My breath caught in my throat at the sight of the metal queen. I’d never been in the presence of royalty before, and she carried herself as if she’d been born to her position. While she wasn’t beautiful, she sure wasn’t ugly. The queen’s jaw was square and her brow wide, her long steel-colored hair restrained by a narrow gold fillet before cascading down her shoulders. I wondered if that fillet was all that was left of the Gold Queen’s hair.
As my eyes traveled down her form, I gasped again; perhaps it was due to her status as Iron Queen, but whatever the reasoning her upper body was clad in a rather sheer chain mail shirt. Then, she shifted and my suspicion was confirmed: there was nothing beneath the mail. She also wore a mail skirt, though thankfully she was seated so I could at least pretend her lower half was covered, and a long crimson cloak shielded her back. My cheeks grew hot as I struggled to maintain my composure, and I hoped Micah would be called upon to speak first. I didn’t know if I could converse with half-naked royalty while maintaining a straight face.
“Lord Silverstrand,” the queen greeted. “Twice in one day you grace my hall. To what do we owe the honor?”
“As I advised my liege during my prior audience, my consort desires a boon,” he replied, his voice low and sonorous. The queen shifted her gaze to me and laughed softly. I could not imagine what was more amusing than her attire.
“You call this girl your consort? There is no silver upon her!” A chuckle bubbled up around us, but Micah kept his face impassive. I almost told the queen that she was wrong, that I was wearing Micah’s silver token, when the full meaning of her barb dawned upon me.
“You see, she blushes like a maid!” Ferra laughed at Micah’s expense. “What sort of consort have you dredged up, Micah? You’ll never get an heir if you only call children to your bed!”
His ears pinked, but his tone remained respectful. “Our situation is unusual, yes,” Micah allowed. “About the boon, my lady?”
“Yes, yes.” The queen waved her hand, and all laughter in the hall ceased. “What would you like to know, child?”
“My brother,” I squeaked; Mom would be furious if she knew I had let this woman intimidate me, queen or no. I took a deep breath and squared my shoulders, and was still a little shocked that my voice held steady. “He was taken away by my government ten years ago. I want to know if he’s still alive.”
“And he is an Elemental?”
“Yes, ma’am. He is of copper, as I am.”
The Iron Queen regarded me in silence for long, arduous moments. “If I am to determine whether he is live or dead, I must first hear his name.”
“Maximillien Corbeau,” I replied readily. “Maximillien Laurent Corbeau.”
The queen’s brows peaked in interest. “Should I know of your family?”
“My father was—is—Baudoin Corbeau.” When I said my father’s name, a palpable hush rolled across the hall. Those who’d laughed at Micah and me now looked at us with a measure of respect. Yes, I silently told them all, my father is the patriarch of the Raven clan and yes, in my brother’s absence, I am the heir apparent. No one was laughing now.
The queen rose and descended from her dais, and my hope that the lower half of her wore somewhat more than a chain mail skirt was dashed. It was more of a loincloth, leaving her legs bare nearly to her waist. There was, thankfully, a strategically placed belt. She stood before me and placed her fingertips on my temples; Micah mumbled a protest, but we both ignored him. Her fingers were hard, hard as iron, and I swear they poked through my skull and directly into my brain. After a small eternity, she spoke.
“I could tell you many things, little Raven,” the queen began. “I could tell you that in every generation there is a singularly gifted wielder of each element, an Inheritor of Power. I could tell you that all such Elementals of this generation are known, save metal. But I won’t.” Her steely eyes glinted, cold and foreboding like a winter’s dawn. “What I will tell you is that your brother lives, though I cannot bring him to you.” She pressed her fingers harder into my brain, and frowned. “You father I cannot sense, but then, that was always his way. Likely, Baudoin still breathes as well. I certainly cannot imagine him allowing death to have its way with him.”
Relief flooded me. Max was alive, Dad was probably alive. “Thank you, mistress.” She graced me with a cold, calculating smile before sweeping back to her throne; at least the cloak covered the back of her.
