The Mad Queen (The Fae War Chronicles Book 5)

by Jocelyn Fox

  You said you weren’t meant to survive at all, Vivian said. Maybe she could gain more insight into Queen Mab if she asked the right questions. The Sidhe Queen existed nebulously in Vivian’s mind, without any defined parameters. It was difficult to understand an enemy without any reference but what she’d been able to glean from online mythology compendiums and one of Shakespeare’s comedies.

  No, said Tyr. Shadows lingered in his eyes. Some said the queen should have just killed us, executed us for treason.

  Vivian shivered. You were her people.

  In her eyes, we rebelled against her. Tyr pressed his full lips into a hard line. In our minds, we merely wanted the ability to choose our own fates.

  Choose your own fate? Like leave the Court? she asked.

  My sister Rye and I travelled to the North, said Tyr. In those days, the ulfdrengr were hundreds strong, several different packs ruled by one powerful herravaldyr and his volta consort. A wry smile twisted his mouth. I made the mistake of calling her his queen once.

  Only once? Vivian felt an answering smile on her own lips.

  Only once, he confirmed, a flash of amusement passing briefly through his eyes. Then he sobered. Rye wanted nothing more than to return to the North, to study and perhaps be accepted in some way by the ulfdrengr. When we were young, Mab denied her the opportunity to enter training as a page. Women were not allowed to become Knights or Guards.

  Narrow minded, offered Vivian. She didn’t want to say too much and interrupt this extraordinary revelation.

  Tyr nodded. But that was…. must have been…nearly five centuries ago now. Perhaps even six. The last Bearer still walked in our world when we were young. That fond half-smile appeared on his lips again. Rye saw Lady Gwyneth challenge one of the young Knights at the Midwinter festivities. We were barely old enough to stay up past dusk but we talked our mother into letting us attend. It was all in good spirits, of course, but Rye watched Gwyneth spar with that Knight and hold her own. She told me that if a doendhine could fight so well with a sword, she would one day too.

  Vivian sat silently, listening with rapt attention. Gwyneth. Vivian’s ancestress, so far in the past of her family that she hadn’t even known of her existence, much less her importance. Tyr had seen her, had walked the same paths as her, and now they sat together on Vivian’s bed in a little bedroom in southern Louisiana. She felt a little dizzy at the impossibility of it.

  And she did, continued Tyr. Rye became one of the best warriors among the pack that hosted us as honored guests during our time in the North. They valued her so highly that when the herravaldyr and volta journeyed to Darkhill after we had been forbidden to rejoin them, they broached the subject with Queen Mab. He shook his head. That did not endear us to her.

  But you only wanted to pursue the best path for you, Vivian said softly.

  It is easy to say that now, in this world, but Faeortalam, you must understand….it was different, even then. Our Queen demanded our allegiance and our love with a fierceness that bordered on obsession.

  You can’t force someone to love you, protested Vivian.

  She forced us to act very convincingly that we did, returned Tyr darkly.

  Well, that was one very disturbing detail to add some realism to her mental portrait of Queen Mab.

  Rye became one of Princess Andraste’s confidantes. Perhaps she thought that the Queen would shift her stance on women warriors…which she did, after Rye died holding off Malravenar’s forces so that Knight Finnead could escape their prison and tell the story of Andraste’s death.

  Vivian swallowed past the lump in her throat. Impulsively, she reached out and took one of Tyr’s hands in her own. Words didn’t seem adequate to express her understanding of his sorrow at the death of his sister. Even now, centuries later, she heard the depth of his grief in his tightly controlled words, as though he’d lose his grip on his emotions if he let himself feel anything at all. He didn’t draw his hand out of her grasp, but he blinked a few times, as though he had to adjust to the feeling of being touched so casually.

  I would have liked to meet Rye, Vivian said. She let herself smile. I’m sure she would have taught me a lot.

  Her favorite weapon was the light axe favored by the women of the North, said Tyr.

  Did Luca have an axe with him? I think so, but I don’t quite remember. Vivian grimaced. That concussion from the bone sorcerer scrambled my brain a little.

