The Immortal Queen

by Jennifer L. Hart

Peace and a happily ever after for everyone else. Funny, though I always knew Aiden was the altruistic sort, I never imagined he would sacrifice me. And here I’d been worried about using him.

  I pause in a shadowed alcove and press my back against the wall, covering my hand with my mouth so my distress doesn’t draw any attention.

  I’ve never been so alone. Or so afraid.

  Dinner with Killers

  Wardon readily agrees to give Aiden not only a horse, but an armed guard of trolls to accompany him. “The Valley of Lost Souls is on the edge between my lands

  and Brigit’s. There are new skirmishes popping up every hour.” He explains as he pours me a glass of sparkling white wine on the patio outside his study. “We wouldn’t want anything to happen to your...companion.”

  My smile is tight but my hand remains steady as I take the glass. “Are there any

  serious contenders?”

  “Rodrick’s daughter has the best claim.” He says this as though I should recognize the name. “And he has both the magic and the forces to help her hold it. There’s an immense amount of pressure from the court to have the new monarch settled before Samhain.”

  “Rodrick was Brigit’s consort?”

  “Yes, and my spies have told me he’s been meeting with Soladin.” Wardon taps a long finger against his glass. “You have no idea the level of threat the Lord of the Land poses to us.”

  “Is he really so dangerous?”

  Wardon nods. “More so than any who have held the green throne before him. He is beloved by many of the Seelie fey.”

  “People liking him is a problem?”

  “It is when what he says contradicts the way things are done. He’s already shirked the tradition of bedding noble females. His male lover is his sole consort and he refuses to take another.” Wardon’s tone implies he thinks fidelity is one step above defecating at the breakfast table.

  I make a noncommittal noise, then ask “But your offer indicates that you want to change some of the long-standing traditions, too.”

  “Out of necessity for our subjects.” He clinks his glass against mine.

  I sniff at the glass.

  “It’s not poisoned, I assure you.”

  “I never thought it was.” My face might crack from all the phony smiles.

  The wine is light and crisp on my tongue, the bubbles bursting with little pops of fruity flavor. “It’s very good. Thank you.”

  A fey with iridescent silver scales and gill slits at the side of her throat pauses in the doorway. “Dinner is ready, my king.”

  “Very good. Send word to her majesty’s companion that a riding party will meet him in the stables to accompany him on his journey.”

  “Yes, sire.”

  Wardon offers me his arm and, setting down my glass, I curve my hand around his elbow and allow him to lead me to the dining room, footsteps light, heart heavy.

  I still can’t get my head around Aiden’s abrupt change in behavior. Had Wardon threatened him, or me? With a bit of distance, it occurs to me that he hadn’t tried to communicate through our bond. The power thrumming off the immortal being at my side thickens the air around as, as though we are walking through viscous liquid. Even if I hadn’t been worried about the potential side effects of magic use, I don’t have anywhere near the kind of control he does.

  The servant, who has arms but no legs or feet that I can see is obviously well trained. She makes no noise as she moves through the hall. Occasionally I see the gill slits at her neck flutter. Does she breathe through them, the way a fish does, even while on dry land?

  I wish I had the freedom to ask without belying my ignorance.

  The corridor ends, the scaled servant bobs a perfect curtsey and departs. Two liveried fey, one with horns, one with a long birdlike beak step forward, pivot at a ninety-degree angle and bow to us. Wardon inclines his head and they fall back into place, each grasping a handle on the opaque glass door. They pull them open and stand aside as Wardon leads me into the grand dining hall.

  There are no hints of the sea beyond the door. A silver candelabra sits in the middle of a massive mahogany table. The matching chairs are padded with rich brocade cushions. Gilt edge mirrors and paintings hang from smooth walls. Some of the paintings are seascapes, others of dignified looking royals. Wardon’s ancestors, judging from the strong resemblance he bears to them.

  Silver plates gleam in the candlelight, crystal water goblets sparkled. Gold utensils sit on navy napkins. The forks have three prongs apiece, like miniature tridents. Above us, the silver and gold dome is cracked open to the jewel-toned evening sky. Thirteen crows circle ominously as though something is dead below. The birds unnerve me for some reason and before I can think about it, I send a gust of wind to disperse them.

