Fairy Queens: Books 5-7

by Amber Argyle

  Adar was shouting now, the guards holding him back. Elice ignored him, her gaze solely focused on the queen. “Yes.”

  “A life for a life,” Nelay murmured. “You accept these terms?”

  “Yes,” Elice said without hesitation. The air seemed to tighten around her like invisible bonds as the bargain was made.

  Nelay sat back on her throne and motioned to the guards still holding Elice. “Very well, child. But the life I require is not yours.”

  “What?” Elice blurted. Adar stopped struggling and stared at his mother suspiciously.

  Nelay pushed herself up from her throne. “You have bargained for his life, Elice, daughter of winter. And I have granted it. The price you must pay is this—you will destroy the Queen of Winter.”

  Elice made a squeaking sound, and her body went limp as though every bone had been crushed. The bargain had been sealed by the Balance. It would come to pass now regardless of what she might do to change it.

  “You planned this all along, Mother,” Adar said darkly. “You knew she would offer herself for me.”

  Nelay sighed. “If Elice truly loved you, she would sacrifice herself for you, just as you tried to do for her. That’s what real love does. If not, she never really loved you at all and her execution would be set.”

  Adar struggled to be free of the guards, but they held him fast. One man struggled to put a manacle around the prince’s wrist. “You never wanted my bargain—it was Elice you were after all along!”

  “I’m sorry.” His mother seemed to truly mean it.

  “I won’t go back,” Elice said through gritted teeth. “I’ll never see her again. And I’d kill myself before I ever hurt her.”

  Nelay regarded Elice sadly, and it seemed as if a great weight pressed down upon the Summer Queen, so heavy it almost crushed her for a moment. Her husband reached out and took her hand in his. Nelay seemed to draw strength from his grasp, for she inhaled deeply and straightened. “The Balance will see it is done.” She motioned to her guards. “Take her back to the Winter Realm and let her go. Her mother will find her, or she will find her mother. Eventually.” Nelay turned to leave.

  “You sent Adar after me!” Elice shouted. “You tricked us both!”

  Nelay turned back slightly. “I merely took the players and situations on the field and found a way to make them work to my advantage. It’s what I do.” She didn’t say it proudly. More like it was a heavy burden to bear.

  The guards started dragging Elice away.

  Strong as stone, more supple than a sapling. The words came forcefully into Elice’s mind. “And more cunning than a queen,” she murmured to herself. She dropped, painfully yanking one arm free. She reached behind her clan belt, took the knife Storm had given her, and plunged it into the arm of the other guard holding her. He yelped, his grasp slackening. Elice wrenched the knife out of his arm and darted back toward the queen, then planted her feet and threw the dagger. Guards surged toward Elice, but she only watched the dagger, spinning end over end until it lodged up to the hilt in the center of Nelay’s back. The queen crumpled.

  Elice only had time for the barest of grim smiles before a guard plowed into her, slamming her so hard into the marble that her shoulder screamed in pain. She craned her head up, staring at Nelay.

  Fire danced across the ground, rippling like water and melting the metal dagger. Blood gushed from the wound. “I can’t move my legs!” Nelay cried as her husband reached for her.

  Elice had severed her backbone. She’d healed enough animals to know that none survived a broken back.

  A life for a life. If any life would pay the debt, why not Nelay’s?

  Adar saw the dagger hit his mother’s back. He whipped his head around and caught sight of Elice trapped in a guard’s arms, dark satisfaction in her gaze. Out of her line of vision, another guard raised his sword to strike her dead.

  Adar reacted instantly, fire springing from his body. The guards holding him shouted and jumped back, their skin blistering. The guards around Elice became living pyres that screamed and clawed at their skin as if to pull off the fire. More guards rushed them. Adar lit every one of them on fire.

  Then he dashed to Elice and took hold of her hand, knowing his fire wouldn’t burn her if he didn’t wish it to. Carefully, he encircled them in a different kind of fire—the same smokeless fire that made up his mother’s wings. The halo of writhing flames felt like an extension of his own body.

