Fairy Queens: Books 5-7

by Amber Argyle

  He was confused a moment before he realized she thought he meant her art. “I meant you, but the sculptures are nice too.” She blushed and he had to suppress a smile—this mission might be more fun than he’d thought. “Show me this tower,” he said.

  “No. I’ll go look. You head back to the cave.”

  Adar backed toward the door, hand up. “You’ve forced this upon me, you know. I’ll have to wander the palace, lost and vulnerable. I just hope I don’t get caught.”

  Rolling her eyes, Elly marched past him. “I should have left you to drown,” she muttered under her breath, then opened the door a sliver. He stepped behind her as she peered up and down the corridor. This close, he could smell her—the fresh, cool scent of an oncoming snowstorm. She turned and tugged his hood up farther over his face, her hand brushing his temple. “I don’t see anyone. Keep your hood up, just in case. From a distance, any fairy who sees you will assume you’re my grandfather.”

  Adar crooked a smile at her, the one that had always worked for him before. Her brow crinkled in confusion and she stepped into a wide corridor. Brushing off her reaction, or lack thereof, he glanced around. This was more what he’d been expecting—white with shades of gray and cool blue. It was intricate, with delicate, lacy arches. There were tables with frozen splays of ice flowers, all of them in the angled shape Elly seemed to prefer.

  “You made these?” he asked in surprise.

  She turned back to him, holding a finger to her full lips. “I made all of it—the entire palace. I add to it every year.”

  He followed her, trying to stop gawking and pay attention to his surroundings for when the time came to make his escape. “And what does your princess do while you’re making pretty things?”

  From ahead of him, Elly’s shoulders stiffened. “Doing her mother’s wishes, as a good little princess does.”

  No denying the bitterness in her tone. Perhaps she resented her princess. Adar tucked that information away for future retrieval. They wound their way up a high tower, the stairs made of a densely packed snow that somehow retained its traction.

  Elly stepped up through the floor, peering about carefully before looking down at him. “You’ll be on display for any fairy to spot. Perhaps you should wait below.”

  “I have to see for myself,” he whispered. If the second ship had sunk, he was stranded in the queendom, and more than his own life was at stake.

  Her mouth tightened. “All right. Just let me check first.” She climbed the rest of the way up and stood at the edge, then moved out of his line of sight. He heard her soft steps slowly circling.

  He came up to find her looking through a telescope made of ice, the freezing breeze tugging at her long hair as she searched the horizon. “There is nothing. Only the endless sea.” Adar sniffed, noting indignantly that she didn’t even shiver.

  He held out his hand. She placed the telescope in it. The cold sides burned into his already freezing skin. He scanned in all directions, shocked at the perfect clearness of the lens. But he didn’t see another ship. How was he going to get out of here without a ship? He handed her the telescope and blew into his cupped hands.

  “Will the ship leave without you?” Elly asked.

  He considered the men he’d met over the journey. Young and old, rich and poor. They all had one thing in common—pride. But they weren’t suicidal, either. “Probably.” Especially if they realized the Drauga had sunk. Fire and burning, if Adar was going to die, did it have to be in this frozen wasteland? Why not in the midst of a battle, his blood singing through his veins? Or at the side of a beautiful woman.

  He glanced sidelong at Elly—maybe that last one was more attainable than he’d imagined. But then the wind picked up, cutting through the sealskin cape like it was nothing. He shivered hard, a jolt of pain tearing through his shoulder from the involuntary movement.

  She stepped toward him, her fingers hovering over his cheek. “What does it feel like to be cold?” she asked, withdrawing her hand.

  Trying to keep the pain from showing in his expression, Adar blinked at her. “Like you’re slowly becoming an icicle.”

  Elly took a step back. “We better get you out of the wind.”

  She led the way down the steps. Adar was shivering so hard he had to lean against the outside wall with his good shoulder to keep his balance, which slowed him down even more. He needed more of that tincture—he could feel it wearing off fast. And right after that, the heat of the fire. But first things first. “I need heavier clothes.”

