Stone Queen

by Michelle M. Pillow

  The unblessed, by nature, sought to undo that which was blessed. The blessed sought to mend what was unblessed. The blessed creature gave birth to nature and light. The unblessed took nature and shadowed light. The blessed gave hope. The unblessed created fear. Only death would relinquish Merrick of his throne and without misfortune and suffering, he would cease to be. Without the unblessed, the blessed would cease as well. They were two very different sides to the same world. Ean knew this, just as Merrick did.

  “No matter how fortunate I started my life…” Merrick tried to continue.

  He was a necessary evil, but in the end he was still evil, held prisoner on the edge of darkness. He was feared, hated, blamed. The wicked thoughts that people carried, their sickening deeds, this was his burden to bear. His very power fed off fear and misfortune. Ean’s power fed off happiness and pleasure. Out of the three great kingdoms, Merrick had it the worst. Ean would always know love. Lucien was not affected by hate or death. The Damned King drew pleasure from both.

  “Ean, I remember what it was like to know…”

  Merrick would know hate but crave love. His reign was made all that worse because he had known what it was like to feel the power that came from happiness, the energy that came from sexual pleasures, from being desired not feared. The Unblessed Kings before him had known mischief and fear and continued to know it after their coronation. But Merrick had known happiness and contentment. He had been loved by his people, his family. To have had it and lost it made his suffering all that much worse, for he would never be content again. That is why he would never know happiness. That is why he would never have a son. His suffering made him a powerful king. But, with his sweet Juliana, he had a taste of that former life. He wanted it back. He needed it. She was his heart.

  “Out of all my years, only she has brought me ease,” Merrick said weakly, unable to put it into any better words. “When I saw her talking to the children in the mortal world… There was a chance that I would be allowed a bit of happiness in this dismal world and I took it.”

  “When you first took Lady Juliana from Bellemare, I’d hoped she was special, that she was sent to free you from your dark prison, and now I see that she is.” Ean looked at the hand on his arm, putting his own over it. “Promise me that we will end this war neither of us wants and I will help you free your Juliana.”

  Merrick nodded. “Thank you, brother.” Going to his horse, he leapt on its back, ready to ride.

  Ean motioned to Commander Adal. The elfin leader eyed Merrick warily. “We go to the Black Palace to help King Merrick.”

  “I must advise against such a course,” Adal said.

  “We talk peace,” Ean said.

  Adal glanced at the Unblessed King, clearly not trusting him.

  “You are much better on the field than that fool Gregor ever could hope to be,” Merrick said to the commander. Adal merely bowed his head, his eyes boring forward. It was the truth, but that was not why Merrick admitted it. He was trying to put the elf commander at ease. The distrust the man felt was palpable, even to one without magic. He also sensed that Ean trusted him and he didn’t want the commander convincing his brother to turn around. “Ah, come, Adal. We did not know each other well in childhood, but we would have had chance to speak.”

  “Forgive me, king, but childhood was a long time ago.” Adal wrapped his hand around the unicorn’s horn, ready to ride.

  “Charm is not a trait of your kind, is it, brother?” Ean teased, albeit uncomfortably.

  “Well, I am unblessed,” Merrick admitted. The gap between them wasn’t healed, not even close. Years and kingdoms stood between them. It was highly possible such things always would be there, keeping them on opposite sides of the ravine. As if in mutual understanding, they kept silent for the ride. Mending the damage between them could not be forced. Merrick pushed them toward his castle, riding hard as he hoped it wasn’t too late.

  “Anja, please, come away with me.” Juliana held her hand out to the child. She pleaded the girl with her eyes, begging her to take it. She kept her words soft, so they did not echo off the empty great hall. “This place is not what you think.”

  “Do you not want me, Mother?” Anja pouted. Her arms were out to her sides, keeping her balanced as she walked around the fire blazing in the middle of the stone chamber. Her body disappeared, blocked by the fire as she crossed around the other side. Only her small footsteps were heard until she reappeared, crossing around the front. Unlike the stone flame walls that formed the palace, this center bonfire burned bright and hot. Orange light cast out over the ashen stone like torches in a deep cave, flickering and contrasting the hidden nooks, giving a fearsome cast to each haphazardly carved niche.

