The Mad Queen (The Fae War Chronicles Book 5)

by Jocelyn Fox

  “I was watching you,” announced the Glasidhe warrior from her shoulder. It was a bit disorienting, not being able to see the person talking, but Vivian thought she’d get used to it.

  “Just practicing,” said Vivian, trying to sound casual.

  Farin leapt from her shoulder in a blaze of beautiful blue and green sparks. “Yes! Practice is essential!” She hovered at eye-level and bared her pointed teeth in a mischievous grin. “Would you like to learn something else?”

  “Yes,” said Vivian immediately, even as the logical part of her mind knew that she should probably ask what exactly the fierce little warrior wanted to teach her.

  “Eager,” said Farin with a nod. “That is good.” She whirled in a dizzying loop. “My cousins Flora and Forsythe had the honor of teaching swordsmanship to the Bearer.” She finished her aerial acrobatics and crossed her arms over her chest, looking at Vivian with an evaluating gaze. “And so I will claim the honor of teaching swordsmanship to the first Paladin.”

  Vivian blinked. “Okay, wait. Hold on. Too much, too fast.” Her mind picked out two key words: swordsmanship, to which her heart leaped excitedly, and Paladin, around which her mind circled in puzzlement. She checked on Ramel, using the silence as she watched the rise and fall of his chest to think. Farin turned another loop as she waited for an answer.

  “Swordsmanship, yes,” said Vivian, sitting back on her heels. Ramel showed no signs of waking – no signs of change at all, really. She glanced at the clock on the desk and saw that it had been a little over an hour since she’d taken the watch. The shadows of dusk leaked into the room. She didn’t hear any more arguing from beyond the closed door, and she wondered if Molly had already left to meet Corsica. Then she took a deep breath. “Okay, yes to the swordsmanship lessons, but only if you explain what you mean by Paladin. I know the word itself means something like champion. It was used in ancient Rome and I think the etymology is Latin into French.” She stopped herself and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Sorry. I geek out when I’m stressed.”

  “Oh, I did not mean to cause you any distress,” said Farin quickly, her aura still sparking with excitement. “And you already know what Paladin means! I should not have to explain it!”

  “I want to know what it means the way you’re using it,” pressed Vivian. She felt like she was at the edge of a cliff, gazing down into the serene green water below. She would have to make the decision to leap. The sense of immense distance stretching below her gave her a moment of strange vertigo, seated as she was on the floor of the study.

  “In the centuries before the closing of the Great Gate, there were Paladins,” said Farin. “Mortals marked as champions, as Fae-friends who helped us defend our world and their own against creatures of darkness.”

  Vivian swallowed. The sense of vertigo returned and she tried to combat it by standing. It helped a little, but she still felt dizzy, so she paced to the desk and then to the door, counting her steps. Eight steps to the door and eight steps back to the desk. Farin kept pace with her, flying just in front of her.

  “The Paladins lived in the White City,” she continued excitedly. “I do not know if they had a guild, though the guilds of the Courts were disbanded after the rebellion that Tyr led.”

  “I’m not a Paladin!” burst out Vivian. Ramel stirred and she froze. When he settled back into sleep, she continued in a quieter voice, “Farin, what you’re saying makes me really excited. It does. But I’m not like Tess, and I’m certainly not like Molly! I don’t have Fae blood and I’m not going to fulfill any prophecy!”

  Farin hovered closer, lowering her voice as well. “The Paladins were never a fulfillment of any prophecy! Some of them had children with the Fae, yes, and that was a source of great discontent in the Courts sometimes, but they were all worthy mortals who pledged themselves in service to both our world and theirs!”

  “I’m just the owner of a coffee shop in the city that I inherited from my grandparents,” Vivian said weakly, her head spinning. She didn’t know whether her stomach hurt from excitement or sudden inexplicable dread. Emotions were confusing.

  “I have not known you long, Lady Vivian, but from what I have seen, you are strong and brave and loyal,” said Farin staunchly.

