The Shadow Queen (9 page)

Viktor made another sound of protest and gripped his quill with white-knuckled force. Irina picked up the mirror. “Shall we check on Eldr for you?”

Kol leaned toward the queen as she said, “Mirror, mirror in my hand, show me the state of Eldr’s land.”

“Why does it have to rhyme?” Trugg muttered. Jyn shushed him as the mirror’s surface swirled, the gray clouds moving faster and faster until colors began to bleed through, and then Kol was looking at Eldr.

Or more specifically, at the sizable city of Frenellskyre, a city Kol and his friends had flown over in their quest to see the war front. Frenellskyre had been safe and whole, far north of the war front.

But not now.

Now it was overrun with ogres. The brutish creatures loped through the streets and smashed through storefronts and workshops. They scaled homes, ripped off the roofs with one swift movement, and dove inside.

Kol gripped the edge of the table and then sank slowly into his chair as Eldrians—many of them children or the elderly left behind to care for them while the able-bodied joined the war effort—spilled out of the homes, their mouths gaping in terrified screams the mirror wouldn’t allow him to hear. His throat closed in horror as children too young to fully shift tried anyway, desperate to flee. Elderly Draconi shifted and tried to scoop their young charges in their talons, but the ogres smashed wings,
broke spines, and tore his people limb from limb.

Kol made a strangled sound as he tried to breathe, tried to think beyond the tragedy playing out in front of him.

Where was his army? Why hadn’t the city been evacuated?

The answer hit him like a swift blow to the stomach. The only reason his army would fail to defend Frenellskyre was because his army was
gone
. His army was gone, and since Kol hadn’t received word from the royal council, the ogres must have destroyed the army so swiftly, none survived to get a message to the castle.

Nothing stood between the capital and the ogres but rivers, rough terrain, and more villages full of innocent Draconi who had no warning that ruin was about to reach them.

How long did his people have? How long did Brig have?

Irina laid the mirror back in the box and pushed the collar closer to Kol. “Do we have an agreement?”

Kol stared at the collar while his pulse roared in his ears and his hands shook. He wasn’t a predator. The princess wasn’t prey.

But Eldr was falling, and Queen Irina was its only hope. Could he really balk at hunting down the princess when the alternative was the destruction of his kingdom?

He tore his gaze from the collar and found Irina watching him intently while the snake around her neck met Kol’s gaze and hissed. Behind him, his friends, who hadn’t seen the surface of the mirror, were talking over the top of each other, their voices rising as they argued.

“He can’t go up against a
mardushka
, I don’t care what protection he has. That’s madness.” Jyn emphasized her point by slamming her fist against the table.

The ogres were already in Frenellskyre.

“The queen has nothing to lose if Kol fails or if the princess kills him.” Jyn glared at Irina.

His army was gone.

“She said she’d make a blood oath.” Trugg’s voice was sharp. “That means she’s bound by her magic and can’t break her promise.”

“It also means
Kol
would be bound by her magic. What if he can’t find the princess? What is the penalty for failure?” Jyn demanded.

The brutes tore his people limb from limb. No one in their path stood a chance.

“He won’t be paying any penalty for failure, because he isn’t going to do it,” Trugg said. “Queen Irina, one of us will take our king’s place.”

Irina never looked away from Kol. “Such loyalty. Admirable. But Eldr is his to save. He has the most to prove.” She leaned forward to press her hand lightly on Kol’s hearts, and he felt a jolt of almost pain. “His dragon heart won’t allow him to fail.”

Jyn sounded frustrated. “None of us will fail. Simply pick one, and we’ll—”

“I’ll do it.” Kol met Irina’s gaze as his friends erupted into angry protests. He whipped a hand into the air and gave them a look that begged them to listen. “She showed me the ogres. They’re already at Frenellskyre. The town was full of children and the elderly. The ogres . . . no Eldrian left there will survive the night.”

His friends stared at him in horrified silence.

He turned to Irina. “I’ll make the blood oath. I’ll hunt down
the princess. And then I want every last ogre inside Eldr obliterated.”

The brilliant light of triumph in the queen’s eyes made something hard knot up in Kol’s chest, but he was out of options, and Eldr was out of time.

