Fallen Queen (Lost Fae Book 2)

by May Dawson

  “You blame yourself,” I said, understanding dawning.

  He froze suddenly, and I thought it was because emotion had overwhelmed him. Then he turned, pressing his finger to his lips.

  Outside in the hall, there was a faint dragging sound. An icy chill settled over my skin, and the memory of the Shadow Man washed over me. I felt the same strange, compelling sense of fear that I had then.

  “Where is your sword?” he whispered, reaching to lift his sword silently from where it lay in his bed.

  “In my room,” I mouthed.

  “Very useful,” he mouthed back. “Stay behind me.”

  I pulled a face as he moved toward the door. Then he abruptly flattened himself against the wall, drawing me against his body. The two of us froze there, both barely daring to breathe.

  A Fae slipped into Azrael’s room. He was barely more than a shadow; he didn’t even seem to have a face, and it was impossible to tell what he was looking at.

  Azrael pushed me away and was on him in a second.

  Blades clashed, but there was nowhere to go in the tight confines of this room. I ducked, trying to get to the doorway as the two of them tried to get a blade on each other when they couldn’t lift their arms in a full swing.

  I crept for the door, but the assassin saw me and whirled, slicing out with his blade.

  Suddenly, Tiron was in the doorway, grabbing me and turning his body to put himself between the blades and me. The two of us stumbled out into the hallway, but not before I heard him gasp.

  “Tiron,” I cried out.

  “I’m fine, Princess,” he said, flashing me a smile as he stumbled into my arms.

  His weight propelled the two of us back until my shoulder blades slammed against the wall. I caught him around the waist, bearing him up as his knees went out from underneath him.

  Duncan was suddenly in the hall with us, his eyes wide. “What happened?”

  “Some kind of assassin,” I said. “Azrael—”

  “Killed him.” Azrael finished for me, standing in the doorway, his shining blade dripping with blood. Then his gaze went to Tiron.

  “I’m fine,” Tiron lied again. My hand against his side was damp, and I raised it to find my palm covered in his blood.

  Something dropped from the ceiling—another Fae shadow. I grabbed Tiron’s sword and rose to protect him.

  But Duncan was already there, raising his blade. The Fae’s sword clashed against his, and then Duncan whirled. He slammed his enormous elbow into the shadow’s jaw, and it rolled to one side—just as I thrust out my blade.

  For a second, the shadow looked at me with its featureless face, blood bubbling around the blade of my sword. Then I pulled the sword loose.

  This close, I could see that though the Fae was clearly tangible—and stabbable—it looked as if it was made of shadow. There were no features, nothing but darkness.

  That darkness rippled, fading around the edges, then disappeared.

  “What kind of monsters are these?” Duncan barked.

  “They die easily enough,” Azrael said. His eyes tracked something along the ceiling, and I followed his gaze to see shadows clinging all along the ceiling. There must have been a dozen of them. “When you can catch them.”

  “Shadow monsters,” Tiron managed. “Part of the Shadow Man. The Shadow Man is sending them ahead to track us down.”

  “The Shadow Man is a story,” Azrael said dismissively.

  “Really?” Duncan’s gaze was still steady on the shadow monster that clung to the ceiling as the three of us closed around Tiron, making sure we could protect him. “Then is it a story that has us surrounded?”

  The first monster dropped toward us. I stepped forward, slashing the sword through it, but it moved in such a rapid blur that my first blow missed.

  “Get back,” Duncan growled at me. “They’re here for you.”

  The shadow slipped toward me, so fast it was a blur, but I was fast too. Our swords clashed once, twice, then it feinted toward me. I twisted away from the blade by instinct, even though the second I did, I knew it was a feint. It stuck with the blade in its left hand, but the feint had left an opening for a split-second, and Azrael kicked it. It stumbled back, the blade just missing my side, and I followed it up, lopping its head off. The shadow rippled and disappeared.

  And more shadows were dropping all around us.

  “Does that matter to you?” I demanded.

