The Queen's Flight (Emerging Queens)

by Jamie K. Schmidt

  “Doesn’t anyone wait for an engraved invitation anymore?” Cassandra lamented. “Stall them until we clean this mess up.”

  “Why don’t you ask Marisol who killed her?” Viola interrupted as Justice started giving orders. He stopped mid command and glanced at his Queen.

  “What in Nidhogg’s name are you talking about?” Justice asked.

  Cassandra growled. “I know who the murderer is.”

  “She hasn’t completely gone into the weave yet,” Viola said, making knitting motions with her hands. What the hell? “I can still feel her.”

  “Me too,” one of the new Queens said. “I thought I was crazy.” She was hiding in the corner of the room. Three studs hovered around her.

  “You’re not crazy,” another said. She had her own orbit of studs.

  Maybe he wouldn’t be so outnumbered in this fight after all. Still, he had Justice to worry about.

  “Why can’t you feel her?” Viola asked Cassandra. “She’s still here.” Viola held out her hand over Marisol’s body. “Look into the blue energy.” Viola snatched her hand back as if stung.

  “You cannot speak with the dead,” Cassandra hissed. “The essence is absorbed into the weave.”

  “Not right away it’s not,” Viola intoned, her eyes rolling up to the whites. “And not if there’s a wrong to be righted.” She air knitted another row, her head cocked like she was listening to secrets. “Here, let me show you, Cassandra. You’ve forgotten how to read the weave.”

  “Step away from the body,” Sergei said, not liking the glazed features on the Queens’ faces when they stared at Marisol. And Viola didn’t sound like herself.

  “There hasn’t been a weave reader in millennia,” Cassandra whispered. “Can you show us more?”

  Sergei’s guts twisted.

  It was just a matter of time for him. With these new Queens speaking to the avenging dead, there was no hope for him once Mei Hua sensed Kira. But he was going to die with a smile on his face seeing Cassandra outclassed and outnumbered by a bunch of baby Queens who now circled the body of their fallen friend. Even Justice backed off to give them room.

  “It’s not speech. It’s images,” one said.

  “She wasn’t killed by him,” another said, pointing at Sergei. “It’s not his energy.”

  “Impossible,” Cassandra hissed. “You’re making this up.” But she didn’t sound so sure. All of the Queens were now looking at the floor with glazed eyes, as if they saw something the rest of them couldn’t. Cassandra refused to look at the body, wouldn’t meet the gaze from anyone.

  Out of the corner of his eye, a few of the male dragons inched out of their seats and slowly made way to the door. Justice must have seen it, too, because he moved to guard the doors and the studs slinked back.

  “The murderer is in this room,” yet another Queen said.

  “He tried to force her,” Viola said, her voice catching. She swayed. Sergei made sure he was there to catch her as she fell. Lifting her up in his arms, he strode for the door. Merrick was already clearing a path.

  “What’s going on in my court?” Cassandra shrieked. “No one leaves this room.” She was alone on stage, but no one was looking at her. All eyes were for the Queens and the rippling sense of yin magic coming to the forefront of the ballroom.

  “It was him,” a Queen pointed.

  “Him,” another followed suit and pointed.

  “Why?” a third Queen asked.

  They were pointing in his direction. No, not his direction. Sergei realized they were pointing at Merrick. He stepped away so Merrick was nowhere near Viola. This didn’t make any sense.

  “He tried to force her,” the Japanese Queen said in accented English.

  “When she refused him, he got rough and tore her throat out,” another said, her hands glowing against the blue weave which was now emanating from the dead Queen.

  “As she lay dying, he stung her so it appeared like it was first a poison death to implicate the Wyvern,” the last of the new Queens said, kneeling to take Marisol’s hand in hers.

  “The Queens have spoken,” Cassandra intoned. Her eyes rolled back in her head as well when she finally looked at the body.

  “This is bullshit,” Merrick said.

  Sergei couldn’t understand his motive. Marisol was nearly human—she would have been still meek and unsure. Unless—Sergei looked around at the other studs—this was a set up.