Irina cut the center of her palm with a quick slice of her fingernail. Blood welled to the surface. Quickly, she sliced open Kol’s hand as well and then pressed her bloody palm to his. This time there was no mistaking the jolt of power that struck him. It burned against his skin and tingled in his blood. The queen met his eyes and said, “I vow that when you have completed the task I set before you, I will use magic to destroy every ogre inside Eldr’s borders.”

He swallowed hard as the tingle of her magic surged up his arm and flooded his chest like a swarm of bees beneath his skin. “I vow that I will complete that task in exchange for your help in destroying the ogres within Eldr.”

Irina’s smile was hard and bright as she placed the collar around his neck. It lay against his collarbone, cold and rigid. “We will begin today. The coach is waiting. We’re going hunting on the Falkrain Mountains.”

P
ANIC WAS FRAYING
the edges of Lorelai’s thoughts, chewing away at her minute by minute until she thought she’d go mad if she couldn’t settle on a plan that could save Gabril’s life.

In the four days since Gabril had been stabbed, the wound had festered. His body, wracked with fever and pain, continued to weaken. There were no medicinal plants anywhere near their campsite. There were no villages within a day’s walk except Tranke, and no one would help them there even if they could. And despite Lorelai’s relentless pleas, Gabril refused to allow her to heal him, convinced that any lingering trace of Irina’s magic would immediately report Lorelai’s whereabouts to the queen.

Not to mention that healing Gabril would require her to expend all her energy to force his stubborn heart to yield to hers, leaving her too weak to fight the queen once Irina did find them.

Gabril would die anyway, and Leo with him. It was a chance Lorelai couldn’t take.

Instead, she’d cobbled together a plan out of the only
alternative she could think of. Leaving Sasha at the campsite to guard Gabril, Lorelai headed to the huge village of Nordenberg with Leo—who refused to let her go alone since she’d been seen at the garrison—where she hoped the apothecary would have supplies that could save Gabril. The Kiffen lands stretched across much of the eastern Falkrains, but their estate was in Nordenberg. If any village still had the means to buy medical supplies, it would be Nordenberg.

Leo had volunteered to go alone, but she’d argued him into silence. Soldiers would undoubtedly be searching for the garrison robbers. How would his charm and recklessness help him if he got caught? Or if someone recognized him and decided to turn him in to the queen in exchange for enough food to last the winter?

He was her responsibility—he had been since the moment her father had placed Leo’s hand in hers and told her to get him to safety. Nine years later, she was still doing her best to obey her father’s last wish.

The journey took a day and a half. When at last the snug, tidy cottages of Nordenberg appeared in the distance, the sun was approaching its midpoint in the sky. The town was arranged in neat rows and gentle curves at the base of the northernmost Falkrain mountain, its wood and brick buildings following the swell of the land as it began its ascent to the sky above. A wide lane bisected its heart, and most businesses were located either along that lane or one street over.

The apothecary shop was on a side street that was paved in buckled cobblestones with patches of wild grass pushing through
the cracks. After stopping behind an outlying barn to change into their peasant outfits, Lorelai and Leo pulled caps low over their foreheads to keep from being recognized and entered the village. Lorelai was so focused on their destination that the heavy silence within the village streets didn’t penetrate her thoughts until they was already past the first block of shops.

A chill brushed her skin as she grabbed Leo’s arm and pulled them both to a halt. She looked around, but the streets were deserted. It was as if every person in Nordenberg had simply disappeared.

Slowly, she spun on her heels and looked for something to tell her what was happening.

“Where is everyone?” Leo whispered.

“I don’t know, but something’s not right.”

It was time for the midday meal—had everyone gone to their homes to dine? Had Lady Kiffen called a town meeting on the grounds of her estate?

“I can go to the rooftops to check it out,” Leo said.

“You do that. I’ll keep going toward the apothecary’s. Whistle if there’s trouble ahead of me. I don’t care what’s going on, we can’t leave here without those supplies.”

If the apothecary was as empty as the rest of the businesses around her, she’d take what she needed and leave the dagger on his counter as payment. Gabril’s situation didn’t give Lorelai the luxury of waiting for the villagers to return.

Leo scaled the closest wall and moved swiftly across the rooftops while Lorelai hurried forward, every nerve straining to recognize any sign of trouble.

