Exiled Queen (The Thief's Talisman Book 3)

by Emma L. Adams

  “There’s no proof, unfortunately,” Cedar said. “The main Court doesn’t have any interest in the borderlands.”

  “Except when a half-blood kills a Sidhe. Never mind the madwoman looking to invade their Court.” I sighed.

  “Even if there was proof, they’re too set in their ways to reduce the punishment.” His mouth turned down at the corners. “Lady Hornbeam told me so herself. If I’d got caught stealing, the punishment would fall on my head, not hers.”

  “Evil woman,” I said. “You know, I’m not sure it’s worth the risk of replacing any talisman unless we know for sure she’s going to try to take it. If we get caught, it’s game over. And Summer is bound to be on guard.”

  “I was going to suggest going to your palace first, because you have the key,” Cedar said. “I see no harm in replacing the sword.”

  “I can’t touch it,” I said. “The magic inside it is still loyal to her, and it wouldn’t surprise me if she’d already found it.”

  Cedar reached inside the cupboard for one of the swords. “This one is close enough in appearance. I need to add the symbol…”

  Green light shone around the blade, rippling along its surface. The shape of a lightning bolt formed on the hilt, uncannily similar to the real thing.

  “Damn,” I said. “And I thought my transforming magic was badass enough.”

  “This is a simple cosmetic spell, hardly more than glamour.” He tossed the sword from one hand to the other. “I’ll get rid of the light…” The green tint died down, and the sword looked for all the world like it didn’t belong to a Court at all. The only thing missing was the sensation I got whenever I was in the same room as it, like something invisible and malevolent was watching me.

  “Nice party trick,” I murmured. “Seriously, Denzel’s fake amulets have got nothing on you. It’s amazing how often half-bloods fall for those, and most witch spells don’t even work for us.”

  “Well, if we ever end up stranded in the mortal realm…” He trailed off suggestively.

  A smile stirred. “Yeah, now we’ve actually met the head of the Mage Lords, I’m not so sure I want to piss him off. There are more than enough fake artefacts floating around as it is.”

  “Hmm.” He laid the sword down on top of the cabinet and turned back to me. “Speaking of transforming magic, you can change your appearance. A Sidhe would be able to see through glamour, but not your magic. Have you ever tried?”

  “No. I probably can do it, but it’s hard to get right, and you have to actually want to make the change. I don’t fancy turning myself into a troll and then not being able to turn back. Learning from scratch isn’t the same as intuitively knowing how to use magic my whole life.”

  “I know,” Cedar said, “but assuming we have to go into one of the Courts—we need a way in that doesn’t involve too much glamour.”

  “Hmm. Okay. Got a mirror?”

  He opened the wardrobe door in answer, revealing a mirror. I picked up a limp lock of hair. “Viola used magic to curl my hair once. Let’s see what I can do with this.”

  I kept an eye on my reflection as I directed magic into my hand. My hair darkened, and grew longer, thickening into curls like Viola’s.

  “That’s better than glamour.” He trailed a hand through my hair, and my skin prickled in response. “Can you change it back?”

  A flick of magic and my hair was straight and bone-white once again, almost silver in the glow left by my magic. Cedar stood behind me, his hand inches from my shoulder before it dropped to his side.

  “Want a go?” I asked, half teasing. Even when he’d had glamour on, I’d seen his real face underneath—angular like most half-bloods’, framed by dark curtains of hair which made his hazel eyes look deep brown until you looked closer. But it wasn’t his looks that made my body respond to his closeness, my heart swooping low as his hand brushed my shoulder.

  “I think I’ll stick with glamour.” He ran a hand over his face, catching the edge of his scar. It felt intrusive to ask why he’d never removed, transformed or glamoured it, when that sort of magic was so commonplace here, but I’d always wondered.

  He arched a brow, having seen me looking. “It’s her mark,” he said. “She wanted to mark me as her thief. So no matter what disguise I wore, she would know me as that. It can’t be removed.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  I found myself instinctively touching the crescent moon shape on my neck. My mother’s mark. We were both bound to the Sidhe, in blood if not by vows. Magic lit up my palm once again, and I willed it to disappear… but when I looked back at my reflection, the mark remained.