  Your brain is quite fine, said Tyr staunchly, squeezing her hand and then gently disengaging. You are learning at a pace faster than I expected.

  Vivian snorted and raised an eyebrow at him. You know what that sounded like to me? I’m learning at a pace faster than you expected for a mere mortal.

  You are mortal, Tyr replied, unruffled. Some of you have talent and some of you are insufferably dense.

  This time Vivian laughed out loud. Tyr smiled, his eyes dancing with humor. She felt herself lean forward, drawn by that strange gravity preceding a fist kiss, her blood singing and her mind wiped clean of anything but the magnetic attraction between them. Tyr didn’t draw away but didn’t lean forward, assuming that statue-still stance again.

  A loud, insistent knock sounded on the bedroom door, snapping the mood neatly in half and making Vivian jump guiltily. An immediate blush burned in her cheeks as Tyr slid off the bed gracefully, just before Duke opened the door. The wiry man didn’t spare them a second glance or give them a look of suspicion, which was the first red flag for Vivian. Duke was as good as her older brother and had expressed his dislike of the unorthodox berthing arrangements in the house a few times.

  “What’s wrong?” Vivian asked, feeling the blood drain from her face as a pit opened in her stomach.

  “Did you talk to Ross?” Duke said. “Did she mention anything about going out tonight?”

  “No,” Vivian replied, shaking her head. “She has early shift tomorrow morning so she said she was just going to grab a shower and head to bed.”

  “Well, she’s not in bed and her truck is gone,” said Duke.

  “Let’s not jump to conclusions,” Vivian soothed, thinking disjointedly that it had been a long time since she’d had to step into the role of voice of reason.

  “She took her Beretta and two extra clips,” he added tightly, running one hand through his hair.

  She is most likely in the city going after Corsica, said Tyr from his corner of the room.

  “Don’t you jump on this bandwagon too,” Vivian cautioned him, pointing at him with one finger.

  “What did he say?” Duke demanded.

  “Nothing that bears repeating,” Vivian replied, digging in her heels. She made a mental note to get better at switching between vocal and telepathic communication. “Let me check my phone.”

  “You probably got the same text I did,” Duke said, pressing his mouth into an angry line. His handsome face, still youthful but weather-beaten from his days and nights in harsh locales, hardened and his eyes sparked with resolve.

  The silence while Vivian waited for her phone to power on felt stifling, but neither Duke nor Tyr said anything. The screen glowed and message notifications began piling in. Vivian swallowed the sour taste in her mouth as she scrolled past multiple messages from Alex, Evie and even Mike. There was one message from Ross.

  “Going into the city. Have Ramel as backup. Don’t follow,” Vivian read aloud, her stomach cramping painfully as the words’ meaning settled in. She looked sharply at Duke. “Ramel is gone? What about Forin and Farin?”

  “I don’t know,” Duke said.

  Vivian pushed past him and went into the study. Ramel’s bed, neatly made with the folded blanket placed precisely at the bottom, was pristine and empty. His sword, which they’d set in the corner along with his mangled armor, was gone. Vivian strode across the room and tapped lightly on the desk drawer that Forin and Farin had made into their living space. It was empty, a few downy feathers and bits of cloth strewn in one corner like an abandoned birds’ nest.

 
“How could they do this to us?” Vivian demanded, her worry replaced by a sudden hot anger. She grabbed her practice sword – at least they hadn’t taken that.

  “What are you doing?” Duke asked from the doorway.

  “Can’t just let Ross go haring off on her own, no matter what she thinks,” Vivian replied. She felt like she’d been punched in the chest. Ross was her best friend. Granted, they’d had a few arguments in the past weeks, mostly centered around Ross’s overprotectiveness. How ironic, then, that Ross was the one to plunge into danger with such casual disregard for Vivian’s opinion. “It’s all right for her to do it but not me?” she growled in an undertone, tightening her sword belt around her waist vengefully.

  “You’re just gonna waltz into downtown wearin’ a sword at your hip?” Duke drawled.