  “Why didn’t Niall mention the Paladins?” Vivian clung to the idea that perhaps the Glasidhe was inventing something, because if the Seelie Knight hadn’t thought she was worthy, well, then perhaps Paladins didn’t exist at all...or he didn’t think she’d make the cut.

  “He might not remember,” said Farin.

  “What? That makes no sense.”

  “It does if you are bound to a Sidhe queen who can pick and choose what memories to erase from your head,” replied Farin sweetly.

  Vivian felt her eyebrows rise toward her hairline of their own accord as she absorbed Farin’s statement. “Okay then. I thought Mab was supposed to be the bad guy, not Titania.”

  “They are both queens and they are both powerful,” replied Farin vaguely. Then she crossed her arms again and her aura emitted a pinwheel of sparks. “What is your answer, Lady Vivian?”

  “Just Vivian,” she replied. She didn’t know why Farin giggled at that. “Yes to learning how to use a sword. As for the Paladin thing…I think that has to be run through more than just me.”

  “They will see the wisdom in making more Paladins,” said Farin confidently. “And I will teach you to handle a sword so they will have no excuse!”

  “Right,” said Vivian.

  Farin flew over to the other side of the room, pointing down at another sheath. “Use this sword. It is one of Molly’s shorter blades.”

  “You’re sure she wouldn’t mind?”

  “A sword is a sword,” said Farin dismissively. “Unless it is the Iron Sword, and then Sidhe cannot touch it at all,” she clarified. “You are helping Molly by watching Ramel, and I am helping everyone by teaching you how to handle a blade. It is all for the common good.”

  “Sounds logical enough to me,” said Vivian. She pulled a hair elastic out of her pocket and wrangled her curls into a voluminous ponytail. “Should I stretch or something?”

  “We will start with a series of simple movements to ready your body for work,” said Farin, producing her own glimmering blade and dimming her aura so that Vivian could see the outline of her slender body more clearly.

  “I have the feeling this isn’t the first time you’ve taught someone how to use a sword,” she commented.

  Farin merely grinned, her pointed teeth catching the dim light, and began Vivian’s instruction.

  Nearly an hour later, Vivian held up a hand. “Okay, hold on, give me five minutes. I should check on Ramel again.” She carefully set down Molly’s sword, trying not to let her arm shake. Her legs felt like someone had set fire to her muscles, and she plucked her t-shirt away from her sweaty skin.

  “Do not rest for too long,” said Farin imperiously, pointing her sword at Vivian. “Your body will get cold and it will be more painful to finish the rest of the lesson.”

  Vivian reminded herself that she’d voluntarily agreed to these lessons. Her broken arm ached sharply as she knelt by Ramel. With a sigh, she realized too late that the room was too dim to see him properly, and she heaved herself to her feet. After clicking on the desk lamp, she turned back to Ramel and bit back a sound of surprise. His eyes were open, and he was watching her.

  “Hello,” she said.

  The ghost of a smile touched his bluish lips. “Tess started learning with only one arm too.” His voice came out as a hoarse rasp and he winced.

  Vivian’s stomach clenched. How long had he been awake? “I’m sorry, I should have been paying closer attention instead of…well, doing that.”

  “No need to apologize,” said Ramel. “I enjoyed…watching.”

  She blinked and evaluated him. The comment wasn’t meant to be suggestive, she decided. He looked too tired to imbue his words with any hidden meanings. She cleared her throat.

  “M
y name is Vivian. Molly is out for a bit, so I agreed to watch over you,” she said. “Would you like some water?”

  Ramel nodded, the motion so minute that she would’ve missed it if she hadn’t been watching. She twisted the cap off the top of one of the water bottles and then hesitated, unsure if he could sit up or drink on his own. But she suppressed the urge to call Jess and slid closer, holding out the water.

  Ramel raised one arm but then sighed as his hand shook too badly for him to take the bottle. She could see the frustration in his eyes, layered on top of the pain.

  “Hold on,” she said, struck by a sudden idea. She turned and grabbed one of the pillows from Molly’s nest of blankets on the floor. But she couldn’t raise his head and slide the pillow under him at the same time with only one functional hand. With her own sound of frustration, she moved to take off her sling.

