Fallen Queen (Lost Fae Book 2)

by May Dawson

  “As you wish,” she said lightly.

  She was flanked by two males, a redhead and one with dark hair, and sudden recognition flared in the dark-haired male’s face. My fingers stretched subtly, ready to use magic to call my sword from its sheath on my horse’s back.

  “What courts?” he demanded, his voice gravelly.

  “Azrael, Duncan and Alandra of the fall court, and Tiron of the winter court,” Azrael said with a slight bow. “At your service.”

  His tone suggested that we were not, in fact, at his service.

  “Royalty,” the girl said, her voice mocking. “How very impressive.”

  “Right now, we’re simply knights on a mission.”

  “Yes, Faer has made you simply knights, hasn’t he?” she said lightly.

  I knew Azrael had to bristle on the inside, but he didn’t seem to register the insult. “Thank you for welcoming us to spring court territory.”

  She inclined her head.

  “She’s not fall court,” the dark-haired man ground out.

  She frowned. “What is it, Arlen?”

  Arlen suddenly rode forward toward Alisa. “Lake!” he called toward the redheaded male, and he immediately started to canter behind us.

  Azrael moved to intercept Arlen at the same time I headed toward Lake. Both of us threw up our magic as a shield to block them. Their horses stumbled back at the blast of magic, throwing Arlen, who slammed into the ground.

  Azrael was on top of Arlen in an instant, his blade in his hand again.

  “That’s quite rude,” Azrael told him.

  Tiron threw up his shield around us, the air suddenly cold. But he was too late, because the girl had slipped in first, so quick and lithe she was almost a blur.

  Alisa ducked, throwing the girl over her shoulder. The girl rolled over Alisa’s shoulder, but managed to land lightly on her feet.

  In her hand, the girl gripped Alisa’s cowl now. Alisa’s long lavender hair fell loose around her beautiful face. The look on Alisa’s face was resigned the second she was exposed, but her chin lifted.

  “Well, hello, summer princess,” the girl crooned. Then, her voice flat, she demanded, “Seize them!”

  “You don’t want to do that,” Tiron cautioned.

  The horsemen edged in on us, although they couldn’t break through Tiron’s shield without a spell of their own. The girl suddenly dropped Alisa’s cowl on the ground, her blade in her hand instead.

  “I don’t allow summer court passage through our lands,” the girl said. “You’ve done enough damage, Alisa.”

  “She doesn’t remember any of that,” Azrael interrupted. “We’re trying to take her to the cursed caves to regain her memory. Faer is trying to stop her—so if you hate him, you should help us.”

  “The enemy of my enemy is my friend,” she said contemplatively. “Yes, I’ve heard that.”

  Then she said decisively, “I usually prefer to go with I’ll slaughter this enemy and I’ll slaughter that enemy.”

  “Catchy,” I said.

  “You don’t allow summer court passage?” Azrael asked. “What about Turic? What would he say, Raura?”

  His tone was lightly mocking, and she stepped forward, putting her blade to his throat. Her chest heaved with anger, even though that pleasant smile was still fixed across her face. Azrael just looked amused, even with steel pressed against his jugular.

  “You’re usually the one who de-escalates,” I said.

  “Raura and I already know each other,” he said. “It’s a little late for de-escalation. Are you launching a coup, Raura?”

  “I don’t need to launch a coup,” she crooned back. “I’m the one here with a blade to your throat, and Turic is away collecting taxes. No one’s going to tell him the sad tale of woe if the four of you end up sunk to the bottom of the lake.”

  “Or we could form an alliance,” Azrael said pleasantly. “I’m no fan of Turic, and as I recall, you’ve got no love lost with your father either, Princess. That’s why you ran away to become a knight.”

  “Maybe you could not antagonize the girl with a sword to your throat,” Alisa said.

  “Lovely advice, Princess. This big strapping idiot doesn’t take good advice, in my experience.” Raura said smartly.

  I was getting the feeling that de-escalation fell on my shoulders.

  Which meant we were probably all going to die.

  “Look,” I said, “I hate the summer princess too.”

