Fairy Queens: Books 5-7

by Amber Argyle

  Lips pressed in a thin line, Elice caught up with the girl. The dry air caught in her throat, making her cough and wish for a drink. They bypassed the front of the main gate that led to the palace’s wide stairs and ornate entrance, and headed for another set of shorter walls with wide-open gates. “This is the temple of the Goddess of Fire. It’s older than the palace. Thanjavar is our holy city.”

  “The city where the War of the Queens started,” Elice said, recalling the stories Chriel had told her.

  Zahra paused. “Yes. And by the Balance, where it ends.”

  Side by side the two young women crossed the gates. Many geometrically shaped fountains decorated the courtyard. People surrounded them, placing something burning in the ashy water. Elice looked closer and saw shapes—seagulls and lions and even a mouse, all made of folds of paper. The air was sharp with a sweet-smelling smoke.

  “Why are they burning them?”

  “So their prayers will be carried up by the smoke,” Zahra answered.

  She and Elice passed through ornate pillars into a cool, cavernous room. There was another enormous pool, the still water dotted with floating, burning paper. An enormous glass idol of a winged woman stood in the center, smoke seeping through the tendrils of her hair. Elice watched in fascination as money was exchanged for paper written on before being twisted and folded into intricate shapes by young girls with quick fingers.

  Zahra and Elice passed another set of stunningly muscled guards and entered a large corridor, their steps echoing off the stone walls. It was cooler here and closed off. The turned left and passed smaller rooms with private pools, and smaller glass idols with curling smoke inside. Elice and Zahra came out into another room that mirrored the first, only with golden columns surrounded by rings of oil, burning wicks trailing out of them. Women of all ages knelt on prayer cushions. Zahra passed everything as if she’d seen such amazing sights every day of her life. Perhaps she had.

  “What is all this?” Elice asked.

  “The Temple of Fire,” the girl answered. “It’s where the priestesses are trained. We write the people’s prayers on paper soaked in incense. We worship the Goddess of Fire.”

  “You mean the Summer Queen,” Elice said darkly.

  Zahra shrugged. “That’s what you call her.”

  They passed through the pivot doors and into another courtyard. On the opposite side was a long building with dozens of closely spaced doors. In the center of the courtyard was another fountain, this one with statues of naked girls frolicking in the water. Neat rows of trees marched up and down the courtyard. Along the left side were dozens of girls Zahra’s age and younger, fighting with wooden swords.

  Zahra paused, watching them intently. “They are the reason he came for you.”

  Elice shot her an uneasy glance before edging forward. As she came closer, she realized there was something very, very wrong with them. One girl had white feathers instead of hair. Another had a golden mane and tail. Yet another had faceted insect eyes.

  Breathing hard, Elice stumbled back. “They’re fairies! They’re all fairies.” She bumped into Zahra and whirled around.

  “No,” Zahra answered. “It’s the magic. My mother says it’s sick, and the sickness is bleeding into those born with the Sight.” Zahra unpinned her veil, revealing scaly skin that was fleshy colored except for a bright red flare at her throat. There were spikes on the side of her neck, with toothlike, downward-curving horns growing from her jaw. “Girls like me.” When she spoke, her mouth was black and fanged and her tongue was long and slitted—that explained the lisp.

  Elice stumbled back. “Your mother?”

  “The Goddess of Fire, Nelay. Adar is my brother.”

  Elice had to close her eyes so she could talk to the girl without screaming. “Are you like them—like the fairies?”

  Zahra sighed. “That’s why I wear the veil, so people don’t look at me the way you just did.”

  Elice felt a surge of guilt and forced herself to open her eyes. After the initial shock and rush of instinctual fear, she realized the girl was just a girl.

  “It started a little over fourteen years ago,” Zahra went on. “I was one of the first born like this. I was lucky—my mother’s status protects me. Not so for the others. Some were killed at birth by their parents or the midwives. Others were named fairy spawn and burned at the temples by terrified citizens. My mother put a stop to it. All the girls come here now. When we go out, we stay fully covered. Only here, behind the temple, do we reveal ourselves.”

