The Mad Queen (The Fae War Chronicles Book 5)

by Jocelyn Fox

  “Lady Bearer.” Vell gave a measured nod.

  “High Queen.” Tess returned the nod. She waited for Vell to continue. The thick silence in the room hummed with tension, with power waiting to be unleashed.

  “I request that you give the Lethe Stone which you retrieved from the mortal world into my keeping,” the Vyldretning continued formally.

  Tess felt the weight of all their eyes. An incongruent thought flitted through her mind: what would happen if she said no? She almost chuckled at the notion, but instead she drew a deep breath and replied in the same measured tone, “I recognize your request, High Queen, and I willingly give you the Lethe Stone.” Tess unfastened the flap of her belt pouch as she continued. “I trust in your wisdom in its use, and I make no further claim of ownership upon it.”

  The Caedbranr and the voices of all the past Bearers within it hummed in approval as Tess slid the cool, smooth Lethe Stone into her palm. It sat upon her flattened hand, looking no more powerful than a stone polished smooth by a river, gleaming whitely in the firelight. Tess realized that she’d be glad to be rid of its weight at her belt. She walked forward until she stood only a hand’s breadth away from the table. Her skin prickled at the nearness of the Unseelie Princess; Tess didn’t know what unsettled her more, the scars upon the Princess’s blue-pale skin, or her deathly stillness.

  Vell matched her movement. They stood and gazed at each other for a moment, the Bearer and the High Queen. Everyone else in the room held their breath and all was silent, the air heavy with expectation. Tess extended her hand, the Lethe Stone in her palm, her other hand crossed beneath as though she were receiving Communion at Mass. The red and pearly white of the scars on her palms and wrists looked delicate and almost beautiful compared to the savage black lines on the Princess’s face.

  Again, the Vyldretning mirrored Tess’s motion, holding her own empty palm out. With her left hand, Tess picked up the Lethe Stone with two fingers, held it aloft for all to see, and then placed it ceremonially in the High Queen’s palm. A shudder rippled through the Vyldretning’s Three. Tess let her hands drift back to her sides, fighting the urge to stare at the Unseelie Princess. At the transfer of the Lethe Stone, the Sword’s power had settled a bit, still whirling in her chest but not pressing against her ribs as though it wanted to break free.

  “I thank you for your willing gift,” the Vyldretning said, her golden eyes finding Tess’s for an instant.

  Tess knew that later they’d speak as old friends, not as the High Queen and the Bearer, but now was not the time to give in to grief and rage. She nodded once more but said nothing, unsure of the next step in this choreographed formality.

  “And I ask that you grant us solitude for this ritual,” Vell added almost gently.

  Tess expected to feel the sting of rejection or exclusion, but she only felt a wash of relief, followed by a vague feeling of guilt that she somehow didn’t want to be a part of whatever was going to happen next. She looked at Liam. Her brother gave her a nod of his own, reassuring her that she’d hear the details later, if she wanted, and that he would make sure Vell was tended to properly.

  With that reassurance, Tess turned before she looked at Calliea or Finnead. She suspected that Finnead’s gaze would have been fixed on Andraste, and she wasn’t ready to face the haunted grief that she knew shadowed Calliea’s eyes, so she stepped through the wolf tapestry and gave a shuddering sigh on the other side. Luca turned. He’d been braiding Nehalim’s mane, the faehal flicking his ears contentedly at the attention.

  “They don’t need me,” she said in response to Luca’s inquiring look. Her voice shook and she swallowed, suddenly very aware of the smell that clung to her. Fire and death. “I just gave the Lethe Stone to Vell. That’s all.”

  “You make it sound so simple,” said Luca. He folded her into his arms and kissed the top of her head. His voice rumbled through her as she laid her cheek against his chest. “Life is not simple, anganhjarta. Especially not the life of the Bearer.”

  Tess felt her throat tightening. She didn’t want to cry here in the hallway, and she had the suspicion that if they remained here they might hear or feel some of what was about to happen in the High Queen’s quarters, and she wasn’t sure that she wanted that either. She pushed gently away from Luca’s broad chest, blinking hard. “Let’s take Nehalim back to the paddock.”

