Wandering Queen (Lost Fae Book 1)

by May Dawson

  Relief—and gratitude—spread across her face. “Thank you, Tiron.”

  I held out my arms as she unfolded herself awkwardly from the horse. I knew that she didn’t need me.

  But she still slid off the horse into my arms. And for a second, I held her tight, breathing in her sweet scent of summer.

  She lingered close to me, her gaze on mine. Her eyes were wide and dark-lashed, and there was a scar at the edge of one of those eyes. When I touched the scar curiously with my fingertips, she didn’t pull away.

  “What happened here?” I asked. “It left a mark.”

  “I don’t remember.” She raised her fingertips to the same scar. “It seems like you should have a memory of all the things that left a scar. But that’s not how humans are. Some of the worst scars are from wounds we don’t even remember.”

  “Maybe it would be easier to forget,” I said, then realized how stupid that was to say, and I winced. “I’m sorry.”

  “You’re not going to hurt my feelings.” Her gaze on mine was a bit too keen. “Maybe one day, Tiron, you’ll want to tell me what it is you wish you could forget.”

  My lips twisted. “Maybe.”

  The day I told Alisa the truth would probably be a bad day for us both.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Alisa

  At first, Duncan wanted to still ride his horse, then Tiron volunteered to ride in the carriage to keep me company, and that prompted Azrael to offer to stay with me as well, and then Duncan insisted on riding in the carriage too, to babysit us all.

  The carriage moved briskly down the hill into the forest, leaving the glittering ocean and the strip of city along the shore behind us. The sway of the carriage was strange, and a few times my shoulder bumped Azrael’s. Every time, heat washed over me, even though he seemed lost in thought and never noticed. Something was bothering him.

  I smiled around at them all, but I smiled especially hard at Duncan, who was grim-faced and sporting a black eye. “Well, this is pleasant.”

  Duncan grunted in response.

  Tiron leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees as he smiled at the Fae girl who sat beside me. She leaned into me, the little horns that jutted from her soft blond hair poking into my arm. I wrapped my arm around her protectively, but told her, “You don’t have to worry about him. That’s just Tiron.”

  Duncan snorted. “Something his enemies have said many times.”

  “Strange that I don’t see any of them still around,” Tiron murmured, the smile never leaving his face. “What’s your name?”

  “Eulia,” she finally managed, her voice a whisper.

  “That’s a beautiful name,” Tiron said. “I have a cousin named Eulia.”

  He leaned back, shifting so he could get his hand into his pocket. He pulled out a coin that he walked over his knuckles, until he pretended to drop it. He tried to catch it in mid-air, but it vanished.

  Eulia was watching him curiously.

  Duncan never would have admitted it, but he was too. I hid a smirk as I looked past him at the wild orchards we were passing, where tree limbs tangled together and red fruit dripped from between the leaves.

  Tiron spread his hands. “I lost the coin.”

  Eulia gave in and smiled.

  “I know,” he admitted. “I’m so clumsy. Wait—what’s this?”

  He frowned down at his hand, which suddenly contained one of the red fruits from outside. He offered it to Eulia. She hesitated, staring at him, then reached out and took it from him. I almost smiled. Tiron’s charm was irresistible.

  The carriage rocked and swayed through villages and past mountains. Then the road looped around, and we began to wind up the mountain.

  The air turned slowly cooler. I craned my head to see out the window. Two Fae knights on horseback rode ahead of us, and another rode beside the man controlling the carriage.

  We crested the top, and suddenly the world on the other side was spread out below us, revealing lush greenery in contrast to the snow that surrounded us.

  “A pocket of winter.” Tiron produced a snowball, holding it out to the girl, and I wondered how he managed that trick. “I wish I could show you both how beautiful the winter court is.”