  She paused at the base of the stairs, her bottom lip caught by one of her pearly teeth. She looked him up and down and must have noticed he was starting to struggle from the cold and pain, for her face softened. “There is a chest of clothing that might work.”

  He waited for her to take him to it, but she only stared at him, something unreadable in her gaze. He let out a long-suffering sigh. “Well,” he prompted finally, “I know I’m pretty to look at and all, but lead on.”

  Silently she started down a flight of stairs. She moved faster than he did, so she soon turned around and waited for him to catch up. “Adar, have you ever heard of the Sundering?”

  His foot caught on a stair and he nearly fell. As it was, the misstep jolted his shoulder and made his head pound anew. “You mean the calamity that’s destroying the world?”

  Elly’s face blanched. He hadn’t thought it was possible for her to be paler, but there it was. “So you believe it’s real?”

  He huffed. “I know it’s real.”

  She pivoted without a word and led him to the second floor. There was another long corridor flanked by four doors. They passed the first two—one that led to an opulent room, the other door closed. “Whose rooms are these?”

  “This is the queen’s floor.”

  That’s enough to make a man quicken his pace, Adar thought, even as he forced himself to remain calm.

  Elly paused before the third door, reached for the handle, and then hesitated. He was about to ask her what was wrong when she set her shoulders and pushed it open.

  Inside, the air had a stale quality, as if no one came in here often. It was some kind of study, with a desk and chair. Lining the walls were weapons—clannish, judging by the knots hammered into the surface of the axe head and the handle. There were daggers and short swords and even a bow, though the wood looked dry. Adar suspected one pull would snap it in two.

  This would be the king’s study. Adar considered taking some weapons—he felt naked without his twin swords on his back—but Elly was already skittish. He had a feeling even the slightest sign of aggression would frighten her into betraying him.

  “In the chest,” she said, not moving from the doorway. He wondered at her pained expression, but he was too cold to focus on it for long. He pulled back the lid of the trunk. It was full of clannish clothing—tunics and over-tunics, loose trousers, and an intricate clan belt. There was also winter clothing—a thick sheepskin coat and trousers. Heavy boots, too. Gloves. And most importantly, “A hat!”

  Adar didn’t hesitate to drop the nearly worthless cloak and pull the extra clothing directly over the ill-fitting ensemble he already wore. This time Elice didn’t try to help him, so it took longer. Last, he put on the hat. It was sheepskin with flaps that covered his ears and tied under his chin, though he couldn’t tie the strings with only one hand. He knew he looked ridiculous, but at least his head was covered.

  Under all the layers, he felt immediate relief from the biting cold, but he was still frozen to the bone. And the throb in his shoulder was growing fierce. He still needed to find out where the princess was staying, but he knew his body, knew how far and how hard he could push it. And he was at his limit. “I think I need the fire and something to eat,” he told Elly. “And tincture. Lots of tincture.” He felt a twinge of conscience for putting her at risk like this, but he hadn’t eaten since the night before.

  She nodded. “Wait here. I’ll be back.”

  “I’d rat
her come with you,” Adar spoke up, realizing that without any sign of a ship to get him out of here, she might decide she’d be better off turning him in.

  She was already halfway down the corridor and didn’t look back, and he certainly couldn’t keep up with her. He needed to rest if he was even going to make it to the cave. “Meat!” he called after her. Then he found a chair in the study and collapsed into it.

  Almost immediately, he noticed the eerie silence, so complete that all he could hear was the beating of his heart. It was disconcerting, being alone in an enormous palace that should have been filled with servants and royalty. Instead, only four people lived here. He didn’t know how Elly stood it.

  When she finally returned, she had a bowl filled with raw meat, frozen as hard as a rock. Would it have been too much for her to cook it? But then Adar remembered the whole fire-and-ice-palace conundrum. He looked at the meat distastefully, hoping the fire in the cave was still burning so he could cook it. “What I wouldn’t give for some roasted lamb basted with a mint sauce.”

