Exiled Queen (The Thief's Talisman Book 3)

by Emma L. Adams

  “Right,” I said, resigned. “Did they see anything else? Or—have you been called out on any other faerie-related cases lately?”

  “No. Client info is confidential, besides.”

  “Nothing involving hypnosis?”

  “Hypnosis?” He snorted. “What crap are you into? That’d be Ivy Lane’s area. Ask her stupid little agency.”

  And he hung up.

  Cedar yawned and sat up. “Who was that?”

  I scowled at the phone. “Mercenary. Or drunkard. Whoever he is, apparently my dad covered his tracks well. Or the person who captured him did.”

  Cedar swung his feet over the sofa’s side, running a hand through his silky dark hair. “I don’t suppose you have any spare clothes?” he asked. “These are covered in blood.”

  He indicated his shirt, which was torn to ribbons. Of course—we’d fought a war yesterday. It already seemed a million years ago.

  “I can use magic,” I said. “Any preferences?”

  “A similar outfit will do. I can glamour it.”

  My hands glowed blue as I directed my magic at his clothes, and a fresh outfit replaced the bloodstained one. I did the same to the ragged shorts and T-shirt I’d slept in. There was no point in dressing as a human now. I was all faerie or nothing, as Robin had once said. He might be a deceiving liar, but he’d been right about one thing: when you set foot in Faerie, it never truly left you.

  Cedar eyed my armoured coat. “That ability of yours is certainly useful.”

  “Yeah, it’s helpful when you’re a fugitive,” I said. “I’m going to question the neighbours about Dad. Someone must have seen him leave.” Of course, considering we lived in a mostly-human area, nobody except me could see through glamour. I had to start somewhere, though.

  “Do you need me to come with you?”

  I shook my head. “Better not. They already think I’m going to hex them.”

  I walked to the door, then hesitated. Maybe I should have dressed as a human after all. But I didn’t have the patience to put on an act for the people who’d probably be indifferent at best to Dad’s disappearance.

  Putting on my coldest Sidhe expression, I opened the door and nearly tripped over a pair of hooved feet.

  “Raine.” Denzel looked at me in astonishment, as though I’d wandered into his house, not the other way around. We hadn’t spoken since an argument shortly after I’d been named as heir to the Whitefall family, when he’d been offended that I no longer wanted to spend time around thieves. We’d parted on the mutual understanding that if we stayed friends, he’d probably end up trying to steal my talisman at some point, which wouldn’t end well for him.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked. “I don’t suppose you’ve seen my father?”

  “Actually—yeah, I did,” Denzel said. “He went into half-blood territory two days ago. Why?”

  “What the hell was he doing over there?” Denzel stumbled back a few steps at my tone, fear flashing in his eyes. “Is that what you came here to tell me?”

  “No. Never mind.” He attempted to clip-clop away, but I reached and grabbed his coat, pulling him onto the doorstep. His arms flailed feebly for a second, then he looked at me in meek resignation. “I don’t know, okay? You were off playing faerie queen, and I assumed he was supposed to be on half-blood territory. He didn’t look lost.”

  I swore. “Is there nothing else you can tell me? I put him under twenty-four-hour guard and some faerie spell must have got through to him anyway.”

  “Uh, it didn’t look that way to me.” Denzel managed to pull his coat out of reach as the door opened behind me, and Cedar poked his head out. “You’ll have to ask someone else. I don’t know why he was there, honest.”

  He hobbled away then broke into a gallop, his hooves pounding against the pavement. I didn’t bother to follow him. “Dad went to half-blood territory? I need to tell Ivy.”

  “Who was he?” asked Cedar. “Another thief?”

  “Yep. One of my former light-fingered acquaintances.” I went back into the flat, and put the kettle on, just for something to do.

  Cedar hovered behind me. “That thing heats water up?”

  “Yeah. Don’t you—right, Faerie has magic as a substitute.” Being here must be weird for him, even if he’d been walking between the two worlds for years. “I’m going to make breakfast, and hopefully Ivy won’t take too long.”