  The fire was held in place by a giant circular pit in the ground. A perfect circle ringed it, making a wall upon which Anja could play. With the top ledge extending out past the bottom support, Juliana couldn’t make out the figures carved into the fire pit’s base, only detect hints of their bumpy texture.

  Anja stopped with Juliana, but did not move or speak. Batting her eyelashes at the Unblessed Queen, she slowly put her hand into the flames, letting it rest in the fire. “Do not be frightened, Mother. The flames do not burn. They are merely a portal back home. All we have to do is jump.”

  Juliana shook her head. Her stomach ached, as if the child within her screamed silently for her to hear. Everything inside of her, whether it was immortal magic or mortal instinct, told her to leave the palace. But how could she leave the child behind? “Nay, Anja, come—”

  “Nay? You do not want me?” The child’s lips quivered.

  “Nay, I do,” Juliana said, “but it’s not safe here. We must go.”

  “That is what I told you. The dark spirits come for you.” Anja again skipped around the center pit of fire. “I can feel them getting closer. We must get out of here.”

  Juliana glanced over her shoulder the way they’d come. The large, dark hall loomed over them, echoing with the low crackle of the flames. Thick columns gave the impression of long, burnt candles, the melted wax dripping up to the high, uneven ceilings instead of down.

  “Jump, Mother, jump,” Anja chanted in a sing-song voice.

  “Anja, please, come away,” Juliana whispered. She felt cold creeping over her spine, tingling and tickling her back as chills worked their way up to her neck. Invisible, icy fingers touched her, like a spirit passing in the stirring breeze. They crept along her arm, glanced her elbow and then let go. “Anja, please…”

  “Juliana is here.” Lucien grinned, his eyes filled with fire.

  Only Ari stood in his hall near the fire pit, her violet eyes darkened with kohl. Three leather, studded belts wrapped low on her hips with a thin thatch of material hiding her sex from view beneath a long, transparent skirt. High boots covered her legs, stopping mid-thigh. For a bodice, two leather cups molded to her breasts held in place with straps—one thick that wound around her neck, two thin which pulled the cups together in front and back. Where the glorious expanse of skin did show, markings were drawn.

  “Why are you so sad?” Lucien asked, studying her face.

  “Stop trying to discover emotions that are no longer there,” Ari said. “Mia is dead.”

  Lucien felt a stab of disappointment at the words, but did not lay voice to them. “Then what troubles you?”

  “Anja,” Ari stated flatly. “She may be of pure evil, but I doubt her competence.”

  “The child has been around and has seen too many evil plots that have come to fruition.” Lucien closed his eyes, reaching out his hand to again see if he could sense the Unblessed Queen.

  “Then what is taking so long? We’ve waited for nearly half of an hour. They should be through the portal already.”

  “Patience, my sweet mistress,” Lucien whispered, again detecting the queen. “She steps closer to the flame.”

  In his excitement, Lucien willed an altar to grow. Chains dangled at each corner and a knife appeared on top.
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  “Is that for me?” Ari purred.

  “Later, if you so wish it.” Lucien gave a dark laugh. The magic he would receive from today’s deed would be enough to beget an heir to his throne from Ari. One child’s death so that his son may live. Ari might not trust Anja yet, Lucien didn’t even fully trust the soothsayer, but there was one thing the child knew and that was evil.

  “Anja, come away at once!” Juliana ordered when pleading with the child did not work. She moved closer to the center fire, ready to jerk the girl down by her arm. “As your mother, I command you to follow me. This place is not safe.”

  Anja skipped out of the queen’s reach. Juliana sighed in heavy frustration, stepping around to follow the girl. Suddenly, she stopped as she saw the far side, the side that had been hidden from her before. A low table, with stone chains carved from the corners, had been placed near the flames. Above it was a knife and, around the gray stone base, tiny carved images of demons sucking the souls from mortals.

