The Passionate Queen (Dark Queens Book 2)

by Jovee Winters

  Immediately all movement ceased. Even the cute little guppies of her gown stopped swimming.

  Giving her a grateful grin, I sighed with relief.

  “Well, it’s going okay, I guess,” Caly said, answering my question from earlier with a flick of her wrist. “I can see where your speaking with fire butt—”

  Caly’s cute way of referencing Ragoth.

  “—definitely helped him to get his head screwed on right, but Zelena needs a stern talking to.”

  I sighed. “My dear, you cannot rush love. I cannot force this match.”

  Grumping, Caly shoveled a palmfull of popcorn in her mouth and munched on it like a masticating cow. “I don’t see why not.”

  A crumb of corn slipped from her hand; one of the eels in her gown poked its golden-veined head out to snap it up. Even being a pig, the goddess was lovely. I snorted; she was always delightfully fun. Down-to-earth—well, in a manner of speaking; maybe down-to-seren would be the proper analogy to make here—either way, Calypso simply was who she was, and it was all part of her appeal. For a goddess who grew easily bored, in over five hundred years, I’d never once found myself that way with her.

  “If you wish this to become a successful love match, then trust me on this. I know a thing or two about it.” I gave her side-eye, silently reminding her of my great success between her and the dark-souled Hades.

  Those two were still sickeningly in love, which was awesome.

  “Fine.” She huffed and clapped her hands, vanishing the see-orb along with the bowl of popcorn. “I guess I have no choice but to trust you. But this show and pony horse—”

  Hm, best not to try and decipher Caly’s nonsensical riddles all the time; trying to only gave me massive headaches in the end. I merely nodded for her to continue.

  “—needs to get a move on already. I want them married, making babies, and done.”

  Calypso was somehow convinced that if she could make this work between Ragoth and Zelena, she’d finally figured out the perfect way to nab both Fable and Fiera their men.

  Lately Fiera had been shooting fiery meteors into seren, a sign that Caly and I took to mean she wanted her love match, and she wanted it now. I supposed after waiting five hundred years for her promised mate, she’d been patient enough.

  I, however, was not convinced that Ragoth and Zelena mating would make any bit of difference, but one did not argue with an elemental.

  “Do not worry, love.” I patted her hand. “All is going according to plan. Just trust me.”

  She snorted. “Humph. Famous last words.”

  ~*~

  Ragoth

  Because the processional to meet Lena had lasted the whole of the day, the castle had temporarily been opened to us all. Two men per room had bunked together; we’d not been given a choice in partners.

  I’d been last in line, so I’d been given the dreg. A sturdily built, handsome male with dark hair and impossibly thick, long lashes that clearly had to be fakery had smiled when I’d walked in.

  He’d smelled of incense and talcum powder. His face had been painted with thick black swirls around his eyes, as a way to focus the eye of an onlooker upon them. Dressed as he was in colors of fine indigo and royal blues, I pegged him as a merchant or a merchant’s son of some wealth.

  What kind of men was Lena interested in now? This was a dandy if ever I saw one.

  “Hello, I’m Maurice,” he’d said in a high-pitched but cultured voice.

  Shaking his hand in greeting, because I’d promised myself I’d behave, I’d come very quickly to regret my decision to play nice.

  The fool had spoken incessantly. Asking me what I thought of “our queen.” I’d nearly punched my fist through his face for that one. I’d snapped and said, “Not ours, mine.” Then I’d grabbed a pillow, tossed it onto the top bunk, and hopped up, trying to give him the hint that I was through talking.

  But, as was usually the case with humans like him, he’d continued right on blathering for what felt like hours. Carrying on a one-sided conversation.

  At one point I’d finally growled, “If you don’t shut up, I’ll eat you.”

  And it’d not been an idle threat. I’d not eaten well in days, my stomach was grinding against itself with hunger, and humans had always been part of a dragon’s staple. Of course, I’d not eaten another one since the day I’d ingested Hagar (the look on Lena’s face still haunted me), but this fool hadn’t needed to know that.

