The Mad Queen (The Fae War Chronicles Book 5)

by Jocelyn Fox

  He bowed with a little flourish, the sun turning his golden hair into a bright halo about his head. His sparring partner inclined his head to Tess.

  “Lady Bearer, I won’t be insulted if you decline the offer,” he said courteously.

  Though part of her wanted to go back to her rooms and ponder the different outcomes of the night’s raid, she thought that perhaps this would be better for her in the long run. “How can I refuse two such gentlemen?”

  “Queen Titania ensures that we remember our manners,” said Tristan with a cheeky grin.

  Tess chuckled as she set down her bow and quiver, accepting Tristan’s sword and testing its weight in her right hand. “I’ll bet she does.” After a few swings of the blade, she felt reasonably confident in her understanding of its balance. It was a bit lighter than her plain blade but just like all Sidhe weapons it was crafted with seamless excellence. She nodded to Tristan’s sparring partner. “When I’m in the practice ring, it’s not ‘Lady Bearer,’ it’s just Tess, all right?”

  The other Seelie fighter inclined his head graciously. “I cannot refute such a declaration from a lady.”

  “So if I weren’t a lady, you’d argue?” Tess raised her eyebrows as she completed a few more passes with the sword. “What if I told you I’m not really a lady?”

  The Seelie fighter laughed and said to Tristan, “You didn’t mention that she was witty.”

  “I was drugged with dragon smoke when Tristan first met me,” admitted Tess with a grin. It felt good to banter, even though a small voice in the back of her head told her that she shouldn’t be enjoying herself when her friends were preparing for their dangerous mission.

  “I’ve heard that’s nasty stuff,” said her opponent.

  “I thought you said Titania ensured you all had manners,” Tess quipped as they stepped into the ring. “We’re about to spar and you haven’t properly introduced yourself.”

  The Seelie man raised his free hand. “By the stars, I should forfeit right now. I apologize profusely.” His puckish grin reminded her of Robin, but with a bit more boyishness and less glinting mischief. “My name is Ariel.” His grin widened at her look of confusion, which she tried to hide. “I’m well aware that these days in the mortal world it’s a woman’s name. But let’s just say my mother loved Shakespeare when he was first staging his plays.”

  “Ariel like from The Tempest,” said Tess weakly.

  “Just so,” said Ariel, bowing again impishly. “But I like to think that I am not a slave to anyone. And I wasn’t ever imprisoned in a tree,” he added as an afterthought.

  “I’ll have to read the play again,” Tess said with a smile. “You’ve got me feeling like an uncultured savage.”

  Ariel laughed. “That was not my intention, Lady Bearer. Er, Tess.” He glanced down to ensure that he was within the outline of the sparring ring. Straightening, he raised his blade in invitation.

  “I’m a bit rusty,” cautioned Tess as she stepped into the sparring ring and brought her own sword up into sparring stance.

  Ariel grinned. “Don’t worry, Tess, I won’t embarrass you too…” He leapt back as she launched into a ferocious attack, their blades quickly becoming blurs of silver. Tess tossed her sword into her left hand and snaked it past his guard, the sharp tip resting neatly at the hollow of his throat. “…much,” he finished breathlessly. His hazel eyes danced as he shifted his gaze from the sword at his throat to Tess’s triumphant face. “I think I’m in love,” he said, grinning.

  Tess rolled her eyes and stepped back, lowering her sword from Ariel’s throat, though she was grinning too. Her chest squeezed as Ariel also reminded her of Ramel, his grin and playful flirting when she’d first been spirited into the Unseelie Court. Her smile faltered as she wondered if he was still alive in the mortal world. She hefted her blade. “Another round?”

  “The lady’s wish is my command,” said Ariel, and this time he wasn’t caught off guard by her quick attack.

  By the time she’d finished sparring with Ariel, they’d both won two matches and lost two matches, if she counted the first bout when she’d caught him off guard. Tristan surreptitiously prevented a crowd from forming to watch the Bearer, speaking in a low voice to those who stopped to watch. After a moment, they’d nod and move on to another ring or the archery targets. Tess felt an odd sense of gratitude to them both for treating her with such normalcy.