  “Don’t do that,” said Ramel. He paused and took a deep breath. “I can manage.”

  And he did, raising his head with a herculean effort so that she could slide the pillow beneath him. Propped up at a better angle, she held the water bottle to his lips and helped him drink with slow concentration. He sipped at the water until almost half the bottle was gone, and then he closed his eyes and laid his head back on the pillow. Vivian screwed the cap back onto the bottle and thought he’d gone back to sleep until he said, “Did I hurt anyone?”

  “What?” Vivian turned back to him.

  “I…wasn’t myself,” he said in a low voice. When he opened his eyes and met her gaze, she saw a ravening guilt that pierced her with pity. “Did I hurt anyone?”

  “I don’t think so,” she replied. She looked down at her hand and rubbed her palm against her thigh. “Actually,” she said slowly, “I was the one who hurt you.”

  A slight crease appeared on his pale brow. “What?”

  “I threw one of the spell-orbs from Corsica’s bracelet at the bone sorcerer and you got caught in the blast,” confessed Vivian. She swallowed hard, both relieved that she’d told him and anxious for his reaction.

  “The blast,” he repeated, understanding dawning over his face. “The blast that broke the rune inside my armor.”

  “And nearly killed you,” said Vivian miserably.

  “I didn’t do that to you, did I?” he asked, his eyes fixed on her sling.

  “No,” she replied quickly. “No, the bone sorcerer picked me up and slammed me into one of the porch pillars after I threw the spell-orb. You were already…out.”

  “Good,” said Ramel, giving a sigh of relief.

  Vivian glanced over at Farin, who stood on the desk with her arms crossed over her chest, watching Ramel with silent intensity. She got the feeling that Farin had seen Ramel do things that made her mistrustful of the Unseelie Knight.

  “You did hurt people,” said the Glasidhe into the silence, her mellifluous voice hard. “You hurt Molly and you would have hurt Tess.”

  Vivian didn’t think it was possible for Ramel to be any paler, but he blanched, his skin more gray than white.

  “I fought Mab,” he said. “I fought hard.”

  “You did not fight hard enough,” replied Farin mercilessly.

  “Farin,” said Vivian in a shocked undertone.

  The Glasidhe glared at Ramel, gave a dismissive flick of her wings and turned on her heel, stalking to the edge of the desk and stepping off the edge, neatly dropping down into the open drawer that she’d claimed as Forin’s sick-room.

  Vivian cleared her throat. “Are you hungry? Do you think you could drink some broth?”

  “Yes,” said Ramel, his eyes closed again.

  Vivian fled the room, feeling guilty at the wash of relief that flooded through her as she closed the door behind her. Jess looked up from the kitchen table, a book open in front of him.

  “Don’t look so surprised,” the older man said laconically, rubbing the bristle on his jaw with one hand. “Just because I hunt bad guys for a living doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy a good novel every now and again.”

  Vivian bought time by opening the fridge. She spied the Tupperware with the red lid, pulled it out and popped it into the microwave. “What are you reading?”

  Jess lifted the book so she could see the cover. “Michener.”

  She smiled. “I wouldn’t have taken you for the epic historical fiction type.” Then she sobered. “Nobody’s back yet?”

  Jess shook his head. “I wouldn’t expect ‘em for another hour or so yet.” He nodded to the whirring microwave. “That your dinner?”

  “Oh,” Vivian said. “No. Ramel woke up.” She watched the container spinning in the microwave for a moment. “It kind of sucks that he didn’t wake up when Molly was here.”

  “He’ll wake up again,” replied Jess.

  “That’s…actually a very logical way to look at it,” conceded Vivian with a nod. She grabbed an oven mitt and pulled the broth out of the microwave. After a moment of consideration, she pulled a large, sturdy mug out of the cabinet and poured half the broth into it.

  “Good call,” said Jess with a mild note of approval in his voice.

  Vivian smiled and put the leftover broth back into the refrigerator. Mug in hand, she turned the doorknob with the hand of the arm in her sling, ignoring her arm’s protest. She toed the door shut behind her.

  “Smells good,” said Ramel with an attempt at a smile.