  He’d sucked in a deep breath and then barely squeaked out, “You were teasing, right?”

  I’d snapped my teeth in response.

  And subsequently gotten one of the best night’s sleep I’d had in a long time. I was in Lena’s castle. I might be surrounded by men vying for her hand, but none of them would gain it.

  I’d acted poorly with her, allowed my anger to dictate my actions and words, but I’d meant every word I’d whispered to her in the throne room. I would remind Lena who I really was, who I still was, deep down.

  For her, and her only, I’d move mountains. This was my chance to make things right between us again. So I whistled a jaunty tune as I’d descended the spiraling staircase toward the dining hall, following the scent of roasted meats to get me there.

  There was a cacophony of noise the closer I drew, men talking over one another so loudly that I couldn’t make out any one conversation, just a number of discordant tones and sounds.

  Muttering under my breath, I wondered how much longer I’d have to share space with the monkeys. As I walked down the long, winding hall that led me to breakfast, I studied the art on the walls.

  I’d been born and raised in a castle, surrounded by a bevy of gods and goddesses. Wealth, power, and fame meant little to me. But I found myself struck dumb by a massive gilded mirror easily a story high. It wasn’t the richness of the gold on the frame or the pristine condition of the glass but the moving artwork that cycled upon its surface.

  Images of Lena. No, actually, not Lena. Images of Zelena, queen of hearts, in all her haughty and royal glory.

  I stared transfixed by one image after another. Her in a massive garden of trees the color of fall leaves, with white roses dripping with red. Her being carried in her carriage from one township to another, looking frosty and detached as her people threw wreaths of garland before her. Her sitting on her royal throne, the same one she’d been on last night, surrounded by a prism of dancing light as she stared numbly ahead. Her watching as one head after another after another rolled down a bloody trail toward a dark, haunted forest before her.

  On and on and on it went, one picture after another, and always one thing remained the same. Lena was always alone. Alone and lonely.

  My throat squeezed at the sight, and I found myself lifting a hand up to her image, as though I could touch, could bring her comfort.

  I’d heard rumors of her time here, of the numerous death sentences that’d been handed down for crimes committed. Not that she’d been wrong in her sentencing; in Olympus, my own father and mother were known to be heavy handed with punishments rendered. But always the penalty was fair; sometimes being a ruler meant making decisions not likely to be popular with everyone.

  Such was the way of things.

  But I hated the lingering look of sadness in her eyes and felt ashamed of the resentment I’d harbored for her through the years. I’d lost her, and my thoughts had turned cold and full of hurt. I’d heard of her paramours and I’d assumed she’d been living it up. But what I saw here told me otherwise.

  A heavy hand slapped at my back, causing me to stumble a step. “Well, come eat, shifter!” the thunderous voice boomed.

  I had to gnash down on my front teeth and remind myself that I could not use my powers when apart from Lena; it would disqualify me, and I was taking no chances of losing her a second time.

  But when I turned and stared into the golden-eyed gaze of the one called Midas, it was an effort not to let my beast have free reign. I’d heard the brute yesterday bragging o
f how he’d make her his, turn her and tame her to his will.

  And just how starry eyed many other men had been his presence. Midas was one to keep an eye on.

  Stepping away from his grasp, I dusted off my vest. “Lead the way.”

  He snorted and threaded his fingers behind his back.

  Midas was tall, golden haired, and with flesh that gleamed almost like molten gold in certain lights. There was an inherent arrogance to him that was immediately off putting and irritating.

  “You don’t stand a chance, you know.” He smirked. “The queen will choose me. Avarice, if nothing else, will make it so.”

  Goddess, give me patience.

  “Is that so? And do you not mind being used for your talents?” I said the last with an obvious sneer.

  His nostrils curled. “I do not care if that’s why she chooses me. I loathe that woman; the very sight of her annoys me. No, I’m here for one purpose and one purpose only, to gain the crown and rule.”

  Unlike last night, where I’d wanted to eat my companion, this fool made me chuckle. It was obvious he did not know my Lena at all. He mistook my grin for compliance.