  Justice spoke to Merrick. “Killing a Queen is death.”

  “The Queens speak true,” Cassandra said.

  It was the horror and fear radiating off Cassandra that convinced Sergei of Merrick’s guilt. He was as stunned as the rest of the studs.

  “I didn’t mean to kill her,” Merrick said when he also sensed the judgment from the yin weave. “My teeth were on her neck, sure, but she panicked and ripped her own throat out.”

  Absolute silence filled the room. Sergei almost shifted to his dragon form as the fury hit him. He had trusted Merrick with Viola, would have gladly left her with him at one point. He observed Marisol crumpled on the floor in a pool of her own blood, and a red haze filled his vision.

  It could have been Viola.

  “Die,” Cassandra ordered.

  Studs ducked out of the way as Merrick shifted to dragon to fight Justice, who was coming for him. Justice’s form flickered, and the great white dragon dwarfed the Chimera.

  “Teeth and claws it is,” he bellowed and exhaled a long stream of fog on Merrick.

  Ice engulfed the Chimera. Every inch of him was covered in frost. It cracked as his tail broke free and dared to sting Justice.

  “I don’t have a poisoned tail,” Viola murmured.

  Sergei looked down at his Queen in his arms. She looked woozy, but her eyes were open. “Thank Nidhogg, you’re all right. We’re getting out of here.”

  “A poison tail would be useful. All mine does is bash things. Bye Marisol!” Viola’s head lolled back and she waved half-heartedly.

  “Snap out of this.” Sergei leaped into the seats as Justice tossed Merrick their way. The Chimera had no chance against the bigger, more experienced dragon. He was a fashion model and Justice was a millennia-old warrior. Sergei had only gotten the best of the arrogant old fool before because Justice didn’t think anyone would dare attack the court.

  Sergei would dare a lot for his Queen—even if they only had a few weeks at most before Kira told Mei Hua who killed her.

  Balancing on the top of the chairs, Sergei sprinted for the door, holding Viola as she drifted in and out of consciousness. Justice stopped playing with Merrick. He had him cornered. Inhaling a deep breath, Justice froze Merrick into an ice sculpture with his exhale. Then, he charged into him, shattering the Chimera into a thousand ice fragments.

  The remaining nine Queens ran screaming for the door as the Embassy team walked in: Niall, Reed, Caroline, Jack, and Arianna.

  “What is the meaning of this?” Niall boomed out, shimmering into his dragon form. He was as big as Justice and was probably as old. The two behemoths circled each other. “I demand to know how such a thing could have happened.”

  Apparently, they heard it all through the doors. Or maybe Caroline had told them. She was pale and shaking, clutching Reed’s arm for support.

  “Do not come into my Queen’s court and make demands,” Justice squared off on him.

  “Or what?” Niall asked. “You’ll allow another Queen to die?”

  Arianna stepped forward to usher the nine Queens out of the ballroom. “Come with me, quickly.”

  Sergei went to follow, but Viola’s shriek of agony stopped him in his tracks and every dragon’s head turned toward her.

  Sergei felt Viola’s pulse. “Talk to me, honey. What’s the matter?”

  “So much pain,” she muttered. “The land, the weave here. Something is draining the weave.” She was frigid and stiff in his arms. “It doesn’t want me to go. It has something to tell me.”

  Reed pulled Carolyn close
r. “Are you sensing anything?”

  “Hell yeah, the weave is all a flutter,” she gasped.

  He had to get Viola out of here, but he was afraid of moving her. “Tell me who’s hurting you. I’ll make it stop.”

  “The stitches dropped. It’s a mess. The new Queens are all in there. They talk to me. They want to be found. I see them. It hurts. It hurts so badly. I can’t leave them all alone.” Viola shrank back against him as if invisible hands were reaching for her.

  That was good enough for him. She needed distance.

  “Get out of my way,” Sergei snarled as he pushed though the delegates. “The weave connection in this room is killing her.”

  Nidhogg knew what the weave was telling her about him.

  “Niall, I think there’s another spell blocking the missing Queens,” Carolyn said, her hand reaching out like Viola’s had.