There was a bit of ceremony as Micah and I were dismissed from the Iron Queen’s presence, but I hardly heard it. The fact that Max and Dad were alive had me so elated my feet barely touched the floor. My head swam, drunk with my newfound knowledge, and I wondered what I should do next. I needed to call Sadie and get her to come home from college so I could tell her and Mom together. Then, we’d go into the old basement, the one the Peacekeepers hadn’t found…
“This was a mistake,” Micah said, suddenly. “We should not have come.”
I grabbed his hand, walking backward as I led him out of the dour iron hall and into the fresh air. “But she helped me, just like you said she would. Max is alive!” Micah yanked me toward him, trapping me between a metal wall and his similarly unyielding body.
“Why didn’t you tell me who your father is?” he demanded.
“I… I didn’t think it mattered,” I mumbled. Micah’s silver eyes blazed, and he pressed closer to me, so close I could feel the cold of the wall seep through my thin dress. He opened his mouth to say more, but one of the iron guards tapped him on the shoulder. After a few lewd comments about what we were doing pressed up against the wall, he sent us on our way. Micah remained sullenly silent until we were out of sight of the queen’s palace.
“It matters,” he said, his voice quiet. “You father is a powerful man.”
“I know,” I mumbled.
“And why did you let Ferra touch you?” he continued. “Gods, first she humiliates me before the whole of her court, then you let her place her hands upon your flesh!” He rounded on me, his anger blazing. “You should not have done that!”
“Why not?” I countered. His humiliation was the least of my concerns. “How else was I to get answers?”
“She didn’t need to touch you to learn them.” I tried to keep walking, but Micah grabbed my arms, effectively halting me. “Sara, she is a very dangerous woman.”
“Then why did you bring me here?” I demanded. “You said she could help!”
“That was before I knew that you are a Raven.” He spat the word, as if it had dirtied his mouth. “She learned much when she touched you. Too much! I believe she was looking for your father.”
“Of course she was! It’s what I asked her to do, remember?” I twisted free and started walking again, but Micah wasn’t through with his lecture. He grabbed my shoulders and forcibly dragged me against a tree.
“Sara, listen to me,” he said, his voice so low it was almost a growl. “You must not return to the Mortal World! I cannot protect you there.”
“What about my mother, and Sadie? I can’t just disappear on them!”
“After you have been in hiding for a time, I will retrieve them. Now, it will be too dangerous.”
“After a time,” I repeated. “Where will I be hiding?”
“At my home,” he replied, as if the answer was obvious. “I can best protect you where my power is strongest.”
“And get silver on me?” I sneered. His eyes widened in shock, then narrowed.
“I’m trying to keep you alive, not take you to bed,” he hissed.
“Bullshit,” I countered. “You’ve been trying to get into my pants from the moment you met me! That’s all this is about to you! And now you want to separate me from my family, ‘protect’ me in your home! Is that what elves call it?” I wrenched myself free and stalked away. He caught me yet again, this time grabbing my forearm and whipping me around to face him.
“If all I wanted was an afternoon’s frolic in your garden, I’d have had it by now,” Micah growled.
His grip on my arms was so tight it brought tears to my eyes, but I held his gaze. “I’ve made you my consort.”
“I don’t want to be your consort.” He released me so suddenly I stumbled, but he steadied me with a hand at the small of my back. My mark flared, making me want him again, but I tamped down my desire like it was an unwanted campfire. “You knew that I didn’t know what all this meant. Tokens! All you’ve done is try to trick me into having sex with you. I never want to see you again!”
“Sara,” he began, but I turned and walked away. “My Sara!”
“Not your Sara!” I shot back. “We’re done, Micah!”
I managed to make it all the way to the car before I broke down in sobs.
chapter 10
I cried during the drive home. I cried as I walked up the stairs to my apartment. I cried while I engaged in apartment-cleaning therapy. I cried while I showered and combed my hair. And I cried while I searched for my favorite bathrobe to wallow in. Micah’s loss reverberated to my core, so much so that my breath was ragged and my hands shook. Clumsily, I pawed through my closet until my jittery movements caused the rod to give way. I stood there, shivering and wet as I stared at this latest betrayal, then turned away and left everything in a giant heap. It wasn’t like I needed to find anything nice to wear for Micah, anyway.