  I poured dry cereal into two bowls, since the bread had long since expired. Dad had been gone for longer than a day. Of course, thanks to Faerie and its time inconsistencies, for him, it’d been weeks since we’d seen one another. If I hadn’t put Faerie before him, he might have been spared—but stopping Lady Whitefall’s quest for domination had to come first, at whatever cost. If I’d left her to her own devices, we’d be a hell of a lot worse off.

  Cedar broke the silence by saying, “When was your father on half-blood territory?”

  I ate a few mouthfuls of dry cereal. “Two days ago. Probably too late for Ivy’s tracking spell to find him.”

  “How exactly does this spell work?” he said.

  “No clue. Tracking spells are witch spells, so if he’s in Faerie, it won’t work either.” I put my half-empty cereal bowl aside.

  “So he left of his own volition?” asked Cedar.

  “Even if he did, this is Faerie we’re talking about.” I groaned. “If the Seelie Court come here, their first stop will be half-blood territory. But I need to know if anyone there has seen him.”

  “Then I’ll go,” said Cedar. “I can use glamour to hide myself.”

  I frowned at him. “It’d have to be a damn good one to fool them.”

  “I haven’t need to use a full glamour for a while,” Cedar said. “But I’m told it’s convincing.”

  The air shimmered around him. My eyes picked out two images, superimposed on top of one another—at the bottom, the real Cedar, and on top, a blond half-faerie wearing torn jeans and a white T-shirt. Humans, and most faeries without strong magic, would see only the top image, and Cedar himself would remain hidden—unless he ran into someone who could see through powerful glamour. Which covered most Sidhe, but they weren’t here. I hope. Even if they were, as long as he didn’t draw attention, he’d be able to get away with it. I was the one with a price on my head.

  The instant the door closed behind him, I regretted not following. I paced the room, fidgeted, skimmed through my contacts on my phone and finally sank onto the sofa, exhaustion from yesterday lying heavily on my eyelids. Now I finally had the chance to break down, I didn’t have the energy for it. Cedar’s scent lingered, and wrapped around me like a comforting blanket. My eyes closed, and I drifted off.

  I woke to a hideous growling noise from outside. Grabbing my knife, I made for the door, easing it open in case an ambush waited.

  Outside the front door, Cedar circled a beast the size of a wild boar. A second hellhound nipped at his ankles. He couldn’t fight one without taking his attention off the other, though he did his best to engage both of them at once. He’d dropped his glamour and pulled out a knife from somewhere—not iron, but a faerie-made one.

  “Hey!” I yelled at the monster, giving Cedar the chance to lunge forwards. His blade sank into its neck, blood sprayed, and its heavy body slumped onto the pavement.

  Blue light shone around its corpse and the second hellhound grew, expanding to fill half the road. I’d forgotten they fed on death energy, like some other Grey Vale beasts. Wishing I’d grabbed a weapon, I backed up to the doorstep.

  Before the beast could move, a sword came down, severing its head. Ivy Lane stepped aside, letting the second hellhound fall, her sword dripping blue-tinged blood. Glyphs flashed up and down its hilt, and its ancient, restrained power made the air tremble. Ivy had moved faster than I’d ever seen a human, lit up in the sheen of blue faerie magic usually afforded to Winter half-bloods only.

  “So much for not bothering the neighbours,” I said, unable to take my eyes off the sh
immering glyphs on her talisman. The thief part of me wanted a closer look, but I pushed the covetous impulse down. Ivy had killed several Sidhe, and for all I knew, she was even more powerful than Lady Whitefall.

  “Hellhounds,” said Ivy, shaking droplets of blood from her sword. “I haven’t seen one of those for a while.”

  “My magic didn’t work on it,” I said. “Don’t suppose you know why?”

  “They’re powerful Unseelie beasts, so they’re immune to a lot of Winter magic,” said Ivy.

  “That explains it.” I turned to Cedar. “Did you make it to half-blood territory?”

  “I did,” Cedar said. “There have been a couple of other Vale attacks there, but nobody saw your father. I didn’t see the Sidhe, either.”

  “Neither did I,” said Ivy. “I should probably let Vance—the Mage Lord—know about the hellhounds. But I was on my way to update you. The tracking spell did take me to half-blood territory—to the forest. I spoke to the Hemlock witch coven. They know more about Faerie than most other supernaturals in this realm.”

