The Queen's Crown (Court of Midnight and Deception Book 3)

by K. M. Shea

  She started up the stairs. “C-c-Director Washington,” she called when she reached the top stair. She paused and muttered, “dang it,” under her breath, then fixed her shoulders and stomped her way over to Chase and Linus.

  I watched her go with both amusement and sympathy.

  “She is a fighter,” I said.

  Blue Moon tried to rub his forehead against my shoulder and almost knocked me over.

  I rubbed his head with my hands, scratching the spots he was trying to reach.

  Able to hear bits of Chrysanthe’s stilted attempts at conversation, I shook my head.

  But I’ve got to admire her guts! Even in the face of rejection she just rolls with it.

  I scooted closer to Blue Moon and leaned into his shoulder and neck as I thought.

  Maybe that’s what I should do, too. Just roll with Rigel’s rejection. Instead of fretting about it, I should see it as a challenge. I mean, I know he likes me enough I’d be willing to say he thinks we’re friends.

  Maybe one day I could trick him into falling in love with me.

  I pressed my lips together and glanced at Twilight, who was sniffing at the pockets of my clothes, looking for a treat.

  “It’s a sound idea,” I said. “I’m not very good at playing the part of dejected damsel. Yep, let’s give it a shot! Rigel won’t know what hit him!”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Leila

  I could tell I was getting to be a little more “popular” among my nobles, because now they wanted to stick their oar in all kinds of stuff they hadn’t cared about before.

  I suspected they hadn’t bothered me earlier because when I first showed up they hated me, and after I got married to Rigel they were too terrified.

  Don’t get me wrong—some of them still disliked me, and there was an ocean of varying opinions out there. But at least they respected me enough to now care and participate in the Court events.

  But wow, I sometimes wish they didn’t.

  “The ski trip is a tradition—you cannot cancel it! It would give the Court a chance to bask in your presence for a full week!” said Lord Philon, one of the few lords in my Court who was so old he actually looked old. Not as old as the Paragon, but his hair was more white than black, and wrinkles around the corners of his eyes and his forehead gave him a distinguished air.

  The fae lord cleared his throat and kept pace with me as I walked through my mansion, following along behind Skye—who was leading me to the portrait gallery.

  “I beg you to reconsider, Queen Leila,” Lord Philon said.

  It could be worse. He’s just expressing his opinions. He—and the rest of my nobles—haven’t tried to manipulate or bully me into doing what they want, and when I really put my foot down on a decision, they respect it.

  I chuckled to myself.

  It’s almost like I’m a queen or something!

  “Queen Leila, are you listening?”

  “No,” I said honestly. “I decided ages ago the annual ski trip was out—I’m not paying for you all to go lounge around in expensive ski lodges at the Court’s expense. If you guys are so eager to go skiing, then go.”

  “But it’s the act of going together—it brings the Court together,” Lord Philon insisted.

  “The Court can get together on the sledding day I’m scheduling.” I followed Skye—who was leading our little procession into the portrait gallery. Rigel was just ahead of us, but Indigo lagged in the back with Kevin and Steve—my shades.

  Although I wasn’t a fan of all the flawless portraits of dead monarchs, I liked how sunny and warm the gallery felt—probably because the walls were covered with fern green wallpaper with baroque swirls instead of the ever constant dark blue/dark purple and silver/white color scheme the rest of the mansion had going on.

  “Give it up, Lord Philon,” Lady Ambrosia said. She was trailing a few steps behind us with Lord Iason and Lady Theodora—the pair who’d helped fight off the spiders.

  Lord Philon sighed. “Thank you for listening, Queen Leila,” he finished as we stopped next to the glass display case.

  I had to do a double take when I saw the case—last time I was here there were traditional Japanese tea ceremony implements. This time there was a sturdy white tea set with a hand painted blue flower pattern on the teapot and cups.

  I wonder if I could convince everyone to let me get a coffee maker if I got myself an artistic coffee set or something.

