by Brindi Quinn
I had peculiar thoughts as I drifted off to sleep, replaying over in my head the sensation of Windley’s power fluttering through my body.
Sleep came quickly for me this time, and just as back in the forest fort, I thought I saw its gleaming eyes watching me from the corner of the room—the very chair Windley had been sitting in earlier.
I can’t have slept more than a few hours when I awoke to someone shaking me. “My Queen.” It was Albie, hushed, and stinking only faintly of ale. Perhaps he hadn’t been as indulgent as I had assumed. The room was shadowy, lit only by a thin sliver of moonbeam strewn through a crack in the floor-length curtains. “My Queen,” Albie said again. “Get up. We must go now.”
Rafe was already in the room, collecting my things, and Windley beside him with weapons exposed in both hands. Instead of a sword, Windley favored two short hatchets, though I had never seen him put them to use. Now, they were drawn and readied in anticipation; he himself was somewhat crouched, as though ready to pounce should someone come through the door.
I bolted up. “Are we under attack?”
“Not yet,” said Albie, pushing my riding garb at me. “But we’re soon to be.”
With unsteady legs, I took the pile of clothes around the changing divider and hurried to put them on. “But why, and by whom?”
“It seems you made a little too good of an impression on the Queen of the Cove,” said Windley, poking his head out into the hall and then back into the room. “She doesn’t intend to let you leave. The steward that brought us to our rooms earlier came just now and warned Rafe.”
“What do you mean? She intends to kill or imprison me? But that would be declaring war on one of the protected queendoms! She can’t do that. It would be political suicide.”
“Neither,” said Albie, gathering up the last of my things and pulling me out into the hall behind Windley and Rafe. “She intends to injure you in such a way that political relations are not disrupted. Specifically, she intends to make you bedridden.”
“And to make it look like an accident,” added Rafe, ushering me down the black-shrouded hall.
I dug my heels into the ground: “Are you fucking kidding me?”
Untoward of a queen to curse, I know, but this was warranted. Just who did Sestilia think she was? I had put up with her lunacy long enough, and I planned not to flee but to confront her about it.
“New plan,” I said. “We aren’t running away. I intend to give that madwoman a piece of my mind!”
Albie blocked my path. “I won’t allow it, My Queen. Even if it means disobeying your command, I will accept the consequences. Your safety is my top concern.”
“But—”
“Think of Queen Beau,” Windley cut me off. “That’s our primary objective, isn’t it?”
Still—
“Does Captain Delagos know about this?” I demanded.
“Absolutely not,” said Albie’s guttural voice through the dark.
“Then why not go to him for help?” I implored. “She cannot be allowed to run around unchecked. It is a guard’s duty to hold its mistress accountable. I would expect the same of any of you!”
“You’re right, My Queen, and wise as ever.” Albie put a hand to my shoulder to force me forward. “But I’m afraid Delagos is incapacitated at the moment.”
Meaning he had drunken himself into a stupor.
“The ones coming for you aren’t part of the royal guard,” said Rafe, pulling me down the servant’s staircase, the frost of his blade leaving a trail of cold air behind us. “The steward said she has assassins at her disposal. They were to break you enough to keep you from walking.”
“Because THAT would look like an accident?!”
“There are elixirs for memory loss made in the southern wilds,” chimed Windley. “I assume she planned to use one on you.”
Funny, isn’t it, that the most beautiful of packages can hide the most demented of souls?
In allowing the spider queen’s adoration to grow, I had unwittingly put myself in danger. Had she known during dinner, as she rested her head on my shoulder, that she later intended to maim me?
The thought of it set a boil to my blood.
“Hold!” Albie spat in a whisper, pulling me behind a corner as Rafe and Windley fell in line beside him. Sure enough, an echo along the glassy floor indicated that someone was approaching up the stairs. Two someones, to be more precise. Albie deferred to Rafe and Windley with a tip of his head, and the two guards sprang into action.