  “Well, Tess, you’ve successfully made me sweat,” said Ariel. He winked at her. “Not many women have that privilege.”

  “I don’t know whether you’re implying that you’re very selective…or that you prefer men,” replied Tess with a smile.

  Ariel threw back his head and laughed, the sound of unrestrained mirth rolling over Tess like the joyful ringing of bells. “Sharp sword and sharp wit,” said Ariel when he regained his ability to speak. “Goodness, I’m sure the Unseelie absolutely wasted you when you stayed with them.”

  “Well, it wasn’t really voluntary,” pointed out Tess. She pulled her shirt away from her sweaty torso as she gave Tristan’s sword back to him. “I owe you a few rounds of sparring, if you’d like,” she told him.

  “Of course I would,” he said with a smile. Compared to Ariel, the young Seelie scout seemed mature and even a bit sedate.

  “And I will always offer myself as a partner for whatever activity you desire,” added Ariel with another wink.

  “I’m not sure that your offer would sit well with a certain ulfdrengr,” said Tristan dryly.

  Ariel gestured to his slim body and said, “Variety is the spice of life, my friend.”

  “All right, enough of all that,” said Tess, trying to keep her voice light though she felt her face heating.

  Ariel sobered. “I did not mean any offense, my lady.”

  She sighed and shook her head with a smile even as the blush faded from her cheeks. “I know. Seelie humor is much more…suggestive…than Unseelie. It still catches me unawares sometimes.” She glanced up at the sun, about to slide behind the spires of the White City. “Thank you for the sparring practice and the company. I must attend to other matters now.”

  “It was our pleasure, Lady Bearer,” said Tristan sincerely. Ariel grinned and raised his eyebrows rakishly. Tristan elbowed him lightly in the ribs as Tess collected her bow and quiver. She chuckled and gave them a wave as she exited the practice yards, feeling the curious eyes of a dozen or so other fighters on her as she left.

  When she returned to her quarters, they were empty but for a hastily penned note pinned under one of her books on the table: Two hours past midnight, the Queen’s Pavilion.

  She recognized the handwriting as Finnead’s, and her chest tightened. She read the simple phrase three more times, then carried the scrap of parchment over to the fireplace and placed it on the embers, standing silently and wondering how she would fill the hours as she watched the parchment curl into smoke.

  Chapter 15

  “So we’re supposed to believe that Corsica is still a ‘good guy’?” asked Ross skeptically, stabbing the air with her fingers as she sketched quotes around her last two words.

  “From what you’ve told us, she’s more unhinged than villainous,” said Molly.

  Ross looked at Molly across the kitchen table. They’d convened a war council of sorts around the unassuming table: Ross, Jess, Niall, Molly and Duke occupied the chairs. Vivian sat with Ramel. Jess had checked on Tyr before they’d started the meeting and reported with cautious optimism that the wounded Exile seemed to be doing much better and was sleeping peacefully.

  “That doesn’t mean that what she’s doing is right,” countered Ross. She felt Duke’s gaze but refused to look at him. He’d probably be begging her to calm down with his eyes, but it always made her angry when he did that. It made her feel like she was overreacting and she was not overreacting. “She almost killed Tyr. She would have killed Forin, if Niall hadn’t intervened. She freed the bone sorcerer. And then she stalked me.”

  �
�She could have killed you,” Molly pointed out calmly.

  Ross clenched her jaw, remembering the fear coiled in her belly when she’d faced off with Corsica under the bayou tree.

  “Just because she didn’t kill Ross doesn’t make her a good guy,” Jess rumbled.

  Molly held up the dagger and set it on the table. Ross tried not to think of it flashing toward her, fast as thought. “From the message she sent, Corsica doesn’t intend to hurt anyone but Mab.”

  “And how does one seek revenge against a powerful Sidhe Queen?” said Niall thoughtfully.

  Molly arched an eyebrow at him. “You’d know better than I. Mab unbound my Fae side, but she wiped my memories and then threatened to kill me. So I don’t really have a great grasp of her capabilities other than her cruelty.”

