by J. C. Nelson
Liam sat up in his chair, set down the frosted mug of beer in his hand, and wiped his face. “You need to hear this, M.” He nodded to the doorman.
“Your fiancé asked, quite politely, where the queens are.”
You would think that in all that time, it would have occurred to me to wonder why I didn’t run into any of them. I’d chalked it up to good luck, but, in retrospect, that’d never been my kind of luck. “And?”
“None dare enter the court. For now, we operate under the standing rules from the old High Queen. The first to enter lays claim to her title.”
Ari steadfastly refused to discuss the court every time I brought it up. If getting there first laid claim, I figured we’d have queens camped outside the door like some sort of Black Friday sale. “So why isn’t anyone here?”
“The first to lay claim will face the rest as challengers, unless they have already given their allegiance. So, I would expect they are preparing.” The doorman turned to look into his empty domain. “Aligning, arranging. The one who gains the support by admission of all the others will be the new High Queen.”
A chill sent every hair on my body to full alert, as a possibility occurred to me. I’m certain the look showed through, because Liam gently took my arm, pulling me closer. I took a breath, then spoke. “Was Isolde ever High Queen?”
At her name, the doorman turned back to me, a look of displeasure on his face. “Isolde never cared for my comforts. My rules limited her too much, and she valued her power above all else. When you arrived, wearing her ring, I assumed that you would serve as her representative.”
Liam scratched his chin, making a sound like sandpaper as his fingers rubbed the stubble. “What do you mean, limited?”
“I set certain rules. You may not bring outside magic here. She is welcome in my walls, but as a seal bearer and queen only.” He nodded, as if repeating a rehearsed speech. “She must check her father’s power at the door. Not that she has any need of it. I would wager her the match in magic of any queen, living or dead.”
“So all I have to do is get her to come here, and she’s cut down to size.” My muscles tensed, as that old familiar determination set in.
The doorman shook his head. “She will never enter, nor does she need to. She has you.”
Liam spoke before I could. “Tell her about the handmaiden rules.”
If Liam had asked the doorman to explain basic addition, the doorman would not have looked more bored. “A queen chooses her handmaiden. A princess’s mother chooses the princess’s handmaidens.” He looked to my hand, where I wore the Black Queen’s signet ring. “Normally.”
Liam cut in, his patience wearing thinner than the socks I threw out of his drawer when he first moved in. “Ari’s mother kicked her out of Kingdom. The High Queen, with the support of all the others, can banish any other queen. Strip her of her rights. Can’t change her nature, but we think it would break the handmaiden’s bond. Right?” He glanced to the doorman.
“I have never seen it done. The other queens would turn on her in an instant.” The doorman’s frown threatened to pull his mouth off.
“But it’s possible?” Liam’s tone made it clear, as statement more than a question.
“I suppose—” The doorman cocked his head to one side, then his eyes lit up, and he smiled. “Sir, please step aside.”
Liam did, and the recliner, TV, everything but the mug of beer disappeared.
“Handmaiden, sir, please show proper respect.” The doorman strode down the hall to the double doors we’d entered through. “We welcome our first claimant to the title of High Queen.”
Bright light from the double doors made silhouettes of the figures who stood there. The doorman bowed low, but his deep baritone echoed through the hall. “It is recorded. For the title of eight hundred and seventy-fifth High Queen, I accept your claim.”
He turned and walked down the hall past us, opening the velvet rope for the three figures. The queen was tall, taller than her handmaidens, taller than me, and she swept down the hallway in an impractically long dress, her handmaidens trailing behind.
Then the swish of fabric stopped, and Liam growled, catching his breath, and his hand tightened over mine like iron.
I looked up, letting the overhead lights confirm the face I’d dreaded seeing, and yet, somehow expected.
The doorman nodded to me. “Your Highness, I present Marissa Locks, Handmaiden to the Black Queen.”
She ignored him. Her eyes never left mine, but her mouth pulled back in a tight smile. “Indeed.”
The doorman, perhaps sensing my murderous intentions, stepped between us. “Handmaiden, you may bow before Gwendolyn Thromson. For now, High Queen.”