The stairwell was dark, save for the light coming from an upper window, so the scene wasn’t easy to make out, but it left me with newfound admiration for my guard. This was the first time I had ever been in any real danger as a queen, the first time I had ever seen any of them engage in true battle.
It was incredible, fluid and practiced, and although they were of different queendoms, Rafe and Windley worked in harmony, anticipating each other’s movements and the movements of their common enemy, much like a dance. As the hooded assassins ran at them with arrowed spears, Rafe responded by cutting through the air with his chilled blade, and for the first time, the true purpose of its sorcery became clear to me.
As Rafe’s real sword slashed through the darkness, it was accompanied by a second sword, rather an outline of a sword, transparent as if made entirely out of frosted air. Though transparent, the sword was solid and strong as steel, for it made impact with its target seconds ahead of when the metal blade would have. While the assassin anticipated Rafe’s weapon, she did not anticipate its frosty shadow. The shadow blade slashed into her, disintegrating against her chest as it cut her. She stumbled backward and down the stairs, cradling her wound.
Rafe’s sword was nothing more than a decoy for the frost enchantments hidden within.
Meanwhile, Windley took the second assassin, not relying on any spell work, but rather on speed and coordination. He had a way of spinning the hatchets around in his hands so that they almost appeared to hover above his palms. He propelled one spinning hatchet around the side of the second assassin, dodging the thrust of her spear, and then quickly followed with an uppercut motion of his other hand. This, she dodged, but Windley’s true target had been her weapon. He cut it clear in half with the first hatchet. The arrowed portion fell to the floor with a clink and a thud. While she was distracted, Windley took the front of the assassin’s hood. “Run or die.” He showed his teeth. “Your choice.”
She took the former, turning to retreat the way she had come, stepping over her fallen comrade without offering a smidgen of help.
The whole thing was over in no more than a minute. Both guards returned their weapons to their sheaths before turning expectantly to Albie and me.
“There may be more,” said Rafe. “Be on your guard.”
Never had I seen the young magician so full of energy. And what about Windley? Who knew he actually had the skills to back up his arrogance? He was like a different person, fierce and controlled. And now that I had seen it, I couldn’t unsee it. Their weapons weren’t just for slashing unruly vines in the forest or scaring off ruffians; these were capable protectors of the Crown.
I could never, ever, ever let Windley know I thought of him that way. It would go straight to his head.
“Rafe, take the lead,” ordered Albie. “Windley, you get the back. I’ll cover the Queen.” They molded into the formation as if they had done it a thousand times before.
At the bottom of the staircase, we encountered one more assassin standing watch, which Windley took out using only one of his hatchets, before stealing through the pantry and out the servant’s entrance.
In the clear of night, we ran to the stables, enveloped in a chorus of crickets and other nighttime creatures, Windley’s unsheathed weapon catching reflections of moonlight as he ran alongside me.
“Are you okay, Queen Merrin?”
“I am fine,” I said, and because he was acting humbly, I added: “I won’t go so far as to say I’m impressed, but�
�� maybe you do have a talent or two you’ve been hiding. Maybe you aren’t ALL talk.”
His smirk stretched to reveal his teeth, glowing like the axe in his palm. “You have no idea the things I’m capable of.”
“Ugh. Stop.”
But I couldn’t help becoming engrossed in a grin like that. Maybe it was the invigoration of the night. Either way, I could feel myself grinning back and there was nothing I could do to stop it.
I found Ruckus unharmed and unchained at the back of the stable and hugged him around the neck.
“Thank goddess that steward took a liking to you, chap.” Windley patted Rafe on his sweaty back before mounting a stag of his own.
Albie clicked his tongue against his cheek and together we four trotted away through the sleeping city and into the unknown beyond.
I should have sensed then that something was amiss—that something otherworldly was following closely behind us—and it had nothing to do with Sestilia or her assassins.