  He didn’t reply but slid his hand into hers, and his silent support almost undid her right then. Nehalim snorted and began retracing his steps down the passageway. Tess gulped down a few breaths, but the tears in her eyes spilled over. She dashed them away with her other hand. Luca pretended not to see and that gave her the time to compose herself before they reached the busier main passages.

  Kianryk loped past them and wove under Nehalim’s hooves in a display of liquid grace. The faehal shook his head as though to reprimand the wolf for showing off. Tess smiled against the ache building in her chest. The adrenaline of the battle and the rescue operation in the courtyard, buttressed by the gallop through the city with Finnead, ebbed away, leaving her cold and sad. The rising hum of industrious activity wrapped around them when they reached the common area at the entrance of the cathedral. Small groups of Vyldgard – no, Tess realized, Vyldgard and Seelie – stood at intervals, each group waiting assignment of tasks from one of the leaders standing near the entrance to the healing hall.

  Nehalim stopped and shook himself thoroughly, looking at Tess with his intelligent eyes. She rubbed his favorite spot between his ears and he flicked his tail in pleasure. Kianryk bounded out through the open doors. When Tess glanced back toward the churning industry at the entrance of the healing ward, two familiar figures had detached themselves and now approached: Moira, her sea-anemone hair swaying as she walked, and a Valkyrie whose name Tess couldn’t immediately remember, the one with the white eye and scar across her face from the battle over the City.

  “Trillian. Moira,” Luca greeted the two women.

  Tess could have kissed him. Well, she always wanted to kiss him, she amended silently, but in that moment she felt incredibly grateful for not only his strength but also his perceptive support. Somehow he’d picked up that she didn’t remember Trillian’s name, and he smoothly stepped in without a second thought.

  “Luca,” said Moira with a nod.

  “Lady Bearer,” said Trillian, touching her forehead in a sign of obeisance that some in the Vyldgard had carried over from their time in the Seelie Court.

  Tess acknowledged them with a nod. “I hear that we have you to thank for destroying Mab’s weapons.”

  “Thea helped,” said Trillian. “She was brilliant with her rune-crafting, as always. And Moira here wasn’t bad either for her first time in the air.”

  To Tess’s surprise, a faint blush rose in Moira’s cheeks at the praise from the seasoned Valkyrie.

  “I’m sure it was an exciting first ride,” Tess said to Moira.

  “Exciting,” agreed Moira, “but also terrifying.” Her eyes darkened. “And sad.”

  “Look here,” said Trillian with sudden fierceness, looking between Tess and Moira, “Gray wouldn’t want us to hang our heads in sorrow. She would want us to celebrate her life and her spirit and her warrior ways!”

  Moira visibly straightened at Trillian’s words, clenching her jaw.

  “I’m going to ask,” said Tess, even as her heart constricted, “because I…I want to know. How did it happen?” She remembered the first time she’d laid eyes on Gray. She’d been bedraggled and covered in black soot from a close encounter with the dragon they’d later hunt and kill with the newly baptized Vyldgard. Gray had been leading a Seelie patrol through the Borderlands. She’d been shining and golden, beautiful as a statue of Athena. The others riding in her patrol had looked at her with a mixture of affection and respect tinged with just a hint of awe.

  Trillian answered. “She was hit by one of the orbs head-on.”

  Tess felt like she’d be sick again as she imagined one of th
e darkly sparking weapons and thought about what it would do to a winged faehal and rider. She swallowed down the bitterness at the back of her throat.

  “It was…sudden,” Moira said in a tight voice. “One moment she was there, fighting with us. The next she was…gone.”

  “Gone,” repeated Tess. The word echoed hollowly through her head. It seemed too great a thing to grasp. She dully remembered that this was how it always felt when a friend died, and then another pang of sorrow hit her at the fact that she’d had enough friends die to know that.

  “Gone,” said Trillian grimly. The one-eyed Valkyrie raised her chin. “But never forgotten, and always held in our hearts.” She pounded her chest with a closed fist. Moira nodded and repeated the gesture. Tess touched her own hand to her heart.

  “We made Mab pay,” said Moira, her eyes flashing, “but not nearly enough.”

  “Should have killed one of her Three,” growled Trillian.

  “One of her Three is in the mortal world,” said Tess. “The other two were there with her?”

  Moira nodded. “We saw them from aloft. Put arrows in both of ‘em, but they’ll probably survive.”