  “I’m sorry,” Elice whispered.

  “It’s not all bad. I can sense heat.” The girl pointed to pits on her neck and jaw. “You’re colder than anything else here, like a snake on a cold morning.”

  Elice swallowed hard. “Why did this happen to you?”

  “Because of the Sundering. Adar promised he would find a way to stop it. That’s why he sailed to your queendom. That’s why he brought you here.”

  “But he still tricked me . . . lied to me.”

  Zahra’s expression softened. “Don’t the clanmen having a saying that sometimes you have to lose a lamb to save the flock? Something like that.”

  Elice had heard her grandfather say the exact thing when looking at a drawing of his daughter, her laughing expression, the joy in her eyes. Elice had never seen her mother like that. Never seen her smile so broadly it lit up her whole face. “I’m not a sheep.”

  Zahra studied her. “Which is why he’s still trying to save you.”

  At the top of her tower, Elice stood at the open doorway. Adar sat at the table, a meal spread out before him. She looked him over, noting again how dangerous he looked with sharp, cutting tattoos replacing his soft curls. His hands were fisted on the table as if he expected her to attack.

  But she didn’t want to hurt him anymore. Now she only felt sadness and bitterness toward him. “Are you going to try again to convince me that the Sundering is real?”

  Adar shook his head. “I figure you’ve had enough shocks for today.”

  Elice let out a silent sigh of relief. Any more revelations and she might shatter.

  “Will you eat with me?” he finally asked.

  She sighed and sat down opposite him. There were bowls of golden-yellow soup and a soft, fluffy lump. Both gave off delicious aromas that made Elice’s mouth water. There were berries too—rich-red bumps in a cone shape. Adar had brought her the meal she’d told him about that day in the winter palace. Angry at the tears pricking her eyes, she forced herself to look away.

  He picked up the white lump first. “This is called bread. It’s made from a grain, which is a ground-up seed. It’s soft in the middle and hard on the outside. I brought you some soft cheese to eat with it. There’s also lamb stew. You told me once about how much your grandfather loved lamb stew. This one is probably different from what they make in the clanlands—they have different herbs. This is curry, and it’s a little spicy. It’s my favorite. And last, I bribed a fairy to give us some raspberries. I’ve never tried them either—it’s too hot for them to grow here, and they’re out of season anyway.”

  Elice wiped the tears from her cheeks and forced herself to be strong. “You’re the enemy, Adar, so don’t pretend to be my friend.”

  He took one of the bowls and sipped it, his eyes closing. “First, you taste the curry and the sweetness. A moment later, the lamb. Just when you think you’ve experienced everything, the spice heats up in your mouth.”

  Unable to look away, she watched him take the bread and break it in two. “This”—he shook his half at her—“is different from how we make it, but I convinced one of the cooks to try it the way your grandfather described.” Adar laid a piece of cheese over the bread and took a bite. “It’s not bad. A little dryer than our flatbread, but not bad.” He dipped it in his soup and took another bite. “Oh, that’s better.”

  Elice allowed herself a glance at the berries. Adar hadn’t eaten one. She wondered what price he would pay, what precious
thing he would give up, in exchange for them. She listened to the sounds of him eating, the way he described every bite—creamy and warm and sweet and savory. And she only grew angrier. “Do you think a few kindnesses will make up for your betrayal?”

  Pain flashed across Adar’s face. “I’m not asking you to forgive me. Just eat, you have to be hungry—you’ve barely eaten anything in three days. And then we’ll talk.”

  Despite herself, Elice’s stomach growled. The soup was just sitting there, growing cold. It would be a crime to waste it. Besides, she would need strength to make her escape. She reached out and took the bowl of soup, which was actually cool in her hands. She sipped it, and it was just like Adar described. She wasn’t even sure she liked it—it was so different from the cold, raw meat she was used to. The spice took her by surprise, burning her mouth and making her eyes water.