Her brother’s soft whistle—a perfect mimic of a
canary—drifted through the air as Lorelai was halfway through the intersection of the next street. She turned to look up at the rooftop behind her but then froze, her heart thudding rapidly as she stared.

Parked on the side street, just beyond the bakery, was a coach with the Ravenspire crest painted on its doors. The street beyond the coach was packed with villagers who were slowly eating handfuls of glossy red apples while staring at the royal vehicle.

And standing on top of the coach facing the villagers, a large red and gold dragon on the street beside her, was Queen Irina.

Lorelai stood, halfway into the road that cut between the bakery and the livery stables, and stared at Irina, her heartbeat slamming against her ears, her mouth going dry. For a moment, her vision wavered, and her knees shook.

Magic stung her veins and gathered in her palms, and a brilliant flame of rage lit her from the inside out. In her mind’s eye, she saw Irina laughing while the castle came to life and tried to crush Lorelai. She saw her father’s blood on the marble floor while Irina’s snake slithered away.

She reached for her gloves as she remembered her father telling her to protect Leo.

Protect Leo.

Fighting Irina like this—without thinking it through, without a backup plan—was a good way to get Leo killed. She’d learned that lesson the hard way nine years ago.

The thought of losing Leo galvanized her into action. Clenching her gloved hands, she eased back a step and forced herself to wall off the fear that flooded her. Fear would cause her to make a
mistake, and making a mistake now would cost her everything.

She tore her eyes from Irina and stared at the dragon that stood still as a statue facing the crowd of silent, vacant-eyed villagers. Magic burned her palms, and she had to work to breathe past the band of panic that wanted to crush her. What was a
dragon
doing with Irina?

As Lorelai backed up another step, she had the sinking feeling that it had been a mistake rescuing the Eldrians from the mob of peasants. There was nothing she could do to change that now. Nothing but run, hide, and get Leo out of Nordenberg alive—with Gabril’s medicine safely stowed in her pack.

“Who is your rightful queen?” Irina demanded of the crowd. Her voice had a cruel edge. It was as if the Irina who’d smiled so warmly at Lorelai years ago had never existed.

“You are our rightful queen,” the crowd answered, their voices blending together in a singsong rhythm that made the hair on the back of Lorelai’s neck rise.

Her fingertips began to itch, and fire burned through her veins as she kept backing away, moving toward the corner of the bakery so she could hide against its south-facing wall, just out of the queen’s sight, while she figured out how to get to the apothecary’s without getting caught. A quick glance at the roof showed her that it was empty. Either Leo was lying flat to stay out of sight—unlikely, since he knew his sister was in danger—or he was on his way down to the street to help her.

“And what about Princess Lorelai?” Irina’s voice crackled with power.

“Death to traitors! Death to Lorelai!” The crowd’s voices rose to a fevered pitch, and Lorelai shrank as the chant echoed
throughout the streets until it seemed she was surrounded by a thousand people screaming for her demise.

Whatever magic Irina was working, Lorelai and Leo needed to outrun it as fast as they could.

And they would. Once they had medicine for Gabril.

She took another two steps back, moving with silence rather than speed. All the speed in the world wouldn’t save her if she attracted the queen’s attention. Her pulse beat a frantic tempo against her skin—the powerful heat of the magic in her blood making it hard to think. And the bone-deep fear of Irina that filled Lorelai’s nightmares in the dead of night had become a monster that threatened to swallow her whole now that she was seconds away from coming face-to-face with the queen in the broad light of day.

She was within four steps of the bakery’s corner when Irina whipped a hand into the air, instantly silencing the crowd. In the sudden quiet, the soft shush of Lorelai’s steps was faint but clear. Irina’s shoulders stiffened, and she turned to look over her shoulder.

Lorelai twisted toward the bakery and lunged for cover. Her boot caught the uneven edge of a cobblestone, and she fell forward. She rolled with the fall, but she was off balance. Before she could correct her trajectory, she hurtled past the corner of the building, just out of sight of the queen, and slammed into the wall.

Instantly she leaped to her feet, her breath caught in her throat, her hands suddenly shaking. She’d made a mistake.

Irina was going to do everything in her power to make sure Lorelai paid for that mistake with her life.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are.” Irina’s voice was sugar-coated knives.