  The soldiers backed steadily away from the blaze, their commanders shouting at them to charge. A handful of soldiers tested the flames, and after their hands came away unhurt, the men charged.

  “Don’t!” Jezzel cried out. But it was too late. The soldiers’ eyes went wide, their mouths gasping for breath. The flames did not burn, but they did smother. No one within the flames’ reach could breathe, unless that person was touching Adar or his mother.

  “Adar,” Jezzel said. “Release them!”

  Choking, the guards stumbled toward the open air. Adar’s gut twisted, but he widened the perimeter, trapping the soldiers. “Let us go and I’ll free them.”

  Jezzel stood over Adar’s mother, blood dripping from her hands. She frowned but gave a curt nod. Adar retracted his fire, but he didn’t extinguish it. Jezzel might be the commander of Idara’s armies, but she was not above the law. And Elice had broken the highest of laws.

  Adar pivoted, then hurried toward the west wing of the palace, Elice in tow. He kept his head up, looking for any dangers as the nimbus flared around them, driving away everyone before it.

  “What is this?” Elice asked.

  “We have to hurry.” If his mother regained consciousness, she’d extinguish the flames. Holding Elice’s hand, Adar pulled her along through the empty corridors of the palace. Their steps echoed off the hard floor. He shoved open the doors to the dungeons and, with Elice clinging to his hand, descended into the damp dark that smelled of sulfur and minerals.

  “Where are we going?” she said from behind him.

  “We’ll never punch our way out of the city, even with my fire.” Adar sent out a nimbus of blue fire that perfectly matched the fire in Elice’s pendant. The nimbus illuminated the steps that led to a long tunnel lined with empty cells, the bars rusted. Suddenly the way opened to an enormous cavern. Adar sent the light up and intensified it. Jagged shadows elongated around them, clustering around the base.

  But Adar could see the tunnel he was looking for. “It’s an old luminash mine,” he explained as they ran. “The temple was built here because of the proximity to the mines. The palace came later.”

  “Why doesn’t the weight of the palace collapse the mine?” Elice managed to ask.

  “The palace isn’t built over it—the back gardens are.” They reached the mouth of the tunnel. Adar extinguished the nimbus of fire and formed another before them. He kept it far enough away not to blind them, yet close enough to light their path as they ran headlong. Finally, they came upon what appeared to be a pile of rubble. Adar ran his hands along the surface.

  “We’re trapped,” Elice cried. “You must have picked the wrong tunnel.”

  “All tunnels that lead to or from the palace were sealed up a long time ago.” Adar finally found what he was searching for. He grasped the handhold, braced himself, and heaved. The pivot door opened, revealing more tunnel beyond. He shot Elice a grin over his shoulder. “You’re not the only one who thinks secret passageways are a good idea.”

  She reached out to touch the door.

  “It is plaster over wood,” he explained, “but the men I hired did a good job making it look like the rocks around it.” He turned and started jogging on.

  “What were you afraid of?”

  Although Adar didn’t want to tell Elice the truth, it would be better than keeping secrets from her. “Your mother,” he said. “I wanted a way to get my brothers and sisters out if she attacked the palace.”

  “If it was for your brothers and sisters, Adar, your family has to kn
ow it’s there.”

  He set his mouth. “They do.”

  “So it’s only a matter of time before they realize where we’ve gone.”

  “Right now, we’re running from Idaran law more than my family.”

  For a time, there was only the sound of their footfalls, their ragged breathing. There were some twists and turns. A few times Adar had to pause and study the markings painted on the sides of the tunnels. He kept a hard pace. After all, if he and Elice didn’t disappear by the time the city guard came after them, it was over.

  Finally, he stopped at one of the ladders. The tunnel continued on, but it wasn’t maintained and Adar didn’t know what lay beyond. He went up the ladder and found himself in a tack room. He pushed open the trapdoor, scattering hay and dirt that plumed up as the door landed with a crash.