  “Guess I’m the same.” I swallowed, dropping my hand. Cedar caught it, covering the inches between us.

  His lips pressed against mine, giving me the chance to back away. I didn’t. My mouth parted at his prompting, and his hand cupped the back of my head, tangling in my hair. The buzz of his magic wrapped around me, sizzling between my skin and his like an electric current. Winter and Summer, coldness and warmth, complementing and challenging one another. His free hand circled my waist and pulled me tight against him. He murmured against my lips and released me. Both of us were breathing hard, flushed with tension. I’d expected a Summer faerie to feel warm, but not that my own body would react so intensely to a simple touch. Magic blossomed up and down my torso, bringing my skin out in white-hot tingles. Too intense, too much. If I touched him again, I’d ignite.

  I stepped back, out of range, my body aching in protest. Never mind that him touching me was nothing compared to the emotional barriers he’d knocked down already—I was on enemy territory as long as I remained in this realm, and we’d been played against one another more than once already. We’d won time, but not enough to waste.

  “We should go,” I whispered. “Before she reaches the palace. We need to get that sword away before she takes it back.”

  His throat bobbed, as though he’d swallowed down the words he meant to say, and he nodded.

  * * *

  Cedar and I crept through the woods, crossing the invisible boundary between Hornbeam territory and mine, assuming my mother hadn’t claimed it. I’d glamoured our clothes to hide our Court allegiances, however little it mattered now. I also carried the fake sword strapped to my waist.

  Sharp icy spikes formed a gate in front of the Whitefall palace, and an expanse of snow covered the vast gardens. The palace itself was a magnificent ice sculpture, but the inside looked more like a modern hotel from the mortal realm. I took the key from my pocket, which unlocked every door and window, inside or outside.

  “Better try the back way, in case she’s planned an ambush.” When Cedar had been captive here, he’d used magic to bend a tree to allow himself to escape through the back window, and it remained where he’d left it, drooping against the palace’s sheer, smooth side.

  “I don’t think you should go in alone,” he whispered.

  “She might have put up the security again. The palace’s magic works for her as well as me.” It wouldn’t attack me for that reason, but that didn’t mean it’d spare him. “Give me a shout if anything happens.”

  I considered the sheer wall. Her magic kept the palace standing, so I couldn’t transform the features of the building itself to make it easier to get in. Including the statues in the hall, which were actually living beings who’d presumably insulted her at some time or other. Thinking about it, maybe the reason I couldn’t undo the spell on them was because she was still alive. Which meant if she died, the palace would truly become mine.

  I reached for the tree branch and pulled myself up, the sword strapped to my waist. Cedar remained on guard, holding his crossbow. I reached the window and shoved the key into the lock, then hauled myself inside. Swiftly, I ran through the guest room out into the corridor. Time to find that damned sword and get the hell out of here.

  Conjuring magic to my hands, I opened a door into the entrance hall.

  On the other side of the door stood a femal
e faerie. Not my mother.

  “Raine,” my sister said. “Give me the real talisman.”

  Chapter 6

  June, my only surviving sibling, wore an expression as icy as the palace’s exterior. Her eyes were dark hazel but looked black next to the paleness of the palace décor, and the sheets of dark hair framing her angled cheekbones. “Surprised to see me again?”

  “Guess I should have known better than to expect her to show up in person,” I said. “The door’s that way. Get out.”

  “I think you’ll find this palace is mine.” She pulled out a sword. Its lightning bolt carved hilt shone in the palace’s bright light, which came from all around, including the crystal chandeliers above the polished floors.

  Of fucking course.

  I said, “She let you claim it? Or did you steal the sword yourself?”

  “I was gifted it. Unlike you.”

  “I followed the laws of succession according to the Courts. The sceptre chose me. I claimed it fair and square. Still bitter about it?”

  “You’re nothing more than an ignorant human girl.”

