Exiled Queen (The Thief's Talisman Book 3)

by Emma L. Adams

  “Daughter,” she said. “I’m terribly sorry about this, but your lover here still belongs to me. The stunt he pulled doesn’t erase the vow he swore to serve me.” Her gaze passed to Cedar, and a smile curled her lip.

  Cedar didn’t move, didn’t contradict her words. How had I managed to overlook the obvious? I’d given up my magic. Cedar hadn’t. And now…

  “Kill Raine Whitefall,” she said to him.

  Cedar didn’t move. I prepared to call on magic to defend myself, but Cedar merely smiled.

  He’s not under her control? But nothing could undo a vow. Nothing except…

  Losing her magic.

  “What?” she said, eyes narrowing.

  “I’m not beholden to you,” Cedar said. “Our vow has gone. I’m surprised you didn’t notice.”

  “You’re lying,” she said. “I let you keep your magic.”

  “But you gave up yours.”

  I knew it. She’d taken in the Morrigan’s power, and it must have erased her own. Including vows… and including the hypnosis.

  Hey, I thought, trying to catch the god’s eye. Fight her.

  It didn’t move. I wasn’t sure it could actually read my thoughts—the talisman and I went more by feeling than anything else—but maybe it wanted to fight at her side. Against the Courts. She’d freed it, after all. But if her magic didn’t hold it… her grip on the creature was less secure than she’d thought.

  That’s what happened when you had the hubris to take power from a god. The Morrigan must have known. I almost wanted to run back to the Death Kingdom and hug the evil old bird.

  “You’re lying, mortal,” said Lady Whitefall. “I have more power than the Courts.”

  Branches snapped as she raised her hands, raw fury pouring off her. Her white hair streamed behind her, and the trees bent and swayed. My legs locked into place under a torrent of fear—and the spell broke when June swung a knife at her from behind.

  The blow should have struck. Instead, power exploded from my mother’s hands in a shower of darkness, and June collapsed, unmoving.

  “You’re next, Raine,” she screamed.

  I raised the sceptre, called on its magic, and pushed it at her. My magic bounced off an invisible shield. Damn, the Morrigan’s magic was strong. She was a shield all on her own, surrounded by a rippling current of energy similar to the god-creature’s.

  The beast no longer stood at her side.

  Oh hell.

  Darkness shifted beside Cedar and me, forcing us back. The god-creature appeared in a wave of shadow, teeth snapping. It wasn’t quite solid, but definitely wasn’t a ghost either. Or a wraith. I danced out of the way of its bite, one eye on my mother, who was still shielding. Attacking both of them at once was impossible, and my hypnosis had apparently had no effect on the creature. From the way its bites targeted me and not Cedar, I’d probably just pissed it off.

  I swung the sceptre through the air, calling my own god’s magic, and icy energy whipped from my hands, smashing into the god-creature. On sheer brute strength, it had me outmatched, and while I was forced to keep shielding, dodging its attacks, it was impossible to get another hit in with the hypnosis. Lady Whitefall raised her hands, and another dark current of energy slammed into Cedar and me.

  His healing magic slowed my fall, and I rolled out of the god-creature’s way again. Dark intelligence and wrath shone from its eyes, and its teeth snapped, nearly snatching the sceptre from my hands.

  Oh. It wasn’t me the creature was mad at. It was the god—or what was left of it.

  I rolled to my feet, yelling at Cedar—“Hold her off! I’ve got this.”

  If my plan didn’t work, I was dead. Backing away from the god-creature, I flung the talisman aside.

  Its path diverted, teeth snapping at the bushes where I’d thrown it. Drawing on all the hypnotic magic I could, I blasted it full in the face. Its dark eyes momentarily blanked, then their intelligence—and anger—came roaring back. It wasn’t enough. Whatever dark power had brought it here, the being was too much for this realm.

  Wait. It’d been my magic which had brought it here—mine, in the conduit, in conjunction with Cedar’s.

  I backed away, continuing to blast the creature with magic, until I reached Cedar’s side again. Lady Whitefall and he were locked in a stalemate, shield crushing against shield. Taking the Morrigan’s magic had also robbed her of her natural magic, and it didn’t appear to be made for direct combat. We wouldn’t have a better chance than now.

