The Faerie Queen (The Faerie Ring #4)

by Kiki Hamilton

  “Let me try,” Rieker said, edging closer. He wrapped his long fingers around the bronze handle and gave a forceful yank. But the door remained unyielding. Rieker released his grip and stepped back, sizing up the frame that held the door in place. In a smooth motion, he stepped forward and kicked the door open, the wood giving way in a wrenching crash.

  Tiki jumped in surprise. “All right then. That’s one way to do it.”

  Rieker raised the thin black eyebrows of his unattractive glamour. “When you can’t go back one must go forward…”

  “Funny.”

  He stepped into the room and stopped.

  “What is it?” Tiki crowded close to look around his shoulders. Deep crimson carpet, shot through with what looked like gold stars, reached to the far end of the long room. The carpet was rich and sumptuous, giving the room a luxurious air, but it was the rest of the space that made Tiki’s jaw sag in surprise.

  Her first impression was of a cathedral, for the walls were covered in a magnificent array of stained glass windows. Even the floor was covered with a million pieces of colored glass artfully arranged in design after design. The craftsmanship was so fine some of the windows appeared to be paintings, each meant to tell its own story—some achingly beautiful, others ghastly.

  Tiki followed Rieker into the room. “What is this place?”

  “I don’t know,” Rieker said, “but you can be sure it serves some purpose.”

  “Who could have created all of this?” Tiki turned in a slow circle. The room appeared to have been made from colored glass. “It’s beautiful in a haunting sort of way.”

  Rieker walked along the perimeter of the room as Tiki walked down the small carpeted paths between the windows. Black dogs with snarling fangs and red glowing eyes growled up at her; knights with blades drawn fought to the death while others lay with heads severed; Mothers cradled their babies, arcs of light behind their heads; Lovers entwined; A young boy on bended knee being knighted by a king; Forests, waterfalls and towers, witches and dryads, demons and mortals. All manner of fey—immortalized in time.

  She stopped at one window. Depicted by the fine pieces of cut glass was the image of a queen, her hair neither brown nor blond, her face neither young nor old. She appeared to be carved from pale marble, a golden crown encrusted with jewels sat upon her head.

  “I’ve seen this one before,” Tiki whispered, as she got down on her knees to run her fingers over the leaded pieces that formed the queen’s face. “This image is on the card the Jester gave me.”

  “And I’ve seen this before,” Rieker said in a quiet voice from where he stood in a small alcove.

  Tiki hurried over to his side. “What is it?”

  Rieker pointed to a fine silver medallion in the shape of a Celtic cross that lay in a box of crushed emerald green velvet. “Kieran wore that when I knew him in London.”

  Tiki sucked in her breath. “Do you think these are the Jester’s rooms?” She turned around to look again at the brilliant mosaic of color. “Do you think he made these windows?”

  Rieker turned and followed Tiki’s gaze. “Do you think he’s really my father?”

  Tiki slipped her hand into Rieker’s and squeezed gently. “William, whether he is or isn’t, doesn’t change who you are.”

  He tightened his fingers over hers. “You’re right. By now I know we each create our own path in this life.” He looked around the room. “The bigger question is where do we go from here?”

  “I don’t know. We don’t dare go back the way we came.”

  “No. We need to find another way out.” Rieker released Tiki’s hand and walked to the wall, running his fingertips over the stained glass image of a tower with flames shooting from the top. “It’s like these images tell a story—”

  “Or, knowing the Jester, hide a message.” She drew a sharp breath and pointed to one of the images on the floor. It was a grotesque picture of a red-headed giant wearing a chain of severed heads around his waist. “I recognize that one too, it’s on the—” her words died in her throat.

  “What?” Rieker looked from Tiki to where she pointed. “What is it?”

  Tiki hurried toward the picture and fell to her knees in front of the colored glass.

  “Teek, what are you doing?”

  She leaned close, until her nose was almost pressed against the glass. “Come look,” she cried, motioning him over. He dropped to his knees next to her.