  He reached down and hauled Elice up just as the door to the room came open. The old man who stood there had a sword in hand, but he immediately sheathed it and bowed. “My prince, the gates of the city have been shut and there are soldiers on the parapets. What has happened?”

  Adar thought quickly. Fleeing on horseback would be quicker and more nimble, but Elice didn’t have the skills to ride. “We need a chariot,” he told the old man. “And as many supplies as can be swiftly carried. When you’re done with that, you and your men pair up, cover yourselves from head to toe, and scatter with the remaining chariots.”

  “But, sir, what if the rest of your family needs passage through—”

  “That is an order,” Adar growled.

  “Stay here, my prince.” The man spun on his heel and was gone.

  “Where are we?” Elice asked as voices rose from beyond the wall.

  Adar threw open a trunk labeled with the numeral 1. Inside was a variety of clothing and an array of weapons. He pulled out what he needed and donned the tan desert robes over his vest and pants. “When Thanjavar was sacked by the clanmen, my mother and what little remained of her people were trapped inside the palace walls. She thought it prudent to open a tunnel under the palace in case we ever had to get out. She secretly set up this waystation with supplies.”

  “Adar, your mother—”

  “She’ll be fine,” he snapped. He opened the chest next to his, this one labeled with the number 2. He gathered up robes and daggers and pushed them into Elice’s arms. “Nahid’s robes should fit you.”

  He opened a secret panel, revealing an assortment of weapons, and took down a crossbow—he was terrible with a bow. When he turned back, he found Elice staring at the clothes as if she didn’t know what to do with them. “Elice, you have to hurry.”

  She looked up at him, tears shining in her eyes. “Adar—I killed her.”

  Was that why she was being so withdrawn? “No, you didn’t.”

  Elice hugged the stale-smelling robes to her chest. “The knife hit her spine. She won’t survive that.”

  Adar pried the robes from her hands and settled them around her shoulders. “She will. Jezzel has refused her elice petal, so there’s still one left.”

  “You mean I didn’t kill your mother?”

  He paused and looked at Elice, feeling like he was being torn in two. She’d tried to kill his mother—and would have succeeded if not for the elice blossom. But in her position, he had done the same. He tied the belt around Elice’s waist and stepped back. “Do you really want her dead?”

  “Do you want my mother dead?”

  It was a fair question, but Adar didn’t answer it. Instead, he reached into the second chest, pulled out a headscarf, and tossed it to Elice. “Put this on like Cinder showed you. Cover your face so only your eyes show. The fairies will have lost us in the tunnels. When they find us, they’ll report our location back to my mother, who will be honor bound to tell the city guards.” He tipped his head toward the wall of weapons. “Take anything you want.”

  Then he stepped out of the tack room and into the barn, which was manned by twelve men, all of them retired from the military due to injuries. The men had already prepared Adar’s chariot. Four more were in various states of readiness, each pulled by a pair of swift desert horses bred for endurance. Packed in the chariots’ bases were sacks of rations.

  Adar stepped into the first chariot and took the reins in his hands. He turned as Elice, completely covered by the robes, climbed up beside him. He looked back at the men. “Draw away any attention and keep your identities hidden.” The men would know what else to do—they’d been trained for this.

  Adar slapped the reins across the horse’s backs, urging them down the road that led away from the city. At the first decent road to the west, he turned toward the Razorback Mountains rising in the distance, while the other men continued on. They would split up later, taking main roads that led away from the city.

  Adar looked back at Thanjavar. The setting sun lit up the gold onion domes of the palace. The gates were shut, and though he was too far away to spy them, he knew soldiers patrolled the wall. Adar wondered if he’d ever see his home again, or feel the cool embrace of the caves in the Adrack Desert. Ever see his brother and sisters.

  All through the day, Elice watched the landscape blur past, with villages that thinned and grew progressively poorer and more run down. When night fell, Adar slowed the horses and started up a canyon that took them on a twisting path between ever-larger bare mountains, with only an occasional scrubby tree or some brush breaking up the stony ground. Soon, Elice’s view of the stars was sliced into angles by the rise of the mountains. Somehow she finally managed to sit down. But with the chariot rattling her brains out of her ears, she couldn’t sleep.

