*** READ IT NOW ***
BEFORE IT COMES DOWN
SHADOW RITE
The Queen’s Fayte, Book 3
Chapter One
Fingernails struck the edge of the alabaster throne like knives striking flint. Tap. Tap. Tap. That insistent rhythm drew my attention to the throne’s occupant, and her inscrutable sapphire stare paralyzed me.
Who was this woman?
Not an earthly woman, of that I was sure. No human had flesh so smooth or so pale it shimmered with its own strange incandescence. A moment shook loose from my hazy memory. This creature, whatever she was, had torn a hole between our worlds and dragged me through it. Only someone like Druansha could do that, or someone like Krol.
A slight tilt of her head confirmed my suspicion. Long teardrop ears poked through a silky curtain of snow-white hair. She was an Ancient One. A fae.
Her fingernails, sharpened to points like tiny daggers, tapped their impatient rhythm again. I shifted my head, but an icy cold stone pressed into my cheek.
Wait, why was I sprawled upon the floor?
In my confusion, another memory emerged. I’d been with Lucas and the other Fayte Guardians. The Converging Ceremony had begun in Balmoral Fayte Hall, or what was left of it after my battle with Krol, when this ethereal figure appeared in the mist. She’d spoken, but what had she said? I sat upright and pressed my temple. Something about the Brightlands. Something about me.
It’s time for you to answer for your crimes against the Brightlands.
She’d delivered those words with the same venomous expression she wore now.
“Good, you’re awake,” she sneered. “Guards, get her to her feet.” She snapped her preternaturally long and slender fingers, and two armored guards who’d been standing with others along the room’s perimeter clanked and stomped to my side. They aimed their iron spears at my face.
I pulled back and scrambled to my feet. “The weapons are hardly necessary.” My words stumbled over my coarse, dry tongue.
Where was I? A quick glance around revealed narrow windows slashed into glassy, opalescent walls that glowed with soft white light and soared up to one single, crystalline spire. Was this the Brightlands, as she’d said? Was this the palace I’d glimpsed from the Gray Woods?
Guards and attendants filled the sprawling room, with the throne at its center. No other chairs or tables or furnishings of any kind cluttered the floor, but upon the walls hung tapestries like those in the Fayte Sanctums. Yet each of these depicted one figure, the same one reclining upon the throne.
Her long, willowy limbs reminded me of Druansha, but the others weren’t like her at all.
The guards were stocky with bulbous noses, long beards, and legs and arms as thick as tree trunks. I towered over them as if they were children, but their portly bellies and deep crevices around their eyes suggested otherwise.
I tried to ignore them and adjusted the Fayte robe I still wore over my frock and tugged at my gloves. Everything was still in its proper place, but it was a comfort to touch something familiar nonetheless. Instinctively, my fingers also felt for my Faytling, still hidden beneath the robe and my blouse. If I ever needed its help, it was now. Carefully, and as discreetly as I could, I worked it out from beneath my collar.
The movement was met with the sharp jab of a spear in my arm. “Stand still when Queen Rhilasa’s speaking to you.”
I pulled back and scowled but held my tongue.
He retracted the weapon, but his sneer was a warning. Don’t try it again.
On the throne, my captor’s upper lip twitched with amusement. “Never mind the stone. It can’t help you here.”
How smug she was. Still, I pulled my hand away from my Faytling and addressed her with all the courage I could muster. “I demand to know why you’ve brought me here.”
She only laughed. “Did you hear that, everyone? Jane Shackle, the human beast who killed my son, your dear Prince, says she demands answers. Tell me, human, is that fear I hear trembling in your voice?”
My fingers curled into fists. “You had no right to bring me here. Take me back.”
She touched her chest and feigned surprise. “Take you back? Why would I do that? Are you afraid to die here, so far from your home, so far from those you love?” That saccharin smile vanished, and she was once again staring daggers at me. “Do you think my son wanted to die so far from his home and those he loved?”
So, it was true. This was the Brightlands Queen, the mother Krol had been so eager to please.