  With a huff, Elly whirled and started up the stairs. “In case you hadn’t notice, we don’t have lambs. Or mint. Or fire, for that matter.”

  He rolled his eyes before hurrying after her. “You can’t tell me that with all your books you haven’t heard of real food and longed for it.” She didn’t answer. “Oh, come on. There’s got to be something you want to eat besides raw meat all the time.”

  Her steps slowed a little. “I’ve always wanted to try lamb stew with some of my grandmother’s soft bread. And a bowl of raspberries and cream.”

  Adar felt sorry for her then, that she had never tasted something so simple even the peasants could enjoy it. He followed her up the stairs to the third floor, which was noticeably smaller than the second. Before they stepped into the corridor, he looked around the corner, pretending to be suddenly worried they might be caught. “Does the princess sleep on this floor, too?”

  Elly shot him a suspicious glare. “Why are you so interested in her?”

  He considered for a moment before deciding he couldn’t risk it. “Just don’t want to turn into one of your ice sculptures.”

  She quirked an eyebrow. “But you’re not worried about the queen?”

  “I thought the queen was busy today.”

  Elly stepped into her intricate room. Adar noted the hidden lever she used to open the secret door. She gestured for him to enter the room. Obviously she wasn’t going to answer him. Very well. There were other ways to find out what he needed to know.

  “You’re not coming?” he asked warily, wondering if he’d revealed too much.

  Her jaw tightened. “They’ll be eating dinner soon. You saw where the tincture was.” She motioned for him to go down.

  Adar hesitated, feeling more than a little guilty for using her. “Thank you. For saving my life. For helping me.”

  She blinked at him in surprise. Then her mouth turned into a tentative smile, revealing an off-center dimple on her left cheek. “You’re welcome.”

  The next morning, Elice squared herself before entering the library. Her grandfather was lying on the sealskin sofa, his legs propped up on pillows as he snored softly. He’d started taking several naps throughout the day. She had tried to give him tincture after tincture, but he’d only waved her off and said there wasn’t a remedy for getting old.

  Green apple in hand, her mother stood by the huge windows that overlooked the sea, the long, lean lines of her body emphasized by the low-slung clan belt. In that moment, Elice thought her mother was a woman of white, her white dress and white skin reflecting the white light from the snow outside. Surely her blood was white too. For nothing so staining as red pumped through her veins.

  Elice rested the tray of their breakfast on the table. Adar hadn't been too far off when he’d thought her a servant. There wasn’t much cleaning to do—after all, there wasn’t really any dirt in the queendom—but she hunted and prepared their food. And looked after her grandfather. Folding her hands in front of her, Elice waited for her mother to acknowledge her, but the queen didn’t bother turning around. “Thank you for sparing Chriel,” Elice finally said.

  “I’m still not sure I am sparing her.”

  Elice gasped. “But surely—”

  Her mother’s long fingers curled around the apple, her nails biting into the flesh. “Chriel openly defied me, and worse still, she undermined my authority. I must send a message to the rest of the fairies.”

  Elice stepped around the table, coming up behind her mother. “They obey you, Mother, completely and without question.” The Winter Queen was one with the fairies—they shared emotions. How could they possibly betray her?

  “All winter, there have been whispers of the Sundering among them.” Ilyenna’s voice was barely above a whisper. “Though I have forbidden it.”

  Elice stared at the back of her mother’s head. “Will you kill everyone who disagrees with you, Mother? Will you kill me?”

  Ilyenna turned around. Frost lined her long lashes and the tips of her hair. “Has Chriel turned you against me too?”

  “You do that well enough on your own,” Elice said through gritted teeth.

  The Winter Queen raised an eyebrow. “You forget, Daughter. You are under my protection, afforded all the comforts and diversions I can offer. While I wage war to keep you safe. To keep us safe.”

  Elice shook her head bitterly. “Don’t blame this war on me. You’re avenging your brother and my father—” She choked on the last word, unable to carry on.