I should have noticed, but I was distracted by the way Windley’s windswept hair had turned white to match the setting moon—the same moon responsible for a pain Rafe was starting to feel closing in around his gradually freezing heart.
Though I didn’t know about any of that yet.
Chapter 10
Every Color
I guess you could call everything up until this point a prologue. Maybe the journey really started the moment we crossed from queendom into wilds. Are you following along closely, captive ones? Are you wondering where it will end? I can assure you there is much, much more to come.
We rode through the rest of the night and into morning. Albie had obtained a fair bit of intel from Captain Delagos, including a rudimentary map of the beyonds, and the wrinkled knight led the party across fields of uninhabited terrain in the direction of what he described as ‘a forest of extraordinary heights.’ Fitting, considering our end goal was a mountain of giants’ bones.
Ruckus, glad to be uncooped, followed diligently behind Albie’s stag. Much less naughty than before arriving at the Cove, he probably feared being penned up again if he disobeyed.
White-haired Windley trotted at my side while Rafe took the rear. We were lacking in sleep, but we rode swiftly away from the spider’s queendom in search of a fairer, kinder queen lost to the wilds stretching beyond.
For a time, I fumed over the nerve of Sestilia. That bitch. How was she ever going to rule a queendom with maniacal tendencies like those? But the more I thought about her plot, the more I thought about Rafe and Windley besting her assassins so easily. I felt smug over it, though I had contributed literally nothing to the fight, and I imagined telling her off over and over again.
I’ve won countless arguments in my head that have never seen the light of day.
At first, we encountered towns and houses scattered across the fields, but they thinned before disappearing altogether the farther we rode. The final queen-ruled city we passed was little more than an inn and a few lonesome farms, a sorry sight for weary travelers. A single signpost marked the end of the civilized world pointing back in the direction from which we had come. I expected something more grandiose than a single signpost. Maybe a ravine? Or a bridge? But no, the land was unchanged as we moved from the queen territories into the unknown. If not for the sign, we would never have known.
I was grateful for that lonely sign, though, for a single scarlet ribbon was tied around the post—an indication that the Clearing’s cavalry had already passed through.
Windley was right, there were other forces out in the world searching for Beau. Her fate didn’t rest entirely on us.
Despite having only a few hours of sleep on our bones, we made it a fair distance that day until, for the first time on our journey, we stopped to make camp. Gone were the days of humble inns and taverns; instead, we found a suitable plot of land amidst a forest of dripping willow trees—which, as you know, are my favorite of all trees.
Oh, have I not talked about this yet?
I enjoyed how buds collected on them like raindrops and how they always reached toward their own roots with longing. There was only one willow near the Crag, and it was one I played in often as a child, forcing Albie to crouch for tea under the dripping branches. Out here, there was an entire grove of them, weeping aesthetically and creating passable cover for camp.
“Brings back memories, doesn’t it, Albie?”
“Too bad we forgot the teacakes,” he said, enjoying the reminisce.
“I want to hear a baby Queen Merrin story,” Windley whined. “Tell us one, Sir Albie. Something she wouldn’t want us to know.”
“Let’s see, now.” Albie scratched at his mustache. “There was the time she snuck into the wine cellar and got drunk all by herself. Or the time she hid that orphan in her bureau like a lost kitten.”
“That’s quite all right.” I shot Albie a look of warning. There were far too many embarrassing ones to choose from, and I couldn’t allow Windley that sort of ammunition.
“Later,” Albie mouthed—to Windley’s wicked delight.
I tended a fire while the pair of them pitched our tent and Rafe prepared a meal.
“In all honesty,” I said over my shoulder when I noticed them pulling out a second canvas, “isn’t it a waste to pitch two separate tents?”
Albie paused and tipped his head. “A highness cannot sleep with her guards, My Queen.”
“But we did so at the taverns on the way here,” I argued. Not to mention he had fallen asleep mid-storybook plenty of times in the corner chair of my bedchamber.