  She came across a piece of lamb, which was so different from fish. It was more like seal, only stringier and more flavorful. An orchestra played inside her mouth where there had only been a solo. Eagerly, she tried the bread, and the softness shocked her—the way it gummed up in her teeth. She dipped it in the soup and marveled at how something soggy could be so full of flavor.

  Elice saved the berries for last. She rolled them gently around her fingers, noticing how the dozens of tiny globes had formed a soft cone. Unable to resist anymore, she popped a berry into her mouth. The tangy sweetness made her eyes flutter shut, and a little moan escaped her mouth. Embarrassed, she looked over the table to see if Adar had noticed.

  He was watching her. Their eyes met, his silently begging for forgiveness. Something warm and soft spread between them. Elice turned away. She didn’t want to care about him. She wanted to hate him. But her traitor heart wouldn’t cooperate.

  He strode to the other side of the table and picked up a pitcher that was sweating as hard as Elice. He poured thick white cream over the berries and then dusted them with crumbs of sugar. Though she had never seen anything like this, she’d heard her grandfather describe it enough times to know exactly what it was.

  She didn’t want to give Adar the satisfaction of knowing she enjoyed the berries, but she was far more afraid of letting this experience slip past her. After all, it would likely never come again. She filled her spoon with berries and cream and sugar. The first sensation was cold. Next came a sweet creaminess. Then Elice chewed and the sour exploded.

  “They’re opposites,” she murmured. “That’s why they complement each other so well—the sour with the creamy sweetness.” Just like her art—hard with soft, round with sharp, and always in an unexpected way. She finished the bowl leisurely and then hesitated on the last berry, not wanting this moment to end.

  “Elice, some things are going to happen,” Adar began. “But you have to believe me when I tell you that no harm will come to you. I swear it by my own life.”

  She studied the remaining berry, watching as the cream was slowly stained purple and started to curdle. “When my mother comes . . .”

  He opened his mouth to say something, then seemed to think better of it. Instead he explained, “Your mother would have almost no power in the Summer Realm. She would struggle just to fly. She won’t come unless we force her hand.”

  Elice rolled the last berry under her spoon and squished it against the bowl until the juice leaked out. She scraped the ragged remains into her mouth and tried to lose herself in the flavor. But the sweetness was gone, leaving only the sour. “You brought me here so that Nelay could hurt my mother. I will never forgive you for that.”

  “You don’t have to forgive me.” Adar stood. “But I want you to understand why.” He seemed sad as he said it.

  Elice forced herself to meet his gaze. “Your sister and the other girls.”

  “Remember what I asked after we found that flooded village—what would you sacrifice to save the world? Do you remember what you said?”

  She folded her arms across her chest, refusing to answer.

  “That you didn’t know. But I do. Because I’ve been faced with that choice, and I will live with the consequences of that decision.” Adar sighed. “I managed to get permission to show you my home. Will you come?”

  “Nelay trusts me that much?”

  “You’re no threat to us, Elice. Not so far from your powers.”

  She glared at him. “I am trained in the axe, bow, and dagger.” But of course, she had no weapons. And in the Summer Realm, he didn’t need weapons any more than she had needed them in the Winter Queendom.

  Elice huffed and stood, then moved as far from him as possible. They were silent for a time, and she wondered when he’d finally leave her in peace. When Adar finally spoke, his voice almost startled her. “You’ve come all this way, and the Summer Realm waits just beyond the door. Will you not even see it?”

  She wanted to say no, just like she’d wanted to say no to the food he had brought her. But all her life, she’d dreamed of seeing something outside the tiny confines of the queendom. The things she’d spent her whole life building replicas of in ice again and again and again. And besides, if there was a chance at escape, it would help if she knew the layout.

  “What if we call a truce, just for a few hours each day?” Adar suggested. He must have known Elice was wavering. “That way, you can see my world and then go right back to hating me.”

