The Wood Queen

by Karen Mahoney

  The earth moved—and not in the way she’d been hoping for—and her mind coalesced into a sharp point of need. Where did she need to be?

  There was a moment of clarity, and then nothing.

  Fourteen

  This time Donna landed on her hands and knees, already heaving but having nothing in her stomach to bring up. She was relieved they hadn’t gotten around to eating anything yet.

  She was half-dressed (barely even that) and somewhere in the middle of Ironbridge Common—with no money, no cell phone, and no idea of how the hell she was going to get back to Xan’s.

  Crap.

  And it was freezing.

  Donna sighed with relief when she felt the material of Xan’s black shirt clutched in her left hand. Thank you, thank you, she repeated to herself, not really sure who she was thanking but saying it anyway. Just in case.

  She tried to stand up, but her head and stomach had something unpleasant to say about that. Whatever was happening to her, she had to see Maker—and fast. Except, of course, Maker seemed to be good at his own sort of disappearing act lately. She looked down at her tattoos, which were spinning crazily around her hands and arms, and desperately wondered how she could hide them. She must look like she was holding two spitting, silver fireworks.

  God, this was not going to be easy to explain to a late passerby, or, worse, one of the Common’s night rangers.

  The air was middle-of-the-night cold, and Donna pulled on the shirt while wishing her feet weren’t bare. At least she still had her jeans on. She didn’t even feel embarrassed noticing that, so maybe she was finally getting over her stupid shyness about this kind of stuff. And making out with Xan hardly seemed important in the face of her current situation.

  She managed to pull herself upright, taking deep breaths as she slowly took in her surroundings. She knew Ironbridge Common so well, surely it wouldn’t be too difficult to figure out her exact location within it.

  Because life can’t possibly screw with me any more … right?

  She was relieved to see the faint glow of what must be the stylized street lamps that lined the main paths through the center of the Common. If she could see them from here, at least that meant she wasn’t too far from the most familiar, well-lit paths. Clenching her toes against the cold, damp grass, she began picking her way through the gloom.

  She was almost to the nearest lamp when her foot hit something sharp. She cursed, hoping it was just a stone or something relatively harmless, but by the way her heel stung, she suspected she’d just stepped on glass.

  Wincing, she tried to hop while keeping the lamp in view. She was going to have to reach the street somehow, find a cab, and get herself out of here.

  And hope she didn’t get mugged, or worse.

  Just as she had that particularly cheerful thought, she saw movement ahead of her. Half-expecting Ivy to appear—it wasn’t like things could get much worse—she tensed but kept going. There was someone waiting on the main path; someone tall was watching her approach.

  She heard a familiar voice that almost made her break down there and then. “Donna!”

  Xan burst into a run and within seconds was by her side, sweeping her into a bone-crushing hug and not letting go even when Donna gasped a protest. She could hardly breathe, but right at that moment she really didn’t care.

  “What happened?” He sounded frantic; it must have been terrifying for him to have her just … disappear like that. Literally in front of him. How would she have felt if things had happened the other way around? She would have thought some kind of dark magic had taken him away from her. She would have thought she’d lost him.

  Donna shuddered and burrowed deeper into his embrace. She didn’t want to think about losing Xan—not ever.

  Finally, he pushed her away but still kept a death grip on her upper arms. She wondered if she’d have bruises tomorrow, but didn’t have the heart to tell him he was hurting her.

  Xan was actually trembling. She could feel it all the way through his body as he held her. “Donna …” His voice was raw, almost as though he’d been shouting and had exhausted it. “You have to tell me what the fuck is going on. Tell me you’re okay, please …”

  She couldn’t hold back a sigh of relief when he finally released her, but she resisted the temptation to rub her arms. She didn’t want to make him feel bad. “I’m okay, really. See?” She tried to stand up straight, but the pain in her right heel was pretty agonizing now.

  He frowned. “You’re hurt.”

  How did he know that? “It’s just a scratch. I think I cut myself on a stone or something.”