From the row of guards behind her, I heard a cough and the clearing of a throat.
The woman leaned back and sighed. “Do you have something to say, Azender?”
Someone stepped between two husky guards and I had to blink twice to be sure my eyes weren’t playing tricks on me. He was an astonishing figure with a thick sweep of gray hair styled into a pompadour over his left eye and bushy gray sideburns that covered much of his cheeks. From the waist up, he wore an elegant white doublet with a shimmering deep-blue cloak flung over one shoulder. From the waist down, however, his goat legs were clad only in thick, gray fur. “My Queen,” the faun said, “I was only wondering if I might offer a suggestion.”
She pursed her lips and bent her fingers like talons on the armrests. I expected an angry outburst, but her tension slipped away. “Fine,” she said. “You may approach.”
The creature named Azender straightened his velvet sleeves and stepped up to the throne, his cloven hooves making a quiet tap against the stone floor. When he reached her, he used a small footstool to speak into her inclined ear.
As he whispered, her mild irritation became curiosity. “Something new for the collection, you think?”
He nodded.
“Perhaps you’re right.” A wicked gleam sparkled in her eye.
My mind raced. What collection? Then a thought: Hadn’t Krol given Lucas’s Sliver to her? It was the price he’d demanded from my beloved’s father in that devil’s bargain.
She lifted a hand and snapped her fingers. “Where is my Master of the Guard? Where is Troxell?”
Behind her, the first guard obeyed the command, waddling with a side-to-side gait so he wouldn’t trip on a golden beard so long it tickled the tops of his polished black boots.
“Take the human to the Black Room,” the Queen ordered.
Murmurs filled the air as Troxell’s fingers toyed with one of the many silver bands worked into the braids embedded in his beard. I caught a gleeful shine in his eyes as he approached.
Was the Black Room the dungeon? Something worse? I turned to run, but where?
Troxell chortled. “You’re no match for the Dwarven Guard, dearie. Come quiet like, and we can make this easy.”
“Troxell,” the Queen growled.
He turned and bowed, making his beard puddle on the floor. “Forgive me, Your Majesty. I misspoke. We won’t make it easy, I assure you.”
“Better.” Her glance jumped from the diminutive man to something behind us both.
“That will not be necessary, Troxell.”
I whipped around, but I already knew it was Druansha in the doorway. She stood with her head high and her wavy hair shrouding her shoulders, tamed only by a silver diadem resting on her forehead. She was an astonishing vision, as she always was. To the Order of the Fayte, she was the Lady of the Fayte, the guiding light for our small band of Fayte Guardians pledged to protect the Queen of the British Empire.
To me, however, she was so much more. She’d been a dragonfly, my dragonfly and my only true friend until I found the Guardians. That seemed so long ago now. I didn’t know exactly what she was to me anymore, but the sight of her still filled me with hope.
The burly guards blocking her pointed spears at her slender midriff, covered only by the soft folds of her gauzy gown and a silvery cord tied around her hips, but I knew they’d never stand a chance against her.
When her gaze met mine, I saw stone-cold determination in her eyes. She lifted her hand and made a throwing gesture. At that instant, every spear aimed at her flew into the air and crashed against the far wall. The guards beside me cowered and tightened their grips on their own spears as she marched toward us.
When she passed me, her gaze communicated a silent question: Are you hurt?
I straightened and lifted my chin to show her I was fine.
She nodded and continued toward the throne. “What have you done, Mother?”
Queen Rhilasa leaned back again and smirked. “I do not answer to you, child.”
Druansha stood firm. “I am not a child.”
The Queen shrugged. “You are still my child, whether you wish it or not.”
“You’re making a mistake. Krolaidh deserved what happened to him.”
“What happened to him? You believe your brother deserved his death?”
“Jane only defended herself.”
The Queen rose and reached out, aiming her talon-like fingers at Druansha’s throat. Streaks of blue and white light shot from her fingertips and connected with Druansha’s flesh.
