Beside me, Liri stiffened.
“She only says that because I am wearing one,” I let Liri know. Fae, for all their cunning and powers, didn’t always pick up on subtleties.
“My sister is jealous.” Liri nodded with understanding. “I will find something else for her.”
Sure, rewarding snotty behavior sounded like the way to go. At least Liri looked like he was having fun, which I enjoyed seeing, especially since I was the one who had pushed for this outing. Staying cooped up for too long in the castle didn’t seem healthy. The only times Liri had gotten out in the past were to occupy Cirrus in his explorations. After Cirrus died, Liri kept to the castle. He’d even sent Galather and Folas to bring Aerith back to Dahlquist rather than fetch her himself. Not exactly the grand romantic gesture if he’d truly wished to win her over.
Liri steered our group to a long line. At the front of the line, Fae were handing over yellowish rolls shaped like hockey pucks that were being nibbled and stuffed into mouths.
A male in a blue doublet glanced back then did a double take when he saw Liri. He leaned into the couple in front of him and whispered, “the king.” The news rolled like a wave down the line, causing it to part all the way to the front.
A pleased smile lifted Liri’s lips when a clear path to the front of the line opened before us. He strode forward with our group in tow. Up at the front, I could see three large pots over open flames, bubbling with oil. One female manned all three, removing the yellow-tinted biscuits from the oil with long metal tongs before replacing them with raw scoops of dough.
Liri ordered us each two while Folas paid.
I bit into the first one as we walked away. “Mmm.” My eyes briefly closed.
“Do you like it, dear Hensley?”
“It reminds me of corn fritters back home.”
Liri’s smile faltered. “But these are better.”
“Much better.” I didn’t tell them it had been so long since I’d tasted one in the human world that it would be nearly impossible to compare. I polished off the second fritter then brushed the crumbs from my fingers.
“Oh!” Jastra gasped. She handed her floral crown and uneaten fritters to Galather then rushed past Liri and me to a table laden with jewelry. Displayed over a black cloth were silver pendants and beaded earrings. Jastra moved to the end of the table and stopped in front of a row of studded leather cuff bracelets.
Liri joined her. “Which one do you want?”
“The light blue one.”
Folas handed over coins before Liri even asked.
“Allow me,” Liri said, snapping the cuff over Jastra’s delicate wrist. A smile lifted his cheeks. “Yes, this suits you better.”
“The flowers are lovely”—Jastra cut a sly glance my way—“for children.” To accentuate the point, she took her crown from Galather and offered it to a young faerie who smiled at Jastra as though she’d just offered her the sun.
“What about me? Don’t I get something?”
For once I was glad for Ryo’s sullen behavior, which mirrored how I felt at the moment. I knew I couldn’t let Jastra get to me, but my heart wasn’t made of stone. Not like hers.
“There are some wooden swords for sale up ahead,” Galather said. He shared a look with his twin, and the two of them snickered.
“Good eye, Galather,” Liri said.
Ryo scowled. “I’m too old for wooden swords. Even the females got daggers.”
“Be glad I brought you at all.” Liri’s lips pressed into a firm line. He turned his back to Ryo, offering me an inquisitive smile. “Would you like a bracelet or a pendant, dear Hensley?”
“No, thanks. I like my flowers.”
“You can have both, you know.”
“The flowers are enough.”
Liri’s eyes went silvery, shining as he stared at me in wonder. He opened his mouth to say something but was cut short when a shout went through the crowd.
“The afternoon performance of Bella and the Goblin is beginning!”
The crowd surged toward one of the largest platforms where a ruggedly handsome blond male dressed in chain mail beckoned the audience to sit or stand. Blankets were laid out at the edge of the stage, and children rushed to take those spots. Several rows of long benches had been angled in a V pattern toward either side of the platform.
Liri spun to Galather, who said, “I’m on it. Come on, Ryo.” Galather grabbed Ryo’s arm and jerked him toward the stage.