  The corner of his lips tipped up, and he thrust out his hand to me. “Midas.”

  I didn’t trust him. I didn’t like him. But if there was one thing I knew, it was to keep my friends close and my enemies closer.

  I shook his hand. “Ragoth, and yes, I am a shifter.”

  Golden eyes sparkling, he nodded. “Reptilian, but what exactly?”

  Shrugging, I spread my hands. “A little bit of this and a little bit of that.”

  I was going to be keeping a sharp eye on this one. Having been privy to the mechanics and business of royalty, I knew Midas was right; he’d be chosen as one of the frontrunners. He brought with him a limitless supply of wealth to the kingdom; it would be nonsensical for him not to be chosen as a contender.

  But this man was smart, ruthless, and cunning. I grinned. Game on.

  “Well, Ragoth, I see a great future for us.”

  “Absolutely.”

  We didn’t have much time for conversation after that. We entered the dining hall, found whatever empty seat was still left, and ate. Halfway through my fourth plate, trumpets blared and banners suddenly appeared from thin air. In thick, bold letters were names.

  The voice of the woman who’d spoken for Lena the day before echoed through the stone hall.

  “The names have been chosen. If you do not see yours, you’ve not been selected to proceed further. Have a great day.”

  There were twenty names.

  And as I’d suspected, Midas was one. Mine was another.

  Grinning, I tore into a haunch of antlered bear and smacked the shoulder of the man beside me.

  “Made it.” I snickered.

  “I didn’t.” The blond groaned then shoving to his feet, got up and shuffled off with his head hanging low.

  I chuckled. One by one I’d mow them all down. Who knew playing nice could be quite so ruthless?

  Fist pounding the table, I gave a roar of approval and was joined by nineteen other voices. Today was going to be a grand day.

  Chapter 11

  Zelena

  I stared at the scroll in my hand in horror. “Dru! What is this?” I shrieked, waving it under her nose when she finally got to my side.

  Pushing my hand aside, she gave me a pinched look and pursed lips. “Zelena,” she said in her snappy “let me do what I need to do” way.

  “No, no.” I stomped my foot and paced back and forth in this heavy, ridiculous gown crafted of red silk taffeta and diamond pearls. “I told you, not Ragoth. Why is he still on the list?”

  I ranted and raved and talked to her until my voice began rasping. Anger spent, I stared at her, and she finally spoke to me.

  “Zelena, one”—she lifted a finger—“he is a dragon—”

  “Which no one knows, and can never find out—”

  She looked pretty today dressed in a sunny, buttery gown of lace and silk that hugged her slim curves prettily. I’d always thought Druscella a pretty girl, but she’d really come into her looks since her marriage.

  “Why not?” She shrugged. “Just because dragons are known for eating humans, he hasn’t—”

  I’d never told her about the incident with Hagar. Pressing my lips together, I sighed. “But Dru, it won’t matter because everyone will panic—”

  She sighed. “You keep saying this. And I keep saying that having a dragon to guard our landians is a good thing. If they don’t like him now, they will down the line.”

  I snorted. “That’s assuming I actually choose him. You do not get to pick my match. No matter what you might think.”

  She crossed her arms and tapped her tiny slippered foot. She reminded me of a little dog rat, vicious and yet somehow still adorable.

  “I never said I would, but I’ll be damned if I let you let him leave. You’re going to work this out with him, my queen; if you don’t, you’ll always regret it.”

  “No, I won’t.” I sniffed.

  Her gray eyes turned soft and sad. “Well, we both know that’s not true.”

  Preserving my pride, I turned my face aside. Druscella knew me; she understood me in a way only Ragoth ever had. Deep down, I knew she was right. It had never been about him being a dragon; it’d always been about the man himself.

  Dropping into my vanity seat, I sighed deeply and tapped my fingers on the marble top. “I’m trusting you, Dru. I really am. So what’s the plan for today?”

  This morning I’d woken up and knew my powers were nearly all gone. I tried to turn on my chamber lights and had been unable to. I needed to find my consort soon, but I hated the very necessity of it.

  She smiled. “Today, we have the males show off.”