  Raura turned toward me, brows rising skeptically. Azrael, paused with his hands at his shoulders, rolled his eyes even if he didn’t dare move his throat. Alisa stared at me wide-eyed.

  Suddenly I had everyone’s attention, which was never my favorite place to be.

  “Where are you going with this?” Alisa demanded.

  I ignored her. “I lost a kingdom as well. Lost friends. Worst of all, I saw so many of my knights, and my own people, slaughtered—not just in Faer’s war, but afterward, in his reprisals. I know I’m not alone in that.”

  I looked at Arlen, who met my gaze stoically, but I couldn’t help glancing at Tiron too. I was always amazed he had managed to be so forgiving; I would have breathed only for revenge if I’d lost as much as the winter court.

  “Alisa’s spent five years among the mortals,” I said. “I never thought Dirtside could be a good influence, but she neither remembers what she did to you, nor would she do it again. She’s offered her life to protect anyone who seemed to need it, over and over again. This Fae is not the same Princess Alisa you knew, and killing her wouldn’t be the revenge you desire.”

  “Perhaps not,” Raura said, “but it might be pleasant anyway.”

  She didn’t sound quite as bloodthirsty as she had before, though.

  “I know it’s hard to believe she might have changed,” I added. “This could all be an elaborate ruse. I know that too. But she’s our best chance at destroying Faer. Herrick tortured and killed to amass all that magic power, and Faer has inherited that power somehow; she shares his blood, she can take his throne.”

  “And then what?” Arlen demanded. “Summer prince or summer princess, are we supposed to believe it matters which of them rules?”

  “Yes,” Azrael said. “Because we’ll make sure she can’t keep the throne.”

  Alisa’s lips parted in surprise. She might not want the throne, but that was the first she’d heard of that plan. That had always been our plan B, if Faer didn’t keep his promise that if we dragged his sister home, he’d release us from our vows as summer knights and give us back the fall court.

  “If you kill the princess,” Azrael warned, “You’ll never stop Faer.”

  For a few long seconds, tension shimmered in the air.

  “You’ll come back with us to the keep tonight,” Raura said finally. “Fenig and the Delphin can talk to you. Then we’ll see what we believe.”

  She pulled her blade away from Azrael’s neck—she looked reluctant not to slit his throat, I was familiar with that feeling—and sheathed it. She reached out and clasped his hand in greeting, signifying that we were safe.

  For now.

  Sometimes, the only good life goal you can have is trying not to die immediately.

  Chapter Ten

  Alisa

  “Do you think they have a Delphin as well?” Tiron asked Azrael as we dismounted our horses at the gate to a castle that rose out of the forest as if it had grown there at the same time as the massive trees that surrounded us.

  Raura dismounted her horse and turned to us, contempt written across her pretty features. “The High Delphin lives here, when she chooses. I don’t think anyone has a Delphin. They aren’t really a thing one owns—as much as that troubles Turic and I’m sure Faer, as well.”

  The place we’d arrived at reminded me of a monastery, all stone walls and echoes and eerie silence except for the clatter of our feet as we followed her. I shivered.

  “What is this place?” I asked Tiron.

  “It’s b
oth a monastery and a keep to protect travelers but most of all, to watch out for the dangers that come from the front.”

  The front that Duncan had been so desperate to return to wasn’t the fault line of a war with another Fae nation, but where rips between universes—like the one we’d used to travel to and from Earth—had grown wild, allowing all kinds of deadly beasts to lurk into the land.

  “The Fae have monks?” I asked, amused by the idea of any Fae living a celibate life of prayer and contemplation. We were not a temperate people.

  “In a way,” Tiron said, before shoving his shoulder into mine teasingly. “You’ll see.”

  We were taken to a long hall of what seemed like cells, tiny rooms with stone walls and little inside but a comfortable bed—I bounced on it to be sure—and a table for the lamp. I checked that there was no lock on the door, but even though the knob turned freely in my hand, I felt very skeptical about this place.

  “This gives me a bad feeling,” I murmured to Azrael.