  “Here,” he said, ignoring her protests. “Sit down, let me see.”

  Xan led her to a nearby bench—one directly beneath one of the brightest lamps in the Common’s central meeting point—and pressed her down onto it. He shrugged out of his coat and wrapped it around her shoulders, and Donna gratefully poked her arms through the way-too-big sleeves.

  She would really rather be getting back to the house, but Xan wasn’t going to budge until he’d seen where she’d been hurt.

  “How did you find me?” It was uncanny, the way he’d reached her so quickly—especially considering the way she’d exited his bedroom.

  For a moment, she thought Xan was going to avoid the question, but thankfully he met her eyes and nodded. It was as though he was confirming something to himself, or gathering the courage to tell the truth. “I haven’t been entirely honest with you about some things, Donna,” he said. He dropped his gaze and stopped, struggling to find the words. “I mean, it’s nothing really bad—I promise—but there are things I can do that I’ve been hiding.”

  She tried to smile, despite how cold she was out here. “That seems to be going around.”

  His lips twitched, but his expression was bleak. “It’s not that I don’t trust you; I’m just so used to keeping my abilities hidden. And I swear I’ve been telling the truth about how limited they are …”

  Donna touched his cheek. “But they’re not quite so limited as you first let on? It’s okay, I sort of figured that out. It’s why I called you to the hospital to see my mom, you know. And then you started glowing.”

  This time he did smile, and it was like the sun chasing away black clouds. “Yeah, I can see how that might have made you wonder.”

  “And it’s not like I haven’t got some new things to tell you,” she continued, thinking of Aliette with something like terror.

  “That can wait,” he said. “Let me see where you’re hurt, then we’ll get home.”

  But as soon as he reached for her foot, Donna saw the shimmer of something other appear, as though reality itself was twisting into something new. The disturbance was right in front of her; she could see the air ripple just beyond the curve of Xan’s back.

  He stopped moving, the warmth of his hand a pleasant tickle against her cold ankle. His eyes went wide and his face was rigid with a tension she didn’t understand. He turned around slowly, and she could no longer see the expression on his face.

  Ivy had returned.

  Xan released her ankle and stood up with a jerk, totally unlike his usually fluid grace.

  The fey girl approached, an almost-human expression on her moon-stained face. If Donna had to describe it, she’d say it looked as if Ivy had seen a ghost.

  Xan just stood there, staring. She still couldn’t see his face, but his shoulders were tense under his gray sweater, and his back was completely rigid.

  Sure, Ivy was sort of strange, but it wasn’t like Xan was unfamiliar with strange.

  “Xan,” Donna said, wondering what was wrong with him. “This is—”

  “Ivy,” he breathed, his voice barely more than a whisper.

  Donna looked from one to the other. “Wait, you know each other?”

  Ivy’s normally childlike expression was nowhere to be seen, replaced with an unknowable pain in the depths of her leaf-green eyes. “Alexander …”

  Xan must have remembered how
to move because he closed the distance between them instantly, standing within touching distance of her. “Ivy, you died—they told me you were dead! I looked for you, but I actually started to believe you’d really gone.”

  She shook her head, joy beginning to light up her whole face. “It wasn’t a true death.”

  He frowned, nowhere near ready to believe. Donna sensed anger simmering beneath the surface of tentative hope. “What the hell does that mean?” Xan asked. “And if you weren’t really dead, why didn’t you tell me?” For a moment, Donna thought he’d been about to embrace the strange-looking being, but now he withdrew into himself, pain clouding his eyes. “I mourned you for almost a year.”

  Ivy hung her head, scattering leaves as she shuffled her feet. “I am sorry, Alexander. I couldn’t tell you I was still alive. You must believe me—it was for your protection.”

  Xan shook his head, angry now. “Protection? You lied to me in the worst possible way. What was so bad that you couldn’t have gotten word to me, sent me some kind of message?”