  I caught Cedar’s gaze, and pushed the slightest hint of the sceptre’s magic into his hands.

  His hands glowed green. Blue light shone from my own. And our magic dispersed as my mother’s death-magic lifted me off my feet. She snarled, mouth twisted, face warping, more like the Morrigan than my mother. But of course—she’d pretty much signed over her soul to become a death faerie, and essentially turned into a second death goddess.

  The Sidhe had successfully trapped the Morrigan once already.

  Our magic pushed against her, forming a net—frozen pieces of ice mingling with the shield Cedar created. Even the god staggered back, its eyes clearing.

  I pushed my magic towards Cedar, and let go.

  Magic burned from his hands, both Summer and Winter. At the same time, I used my other power and shoved every ounce of hypnotic magic possible in the creature’s face.

  “Go home,” I roared. “Get back into the hellish place you came from, and take her with you.”

  My mother screamed. The god-creature leaped at her, and its shimmering darkness engulfed the pair of them. The darkness shifted, becoming a shadowy hole in the world. My mind spun as it struggled to comprehend what I looked at—a realm not Earth or Faerie or even Death, but some kind of hellish between place, darker than the Vale.

  My mother’s hands latched onto the edge of the dark pit. “No!” She screamed, pulling herself half out into the forest. Her eyes met mine, dark where they’d been blue before. Pleading. “Daughter,” she gasped.

  “Let that magic go,” I told her, “or die.”

  She did. Magic spiralled from her in thick black tendrils, drawn into the pit. Her eyes paled to blue once again, and the hole closed around her as her hand let go—

  And I grabbed it, pulling her free in one wrenching tug. The darkness blinked out, and was gone.

  I laid her down on the forest floor, my whole body trembling.

  “You know,” I said, “a simpler way to live forever would have been to stay in the palace and not open secret doors to the Grey Vale. Just saying.”

  Nessa Whitefall didn’t answer. She appeared to be unconscious.

  “Raine.” Cedar crouched down next to me. “We need to get her out of here. To the Unseelie Court.”

  “That was my next plan, once I got my breath back.” I pushed to my feet, and ran to the bushes to retrieve the sceptre. “The dungeons will hold her until then.”

  The moment I put my hands on her shoulders, a current of magic shot through me, almost like the grip of a vow. I opened my mouth to shout a warning, and my breath was snatched away, my senses flaring up. What in the world—?

  Tremors racked my body, but Cedar stumbled, too, and the whole earth shook as though under the force of an earthquake. Ahead, the Whitefall palace trembled. The doors flew wide, and power washed through me, reaching the foundations of the earth. I felt it, every inch of it, and knew I could control and reshape it to my will. Lady Whitefall must have had some magic left after all. And now it’s mine.

  I lifted my mother’s limp body and moved almost without thinking first, warping the world around me the way the Sidhe did. I landed in the dungeon, throwing Lady Whitefall into one of the cages, and disappeared a heartbeat later.

  I didn’t need to open a door, not when I could extend my magic to anywhere in the palace. I found her suite, the wardrobe still open, and willed it to collapse into nothingness. The corridor winked out of existence in a heartbeat, and the door to the Vale along with it.
I yanked the power back into myself, and brushed against something conscious. In the entrance hall. Aha.

  Her magic unravelled around the statues held captive for who knew how many years, and I pulled it away from them, willing them to wake up.

  “I am your new queen,” I told them. “You’re free now, but there are some who wish to take this territory from you. If you want to stay here in Winter, you’ll have to chase them off.”

  They woke. Hobgoblins and trolls, fae and half-bloods, even some pure faeries. With war cries, they ran from the palace, screaming for blood.

  As for me… I willed myself to reappear beside Cedar, on the battlefield where Lady Whitefall had fallen. The palace’s magic trembled through my body, and all around, the sounds of fighting raged on. The freed creatures ran, tearing into any remainders of Lady Whitefall’s army. They were merciless, and furious, and their combined strength ripped through the Vale’s forces. The trembling stopped as the palace came to a halt, and so did I.