  “What is it?”

  “I recognized this picture—it’s on the ceiling of the Great Hall when the UnSeelies rule. Don’t you see? We’re on the other side of it—above the Great Hall.” She sat back on her heels and looked at Rieker. “This room is a spying post.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  “The Jester’s spying post—it makes perfect sense.” Rieker looked over at Tiki. “How else would he know everything that went on in the Great Hall?” He pointed. “What about that one? Can we see through that one too?” It didn’t take long to realize that the entire row of images on the floor allowed a view of the activities in the huge room below.

  “Look, when the angle is right you can see reflections in some of the mirrors,” Tiki said. “If someone was wearing a glamour you’d be able to see it. Perhaps that’s how the Jester recognized Larkin the first time she brought me here. And there’s something else that’s been bothering me. When we opened several of those doors in the hall we saw the Night Garden with the moon in the sky—but there was no moon when we got to the top of the Tor—the palace is encased in black clouds. I think those doors in the hallway are glamoured to look like they lead to the Night Garden with the purpose of hiding the stairs that lead here.”

  Rieker pushed himself to his feet. “If these are the Jester’s rooms, there must be another exit.” He headed back to the alcove and began examining the walls for any kind of opening that might lead them out of the room.

  Tiki remained kneeling on the floor, gazing through the stained glass windows. Many of the guests danced with wild abandon, seemingly oblivious to the lack of melody that screeched from the musician’s instruments. Others huddled in small circles talking and swilling blue wine from elegantly curved bottles.

  “I can see Larkin,” she called softly. “She’s still talking to Donegal.” Tiki’s gaze wandered from the Winter King and Fachtna to look for Dain, though his dark garments would make him blend in with the crowd. In places it was difficult to see through the smoke that belched from the wall-mounted torches, but it appeared the room was still full of guards, armed as if prepared for an attack. What diversion could be created to draw them away from protecting the Winter King long enough that someone might remove him from the throne?

  As she stared down into the crowded hall below, a flash of white caught her eye. She leaned forward, scanning the room.

  There! She saw it again. A small, white dove, oddly out of place in the dark and smoky atmosphere, flew in a wide arc around the room. There was something familiar about the bird and she searched her memory for where she might have seen it before. Another flutter of white caught her eye and this time she followed the path of the dove as it flew toward one end of the Great Hall. The bird made a great arc over the Dragon Throne.

  She scrambled to her feet. “Rieker,” she cried. “The Jester is here—in the palace.”

  Rieker jerked around. “How do you know?”

  “Do you remember Dain said he’d seen the Jester create birds? I’ve just seen a snow white dove in the Great Hall. It has to be a sign from him. We need to follow that bird—it’s our only clue.”

  “What are we going to do about the hounds?” Rieker frowned. “We can’t go back down there.”

  “We’ll have to deal with them somehow.” Tiki looked around the long room but there was nothing obvious they could use to stop the two giant dogs. “Do you think they’re still out there?”

  “I don’t know but we can’t take a chance if they are. We’ll never outrun them.”

  Tiki propped her h
ands on her hips and surveyed the room. “We’ve got to think of something. We need to follow that dove—it might be our only chance to locate Fial.” She hurried toward the alcove. “Did you see anything that looked like another way out?”

  Rieker followed her. “No, but even if we find another way—those dogs can smell your scent. We can’t take the chance.”

  “Well, we can’t stay here either.” Tiki ran her fingers over the walls, looking for anything that might be a hidden door. Rieker looked too, but no other exit was obvious. After ten minutes of searching, Tiki dropped her hands. “We need to think like the Jester.”

  “Not likely,” Rieker snorted.

  “This was a spying room for him, not his personal chambers. If he saw something in the Great Hall that was of interest he would probably want to be able to get down there quickly.” She turned in a slow circle. “But he couldn’t just drop into the middle of things, now, could he? He would need to enter unobtrusively.” She walked back down one of the carpeted paths in the middle section of the room and stared through the glass into the Great Hall. “He would have to arrive on the perimeter somewhere—” she stopped. “Why would he need two exits when he could just go back down the stairs and cross the hallway? There are thirteen doors in that hallway—maybe the rest of them actually do lead to the Night Garden. If someone saw him coming out of the door, they might assume he just stepped in from outside.”