  Donna gritted her teeth and tried not to think about what Ivy might have been to Xan. Then her exhausted mind made a connection and she realized that Ivy must have been the “mentor” that Xan had briefly told her about—the person who had taught him about his fey heritage when he was all alone with his confused dreams and memories—and who he had believed to be dead. Perhaps Ivy had also been his … what? His girlfriend?

  Donna’s heart felt like it weighed a ton.

  Then she immediately felt like a total bitch for being so selfish; she was better than this. Wasn’t she? Swallowing the painful tightness from her throat, she tentatively touched Xan’s elbow. “What’s going on?”

  He didn’t look at her. “That’s what I want to know.” He was still glaring at Ivy. “I’m waiting to find out why the only friend I ever had faked her death and lied to me for the last year.”

  The girl bounced with agitation, shedding leaves wildly as she tried to reach out to him. “No, it wasn’t like that—”

  Xan knocked her hand away. “Don’t touch me.”

  “Alexander, please,” she wailed. Her strange face was so expressive, and she made such a picture of perfect misery that Donna couldn’t help feeling a pang of sympathy.

  Xan’s face went savage, his normally golden skin bleaching paler than Donna had ever seen it. His eyes spat green fire. “Forget it, Ivy. Seriously, don’t come near me ever again.”

  The more angry he became, the more this strange creature scattered leaves and lost the human cast to her features. Beneath the glamour, Ivy’s face looked sort of pointed and foxlike. She was pretty, but in an ethereal way that left no doubt as to her faery blood.

  He glanced at Donna, and she saw the glint of unshed tears in his eyes. It made her feel a little better, to know that this uncharacteristic fury was hiding a deeper pain. “And leave Donna alone, too,” he added. “If you screw with her I’ll fucking kill you myself.”

  He spun away from them both, stalking to the edge of the pathway. When he reached the bench he gripped it with white-knuckled hands, bending as though trying to catch his breath after an exhausting run.

  Donna stood frozen, feeling useless and horribly confused. She should go to him. She should go to Xan and comfort him, but her legs wouldn’t move. What was wrong with her?

  Ivy stood crying silently, silvery tears making bright tracks down her thin cheeks. “Donna Underwood,” she whispered. “I only came to see if you had made progress on the queen’s task. I did not know you were friends with Alexander. Please, talk to him for me. Tell him I didn’t have a choice. I—”

  “Oh, just shut up.” Donna was furious, but she knew her anger was more about her confusion than anything else. She knew she’d feel terrible, later, for lashing out at the nearest target—Ivy—just because it was way too easy. But right now? Right now it felt pretty damn good. “Leave us alone.” She slowly backed away, unable to tear her gaze from the girl’s horrified expression.

  Xan’s voice shook her free of the sense of unreality that seemed to have taken hold of her. “Are you coming with me or not, Donna?”

  Turning away from the now-sobbing girl, Donna ran toward Xan. Of course she was going with him. What did he think—that she would leave him, too?

  As they headed back to the house, Xan with his head bowed and his hands stuffed into his jeans pockets, Donna fought the urge to take his arm.

  Whatever had just happened, she couldn’t stop the feeling of dread that was rising up from the pit of her stomach. Tonight, everything had changed between them—for the better, she’d believed just an hour ago. And now?

  Now, that lingering thread of happiness had already turned to ash … just waiting to be blown away on the freezing winter breeze that cut her cheeks and made her eyes fill with tears.

  RACHEL UNDERWOOD’S JOURNAL:

  And so it begins.

  Today Donna proved, beyond all doubt, that she was born with the power that most alchemists would die trying to obtain.

  It is her seventh birthday this weekend.

  What are we going to do? Patrick has told me to wait—to trust that we can work something out with Quentin that will mean she’ll live as normal a life as possible within the Order—but I don’t trust Simon. That man isn’t what Quentin believes him to be, I’m sure of it.

  Either that, or our Archmaster knows something that we don’t—and yet still doesn’t believe it’s something to be feared.