  “If they live in the forest, they must know the Little Person of Hemlock Way,” said Cedar.

  “You know the witches?” Ivy raised an eyebrow at him.

  “No, but I’m told they don’t like the Sidhe,” said Cedar.

  “The Sidhe tried to burn their forest down… several times.” Ivy turned to face me. “The witches claim to know about your father. People who’ve fallen victim to the Sidhe have sometimes taken shelter in their forest, so I reckon they’re telling the truth. The Mage Lords can vouch for them, as can the other witch covens, for what it’s worth.”

  Damn, Dad. What have you got mixed up in?

  “And Lady Whitefall?” asked Cedar. “Have you heard anything more of her?”

  “I asked in a few of the half-blood communities, but nobody was talking.” Ivy smiled wryly. “I’m not the most trusted individual amongst the fae-kind. But it doesn’t look like any Sidhe have been in this realm recently.”

  “Not the Summer messengers?” I asked. “Are you sure?”

  Ivy shook her head. “Did you throw them off your tail?”

  “Oh,” said Cedar suddenly. “I think they might have thought we fled to the Grey Vale. They didn’t see where we disappeared to when we left Faerie. They might think we’ve joined the exiles.”

  I couldn’t help feeling insulted. “As if. They must really hate me. If they leave us alone in this realm, though, it’ll help. They should be focused on protecting their own Court instead, seeing as Lady Whitefall will probably target it at some point.”

  I imagined she’d go for Winter first, but who knew how her mind worked. Maybe she’d go back to the palace. I hoped not, because it was Viola’s home, and she was bound to our entire family. But the palace was Lady Whitefall’s too, technically, because her magic kept it standing even if the keys had passed onto me. Hopefully Viola would have found somewhere else to go. She’d stick with Rose, who at least wasn’t chained to the Hornbeam Family now its leader was dead. Unless Aspen had taken over. He hadn’t seemed too interested in conquering the borderlands the last time I’d seen him, but I wished I had one ally I could trust enough to make sure my friends were safe.

  Right. We’re going to see the witches, and then we’ll get the Little Person of Hemlock Way to get us back into Faerie.

  “I wish I could help,” Ivy said. “I’m supposed to be an ambassador between here and Faerie, but I can’t walk into their realm without an invitation and an extremely good reason. I’d say the end of the world was a good reason, but they take bloody forever coming to an agreement on anything.”

  “I figured,” I said. “Are you absolutely sure the witches can help?”

  “They don’t invite just anyone into the forest. Their territory might be close to the half-bloods, but their hatred for the exiled Sidhe knows no bounds. They won’t harm you, though. Their forest’s magic’s pretty good at picking up on threats.”

  “They’re human?” I asked.

  “If you stretch the definition a little,” said Ivy. “The forest is pretty straightforward, if you’ve been there before, but it has a tendency to throw you off the path and trick you. Kind of like Faerie, I guess.”

  Great. Like the real thing wasn’t bad enough.

  “Their territory must overlap with my—with the Hornbeam family’s,” said Cedar. “The Little Person uses a small liminal space to travel to Faerie from there. He’s helped me escape danger a few times when Lady Hornbeam sent me to the mortal realm on quests.”

  “And saved me when I got attacked by a hellhound,” I added, glancing at the dead bodies of the fallen hellhounds in the road. “We should get rid of these.”

  “Not a problem.” Ivy smiled. It was singularly the most disturbingly devious smile I’d ever seen on a human. “Let’s say the local mercenaries and I have an understanding of sorts. It’ll be gone in half an hour.”

  Cedar and I exchanged perplexed looks, but Ivy didn’t offer an explanation. I hoped we could trust her word about the Hemlock witches. Allies were in short supply, and I suspected that when the Sidhe came searching for me, even the witches’ forest wouldn’t be safe from their wrath.

  Chapter 3

  “Nice.” I looked ahead at the path to the witches’ forest, which wound away into shadows, then back at Cedar. “Are you sure this place belongs to the witches? Because it looks like they took decorating tips from the Unseelie Court.”