  “Keep telling yourself that.” Goading someone who wielded a weapon that had nearly killed me once already probably wasn’t a good move, but I had beaten her out over the sceptre. So why would the sword—which had rejected me—pick her? I’d already claimed one talisman, but perhaps there was more to claiming magic than I’d thought. Maybe it was only tangentially to do with strength or power, and more to do with personality. It figured that the sword which had nearly killed me when I’d touched it would choose to align with someone like her.

  Her eyes narrowed and her hand twitched on the sword hilt. Apparently my flippancy annoyed her. If she was working with my mother, maybe she really would kill me, unlike my brother. He’d been playing double agent for the sake of self-preservation. As far as I knew, she just wanted the power.

  “You’re welcome to the sword,” I told her. “But the palace is mine. I claimed it.”

  She pointed the blade at me. “It’s hers, and mine by extension. Leave.”

  “Oh, no.” I rested my hand on one of the sharp knives I’d grabbed from Cedar’s collection. “If you think I’ll let you use my palace as the gateway for her Grey Vale army to get into the borderlands, think again.”

  The door slammed shut behind me. “I think you’ll find this palace answers to me alone.”

  “Not if I have anything to do with it.”

  June swung the sword in a wild, untrained arc, which I easily dodged. Too bad she hadn’t practised waving a sword before trying to kill me with one. My own weapon was much shorter than hers, but it was sharp as hell, and she hadn’t thought to wear armoured clothes.

  I sidestepped her clumsy strike smoothly and retaliated. My own blade drew blood first, slicing open her wrist, but as it wasn’t iron, it didn’t have the effect it might have. She swung the blade again and a horrible coldness brushed against me, chilling my bones. I did my best to ignore it, moving swiftly, dodging her strikes. Blood sprayed from small cuts to her thighs and arms as I caught her, repeatedly, backing her into a corner.

  Her sword cut the air with a menacing whistling noise, and coldness wrapped around me like an icy cloak, slowing my movements. I shouldn’t be able to feel the cold. A keening sound like a high voice laughing or screaming cut the air along with the blade. I stumbled back, my fast speed slowing as the icy feeling spread through my limbs. What the hell was her talisman doing—freezing the blood inside my veins?

  You traitorous piece of shit.

  I stepped back out of range, my hands numbing on the knife hilt. I had her beaten skill-wise, but as long as the talisman’s freezing effect was in place, my speed advantage was gone. But though the palace might be immune to my magic, the air wasn’t.

  I raised my free hand and blasted the air with magic, which froze into dagger-like shapes. She danced out of the way, lip curled in hatred. Icy shards brushed past her on either side, but she didn’t drop the sword. The blade sheared the air, and I barely blocked it with my dagger’s side. She didn’t move that fast before.

  Ice burned my hands, and the two pieces of the broken knife slid from my grip. I stepped back, grabbing for my backup weapon. My movements were sluggish, too clumsy. It’s the sword’s magic. It wanted her to win, and me to die.

  Blue light surged up my arms, and ice shot from my fingertips, wrapping itself around her ankles. The sword made a hissing noise, cutting through the air and narrowly missing my chest. June shrieked in fury as my icy spell bound her legs together. Quickly, I used the same spell on her arm. When the air froze, she remained stuck in position, her hand frozen mid-motion, the sword hanging from her fingertips.

  Her eyes narrowed in fury. “You cheated.”

  “Speak for yourself.” My gaze flicked down her body. Only her head was free of the spell. “Get out of the palace. It’s mine.”

  “I won’t,” she said, her voice echoing off the high ceiling. “It’s more than my life’s worth to leave here.”

  “Should have thought of that before you sided with her.”

  “I didn’t pick the losing team. You’re going to die, you foolish little mortal.”

  “Ouch.” I put a hand over my heart. “I don’t know how I’ll ever fight back now you’ve wounded me so deeply.”

  In another life, I might have seen us arguing with one another like normal siblings. But Faerie didn’t allow that life, and had taken it away before I’d ever known it might be a possibility.

