Fairy Queens: Books 5-7

by Amber Argyle

  “I can’t, Adar,” Elice said between the shudders that follow a hard cry.

  He stroked her hair. “Not even to save your grandfather? Your kin in the clanlands?”

  She pulled back to look at him. “My grandfather?”

  Adar opened his mouth, closed it again. “The Sundering could destroy us all.”

  Elice watched him with a furrowed brow. It seemed he’d started to say something else and then changed his mind. But perhaps she was reading too much into it. “You don’t know that for certain,” she said after a pause.

  He let out a long sigh. “I have a gift for you.” Adar held out the flower she had made for him.

  “But I made that for you.”

  “I wanted to give you something equally as powerful—something I hoped you wouldn’t throw away.” A blue flame appeared in the center of the flower, casting cool light over the room. “Like your gift to me, the flame will never go out.” Adar reached out and removed the chain that held her grandfather’s little carving. Then he strung this new flower through it and settled it back around Elice’s neck. “And you will never be in darkness again.”

  Tears sprang to her eyes. “What happens now?” she whispered.

  “Tomorrow, you will meet with my mother before the gathered assembly.”

  “And then?”

  She felt Adar’s muscles tense. “I’ve sworn by the Balance not to tell you, but Elice”—he pulled back and looked into her eyes—“do you trust me?”

  She looked from one of his eyes to the other, trying to read the sincerity of his gaze. His betrayal still stung, but she couldn’t deny that he had done everything he could to protect her. “I want to.”

  “Then trust me when I say that I would give up my life before I would let any harm come to you.”

  Elice stood on the balcony, looking out at the city drenched in the gold of the rising sun. In her hand she clutched the pendants hanging from her neck. Thanjavar was beautiful, she realized. The people were not full of darkness, but neither were they full of light. They had a mix of both, and the one they nurtured was the one that shone through.

  She heard steps behind her and turned to find Cinder with a white dress gathered in her arms. The interlocking patterns of the clans were stitched in gold on the hem. “You know how much I hate white!” Elice joked, trying to lighten the mood like Adar would have, but the words tasted like dust in her mouth.

  “You are a princess of winter,” Cinder replied. “You should look it.”

  “What fabric?”

  “Silk.” She helped Elice slip the dress over her head. It fluttered around her ankles like a spider web and felt as light as sunrays. She paused before the nightstand to take the half-beaver carving and tuck it firmly into her pocket. When she finished tying her gold-embroidered belt, Cinder had returned with a chest. She set it on a table and opened it. Inside were glittering jewels set in gold.

  Elice pulled out a headdress of gold woven in the interlocking knots of the clanlands. There was a large, oval opal for her forehead. Elice fingered the headdress, realizing how much it resembled the one she’d left in the Winter Queendom, though this one was even more delicate.

  “How did you know?” Elice asked.

  Cinder shrugged. “I didn’t.”

  Then Elice recognized the opal. She’d seen it in the jeweler’s shop the day Adar had taken her to the market. She lifted the headdress and settled it onto her head. Cinder left Elice’s hair long and wavy, with gold and jewels dangling from it. Once Cinder finished, Elice wandered over to a mirror. She certainly looked like a princess.

  A knock sounded at the door in the other room. “It’s time to go, Princess,” called a voice she didn’t recognize.

  Elice started and backed away, then rushed into the bathroom and vomited the light supper she’d eaten earlier. When she’d spit the last of the bitter bile into the bowl, she rested her head on the cool marble tiles.

  Cinder stood at the door. “Elice?”

  She closed her eyes. “There are more days in a month than people I have actually spoken to. Now Nelay wants to present me before some crowd. She will use me as bait to trap my mother. And I don’t know if she will hurt me.” Perhaps more painful than all of that was Adar’s betrayal. So painful that Elice couldn’t even find the words to say it.