  I turned to Cedar. “Looks like I just inherited a court.”

  Chapter 25

  Unsurprisingly, things weren’t that simple. For one thing, the court in question had been happy to take my orders in battle, but afterwards was a different story. Half of them had wandered off by the time Cedar and I had searched the forest and confirmed that Viola, Rose and the others were okay. After all, they’d sworn no vow of loyalty to me, and considering they’d been stuck in the palace for so long, I didn’t blame them for taking off.

  Once the injured had been returned to the Hornbeams’ territory and everyone accounted for, I left for the Unseelie Court. Lord Lyle’s army had vanished once the battle was done, having fulfilled their end of our bargain. Cedar had disappeared, too, and I hadn’t been able to find him, so I figured I’d send a message to the Unseelie Queen that the former Lady Whitefall was currently detained in her old palace, magic-less and awaiting a trial.

  As I reached the path connecting Summer and Winter territories, Cedar walked along the path from the Seelie territory to join me.

  “Hey,” I said, somewhat surprised. “Where have you been?”

  “Replacing Summer’s security talisman.”

  “Oops. I never thought of that,” I said. “Did they assume Lady Whitefall stole it?”

  “Ivy distracted them by asking for a lift back to the mortal realm,” Cedar said. “I think they’re a little preoccupied.”

  “No kidding.” I stopped walking, and hugged him properly for the first time since the battle. “Thank you. For everything. No thanks for scaring the shit out of me and scheming behind my back.”

  He rested his forehead against mine. “I couldn’t think of anything else to do. Is she still in the dungeon?”

  “Yeah. I was on my way to tell the Unseelie Court to pick her up,” I said. “They might kill her, but letting her live without magic is worse.”

  “The Morrigan knew,” Cedar said. “I’m sure she did. She agreed to loan out a piece of her magic knowing it’d obliterate her other powers.”

  “Yep,” I said. “The Morrigan makes the Sidhe look like amateurs at their own games. Anyway, I’m leaving her fate up to the Courts.”

  “And if they exile her?”

  I shook my head. “She has allies in the Vale. They have more sense.”

  Cedar looked at me. “Considering their history, you might be giving them too much credit.”

  “You have a point,” I said. “But don’t worry. I’m going to her trial in person to advise them, in case Lord Lyle forgets what we did for him.”

  “Good,” he said. “And then?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know. Claim a court… or not. I’m not keen on the whole ruling thing.”

  “You got a round of applause from the Hornbeam army.”

  “So did you.” There was no question he’d take leadership, but now I was unquestioningly Lady Whitefall, did that make us rivals? The borderlands didn’t follow the same cut-throat rules as before, but we still belonged to opposing Courts. And there was one slight issue. “Cedar… I guessed that our magic was compatible—more than the usual—and I didn’t tell you. I knew she was looking for you, and that you’d give yourself up to her if it meant I’d go free, and I didn’t dare risk it. I should have known she’d have figured it out anyway. It might have cost us the battle.”

  He looked at me, a flash of green appearing in his eyes. “I proved you right, didn’t I?”

  “I guess, but I’d have done the same.” A moment passed. “Does that mean you forgive me?”

  “Of course it does,” said Cedar. “I knew there was something different about our magic the first time we used it in conjunction.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I don’t get,” I said. “The sceptre was from the Grey Vale, and its magic doesn’t even belong to the Courts. Yours does.”

  “It might not,” he said. “The magic I used isn’t the sort I was born with. Lady Hornbeam gave me the magic herself. Directly from a talisman.”

  “What? Seriously?”

  “She was paranoid someone was going to steal it, so she chose to give it to someone nobody would suspect of wielding powerful magic,” he explained. “I didn’t realise the magic must have come from a talisman—honestly, the thought didn’t cross my mind until recently. Thanks to the iron she made me carry, I didn’t figure out my magic was different for a long time. I think the gods’ magic isn’t all that different from the Sidhe’s, when it comes down to it.”