  “Impressive, is it not?” If Wardon noted my magic use, he didn’t comment on it.

  My head is pounding, my latest side effect of magical use. I really need to stop calling on my abilities unless it’s an emergency. What were we talking about again? Oh, the room.

  “I’ve never seen anything like it.” It isn’t a lie. Everywhere I look, unchecked opulence abounds. Precious metals, rich wood and fabric. A monument to vanity, a giant pat on the back for his royal highness.

  An image of the oyster seller in the courtyard below flashed in my mind. One of these forks would feed him for a year. It’s amazing the place hasn’t been overrun by the starving Seelie.

  Maybe that’s why Wardon keeps the trolls around? For protection?

  The king pulls out a chair at one end of the table for me. I sit. It’s been almost thirty-six hours since I ate, though I have no appetite. What else can I do? I want to give Aiden plenty of time to clear out before I go back to our room for the night.

  My room, I mentally correct.

  Servants appear, carrying platters of fish, baskets of bread, steaming bowls of vegetables in a lemon butter sauce. They line up before the king first, dishing up the choicest fish, the greenest greens before trekking down the length of the ridiculously long table to me. Wardon cocks a brow when I wave away the fish, but doesn’t comment. Instead of setting the remaining portion of food on the table, the servants move off to the wall, place each dish under a matching silver cloche, then stands back to the wall ready in case we ask for seconds.

  “Ah, there you are, my dear.”

  Wardon stands, pushing his chair back and turning to the door to the opposite side of the hall. I follow the direction of his gaze in time to see the purple skinned fey, the one who’d been flirting with Aiden earlier, sweep into the room.

  Her emerald green gown shimmers as she walks, round hips swinging with every step. The color goes well with the unusual hue of her skin as well as her dark hair. I don’t miss Wardon’s appreciative slow scan of her lush curves, the way the thin fabric seems to mold itself to her every asset.

  Ah, so that’s how it is. I recognize the look, it’s the one Aiden gave me when I first put on the fancy dress.

  I bite my lip to keep from frowning as a thought surfaces. Odd how he didn’t even seem to notice my skimpy nightwear during out last encounter.

  “Harmony, may I introduce Nicneven, Queen of the Shadow Throne and future ruler of the Unseelie Court. My dear, allow me to introduce Harmony Goldfeather, seer to the Gray Throne.”

  “We’ve met,” I say shortly.

  Wardon blinks, whether at the revelation or my tight tone, I have no idea. Harmony, for her part, offers a syrupy smile. “That’s right. You were the one with that delightful werewolf earlier. I envy you, traveling with him. You must have seen so many amazing things.” Her tone is low and husky, full of innuendo.

  “Not as many as you, I’d wager.” I spear a broccoli floret on the end of my golden fork and pop it into my mouth.

  Wardon appears pleased, as though he’s scored front row seats at a mud wrestling contest. “Harmony’s the first seer in over a millennium. It is a rare gift, one the ancient texts tell us only manifests in times of profo
und change. I was fortunate to hear about her before any of the other rulers and spirit her away to my castle by the sea.”

  “You are most clever, my king.” Harmony beckons the server with the fish forward and the man practically trips over his oversized furry feet to reach her side.

  “It’s the only gift a royal cannot claim from his subjects.” Wardon states. He’s not easy to read but I’m fairly certain this is wistfulness in his tone.

  “And one I wouldn’t wish on you, sire.” Harmony takes a delicate bite of fish. “The visions are most disturbing to one’s sleep. Sometimes I have trouble rising in the mornings due to insufficient rest.”

  “You see everything that is going to happen?” I ask, curious despite my dislike of her feline manner.

  She shakes her head, one dark curl falling over a bare purple shoulder. “The future isn’t written. It’s not like reading a page of a novel. Choices and decisions of key figures will lead to a more likely outcome.”