  “I knew one of them once,” said Tess. “Donovan is his name. He was…he is a good Knight. A good friend.”

  Moira raised one eyebrow skeptically. “You’re certain you still call him a friend when he’s one of Mab’s puppets?”

  “Do you think he had a choice?” Tess replied, a bit of heat in her voice. Did no one else understand Mab’s terrible power?

  “I’d sooner die than serve a ruler like Mab,” said Trillian, her voice low and fierce.

  “But what if she wouldn’t let you die? What if you were bound to your Queen by blood oath, your free will circumvented?”

  “Sounds like you’re trying to make excuses for someone who helped Mab kill Gray,” said Moira, hooking her thumbs into the waistband of her pants and looking at Tess with a hard, glittering gaze.

  “No,” Tess said immediately, shaking her head. She felt her throat tighten and this time she let the tears come. “I grieve for Gray just as you do. But revenge for her death should be focused on Mab, not any of her people.”

  “A Queen’s Three are her closest assets,” murmured Trillian. “They are pieces in this game of strategy.”

  “They are also living, breathing beings with minds and hearts of their own,” replied Tess. “Just as Gray was.”

  Moira looked away at that, but Trillian held Tess’s gaze.

  “Death is the price of war,” Trillian said. Her single eye gleamed. “And revenge.”

  Luca touched Tess’s shoulder in silent appeal. She took a deep breath and knew that she wouldn’t convince the Valkyrie that Donovan wasn’t evil, no matter how long she argued or what examples she used. She didn’t scrub away the trace of tears down her cheeks. Let them see that she wept for Gray too.

  “Tess,” said Luca quietly as a breeze swept through the hall, a playful slip of air that plucked at their clothes and kissed their skin with the gentle warmth of a lazy summer afternoon. Nehalim snorted and shook his head, pawing at the marble floor. Tess put a hand on his silken neck, turning toward the great doors. The white faehal whinnied in greeting as Ailin walked gracefully through the doors, and then Queen Titania swept into the cathedral.

  Despite the fact they were Vyldgard now, both Moira and golden-haired Trillian bowed their heads in respect at the Seelie Queen’s approach. Tess wondered where their harsh words against Queens were now.

  Petty thoughts beget petty actions, murmured the Sword in the back of her head, but its androgynous voice was tinged with amusement.

  Titania wore a tunic in a delicate green, the color of new spring leaves, paired with a split riding skirt in a shade of deep, vibrant blue. As she walked, her chestnut boots and black breeches flashed now and again through the slits in her skirt. The Seelie Queen’s golden hair wrapped her head in a braided crown, held in place with gold pins crafted skillfully to look like blooming flowers and twining vines. Ailin’s shirt matched the blue of Titania’s skirt, and the deep color emphasized his pale skin and ghostly hair, the effect of giving Titania his life-force while she had been imprisoned in her Walker form by Malravenar.

  Tess nodded respectfully to Titania. She didn’t bow as Trillian and Moira did. Luca gave a deeper nod, but he didn’t bow either. Titania smiled beatifically and rested one slender hand briefly on Nehalim’s nose. The warhorse shuddered in ecstasy at her touch.

  “Lady Bearer,” said the Seelie Queen, her blue eyes warm as she directed her smile toward Tess.

  “Queen Titania,” replied Tess.

  Titania shifted her gaze to Moira and Trillian. “Ailin tells me it was the Valkyrie’s valiant effort that halted Mab’s attack.”

  Trillian nodded. “We flew against Mab.”

  “My own warriors were making ready to attack in defense of the Vyldgard, but then we received word of your victory,” said the Seelie Queen smoothly.

  Tess wondered if Titania had really intended to risk her own people’s lives to defend the Vyldgard against Mab. Her doubt in the Seelie Queen’s words jarred her.

  “It was not a victory without cost,” said Moira.

  “None are,” replied Titania softly. “Please pass my deepest sympathies to your Queen on the loss of one of her Three.” Something like genuine sorrow filled the beautiful Seelie woman’s eyes. “Gray was beloved by the Seelie Court as well as the Vyldgard, and she was a cousin of sort to me.”

  “Her death will be avenged,” said Trillian.