  I darted forwards and hit her over the back of the head with my dagger’s hilt. Her legs gave way, and from the panic in her gaze, she didn’t have healing magic. I’d cut her dozens of times with my icy magic while dodging her hits, and blood soaked through her trousers. Not mortal wounds, but painful enough to hobble her progress. It’d be easy to finish her off, but doubtless my mother had wanted us to fight to the death. Just like my brother and I had. He’d given his life to ensure my freedom.

  You get one chance, sister.

  I looked down at her. “Have you ever seen the dungeons? Allow me to introduce you.”

  The trapdoor sprang open at my command, directly underneath her. She fell down the stone steps, her body still bound in ice.

  A shout came from outside. Cedar. Closing the trapdoor on her, I ran to the front doors, pushing them open. A decapitated troll lay sprawled in the snow. Skirting around it, I followed the sound of a wounded shriek several feet away. Viciously sharp plants with blade-like leaves protruded from the ground, while the nearest trees had been literally uprooted, goblins impaled on their roots.

  Cedar was locked in battle with a long-limbed tree faerie and three redcaps. While the tree faerie attempted to gouge his eyes out with deep stabs, he dodged smoothly. I ran up to help, and the ground cracked open, underneath the tree’s feet. The tree-beast shrieked as its own hands wrapped around its neck. A second later, the tree went limp. It’d strangled itself thanks to Cedar’s Summer magic. I ran up and killed one redcap, and the other two disappeared shrieking into the bushes.

  “Whoa.” I looked at the dead tree faerie. “Did you dig up my entire garden?”

  “My apologies. I can clear it.”

  He waved a hand, and green light flared from his hands to the ground. The sharp roots and the creatures impaled on them were drawn into the earth. Not so much as a bloodstain remained.

  “They disarmed me,” he explained. “I had to work with what I had left. What happened in there?”

  “My sister.” I grimaced. “She won the sword and seemed to think the palace was hers. That talisman is a piece of shit. Luckily, nobody taught her how to fight with a sword.”

  “Is she dead?”

  “Nope. Injured. She’s under a vow to capture me, so it’s not like I’m in a position to reason with her. But I can question her for details of my mother’s plans.”

  “Leaving her here might not be wise,” Cedar said.

  “Not like we have much choice.” I scanned
the grounds, making sure no new enemies watched us, and walked back into the entrance hall.

  With Cedar behind me, I opened the trapdoor again. June lay sprawled halfway downstairs. Her grip on the sword had slackened, and I kicked it away from her before lifting her limp form over my shoulder. The light of a hundred small faeries lit the way into the unappealing dark rooms where my mother had kept people—humans—locked in misery and despair. The dungeon brought goosebumps out on my skin, like the wind blowing from nowhere carried the echo of the prisoners’ screams, and the damp floor smelled of old blood and misery.

  “She was chosen by the sword?” asked Cedar in a whisper.

  “Yeah. I have a feeling my mother must have had a hand in it. That’s why I kept her alive and didn’t try to claim it.”

  However little I cared for the Courts, I knew what wielding that sword would do to me—assuming it didn’t kill me first. If I followed my murderous instincts, gave into the whispering temptation to claim every talisman and kill the ones who wielded them, I’d end up next to my mother, doomed to die in the Vale.

  I put June down inside one of the cells. Her legs continued to bleed, but the wounds wouldn’t be fatal. The cell door swung shut behind her, and my trusty key locked her inside. She curled up and moaned, cringing away from the iron bars of the door.

  Cedar’s gaze went to the sword, which lay gleaming on the damp stone floor.

  “I wouldn’t pick it up,” I said quietly. “It’s plain evil. I’m guessing my mother brought it from the Vale, like the sceptre.”

  “Are you sure about leaving her here?” he responded.

  “Absolutely. She and Horace the spider can be friends.”

  Cedar walked up next to me, as June began to stir again. Her eyelids flickered, and her gaze focused on the ice encasing her feet. The spell wasn’t permanent, but the iron bars would be enough of a deterrent if she decided to make a run for it.