  “For example,” Wardon cuts in. “I asked Harmony what would happen if you consent to marry me. If we could successfully merge the courts into one solid ruling body.”

  “And?” I quirk an eyebrow, knowing her answer wouldn’t matter in my ultimate decision.

  “And I told his majesty that a marriage is the only way to unite the fair folk.”

  Harmony takes another of her delicate bites. I doubt she can taste anything, the portions on the end of her fork are all but invisible.

  “Was it also your guidance that led him to urge Brigit to kill me?” I fight to keep my tone even.

  Harmony raises a brow, but it is Wardon who answers. “Before her time. Harmony is around the same natural age as you are yourself, at least in this life. Harboring a grudge still, are we?”

  Ass muppet. “Hard not to take it personally when someone shows zero remorse in planning your death,” I say sweetly.

  Wardon throws back his head and laughs. It isn’t a pleasant sound. “Oh Nicneven, you do delight me so. Did you experience regret for those you bound to the Wild Hunt?”

  He has a point, but I refuse to give it to him. “So, it’s all forgive and forget, is it? Sorry, I’m not made that way.”

  Wardon sets his fork down. “Nor am I. You did terrible things in your last life, atrocious acts of war against the Seelie. A year before your untimely demise, there were raids on our fishing villages here along the coast. Seelie citizens lost their livelihoods, their homes. Some were raped, and murdered. You and I both held our respective courts at the time. I beseeched you to banish the fey responsible to the far side of the Veil, to exile them from Underhill. You refused to discipline the Unseelie, saying in a terse missive that ‘might makes right.’”

  His expression morphs as he speaks, a flash of rage appears on his face, the first genuine emotion I’ve seen from him.

  I stare at my plate to hide my ignorance even as I try to scour my fractured labyrinth of past life memories for proof that he’s telling me the truth, the way Nahini had taught me. Nothing surfaces. The lack leaves me to think that if I had heard about greedy Unseelie preying on Seelie fishing villages, it hadn’t been something I’d devoted time to contemplating. My throat tightens. I knew I’d been selfish in my last life but this...

  “Obviously you had sanctioned the raids,” Wardon continues, his face smoothing, his tone glib once more. “If not beforehand, then after. What choice was I left with other than to seek out the other Unseelie queen, the ruler of the Fire Throne? She wanted to help, was eager for an alliance, but could do nothing while you ruled at the same time as I. It was not my hand that killed you, Nicneven. I merely suggested you should be replaced by a queen with more compassion.”

  “And you thought Brigit would fit the bill?” I don’t bother to hide a snort. “That she had more compassion for the Unseelie than I did? How many did she slaughter in my household, how many stood in her path as she cut her way to me?”

  “Lost lives of the Unseelie are not my concern.” His tone is frigid. “Protecting my people is.”

  “And did the raids stop after my death?” I ask. Had it been worth it for him, to get in bed with Brigit?

  He picks up his water goblet, takes a sip, his gaze not meeting mine. “They’ve stopped now.”

  The trolls. That has to be why he employs them, to end raids. From what I saw in the courtyard, Wardon has only traded one problem for another.

  We finish dinner in relative silence. Harmony chatters a bit about unfamiliar names and places I’ve never been, but she’s nothing more than background noise. Distantly it occurs to me that out of the three of us, she’s the only one sitting here who hasn’t admitted to cold blooded murder.

  I barely eat, my stomach in knots over both of Wardon’s revelations. I need to talk to someone about all this, to find out if the ruler of the Gray Throne speaks the truth. Rape, murder, villages burned to the ground. Might makes right. In what universe? How could I have been so ambivalent? Even if they hadn’t been my people, they had been people. And yet I hadn’t spared them a second thought.

  At last, the king pushes back his chair and stalks down the table, offering me his arm. Silently, I take it. Harmony falls into line behind us.

  Wardon escorts me to the foot of the stairs. “I will take my leave of you, Nicneven.”

  I study him a moment. I don’t trust him, not at all. If anything, his tale made me even more wary of him. This is a being who won’t hesitate to decimate any obstacle in his path. If I refuse his marriage merger outright, he might again see me as only an enemy. And with my allies too far away to help, I can’t afford to have him turn on me.

