The smell of dried blood and dead flesh wafted through the tent. Mother breathed it in like a sweet elixir. She pointed to the table. One plate sat on the silk tablecloth. I set the heart down and stepped back, offering her a sharp grin. She didn’t notice. Her attention was fixed on the heart.
She sat down and picked up her fork and knife. It looked far too normal for the macabre reality of what was happening. She sat with perfect poise and manners as she sliced through the heart. The blood had clotted and it jelled at the bottom of the plate. She cut off a miniscule bite, and brought it to her lips.
The air was too thick to breathe.
Chapter Fourteen
Snow
I opened my eyes to a dim room and a curtain-draped roof. Everything was muffled, as if I were underwater. The scent of roses wafted over me, their cloying aroma overwhelming and carrying a sharp copper bite. I felt something soft beneath me, something that felt like silk against my calloused fingertips.
A wave of dull pain hit me. Everything hurt, and my legs and arms felt leaden. I couldn’t move. For some reason that didn’t scare me. Everything had the foggy look of a dream. Maybe it was a dream. Threads of thought seemed to wave above me, but I couldn’t grasp them. There were scrambled images. Blue eyes, purple veins, and apples . . . my throat tightened in panic. Air, no air . . . I couldn’t breathe or speak. My lips parted reluctantly, my mouth dry. I sucked air in. The glossy sheen that cloaked everything dissipated.
Dripping lips. Poison. He had poisoned me!
I gagged at the image, the horrible kiss, the loss of control. My fingers tightened around the edge of the pillows, and my knuckles hit something cold and hard. I eased my head over. Movement was difficult. I felt too light for my body. My head lolled over, and I saw the clear side of a glass box.
Nothing made any sense. I willed my numb limbs to move. A cold thought rose: Did they think I was dead? At a movement of shadow my heart jumped. I pushed my fingers against the cold glass sides and tried to use it to haul myself up.
The face cleared as candlelight hit it and familiar blue eyes met mine. Cynfael brought a cigarette to his lips and lit it. He shook his head at me, his gaze darting to the side.
A flash of red startled me. I stopped moving, frozen with horror. My hands were splattered with . . . with . . . I spread my sticky fingers. Blood! My chest heaved. Whose blood? I sat upright, gasping deep terrified breaths. It was all over me, my chest, neck, and arms. My blood. A scream tore from my throat.
Cynfael stood a few feet away from me, cold fear in his face. He looked to one side, and I followed his gaze to two figures at a table, one seated, one standing. They were cloaked in shadows.
A heavy silence hung in the air.
Then someone clapped. Slow, mocking. Cynfael cringed at the sound. His hand shook as he brought the cigarette back to his mouth.
“Bravo!” a lilting female voice rang out. The seated figure stood and moved past the other shadow, still applauding as she walked into the light. I caught my breath at the sight of her. Madame—pale, flawless skin complemented by thick golden hair, which flowed around a delicate face with high cheekbones and deep sapphire eyes. She looked expensive—her dress woven from silk and embellished with a hundred, a thousand pearls. It hugged her frame and slipped around her feet, catching the light as she moved.
Cynfael stiffened as she approached, his shoulders too straight.
“You have a spine after all, Chayse.” Her words were chilling, her eyes captivating and fierce with black and gold paint twisted around them.
When Madame said his name, I felt hope and confusion surge through me. Knowing he was here made my breath hitch. I still didn’t know what to think of the fact that he wasn’t human. That he was supposed to kill me. None of it seemed to matter, not anymore.
I whispered his name, hoping he would hear and help me.
She wanted my blood, my heart. That was all I knew. I pressed my hands to my chest. Though covered in a layer of blood, I was unharmed, which only added to my confusion.
I stared into the shadows, unable to tell if Chayse was truly there, if he was looking back.
Madame turned, glancing back over her shoulder. “I didn’t think you’d even consider betraying me.” She looked at me again; her kohl-lined eyes appraised me. Her mouth twisted into a cutting smile. “Especially not for a human.”
Chayse said nothing in my defense or his.