  I shook the thought from my head and focused on Lord Philon. “Cheer up. Maybe you’ll enjoy the sledding day—whenever I find somewhere free for us to go to that’s big enough for the whole Court.” I patted him on the shoulder, and was gratified to see he didn’t jump this time.

  When I first started touching members of my Court they shied away like beaten animals…which made me doubly glad Hazel and Killian had offed the apparently abusive Queen Nyte.

  I glanced up at the walls of the portrait gallery—which were lined with rows upon rows of dead Night Court monarchs.

  Queen Nyte was somewhere up there—on the highest row where her portrait was unlikely to be noticed. It was a small revenge on a queen who had caused so much pain, but based on what I knew of her, being forgotten and no longer feared was the greatest revenge my Court could have on her.

  I glanced at Lord Philon and his pack. “Was that all?”

  “It was,” he admitted.

  “But aren’t you here to reveal your royal portrait?” Lord Iason asked.

  “Yep.”

  “Then we request permission to stay and witness it,” Lady Ambrosia said.

  I laughed. “I’m not really sure you’ll want to see it…”

  “Are you ready, my Sovereign?” Skye asked.

  I cackled. “Am I ever!”

  “You are evil,” Indigo imparted as she trundled past me, veering around Rigel to join Skye at my portrait—which was covered with a velvet curtain. Kevin and Steve were right behind her, until they reached Rigel. Then they stopped to sniff his boots.

  The four nobles—who had intercepted me on my way here—clustered behind me, totally unprepared for what they were about to witness.

  I smirked at Skye and Indigo. Indigo shook her head at me, but Skye struggled to stomp out the smile that curved on her lips as she ripped off the curtain and revealed a thing of absolute beauty.

  The portrait artist—a long suffering gnome—had painted it exactly as I had envisioned.

  While all of the portraits in the gallery were a traditional painting of the king or queen in an expensive gown, wearing the crown and holding their artifact, I was dramatically draped over Solstice’s side, my hand stretching out to Eclipse.

  Muffin and Whiskers lounged near Solstice’s hooves, the claws on their massive paws stretched in front of them—the artist had even captured Muffin in a yawn that showed off her teeth.

  Steve and Kevin were positioned by Eclipse, their glowing eyes and flickering fur making them look like wolves forged out of shadows.

  Painted behind us—the only one with a normal/not overly dramatic expression—stood Rigel. He was wearing his Wraith jacket with the high collar and the split tail, and was holding a sword and a gun. He was so deadly and so perfectly painted, you could almost believe he’d step out of the portrait and kill anyone who dared to laugh at it.

  That was the whole point, though, to look ridiculous. Even back when I’d been informed I had to sit for a royal portrait, I was aware the Night Court had only experienced fear of their monarchs for a long time. I was bent on changing that.

  Behind me, I heard the satisfying combination of horrified gasps and disgusted gags from my nobles.

  I whirled around and grinned at them. “What do you think?”

  “It’s very…it’s rather…” Lady Theodora tried to say, but her inability to lie was making it hard to come up with a non-offensive description.

  Lord Iason stared at the portrait. “This is another one of your jokes, isn’t it? Like using a trash griffin as your p
ersonal seal.”

  “The pigeon-raccoon-griffin is a very noble creature, I’ll have you know,” I said.

  Lady Ambrosia flatly stared at me.

  I laughed and strolled closer to the painting—which was already fixed in a thick frame with fancy golden molding. “The artist did a fantastic job. She perfectly captured the night mares, glooms, and shades—and my exquisitely dramatic expression. Don’t you think so, Rigel?” I asked.

  “In seeing it now, I’m surprised you didn’t ask her to put a coffee pot in your hand,” Rigel dryly said. Both shades were leaning against his legs like overgrown puppies as they stared hopefully up at him.

  I gasped and slapped a hand over my heart. “You’re right! Why didn’t I think of that?”

  “Probably due to your unholy glee that you were posing—to quote you—like a gothic romance heroine,” Rigel said. He gave in and scratched behind Steve’s ears, and the shade wagged her tail as her pink tongue rolled out of her mouth.

  Lord Philon made a noise of distress somewhere behind us.