  “I do not doubt it,” replied Titania. She turned her gaze back to Tess. “And that is why I come to speak with you, Lady Bearer.”

  “Would it be best to go to my quarters, or another place of your choosing?” Tess asked. The hum of activity in the antechamber had slowed with Titania’s entrance, but it was beginning to build again.

  “My intentions are no secret,” replied Titania.

  Tess nodded in assent and waited for the Seelie Queen to continue.

  “This attack on the Vyldgard by Mab and her murder of Gray Queenscousin has illuminated the need for swift and decisive action,” said Titania.

  Both the Valkyrie straightened. Moira sucked in a breath and a hungry glint surfaced in Trillian’s eye.

  “The Vyldretning is restoring the Princess Andraste,” continued Titania, “and so now I will lay my contribution upon the altar of preparation for this war.” She paused. “I intend to open one of the Lesser Gates in the White City, so that you, Lady Bearer, may pass into the mortal world.”

  The Caedbranr hummed in appreciation at Titania’s pronouncement. Tess felt her heart jump in excitement. Opening a Lesser Gate would completely change the game – she’d be able to pass between the Fae and mortal worlds without begging the Queens for help. “And what do you ask of me in return?”

  “Your assistance in opening the Gate would be greatly appreciated,” replied Titania smoothly, “and then I would ask that you or one with you passes a message to my Named Knight in the mortal world.”

  “I will gladly carry a message to Niall,” said Tess. It was almost too easy to agree to Titania’s conditions.

  “And help him, if you can,” added the Seelie Queen in a softer voice.

  “Is he in trouble?” Tess asked.

  “My connection to him is limited by the veil between the worlds,” said Titania. “In opening the Lesser Gate, I will know more.”

  Tess thought for a moment, turning the situation over in her mind like a rock picked up from the shore of a river, examining all its facets. She couldn’t see any true downside to agreeing to help Titania. Vell didn’t need her help in restoring Andraste, and her role as the Bearer pointed her more toward the balance between the mortal and Fae worlds. She needed to return to the mortal world anyway, to finish the bone sorcerer, if Niall hadn’t already. The Caedbranr followed her thoughts and voiced no objection. She looked at Luca. He nodded, and she knew that he would come with her once a
gain into the mortal world.

  She turned back to Titania. “I’ll help. When will you open the Gate?”

  Titania smiled again, looking less beatific and more predatory. “No time like the present, Lady Bearer.”

  The Seelie Queen turned away and began walking toward the great doors.

  “I’ll take Nehalim to the paddock,” Trillian said.

  “I’m coming with you,” said Moira at the same time.

  Tess looked at them both. She addressed Trillian first. “Thank you. Don’t let him convince you that he needs more than a quick rubdown. This was barely a warm-up for him.”

  Nehalim snorted.

  To Moira, Tess said, “Do you need Vell’s permission?”

  Moira ducked her head. “I spoke to the Vyldretning about my desire to go into the mortal world a few days ago. She told me that she had no issue with my travelling as a part of the next expedition.”

  Tess nodded. “Very well. Are you ready now?”

  “I’m always ready, Lady Bearer,” replied Moira.

  “When you return, we’ll make you a full Valkyrie,” Trillian told Moira as she walked forward to pat Nehalim’s shoulder. “Come on then, you magnificent beast.”

  Nehalim shook his head but followed Trillian, lipping her hair and skewing the cord that held her eye-patch in place. She didn’t bother to right it, instead chuckling and pulling it off.

  “We’d better catch up to the Queen then,” said Tess, stretching her legs to follow Titania. She wondered briefly if she should wait so that she could speak to Vell, not to mention her brother.

  You are the Bearer, said the Caedbranr firmly in her mind.

  She took a deep breath and nodded. “Right. Let’s go.”

  Luca grinned at her and Kianryk flowed down the steps beside them, eliciting a gasp of surprise from Moira. The sun shone brightly down on them as they followed the gliding form of the Seelie Queen into the White City toward the Lesser Gate.

  Chapter 39

  “Look, do what you need to do. You need to get out of here. I can’t leave them.” Vivian’s eyes flashed with a look that Ross only knew from the battlefield back in Afghanistan. And then her friend, red hair blazing, raised her sword and ran toward Molly, who was advancing on Niall’s prone form.