  She took the snowball from him, her eyes lighting up with wonder. “I only saw the snow when they brought me over the mountain, and I didn’t get to touch it…”

  Azrael held out his hands, and Tiron tossed another snowball to him. There was a flicker of darkness in Azrael’s eyes, but it was gone when Eulia looked at him, replaced by an easy smile. I never saw Azrael smile at me like that, so uncomplicated and genuinely sweet, and it made something ache in my chest. I couldn’t remember what I did to him that I’d never see that smile aimed my way.

  “You know what these are good for?” Azrael said, just as Duncan began, “Don’t you dare.”

  Azrael whipped the snowball at him. The snowball exploded across Duncan’s face, dusting his dark hair with white. For a second, tension squeezed in my chest, wondering how Duncan would react.

  Duncan scraped the remnants of snow slowly from his face, his trousers. The look on his face was grim as ever.

  He launched himself suddenly at Azrael, a grin springing to his lips as he tried to slap him in the face with the snow. Tiron already had new snowballs in both palms, and he went after them both.

  An instant snowball fight erupted, rocking the carriage. When Eulia began to giggle, the sound rose thin and shaky into the air.

  “Help me,” Azrael begged, pinned on the floor of the carriage by Duncan, while Tiron pelted them both with snowballs mercilessly. I was laughing at them all so hard I could barely peel myself off the wall of the carriage, but Eulia scraped up some of the snow and launched it at Tiron’s face.

  She froze for a second at her own daring. But when he laughed, as he wiped snow from his eyes, she visibly relaxed.

  “Maybe someday, you could come be one of our knights of the winter court, Eulia,” he teased.

  If only there was still a winter court. The thought rolled over me heavily. Did Tiron think his court would rise again? From what Azrael had told me, the royal family had been murdered. I didn’t know how the laws and lineage worked to know who would take the throne. Could it be Tiron?

  His green eyes crinkled at the corners as he teased Eulia and tormented Azrael for her amusement. Watching him, I could imagine him as the king of the winter court.

  And Azrael—seeing him being playful, when he was usually so imposing, made my heart lurch in my chest. My traitorous body always responded to Azrael’s too-gorgeous face, those sharp cheekbones and the sweep of his jaw, his mesmerizing purple eyes. But his kindness made me ache for him in another way.

  Duncan had been smiling too, but now he was back on the bench across from me, nestled into the corner. Tiron and Azrael were still throwing snowballs at each other, both of them trying to persuade Eulia to join their side.

  Duncan was watching me, his gaze hard. It felt as if he could see right through me.

  I stuck my tongue out at him.

  The next second, something exploded outside the carriage.

  The carriage tilted onto its side. I grabbed for Eulia, trying to protect her. Azrael was already launching himself off the floor of the carriage, wrapping both her and me in his arms as his broad shoulders shielded us.

  The carriage hesitated for a second, tilted at that terrifying angle. Over Azrael’s shoulder, I saw Tiron raise his arms, and I heard the wind blow up outside as the temperature suddenly sank. Duncan ripped off his shirt, exposing those big biceps and his tanned skin, and the tattoos on his chest seemed to be moving.

  Then the carriage slammed into the ground. The force of it was jarring, and Eulia let out a whimper, then fell silent. Her small body was tense and strained as if she was ready to flee.

  Duncan was already moving, throwing open the carriage door and skimming himself up and out. Tiron glanced back at us and followed him. Azrael pulled his dagger from hi
s belt and gripped the blade, extending the hilt to me.

  “Stay here and protect her,” Azrael told me, and then he was gone too.

  Eulia and I were left along in the dark of the carriage. Outside, I heard shouts and the clash of swords. I pulled away from Eulia, intending to go after the males and help them, but she clung to me.

  “It’s all right,” I told her.

  Suddenly, the dim light of the carriage grew even darker. At the door of the carriage, a huge horned Fae reached toward us with an enormous hand.

  I pushed Eulia behind me so I could swing the blade, but before I could, a snarling filled the air. The male looked back in horror just before one of the shadow hounds slammed into him. The hound’s teeth flashed, tearing open the male’s throat, and then both of them tumbled off the top of the carriage.

  Eulia’s eyes were closed tightly, tears leaking down her cheeks.