  Morning came on, cold and silent. In an exhausted daze, Elice kept reliving the memory of her knife spinning into Nelay’s back. Of the curse the Summer Queen had laid upon her. Elice wasn’t even sure what Adar thought running would accomplish. Even with the decoy chariots he had sent out, Nelay was sure to find them soon—she had too many fairy spies for them to avoid detection for long.

  Just before mid-afternoon, Adar pulled the horses to a stop and looked down at Elice. “Time to get out.” She wiped her eyes. It was strange to cry and have her tears not freeze on her cheeks. He crouched beside her and must have seen her tears. “Elice?”

  “She cursed me to kill my own mother.”

  Adar’s hands encircled her upper arms. “You can’t kill her if you never see her again.”

  “But the Balance—”

  “We’ll find a way.”

  A part of Elice didn’t believe him, but she firmly ignored that part. “How long before Nelay wakes?”

  “Soon.” He stepped down from the chariot. “She won’t interfere with the bounty hunters that will be sent after us. She can’t—her alliance with Idara is too important.”

  Thinking of the man who’d been beheaded, Elice shuddered. She unfolded herself, moved stiffly out of the chariot, and looked around. They were in some kind of abandoned village. Most of the roofs were gone, and some of the walls had tipped over or crumbled altogether. The place had long ago returned to the embrace of nature, the mountain reclaiming it as its own.

  Elice lifted a hand to shield her sunburned face from the rays beating down on her. “Is it wise to stop? I mean, shouldn’t we keep running—try to stay ahead of them?”

  Adar was already backing the chariot into the gap left by a crumbled wall. “It would be suicide to push through the midday heat. Better to hide out now and move at night to conserve water until we reach the river.”

  “That’s where we’re headed? The river?”

  Adar nodded. “See if you can find us somewhere protected to sleep.”

  Elice peered uneasily into a dark doorway. Inside, windows let in shafts of sunlight over sandy floors. If there had ever been furniture or bedding, time had long since turned them to dust. All that lingered now was the broken-down walls. She wondered what had happened to the people who had lived here. Why had they left, never to return?

  The third building was cone shaped, so
the roof was still intact. Elice had to crawl through the low doorway. Her fire pendant slipped out from her robes and offered just enough light to reveal scattering mice. She backed outside and turned to find Adar unhitching the horses.

  “This should work,” she called to him. He nodded as he buckled leather bonds around the horse’s front legs. “What are you doing?”

  He glanced at her. “They need to graze while we sleep. Hobbling them will keep them from going too far and allow us to catch them again.”

  She looked at the barren hills. “Graze on what?” He shrugged. “But what if wild animals attack them? They can’t run.”

  He picked up the sack of provisions from where he’d set them on the ground. “Then they’ll die.”

  Elice watched the horses lift their hobbled front legs and lunge forward to reach more grass. “I feel sorry for them.”

  Adar slipped past her, then crouched to step into the building. “An old smokehouse. Perfect. Too bad it doesn’t come with a nice smoked ham.” Elice didn’t know what a smokehouse was, and she was too tired to ask. She crawled in after him.

  He turned to stare at the opening, one hand raised. Even as she watched, smoke appeared on his palm in a thousand different shades of gray and brown. He chose each one, mostly tans, and wove them together over the opening, creating a wavering, self-sustaining smoke screen. When he was finished, it looked like a wall of old bricks. Elice could see the outlines of the world outside, but just barely.

  “I didn’t know you could do that.” She moved to touch the smoke wall and then paused, shooting Adar a questioning look. He nodded. Her hand passed through, smoky curls spinning away from her touch. When she pulled back, the image reformed.

  “It wouldn’t fool a person, but the fairies have no eye for such things.” He gestured with a hand. “We can see out because of the sunlight, but they won’t be able to see in. As long as I keep my connection open to summer, it will remain until I dispel it.”

  In awe, Elice studied him. “What else can you do?”