  He leaned close to me, his lips brushing my ear. “Then sleep with me tonight so I can look after you.”

  “Or maybe so I can look after you,” I shot back, and he answered me with a grin. I smiled back; this warmer, happier version of Azrael lit a spark in my chest that I hadn’t felt for as long as I remembered.

  We all washed for dinner. When I came out of my cell, I noticed there was a door at either end of the hall. I half-expected the door to be locked, but when I tried it, it opened to reveal a set of stairs. I climbed them and pushed the door at the top open, only to have the fresh, ozone-scented breeze ruffle my hair. I’d found a way out.

  I took in the stone battlements that surrounded me, and the deep green of the forest beyond. We were on the outside wall of the keep, high above the trees below; Tiron and I could fly out of here easily, but Duncan and Azrael couldn’t unless we were able to carry them.

  I went to the wall, just in time to see the guards swinging the enormous gates close. The clang when the gates shut reverberated through the air.

  Now it was just my men and me, sealed into a castle where everyone hated the summer court…for good reason.

  “Alisa.” Tiron stood in the doorway, the breeze ruffling his blond hair about that hard-planed face. “Ready for dinner?”

  “I don’t know why you don’t hate me, Tiron,” I said, “but I’m glad you don’t.”

  His lips turned up at one side. “Someday, if you want to leave Azrael’s bed, I’ll show you just how much I don’t hate you.”

  I smiled at the flirtation. I loved Azrael, but he wasn’t the only male for me. I already couldn’t imagine life without my light-hearted friend who summoned ice so easily, even though he was full of warmth.

  We had plenty of time to make sense of our future, though—we had to live long enough to have one. First, we had to survive Raura. I caught his hand in mine, swinging it between us, until we reached the narrow steps and had to separate.

  At the bottom of the stairs, Duncan and Azrael must wait for us. I couldn’t see them yet, but their voices drifted up the circular stairs.

  “You know, I wasn’t sure what was in your head when you began with that whole I hate the summer princess,” Az mused, “but I was proud of you back there. You kept us not-dead, and I always appreciate that.”

  Duncan just grunted. I wondered how he felt about Azrael’s pride. Then we rounded the steps, and Duncan straightened as if he’d been caught.

  Meanwhile, Azrael leaned with one shoulder against the stone wall; his gaze flickered to me and although his face didn’t change, his eyes brightened. Having that kind of effect on Azrael caused a bloom of warmth through my chest, and I hoped it didn’t reflect on my face.

  “Let’s try to stay together,” Azrael said, offering me his hand. “Given that everyone wants to kill you.”

  A servant—or a guard, it was hard to tell which—opened at the door at the other end of the hall.

  We walked the long, curving stone halls until we came to an enormous great hall. One second, everything was eerie silence; then a bell tolled, loud and slow, and the next thing, noise and laughter was everywhere. Fae children raced to fill the room—high and low, some of them barely more than toddlers—and knights followed them at a more sedate pace, although with the usual jostling and teasing of young warriors.

  Everyone looked so young, even by Fae standards, and I elbowed Tiron. “Why are they all kids?”

  “Abandoned or orphaned Fae seek refuge here. They join the Fae warriors in watching over the front and those who travel to and from it,” Tiron explained.

  “There’s so many of them.”

  “Faer’s war,” Tiron said shortly. “The summer court rules all. That comes at a cost.”

  “Before it was his war, it was Herrick’s,” I said, feeling troubled by the thought that the war might have been mine, too. How much of a role had I played in that war, and in orphaning the children who surrounded us?

  As I started to take a seat at the table, Raura suddenly slipped in between Azrael and me. She elbowed him in the side, fiercely enough to make him grunt. For a second, I thought she might have a crush on him, but her gaze was fixed steadily on me.

  “Hello there, Herrick’s daughter,” she purred.

  “Hello, Turic’s daughter.” I took a shot in the dark that she would like that as much as I did.

  Before she could answer, a white haired woman rose from the table across from us, which was crowded with children.

  “Fenig doesn’t seem as interested in murdering us as you suggested,” Azrael said to Raura.

