The Shadow Queen (Ravenspire)

by C. J. Redwine

  “I wonder where they’re getting the hay for the horses since the ground here is just as bad as it is in the east.”

  “Being loyal to Irina must have a few benefits.” Lorelai studied the mansion, gauging its security. Its weaknesses. Gabril was right—she couldn’t just walk up to the front door and knock. Even if she gained entrance that way, the servants who opened the door would announce her to the duchess, giving the woman time to prepare herself.

  No, what Lorelai needed here was the element of surprise.

  And she’d just discovered her way inside the mansion.

  “Wait out of sight in the trees. I’ll be back as soon as I can, but don’t worry if it takes a while.”

  “How are you getting in?” Gabril asked in a tone that really said, “Do you have a way back out?”

  “Through the open dormer windows.” Lorelai nodded toward the narrow gables whose windows were cracked open to let in the fresh mountain air. “I’ll find the duchess’s bedroom—”

  “How?” His mouth was tight with worry.

  “Trust me.” Lorelai shrugged off her pack and handed it to him. “Nothing is going to stop me from getting what I need. I’ll find the duchess’s bedroom and wait. When she retires for the night, she’ll get the surprise of her life.”

  “Be careful.” He dropped her pack and pulled her against his chest. She leaned into him, his heartbeat a steady, comforting sound beneath her ear.

  “You too.”

  He laughed, but there was no mirth in it. “I’ll just be out here, worrying my fool head off while you take all the risk.”

  “My kingdom, my battle, my risk.” She stood on tiptoes and kissed his cheek before turning back to face the mansion. “And save your worry for the duchess who aligned herself with Irina at the expense of Ravenspire. She’s going to need all the help she can get.”

  Lorelai crept along the hedges and ducked behind trees as she made her way to the north wing of the mansion where the marked ostentation of the rest of the mansion was lacking and the windows were few and far between. The servants’ quarters, no doubt. Lorelai glanced around but saw no one outside the mansion. Sasha flew overhead, sweeping the grounds in wide circles.

  Do you see anyone I need to worry about? Lorelai asked as she sized up the wall she meant to scale.

  Someone near the barn. Attack?

  Lorelai craned her neck, but couldn’t see the barn from where she stood. Which meant the person couldn’t see her either. Don’t attack. Once I’m inside, guard Gabril until I call for you.

  Squirrels?

  Yes, you can hunt some squirrels first, but be quick about it.

  Share? Sasha sent an image of dropping a few spare squirrels into Gabril’s lap.

  Not squirrels. You can share a rabbit, but not squirrels.

  Strange humans.

  Lorelai rolled her eyes and then focused on the wall. She took a quick run at it, kicked off with her left foot, and scaled the wall in quick leaps. Holding on to the edge of the closest gable with one hand to avoid sliding off the steep roof, she hooked the fingers of her other hand around the open window and pulled until she could slide into the house.

  She landed on a cot with a thin mattress, a thinner gray bedspread, and a lumpy pillow. A plain washbasin, an armoire that had seen better days, and a pair of scuffed work shoes needing a polish lined the wall beside the bed. Definitely servants’ quarters.

  Quickly, Lorelai pulled the window back to its former position and then hurried to the door. She peered out into a narrow hall. Empty. Easing out of the room, she closed the door behind her and moved down the corridor toward the main house.

  It took several minutes of walking corridors and checking rooms before she found what she was looking for. In a room of polished wood floors and bookcases that stretched floor to ceiling, a maid was sweeping the hearth while behind the screen, a fire crackled.

  Moving swiftly, Lorelai crept up behind the maid, pulling off her right-hand glove as she walked.

  “Excuse me,” she said quietly when she was directly behind the girl. The maid whirled in surprise, and Lorelai laid her bare hand against the maid’s pale arm. “Zna`uch. Tell me what I want to know.”

  The maid’s heart fluttered against the pull of Lorelai’s magic for a second, but then the girl’s eyes grew glassy, and she mumbled, “What do you want to know?”

  “Show me where the duchess sleeps, but let no one see us.”

