Silhouetted in the thin line of light beneath the door of her cell a group of rats advanced over the cold stones. The enormous king rat, his shiny brown fur and button-black eyes giving him the look of a child’s toy, sniffed at the tips of her toes, crusty with blood from the last round of torture.
His soft whiskers brushed along the fresh scabs of her nail beds with the gentlest of touches. Nothing soft had touched her in the small bits of memory she had left and she was tempted to be grateful for the caress, no matter how painful.
But self-preservation still lurked inside. She urged her foot to move. Told it to move. Finally she yelled at it as loud as she could, her voice barely scraping out a sound. The rat opened his mouth. Her frantic calls echoed inside her head but the damn foot refused to budge. Sharp teeth glinted in the dim light before sinking deep into her big toe. Hot, white pain shot into her nerves and fresh blood spurted from the vulnerable nail bed adding the warm smell of fresh iron to the rank smell of the cell. The line of rats surged forward. Desperation burbled in her throat.
Keys jingled outside her cell and the light flickered under the door. Her attackers fled. Relief that she wasn’t going to be eaten alive washed through her, followed fast by the feeling she’d almost gotten used to living with—fear.
And then the door swung open. She blinked hard at the brightness, tears clouding her vision.
A tall gaunt figure in a black cloak stepped into the room. As he entered, the impression of long, lean, elegant limbs moved under the silk. He lifted his head. White bone and holes for eye sockets stared at her from under the black hood.
Joy chortled up, surging in a silent laugh she had no voice to make. Her prince had finally come for her. Death was a welcome visitor.
He reached up, tugging the hood back and cowling it at his neck. And the lovely illusion of Death’s grinning skull vanished, revealing the hated aristocratic cheekbones and green skin of the elf queen’s chief advisor, Lord Haddon. “Hand me that torch.”
Her joy curdled away. Death would not be coming today. Once again her Gift of second sight had failed her. While Lord Haddon would likely end up being the death of her, he wouldn’t kill her yet. He’d worked too hard at keeping her alive throughout all the sessions of torture. Even though she’d worked just as hard at dying.
The light came in and she squeezed her eyes shut before forcing them open. Getting to see what was coming for her was one of the few things she had left under her control. Beyond the door, the troll jailer bowed and scraped, cringing as close to the wall as his large figure could manage. There was a dramatic swirl of purple, and the Queen of the Black Court herself came into the cell.
Cassie’s Gift of sight, unpredictable due to the torture, again kicked into action. Most people would see one woman, one aspect of the queen, but not her. She perceived all three at once walking impossibly through the narrow door. The queen in the center was a tall redhead, her fashionable evening gown cut away at the front, exposing her long bare legs and a pair of stiletto heels with sharp metal toes. She pouted at the sight of Cassie lying on the floor. The queen on the left was pale with dark shadows under her deep-set eyes. Her long, spiral curls wove around her head in a Medusa dance, each fat black section of hair coiling independently around her head. In stark white contrast the live skulls that made up her necklace gibbered and chattered excitedly, their empty eye sockets gleaming malevolence.
But it was the queen on the right, the one few had ever seen, who seemed the strongest to Cassie’s inner sight.
The faery queen on the right was bent over, some would say frail, but Cassie knew better. She was ancient, with grey hair as matted as Cassie’s own. Deep wrinkles carved into her skin. One bleary whitened eye looked off to the side, while the other, more blue than white, targeted her own eyes.
Fear seared the marrow of Cassie’s spine.
If she could have imitated the troll and pressed further into the wall, she would have but she still couldn’t make her worn-out muscles move.
Her Gift shut down. The three figures wavered, then coalesced into one central woman. Finally taking the appearance of the queen in the center, Aeval, the youngest and nicest aspect, pulled back her metal-toed shoe and kicked Cassie in the thigh.
Raw pain shot through her and one of the many wounds she’d forgotten she had oozed blood.
“Bring her, Haddon.” The queen’s voice grated on her ears. “I will have her show me where my son is, show me his battle plans for the morrow.”