Ten
WE WON’T GO into how, exactly, I got myself thrown out of the court. I managed to keep my purse, a bag with my old clothes, and two fistfuls of hair from Ari’s sisters, which I yanked out before Liam and the doorman wrestled me away. Ari’s stepmother ranked high on the list of people I’d willingly commit violence against.
The fact that she’d tried to kill both me and Ari on occasion might have factored into it. Then again, using her own stepdaughters as handmaidens didn’t score her any points either.
“You could’ve handled that better.” Liam sat on the curb with me while we waited for a bus to take us out of Kingdom. The doorman had ejected us into an area even I didn’t visit very often, and, judging from the diesel bus, one of the lower magic areas.
“I would have, if you’d grabbed the doorman instead of me. I was this close to taking one of her eyes out, and if I’d had my gun, I would have shot her dead.” In the silence that passed between us, my own words sounded foreign. I put a hand to my mouth, feeling to see if my lips were the ones moving.
Liam reached over, putting his arm around me. “Easy. Deep breaths.”
In the warm sun, I’d begun to shiver. “I don’t know where that came from.” I pulled at the silver signet ring on my finger for the millionth time, rotating it. Though it turned freely, if I tried to remove it, it clung to me as if glued on.
“I know a bit about things that whisper to you. About impulses, and urges for violence.” Liam seldom spoke of the curse, acting as though it were just a cold sore that flared up under stress. His patient, calm attitude had as much to do with keeping it firmly in check as with his genuine good nature.
“I hate her.”
“Ari’s stepmother, or the Black Queen?”
“Yes.” I stood as the bus approached. A hybrid magic-diesel, it pulled to a stop with a puff of rose-scented exhaust. “Tell me you found out what you needed to. I don’t do spas. I didn’t think I did chocolate fountains, and frankly, I need a workout to sweat all the frilliness off.” I had so much to do with my life that didn’t involve being pampered, including finding a couple of souls gone AWOL before the Adversary started searching for them on his own.
Liam chuckled as we boarded the bus and sat next to me, taking the aisle seat. That way the freaks that rode public transit would have to sit next to him. “Trust me, that was not a waste of time, but I need to consult with Grimm and Mrs. P. I have some ideas about how to deal with your bond to the Black Queen.” Liam drifted off into thought, rubbing his chin for a moment. “Oh, and speaking of Grimm, he called while I was researching. We need to get back to the Agency. Having a sword is one thing. Being able to use it is another, and he’s arranged for lessons.”
The thought of learning to use a sword seemed crazier than everything else I’d gone through. “I did pretty well in hand to hand. Who’s supposed to teach me?”
“I think I’ll let Grimm explain that one.” Liam leaned over and meshed his fingers with mine.
• • •
BACK AT THE Agency, Ari sat in the kitchen, picking at a salad as much as eating it. When she saw me, she almost ran over, then a look of fear crossed her face, and she dropped her g
aze in classic “Ari is guilty” fashion. I knew it by heart because I’d caught her watching the home shopping channel with my credit card several times when we lived together. “M. Are you okay?”
I walked over and slid onto the chair across from her. “I’ll be fine. It’s not your fault.”
“It is. I had Grimm check, and he won’t answer my questions about the prophecy. He’d tell me if it were true.” Ari put her head down on the desk. “Where’s Liam?”
“Helping the cargo guys catch a fire salamander that escaped its crate.” Being largely fireproof thanks to my engagement ring, I suppose I should have been helping. The kitchen door swung open, and Mikey dipped his head to lumber through, carrying a pot, ladle, and a few plastic bowls. He grinned at us with teeth that for once weren’t pointed.
“Marissa, I want you to try this and be honest. What does it need?” Mikey brought me a bowl of steaming beans and meat.
The scent of basil and rosemary made my mouth water. I chewed for a moment, savoring the texture. “Salt. Definitely needs more salt.”
If I’d hit Mikey with a hammer, I couldn’t have made him sadder. I know—I’d hit him several times with a hammer and it barely even dampened his mood. “Philistine. Ari, your turn.” He handed her a bowl of her own.