  “Don’t open yourself up to it,” Reed warned the other Queens. “Everyone into the courtyard.”

  “You do not give orders in my court,” Cassandra snarled. “Justice, stop them!”

  Sergei wanted to savor the fall of Cassandra’s court. And even though her wails of anguish and frustration were music to his ears, he wouldn’t linger and risk his mate.

  His mate.

  He held her tighter as she began to sob when they reached the courtyard. “Stay out of the weave until someone trains you,” he said, trying to sound kind and reassuring.

  “I’m trying,” Viola choked out.

  Carolyn flinched and ducked. Each of the nine Queens and Viola shuddered as if being hit with a great force. As in one voice they wailed, their bodies convulsed. Bleeding from their eyes and ears, they crumpled to the ground.

  Don’t go.

  All the hair on his body stood up at the ghostly order.

  “What the hell was that?” Sergei and Reed exchanged confused glances.

  “Someone noticed us looking in the weave,” Viola gasped out.

  “Get them out of here,” Reed bellowed.

  Shifting in an instant to his dragon form, Sergei cradled Viola close to his chest with his front legs and used his back legs to gain enough altitude so they were soon lost in the clouds.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Viola woke to a blistering headache in a cozy bed in a farmhouse completely unfamiliar to her. She wasn’t in chains, so she was going to go out on a limb thinking that she wasn’t in the Cult of Humanity’s clutches. But she was completely naked and under a thick homey quilt.

  “Sergei?”

  No one answered her except the call of nature, so she got up, wincing at the cold draft. The bathroom was in the room next door, and she took advantage of the large shower stall to get the dust and grime off her. She wasn’t sure what had happened to her after the weave attacked them. Letting the hot spray beat on her neck and back, Viola needed to remember.

  Damn, her head hurt.

  Marisol is dead.

  A small hole in her essence bled raw. Was this how the elder Queens felt when their contemporaries all died out? Did they shield themselves from the weave to stop the pain? As the water rained down on her, Viola used the shampoo and soap. It smelled faintly of Sergei.

  Her gut eased.

  She hadn’t been 100% sure and after Merrick’s betrayal, she was gun shy of any of the other studs. Getting out of the shower and toweling off, Viola probed that small hole Marisol made like she would a wiggly tooth.

  A flash of insight flooded her, causing her to gasp and marvel as the hole spiraled out and connected to hundreds of others. The red yang weave roiled and twisted. Studs. She dismissed them. She couldn’t decipher anything in that mess. The blue weave, however, was full of yin energy. Some of it familiar. Some of it not. Concentrating more, Viola found she could identify the nine Queens she’d met and Cassandra. But Cassandra shone so bright that Viola had to stagger back to bed until the pounding in her head stopped.

  “Sergei?” she called. But no one answered. He had to be around here somewhere; the bed she was in smelled just like him. Maybe he went out to get coffee and donuts. Donuts would go a long way to making her feel better.

  An hour later of blissful quiet with the comforting scent of burning wood, she thought she could move again without dry heaving. After a few aspirin kicked in, she realized how hungry and thirsty she was.

  Of course there weren’t any girl clothes, but she found a thick pair of woolen socks and a chamois shirt in lumberjack colors. It hung to mid-thigh and Viola deemed it good enough. Downstairs, she pulled an apple out of the bowl on the thick butcher-block table and munched on it while she searched for signs of life. Outside the window over the sink was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.

  “So I’ve died and this is dragon heaven,” she said, rushing outside.

  In a large penned area were four alpacas, six sheep, and two goats. They shied away from her when the wind shifted and bawled out distressing noises.

  “I’m not going to eat you, sillies,” she cooed at them.

  As Viola initiated making nice with the panicked sheep, a beat up pickup truck pulled up the long driveway, tucking up dust and gravel. “You should be in bed,” Sergei told her as he eased out of the driver’s seat.

  “Don’t ruin my nice dream. Let’s make love in the pasture.”

  “Is there something wrong with the bed upstairs?” He swung her up into his arms and carried her into the house.

  This is too perfect. Something was going to shit all over this.