“My queen, we have tried. She will not perform and she is alive by only a narrow margin. If you take her back to the torture chamber, I fear we will not be bringing her back.” The green man folded his arms together, the fingers of one hand tapping on the elbow of the other. “After all, she’s only human.”
Torture chamber.
Black overwhelmed Cassie. She fought it back, pulling energy from some last reservoir. She couldn’t pass out, she had to fight. Memories of the chamber where the queen had hung her from chains, lashed her with whips, and enclosed her in smaller and smaller boxes, pushed any and all thoughts but one out of her head.
No!
Somewhere, somehow Haddon’s persuasive oily voice continued to talk and the queen’s piercing arguments interrupted, but Cassie didn’t hear any of it. She didn’t come back until the queen leaned over her, her dark shadow blocking out the light.
Cassie flinched.
“She moved,” the queen said.
“Good, she’s still alive. This might work. Do it.”
The queen began to glow, the hazy purple light of her magic encased her, growing brighter and brighter in intensity. Cassie narrowed her eyes to a slit. The queen lifted her fingers and the light stretched spidery strands toward her.
Her blood rushed hot and then cold with horror.
She couldn’t move. She thought the flinch was all she’d had but then the light touched her face, seared her skin, caressed her hair with its burning touch. Her world became a dazzling burst of bright purple pain scalding everywhere and she curved tighter into her fetal position, every muscle screaming as loud as the screams in her head.
She hurt. Hurt more than she knew she could. Her Gift kicked in, a last spasm of protection, too late. She could feel Death in the shadowy corner, struggling to get to her, unable to get past the light. Her soul’s body able to move at last, broke free of her own wasted and injured one, and she reached metaphysical fingers out to him. But the purple light roped her back, driving him away. Her soul was forced back into her aching body and all her memories, the ones she had left, the ones she had hidden even from herself, began to bleed away.
Panic raced through her, pushing back even the pain. She couldn’t forget everything. Desperately she gathered the memories. The ones she couldn’t remember, the ones she valued more than life, even the ones that included the queen and the unknown days of torture. She gathered them all and shoved them into a small sacred space, hiding them from the queen’s magic. Hiding them even from herself inside the form of a clear globe with blurry images, that shrank down to the size of a tiny pea and lay hidden inside her curled fist.
They could take her mind, they could take her body, they could even steal her Gift. But not these, her memories.
The vision of Death grinned at her. She caught his sly smile and held it. And the only thing she took with her into the black purple chasm that swallowed her whole, was the knowledge that her prince waited for her on the other side.
THE DARK GREY MISTS of a portal swirled and pulsed in the center of the clearing. Bosco took a step back and shielded his face from the dust and debris whipped up by the portal’s appearance. He knew better than to stand too close. Too close to a portal and its gravitational pull could suck you inside. You could be lost forever.
A slender figure, swathed in a long dark blue cloak scattered with silvery stars, stepped out of the stormy mists and into the pool of late afternoon sunlight.
“You’re late,” he said. The gaping mou
th of the portal snapped closed leaving nothing but the deceptive quiet of the Dark Forest on a warm summer afternoon.
“You’re an insolent boy.” Her smooth contralto voice held an edge of irritation. “Be careful or you won’t have a job. I can find someone else to spy on the queen for me.”
He snorted and snapped a twig off a bush. “Even if you could find someone within the Black Court who wasn’t terrified of pissing off Her Majesty, you’d still have to take them into your confidence.”
“You’re saying you’re trustworthy?”
“I’m saying you’ve already got me half paid off.” He twirled the twig in his fingers, stripping off the tiny leaves one by one. “Why lose on an investment?”
“Why indeed?”
He couldn’t see under the deep folds of her hood, but he imagined the speculation in her eyes as she evaluated her options. He’d never seen her, not once in the last ten years as her spy in the Black Court. He didn’t need to see her. She paid on time and in a currency he could use. Power. Who cared what she looked like when he was close to achieving his goal.