Ari scrunched her nose and took a bite. “It tastes gamey. What is this? Deer chili?”
Mikey shuffled his feet, rubbing his thumbs against his fists. “Sure. Deer. You’ll eat it if I call it deer, right?”
Ari gagged slightly and spit a bean across the room, then rushed to the sink, where she did her best supermodel impression. “Michael Seth Langhorn, that is not funny. I’m already on probation, if I start eating people . . .” She rushed from the room, probably off to gargle some battery acid.
I took another bite.
“So?” Mikey slid backwards across a chair, keeping his eyes on me. “Give me your best guess. What is it?”
I added a bit more salt. “You could at least make it difficult. Basil, rosemary, and thyme with white peppercorns.”
“The meat.” Mikey’s smile revealed razor-sharp canines.
“Honey badger. Next time, give me a challenge.” I licked the edges of the spoon, then stopped as the grin spread further and further across his face. “No?”
He shook his head. “I couldn’t get honey badger. So I used regular badger and marinated it in honey to compensate. I’ll leave a bowl on your desk for Liam.” He walked out of the kitchen, taking his chili and smile with him.
I’ve never found anything that makes a wolf happier (besides eating an unsuspecting stranger) than good food. I polished off my bowl and wiped my face, only to find Grimm watching me from the napkin dispenser.
“Marissa, if you don’t mind, I have arranged training. Go to the third floor.” Grimm faded out without waiting.
Now, our building, it’s had a bad run. Partially it’s the neighborhood, and partially it’s the economy, but mostly it was from folks who didn’t like the Fairy Godfather and decided to do nasty things to us. Just the usual things—trolls knocking holes in the walls, huntsmen attacking, or that time the whole building was covered in bees. One by one, most of the other businesses found good reasons to break their lease, and Grimm always bought them out.
The third floor contained nothing but burned-out office furniture and the remains of a wedding cake shop. What exactly happened we won’t go into, but let’s say that there were quite a few couples who had cupcakes at their wedding.
When I stepped out of the stairwell, into the remains of the third floor, I wondered how exactly the building hadn’t collapsed. Piles of broken drywall, overturned desks, and heaps of filing papers littered the floor. Drips of water from the fire sprinklers left everything mildewed and rotten.
“Grimm?” My voice echoed in the empty space. I approached the remains of a destroyed window office and looked out on the city below. The people there hurried about like ants, wrapped up in lives that never involved evil queens or demon apocalypses. Since I was only three floors up, large ants, like the ones I’d helped exterminate in the sewers last year.
The slightest whisper of air, the thinnest edge of shadow caught my attention. I instinctively ducked, then rolled to my feet and leaped away as a blade passed within a hairsbreadth of my throat.
The figure in front of me wore loose black leggings and a sleeveless top that revealed muscles practically carved of steel. He swung the sword back and sheathed it across his shoulders without even looking. With one hand, he swept back his mask, revealing salt-and-pepper-gray hair, with narrow eyes.
I gave the customary bow. “Shigeru.”
He returned it. “I have accepted Fairy Godfather’s offer to teach you swordsmanship.”
“I don’t think you can teach me to be a ninja overnight.”
“No.” Shigeru picked an iron bar from the rubble behind him and tossed it to me. “We begin with basic strokes. Your lesson is complete when you can hit me.”
“Just call me Grasshopper.” I caught the bar in the air and swung it like a baseball bat, aiming to end this as fast as it started.
Shigeru fell backwards, twisted, and kicked my legs out from under me. “Don’t overextend. Keep your center of balance, even if it costs you force on your blow.”
I rose from the floor, spitting out drywall dust. This time, I swung straight down at him.
Shigeru slipped to the side, pulling on my arm so that my own momentum threw me forward. “Force on chopping strokes is down, not forward.”
From my vantage point on the mildewed carpet, it was clear this day would be full of bruises and failure.
