Queen of Storms

by C. N. Crawford

  I breathed out slowly. That was one problem dealt with.

  Now what?

  I couldn’t leave Oren here. I’d be tracking blood all the way back to my room. I needed to hide him somewhere and clean up the mess.

  I tightened my blood-covered fists. Dread blazed in my mind. If only I knew a corpse-dissolving spell….

  I scanned the hallway, my thoughts churning like hurricane clouds. Every second that passed increased the possibility that some knight would pop out of their room and find me. This hallway was impossibly long, stretching on forever in both directions, and I had no idea where I was. I’d been running in a panic.

  What if I was near the Nathair now? Or the Reaper? What the hells was a Reaper, anyway?

  Before panic could sink its claws fully into my heart, I knelt and grabbed Oren by his feet. I started pulling the body, blood and gore streaking the stone behind him. I spotted a door a few feet away from me and headed for it. Oren’s head lolled to the side, and while he left smears of blood, he was no longer spraying it everywhere.

  The bastard was heavy. Dragging him wasn’t easy, and I suppressed my grunts. But through sheer force of will, I reached the door.

  I let Oren’s legs fall, then pressed my ear against the wood, listening with my keen fae senses. Nothing on the other side. No snoring, no talking. Could be a quiet sleeper. If someone was dreaming in there, I could hit them with another sleep spell to make sure they didn’t wake.

  With trembling fingers, I turned the handle and slowly inched the door open, holding my breath. When the door creaked, the sound set my skin on fire.

  I froze, but I didn’t hear anyone stir. Just a dark, silent room. When I was sure I heard no one’s breath but my own, I moved farther into the room, bumping up against a wall. How small was this space?

  I summoned a glowing orb of light.

  By all the grace of the Storm God, I found myself in a closet. Relief filled me as I spotted the shelves and brooms and buckets. And what’s more, the heavy oak door would mask the blood scent.

  I grabbed Oren as fast as I could and dragged him inside. The space wasn’t huge, just a few square feet, but it was enough to stuff Oren inside and sit him upright against one of the walls. When I let him go, his head slumped to the side, and he tipped over against a shelf.

  Good. Task number two completed. Body hidden, even if it wasn’t well hidden.

  I swallowed hard, looking down at my blood-soaked hands, the blood pooling all over the floor. Luckily, a bucket of rags stood on one of the shelves in here. Would they be enough? I could try, anyway, starting with the bottoms of my feet so I wouldn’t leave a trail of bloody footprints everywhere I went.

  Frantic now, I grabbed the rags and scrubbed the blood off the soles of my bare feet.

  Then, I headed back to the scene of the crime. No, not crime. No crime here. This was clearly self-defense. No jury would convict, and Taru could not reasonably complain if he’d seen the whole thing.

  Mind racing, I knelt, but the rags barely soaked up any blood at all. After only a couple of moments, I was holding a soggy, dripping mass of disturbingly warm fabric that felt more like someone’s guts than a rag.

  Bloody hells.

  I dropped the rags, and they hit the ground with a squelch. I was up to my elbows in blood, now. There was no way I’d be able to clean it all up with little bits of cotton cloth. A cleaning spell…. Why had I never learned a cleaning spell? Oh, right. I didn’t give a hobo’s hat about cleanliness.

  Options and possibilities raced through my mind like bullets firing out of a machine gun.

  That was when I heard voices again, and adrenaline shot through my blood. Were those the guards I’d heard earlier?

  There wasn’t exactly a reasonable explanation for this state of affairs—me in the hallway at midnight, barefoot and looking like Carrie at prom. What are you doing there, miss? Oh, I just like to bathe in blood sometimes. Keeps the skin fresh, and also I like having flies buzzing around me at all times. You know how it goes. Regular girl stuff.

  Frantic now, I scanned my immediate surroundings. Nothing but dark hallways, a bloody floor, and a mess of disgusting rags at my feet. I ducked around a corner, hiding myself.

  “T-T-Taru.” The word stuck to the back of my teeth, like the God was cursing me, rejecting me. “M-M-Mighty Storm God, ruler of tempests, bringer of fire, empower your servant with the gift of m-m-magic. Grant me your strength.”