As I stumbled to the couch and wrapped myself in a fleece blanket, I couldn’t recall ever being so heartbroken, not when Max had been taken or even when Dad had disappeared. With the former I’d just been mad, so mad that I was going to give the Peacekeepers a piece of my mind as soon as they brought my brother back, and with the latter I’d been too young to understand what had happened. By the time I was old enough to realize that my father might be forever lost to me, the pain had dulled to an occasional ache.
Not this. This was constant, with sharp spikes of pain tearing at my heart.
Knowing that I’d be useless at work, I called the operator and told her I was feeling sick. Normally, Violet screamed a blue streak at anyone who dared call out of work, especially since tomorrow was a government holiday (Tax Day!) followed by the weekend, but my snuffling must have touched her craggy old heart. “You take care, sugar,” was all she said.
And I did, if lying on the couch and eating everything in the kitchen counted as caring for myself. Shortly after noon, there was a knock at my door. My heart leapt, assuming Micah had come to apologize, but it was only Juliana, bearing cartons of takeout. She took one look at my swollen, tear-streaked face, dumped the cartons on the side table, and dragged me right back to the couch.
“Was it as bad as Bill?” she asked.
Oh, she would just have to go there, wouldn’t she? Bill was the one I’d bought the nightie for. We’d met shortly after I got the job at REES, on one of the rare occasions when Juliana and I had gone to a bar other than The Room. He was a carpenter who tended toward high-end finish work; his hands were always rough, and he smelled like sawdust. He’d had a rugged masculinity that I’d loved, so much so that I’d told him about my family, and that I was an Elemental. The very next day, he had told me he didn’t think we’d work out, and I had been devastated.
I missed Micah so much more than I’d ever missed Bill.
“Worse,” I mumbled, sinking into my robe. “Way worse.”
That admission prompted Juliana to get the wine, and we sipped chardonnay while we watched bad pre-war monster movies on the Picture Vision. I noticed that she’d swiped one of the good bottles I had been saving for a special occasion, but I didn’t call her on it. I supposed today was special, if you considered being miserable and wanting to stick your head in the garbage disposal as special.
“I need to head out,” Juliana said after the second movie. It was about a shark and an electric eel who had put aside their aquatic differences to keep the ocean safe. Not one of my favorites. “Mom’s working, and I need to get dinner together for Corey.”
Corey was Juliana’s much younger brother. Since their father died, Juliana had become his second mother. She was good at taking care of people, myself included.
“I’ll be fine,” I said decisively. “He was just a guy.” Juliana gave me that look, so I elaborated. “Really. We’d only known each other for a week. Go. Handle the brother.”
I ushered her toward the door, repeatedly affirming my rock-like mental state. As soon as the latch clicked behind her, I was sobbing again.
Only now I was mad as well as sad. Micah had said that Juliana wasn’t my friend, but who was here with me? Her, not him. Of course, he had probably only said those things so I’d sleep with him. Jerk.
Once this latest round of sobs had calmed to a somewhat steady flow of tears, I called Sadie. She’d been away at college for a few years now, pursuing an advanced degree in library sciences. Me, I’d studied for two years, grabbed my degree and run, but not Sadie. She had figured that, after all we’d gone through to get into college, she was staying until she either earned her PhD or they kicked her out. Being that she was brilliant, I was betting on the former. In a few years, we’d all be calling her Dr. Corbeau.
I told her as much as I could about Micah over the phone, leaving out the obvious supernatural bits. Since all of the school phones are tapped, I also couldn’t tell her what I’d learned about Max and Dad; we’d tried using a code word once, just to see what would happen, and Sadie’s entire dorm had gotten searched. All the Peacekeepers had ended up finding was some contraband chocolate.