  I grinned and backed up so I could see the effect of my ridiculous portrait on the wall of regal and perfect paintings.

  It was a splash of color among somber hues—and a blemish on the so-perfect-it-was-boring display of paintings.

  “It’s wonderful,” I said. “This was one royal duty that was a real pleasure to carry out. Thanks for showing it to me, Indigo, Skye.”

  “Yeah, I figured it would be interesting,” Indigo said.

  Skye flipped her tablet cover open. “Speaking of royal duties, there is one you must begin pondering so you can declare it by the end of February.”

  I heard the rustling of skirts—the lords and ladies were starting to make their retreat from the gallery.

  “And what duty would that be?” I asked.

  “Founding a holiday. It’s tradition that each monarch declares a Court-wide day of celebration that is marked every year as long as the monarch lives,” Skye said. “Some previous holidays were: celebration of the last harvest moon of the year, the holiday of the first new moon of the year, celebration of music, the holiday of nighttime tea—one monarch who was particularly fond of Christmas even made a second Christmas that was to be celebrated in mid-January.” Skye glanced at me as she finished her list. “Queen Nyte was obviously the last monarch to make a holiday. She declared her birthday as a day of celebration.”

  “Wow,” I said. “Self-important, much?”

  Skye shrugged. “Several monarchs throughout the Night Court’s history have made their birthdays a holiday.”

  “I bet the Original King made his birthday a Court holiday,” I said.

  Skye narrowed her eyes. “He did not. His was the holiday of nighttime tea.”

  “Oh, tea. Yeah, that suits him.” I tapped my lips. “I’ll have to think about it, but I’m tempted to have ‘pet appreciation day’ or something similar.”

  “What?”

  Just when they were about to cross the threshold into the hallway, Lord Philon, Lord Iason, Lady Theodora, and Lady Ambrosia returned, gliding as fast as they possibly could while still retaining their fae gracefulness.

  “A day in appreciation of animals? Did I hear you say such a thing, Queen Leila?” Lord Philon pleaded.

  “I don’t get why you’re surprised I’d support a pet-focused holiday.” I jerked my thumb over my shoulder at my portrait.

  As if they understood what I was saying—which, knowing all of my adorable pets, they probably did—Kevin and Steve abandoned Rigel and stood on either side of me.

  “I’m not surprised,” Lady Theodora dryly said.

  Lord Iason nodded, agreeing with her.

  “It is not surprising,” Lady Ambrosia delicately said. “But it’s a very…different sort of holiday from what has traditionally been celebrated.”

  “Based on Skye’s list, I’m not at all interested in any of the traditional celebrations. I don’t like tea, and to be honest I think you guys need to lay off your obsession with night time—at least a little bit. I mean, I love using blue for inner décor, but would it kill us to add in some bright colors?” I asked.

  I was mostly just trying to ruffle their feathers, and I wasn’t disappointed by the way Lady Theodora rolled her eyes and Lord Philon staggered in shock.

  “Queen Leila, I must beg you to think the matter over carefully,” Lord Philon said. “It will be recorded in our history and viewed as a mark of your reign.”

  “Oh.” I smirked, and Lord Philon’s healthy olive complexion paled considerably as I stretched my hand out to Rigel. “In that case, I propose a national holiday to celebrate Consort Rigel’s—”

  “Not his abs!” Lord Iason yipped.

  Rigel crossed the small gap between us. He hesitated at taking my hand and settled for offering out his arm—apparently I had love cooties now. Which was stupid considering he was the one who had initiated hand holding at the theater!

  “I wasn’t going to say his abs.” I smirked at my nobles. “Didn’t you hear? I turned over a new leaf—I appreciate Rigel for far more than his physical traits, which are only a fraction of the charms he has to offer. No, I was going to say a national holiday to celebrate Consort Rigel’s engaging sense of humor.”

  All four of the nobles peered at Rigel, in clear doubt that he had any trace of humor—but of course they weren’t going to tell the assassin that.

  “Pet Appreciation Day sounds marvelous,” Lady Ambrosia said.