  Ah, mortals. You can never see things how they are. The words Lord Kalen had once told her now whispered across her mind. She had thought herself wise to the ways of the Immortal Realm, but it seemed in many ways she was still the foolish mortal.

  You mortals look with your eyes and hear with your ears, but you are blind and deaf, Merrick’s voice added.

  “I’ve seen these before,” Juliana said to herself. She turned to the fire pit. Anja was on the other side. Hurrying forward, she got a closer look at the fire pit’s base. It had the same carvings. “It all makes sense—the flame walls, the dead land.” Juliana stood, her voice lifting as she said, “Anja, we have to go now. This place isn’t safe. We’re in the Damned King’s Fire Palace.”

  Juliana had never been to the Fire Palace, but she’d seen a stone divining basin the Demon King had once given her husband. It had the same gruesome markings on its base.

  “Jump into the fire, Mother!” Anja screamed behind her.

  Juliana gasped, surprised that the child could move so fast. She spun around, seeing the angry set of Anja’s eyes.

  See things for how they are, not as I would have them, she told herself.

  “You are a demon.” Juliana looked at the child and shook her head, not wanting to believe it but knowing she must. She suspected a part of her knew the truth all along. Merrick and Kalen had said the baby was a boy. They would know.

  “Do you not want me, Mother?” the child demanded, stepping closer. Black filled her gaze, sucking all color to leave soulless depths. She came forward, her body jerking strangely with each movement. Her skin reddened with indignation and the soft, blonde ringlets of her hair aged with brittle gray. “Jump in the fire, Mother!”

  “Stay back.” Juliana eased along the side of the center pit, keeping her eyes on the demonic child. She cupped her stomach. Just a few more steps and she’d be able to make a run for the door. “You are not my baby.”

  Anja screeched, leaping with supernatural grace through the air. She slammed into Juliana’s shoulder, shoving her back. With a cry, the queen hit the stone ledge. Heat from the fire blazed up, trailing toward her. A flame band wrapped about her neck, pulling her back. It seared with its heat but did not break flesh. Juliana screamed as Anja clawed at her face and chest. Another ring of fire wrapped her wrist, as the pit dragged her toward its depths.

  Juliana punched Anja in the head, sending the girl flying to the side. Her thin body thudded against the ground. Evil laughter filled the hall as the child pushed up from the floor.

  “I like to play with you, Mother,” Anja said in her sickening sweet voice.

  Juliana blocked her words as she used all her strength to break out of the fire’s hold. With a loud grunt, she threw her weight forward, falling to the floor. Her stomach cramped, contracting violently.

  Not now, please not now. Stay within awhile longer.

  Water ran down the inside of her leg, like someone with a pitcher of warm ale poured it down. Cradling her arm around her stomach, she stumbled across the hall, trying to make it to freedom. A trail of water followed her as she moved, only to let up as the cramping became worse.

  “It’s started!” Anja called out.

  Juliana glanced behind her to see the evil child stalking her. She tried to hurry, once again turning to watch where she was going. A stone figure had appeared to block her path. Juliana screamed, scrambling to get past. It might have been years since she’d seen him, but she’d recognize the Demon King anywhere. Even in stone, his dark, cynical gaze pierced her with dread.

  “Too late for you,” Anja taunted. “He’s here and waiting for you.”

  Lucien’s statue creaked. The stone floor was no longer smooth as each rock shifted out of place to make for uneven travel. Juliana’s feet became tangled in her gown as the skirt snagged on a sharp edge of the stone floor. She fell over, weakly crawling away from Lucien’s statue.

  The statue creaked again. Unlike the others, Lucien moved, slowly coming for her like a man slugging through a knee-high mud pit. His feet dragged along the stone, scraping noisily with each step.

  Anja skipped around him, clapping her hands happily. “He comes. He comes. He comes to take your baby!”

  Juliana cried, hot tears streaming down her face. This was all her fault. She should have been stronger. She should have stayed with Merrick in the Black Palace where she could be safe.

  “Merrick,” she sobbed. “Find me, please. I’m sorry. I am so sorry.”