  Rieker came to stand beside her. “You might be right, but how does that help us? We still need to stop the hounds.”

  Tiki pointed through the glass. “Look, the dogs have returned to the Great Hall and they’re seated by Donegal now.” The two great black hounds sat at attention next to the Dragon Throne, their great heads almost level with Donegal’s. Even seated the dogs were huge. Tiki’s heart sank. How could they possibly escape from such beasts?

  As she considered the room below she realized that Larkin was no longer in conversation with the Winter King. Tiki’s gaze slid around the room, searching for Fachtna or the white dove—any kind of answer. Her gaze stopped and her brows pulled down in concentration.

  “We don’t need to think like the Jester—we need to think like you.”

  “What?”

  She grabbed Rieker’s hand and pulled him toward the door. “I have an idea.”

  THEY WEDGED THE splintered door shut and followed the stone steps back down to the spot where they’d entered from the hallway. Tiki reached for the handle of the door, but Rieker pulled her aside.

  “Let me look. The hounds don’t care about my scent.” He motioned for her to stand back and slowly, slowly pulled the door open a crack to peer into the hallway. “No dogs that way,” he whispered as he pulled the door open further. He wedged his body close to the crack, so if a dog suddenly appeared, it would have to go through him to enter the small space where they stood. He tilted his head to look the other way down the hall. “All clear.”

  They left the room and hurried down the hallway toward the next door. With a quick glance over her shoulder, Tiki opened the door. Once again, the alluring sound of the Night Garden sang to them, the gnarled bare branches and brambles swaying in the soft moonlight.

  “Wait here,” Rieker said in a low voice. “Don’t move until I return.”

  Tiki slipped inside the door and pulled it almost closed. It would only be a few minutes before Rieker returned with the diversion she’d planned for the dogs. She prayed it would work. They wouldn’t be able to accomplish anything here if she was constantly being hunted.

  She glanced over her shoulder to make sure she was alone and froze. Instead of the shadowy bramble-filled garden she’d expected, she was standing in a library. Bookcases crammed to overflowing lined the walls of the round room. Above her head a circular walkway bisected the room, allowing access to a second story of books. A couch and several chairs centered round an ornately carved wooden table creating an intimate reading area. The room had an air of elegance and sophistication that seemed alien to anything Donegal could create. Who then, came to this spot?

  Tiki walked over to the nearest bookcase and ran her fingers along the spines of the books, some leather, some cloth, some with glittering gold letters, other’s stamped in black block letters. In many ways, the room reminded her of Mr. Potts’ bookstore—simply by the sheer number of books. But it also reminded her of the Octagonal Library in Buckingham Palace where Leo had dropped the ring of the truce that fateful night while she hid under the desk.

  She wound her way around the room and over to the carved table where a small stack of books waited. The top one had a bookmark protruding from its pages. Curious, Tiki picked it up and turned it over to read the title. She gasped and dropped the book as though her fingers had been burned. It landed on the table with a thunk, the title gleaming up at her: Oliver Twist. She reached for the next book, intuitively knowing what the title would say: The Count of Monte Cristo. Beneath that was a thin book: The Field of Boliauns.

  Why would someone in Faerie be reading the very books she had purchased for Rieker and Clara? Who would be reading them? How did they know? Unsettled, she backed away from the table. Had someone from the Otherworld been spying on them all this time?

  “Teek.” Rieker called in a harsh whisper through a crack in door. “Are you ready?”

  Tiki ran back to the door, pulling her jacket off as she went. There would be another time to investigate this room. She slipped through the door into the hallway.

  “Yes, I’m ready. You’ve got what we need?”

  Rieker held up two bags that sagged with the weight of their contents.