  Cinder’s feet made padding sounds as she entered the room. She knelt next to Elice and gently placed her hand on Elice’s side. “When my grandmother was seventeen, she was taken as a slave by the Idarans and sold into a brothel. It should have broken her—she was meant to be broken. But she never forgot who she was, and she didn’t let me forget, either. You are a clanwoman, and you are your mother’s daughter. Never forget that.”

  When Elice still didn’t move, Cinder sighed. “The Idarans believe you cannot directly control the field or the players on it, but you can manipulate them. The field has already been set, Elice, and you’re going to have to learn to play the game of fire with a new set of rules and a different set of players.”

  Elice wanted to rail against her, wanted to scream that this was not some game, but a small part of her realized the truth to the other woman’s words. A glittering, bitter cold washed through Elice. When she opened her eyes, frost fell around them, catching the light like a thousand sparks while Cinder watched in amazement. “I’ve always wanted to see snow.”

  Not bothering to correct the other woman, Elice pushed herself up. Her hands left damp prints on the frosty floor. That much power should have encased the room in ice, brought forth a blizzard with the power to bury an entire city. But with her eyes half closed, the falling frost could almost be mistaken for snow. That and Cinder’s words brought a memory upon her.

  It was the winter before Elice’s father had died. He’d crouched before her, snow swirling gently around him. Her mother had circled them, her feet leaving a tamped down trail around them while she effortlessly negated any attempts Elice made to use her power.

  Without winter, she was forced to fight hand-to-hand against her father, who was bigger and more experienced and so much stronger. He pinned her again and again and again, until she shouted, “What does it matter? If I ever have to fight in this cursed war, I’ll just freeze them to death!”

  Her mother paused in her circling. “And if ever you have to fight someone from the Summer Realm—if you ever face Nelay herself—your powers will be canceled out by hers.” Elice saw her mother’s dark frustration. Even at thirteen, Elice knew the two queens were so well matched that one might never defeat the other.

  “Fighting isn’t just about strength and experience—it’s about your mind,” her father added, ever the patient one. “You have to think, Elice. Have to outsmart your opponent. See the patterns in their movements and be ready to shift your strategy in a split second.”

  Elice dropped her head. “Strong as stone, supple as a sapling.”

  Her father had rested a heavy hand on her shoulder. “And more cunning than a queen.”

  Now, Elice’s hand touched the belt, where the knife Storm had given her was carefully tucked away. Elice might not have access to her powers over winter, but she wasn’t powerless. She could find a way to protect herself. She was, after all, her mother’s daughter. The other players of the game might have more strength than she did, but she could manipulate them. She just had to figure out how.

  Flanked by a pair of guards in vests and wide-legged pants, Elice and Cinder moved down a spiral staircase. At the bottom stood another set of guards who made no move to stop them. Elice stared at the palace towering above her. She didn’t know what awaited her beyond it, but at least she would face it as a princess instead of a captive. She pulled out her necklace so the pendants would be visible.

  “Thank you,” she said softly to Cinder. “For everything.” She started to walk, surprised when the woman continued by her side.

  Cinder smiled. “You didn’t think I’d let you face this alone.”

  Elice knew she couldn’t fu
lly trust Cinder, but neither did she consider her an enemy. “Can you come with me?”

  “You’d be surprised what the queen’s favorite seamstress gets away with.”

  The enormous palace loomed before them, a monstrosity of carved marble topped with golden onion domes. Elice and Cinder followed the guards up a wide set of stairs and approached enormous doors with phoenixes etched on the front and overlaid with beaten gold. More guards swung open the doors.

  Elice froze. The way was kept clear by soldiers standing shoulder to shoulder, their faces stiff and unmoving. But behind the soldiers was an entire assemblage of Idarans, all with their dark features and foreign clothes. Silence rang like a struck tine, as if moments before the doors had opened the noise in the room had been deafening. At the end of the long line of soldiers, three thrones rested on a dais.

  Thinking of the man who had attacked her with a knife, of his blood spilling into the street, Elice wanted nothing more than to run. “Why are there so many people here?” she asked in a hushed whisper.