  “It’s New Orleans, I’m sure you’ll see something weirder than this while we find parking,” snapped Vivian.

  I will come as well, Tyr said. Vivian hadn’t even seen him slide into the room.

  Why? she asked, too worked up to even feel proud of the fact that she switched so smoothly into silent communication.

  Because Corsica is partially my responsibility, Tyr replied. His eyes glowed in the shadows. And because I must protect you.

  Vivian straightened indignantly. I don’t need your protection.

  You are a very young Paladin, Tyr replied. All had protectors until they came into their full power.

  She didn’t dignify that with a reply. Screw him and his machismo if he thought that she needed protection.

  “This is gonna go sideways,” muttered Duke, crossing his arms over his chest.

  “It’s going to do that whether we’re there or not,” retorted Vivian. “Ramel wasn’t even out of bed until earlier today. Ross thinks that a gun is going to protect her against the bone sorcerer. And Forin and Farin are…well, they’re small!” She felt vaguely disloyal for voicing any doubt in her diminutive instructors’ capabilities, but she shoved the guilty feeling away.

  Duke blew out a hard breath and then nodded. “You’re right.”

  Vivian gave him a hard look and determined that he wasn’t being sarcastic. “So are you coming with or not?”

  “I’ll meet you out front in ten,” Duke said over his shoulder as he exited the study. Vivian heard him stomp across the kitchen.

  We should bring the rest of the spell orbs, Tyr said, gliding after Duke, silent as a shadow.

  The room felt empty after they left. Vivian grabbed the healing satchel that Tess had left with them, pulling the strap over her head. Her palms itched as sweat prickled down her back. This was really happening. This would be the first test of her abilities as a Paladin. She took a deep breath, made a mental list of other supplies – rune stick, silver knife, the iron chains that Corsica had used against Merrick – and walked out of the study, shutting the door behind her.

  Chapter 34

  At first, Tess didn’t comprehend the immensity of the attack. She knew as she ran down the corridors of the cathedral that it was Mab, but as she skidded into the main corridor, breathing hard, she thought that it was something like a statement. A prod at the High Queen, a feint to try to gain leverage amid the tension. Dust drifted down from overhead as she sprinted down the corridor, a few other men and women making a similar dash in various states of dress and armament.

  If nothing else, Tess thought grimly, Mab had caught them by surprise.

  The explosions seemed to be getting closer, shaking the ground harder with every iteration. Tess emerged into the common area at the front of the cathedral near the healing ward. She picked out Vell immediately, her eyes traveling to the locus of all the urgent activity. Amid binding her dark hair up into a braid, the High Queen calmly gave directions to Finnead and Liam, who in turn began organizing the gathering warriors into squads.

  An explosion rocked the ground and sucked all other sound from the air. One of the white stone walls of the great building shuddered, dust leaking from it like a trickle of blood from a wound. Tess reached Liam just as the ringing in her ears began to fade.

  “Move everyone left in the healing ward to the western side of the ward,” he instructed, “and as close to the entrance as you can. If the walls take significant damage, we may need to evacuate.”

  Tess spied Maeve among the dozen Sidhe that Liam addressed. The head healer nodded brusquely and moved with her group of healers toward the ward.

  “What’s happening?” Tess asked Liam. She spoke louder than she intended and winced, modulating her volume as her ears popped.

  “They’ve been ranging in their weapons,” said Liam grimly. “Gray’s gone to muster the Valkyrie. The practice yards were hit and there’s significant casualties there.”

  Tess felt her chest constrict. “Why? Why would Mab be doing this?”

  “Does it matter?” her brother asked tightly, turning back to the High Queen for any further instruction. Vell finished binding up her hair, resting her fingertips briefly on her gold circlet. She wore her breastplate emblazoned with the head of a wolf, as did Liam and Finnead. Tess wondered how they’d responded so quickly.

  “She must have someone scrying to see where the shots are landing,” said Tess. “Where’s Merrick? He’d be able to put up some defenses against Mab’s navigator.”