“This is different. You’d be sharing ground with your guard. It wouldn’t be appropriate. Particularly with young hounds such as them.” He tipped his head, first at Windley then at Rafe. The former feigned offense, while the latter ignored, cutting carrots as though it was the most uninteresting thing he had ever done.
“But Beau and I wouldn’t have them as our guardians if we didn’t trust them,” I said. “Is it really worth the hassle of setting up and tearing down two tents every night and morning? It isn’t like anyone would know.”
Albie bowed. “It’s your command, My Queen.”
“One tent. In the interest of saving time and Beau,” I decreed. “You, my knight, can be a barrier between the ‘hounds’ and me.”
He wasn’t pleased with my decision, but I stood by it. It didn’t make sense to duplicate efforts for every night of our travels. Besides, I could change my ruling tomorrow if I found it unsuitable.
With the fire properly lapping, I went to Rafe to see if he needed help with his stew. He declined, of course, and of course, I persisted, squatting beside his lean silhouette as it fiddled over the cooking pot. He was being quiet. That wasn’t fair—he was always quiet, but his demeanor was quiet—pensive and reserved. As he let chunks of carrot splash into the stew, he stared through his eyelashes as if deep in thought.
“Rafe?”
His amber eyes diverted from his cooking. “Your Majesty?”
“Won’t you tell me what’s wrong? I keep seeing forlornity on you. At the Cove and its castle. And even before that. What’s causing you to vex?”
He brushed his forehead with the rear of his hand, pushing his dark wave of hair back into place. “Don’t worry about me, Your Majesty. Please.” He hurried to turn his attention back to his cookery.
I don’t know what I expected; he had been my guard for years and never had he opened up to me.
I put a hand to his shoulder as I stood. “If you change your mind, I’m a good keeper of secrets, Rafe. I have always cared for you, and I will continue to do so.” I removed my hand. “By the way, I’m glad to have finally seen you use your powers in battle.”
“Luna’s powers,” he corrected.
If you’re wondering why he called it that, you aren’t alone. I had heard him refer to the moon as ‘Luna’ on more than one occasion, but he was the only one I knew of who did. It seemed that was the way of his bloodline.
“Lun
a’s powers,” I affirmed.
I turned to find Windley watching us from a distance. I knew I had felt him piercing into me with that overt stare of his. He had packed up the remnants of the second tent and looked to be in the middle of fetching more kindling for the fire. When our eyes met, he opened the willow’s branches like a curtain and beckoned me over with his finger.
“You know you shouldn’t be beckoning a queen, willy-nilly,” I teased.
“Please, oh highest of highnesses, grace me with an audience.” He dropped the tone. “But not here. Over there.” He tugged at my elbow, leading me to the edge of the grove where the sun had melted against the horizon. The view was vast without any manmade structures to block it.
“You know,” Windley said, pointing to where the edges of the melting sun met with the night sky beyond, “if you look hard enough, you can see every color out there.”
I turned to him eagerly. “That’s what I always say!”
Oh. He was mocking me.
“Oh really?” he jeered. “You haven’t only said it a thousand times before.”
“You’re such an ass.”
“And you’re an easy target, your royal lioness.” He bowed ridiculously low.
I nudged him from behind so that he lost his footing and stumbled forward. “How I love to see you grovel,” I said, and was met with his impish amusement. I put a hand to my hip. “Did you have something you wanted to discuss or was it just the colors of the sunset?”
Windley’s expression abruptly sank. Whatever that look was, it made my stomach sink in similar fashion.
“Actually, yes,” he said.
“Uh-oh. What’s wrong?”
He chewed his cheek. “Nothing, really. It’s just…” He nodded his head in Rafe’s direction. “For your own sake, don’t waste your time with that one. He won’t easily confide in you.”
The way he said it was absolute enough to be upsetting.
“Why do you say that?” I asked.