“We’re nearly there.” Her shoulders under the cloak were tense with urgency. “The winds of magic tell me something has shifted, the prophecy is in motion.”
“Your prophecy is crap.” He tossed the twig away. “It’s been years since that prophecy first appeared and the Black Queen’s never come close to falling from the throne. Do you really think it will happen now?”
“You, my lovely boy, you are going to make it happen. You’re my ace in the hole, my spy, my leverage. With the power you’ve already been paid, your Gift is strong. Now, more than ever, we need your special abilities.”
“Why the urgency, if the prophecy is going to take her down anyway?”
She didn’t answer at first, and he wondered how far she really trusted him. “She has stolen something that could turn the tide of the prophecy—or bring it to fruition.” She stepped closer than normal, the agitated edges of her aura brushing against him.“I need you to steal it for me.”
“You want me to steal from the Black Queen?” He tightened his shields and the buzzing went away. “Are you crazy? What could possibly be so important that I’d risk my life?”
“Her mirror.”
“Really?” He raised an eyebrow. “Your information is out of date. She had a nearly useless old man acting as her mirror, a human psychic. But she hasn’t replaced him since she killed him in a fit of rage. The Gift of second sight is hard to find, rare among the humans. Rarer still among the fae. She won’t be replacing her mirror any time soon.”
“She’s stolen another mirror, right out from under the Prince and the rebels. A human Gypsy witch with a strong psychic Gift. I suspect it’s why she’s moved away from the Court and created this new summer retreat of hers.”
“And you want me to go there? To the summer castle?” He shook his head. “No way.”
He’d been to the summer castle and watched the idiots of the court enter and leave. He’d talked to them afterwards. Not one remembered anything of substance. Not one thought they’d done anything other than drink and fuck the days away. If this was the job he should find out if one of his other contacts was hiring. He nearly had enough power to head north, but a smidgen more would make him confident of his success. Maybe Lord Smirden was hiring. He was always good for a job.
“You’d have easy access.”
He snorted. “There’s a spell over the entire thing. No one who goes in remembers anything of what’s happened. It’s like the land of the lotus eaters. I’ll be useless.”
“You?” He caught the surprise in her voice. “You’re never useless. True, the spell covers the front gate, but she’s spread it too thin. There are gaps. You’ll figure out something.”
He had to admit, he was intrigued. To slip under the queen’s spell and find something she no doubt had guarded away from everyone. It would be a challenge.
And he loved a challenge.
“It might be possible to avoid going through the front and therefore avoid the spell.” He knew it was. He’d checked out the outside, when he’d been there. He knew he could get in. But, this was a fool’s errand, one that could get him killed. A thrill of danger brushed his skin.
He shouldn’t go. It was close to the time he had to head up north. He’d waited far too long, nearly a hundred years, to miss this appointment. But, if he had just a little more power he’d be stronger. And every little advantage he had when he went north would be worth its weight in gold.
“The last mirror was kept under lock and key.”
“She has the witch. Check the dungeons, her private apartments. I know the queen. She’ll keep her close.”
“I’ll be risking my life.” Did he really need this job? He had more power now than he’d ever had. But was it enough? He’d sworn a hundred years ago that until he had enough power to take on the queens and kings of Underhill, he’d do anything. His deadline approached and this would give him an advantage. And he could use every drop of advantage he could beg, borrow, or steal.
“How long do you think it will take? I have plans of my own.”
“It won’t take long. Two days? Three at the most. The castle isn’t that large.” She leaned in closer. “And, Bosco...I’ll make it worth your while.”
“How much?” He had two weeks. If he could do this job in one or two days he’d still be able to get to the Court of the Winter Queen by the summer solstice. He wasn’t reneging on his word.
She chuckled. “Twice your usual payment.”
A deep excitement reverberated through him, but he was careful to keep it out of his expression. No one must know why he needed this much power. Or that he even had it. If the White Queen found out before he’d had a chance to use it, he’d be dead. And so would his opportunity to redeem himself. He’d only get one shot.