• • •
TECHNICALLY, MY LESSON never ended. That is, I never once got a blow in on the master ninja. I think at the point where I could no longer get up, he took pity on me. What really ticked me off was that he never even needed his own sword. Didn’t matter how I swung, stabbed, or chopped; I wound up kissing carpet.
When he finally dismissed me, I was so tired, I rode the elevator up. Ari stood in the hallway, waving good-bye to a couple she’d been counseling, and rushed to put her arm under me.
I winced at a dozen bruises. “Careful. First day of sword lessons didn’t go so well.”
Ari muttered under her breath, practically pulling me through the lobby and to my office. Then she flicked the mirror like a bell, causing it to ripple. “Grimm, you get in here this instant.”
He coalesced in the mirror, causing the waves to stop. “Ah, I see your lesson went as expected. Arianna, calm yourself. Marissa, if you don’t mind, I’d like to offer you healing. You have very little time and much to learn.”
My mouth turned up in a smile as I remembered the warm, buttery feeling of having all my wounds washed away in a flood of magic. Then my eyes snapped open, remembering the other way. “This is going to hurt, isn’t it?”
“Pain is how you know you are alive, my dear.” He looked almost sympathetic for a moment. Then his power swept out from my bracelet, and the healing started.
If my teeth hadn’t been clamped down on my tongue, I’d have painted a soliloquy of swearing capable of boiling coffee at ten paces. Dry ice pressed against my skin wouldn’t have hurt worse. As the bruises faded away, the burning deepened until my breath became ragged and my stomach curdled.
Then the pain faded away, and I opened my eyes to give Grimm a weak smile. “No big deal.”
Grimm nodded. “I’m proud of you. That was one, let’s fix the other sixteen now.”
I don’t know if it took hours or seconds to heal the rest of my injuries. I can tell you healing the minor fracture in my arm did not feel like cold. No, to replicate that I’d need to stick a red-hot poker into my arm and hold it there.
When Grimm finally pronounced me fixed, sweat covered my body, and I shivered and ached. Ari reached into the shopping bag she carried e
verywhere, pulled out a washcloth, and dabbed my forehead. “I’m so sorry.”
“Me too. This morning was great. Liam and I went into Kingdom and talked to the doorman.” I smiled, remembering my pampering session. When I opened my eyes, Ari’s gaze left chills. It wasn’t the yellowish, dead eyes in her head. The fear on her face, that scared me.
“You went into the Court of Queens when there was no High Queen?” Her voice trembled with fear or anger.
“Yes. The doorman wasn’t willing to discuss handmaiden lore with Liam unless he was otherwise occupied. Guess who got to be the distraction?”
Ari kicked my desk, startling me. “Do you have any idea how dangerous that was? The High Queen sets the rules for the court. If you were in a bubble bath when someone laid claim to the court, they could declare the bubble baths be filled with lava.”
“Calm down. There wasn’t a High Queen, so the doorman said the old rules still held. But there’s a claimant now. The first one to lay claim arrived right as Liam and I were leaving.” Technically true.
Ari sagged back into my chair. “Grimm, did you know Marissa went into the court this morning?”
Grimm didn’t appear for more than a minute, uncomfortable seconds ticking by. “Yes, young lady, I knew. There was no High Queen at the time, and none of the claimants would dare risk my daughter’s wrath by assaulting her handmaiden.”
The tension drained from Ari’s face and shoulders like a wave. “I’m sorry. It’s just that I don’t want you getting caught up in the battle for High Queen.”
I glanced to the mirror, catching Grimm’s eye. “You know who arrived as I was leaving, right?”
He nodded. “When you were thrown out by the doorman, I believe you meant.”
“Wait—who laid claim?” Ari snapped up like a spring, looking between us.
I bit my tongue, trying to figure out how to say it without upsetting her, and finally concluded nothing short of a lie would help. “Gwendolyn.”
Eleven
ARI’S STRING OF curses would have melted the walls. Her auburn hair stood up on end from the sheer amount of electricity coursing over her, and she alternated between shaking the building clean to the foundations and hyperventilating. “I. Will. Not. Let. Her.” Ari clenched and unclenched her fists with each word.