  “Cry, Mother, cry, we love your tears!” Anja sang.

  “Hold your tongue!” Juliana screamed hysterically through her tears. Her stomach cramped, seizing violently. Her wet skirt stuck to the back of her legs. “I am not your mother!”

  Another stone figure appeared, this time of a scantily clad woman. She stood still, as if watching King Lucien. Her arms hung down at her sides.

  Suddenly, Juliana’s back hit stone. She looked around. The main hall had shrunk around her, blocking her in. There was no way out, the door was gone. Only a narrow strip of space separated her from the Damned King. Orange firelight glowed behind him, silhouetting his figure and showing her that the only way out was past him. Lucien leaned over, his arms open, his hands turned toward her. She crouched in a corner, pressed against the unforgiving wall. In the background, a still red Anja stood by the stone woman, watching as Lucien loomed forward.

  He had her trapped, but she had to try. Juliana darted forward the best she could in her miserable state of labor. There wasn’t enough room to go beside him, so she tried to slip under his legs before the slow stone could catch her.

  Anja giggled, hopping up and down as she clapped her hands. “Run, Mother, run, but you will never escape!”

  Juliana almost made it through. Her belly bumped Lucien’s ankle as she pulled her weight with her arms, reaching forward to crawl out. A stone hand clamped on her thigh and she moaned, kicking to be free. It did no good. Lucien had her and he wasn’t letting go. His hands grabbed her leg. Slowly, he turned, forcing her uncomfortably around in the tight space.

  Juliana clawed at the wall, trying to find hold. Every time she thought she had it, Lucien’s stone grip would pull her away toward the center fire. Her fingers became raw, bleeding until they were useless against the stones.

  “Into the fire, Mother, into the flames. Tonight we take your baby and dine on your pain,” Anja sang.

  Juliana reached for the stone woman’s leg. The female statue stepped back, out of her reach, not moving otherwise.

  “Into the fire, into the flames!” Anja chanted louder, repeating herself as she hopped up onto the fire’s ledge. “Into the fire, into the flames!”

  Lucien stopped moving, bending over to get a better hold on her. He let go of her now-bruised thigh only to grab for her wrist. Juliana tried to slap at him, but her body ached. Labor pains racked her and her journey over the jagged floor had left her scraped and bleeding. Her raw skin stung with a constant throbbing.

  “No hope, dear Mothe
r, no hope at all. No one can save you,” Anja said into her ear.

  Juliana growled in outrage, swinging her hand into the child’s grayed hair. By sheer will, she pulled the girl forward, throwing her toward the fire pit. Anja screamed, her limbs flailing in the air. And then suddenly, she was gone, her little body disappearing as it entered the pit.

  “You go into the flames,” Juliana said to the creaking stillness.

  Lucien’s arm swept under her neck and the other beneath her legs. He lifted her into his unbreakable embrace, stepping up onto the ledge around the fire. Juliana gripped his neck, holding tight in hopes that he couldn’t get her off him to throw her in. But, instead of prying her off, the statue jumped with her into the fire. All around her was agony and pain, searing her flesh, boiling her blood, drying the moisture from her skirt. And, as she had no choice but to let the pain take her, she whispered, “Merrick, forgive…”

  Chapter Twelve

  “I swear I saw him cross our path,” William insisted, pointing into the forest in the direction that led away from the palace. “King Merrick is in these woods. We must find him before he gets too far. Going to his palace will do no good if he is not there.”

  “He will go there eventually,” Thomas said.

  “But who will let us in?” William asked. “The goblins? I wager he has orders that no one enters unless he’s there. The way will be blocked.”

  “Then we will camp outside his door until we find a way inside.” Thomas was close to Juliana, even time could not sever their bond. Knowing that she was in trouble clearly ate at him.

  Hugh studied Thomas carefully. The closer they got to the Black Palace, the more anxious he had become. It wasn’t the first change the faery king noted in Thomas since his brother had come unexpectedly. Aside from the exhaustion, the differences were subtle, hard to see at first, but they became apparent to one who’d known him all his life.