Beside us, a tall dark-haired male blew fire from his mouth into the sky. It momentarily distracted the crowd around us, who froze to “ooh” and “aah.” Folas and Jastra started after Galather and Ryo.
Rough hands grabbed me around the waist, yanking me backward. Another burst of flames went into the sky, crackling and drowning out my cry of alarm. The crown of flowers was ripped from my hair.
Any second now Liri would notice what happened. He’d only released my arm for a moment. He would notice me gone. But when I looked at my group moving swiftly away, my eyes bugged open. Someone who looked like me was hurrying with them toward the stage. She was me, but she wasn’t—a woman in a red cloak. And she’d stolen my flowers!
Chapter Five
Hensley
A
ruthless chuckle froze the blood in my veins. Rough hands spun me around to face a cloaked male of medium build. When he pulled back his hood, eyes black as coals burned into mine. He had raven hair and a twisted smile.
“Malon,” I guessed. Even without the snarling wolf mask he’d worn at Teryani’s coronation ball, he looked vicious. I tried to calm my racing heart by reminding myself that I was still on festival grounds and my group wasn’t far away. Had they taken their seats? I didn’t want to turn my back to Malon and look. Instead, I lifted my chin. “Whatever decoy you have in place won’t last for long. Liri will know that woman isn’t me.”
Malon laughed. “Oh, but it is too easy. His attention is on the play.”
The lines around us emptied as faeries jogged toward the stage. No one gave me a second glance.
I reached into the deep pocket of my cloak and yanked out my dagger, pointing the sharpened tip at Malon’s neck. “Not as easy as you think.”
Malon flicked the briefest glance at the blade before laughing. His hands pressed together in muted applause. “Oh goodie, I hoped you’d make this fun. Now, be a good girl and position that blade where it belongs—against your neck.” His eyes lit up and lips lifted over gleaming teeth.
I did what he said, not because I had to, but because I wanted to see how far he’d take it.
Holding the blade carefully in front of my neck, I narrowed my eyes at Malon. “Killing me won’t gain your brother the crown.”
He smirked. “What would be the fun in killing you when the game is about to begin?”
“What game?” I demanded.
Malon cast a look around before lowering his voice. “Not here.” He looked pointedly at a nearby tent. “Come with me, and I will tell you everything, all of our grand plans for you, Hensley Allen. You know I’m incapable of lying. I will not hurt you.”
“Then let me be the one to hurt you.” I lunged at Malon with the knife.
He jumped aside at the last second, eyes widening for an instant. I spun around, dagger poised to strike. A blur of black twirled around me, and I found my hand empty of my weapon. Malon moved so quickly it was as though he materialized before me, holding the dagger by the end of the handle, the tip dangling toward the ground.
“My cousin had you protected against compulsion.” It wasn’t a question. The words were uttered with marvel. A smile returned slowly to Malon’s lips. “He really has lost his mind over a human. It will be easier than I thought to get him to play our game.”
My heart punched against my chest in warning. I took one leaping step in the opposite direction, catching the flash of silver as Malon dropped the blade, grabbed my waist, and pulled me back. I stomped my feet trying to land a heavy heel over Malon’s boot a
nd jabbed him in the ribs with my elbow. When that didn’t work I sucked in air, preparing to scream.
A hand clamped over my mouth. I tried to bite his fingers, but he’d locked my lips together in his grip. He dragged me toward the tent, pulling me through the narrow gap between flaps.
A burgundy rug covered the ground with large round cushions set aside a tall, standing mirror. Long swords were piled haphazardly near the entrance. I tried to reach for one but didn’t even come close as Malon imprisoned me in his iron grip. There was an untreated wood table set up at the far end of the tent, covered in pots of powder and glitter that spilled over the surface like confetti. Five male Fae in liveried costumes paused from applying rouge to their cheeks to gape at us.
“Everyone out,” Malon snarled.
Wordlessly, the males exited the tent, each grabbing a sword on the way.
What sort of Fable Festival was this? What happened to saving a damsel in distress? I guess there wasn’t much incentive when the maiden in question was human.