  Last time I’d been here, Cedar and I had fled a half-blood gathering into the woods in search of passage back to Faerie. Its creeping expanse was made up of dark paths, tangled undergrowth, and sinister noises belonging to wild fae from both Courts. The shrill voices of piskies mingled with the growls of wild hobgoblins and the rustle of dryads’ tree branches.

  “Ivy did mention the forest contains a high concentration of magic,” Cedar said in answer. “Makes sense, considering its proximity to half-blood territory.”

  “Yeah, it’s got to be on the spirit paths.” I dug my hands in my pockets, feeling the comforting shape of the knife I’d grabbed before coming here. “I doubt I can find the way back out if the forest changes like Faerie, though. Don’t suppose you have any breadcrumbs?”

  “I can mark the path.” Cedar’s hands glowed bright green, and a bramble unfurled itself, sprouting bright neon green flowers and wrapping around the nearest tree. He stepped forwards, and the bramble moved, too, following our path.

  “Nice trick,” I said.

  Hardly a noise disturbed the silence, but Cedar and I remained on our guard. The path was barely visible, criss-crossed by thick tree roots and other obstacles. Not much in the way of fae beasts—just a handful of stray will o’the wisps trying to lure us off the path, a nest of hobgoblins, and a few nixies swimming in a pond who waved at us to join them. The trees were ancient and gnarled, forming cage-like barriers around us and forcing us to follow their path. Cedar tried to use magic once, but shook his head when the tree didn’t move to follow his lead. A soft, menacing power hummed through the boughs and the whispering silence. Not faerie magic, but just as ancient.

  Light-coloured threads began to appear and stretch between the tree branches, which converged into an arch-like shape overhead. They looked a lot like—

  I stopped walking. “Spider webs. You have got to be kidding me.”

  Cedar stopped to examine the threads of light. “I don’t think they’re spider webs.”

  Green light shone from the thin interweaving patterns. I bloody hoped they didn’t come from a giant luminous arachnid, but it’d just be my luck if they did.

  “I think it’s writing,” said Cedar, drawing back. “Not faerie magic, but some sort of spell.”

  “Huh.” I scanned the webs, keeping at a distance. The lines did look like squashed symbols of text, but spider webs were intricate enough in themselves. They were too bloody smart. That’s why I didn’t trust the buggers.

  We resumed walking. The webbed patterns c
ontinued for a while, then stopped. So did I. I hadn’t noticed they were the only source of light until the faint green glow disappeared, leaving nothing but thick trees blocking out the sun.

  “Damn,” I said quietly. “Does this mean the witches are nearby?”

  “I don’t know,” Cedar said. “I sense magic, but not like ours.”

  I didn’t know a huge amount about how the mortal realm’s own magic worked, but I did know this forest hadn’t existed in its current form before the faeries had come. Our magic warped nature and caused it to grow wild. But it wasn’t our magic that ruled this place.

  “This better not be a trap,” I muttered.

  “Might Ivy have tried to trick us?” asked Cedar.

  “She’d have no reason to.” I knew his trust issues, like mine, stemmed from being screwed over by too many people, though I was trying to give Ivy the benefit of the doubt. I was more inclined to think the witches, or some kind of fae, were the ones messing with us. “Besides, if she wanted to bump us off, she’d have skewered either of us with that talisman of hers. She’s on a level with a Sidhe. Easily.”

  A growl came from behind us. I spun around, magic springing to my palms, as true darkness folded over me like a curtain.

  “Cedar?” I called into the dark.

  Silence answered. I held up my glowing hands, but magic didn’t illuminate the gloom. Like a force had sucked all life out of the world. A chill danced down my spine. Either Cedar had vanished, or the forest’s magic had tricked both of us. Even the way back was masked in shadows. I stepped carefully over a tree root, feeling my way along the non-existent path. All my light-footed thief instincts had disappeared. My other senses weren’t terrible—most half-bloods’ sense of smell and hearing were sharper than humans’—but the witches’ magic had masked all sound and scent, too. There might have been a chimera sitting in front of me and I wouldn’t know it.

  It’s an illusion.

  No shit, Raine. Didn’t mean I knew how to switch it off. My Sight didn’t work on non-faerie magic, unless I found the person responsible for the spell.