  “As best we know, he and Calliea were at the practice yards,” Liam said. He glanced up at the shadowy reaches of the vaulted ceiling as another deafening explosion detonated against the eastern wall.

  “Then that’s where I’m going,” Tess said firmly, even as her stomach dropped. What damage would one of those explosions inflict in the open if it rattled the great cathedral so violently? She firmly shut down that line of thought before she could envision what Mab’s weapons would do to unprotected Vyldgard fighters caught without shelter.

  “I can’t go with you,” Liam said. “We’re staying here, to keep the cathedral from collapsing if we must.”

  A vivid scene inserted itself into Tess’s mind: Vell, blazing with golden fire, tendrils of her power woven through the walls of the cathedral, keeping the great stones from tumbling down on those still within. The Caedbranr’s fire expanded in her chest at the image, the blade rattling in its sheath on her back. If it had been in its primal wolf form, it would have been snarling, hackles raised.

  “Be safe,” she told her brother, touching his shoulder.

  “You too,” he replied.

  “Tess, take Ariel and Sage,” said Vell, her low voice carrying even through the tapestry of sound around them.

  “Robin left for the practice yards with Quinn, Calliea, Merrick and Moira,” Sage told Tess in an unemotional voice as they strode toward the great doors.

  Tess nodded. “Then we’d best get there as fast as we can.” She briefly contemplated fetching Nehalim, but the larger paddocks were a fair distance from the cathedral, unlike those of the winged faehal. They’d have to travel on foot. She cast about and saw a series of shields against the wall by the great doors. Her mind latched onto the memory of another enchanted shield that had borne the brunt of a falling dragon. She jogged over to the shields and quickly surveyed them, picking a light, round shield painted with stripes of azure and gold. The colors made her think of Calliea’s bright breastplate.

  Ariel and Sage wordlessly selected their own shields. For the space of a heartbeat, their silent, unquestioning acceptance of her leadership warmed her with pride and a determination to protect them as well as she could. She took a deep breath, focused on her own shield and released the constrictions on the Sword’s power. Taebramh flowed down her war-markings in a molten rush, the dizzying design blazing instantly through her sleeve. She poured the power into her shield as she held the idea of a shield-but-more-than-a-shield in her mind: a glimmering dome protecting the holder of the shield, strong enough to withstand the blast from Mab’s weapons and sharp shrapnel from rocks, yet light enough to carry and resilient enough to protect against multiple attacks. The edges
of her vision faded into white fire and she felt the Sword helping to craft the shield, weaving tendrils of power and making small adjustments to her original plan.

  When her vision cleared, an echo of her war markings in the same azure and gold as the original painted stripes adorned her shield. It felt slightly heavier, and when she shifted it, the air about it shimmered with a barely-invisible structure, like gossamer threads woven together to produce a fabric so fine it couldn’t be seen. She set it down carefully and held out her hand for Ariel’s shield. He handed it to her immediately, his eyes widening slightly.

  Creating the three shields should have tired her, but Tess realized that the Caedbranr had borne the brunt of the power needed to complete their defenses. She sent it silent thanks as she handed Sage’s shield to him and slid her own onto her arm.

  “I’m the fastest,” Ariel said without any trace of boastfulness. “I’ll take the lead.”

  “I’ll try to keep up,” Tess replied with a wry smile, even as adrenaline rushed through her at the prospect of their headlong sprint through the city. Dread curdled her excitement as she thought about the scene that would probably greet them at their destination – dead and dying fighters, caught unawares by Mab’s treacherous attack.

  “Let’s go,” Sage said firmly, his eyes alight with determination.

  Ariel hefted his shield and grinned as he stepped through the great doors. Tess took a deep breath, the Sword’s power still coursing through her bones. She didn’t try to wrangle it back into its usual restricted space behind her breastbone. She glanced at the doors as she trotted past, and the scene of Valkyrie reigning down vengeance from the heavens made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. She didn’t think that the doors had displayed that engraving the last time she’d seen them, but she couldn’t be sure, and she couldn’t spare the time to really think about it as Ariel pattered down the steps in front of her and Sage kept pace with her on her right.