“Fine. I’ll find your psychic and deliver her to you. But this is the last job.” He frowned. “What are you going to do with her? A human witch with that kind of Gift will be sought after by all the courts.”
Her voice froze over. “Never you mind, boy.”
He got the message. She’d use the witch herself. Or kill her. Either way, a weapon like that couldn’t be allowed to fall back into the hands of the Black Queen. She’d make sure of it. He didn’t know much about his employer, but he did know the most important thing. The only thing she lived for was the fall of the Black Queen. Everything else was a tool for the job. Including him.
He stepped back, expecting her to open another portal and leave. But she hesitated, cocking her head under her cloak. “I’ve never asked you, Bosco, what are you going to do once you’ve achieved a lord’s share of power?”
The very air in the clearing seemed full of possibilities. A breeze blew through, blowing her starry cloak aside revealing her narrow feet encased in tall black boots.
What would he do?
What wouldn’t he do?
After he’d gone back to the Winter Court and done what he needed to, he’d be wealthy with power and free for the first time in his life. She had no idea how much power he actually had socked away. It was far more than only a lord’s share. It was enough power to rival the strongest of the courts, the kings and queens of Underhill.
What would he do? Well he sure as hell wouldn’t be wasting his time playing these kinds of games. He’d had enough of the courts, the queens, the politics.
He winked. “What all the lords do—whatever I damn well please.”
She laughed. “Maybe you’re not as young as you seem.”
He had no idea whether she was a hundred, a thousand, or ten thousand years older than him. All he knew was that she’d promised him enough power to guarantee his success. And for that she could do anything, be anyone she fucking cared to be.
“As the Queen’s Fool, once I’m in the party I’ll blend in.” He gestured north at the Black Queen’s brand-new summer digs. “But with the spell over the castle it’s likely I won�
��t be able to to communicate with you. You’ll have to trust me.”
“Darling boy, I certainly don’t trust you. That’s why I brought this.” She extended a hand out from under her cloak and unfolded her fingers. Centered in her palm was a large silver ring set with a smooth icy blue stone.
“Moonstone?” He examined the ring with his sight. “It doesn’t seem to have any magical properties. How is this going to help?”
“Don’t be deceived. It has magic, ancient magic. It’s from the old world, from where we lived before we were here.” She made a wide sweeping gesture indicating the forest, but he knew she meant Underhill itself. Few talked about the world before, the world the elvatian had nearly destroyed before finding the bridge to Underhill and the portals that linked the worlds.
Could she be that old? A chill crept through him and for once he wished he could see under her cloak.
He bowed low. “My lady.”
“My lady,” she sneered. “You’ve never been one for reverence. Don’t start now.” She thrust out the deceptively simple piece of jewelry. “Take it.” He stared at it, as if her palm held a spider. She laughed, and the challenge in it was obvious. “Take it, boy. It won’t bite.”
He swallowed and hesitated before picking up the ring. She needed him. He needed her. Sometimes that was all the trust you had in the world. Maybe it was all the trust there ever was. He picked it up and hefted it in his palm. It was hard and cold and weighed far more than it should.
“I have its twin,” she said. “It will open up the moonbeams and you’ll be able to talk to me at night. Just remember, it draws power from the moon, so I won’t hear you in the dark of the month, nor will it be very strong for the few days before and after the dark. Put it on.”
He hesitated. He’d trusted her, as much as he trusted anyone, but he knew more than anyone that allies could become enemies, if the wind blew wrong.
She laughed, the bell-like sound echoing over the clearing. “Afraid?”
“Only a fool isn’t afraid.” If she was as old and as powerful as she implied, she could have killed him ten times over. Instead, she offered him more and more power, and now what looked to be a priceless elvatian artifact. He’d taken far too many risks and gone too far down this road to back off now.
Cursed: A Fae Fantasy Romance (Fae Magic Book 2) Page 29