  I didn’t have to invoke the Storm God for my magic to work, but it helped in tough spots. This definitely counted as a tough spot.

  Magic moved through me like a wave, crashing out of me and spilling into the world. Lightning hammered the castle’s outer walls, thunder roaring so loudly it made my chest vibrate. Pressure started to build in the very air, the charge making the hairs on my arms stand on end. The walls shook, then the ground trembled.

  I peered around the corner at the two lumbering guards, moving closer toward me.

  “Do you smell that?” one of them said. “Smells like blood, don’t it?”

  I hurled my magic down the hall. When the two fae came into view, they were already looking around at the rumbling, trembling walls, now distracted from the blood scent.

  “What the hells is that? Do you hear that?” one of them asked.

  “The lightning? Of course I do, I’m not deaf.”

  The first fae pointed straight ahead. “No,” he yelled, “that!”

  Across from them, barreling down the far end of the hallway, came a massive wave of frothing water.

  At the sight of it, my eyes widened, and ice sank into the pit of my stomach. I hadn’t meant to call up quite that much water, though it would certainly clean up the blood. The wave barreled down the long hall, heading right for me. The fae turned on their heels and ran.

  My stomach swooped, and I took off in a sprint after them.

  “Guiding light,” I whispered as I ran, “take me back to my room.” Like a butterfly fluttering out of my palm, the silver ball popped into the air and zoomed down the hall in front of me.

  At least the rushing water would wash away all traces of Oren’s blood, even if it would probably also wake up half the castle. I was hedging my bets that a small tidal wave ripping through their corridors would distract them from the fact that Oren was missing, or that a stray unsworn was running around looking like a serial killer.

  I heard fae screaming in the halls now, trying to figure out what was happening, but I kept my focus on the little silver ball.

  Adrenaline coursed through my veins. I turned corner after corner, running at full speed, bare feet slapping the stones. After a few turns, the roar of water fell away behind me. I stole a quick glance back, relieved to find the wave dying down.

  At last, I reached my corridor, completely winded. Mercifully, it was empty. The Nathair wasn’t standing around, listening to wave noises.

  Careful not to make too much noise, I snuck back into Helgar’s room and stalked along his farthest wall. The sleep spell still had him entirely knocked out, and his snores rang off the ceiling. Pretty sure he wouldn’t have woken up even if his arse was on fire.

  While he slept, I uttered the charm to unlock the door to my room, my hands trembling a little.

  I sighed with relief when I got back into my room to find Ree sleeping soundly. I closed the door behind me, catching my breath.

  Then, I pulled off the bloodied clothes I wore. I still didn’t have a bra, since I’d come here naked and wasn’t about to ask the Nathair for one. Since they were the only set of clean clothes I had right now, I needed to do my best to wash out the blood.

  I snatched my water glass from the dresser and poured a bit of water all over myself, washing off the blood as best I could. Shivering, I shoved my blood-soaked clothes into a small gap between the cot and the wall.

  Something had the hair rising on the back of my neck, and it took me a moment to realize what it was—just the tiniest tinge of draconic magic skimming
over my naked skin.

  He’s coming. The bloody dragon. Surely a beast like him could hear my heart from here? It sounded like a fist against a door.

  Fear stole my breath. I dove into the bed, yanked up the sheets, and rolled over. But relief moved over me when I heard him move on—probably leaving to investigate the little tidal wave situation I’d created.

  I heaved a sigh, but I wasn’t completely out of danger yet. Oren’s corpse was still slumped in a closet. That wasn’t going to go unnoticed. And where was Wren?

  Not in the dungeons, apparently. I pulled the little bag of herbs from the pocket of my bloody clothes, then carefully hid it under my mattress.

  Bugger. Where else would she be?

  My stomach dropped.

  I wasn’t too late, was I?

  Chapter 18

  It had been a sleepless night. A sleepless night of worrying about Wren and of sneaking into Helgar’s room once more. And what if Ree woke up and smelled the blood? Sure, she’d been nice so far. But I didn’t trust anyone except Wren. It had always been that way.