  Too prideful to speak to him, she went to the door and stood with her back to him. She heard his soft steps as he came up behind her. Felt the heat of his body as he reached around her, his hand on the doorknob. He pulled it open and stepped out. She followed him down the stairs and past the guards. He held the outer door open for her and she crossed outside. The massive palace was still a shock to her senses. It seemed somehow more substantial and permanent than the ice walls of her own palace.

  Something light draped across her head, hands brushing her shoulders. She shied away, glaring at Adar, at the silk cloth in his hands. “Elice, this headdress will keep you cool.”

  She drew upon winter, letting the cool settle around her. Gooseflesh rose on his arms. She stared at it, sudden understanding dawning. “If I can draw upon a trick of my magic in the heart of summer, then you could’ve used yours in winter.”

  Adar’s hand fell to his side. “It’s why I survived the sinking ship when none of my shipmates did. And all the times when I was sopping wet and my clothes were frozen to my body. I could even call up a little flame, though I didn’t dare.”

  Feeling betrayed, Elice wrapped her arms around herself and glanced up at the sun hovering eerily in the middle of the sky. “Will it always be this way?” She wasn’t sure if she was talking about the sun or her feeling of betrayal, or both.

  He followed her gaze. “Here, the sun bisects the sky. The heat is worse during midday and better in winter. But it’s always hot.”

  That Adar knew her well enough to guess her thoughts annoyed her. “I should have listened to my mother,” she said.

  Ignoring the comment, he skirted the west side of the palace without looking to see if Elice followed. She considered fleeing back inside the tower, but her feet moved after him, seemingly of their own accord.

  When Adar turned into a smaller, simpler building, Elice hesitated at the darkened doorway. A distinctly animal smell came from inside the building. She stepped slowly forward. Everything was carved from rich, dark wood. Some kind of dried grass at her feet exuded a rich, loamy scent.

  Before her was a long line of gates. One of them was open, and she could hear Adar’s soft murmurs coming from inside. She stepped up beside it to find him putting some contraption into the mouth of a silver horse. The animal was much larger than Elice had expected—larger even than a polar bear. She froze for a moment, for she’d learned that the larger an animal, the more damage it could inflict.

  “She won’t hurt you.” Adar tugged on a bit of leather trailing from the animal’s mouth as she chewed lazily. He opened the gate, and Elice stepped back as the animal came through. She was b
eautiful and graceful and powerful. Elice was too overwhelmed to move.

  Standing in the crook of the horse’s neck, Adar had a hand around the animal’s face, stroking the white markings. “Her name is Star. I trained her myself.”

  Elice found herself reaching toward the mare, who brought her nose closer and puffed moist breath against Elice’s fingers. Then Star shook her head, put her muzzle to the flagstones, and blew. Adar placed a thick pad of wool and then a large leather contraption on the horse’s back while she nibbled at the bits of dried grass she found on the flagstones.

  Elice trailed her fingers across the horse’s coarse mane. Then her fingers slid down Star’s shoulder, which was silky with hard muscles underneath. She circled the animal, touching her, noting the way her hair lay. Star’s flesh trembled when Elice lightly set a hand on her flank, but the horse didn’t seem bothered by her presence.

  Adar finished strapping on the contraption and stepped back. “Time to get on.”

  Elice turned to face him. “You want me to ride her?” The last time she’d tried to ride an animal hadn’t worked out too well for her.

  “I’ve wanted to show you the Summer Realm since the moment I met you. And we have a truce, remember?” He smiled.

  She studied him and noticed the earnestness of his gaze. Her gaze strayed to his head. “What did you do to your hair?” she blurted.

  He rubbed self-consciously at the thin bristling. “Burned it off.”

  Hesitantly, Elice reached out and ran the pads of her fingers along one of the tattooed patterns. Adar held very still and seemed to hold his breath. She stepped back, firmly reminding herself that she hated him. “I don’t like it.”

  His mouth stretched as if he was fighting a smile. “The tattoos tell my life story. Sort of like—”

  “Where’s the line for liar?” she interrupted.