  “Mab is not the same as my Queen,” Niall replied. “She let loss and sorrow twist her into something hard and cold.”

  Molly didn’t look convinced, but she shrugged and said, “If you say so.”

  Crossing her arms over her chest, Ross said skeptically, “Loss and sorrow doesn’t mean you can just let yourself act however you want.”

  She closed her teeth on the other words following that sentence. They sounded too much like a confession, too much like something raw and vulnerable. She trusted Duke, but she wasn’t ready to let the others see the side of her that was…damaged. Damaged from her time in the hot sun of the desert, melted out of shape by the blast that left the scar bisecting her upper arm, lodging something hard and sharp like shrapnel in her soul. She still had a small piece of metal in her arm, nestled where it was hard for the surgeons to get at and where it wasn’t causing any huge problems. Her body had healed around it, but sometimes she thought she could feel it shift minutely. It was like that with the guilt in her chest.

  Duke glanced at her. He always knew when the sharp edges jabbed at her, probably because he had his own sharp edges to deal with.

  “I think we should ask Tyr what he knows,” said Vivian, appearing in the kitchen. She pulled at one of her curls self-consciously as everyone at the table turned to look at her.

  “I mean, we could get him a chalkboard or a notepad, I guess,” drawled Duke. “Last I heard his voice was locked up tight with Mab, Little Mermaid style.”

  “I can’t believe I just heard you reference an animated movie,” said Ross, shaking her head.

  “It’s an accurate comparison,” protested Duke.

  “Does he have to kiss someone to regain his voice?” Molly asked dryly, a hint of a smile on her lips.

  Ross noticed that Vivian blushed when Molly suggested a kiss to lift Tyr’s curse, but she didn’t know whether it was just because of all the attention focused on her roommate. For all her friend’s ebullient personality, Vivian vacillated between extroverted delight in new people and places and an almost painful shyness, depending on the situation. Vivian cleared her throat.

  “Well,” she said awkwardly, “I mean…” She took a deep breath. “I can…talk to him.”

  Everyone stared at her.

  “Like…in my head?” she finished, making it sound like a question rather than a statement.

  “In your head,” repeated Duke slowly.

  “Maybe your concussion from the other day was worse than we thought,” Ross said gently, pushing her chair back from the table. “How about we get you some meds and more rest?”

  Vivian stepped back, her green eyes flashing. “How is it fair that everyone is assuming that I’m hallucinating because of a concussion or something?” She raised her chin. “I know I’m the awkward one who does dumb stuff like throwing spell-orbs that I don’t know how to use, but is it really so difficult to believe that I’d be able to talk to Tyr?” Her voice heated as she continued speaking, the tips of her ears turning red.

  “You’re not awkward and dumb,” sighed Ross.

  “I believe you,” said Niall at the same time.

  “I never said I was dumb,” Vivian muttered at Ross. “I just said I did dumb stuff.” She turned to Niall. “Thank you.”

  “It is most likely because he drank your blood,” said Niall thoughtfully.

  “What?” Ross rounded on the Seelie man. “You knew this was a possibility?”

  “Ross,” said Duke in a carefully neutral tone.

  “We can debate about why or how I can hear him later,” said Vivian, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “What I’m saying is that he might have some useful insight as to Corsica’s plans. They’ve been here in the mortal world for four centuries. At some time or other, they must have daydreamed about revenge.”

  “She has a point,” said Molly.

  “Can we wait long enough for him to wake up again?” Duke asked, leaning back in his chair and stretching.

  “I think I can wake him up now,” said Vivian. “He might be a little bit grumpy, but…” She shrugged. “He’s…doing better,” she finished lamely.

  Ross looked at the bandage on Vivian’s forearm. The edges looked loose, like they’d been peeled away and then re-stuck to the skin. She wondered if her friend had given Tyr more blood. A sudden intense wish to shepherd Vivian away from this whole mess overwhelmed her. The five years of age difference between her and Vivian didn’t matter most of the time, but there were occasions when Ross felt what she supposed were protective instincts reminiscent of an older sister.

  “He might have a valid perspective,” said Niall with a nod.