  Duncan stabbed a shadow, kicked it off his sword. As it fell back, Azrael slashed, and the thing’s head fell off before both disappeared. Duncan moved onto the next monster with hardly a pause, but between them, he shot me a dark look.

  I killed another shadow, but as I pulled back my blade, I felt a creeping feeling up my spine as another dropped from the ceiling right before me. I whirled just as Tiron called, “Alisa look out!”

  As I yanked my sword free and whirled, I splattered the wall with the shadow’s blood. But I was going to be too late; I could already feel a premonition of the strike along my kidneys or under my ribs.

  The shadow was still when I turned. I didn’t hesitate, slashing it across the chest. But when it hit its knees, there was a dagger buried in its back.

  “You’re welcome,” Raura called from down the doorway, where she stood framed, another throwing blade gripped lightly between her fingertips.

  She threw the blade at the monster Duncan was fighting, and the dagger struck true, hitting the thing in the eye.

  Even Duncan looked impressed.

  Then she raced toward us, flanked by Arlen and Lake. The three of them joined us in fighting the shadows, making it a far fairer fight. Sword clashed upon sword, the only other sounds the quiet grunting of our breath. The shadows were eerily silent.

  And then the last of the shadows were dead, and the hall was silent.

  “What kind of trouble did you bring with you?” Arlen demanded, staring around at all of us.

  “Faer’s trying to reach her,” Azrael said. “Trying to stop her before she can get her memories back.”

  The conversation faded for me as I turned to find Tiron still lying with his back against the wall. His eyes were heavy-lidded, but he tried to smile when I dropped to my knees beside him.

  “We’ve got to heal him,” I said urgently.

  “Tried,” he said, his fingers pressed into the bloody gouge, which was still pumping blood steadily. “Something poisonous… slowing the healing. But it did a little.”

  “I’ll go get Fenig,” Raura said. “She’ll want to know what happened here.”

  Azrael nodded, watching her go, then gave Arlen a hard look. “How is it that the three of you happened to be so close when we needed help?”

  Arlen gave him a cold smile. “I was on watch, walking the defenses and heard a girlish scream.”

  Duncan shoved him against the wall.

  “Relax,” Azrael said. “They’re friends. Assholes, but friends.”

  Tiron smiled faintly at the thought. Duncan reluctantly nodded an apology at Arlen—barely moving his head—and Arlen nodded just as faintly back.

  Duncan raked his hand through his hair, his face still livid. He hated seeing Tiron hurt, no matter how glib he always was.

  “Hang in there,” I told Tiron, covering his hand with mine.

  I raised my magic, forming a warm golden glow under my fingers that melted into his skin. He said softly, “Feels like summer.”

  “Yeah, so did those shadow knights with the poisoned blades,” Lake said.

  “What does that mean?” I demanded. “The shadow knights are definitely Faer’s? Are you sure?”

  “Yes,” Azrael said reluctantly. “If the stories are true…”

  Duncan scoffed at that. Right now we had pretty convincing evidence that the stories were true; Tiron was bleeding uncontrollably right in front of us.

  “Then the shadows are the dark side of summer’s power,” Azrael finished. “All that light creates darkness too. The summer king is suppose
d to be able to call on the shadows and the Shadow Man according to the old legends but…”

  “But some of us would rather not believe in them,” Duncan finished.

  “The Shadow Man and his knights haven’t been seen in hundreds of years,” Azrael said. “Scholars thought even if they were real—and there was some doubt—that no one was strong enough to call on them.”

  Great. Faer as an even-more powerful enemy; what a lovely idea.

  “But Herrick did terrible things to extend his magic,” Azrael added, “and Faer seems to have inherited all that power somehow. So perhaps he can control the Shadow Man.”

  “Faer doesn’t want you to get your memories back,” Tiron told me. “He must know you’ll be on our side.”

  Even now, when my magic wasn’t enough to staunch his bleeding, he was trying to take care of me. He spoke to the biggest fear we all had; that with my memories restored, I’d take Faer’s side. That I could be as much a villain as he was.