  “Open your eyes,” I told her, my voice coming out sterner than I intended. “You’ve got to be ready to fight.”

  “I’m scared of the hounds,” she whispered.

  “The dogs are the least of our problems,” I told her. “They’re on our side.”

  I wanted to know who the Fae were who had attacked us, and why. I jumped and caught the edge of the doorway, my fingertips straining against the polished wood as I tried to skim myself up. I got my elbow onto the smooth side of the carriage, and stared around me.

  Tiron, Azrael and Duncan fought furiously with two enormous horned Fae, both of whom were the size of giants—easily half again their height, if not more. But the ground was scattered with other giant Fae. Our carriage’s driver and the guard with his long lilac-colored cloak both lay in the snow, their uniforms—and their blood—vivid against the crisp white snow.

  The shadow hounds were a blur as they moved between the Fae, snarling and tearing with their wicked teeth. They’d make short work of the giants that were left.

  I pulled myself the rest of the way out and looked down.

  Eulia stared at me with wide, alarmed eyes.

  “I’m not leaving you,” I promised, leaning back in and offering her a hand up.

  She looked at me skeptically. Then her wings burst out of her tunic, long and shimmering and iridescent, and she used them to fly up beside me. I scrambled out of her way, and she landed lightly beside me on top of the carriage.

  The last of the giants fell.

  Azrael and Duncan and Tiron turned to us, their swords bloodstained.

  “Brigands,” Azrael said shortly. “They must have seen the royal carriage and assumed something of value was on board.”

  Duncan snorted. “Too bad they didn’t realize it was just Alisa.”

  He whistled to his hounds, and they came bounding toward him. He dropped to his knees, petting their heads and dare I say, cooing to them. He babied them despite the blood on their muzzles.

  Eulia stiffened beside me. Her eyes were wide with fear.

  “Duncan,” I said softly, not knowing how he’d react. Would he be the gruff asshole he always was? Or would he respond to her fear and send the hounds away again?

  Duncan looked at me with that smirk across his face, as if he were about to say something cutting, then his gaze found Eulia. His expression changed, her fear mirrored in his face as sudden protectiveness.

  “They’re friendly,” he promised her. “They’d die to protect someone like you, they would never hurt you.”

  He murmured a word, and the two dogs sat. Their tongues lolled out of their broad muzzles, giving them a goofy look despite the blood matting their dark fur. I was relieved that the blood didn’t seem to be their own.

  Azrael and Tiron set to work checking on the corpses that scattered the clearing, then pushing the carriage back up onto its damaged wheels. Neither of them complained that Duncan and I didn’t help, both of us focused on Eulia.

  When she finally reached out and stroked her hand over one of the dog’s heads, between its ears, Duncan grinned triumphantly. For a second, the two of us smiled at each other.

  Then he seemed to remember who he was, and that smile disappeared, replaced by his usual grim nature.

  “We should move.” But his cold words were belied by the way his hand rested on the dogs’ backs, his fingers absently stroking through their wiry black fur.

  We abandoned the carriage and began the trek down the mountain on foot. Duncan fell behind us, and when he caught up, the dogs were nowhere to be seen.

  I wanted to ask him about his hounds. But Duncan’s moment of light-heartedness had fled. Azrael and Tiron took turns carrying Eulia on their shoulders because she was so small. Duncan stayed behind the rest of us as we wound our way down the mountain trail, gradually leaving behind the snow and ice and walking through the thick green foliage of summer.

  Tiron carried Eulia ahead, and Azrael walked beside me, thrusting his hands into his pockets.

  “Do you think the brigands knew that I would be there?” I asked.

  “I’m not sure I believe in that much coincidence.” Azrael watched Tiron, who was pretending to lurch back and forth as he carried Eulia, who was laughing. Then he said carefully, “I wanted to warn you… there’s a possibility she’s not wanted at home, Alisa. There might be a reason why she was the one bartered for the taxes.”

  Those words felt like a slap. I started to ask why he hadn’t told me that before I became set on bringing her home to a situation that might be terrible.