  “I’m coming with you,” said Ross, standing as Vivian turned back toward her bedroom.

  Vivian shrugged. “You won’t be able to hear anything. Like I said, it’s all in my head. Or both our heads, I guess.”

  “You’re just diving headfirst into this, aren’t you,” said Ross as they walked down the hallway.

  “And what’s wrong with that?” demanded Vivian.

  “V, I’m not trying to fight,” said Ross. She already felt wary of the subject but she couldn’t push aside her responsibility to protect her friend.

  “No, you’re just trying to tell me what I should and shouldn’t do,” replied Vivian with a hint of anger.

  “I just want you to be safe.” Ross heard the frustration roughening her voice.

  Vivian stopped in front of her closed bedroom door, whirling to face Ross and putting her good hand on her hip. “Look, Ross, I get it. You’re a protector. You’re like my older sister. I understand the fact that you don’t want anything to happen to me. But guess what? It already has.” She gestured to her left arm in its sling. Her voice heated as she continued. “And guess what? That’s life. No matter how hard you try, bad things happen. At least this way I get to maybe be a part of something good and something really important, too.”

  “What makes you think it’s something good and something really important?” Ross asked, pushing down a wave of irritation at Vivian’s stubbornness.

  Vivian thought for a moment. When she spoke again, her voice was earnest. “Because this is something that I’ve only read about in books, Ross. This is something huge. There’s another world, and magic, and all sorts of things that go along with that.” Enthusiasm colored her words. “This is the stuff that I’ve dreamed about my entire life, Ross. This is the stuff that I’ve imagined. That’s why it’s so important. It has the potential to change our entire world. And we’re in on the ground floor. We can be a part of whether that change is for better or worse.”

  A moment of silence stretched between them. Then Ross sighed. “You know, it’s really annoying when you say things that I can’t really argue with.”

  “I mean, you could argue with them,” Vivian said in an attempt at humor that fell flat. She pulled at a curl and raised her eyebrows. “You still wanna come watch the silent conversation?”

  “If I didn’t, I’d be back at the table already,” said Ross with a smile.

  “True. Alright, well, like I said, he might be grumpy,” said Vivian, lowering her voice as she opened the door.

  Ross leaned against the
doorframe and watched silently as Vivian tiptoed over to the nest of blankets on the floor, Tyr’s silver hair just visible at the top. Vivian knelt and then hesitated. Ross tensed as Vivian reached out and slipped a hand beneath the blankets to touch Tyr’s shoulder.

  The silver-haired Exile stirred and sighed.

  “Sorry,” murmured Vivian, “but something’s happened. There was a message from Corsica. I thought you’d want to know.”

  Tyr shot upright. Ross leapt forward, but Vivian didn’t seem alarmed at all, keeping her position less than an arm’s length away from Tyr.

  His silver hair sticking upright at all angles, Tyr leveled his gray eyes at Vivian. She blinked and nodded. Ross slowly relaxed and then grew impatient as the two of them stared at each other for a few minutes without saying a word, one or the other gesturing with their hands at intervals.

  “Well, you’ve definitely convinced me,” she said to Vivian when she finally couldn’t take the silence anymore. “I mean, I guess you could both just be…acting. But that would be even weirder than the truth at this point.”

  Vivian shook herself slightly and turned to Ross. “Sorry. I guess I could have said my side out loud, but I didn’t know whether that would be more confusing and he says I should practice.”

  “Oh, he does, does he,” said Ross, shifting her gaze to Tyr. He met her eyes calmly and even smiled. Somehow that irritated her again.

  “I told him about the dagger and about Corsica’s offer to Molly,” said Vivian.

  “You were listening to all that?”

  “Yes,” said Vivian remorselessly. “Tyr said that they talked about taking revenge on Mab. Or rather, Corsica talked about it a lot. He’d settle for just being able to go back to Faeortalam.”

  “Fae…what?” Ross felt like Vivian was speeding away from her and she couldn’t catch up. The strange name rolled so easily off her friend’s tongue.

  “The Fae world,” said Vivian. “Anyway, from what he heard Corsica say, she intends to kill Mab.”