  Imagining her goat head had said this, Viola told it mentally to shush and kissed Sergei.

  “Your new spinning wheel is in the bed of the truck. And later, we can go get some yarn and supplies.”

  Too good to be true.

  “Sergei?” she asked. “This is a dream, isn’t it?”

  He bit her neck, hard.

  “Ow!” She punched him on the side of the head. “That hurt.”

  He climbed the stairs up to the bedroom. “Still feel like you’re dreaming?”

  “Well, just in case, let’s roll around in carnal delight and then go for ice cream. I want to make sure we hit all the bases.”

  “Chocolate ice cream?”

  “Duh,” she said, sliding down his body as he released her.

  “Damn, I like you in my clothes,” he said as he unbuttoned the lumberjack shirt she wore.

  “If this isn’t a dream, I think we need to talk.”

  His hands cupped her breasts. “Oh, this is definitely a dream.”

  Who was she to argue? Her hands went to his belt buckle as his mouth came crashing down on hers, making her toes curl inside her warm socks. While his thumbs swirled around her nipples, his tongue plundered her mouth. After unbuttoning his pants, Viola slid the zipper down.

  His erection poked out. She grabbed her greedy fingers around it.

  “Yeah,” he said, “You like that?”

  “Wow,” Viola whispered. “Don’t wake me until it’s over.”

  He vanished their clothes and backed her toward the bed. “You worried me back there.”

  “I worried myself.” Viola reached up and pulled him on top of her as they tumbled to the bed.

  “I’m not going to be able to go slow this time.”

  Viola wrapped her legs around his hips. “Good.”

  He thrust inside her, hard and deep. She tightened around him to keep him there.

  “So wet and tight.” He used the headboard for leverage and rotated his hips.

  Arching against him, Viola bit her lip as the sweet friction of their bodies built a rhythm that matched her harsh breaths.

  “You all right?” he drawled, moving in and out in a rolling motion that choked the soft moans in her throat.

  All she could do was nod as he made love to her, never for a moment taking his eyes of hers.

  “This is what it feels like to be mine.”

  She met him thrust for thrust, fast and hard. “Yes,” she gritted out, her hair falling into her face with th
e intensity of their movements.

  With a quick whirl, he flipped her until she was on top. Viola steadied herself on his massive chest. She curled her fingers over the powerful muscles.

  “I want you to bounce on me until you come.” He rubbed possessively over her breasts.

  “I like you deep like this.” Viola raised herself up and slammed back down.

  “Yes,” he grunted, his eyes flashing dragon and feral. A roaring in her ears deafened her, and she realized she’d screamed out loud.

  She took him, rubbing her pleasure all over the both of them. Everything dimmed but the beat of her body against him. His hands never left her breasts. His fingers tugged at her nipples until she was moaning and trembling.

  “Take me. So I can feel what it’s like to be yours,” he drawled.

  Leaning in, Viola gripped his shoulders. Her breasts dangled in his face as he moved his hands to pump her faster. She wanted to claw and bite.

  “More,” she commanded.

  He filled her with each thrust. She kissed him with wild passion that she never had in her grip before. Sergei’s hot kisses brought her over the edge and she lost it. Viola might have bitten him. Might have clawed him. Pleasure cascaded over her and nothing existed but her and her mate. Tossing her off, Sergei left her briefly to position himself behind her and then the play took on another level. She gripped the bedcovers on all fours and looked over her shoulder at him.

  “Come,” Viola ordered.

  The sound his body entering hers was loud and utterly satisfying. Soon they were both growling and when Sergei came, his roar shook the windows. Her nipples rasped against the covers and the abrasive touch had her shuddering and clenching around him.

  Sergei rolled her over on her back and tucked her into his arms.

  This. She could get used to this.

  “Mine,” Sergei said, with a sleepy growl.

  “Mine,” Viola repeated.

  She might have dozed off to the comforting buzz of his light snore. But a voice pinged at her.

  What about the lost Queens?

  Viola broke free from him and rolled away, staggering to her feet.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, sounding more confused than angry.