My blood boiled through my veins. I tried to go after them, no longer to escape, but to knock the men over the heads. I jerked my face to one side, freeing my mouth from Malon’s tight fingers. “This male is not your king! How dare you follow his command,” I yelled at the tent flaps.
Malon merely chuckled. “The show must go on. Isn’t that what you say in the mortal realm?” I looked at him in surprise. “Ah, yes,” he said, nodding. “I’ve visited your world, studied your species the way a lion watches his prey. I am the most cultured of our family. Cirrus shared my curiosity for other realms and beings. Too bad Liri killed him. Oh well. Payback’s a bitch.” Malon smiled maliciously. “This expression might be my favorite of all.”
“You might be able to kill me, but you’ll never get to Liri.”
“I told you we don’t want you dead.” A wicked grin cut through Malon’s cheeks. “On the contrary. We want to make your dreams come true. Isn’t that right, Isadore?”
I jerked my head around to see whom Malon addressed, but we were alone in the tent. Maybe on top of his cruelty he was insane—a dangerous combination. My uncertainty was put to rest when an image appeared in the mirror, a pale slender woman in a skimpy green dress baring one shoulder filled the glass. She grew nearer as though she was approaching a doorframe leading into the tent. Red scarflike material wrapped her waist and hung between her legs. A leather satchel sagged against one of her hips. Long white hair curtained part of her face and twisted over her clothed shoulder nearly reaching her slender waist. A horned skull clasped her belt and a necklace of teeth dangled over her chest. She looked both gorgeous and terrifying.
The female’s green boots were tight enough to blend in with her stockings as she lifted one leg and stepped out of the mirror.
She placed her hands on her hips and looked past me at Malon.
“I do not desire this mortal’s pleasure, but I do want to make Liri suffer the way he made me suffer.”
Malon looked at me and tsked.
“Never spurn a sorceress.”
My knees went weak. Going up against a high Fae was one thing, but a sorceress.
“What do you mean spurn?” I demanded.
I didn’t recognize this female with her dark eyebrows and even darker lashes and thick liner rimming her gray eyes. She stood nearly a foot taller than Malon, legs spread wide apart.
“Isadore and Liri were childhood friends—lovers,” Malon supplied with a sly grin, “long before you came along, mortal. But Isadore’s powers unnerved my cowardly Uncle Merith. He forbade her from stepping foot inside the castle the way he banned my family so many years ago. Merith kept such a close eye on Liri that it wasn’t possible to portal out and meet her in secret, which only left dreamscaping.”
“And oh, the plans we made during those visits,” Isadore said in a dreamy, sinister voice.
Malon frowned at her faraway look.
“But then Cirrus married an elf and Liri became obsessed with her,” his voice rose harsh and splintery.
Isadore’s brows dropped, slanting over her ink-lined eyes.
“Liri ceased his visits,” Malon continued, “cast this lovely beauty aside. And for what? An elf?”
“And now a human,” Isadore said in a cold voice that settled over my veins like frost.
“What do you want with me?” I demanded.
Isadore grinned.
“Shall I tell her, Malon, or do you want to do the honors?”
Malon smirked.
“I think it would sound sweeter coming from your lips,” he said.
“We should tell her together.”
When Isadore took a step toward me, I shrank back. She laughed.
“I will make you forget Liri. Forget everything of your time in Faerie. The moment a royal Fae crown touches your unworthy head you will be sent home to the mortal realm where you belong. If Liri wants you back, he will have to go to Earth and win you over without compulsion, glamour, or any mention of your history together.”
I tried to blink the two Fae away but they kept talking at me, sneering, reminding me I was powerless. Knowing what they were up to didn’t help matters—no more than blocking a bolt of lightning with a net.
Malon rubbed his hands together.
“And while Liri is away, my brother will take his place as king of Dahlquist, with my help and support.” Malon lifted his head, onyx eyes gleaming. “Unlike our cousins, we are loyal to one another. We understand how to use family to our advantage.”
“What about Lyklor? Is he in on your plan?” I demanded.