So I began the call by telling my little sister about Mike, how I liked his gray eyes and his silly smile, how happy he made me; before you knew it, Sadie liked Mike almost as much as I did. Then I told her about our fight, substituting the Iron Queen’s dungeonesque palace for a wedding reception, and even the phone monitor expressed her disapproval over how he’d treated me. College lines tended to be tapped by volunteers.
“And you just left him there?” Sadie asked, once the monitor had finished her piece.
“Yeah,” I choked out around a sob. I stroked the bruises his fingers had left on my forearm. “I think it’s for the best. He’s a jerk.”
“He doesn’t sound like a jerk,” Sadie said. “Maybe you should call him.”
“And say what? ‘Hey, still want that roll in the hay? Come on by!’” Sadie was silent, but I could feel her disapproval through the phone. “No. I can’t.”
“He’s done an awful lot for you over the past few days,” Sadie pointed out.
“I know.” My hand found his token, and I traced the edge of the oak leaf. I should have given it back to him (or flung it in his face), but at the time I’d forgotten about it. Now, I couldn’t bear to take it off, my last connection to him. “I was too mean. He won’t want to see me again.”
“You might be surprised,” Sadie murmured. I uttered a few noncommittal words, trying to ignore the spark of hope that flared in my breast.
Our call ended soon after that, leaving me well and truly alone in my empty apartment. Normally, being on my own didn’t bother me, but I had to do something to take my mind off Micah. Unfortunately, my options were limited. I could go to the office and bury myself in work, but it was close to curfew. If the buzzer sounded and I was still at work, I’d be sleeping under my desk. I’d launched into a cleaning frenzy when I’d first gotten back from the Otherworld, and my apartment was so tiny it hadn’t taken long to reach hospital levels of sanitation. I tried to read, listen to music, but my mind kept wandering back to the Otherworld. I needed a distraction, one that didn’t involve me going out and showing the world my red, puffy eyes. Being that Juliana had brother duty, and that there was no way I could make it to Mom’s before curfew, for the time being, it seemed that I was stuck.
Wait. I could dreamwalk. I bet I’d been dreamwalking for years, and just hadn’t realized that my realistic dreams were, um, real. In my dreams, I could go anywhere. Lie on a beach in the tropics, scale a mountain, visit friends and family…
I could dreamwalk to Max.
&n
bsp; I’d never tried to find a specific person in my dreams; then again, I hadn’t known I was a Dreamwalker until Micah had appeared in my car, and then my bed, and then…
Stop. I gulped a lungful of air and willed myself to be calm. I’m thinking about Max, not Micah. For so long, I’ve just been waiting for my brother to be found or rescued, but things are different now. Now I know that Max is alive, and I don’t need anyone’s help to find him.
I ran into my bedroom and dove into the mess on the closet floor, quickly fishing out jeans, a black tank top, and a black sweater; one thing Micah had impressed upon me was that my dreamself wore whatever my physical body did, so I was trying to be practical. After all, Max could be anywhere, and it was always smart to dress in layers.
As I laced up my sneakers, I spied the hem of the lavender nightie I’d worn the other night, and the waterworks started all over again. I rubbed the soft silk against my cheek, and contemplated reaching out to Micah. Just to talk. Just to see him one more time.
No. This is for the best.
I threw the tearstained silk back into the depths of my closet and lay flat on my bed. I pictured Max as I’d last seen him, a gawky, freckled teenager, and tried to imagine what he’d look like today. In no time, I was asleep.
chapter 11
The gray mist slowly dissipated, and I realized that I was inside a building of some kind. More specifically, I was walking down a painted concrete hallway that reminded me of both a hospital and a jail. The walls were institutional green, the floor that colorless linoleum that hid splatters of all sorts. There were no windows; set into the wall, behind breakaway glass, waited an emergency alarm and tools. On closer inspection, I saw that, instead of a fire extinguisher and hatchet, the emergency box held a vial of holy water and a handful of rowan twigs bound with red thread.
This isn’t a hospital, it’s a prison. A prison for rogue Elementals.
Copper Girl Page 8