  Vivian found herself smiling too. She hadn’t expected the Unseelie Knight to be so…charming. He didn’t seem as formal as Niall. Maybe it was because he was younger…though she was sure he was still at least a century older than her. Maybe more. Probably more.

  She tested the temperature of the broth and then knelt again by his bed. “Let me know if it’s too hot.”

  After a careful test sip, Ramel drank the rest of the broth with a speed that astonished Vivian. He gave a sigh of contentment as he leaned back against his pillow. She set the empty mug aside and drew one leg up to her chest, leaning her chin on her knee.

  “Is the light too bright? I can turn it off,” she said, glancing at the desk lamp’s mellow glow.

  “No. I like it,” he replied. He opened his eyes and looked at her. “Where did Molly go?”

  Vivian shifted uncomfortably. Was she supposed to come up with some benign falsehood that wouldn’t worry him? Molly hadn’t instructed her to do anything like that, so she decided on the truth. “She’s meeting Corsica.”

  “What?” Ramel said sharply, his voice loud enough to make Vivian jump. And then, just as suddenly, his eyes rolled back and his body went rigid. Vivian’s stomach dropped and she felt sick as she lunged forward, pressing her fingers to his neck to feel his pulse. The blue of his lips deepened into frostbitten as his body shook.

  “Jess!” Vivian called, her voice breaking. “Jess, something’s wrong!”

  The door opened before she’d finished yelling. Jess loomed over Ramel, his large rough hands quickly checking his vitals. Ramel’s hand suddenly caught Jess’s wrist. The big man grunted and Vivian saw the bruising tightness of Ramel’s grip. Ramel gasped, sucking in a breath and then holding it as his body went rigid again.

  “Is he having a seizure? Can they even have seizures?” Vivian asked. “What do we do?”

  Jess didn’t answer her. Ramel gasped again and then tried to say something, but she couldn’t understand the garbled word. He gritted his teeth and tried again with his next breath. Her stomach dropped as her mind finally recognized the single syllable.

  “What did he say?” Jess demanded.

  “Mab,” Vivian said, watching helplessly as another tremor wracked Ramel’s body. “He said ‘Mab.’”

  Chapter 18

  Tess couldn’t sleep, which was no surprise. After the sparring session with Ariel and Tristan, her body felt pleasantly tired, but her mind whirled with uneasy thoughts. The tight knot of anxiety in her chest made it difficult to think about eating dinner, but her stomach rumbled hungrily after her exertions in the practice yard, so she’d sighed
and gotten cleaned up, washing with the hot water from her spell-wrought basin and pulling on a clean pair of trousers and a plain shirt. The bandolier of the Sword pressed against her chest with a steady weight that anchored her. To her relief, she’d traversed the passageways of the Vyldgard stronghold with no more conversation than pleasantries exchanged with passing fighters. She’d filled a kerchief with bread, meat and cheese and walked back to her quarters with her little bundle of food.

  Someone might think something is amiss, the Caedbranr commented as she opened the door behind the tapestry.

  “I’m always antisocial, so that’s nothing new,” muttered Tess in reply as she set the kerchief down on her table. She forced herself to eat until her stomach stopped growling, but the bread seemed dry and the cheese and meat tasteless. She chewed mechanically, staring into the embers of the fire. It was strange to be on the other side of the raid – one of the ones waiting rather than on the mission itself.

  A knock sounded at her wall. She investigated with a thread of taebramh and found that it was Liam.

  “Come in,” she called.

  “Hey,” he said as he walked through the stone wall.

  “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to seeing that,” she commented. She pushed the piece of cloth with the remnants of her simple meal across the table. “Want some dinner?”

  “Don’t mind if I do,” said Liam. He spun a chair around and straddled it, resting his elbows on the crosspiece as he surveyed the food.

  Tess chuckled, but she felt the sound rattle in her throat, just as the bread had tasted dry in her mouth. “What’s up?”

  Liam shrugged as he constructed a sandwich out of her leftovers. “Thought you could use some company for a while. It sucks waiting for guys to come back when you didn’t get to roll out with them.”