“Lyklor will not be a problem,” Malon said with an indifferent shrug. He looked at Isadore, speaking to her, not me. “The happier you make her, the longer it will take Liri to woo her back—if he manages it at all.”
“Then let’s find out what sort of life the human desires,” Isadore purred.
My mind screamed at me to run, but when I turned, the pale sorceress stood blocking my escape. She grabbed my head in both hands. Pressure built in my forehead, throbbing at my temples. My skull felt as though it would crack apart. I cried out.
Isadore squeezed tighter, pushing her hands as though my head was an accordion.
Moments from my past began to spin and twirl through my mind. Happy memories called to me through the fog.
The pressure on my brain lessened. I felt a buzzing like being drunk. In my head I was singing at my elementary school’s end-of-year pageant. The notes belted out of me with passion and clarity. At the end of the song, the auditorium erupted in applause.
Next, I was in an ice-blue leotard and skirt, leaping across the stage then landing gracefully on the balls of my feet. My vision blurred as I twisted and spun, lifting my arms into the air before spreading them to my sides. I dropped to the stage, rolled over, and lifted myself one-handed, my legs stretched open and back arched, head upside down. Then I dropped to my belly and lifted one leg high into the air. At the end of the performance, I was handed a gold-toned dance trophy.
I found myself on stage a third time wearing a petticoat beneath a long skirt and an apron. I stood with two other teenage girls playing the daughters of Tevye in Fiddler on the Roof. I was Chava, the youngest of the three, singing “Matchmaker.” We were reaching the end of the song, switching our tune, no longer eager to be set up with husbands who might not turn out as romantic and kind as we’d originally envisioned.
The chorus ended. The music stopped. The stage faded.
I sagged against Isadore. My bones were like elastic stretched too far, my body spent as though I’d been singing and dancing for hours on end without a break.
“Interesting,” Isadore breathed. “Serendipitous, really.”
She set me down on the rug and shared what she’d seen with Malon.
As soon as I had the strength to move, I lifted my head and stared at them. “Why did you do that?”
A wicked gleam returned to Malon’s eyes. “I already told you,” he said with eager del
ight. “We’re going to make your dreams come true. This is your chance at the life you always wanted on Earth. Isadore here has the power to make that happen.”
“With a few alterations to her memory,” Isadore said in a sickly sweet voice.
I reached inside my cloak pockets, willing another weapon to materialize in one of them. But they were empty. I had no way to defend myself against Malon and Isadore. If only Liri would notice I was no longer with him. If only he’d run, charging in to stop his cousin’s wicked plans.
Could Isadore truly make me forget Liri? Forget the love I felt for him? Erase him from my heart? Impossible! I wanted to cry.
“You will regain your memories of Liri only if he succeeds in making you fall in love with him,” Isadore said. She grinned. “But perhaps you will not find him as impressive if he comes to you in the guise of a mortal.”
“A nobody,” Malon cut in.
I glared at him. He was a fool if he thought I fell in love with Liri for his title.
“You will regain your memories of your time in Faerie only if Liri succeeds, as I said, without enchantments,” Isadore reminded. “And if he succeeds, you will not be able to return to Faerie ever again—not unless you want to lose your memories forever.”
Malon chuckled.
“Liri will have to decide what he wants more—you or the crown.”
I gaped at him.
“You mean—”
“—in order to stay together, my cousin would have to remain with you in the mortal realm.” Malon’s eyes glowed.
I swallowed. Liri would never give up his crown and the kingdom.
“He will not know this. Not until it is too late.” Malon’s teeth gave the appearance of sharpening when he smiled. “By the time he figures it out, my brother will wear the crown. Revenge, how sweet it is.”
“Yes, and now it is time to make her forget,” Isadore said, reaching into her satchel.
“Why not make it more fun?” Malon asked.
Isadore pulled out a small bottle and a knife, pausing to look at Malon.
“What did you have in mind?” she asked.
“A little preview of what’s to come.”
False Queen Page 6