  “Thank you for your hospitality,” I say instead.

  “Rest well.” He nods, his semi genial mask back in place. “Come, seer.”

  Harmony meets my gaze for just an instant, and then replaces me as the king’s arm candy.

  Slowly, I trudge up the stairs to my room. As awful as dinner had been, at least spending time with Wardon distracted me from my worry over Nahini, my heartache over Aiden.

  I reach the room and look around. A blue-green fire blazes in the hearth. Had a servant laid it in anticipation of my return? Or perhaps the room sensed the chill that sinks into my bones. I move toward it, hiking up the dress so I can sit down on the floor. Wood shifts and pops as it burns and I lose myself for an endless time in the dance of the flames.

  I MUST HAVE FALLEN asleep still staring at the fire because the touch rouses me. It’s light, like a butterfly’s wing, but insistent. My eyes pop open and in the smoldering light from the dying fire I see a figure looming over me in the dark room.

  I lunge upwards and clonk heads with the shape, having misjudged the distance between the two of us.

  “Ouch,” I say at the same time the other person cries out. The sound is feminine, though there’s no way to tell if the cry is one of pain or just astonishment.

  “What are you doing in here?” I hiss, rubbing lightly on the bump that is already forming on my forehead.

  “Trying to save both our necks.”

  The voice is familiar, though it’s more disgruntled than I’ve heard it so far. Harmony.

  I drop my hand, squinting at her in the darkness. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean,” she says, reaching out a hand and pulling me to my feet in a surprising show of strength. “That Wardon has your wolf imprisoned. Without his protection, you are completely vulnerable.”

  “Aiden?” I blink, trying to clear the fuzziness from my mind. “That can’t be right. He sent Aiden off after our other companion.”

  “No, he had the shifter he sent to convince you to wed him off.” Harmony says this as though I am a bit slow. “I warned him that your attachment to your wolf would keep you from accepting his suit.”

  My lips part. Of course, no wonder Aiden had been acting so oddly, encouraging me to accept the Seelie king. Because it hadn’t been him, just some shifter in disguise. When will I learn not to believe everything my eyes tell me in
Underhill? “So Wardon decided to clear the playing field of all competitors. Is Aiden all right? Is he hurt.”

  “I’m not sure.” The seer lets go of me and turns to the wardrobe. She flings back the doors and chucks a pair of leather pants in my direction. “Here, put these on.”

  “I don’t do dead animal pelts.” I toss them back to her.

  Though I can’t be sure, I’m vaguely aware that she rolls her eyes at me before stuffing the pants back into the wardrobe and shutting the door. “Then come over here and pick your own clothes. Something suitable for rough terrain.”

  My foot catches on the edge of a piece of furniture. “Ow. I can’t see my hand in front of my face in here.”

  Harmony snaps her fingers and the fire blazes to life. “Hurry up. The guards will be changing shifts soon. This is our only opportunity.”

  With the illumination I see that she’s wearing leather pants identical to the ones she flung my way, as well as a leather utility vest. The buttons start just below her cleavage and then stop above her naval so the vest flares to either side, exposing taut purple flesh. She wears hiking boots and her black hair has been slicked back into a thick rope.

  “Why are you helping me?” I ask.

  “I’m helping myself,” she counters. “The king has kept me within this castle for my entire life. I wish to be free.”

  Fey can’t lie. No immortal who passes through the gauntlet can either. But they can twist the truth, omit key facts until the listener believes they have heard something much different than what’s been said.

  I don’t trust Harmony not to lead me into a trap. For all I know she could be setting me up for Wardon to catch me sneaking away, and then demand her freedom as a reward. But if Aiden really has been imprisoned, I need to take the chance.

  After another moment of studying her wardrobe I think about what I want to wear, envisioning it in my mind’s eye before opening the wardrobe. The jeans are faded on the thigh and broken in, the tank top stretchy. The parka is long and baggy, with multiple deep pockets, but also waterproof. Good against the sea spray.