“I could have gotten you a dozen just like her.” Madame glided up to me, tilting her head. “You forfeited your life for this.” She laughed, a melodious contradiction to her dire words.
Scraping her nail across my neck, she flecked off the dried blood. My body trembled under her critical contemplation. “What did you cover her in?” She licked her finger. “Pig blood.” She turned and faced Cynfael. “Did you have to kill it for him?”
Cynfael took a drag of his smoke but didn’t answer. His eyes glinted with defiance.
Madame smirked. “What did you think was going to happen?” Her claw-like nails tapped her lip. “I’d fall for the ruse, and you’d save the girl? Then what? You’d flee, all of you, with a price on your heads.”
She crept up to Cynfael, looking every bit the predator. “Even if the three of you got away, what would that make you?” She caught his hand. “She’s Chayse’s prize. It’s not like he would share,” she purred, leaning in closer than propriety would allow.
Cynfael swallowed but revealed no other reaction.
She stepped away from him. “Did you really think pig blood would satiate me?”
Chayse stepped out of the shadows. His green eyes looked like flickering flames. He tilted his head, and I could see the strong resemblance he bore to her. They had the same bearing, his lacking only her malice.
“You’ll be happy to hear, Mother, that you have this all wrong.” He strode up to her, his eyes flashing brighter with each step. “You’ve held control of the board for so long, you didn’t stop to think that anyone might stand against you, that you could be replaced.”
“Replaced?” Madame held her hands out and gave a light laugh. “Your trick failed.”
Chayse smiled a cold, cruel smile. “This wasn’t a trick. I wanted you to see her.” He stepped closer, pushing her back. “I wanted you to see that your assassination was done using a human. A pathetic, weak human. How is that for irony, Mother?”
Her smile slipped, her eyes darting around in sudden uncertainty. “My assassination, darling? I’m still alive.”
Chayse glanced at Cynfael. “It’s not that difficult. The heart.”
Her hand shook, but she firmed her jaw.
“It was poisoned.”
A sharp silence followed his proclamation.
I sucked in a breath.
Her hands went to her throat, nails scraping her ivory skin. Panic seeped into her rigid face. She opened her mouth.
“It’s too late,” Chayse said, his voice softening. “Even if you could expel it, the poison has already taken effect.” He pointed to her neck. A purple vein marred her perfect skin. The poison was spreading, coursing through her body.
She rushed to her mirror and inspected the mark. “You killed me, Chayse,” she breathed. Then she turned, clenching her hands into fists. “Your mother.”
Chayse didn’t take the bait. “I think we can both agree the only kindness you ever did was bear me.” He looked down. “Even that, I’m sure, was entirely for your own benefit.” He spoke in a voice filled with hardened pain.
The poison pulsing through her veins hit her face. She swayed but managed to stay standing. “If you’re expecting an apology, I think we are both past that.” Breathing hard, she moved back to the table and grabbed her glass. “I never hid my indifference to you, Chayse. In fact, I never hid anything from you.” She took a long swig of champagne before leveling her rigid stare at her son. “My mistake.”
Chayse just stood there, unspoken misery shining in his eyes.
Madame gave a mirthless
laugh. “The world is cruel, and I needed you to be a fighter.” Her hand clenched on the slender glass. “Of course you would choose now to have a spine.”
“It was you who raised the stakes,” Chayse said, his tone morose.
More darkness spread across her face. She shuddered and glanced back at the mirror. Her face crumpled as she saw her own ruin. With a trembling finger she traced the angry lines on her face. “She was the last one . . .”
A tear dropped onto her cheek, trailing sooty black makeup. Her hand rose in a fierce arc. The glass flew through the air, sparkling in the light, and shattered the mirror with a splintering crack, followed by a flood of glass.
“How could you do this to me?” she growled, whirling on Chayse and clutching his arm.
Chayse reacted as if he had been slapped. My body tensed as she touched him. She flung him at the table, a dull crack sounded as his head hit wood. Madame looked at him with pure disgust. Something told me this wasn’t the first time she had hurt her son.