The younger fae stiffened and rose inches from the floor before lurching forward from the neck. She struggled to speak, but only a gurgle escaped. For what seemed an eternity, she dangled mid-air.
Everyone in the room froze and held their breath, including me. After an agonizingly long moment, the Queen relaxed her hand, the streaks of lightning retracted, and Druansha dropped to the ground. She touched her throat but made no other acknowledgment of the attack.
“You should be more careful with your words, Daughter. I am still your Queen, as much as that displeases you.”
“Mother.”
That simple word could have meant, “Mother, no, that doesn’t displease me at all,” but it clearly meant the opposite.
“He would have killed her,” Druansha continued. “It was his intent. You know that as well as I.”
Krolaidh was my father, and he had wanted to kill me. He would have, too, if I hadn’t killed him first. It was still a difficult truth to accept.
“That hardly matters to me,” the Queen said. “She’s nothing. She isn’t our kind. Look at her. She’s human.”
Contempt oozed from the word.
“She is half human, yes. The rest is just like you and me.”
And what was that, exactly? I still didn’t know. We called their kind by so many names: fairy, fae, sometimes elves or others, and ancient ones. But I still hardly understood.
“Half makes no difference.” Her disdain was still evident, but the venom had waned. She seemed to be growing weary of the argument.
“Perhaps not to you,” Druansha replied. “But the Seilie Court doesn’t agree.”
The low murmur among the guards stopped. I could hear only the sound of my own pulse thundering in my ears as the Queen stared at her daughter. “I’m sure the Court has no interest in such matters.”
Druansha touched her lips thoughtfully. “I didn’t think that would be the case, so I visited the Magister to inquire.”
The Queen’s spidery fingers wrapped around the armrest and squeezed. “You’ve spoken to the Seilie Magister? You sought Court counsel without informing me?”
“It wasn’t counsel,” Druansha said. “I didn’t even know your plans until this moment. I was merely wondering if the Law of Reckoning, in a general sense, would apply to Jane, considering her situation.”
“You mean, considering she is not of our blood,” the Queen snapped. “I’m sure the Law doesn’t apply at all.”
“Considering she is half our blood,” Druansha corrected, “I believe it does. And the Magister agrees with me.”
“Does he now?” the Queen mused. “How wonderful for that little tadpole.”
“On Jane’s behalf,” Druansha said, “I’d like to invoke the Law of Reckoning so this matter may be considered by the Seilie Court.”
“I do not accept your petition,” the Queen shot back. “If the human beast wishes to invoke that right, she must do so herself.”
With a look, Druansha urged me on.
The Queen leaned forward and fixed me with her glare. “Before you say anything, human, let me be clear: The punishment you receive here will pale in comparison to the suffering you will endure if you insist on trying the Seilie Court’s patience with a frivolous and unnecessary trial. I assure you, I will take personal delight in plucking you apart piece once they determine what an unworthy wretch you really are. So, do think carefully about your next words.”
I should have been afraid, but a sudden and surprising calm came over me. She was worried. She was defensive. That meant for the first time since I’d entered this chamber, I had the advantage.
A moment of clarity settled over me, and I saw a life flash before me. Not my own life, but Lucas’s. My poor, sweet beloved Lucas. Never entirely happy and never entirely sad, but always trapped somewhere in the middle because a Sliver had been stolen from him. A betrayal by his own father and mine.
And if Krol was to be believed, his mother now held it in her possession.
The lump in my throat wouldn’t budge, and the fear churning within me only made it worse.
My father had caused unspeakable harm to Lucas, but maybe I could undo some part of it.
Then again, maybe I was deluding myself.
Still, that tiny voice within me, the one telling me to be brave and to try, was the only thing that made sense in this nonsensical place where dwarfs carried spears, fauns dressed as courtiers, and vengeful fae queens stole human girls from their worlds. I pulled back my shoulders and met the Queen’s sneer. “Your Majesty, I will invoke the Law of Reckoning, and there’s something else I want as well.”
You must be logged in to post a comment.