  After an hour of lying awake in bed, I’d crept into Helgar’s room, naked. I’d pushed open his window and started washing my bloodied clothes out in the rain, watching him for signs of movement, but it was taking too long so I went one step further. I let them drop. Gone. No more blood.

  No more clothes either, unfortunately.

  It must have been nearly morning by the time I finally fell asleep, dreaming of pancakes—and the Nathair’s silky voice woke me with a start.

  “My room, now,” he said.

  I blinked, looking around the room. Sunlight streamed in through the open door. Ree had already left for the morning, so it was just me and Dragon Man. His dark shirt was unbuttoned a little at the front, and I could see angry red scars on his chest. Gifts from Taru. His silvery magic twisted into the room, strangely warm on my skin. And disturbingly pleasurable. I shifted under the sheets.

  It took me a moment to remember I was stark naked under the covers. Pulse racing, I pulled the sheets up over my shoulders.

  He cocked his head, eyes sliding to where my bare shoulder had been exposed a moment ago. He went very still, like a lion about to attack, and darkness flashed in his eyes. He’d obviously noticed the bare shoulders, but he hadn’t said anything yet. In fact, we were just staring at each other rather awkwardly.

  On the plus side, he wasn’t blaming me for Oren’s death. Yet.

  “You want me to go into your room?” I asked, stalling.

  Little issue, here. Even if he left me alone to get dressed, I didn’t have any clothes to wear. During the night, I’d hoped that the little pixie who delivered our meals and fresh clothes would’ve shown up by now, but there were no fresh, dry clothes at the end of my bed. So how did I explain this?

  “Is there a problem?” he asked, his commanding voice like velvet on my skin. He wasn’t budging from the doorway.

  So, what the hells was I supposed to do right now?

  It was a good thing I’d been blessed with a quick mind.

  I slid my legs off the side of the bed and tightened the bedsheet around me. Holding it in position with one hand, I crossed closer to the Nathair. He stayed right where he was, and when I reached him, I looked up at him.

  He didn’t budge. He stared at me with an intensity I’d never seen on him before, gray eyes burning like lightning. I couldn’t quite read his expression.

  Warm magic caressed my body. Dragon magic. Why had no one ever told me that dragon magic felt seductive, like it was luring me to him? I clenched my jaw, reminding myself that this man would execute me—and Wren—in a heartbeat. I thought of him in his draconic form, swooping over cities, burning them down. Don’t let a pretty face fool you, darling.

  He leaned against the door frame, and I glanced at the dark scales on the back of his hand. The Nathair cocked one of his eyebrows, slid off the doorframe, and went into his room. I followed with the bedsheet wrapped around me like a bath towel.

  “What are you wearing?” he purred.

  “Nothing.” A little shrug. Act casual, Cora.

  His eyes narrowed, and for an instant I thought they sailed across the shape of my body like fingertips. “Nothing?”

  “Mister Nathair, you look like a man who cares about how the world perceives him.”

  His eyebrows arched. “Mister Nathair?”

  “Well, I don’t actually know your name, so that’s what I’m having to call you … in my head, at least.”

  “My name is not your concern.”

  “Right, that’s why I didn’t ask for it. You actually cut me off while I was making my point.”

  “You have a point? How refreshing.” His gray eyes sparkled.

  I took a breath. “As I was saying … you act bored, but you like to look good, don’t you? You enjoy being admired.”

  “Admired isn’t the word I would use. Worshipped, perhaps.”

  I stared at him. “Wow, your ego is certainly impressive. Anyway, I was thinking—”

  “I’m not sure that’s wise.”

  “—my performance in these trials directly impacts the way you are perceived, doesn’t it? You’re supposed to be my mentor.”

  “It also impacts on whether or not you get to keep your life,” he said in a casual tone.

  “Right. But my point is, I’ll be representing you. The Nathair. A creature born to be worshipped.” Was I laying it on too thick?

  The intensity had left his eyes now, and he’d adopted his usual bored, disdainful expression. “You’re representing me and our house.”