Her venomous stare turned and fixed on me. Her face contorted with rage as she advanced on me. She was going to kill me. Panic-stricken, I struggled to escape the box. My limbs weren’t cooperating. Cynfael put himself in front of me, but she batted him away with even more ease than she had Chayse. The poison hadn’t been enough.
Long fingers wrapped around my throat. I whimpered as her pointed nails cut into my skin. I clawed at her hand and tried to break her grip. She merely smiled and lifted me into the air. I fought for air, but it slipped away from me like wisps of smoke. My vision blurred. All I could focus on was her red smile, glittering eyes, and the pain.
Something hit us, knocking me from her grasp. I landed hard on a soft, sumptuous carpet, dragging great gulps of air into my lungs, grateful for the sharp, clarifying pain that hit me with each breath.
Scuffling steps caught my attention, and I eased myself up to see Chayse, coated in flames. Holding his mother back. The effort was costing him—his fire was wavering and looked like it was going to burn out. His mouth was open in a silent scream of pain. His blackened eyes shone with tears. She was too strong for him.
Madame went still. For a moment I thought the poison had taken her, but she smiled with unchecked malice. Raising her hand, she displayed the knife. “If I must die, it seems only fitting for you to join me.”
“Chayse!” My voice was garbled and weak.
I ran at her, my body reacting on pure instinct. I couldn’t even process what was happening. I rammed into her, sending us both careening backward. We hit the floor hard in a tangle of limbs. I felt the bite of steel, followed by a gush of hot blood. I ignored the blossoming pain and lifted myself off of her.
She was dead, a cruel smile still etched on her face discolored by the poison that had finally taken hold.
Chapter Fifteen
Chayse
I smelled blood, fresh blood. The fire died; my hands started shaking as panic set in.
Snow lifted herself upright, shaking. I caught her arm and pulled her to me. Mother wasn’t moving. Her icy eyes stared at the ceiling, lifeless.
I expected to feel something . . . relief, pain. Even sadness. I felt nothing for her as I looked over her corpse. A few drops of blood dotted Mother’s waxy cheek. She wasn’t the one bleeding.
I turned my attention to Snow. She was covered in blood, most of it dried. Her hand went to her cheek, where a fresh gash marred the pink skin. She looked at me, her brown eyes ignited by the candlelight. Then her gaze slid to Mother’s still body, and her spine stiffened at the sight. Taking a shuddering breath, she leaned into me. Her fingers brushed mine, a hesitant, cautious touch that turned into a tight grip. My hand warmed, and I worried that I would accidentally release a flame. But as I slid my fingers over hers, she didn’t seem to mind the heat.
“The old broad is dead then.”
Cynfael stepped up beside us, bringing with him wisps of smoke and the bite of tobacco.
I nodded. I couldn’t bring myself to say the words. It seemed surreal. The Queen had fallen, the game was over.
“She was a beauty.” Cynfael murmured as he crouched next to her body. He leaned in, and I thought he was going to close her eyes. Instead, he grasped her necklace and ripped it from her neck. The chain snapped, and pearls flew. Cynfael clutched the string, his eyes shining in victory.
He turned back to us, saw our expressions, and shrugged. “What?”
Snow didn’t say anything, only glared at him.
He spoke around his cigarette. “Ah, is the corpse not cold enough?” He slipped the broken necklace into his pocket.
“Was that necessary?” Snow challenged, her grip tightening on my hand.
Cynfael shrugged. “Were you expecting me to give my condolences? She won’t be missed.” He threw his cigarette down beside the body and ground it out with his shoe.
“It’s not as if you need the money,” Snow spat.
“You think I was robbing a corpse for monetary gain?” His mouth twisted with amusement. “This necklace is worthless to me. It’s what it represents that gives it value.”
“What might that be?” Snow questioned, her irritation growing.
He pulled it back out and pointed to one of the pearls, carved with her signet and inlaid with gold. A challenge flashed in his eyes. “Someone will have to go to the council and pronounce her dead.”