  Cinder leaned in. “Nelay may be an immortal, but she isn’t invulnerable. Nor is her family. She needs the goodwill of the people. That means letting them see her triumphs.”

  Capturing me is the triumph, Elice realized. She glanced up, and her gaze landed first on Adar. She sucked in a breath to see him in such splendor, wearing bell-shaped trousers and a richly embroidered vest. A golden phoenix with spread wings dominated the banister above his head. Next to him was his mother, Nelay. Rycus sat beside her. Elice wondered where all of Adar’s brothers and sisters were.

  Cinder nodded to about two hundred women wearing bell-shaped trousers and fitted bodices. They seemed to be divided into two groups—one a mix of grown women, the other a mix of young women and girls. Elice thought she recognized Zahra’s figure, but it was hard to tell with the robes. There was a proud tilt to the women’s heads, and the way they held themselves bespoke grace and power.

  “Priestesses,” Cinder murmured. “The most powerful in the kingdom. Their High Priestess has almost as much power as Queen Parisa. Most of them can see the fairies.”

  Elice started. “So it is rare to see the fairies?”

  Cinder raised a single brow. “There are very few who can see the world for what it is. Thankfully, I’m not one of them.” She nodded to their right toward a group of older men and a few women. “The rest are lords, advisors, and professional guild leaders.” Elice noticed most of them wore long robes, and scarfs wrapped around their heads.

  She sensed something high above her and glanced up to see a wide walkway spanning the length of the room. Without any visible means to support itself, the walkway appeared as if it might collapse on top of Elice. Shaking the thought from her head, she turned her attention back to the three royals. She kept her gaze locked on the queen, refusing to acknowledge Adar at all as she and Cinder came to a halt just before the dais.

  A herald’s voice rang out with startling volume. “Elice, daughter of Ilyenna, who is Goddess and Queen of Winter.”

  In the silence that followed the pronouncement, Elice felt the sweat building on her skin even though she was surrounding herself with cold. She studied this queen—the woman who’d stolen her away from her dreams and locked her in a tower.

  “Daughter of winter, is it true that you love my son?”

  Elice’s eyes widened and her mouth fell open, but no words came out. She hadn’t been sure what to expect, but it was not this. She glanced helplessly at Adar, silently begging him to help her. He seemed to be trying to communicate something with his expression, but she couldn’t understand.

  “Why would you ask me this?” Elice finally said.

  Nelay leaned back in her chair. “It is a simple question. Do you, or do you not, love my son?”

  Elice wet her lips. “Why does it matter?”

  Nelay’s eyes glittered in the dark. “Right now, it’s all that matters.”

  Elice’s gaze swept over the room. Every eye was locked on her. She glanced down, staring at the mosaic on the floor—thousands and thousands of tiles that blurred together in an unrecognizable shape. Then she heard movement. She glanced up to see that Adar had risen from his throne and now descended the steps toward her.

  “Adar—” Nelay said in a tone of warning.

  He paused before Elice and took both of her hands in his. “I love you, Elice. You say you spent months in the darkness. So did I. It wasn’t until I found you that I understood what true light is. For even in the darkness, you flourished. Like the prisms you made, you took what little light you were given and magnified it a hundred times, but with bursts of color.” He reached up to cradle her cheek in his hand. “You add color to my life. And I would not part from you. Not ever.”

  He leaned forward and gently pressed his lips against hers. Elice forgot the crowds. Forgot the king and queen. There was only the warmth of Adar’s kiss and his words, flooding out the doubts and fears, settling around her.

  He pulled back, his gaze locked on hers. “Do you love me?”

  “Yes.” The word came easily, slipping from her mouth on a breath. For if she was a prism, he was the light that sparked through her.

  Adar’s smile grew until his whole face lit up with joy. “Thank you.” He turned triumphantly to his mother. “I bargained for her life and won. Now you must let her live.”