  The maid turned obediently toward the door. Lorelai kept her hand on the maid’s arm as they went. The maid led her out of the library, down a staircase with iron railings, and through a hall covered in plush crimson rugs that looked expensive enough to have been woven in Akram. Every room they passed was empty, and a hush permeated the entire house.

  “Where is everybody?” Lorelai asked softly as they rounded a corner and entered the west wing.

  “Cook is in the kitchen finishing dinner. I couldn’t say where the butler or Mrs. Alban are.” The maid spoke in an eerie singsong tone that reminded Lorelai of the villagers in Nordenberg. Grief pricked her heart and ached in her throat at the thought of the place she’d lost Leo.

  He would’ve loved this. Sneaking through a noble’s mansion, bespelling a maid, and waiting in a duchess’s bedchambers to scare her into giving up what she knew of Irina—Leo would’ve been in his element. He’d have agonized over a costume, while Lorelai was simply wearing the same thing she’d worn to trek across the mountains. He’d have insisted on code names in case they were caught and questioned. He’d have pretended to be an Akram noble or a broker from Balavata. He would’ve added flair, and he’d have done it perfectly while teasing Lorelai about her inability to ever be anything but her serious, straightforward self.

  She’d give anything to hear him tease her again.

  The gaping hole inside her that was Leo ached, a sharp pain that Lorelai felt in her bones. Her eyes stung, and the air in the opulent corridor they were walking through felt impossible to breathe.

  “Who is Mrs. Alban?” she forced herself to ask through lips that trembled with grief.

  “The housekeeper.”

  “Where is the rest of the staff?”

  “We’re all that is left. The rest were let go.”

  Apparently, being loyal to Irina fed your horses but didn’t give you enough to keep a full staff employed. What were those jobless people doing for food this winter? Where were they living?

  Lorelai’s jaw tightened, and the thread of determination that blazed within her refocused her grief into purpose. No one else in Ravenspire should die because of Irina’s irresponsible use of magic. Not if Lorelai could be stronger, faster, and better than the queen.

  “Where is the duchess?” she asked as the maid’s footsteps slowed outside a pair of doors with rose trellises carved around its edges.

  “In the dining room awaiting her dinner.”

  The maid’s singsong voice was scraping Lorelai’s nerves raw. She stepped into a bedchamber decorated in brilliant blue, green, and yellow and turned to the girl.

  “Go back to the library and sweep the hearth. Forget you ever saw me.”

  Removing her hand from the girl’s arm, she shut the doors behind her as the maid turned back the way they’d come. A bank of windows on the western wall showed the sun disappearing over the edge of the mountain, leaving crimson streamers in its wake.

  Lorelai settled into a chair in the corner beside the windows, the corner parallel to the door and therefore impossible to see until the duchess was already inside the room with the door shut, and waited.

  Less than an hour later, the door swung open and Duchess Waldina entered the room. Her short, sturdy body was packed into a tightly corseted dress in the same brilliant blue as the curtains that framed her bedroom windows. Brown curls were piled atop her head, and her fingers were weighed down with jeweled rings. She shut the door, kicked her shoes off, and fumbled for the laces of her bodice.

  Lorelai waited while the duchess u
nlaced her dress and heaved in a deep breath, and then she stood and said quietly, “If you scream for help, I will tear this mansion apart until nothing remains but the ground you built upon.”

  The duchess whirled toward the corner and opened her mouth, but Lorelai was already moving.

  “Eee—”

  Lorelai’s gloved palm slammed over the woman’s open mouth, cutting off her cry. Magic sparked in her bare palm, and the woman’s brown eyes widened as Lorelai lifted a hand wreathed in white light and held it close to the duchess’s face.

  “I was very clear.” Lorelai’s voice was cold. “Scream, and I will bring this house down. You can see the magic in my hands. You’re aligned with my enemy. Do you really think I’ll hesitate to destroy everything you love?”