  “She doesn’t know you well enough yet,” Raura returned.

  The room had gone silent, and I caught Fenig staring at us all as if we were interrupting. I ducked my head to avoid her glare, and caught Raura doing the same. So the rebellious brigand princess was cowed by someone.

  Fenig spoke a brief blessing over the meal. Once she finished, the room exploded into chatter and laughter and the scraping of bowls and forks as everyone reached for the bountiful food piled up at each table. Roasted chicken surrounded with fragrant vegetables, fresh-baked bread, yellow butter and cheese, jam, brightly-colored fruits arranged invitingly on platters; it was an amazing meal. Maybe I could learn to live without supermarkets and Starbucks.

  “There’s the Delphin,” Duncan said suddenly, and I followed his gaze to the old woman who, despite her wizened appearance, moved as easily as a warrior.

  “Why does she live all the way out here by the rift?” I asked.

  “She knows all the knights, so that she can see their future,” Tiron said. “That way she can see what monsters will rise and where they’ll strike.”

  “That way, the death of all these young knights serves two purposes,” Duncan muttered, and his grim words set me on edge.

  “Do you think she ever met me?” I asked. “The old Alisa?”

  “What does it matter?” Duncan asked bluntly. “Assuming we survive the night, we’ll reach the caves tomorrow.”

  “You’re right,” I said, and the words seemed to shock him so much, he didn’t even manage to say anything sarcastic.

  Arlen and Lake suddenly sat down between Tiron and Duncan across from us.

  Raura smiled at Duncan’s growl even as he shifted his plate aside. “How cozy,” she said. “We can talk all night.”

  But strangely enough, none of our males seemed to be great conversationalists. Duncan and Azrael glared at Arlen and Lake, and Arlen and Lake glared right back.

  Tiron, on the other hand, caught my gaze, then rolled his eyes, and I ducked my head to hide a smile.

  “So tell me about the king,” Tiron said, propping his chin in his hand as he turned toward Raura. “I heard there’s some hooded heroine who’s been popping up to inconvenience him.”

  Raura scoffed. “Heroine seems a bit dramatic, isn’t it?”

  “Well, you might not believe in heroes, but the villagers seem to,” Arlen said, raising his brows at her before he
ripped into a chicken leg. “You just wish they liked you half as much.”

  “Of course they do, the Huntress throws their tax money back down their chimneys,” she said.

  “So you take the side of Turic, then?” Tiron asked, his voice innocent even though his eyes were full of mischief.

  “Not quite,” Raura said.

  I had a feeling that something had to be wrong with Turic for Raura to be as cheerful as she was, and Tiron managed to draw her out. She finally told us about how Turic styled himself as king, but hadn’t yet managed to take the throne. Magic bound the royalty and determined who took the throne, and the magic in the Fae world was convinced there was a true heir still alive somewhere. Only the Delphine could decide that he was the heir indeed—and they didn’t seem inclined to humor him.

  “Don’t you want him to be the king? Wouldn’t you want to be a princess?” Tiron asked, and I glanced at him, not quite sure how to read him.

  “No,” Raura said haughtily. I was pretty sure she knew her father would make a terrible king, but then she added, “I’d rather be a queen.”

  “Gods save us all,” Arlen muttered.

  Then the table jolted upward and he winced. Raura looked so innocent that I knew for sure she had kicked him.

  “We ran into an interesting monster while we were still in summer territory,” Azrael said. “Even before we met you. Something that came through the rift—a dust worm.”

  Raura raised her eyebrows, but let the dig pass for now. I had a feeling she’d remember it, though. “There are a lot of interesting monsters these days. And not all of them even come from the rift.”

  “Oh?” Azrael raised his eyebrows, but there was interest written across his face that reminded me of my Hunter friends back home, of Julian and Carter and Elly. Azrael seemed so polished, but underneath all that charm and sophistication, the male loved to get his sword—and his fists—bloody.

  “We’ve had a lot of winter monsters rampaging through,” Arlen said. “Makes for interesting work.”

  Tiron frowned at him. “Aren’t you a winter court refugee yourself?”