  “Don’t you think I should look a little more impressive? Two of your House Dorcha members are dressed like peasants. It makes you look bad. We should be elegant, like you.”

  “I think you may have overestimated the degree to which I care what others think.” He cocked his head. “Though the idea of dressing you up could be diverting. What if I say no, that you can just compete your trials naked as you were when you arrived?”

  Yeah, there was always that possibility. “You could make that decision,” I said in a low voice. “But if you make that decision, I’ll tell you to piss right off. Do you want me to tell you what’ll happen next?”

  He angled his head to the other side, his stoic expression registering a bit more interest. “Amuse me.”

  “You’ll call me insubordinate, threaten to execute me, blah, blah. But powerful as you are, you’ve seen my magic, too. You ripped it right out of my chest without my permission. You know what I can do. I’ll make you hurt a long time after you kill me. I’ll make you wish you were dead.”

  “What makes you think I don’t already?” he murmured.

  I blinked. “What?”

  When he didn’t respond, I went on.

  “Look, you know that I’m the best unsworn in the House Dorcha, and you don’t want to lose me. I don’t really understand why the Institute needs a witch here so badly, but whatever the case, you know I’m the best. Not to mention the fact that Taru matched us.”

  “The Storm God. That attention-seeking whore, always demanding more, desperate for adulation. Feed me souls, prove that you adore me. I really don’t give a dented ha’penny what he thinks.” His eyes never left mine, and for the briefest of moments, I thought I saw a faint flash of rage pierce his serene exterior. Then, his usual mask of calm returned to his perfect features.

  “A dented ha’penny,” I repeated. “You really are old as the rocks, aren’t you? But more importantly, I’m frankly shocked Taru didn’t strike you down for what you said.”

  I wanted to ask why he was here if he didn’t care about Taru, but that would be getting us sidetracked. And there’s no way he’d tell me anyway.

  “I’m not putting the old clothes back on. So, can I get a better outfit or do you have to kill me?”

  A quick flick of his eyes up and down my body. Then, he traced a lazy fingertip over my bare shoulder. The casual gesture made me shiver, my eyes loc
ked on him. My body responded to him in a very unsettling way—and I was pretty sure he knew it. Which kind of made me want to die.

  He looked infinitely amused, eyes sparkling. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with the giant bloody wave that crashed through our fortress last night, would it?”

  I felt the blood drain from my face. Play dumb. Play dumb. “A wave? Of water?”

  “No, of enthusiastic football spectators waving their arms about. Yes, a wave of water.” “Nope.” Good answer. Simple.

  He stroked a hand over his chin. “You’ll be wearing only a sheet until I agree to your terms?” he asked softly.

  “Yes. And Ree should get new clothes, too.”

  “Ree?”

  “My roommate. Don’t you know her name?”

  “Is there some reason I should?”

  “I guess not….” I trailed off, waiting for him to finally come to a decision. I was starting to notice that his room was a little colder than I was used to. He’d drawn his warm magic back into himself, and I actually missed it. The cold marble on my feet was making my toes numb. “Look, I know you can just make clothing with your magic. You made the dress for me. You already know my size.”

  Something dangerous twinkled in his eyes. “You liked the feel of it on your body, didn’t you? You’ll wear whatever I make for you, understood?” That slow, lazy fingertip tracing over the bedsheet again—then, onto the bare skin at my neck. A strange thrill rippled through me as he leaned in to whisper, “But Cora, do not make the mistake of thinking you are indispensable. You are not.”

  I nodded, fully aware that if I spoke now, I’d stutter. I could not care less how I looked. I just needed something not drenched by seawater, ripped open by a knife … and thrown into the sea.

  “Your next trial is later today,” he went on. “But first, I want you to help me with something. I want your help in finding Oren. He didn’t show up for morning worship, and the Grand Master has asked me to track him down. I might need your witch skills.”

  My stomach fell to the floor. In my mind, I got a flash of Oren’s corpse sitting in that little closet, slumped against the wall. How long till they smelled him? A day, perhaps?