  “Damn.” I shook my head. “You have no end of surprises, Cedar Hornbeam. Or should that be Lord?”

  “I’ll consider it,” he said. “It’s only fair to ask my people first. I was taught only to serve, not rule. I’m a thief, not a soldier.”

  “And I’m a thief and a noble. You can be both. You’ve accepted leadership in every way short of taking the title.”

  “And a talisman,” he added.

  “You do have one. Besides, who’s saying we have to stick to the Sidhe’s rules? Not me.” I leaned in and kissed him, thoroughly.

  “Remind me to ask for your advice more often,” he murmured against my neck.

  I grinned. “You’re welcome.”

  * * *

  Dad showed up at the Hornbeam family’s palace on the second day after the battle, dressed in the finery of the Summer Court. I almost didn’t recognise him in resplendent green and gold, a crown of thorns on his head, when the guards at the gate parted to allow him inside.

  “Hi, Dad.” It felt weird calling him that, when we were almost strangers, though maybe less so since we’d spoken in the meadow. “Is the Summer Court treating you well?”

  I’ll bet they want me to see them. I’d been expecting as much, considering reports of how I’d defeated Lady Whitefall would have reached Summer by now, but I hadn’t expected them to let him come near me.

  “They’ve asked me to invite you to attend a Gathering tonight,” he said. “At the house of a noble of the Seelie Court.”

  “What?” I blinked at him. “If they want me dead, there are more subtle ways of going about it.”

  “They don’t want you dead,” Dad told me. “The offer extends to your court—and the Hornbeams’, if you wish.”

  “I don’t think so.” I frowned. “Even if you ignore the fact that I duped them, they don’t like half-bloods. You know that.”

  “You saved Faerie,” he said. “They know.”

  “So what? The Sidhe are the definition of ungrateful. And the first time I attended a Gathering of the borderland families, someone tried to shoot me to death.”

  “That won’t happen,” Dad said. “They’re extending an offer of peace, both to you and the borderlands, for aiding them in the fight against Lady Whitefall.”

  “They do know I’m not even from Summer, don’t they?”

  “You have their blood. I’d hazard a guess that they may wish to take advantage and win your loyalty over the Unseelie Court, but they are prepared to swear not to harm you. Unlike the borderland
Sidhe, they don’t make a habit of murdering one another. I think this is the best way to ensure peace, and clean up any former misunderstandings.”

  “They’ll hate me,” I said. “For what I did.”

  “Some might,” he admitted. “Others would admire you. The new Lord Hornbeam is also invited, and the Seelie Court would like to welcome the Hornbeams amongst their allies again.”

  Pretty words, and most likely lies. But being allowed to see Dad again, and walk freely in Faerie without fearing retribution from the Sidhe of Summer… it tempted me, however unlikely it might be. “I’ll see,” I said. “But are you really staying there? In Summer?”

  A wistful look entered his eyes. “I don’t think the mortal realm will have me back.”

  “I know that feeling, but… you lived there longer than I did.” I couldn’t think of him as belonging to the Seelie Court. I wasn’t sure he did, either. The double memories must be confusing. Technically, we could go into the mortal realm now the rifts were re-opened, but I had nothing more to do there. My friends were here.

  “We have time enough to think about it, Raine,” he said. “Consider accepting the invitation, anyway. It’s a chance to mend things between the borderlands and the Seelie Court.”

  “All right, but I won’t make any promises.”

  * * *

  Cedar said yes, to my intense surprise.

  “They won’t try anything,” he said. “It’s not like Lady Hornbeam. If they wanted you dead, they’d have already come for you. I can’t say they’ll forgive your deception, but if they want us to come to a Gathering to which other half-bloods are invited, it suggests they’re willing to recognise us as part of the faerie courts. Thanks to the constant wars between families in the borderlands, we never had that option before.”

  “Hmm. I’m not Seelie, though,” I said. “A quarter, technically, but I’m more Unseelie. And I thought they hated us.”

  “I wouldn’t go as far to say they’ll invite the Unseelie Sidhe to one of their parties, but half-bloods are different. There are more than you’d think who straddle two Courts, especially from the mortal realm.”