  “Stop worrying about me,” I said, his face blurring as tears welled in my eyes. I hated seeing Tiron hurt.

  “Hey, hey,” he said, his hand cupping my cheek. “Come here.”

  He wrapped his arm around me. Duncan looked away, a muscle fluttering his cheek as if he were about to lose his mind.

  “Don’t let guilt crush you,” Tiron whispered in my ear.

  “But this is my fault,” I whispered. “All of it. The autumn court. Azrael’s nightmares. You…”

  “We all make our choices,” Tiron whispered. “Whatever you did in the past doesn’t mean anything to me. You just have to make the best choice you can now.”

  “You got hurt protecting me.”

  “That was my best choice.” He winked at me. “You’re worth it.”

  Raura ran back down the hallway, followed by Fenig and two more of the sisters. Their feet were almost silent on the long stone floors. As the sisters surrounded Tiron, jostling me out of the way,

  I rose to my feet and stepped back reluctantly. The golden glowing strands that swirled around my fingers sparked, then died.

  “Poisoned, yes.” One of them looked up at Fenig. “We can get the toxin out of his system, but it will take time.”

  “How long?” Azrael demanded.

  The sister answered Fenig, not him. “Days.”

  “We don’t have days,” Azrael said. “We’ve got to get out of here before more shadows find us. Before…”

  He trailed off, but his face was dark. Were we putting everyone in this keep in danger by sleeping here tonight?

  “They won’t come for me,” Tiron said. “They just want Alisa. Leave me and go ahead to the caves.”

  “We’ll take him to the infirmary,” Fenig said.

  She nodded to the sisters, and with surprising ease born of their strength, they picked him up. My eyes flooded with tears as he was carried away.

  Once the hall was empty, it was hard to believe the shadows had ever been here.

  “We’ll have to go on without him,” Duncan ground out. “We’re so close. Faer will just send more monsters after us.”

  Azrael had warned me that once I started down this road, we’d all be lost if I earned Faer’s ire without regaining my memories.

  Azrael’s fingers closed around my shoulder. “He’ll be fine, Alisa. He’s tough.”

  But Duncan looked at me as if he hated me. And of course he did—there were two people he loved in this world, and I’d hurt both of them in one night.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “I don’t like leaving him behind,” Duncan told Azrael as the three of us rode out from the keep.

  “I don’t either, but he’ll be fine,” Azrael said.

  I looked over my shoulder at the gray castle that rose out of the woods. I hated leaving him behind too, but I was quiet. Duncan wouldn’t want to hear that I felt the same way he did.

  Tiron had told me not to let guilt crush me, and yet, I was doing just that. I straightened my shoulders and raised my chin.

  Time to face my past, so I could begin to fix it.

  “We’ve got to stop Faer,” I said.

  Azrael and Duncan exchanged a look.

  “All right, Princess,” Duncan said. “Talk to me when you’ve got your memories back. Then we’ll talk about a coup.”

  As we headed toward the caves, the forest seemed to grow darker. The trees were ancient—the trunks wider than a car—and their leaves fluttered high above us, the canopy blocking out the sun. A shiver ran down my spine, afraid that a creeper would drop down on me.

  But maybe even creepers didn’t live out here. Maybe even they were afraid of the monsters.

  The forest felt eerie, dead. The only sounds were the footfalls of our horses, their faint breathing. We rode in grim silence for an hour.

  “Tell me everything you know about the shadows,” I asked Azrael. “I know you thought they were a story. But if those stories are true…”

  “If those stories are true, then we’re in trouble,” Azrael said. “The Shadow Man is an assassin that binds to one target. He’ll kill those that get in his way, but only one person matters to him.”

  “That would be you,” Duncan put in helpfully.

  “Well, you do always say that everyone wants to kill me. How does he find his…target?”

  “It takes a lot of power to raise and then control the Shadow Man. If Faer did this, then his magic is stronger than we thought,” Azrael began.

  “Interesting,” I said. “Because he could barely break the magic that changed my appearance.”

  “Maybe it was Herrick who changed your face,” Azrael said. “We all thought he had you killed.”