  A blizzard stormed behind her mother’s eyes. But before either of them could say any more, Elice’s grandfather pushed himself to a sitting position and swung his legs heavily off the couch. “Stop bickering, both of you. We are a family—there’s nothing more important than that.” He pointed a finger at Elice. “Stop baiting your mother.” Then he pointed to his daughter, his face softening. “There’s nothing wrong with showing mercy, Ilyenna.”

  Elice’s mother brushed the frost from her lashes. “If I show her mercy, I look weak to those who oppose me.” She made a slashing motion with her arm. “Any sign of weakness—any—and they could orchestrate my death as they did Leto’s.” The previous Summer Queen. The two had been friends once.

  “Mother,” Elice said as gently as she could. There was still light somewhere inside her mother—there had to be. “Let Chriel publicly apologize and show her support for you. Surely that will weaken your enemies while showing that you can still be merciful.”

  Ilyenna looked away, her jaw tight.

  “I agree,” Otec said.

  “Please.” Elice allowed her desperation to bleed into her voice. “Let this be my gift for the rest of the celebration. You don’t need to get me anything else.”

  Ilyenna took a deep breath and let it out. “Fine. If Chriel will agree to publicly apologize and seal her support for me, I will allow her to live.”

  Elice sagged in relief and covered her mouth with her hand to hide her smile. “Oh, thank you, thank you!” Before she could change her mind, she wrapped her arms around her mother.

  Her mother stiffened before awkwardly patting Elice’s back. Elice didn’t even feel the usual sting of rejection. She whirled around, danced over to her grandfather, and planted a kiss on his sagging cheek. He grunted and mumbled something about not even being allowed to take a nap.

  They sat down at the circular table. Elice ate quickly. Her grandfather asked Ilyenna for updates on the clanlands, about the people and family he’d left behind when he’d come to the queendom to help raise Elice after her father’s death.

  Elice listened to the stories of people she’d never met, but felt she knew all the same. They were her family—cousins from both sides of the family. Even her paternal grandmother was still alive. Though Narium was well into her eighties and practically blind, she still supervised her clan, the Argons, with a firm hand.

  Elice longed to meet them, to feel the grass of the Shyle beneath her feet, to
know what it was like to whisper secrets into the ears of her female cousins or kiss a boy for the first time. She forced the longing away, determined to enjoy a rare moment of having her family together, sharing a meal of meat and blood.

  When they were finished, her grandfather reminded Elice that her gifts from the first day of Winter’s End were in his room. They exchanged gifts for the second day, books and carvings and sculptures. Her mother gave her the long-awaited atlas, drawn by a man named Defendi. Elice flipped through the pages, memorizing the names of cities and towns. She was even surprised to see a rough representation of Svass, with the Winter Queendom nothing more than an impassable border with nothing beyond.

  Wanting to tell Chriel the good news, Elice soon dragged herself away from the atlas, said goodbye to her mother and grandfather, and hustled to the kitchen. She washed the dishes by scouring them out with a blizzard before setting them back on the shelf. Then she wound her way to the back of the palace and down the plain steps that led to the lowest level, one her mother had said was left over from the previous Winter Queen, who had used it as a prison for the fairies who displeased her. Elice and her family used it to store meat, which hung from the ceiling on long chains. She pursed her lips as she wove through dangling, mostly empty chains—she would have to go hunting soon if she was going to have enough meat to feed an extra mouth.

  At the back of the cellar, dozens of iron cages still hung from the ceiling, empty save for one. Two wolverine fairies, all sharp claws and teeth, stood guard on either side. They would be rotated out every few hours or risk becoming sick and weak. They growled and tensed to lunge as Elice came closer.

  Shoulders pricking with the sensation of being watched, she squared her shoulders, trying not to think of the time she’d seen two wolverine fairies tear into each other, leaving one bloody and twitching. “My mother said I could come,” she told the fairies.

  They relaxed, but only slightly. Elice tried to pretend they weren’t there as she stepped closer, peering into the shadows. Chriel was huddled in the center of the first cage, her arms wrapped around her legs, and her chin tucked into her chest. Fairies hated being trapped or underground—hated it almost as much as they hated smoke.