  The woman shook her head in sharp, frantic movements that threatened to topple her tower of curls. For a moment, Lorelai was tempted to touch her with her bare palm and speak the same incantor she’d used on the maid, but according to news Gabril had gathered throughout the years from villagers on the duchess’s lands, Duchess Waldina had spent significant time in the castle as Irina’s guest. It was unlikely that Irina would allow someone to gain that much access to her without having put a spell or two in place to ensure her own safety. If Lorelai tried to overcome the spell, the duchess’s heart would fight hers, and the physical cost would be tremendous.

  Besides, Irina needed to believe Kol had killed the princess. Lorelai wasn’t going to destroy that illusion until she was ready to launch an attack against the queen.

  She met the duchess’s frightened gaze, and bared her teeth in a smile that made the woman tremble. Maybe she couldn’t use magic against the duchess herself, but the woman didn’t need to know that.

  “I’m going to remove my hand, and we’re going to have a talk. You’re going to answer my questions honestly, or I will use my magic to compel you to do so.” Lorelai leaned close, her smile still in place. “If I have to use magic on you, Irina will know we’ve talked. That would displease me, and it would certainly displease her. I’m sure you understand the consequences of displeasing Irina.”

  The woman nodded again, her eyes darting around the room before returning to Lorelai. Slowly, the princess removed her hand and then gestured toward the bed.

  “Sit down.”

  “Who are you?” The duchess’s voice shook, and she rubbed her lips with her bejeweled fingers.

  “We’ve met before, Duchess. Perhaps you remember? You gave me a bag of wintermint candy drops to keep me quiet while you curried favor with your new queen.”

  The duchess blanched. “That’s impossible. You’re dead.”

  “And yet here I stand.”

  Duchess Waldina pressed her hands to her cheeks and then fluttered them in the air like gaudily dressed birds. “Such a shock! I’m overcome. Of course, the queen must be told. She’ll be so grateful to have part of the family she lost returned to her.”

  “Irina knows.” Lorelai studied the woman’s eyes, searching for the truth. “Only last week she sent a huntsman to kill me.”

  The woman’s hands wilted, falling limply into her lap, and her eyes became guarded. “If Irina is against you, there is nothing anyone can do.”

  “Oh, I think you can do a lot for me, Duchess. Let’s start with this. You know who I am and what I can do.”

  “You’re the princess—”

  “I’m a mardushka, and I am your true queen.” Lorelai’s voice was as unforgiving as the floor beneath her boots. “Irina is a usurper who murdered my father and tried to murder his children.”

  She clenched her fist as Leo’s face blazed across her memory, and her power sparked, wreathing her hand in brilliant white fire. The duchess shrank against her yellow bedspread as Lorelai locked gazes with her.

  “I didn’t know. None of us . . . we had to take her word for it. We had to do whatever it took to survive.”

  “And yet many of the nobles across Ravenspire quietly defied the queen. Paying a measure of their peasants’ taxes to alleviate the burden. Hiding those Irina’s spies would condemn to death. Doing their best to keep their people safe and refusing to give their loyalty to one who used her power like a bludgeon.” Lorelai took a step closer to the bed. “But not you, Duchess Waldina. You curried Irina’s favor at the expense of everyone else. And look what it got you. Your land is dying. You have a skeletal staff, and I’m sure if I go into the villages on your land, I’ll find people who are desperate and starving, who imagine breaking into this mansion with its tiny staff and stealing anything they might use to pay their way out of the kingdom. I’ll find people who curse your name and wish death or worse for you.”

  “What could be worse than death?” The woman laughed feebly, but then scrambled toward the middle of the bed as Lorelai lunged forward, her bare hand raised.

  “I am. I’ve lost my mother, my father, my brother, and my kingdom. The only thing left to lose is my own life, and that doesn’t scare me.” The truth of her words was a burning stone in her chest. “All that matters to me now is saving Ravenspire from Irina and the people who support her. People like you.”

  “No! I don’t . . . That is, I was just pretending.”

  “Were you pretending when you sent a group of your own peasants to Irina’s dungeon for the crime of begging you for help? Were you pretending when you housed known spies and then invited your fellow nobility for a weeklong house party that ended in nine of them being arrested for treasonous words against the queen? Were you pretending when—”

  “How do you know about any of that?” The duchess demanded, her bravado as thin as the mattress on the maid’s bed.