  But before I could form the words, he said, “I hope that’s not the case. I just wanted to warn you.”

  Around us, the mountain sloped down into green hills, dotted with farms. The trees were heavy with flowers, big white and pink blooms that released a sweet fragrance like spun sugar that drifted through the air. The Fae world seemed so beautiful and magical.

  But we’d left bodies behind us. This world might be even darker than earth.

  As we headed down the road, Eulia sprinted ahead. Tiron jogged to catch up with her.

  We reached a weathered gray farmhouse, the fields behind it tidily plowed and dotted with outbuildings. A woman ran out of the house and hugged Eulia, beginning to cry, and Eulia clung to her.

  The scene made Azrael smile, but he jerked his head toward the road. “Come on. We don’t belong here.”

  I hugged Eulia goodbye, and we left the happy scene behind.

  As we headed for the soaring mountaintop, Tiron’s fingers brushed mine. The two of us exchanged a quick look, and I was almost tempted to reach out and take his hand. But I didn’t.

  Instead, all four of us seemed lost in thought as we began the long trek back to that damned gilded prison of mine.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Another night, another party. The night before must have worked so well for Faer’s agenda.

  Azrael leaned in close to me, his exhalation against the shell of my ear sending a strange tingle down my neck, and I resisted the urge to touch the bare skin caressed by his warm breath.

  “General Winspar was loyal to your father, but he barely tolerates your brother. He hates Faer’s incompetence in the training ring and takes it as a personal affront that your brother avoids all combat sports. He might be a good ally… if you ever need one. Just know that, like a lot of men who form their identity around being tough, he crumples into a tantrum if anyone disrespects them.”

  With that thought, Azrael straightened.

  “Is there any particular way I’m supposed to greet him or address him?” I asked in a whisper.

  “General would be ideal. Genuine warmth and respect if you can muster them would do a good deal to win him over.”

  I nodded and turned to face the General, who was beckoning over a female Fae with long, dark hair.

  “Welcome home,” he said. “I wanted you to meet my wife, Bitta.”

  “It’s a pleasure,” I said, extending my hand to clasp the way I’d noticed other Fae greeted each other.

  I managed to make small talk with them both. I might
need an ally given how confusing the conversation with my brother had been.

  When Bitta mentioned that she had just given birth to a baby—not that I could tell from her sleek gown, the Fae really were impossible—I steered her over to the chairs, taking a seat with her so she wouldn’t have to look up.

  The startled faces around me suggested I’d just broken some kind of protocol, and I glanced at Azrael, but he was smiling. The General seemed pleased by the concern I’d shown his wife.

  A tall Fae wound through the crowd, his gaze fixed on Azrael.

  “Forgive me, Princess,” the General said. “This is the master of training—he runs the military academy for highborn Fae.”

  He sighed under his breath, his eyes flickering toward Faer—who was holding court on the stairs to the dais, surrounded by laughing Fae females—and then added, “Such as it is now.”

  I glanced at Azrael, but he didn’t have time to explain anything, except to add, “His name is Lanin.”

  The Fae who ran the academy was tall even by their standards, with sharp dark eyes and a mass of dark red hair.

  The general tried to intercept him, but Lanin had eyes only for Azrael.

  “Your autumn court nobles are about to be slaughtered,” he said.

  Azrael rose to his full height, eyes flashing. It would be alarming to be on the opposite side of that fierce glare, and Lanin raised his hands. “I can’t stop them from being pulled early to command battalions at the front, unless you—”

  The General broke into this urgent conversation with a smile. “Did you somehow miss that the princess has returned?”

  Lanin stiffened, then turned to me as if he hadn’t recognized me. Understandable enough.

  “Forgive me,” Lanin said, and seemed to hesitate. Apparently by sitting down I had caused a significant portion of the crowd’s brains to spontaneously melt out their ears. I needed princess lessons, and fast.

  I hated that my brother had thrown me to the wolves. I would prefer actual wolves to awkward social moments, actually.