  It was strange to imagine my own father, terrifying as he sounded, ordering my death. “Could he have sent the Shadow Man after me? Before he died?”

  Azrael shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe he’s lain dormant all this time, waiting for you to come back into this world.”

  “How do we stop him?” I demanded.

  Azrael looked thoughtful.

  And he kept looking thoughtful as our horses wound through the forest.

  Duncan barked a laugh. “He doesn’t want to admit it, but we have no clue, right? A fucking enemy made of shadows. Does he bleed like his knights? We don’t know.”

  “There are no legends where the Shadow Man was defeated,” Azrael admitted. “So there’s little to draw from.”

  “So you mean he always managed to kill his target, in the lore?” Fantastic. This day just kept getting better and better. “What about the shadow knights?”

  “They’ll kill anyone.” Duncan fixed me with a bland smile. “So they’re far more frightening.”

  He meant it as a dig, but it was true. I was more worried for Duncan and Azrael than I was for myself. While I had no intentions of dying, it still struck me as wrong for them to be in danger at my brother’s hands, trying to help me.

  “If I die,” I asked, “Does the Shadow Man stop? Do the knights disappear or will they keep wreaking havoc?”

  Azrael shot me a dark look. “No dramatic self-sacrifices, Alisa. We need you alive.”

  “I’m not planning on self-sacrifice,” I promised. “But why? Why do you need me alive?”

  “When you regain your memories, you might know how to fight the Shadow Man,” he said, instead of answering my question. “Maybe Herrick taught you both something about using that magic.”

  “Maybe,” I said doubtfully. “Herrick and I weren’t exactly… on the same side.”

  “Then why did you give him the key?” Duncan demanded.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “But I had some kind of reason—I just don’t know what it was—”

  Azrael’s face tightened, as if my weak justifications just reminded him of what it had been like to watch his knights murdered, his kingdom destroyed.

  “I’ll know soon,” I said, my voice confident no matter how I felt. When I saw that devastation reflected on Azrael’s face, it sucked the life out of me. “And t
hen I’ll know how to fight Faer.”

  I couldn’t fix the devastation the summer court had caused, but at least I could stop him. I could let the other courts live and rebuild in peace.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a shadow moving. My horse must have picked up on the movement of my body, because it shifted left. My knee brushed against Duncan’s.

  He glanced at me in irritation, but before he could make whatever smartass remark he intended to deliver next, his gaze changed as if he saw something on my face and he understood. He nodded as he reached for the sword at his side.

  Azrael, on the other side of Duncan, did the same. I reached over my back and touched the hilt of my sword just as the forest exploded into motion around us.

  More of Faer’s shadow assassins surrounded us, a wave of darkness slipping out from between the trees—too many of them to even begin to count. My heart sank.

  “Get to the cave!” Azrael shouted, and the three of us rode fast for the cave, slashing away at the shadows that leapt at us.

  Duncan’s horse reared back, and he fought to keep it under control, slashing with his sword at the shadows that leapt at him. Then a blade sliced deep into his horse’s chest, and it let out a scream that sounded human.

  As the horse whipped around, Duncan finally came unseated and was thrown over its head. The shadow that had attacked his horse whirled to face him.

  The blade in the shadow’s hand gleamed, sharp and dark and wicked, as he moved toward Duncan.

  I trampled the shadow that had just attacked me under my horse’s feet, then leapt off. I ran to reach Duncan. Azrael was still on horseback, whirling to fight two shadows that attacked him, trying to outmaneuver him.

  Duncan was dazed, on his hands and knees, already rising onto his knees as he raised his sword getting ready for the fight. But the shadow was a flash as Duncan shook his head, trying to clear it, and the shadow’s sword arched out—

  My blade caught the shadow’s sword just before he slashed Duncan’s throat.

  The shadow and I parried back and forth, and then another shadow must have almost slipped in at my back and knifed me, because I heard Duncan grunt and the sound of a sword striking deep. I looked over my shoulder to find him there, drawing his bloodied sword from the body of the assassin.