  I grew up believing in Quentin Frost, but now he seems to stand in Simon’s shadow. And Simon Gaunt’s shadow is a dark and twisted place. If I’m certain of anything these days, it’s that.

  Patrick thinks I’m being over-emotional—letting my feelings take over, which I find too easy to do—but I know I’m right. Last week, when we were visiting the estate, the look that Simon gave Donna when he thought I wasn’t watching … my skin crawls just thinking about it now.

  It was the sort of look that would make an outsider feel uncomfortable to witness. But I am certain that the expression of … lust … in his hateful eyes was all about the power he thinks Donna might possess. She is nothing but a resource. Perhaps even a weapon.

  Power is the only thing that matters to men like Simon Gaunt, especially power that is held by others. And a child like Donna is seen as an easy target to someone like him.

  He will never, ever, use my daughter. I’ll make sure of that, even if I can’t convince Patrick that I’m right to fear the Order.

  Fifteen

  Simon called the room to order in his most pompous voice, causing Navin to catch her eye and smirk. Trying not to giggle, Donna was glad of the distraction. She was also incredibly relieved that he was allowed to attend the verdict. It was nice to have someone in the room who was genuinely on her side.

  The moment of truth had finally arrived, and she knew she should be paying more attention, but she was exhausted after last night. Xan had fixed up her foot pretty well, and then driven her home at her insistence. As tempted as she’d been to stay out all night, perhaps to punish Aunt Paige, Donna had thought better of it.

  Okay, if she were honest, she didn’t really feel like staying with Xan after the revelation that he and Ivy knew each other. Clearly they’d been involved in some way beyond a mentor-student relationship, but really, she wasn’t jealous. It wasn’t that.

  Not exactly. It had more to do with the fact that here they were, yet again, with something major that Xan hadn’t told her about. Donna didn’t think he had a duty to inform her of every past female friend or girlfriend, but considering his close connection with Ivy—and how he’d suffered after he thought she’d died—Donna did wonder that it hadn’t rated more than a brief mention. She wasn’t sure if he and Ivy had actually been together, but that wasn’t the point.

  At least, that’s what she told herself.

  It wasn’t like she didn’t have more important things to worry about right now. Apart from dealing with whatever the verdict was, s
he needed to find a way to use her weird new teleporting powers to open the door to Faerie. These two things really didn’t seem related, but she only had the rest of the day to figure out how she was going to uphold her part of the bargain with Aliette—it was either that, or lose her mother forever.

  Quentin nodded at Simon as he slowly stood up and faced the cramped room, the small space filled to bursting with the representatives from all four Orders. Simon rocked gently on the edge of his seat, almost as if he was preparing himself to jump up and object loudly if he didn’t agree with the verdict.

  Though, of course, he would already know what that verdict was. Donna’s heart pounded as she tried to get Robert to look at her, wondering if she’d imagined the brief moment of camaraderie they’d shared in the Brown Room that first day. The young alchemist was busy shuffling through papers, however, and she watched curiously as he handed a few sheets to Miranda Backhouse. They didn’t seem particularly engaged in the proceedings, but before Donna could try to figure out what they were doing, Quentin’s voice made her sit up and listen, all her attention now focused on his lined face.

  “The Order of the Dragon speaks for all the alchemists gathered in this room. Are you in agreement?”

  A murmur of agreement passed from alchemist to alchemist, each representative nodding in response to the familiar words of ritual.

  Quentin cleared his throat, keeping his gaze straight ahead. His expression was impossible to read. “As Archmaster of the Dragon alchemists, and as the duly appointed spokesperson of all gathered here today, it is my duty to give voice to the verdict reached by the representatives from the Orders of the Dragon, Crow, Lion, and Rose.”

  She sighed as Quentin listed her “crimes” against the Order once more for the record. Donna tapped her foot and wished to be anywhere but here, wondering if her bizarre new abilities might choose this moment to whisk her off to some other place. No matter how scary and painful it was, even that might be preferable to this.