  “Even if we don’t have a pet of our own surely we can go to an animal shelter of some sort and cavort with animals for the day, maybe distribute gold coins to the employees?” Lord Philon suggested.

  “I could host an event,” I said. “I have plenty of pets to go around.”

  Once again, the nobles moved as one—this time to peer at me. They lowered their eyes to Steve and Kevin.

  Kevin was sitting down obediently at my side, but Steve remained standing and was watching them, her crimson eyes glowing.

  “Maybe I should adopt a house cat,” Lord Iason said. “Then I can celebrate Pet Appreciation Day from home so I might have a, herm, full appreciation for the day.”

  “A cat might be nice, yes,” Lady Ambrosia said.

  “I think a fish might suit my lifestyle more,” Lady Theodora said.

  I tried to hold a straight expression. “Oh, I can understand if you’d wish to stay home if you have your own pet.”

  “Good,” Lord Iason bluntly said.

  “But I’m glad you agree my original idea of Pet Appreciation Day is a good holiday. Of course, I’m still open to celebrating Consort Rigel,” I said.

  “You might feel that way, Queen Leila, but the fact is there is only one Consort Rigel—which would make celebrating him a little difficult because you can’t very well pass him around. And I believe a Pet Appreciation Day might make us all come to understand your love of animals a little more,” Lady Theodora said.

  “But—” Lord Philon raised a finger.

  “Come along, Lord Philon. The queen does have a marked interest in animals. It’s a fine holiday to mark her reign. We should go, now, and think of what kind of pet you should get.” Lord Iason threw an arm over the older fae lord’s shoulders and spun him around.

  I held in my laughter as the four nobles hurried off, moving much faster than they had last time.

  “But—” Lord Philon tried again.

  “Enough,” Lady Ambrosia hissed. I was pretty sure she was being quiet, but the portrait gallery was huge and empty so it echoed oddly, which meant I could still hear them. “Push too hard and our queen will choose something truly mischievous.”

  “Like what?” Lady Theodora asked.

  “I don’t know—a remembrance day of the love between Queen Leila and Consort Rigel, maybe?” Lady Ambrosia paused on the threshold of the portrait gallery to glance at her fellow noble.

  Lord Philon made a noise of disbelief as he and the others joined her in the hallway, their voices growi
ng muffled. “Don’t be silly, Ambrosia. The Wraith is incapable of warm emotions—love among them—and our queen is too smart to fall into that trap.”

  I frowned, but I didn’t know if I should call them out. Lord Philon hadn’t spoken with hatred, but seemed more factual.

  I swiveled to face Rigel.

  Rigel noticed my frown and shrugged. “I am an assassin. I cultivated a certain image.”

  “It’s still rude,” I grumbled. “Though apparently I should be flattered that they think I’m smarter than I am?”

  Rigel looked away from me. “You should take it as a warning.”

  “Why?”

  “Because they’re right,” he said. “I’m not one of your pets that can be rescued.”

  I stepped in front of Rigel, making him look at me. “I don’t know what you’re getting at, but I didn’t fall in love with you because I think I can change you.”

  “Oh?”

  “No! I didn’t even fall in love with you because of your abs!”

  Rigel leaned in, his eyes narrowed and his voice hot. “Then what about me could you possibly love?”

  My heart ached for Rigel in that moment—because he obviously didn’t see anything in himself that was worthy of love.

  “Because I enjoy being with you,” I answered honestly. “You make me laugh. You protect me when there’s a fight, and you let me hog the blankets in your bed when I’m feeling lonely. And while I’m still ticked that you didn’t think to even text me when you were gone for so long, I’m pretty certain you didn’t do it to hurt me.”

  Rigel stared at me for several long moments. Slowly, he reached out with his left hand. Just before he brushed my cheek with his fingers—which were so close I could practically feel the heat of his skin—he yanked his hand back as if he’d been burned.

  He turned his back to me and sauntered off, leaving the portrait gallery and tapping his fae magic as soon as he reached the shadows, using his powers to jump out of sight.