  ~*~

  The air was steamy and muggy with a hint of rain off in the horizon. I sat beneath a large canopy on the grounds behind my castle. The forest of wonderland to the front of me seemed far more alive and malevolent than was the norm. A grove of towering trumpet trees blasted their music, gloomy black oaks blanketed a section of land in total darkness, slithering snake trees with python branches hissed and struck out if anyone neared within striking distance.

  I’d requested an angel-winged fern be positioned to the side of me, to help blow a gentle, sweet breeze on my face so that I wouldn’t pass out from heat exhaustion. My dresser (a churlish, crone aged servant) had again clothed me in a gown far too heavy and stifling, reminding me the moment I’d begun protesting, that I was the landian queen and was required to dress the part.

  My face was painted, my breasts practically spilling from its too-tight top; all in all I felt ridiculous and uncomfortable. Thankfully I sat beneath a gilded tent lined with silks from the East and was not forced to interact with another soul.

  I did not think I could bear anyone’s company today. Sighing, I stared sightlessly at the men parading about like a bunch of overstuffed peacocks.

  One man in particular though, I could not find. Which only fueled my state of discontent.

  Bastard.

  I was without magic, but Charles had been born without any. He’d not always worn his ring of power, and for instances like those, he’d developed a system of smoke and mirrors that gave off the illusion he still had it.

  Thanking my lucky stars for it now because the woods reverberated with life, I watched as one man after another showed off in whatever manner he deemed appropriate.

  One male, Donner or Ranger—goddess, who knew, I could hardly keep track of so many names—could apparently manifest glass with nothing but a thought. He’d crafted an entire panel of mirrored glass that, because of how it had been positioned, suddenly made the men of twenty appear as a horde of thousands.

  The smoky manifestation of sulfur tickled my nose. “What a bunch of apish bores,” Cheshire drawled, his vivid green furred tail swishing back and forth lazily.

  Normally, I’d tell him to shoo, but while I had no desire
to deal with humans, I did not so much mind the cat. For today, I was oddly glad of his company.

  “You’re green. Why?”

  Sickle-shaped teeth exposed themselves with his half lilting, embarrassed smirk. “Don’t ask. Let us simply say it involved Hatter’s grandson, a bucket of frosting, and Alice.”

  I chuckled. It’d been far too long since I’d made a visit out to see them. Many years ago, the Hatter and I hadn’t gotten on. There hadn’t really been a reason for it, other than he’d been far too mad for me to take seriously. But since meeting his Alice, things had changed for him.

  “Good. Next time I hope they drown you in it.” I sniffed.

  But the cat was not to be deterred; he chuckled heartily as his keen gaze studied the men. “I sniff the dragon in the lot.”

  He did not say it with fear. Cheshire knew Ragoth. So far as Ragoth had told me, they’d often spoken at length while awaiting my arrival. Cheshire was a prickly, arrogant beast of an animal, but I would swear my last gold coin, there was a hint of delight purring through his voice.

  “Where?” I’d still yet to spy him, and it annoyed me that the cat could see him and I couldn’t. If I’d had my magic, this would not have been a problem.

  “Over yonder, beyond the blueberry petals of huckleberry hill.”

  I looked where he’d indicated but saw nothing other than a field of bluebells and berries. Pressing my lips together, I hoped against hope that Ragoth did not intend to become his dragon just yet. Given time, my people might someday accept who he was...

  And then it struck me where my line of thinking had led me, and I startled.

  That’d seemed like a very permanent sort of thought.

  Cheshire, completely oblivious to the meanderings of my mind, chuckled dulcetly. “That baboon is going to crack the mirror if he continues on.”

  “Huh?” Frowning, I turned to look and then groaned when I spotted another male I didn’t quite know, flexing and pirouetting. Hopping like a prancing gazelle, so that the reflection of hundreds suddenly all joined in dance behind him. “Goddess,” I groaned.

  “Pretty they may be”—his tail flicked nearly beneath my nose—“but they are truly some of the most vapid humans I’ve ever had the misfortune of knowing.”