  “I listen—and I know how to go unnoticed when I need to be. You’d be surprised what I’ve seen.” The memory of the woman who’d killed her children to spare their suffering sent a flood of anger through Lorelai, and she clenched her jaw so hard it hurt. “Your crimes against Ravenspire are many, Duchess, and in a few short weeks, I will be your new queen. What can you tell me about my enemy that will convince me to spare your life?”

  The duchess swallowed hard, and sweat gleamed on her brow, reflected in the brilliant light that wreathed Lorelai’s hand. “Irina is in love with Viktor, her castle steward.”

  “What else?”

  The woman took a deep, shuddering breath. “She never visits the castle gardens where your parents are buried.”

  Lorelai’s heart ached, and she sharpened her voice. “None of this is helpful, Duchess. You have one last chance before I unleash my magic on you.”

  The duchess hesitated, and Lorelai snapped, “So be it.”

  The princess reached toward the sturdy wooden bedposts with her bare palm, and the duchess yelled, “No, wait! Wait. There’s one more thing. Irina is sick. Her heart. Whenever she does magic, especially a big spell, she has to take to her bed for days. That’s all I know, I swear on my life.”

  Lorelai paused, magic burning her palm, her eyes locked on the duchess while her mind raced.

  Finally, something she could use against Irina. All those years of forcing the land and its inhabitants to submit to her magic had cost both the land and the queen. A vicious sense of triumph welled inside Lorelai, and her smile made the duchess shudder.

  If Irina weakened every time she used magic, if her heart was giving out, then Lorelai finally had a way to beat her. She could provoke the queen to use spells—huge spells. A weakened Irina would call on her army and her spies to help her defeat the princess, so the best way to incite Irina to use magic would be to work her way toward the capital, destroying anything Irina could use against her. She’d isolate her from her allies, tear apart the bridges, roads, and defensive positions that led to the capital so that no help would come for the queen, and provoke Irina to retaliate with magic at every turn. By the time Lorelai reached the capital, she’d be facing a queen too weak to put up much of a fight.

  Without another word to the duchess, Lorelai left the bedroom, hurried out of the mansio
n, and raced to meet Gabril. They had two days’ worth of ground to cover to get to Lorelai’s first target.

  TWENTY-ONE

  FOR DAYS, TRAPPED in his human body, Kol had run through forests, forded rivers, and climbed the western Falkrain Mountains following the scent of his prey. He’d slept only when his legs gave out and refused to hold him. He’d eaten only when his vision blurred and a strange noise rang in his ears. The underbrush had clawed at him, low-hanging branches had swiped at him, and he’d lost his shirt when he’d tumbled down a hillside while trying to run at night. Through it all, the collar around his neck flooded him with pain, and the girl’s maddening scent of evergreen, snow, and sweet burning wood remained tantalizingly just out of reach.

  But now, Kol crouched beside an enormous evergreen tree and stared at the girl sitting with her back against a tree, his dragon heart thundering, his chest burning. The air in the northwest Falkrain Mountains was frigid, but even though he had on nothing but his pants, his boots, and a collar of thistle and bone, he couldn’t feel it. All he felt was heat from the dragon fire trapped in his chest and a terrible pain that filled him until he could barely think about anything else.

  He took a step, and her head whipped up. She met his eyes and smiled slowly.

  “It worked.” She sounded triumphant, but then she looked closer at him and frowned. “Where is your shirt? And why are you still wearing Irina’s collar?”

  He snarled.

  The girl went still, her body tense. The wind teased her long black hair and brought her scent to Kol. He lifted his nose and tested the air. Evergreen, crisp snow, and the sweetness of burning wood, just like the coat his queen had given him to smell.

  He’d found his prey.

  No, not prey. She was . . . something else. Something he no longer had the words for. He shook his head, trying to think, to remember, but his dragon heart blazed within him, begging for blood and fire. For someone’s pain to match the unending agony that circled his neck beneath his collar and spread through his veins like razor-tipped lightning.