  Elice gasped. “You mean if I hadn’t said yes, she would have killed me?”

  Adar squeezed her hand without looking at her. “I wouldn’t have let that happen,” he murmured.

  Nelay watched them from her place on the throne. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Very well, my son. I will let her live. But there is still the price you must pay.”

  “Adar!” Elice whispered. “You made a deal with her. You can’t—you—”

  “It’s already done,” Adar said before turning back to his mother. “I’m ready.”

  “The Balance is exacting, Son. Light and dark. Good and evil. Men and women. And in the end a life was spared, so another must be taken.”

  Adar closed his eyes. “I know”

  Elice couldn’t catch her breath. The room and all the people and the all guards with all their expressionless faces spun around her. She gripped Adar’s vest. His hands came up and held her elbows, keeping her steady. “It will be all right,” he told her.

  Furious, Elice turned to the queen. “How can you do this? He’s your son!”

  Nelay clenched her jaw. “This was the only way—a life for a life.”

  “Elice, I made my choice,” Adar said from behind her. “I knew the price. I paid it anyway.”

  She gripped his vest harder, crushing the embroidery beneath her fists. For days her heart had been shattered at his betrayal. Now she knew he had never betrayed her. He loved her. And she was going to lose him. He brushed back a lock of her hair. “You saved my life so many times, Elice. Now let me save yours.”

  He was just going to accept this? Accept dying and leaving her alone in this strange place, surrounded by her enemies? “No! I can’t. I won’t!”

  “Elice—”

  She pushed away from Adar and staggered toward the throne. Guards moved to intercept her, but Nelay held out a staying hand.

  “Ask another price,” Elice pled, standing before the Summer Queen. “Anything. But don’t take him.”

  “I didn’t set the price, child. The Balance did.”

  “But he’s your son!”

  “And he made his choice.”

  Elice’s knees buckled and she hit the floor. She stared at the tiles beneath her, noticing they were bigger than she was, with darker veins running through the white, cool marble, which was polished to a shine so she could see her blurred shape, eyes wide, face bone-white. It was almost like ice.

  Like . . . ice . . .

  Tears blurred her vision. Around her fingers, swirls of frost spread out, curling protectively around her. In her desperation, she’d opened up her connection to winter so w
ide she thought it might kill her. But still, there was not enough power to do any damage. Cries of concern edged up from the crowd behind her, but the royals didn’t seem afraid. “Please, I’m begging you,” Elice said to the queen.

  Nelay’s gaze was unreadable. “Take her back to her tower and keep her there.”

  The guards started toward Elice. She staggered to her feet and pushed at one, but they gripped her under her arms and held her.

  “Just let her go!” Adar cried. “Let her be free. Please, Mother.”

  “You bargained for her life, not her freedom, Adar.” Nelay motioned to another set of guards. One of them drew his sword and started toward Adar.

  “No!” Cinder screamed and lunged at one of them, but another guard snatched her, pinning her arms to her sides.

  “Will you kneel on your own, Son?” Nelay asked without emotion. “Or will you be bound?”

  Adar glanced back at Elice, his eyes full of love and sorrow. He nodded to her and then slowly got to his knees, his head bowed.

  “Rycus! Stop her! Stop this!” Elice cried. But Adar’s father only shot a nervous glance at his wife and remained silent. “Please!” Elice begged the guards who stood over him. “He’s your prince! You know this is wrong!” But none of them would look at her. One of the guards raised his sword and poised it above Adar’s neck.

  “Another bargain!” Elice screamed. “My life for his! Please!”

  “Stop!” Nelay’s hand whipped up, palm out. The man with the sword paused.

  “No, Elice, not after everything we’ve been through,” Adar cried.

  “My life for his.” Elice spoke over him, her gaze locked on the queen. “Please.”

  Nelay sat back in her chair. “You really do love him, don’t you?”

  Tears filled Elice’s eyes. “Yes.”

  Nelay nodded thoughtfully. “So you wish to take on his bargain?”