  Tiki curled her nose at the smell of fresh blod. “Yes, I can smell your success.”

  “Let’s hurry before someone wants to know what we’re doing.” As if in response to his words, a pair of leprechauns exited the Great Hall headed in their direction. Matching gold buckles adorned their long shoes and their belts, shooting reflections of the torch light.

  “Keep walking,” Tiki whispered. Louder, she said, “I totally agree. The goblins have done an excellent job of protecting the border. It’s no wonder Donegal has called for them to join in this war…”

  The leprechauns barely glanced at them as they walked by, deep in their own conversation. It sounded to Tiki like they were discussing a stockpile of gold.

  “It’s too valuable. We can’t take a chance it could be found.”

  “Agreed. I told him to bury it deep in the earth where it can’t be seen,” the first one said. “No one will find it that way.”

  “But how will we find it again?” His companion responded. “If the spot is marked then someone else might see the….”

  Their conversation faded as they moved further down the hallway.

  Tiki and Rieker had almost reached the wide entrance to the Great Hall before they stopped. Rieker glanced over his shoulder. “They’re gone.” They hurried back toward the door to the spying post. Tiki opened it and Rieker dropped the two bags he carried in front of the opening. One by one he turned the bags upside down and two raw pieces of meat slid out in a puddle of blood.

  Tiki shuddered. “What are those? They look like some creature’s legs—”

  “I didn’t ask when I took them. Honestly, I don’t want to know. I just hope those hounds want to eat them more than they want to eat you.”

  Tiki reached down and with a grimace, picked up the meat in each hand. She nodded at Rieker. “I’m ready.”

  Rieker jaw was set in a grim line. “All right.” He ran back to the opening that led to the Great Hall. Though Tiki couldn’t hear him over the din coming from the party, she knew he was whistling for the hounds. In his hands he held her jacket. If her plan worked, the scent would be enough to lure the dogs to him and then the bloody meat would be enough of a diversion to distract them. If her plan worked.

  It seemed only a split-second before Rieker was sprinting back in her direction. Tiki sucked in a deep breath and tightened her grip on the meat as the two do
gs skidded out of the Great Hall to race after Rieker. When he was a doorway away from where Tiki stood he threw her jacket back towards the hounds and slid to a stop at her side.

  “Give me one of those,” he said, reaching for the meat. The dogs paused long enough to sniff the jacket before they turned their glazed red eyes on Rieker and Tiki.

  “Here goes,” Tiki whispered. One of the dogs lifted her snout and sniffed the air, her gaze locked on Tiki. “Let’s hope they’re hungry.”

  With a wild bark, they both dropped their heads and took a giant leap toward Tiki and Rieker. Tiki shook the meat she held, green blood splattering the floor. Her heart pounded so hard it felt like it was going to burst right out of her chest.

  “Ready—now!” Rieker cried. As one they threw the bloody meat into the room and ducked behind the door. The dogs never broke stride. They raced into the room and dove onto the meat in a wild frenzy of snarling growls as Tiki and Rieker pushed the door shut behind them.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Time ceased to have meaning for the Jester. There was no natural light to discern morning from night, no schedule by which to measure the passage of days. He faded in and out of consciousness, awakening mostly from the excruciating pain of his battered body, only to wish he could lapse back into oblivion again to escape the agony.

  But a terrible sense of urgency kept him awake, prodding him to take action—but how? He stared at the slatted bars that covered the small window in the wooden door, wondering what stood between him and freedom. He raised his cupped hands to his lips and breathed flame into his fingers, then rubbed his hands together. When he opened his palms, another small white dove flew free and circled the room.

  “What are yer doin’ in there?” The guard shouted through the barred window. “There’ll be no magic in here—”

  The guard yanked the door open and was across the room in three steps, grabbing the Jester by the neck with a meaty paw. “NO MAGIC—you hear me, Fool?” He stretched his arm across his chest and swung the back of his fist into the prisoner’s head. The crunch of the Jester’s nose as it broke was audible in the small room.