Confusion flooded Snow’s face. “What council?”
“The fae council,” I said. My voice sounded strange to me. I hadn’t thought of what would happen after Mother died. It was hard even to even imagine a world without her. I had always thought of her as a force rather than a being—she was untouchable.
Yet there she lay, undone by a fool’s gambit. Political maneuverings would ensue. Someone would have to come forward and lay claim to her throne. I hadn’t even considered it.
But Cynfael had, it seemed. This was probably his plan all along. He would only benefit from her removal. And he would never have been able to do it on his own.
His reasons didn’t matter. We had won. Snow would live. Let him try for Mother’s blood-drenched throne. He would face no opposition from me.
A cacophony of voices sounded from outside the tent. The dwarves burst through the door in a disorganized heap, brandishing a variety of weapons: blades, brass knuckles—even a sledgehammer. Their voices melded together as they screamed threats and charged at us, resembling an army of angry children.
Then they saw Snow, covered in blood but standing, her hand resting in mine.
The burly one bared yellow teeth, his face twisted with menace. A black teardrop by his eye marked him as my informant.
“Unhand her, fiend!” screeched a smaller one next to him. He was covered in tattoos.
Snow stepped forward and released my hand. A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “I’m okay,” she said. Her skin was still a bit gray, but seeing the dwarves seemed to bring some color back.
One wearing red suspenders and a pained expression approached her. “We lost track of you when you left the big top. We started to assume the worst.”
Snow leaned down. “It’s not your fault, Teddy.” She cast a conflicted look back. “There wasn’t anything you could have done.”
Cynfael flashed a smile. “Admirable effort, gents.”
His words were met with sneers and bared teeth.
Teddy gave Cynfael and me a cursory glance. The rest of them took in Snow’s blood-drenched appearance, their expressions ranging from disbelief to outright cynicism. “I, for one, would still like to hit someone,” one said, pointing his blade at Cynfael.
The tear-drop leader tightened his grip around the sledgehammer.
“The Queen is dead,” I announced pointlessly. Her body was in full view. My words were wooden and hollow, bitter on my tongue. I was responsible for her death . . . and that had pleased her. I shared her taste for blood. Did that make me like her? Cruel and wretched . . .
Stunned silence met my proc
lamation. “Dead,” one of them whispered, and they exchanged expressions of surprise, peering at her body with suspicious glances.
Then they stepped forward, some cursing under their breath, and gathered around her in hushed awe. My informant was the first to break the silence. “Who killed her?”
I could see her eyes in my mind, flashing with mockery and rage. I saw purple veins spreading across her face, her head tilted in forced supplication. Her voice rang in my mind: Yes, Chayse, who?
The room seemed to dim. Would I never be free of her?
“She ingested a fatal poison, which I was only too happy to provide.” Cynfael spoke up, eager to take the blame which belonged to me. His teeth flashed. “I killed the Queen,” he announced with an exaggerated bow.
No one seemed particularly shocked by the revelation.
“If we had known a bit of poison would do her in, we could have been free of her long ago,” a dwarf said with a snort.
“It took a more potent poison than you had at your disposal,” I said. Despite what it would sound like to everyone who heard of her death, she had not been weak. Without each other’s aid, we wouldn’t have lived to tell the tale.
“It seems a fitting death, choking on her spittle.” Another sniffed and spat in her general direction.
“Agreed.” Cynfael joined in with a saccharine smile. He had made his way to the liquor table.
“And the contracts . . . ?” Teddy asked, studying me with a cold skepticism.
I looked over the ragtag group. They probably had never even entertained the idea of their debts being cleared. It was the last thing she would ever have done.
“Void,” I said, trying to put strength into my voice. I half-expected her to return just to dispute me.
The silence was smothering.
“Do you mean it? Would you swear to it?” Teddy asked, more of an order than a question.
Their suspicious gazes all focused on me.
“Yes,” I agreed.
This didn’t get the reaction I was expecting. One gave me a stiff nod that seemed to indicate approval. “I will tell the others.”
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