere did this?” The fire in his voice sent servants skittering.

  “She did, but she has been detained. We can deal with her later. Bring Aiofe here.” Zela walked into the room and pointed to the table.

  Arthur laid Aiofe on it and took half a step to the side. Zela placed her hand on her niece's head and closed her eyes.

  “I will see that woman hanged.”

  Kane stood on the other side of the Arthur and stared at his daughter.

  “Get in line,” Arthur growled. The two men stood together, watching guard over the woman they both cared deeply for as Zela examined her.

  “Move.”

  They shifted aside and let the smaller faery step between them. Her hands roamed over Aiofe's body, checking every inch of her.

  “I don't find any traces of magic anywhere,” she said once she was done. “All the damage appears to be physical.”

  Arthur sent one of the knights to fetch the castle physician. “Have her meet us in Aiofe's chambers.”

  He slipped his arms under her and lifted her from the table. Kane watched as they disappeared out the door.

  “Go with her.” Zela's hand rested on her older brother's back.

  “I'm not welcome there.”

  “She's your daughter, Kane. She may hate you now, like we all do, but you have to be there. You have to earn her trust if you ever hope to have a relationship with her.”

  Kane stared at the empty hallway. “What are you going to do?”

  “I'm going to go bring in the traitorous witch I currently have hanging in the woods and then we're going to figure out just how big a mess we're in.”

  Kane nodded. “I better go.” Kane patted Zela on the shoulder and walked toward the stairs.

  “Kane...”

  He stopped and turned to face her.

  “I'm glad you're back.” Her face held a small smile and her eyes glistened a bit. “I missed my big brother.”

  His voice caught in his throat so he just smiled and nodded. A weight that he hadn't known he was carrying lifted off his shoulders and he felt a million pounds lighter as he headed toward the stairs.

  The castle physician was already in the room when he arrived. The purple-haired woman buzzed and hummed around Aiofe's bed and kept shooing Arthur away.

  “Last warning, your highness,” she chirped as she shoved him aside once more. “Move move move. I must work in peace.”

  Arthur grumbled, but he squeezed Aiofe's hand once more and walked over to where Kane stood at the curtain.

  “How is she?”

  Arthur shrugged. “Hurt. She has several cuts and lots of bruises. She was hit on the head with something heavy.”

  Kane's eyes scanned the room. It had clearly been cleaned recently and the furniture was rearranged.

  “Did Aiofe redecorate in here?”

  Arthur blinked at him. “I don't think so. Why?”

  Kane pointed to the carpet. “The chairs have been moved. The rug is faded enough so you can see where they used to stand.” He walked around the room. A piece of wood sticking out from under a side table caught his eye. He stooped to pick it up and something caught his attention. He picked up a candle stick holder and held it out to Arthur. “Blood.”

  Arthur took it and examined it. Sure enough, blood sat in the grooves. It had been cleaned, but not thoroughly.

  “What's going on here?” he mumbled.

  “I think I know.” Both Arthur and Kane spun at the voice behind them. Lancelot stood there. He still felt woozy, but he was all right.

  “Explain,” Kane said, crossing his arms.

  Lancelot shot him a glance, but gave his full attention to Arthur. “Arthur, there's something you need to know about Guinevere. Something I've known since... since before. I should have told you, but I was weak. I let her use me, and I may have hurt you again.”

  “Lance, sit.” Arthur helped his friend to a seat. “Now what is it?”

  “Guinevere is a faery.”

  “What?” Kane and Arthur spoke together, both voices echoing their confusion and disbelief.

  “Half faery. Her mother is Leanansidhe. She has used you, ever since the beginning. And she used me. She nearly destroyed us, and she's trying to do it again.”

  “I refuse to let that happen.”

  “So do I. She seduced me, but somehow, this time I broke free. When I found Aiofe, when I saw that she was hurt and thought about what that would do to you... I couldn't do it again. I couldn't take everything you loved from you. I couldn't let Guinevere do it, either. I don't think I would have been able to do it myself if Zela hadn't been near.”

  He shook his head and rested it in his hands. “I'm so tired.”

>   “Stay here and rest.” Arthur squeezed Lancelot's shoulder before looking at the physician.

  The woman caught his eye and waved a hand at him. “Go, go. You can do nothing here. Leave me in peace.”

  Arthur narrowed his eyes at the woman. “Lance, rest here for a bit. Stay with Aiofe.”

  Lancelot nodded and settled back in the chair.

  Arthur caught Kane looking at him and tilted his head toward the door. Without another word, the two men stomped across the floor, ready to exact their revenge.

  They were barely out of the castle door when they heard Guinevere's screams echoing across the courtyard. “Let me go! You have no right! How dare you! Do you know who I am? I am the queen. I am Guinevere and I will not be treated like--“

  Zela waved a hand and a vine snaked up to cover the other woman's mouth. “Does she ever shut up?”

  Arthur snorted. “No. At least, she never did before.”

  He looked the half-faery up and down. The trees had sacrificed some vines and branches to keep her contained. The only parts of her that weren't covered were her head and her feet. Her hands were pressed to her sides. Arthur stared down at her shoeless feet.

  “What are those?”

  Zela shrugged. “She refuses to talk about it. Says she won't tell us anything.”

  “Uncover her mouth, please.”

  Zela hesitated, but raised a hand and let the vines drop.

  “Arthur, you can't do this to me. After all I've done for you, after all we've shared...” Guinevere's formerly angry face morphed into one of innocence and sadness. “Please.”

  The king took a step forward so that he was blue toe to boot with her. “Guinevere, or whoever you really are, I hereby accuse you of crimes against, well, everyone. You have betrayed the land of Faery and the world of humans. You have deceived and seduced in order to destroy the trust and faith of those around you. You are an ally of the wicked Leanansidhe and you are our enemy. I sentence you to an eternity of imprisonment in the darkest dungeon cell in Castle Daor. You may not be freed by anyone but myself, forever until the end of time.”

  “Arthur,” Guinevere cried. “No!“ She tried to step toward him, to lean up and kiss him, but her binds encumbered her and she stumbled and fell.