Desperately, Lorelai scanned the nearest buildings. Where was Leo? They needed to hide before Irina or one of her guards rounded the corner.

Or, heaven help Lorelai, the dragon.

“How many of you are hiding from me? Come out, and you will face a merciful queen.” The sugar disappeared from Irina’s voice. “Or, if you refuse, I will find you, and you will face a judgment more terrible than any you can imagine.”

Another canary whistle, this time from half a block back down the street she’d already traveled.

Lorelai started running.

She flew past the tailor’s shop, her boots barely touching the cobblestones beneath her.

“Find them!” Irina’s voice rang with authority. Instantly Lorelai heard the rough scrape of talons against the street.

The dragon was coming.

She ran faster.

The cordwainer’s shop held a few displays of her finest leather shoes, fit for the upper gentry or the Kiffens themselves. The tools of her trade lay neatly on her workbench, but Leo wasn’t there.

Lorelai’s pulse thundered as loud as her thoughts as she raced past the cordwainer’s and closed in on the smithy. There would be a brick forge. A table for his tools. Nothing they could hide behind for long. Nothing that could save them from what was coming.

Her hands felt like they were coated in fire beneath her gloves.
Her breath was a desperate sob in her chest. Where was Leo?

Any second now, the dragon would round the corner and see her, and it wouldn’t matter how fast she ran or where she hid. He’d find her. Her only hope was to get out of sight and pray that without being given her specific scent beforehand, the combined scents of everyone who’d been on the main street today would require the dragon to search every building.

She raced toward the blacksmith’s doorway, her ears straining to hear sounds of pursuit past the thudding of her heart and the ragged tear of her breathing.

A hand reached out of the smithy’s doorway, snatched her coat, and hauled her inside.

“I’ve got you,” Leo whispered, and she threw her arms around him even while she scanned the room, looking for a place to hide.

“Come out in the name of the queen!” A man’s voice thundered into the air, and Lorelai shrank from the smithy’s doorway as Leo put a finger to his lips and jerked his chin toward the back of the shop.

Lorelai followed him as the soldier in the street yelled, “We’ll have to search the shops. The dragon doesn’t know which scent to follow. I need all guards—”

“Oh I have a much better idea.” Irina’s voice echoed down the alley behind the shop as Lorelai skirted the large brick belly of the forge, its embers still glowing from the smithy’s morning fire.

“Come on,” Leo whispered as he gestured toward a slim iron staircase that spiraled into the ceiling in the far corner of the shop.

Lorelai climbed the stairs, which shifted and creaked with every step, and followed Leo into a narrow room with a small cot, an unlit oil lamp resting on a tiny desk, and soot staining the walls from the bellows in the shop below.

“Stand clear of the buildings.” Irina’s voice drifted in through the room’s tiny window. “I know how to flush them out.”

“Skylight above the bed.” Leo breathed the words as he nodded toward the cot resting in the far corner of the room.

Lorelai followed him as quietly as she could, all the while listening for sounds of pursuit, Irina’s voice—anything that would tell her where the threat was coming from.

Leo hopped onto the bed, his scuffed boots barely sinking into the thin mattress. “The villagers are under her control. I don’t know how she—”

“It’s the apples.” Lorelai climbed up next to him. “She did the same thing to everyone in the castle after she married Father. They’ve been bespelled to make them mindlessly loyal to her.”

“If everyone was eating those nasty things, then how were you able to stand up to her?” he asked as he reached up and pressed his fingertips against the low-slung ceiling. A square of wood twice Lorelai’s width slide quietly to the side, revealing a slice of the cloudy, pale blue sky.

“She never gave me any. She said they weren’t for people with magic in their blood. Plus, she trusted me because she thought we were the same.”

“Proof that she’s a fool.” Leo smiled at her, though there was worry in his eyes. “All the roofs are joined by narrow catwalks.” He cupped his hand for her foot. “If we stay low, the chimneys might hide us from anyone who happens to look up.”

“Unless she’s got the dragon circling the sky above.”

“You have a better plan?” He nudged her with his cupped hands, and she placed her foot in the cradle of his palms.

She didn’t have a better plan. She had Gabril’s implacable voice in her head giving her instructions, expecting her to heed him, refusing to let his princess do anything less than survive and keep Leo alive as well.

Use your environment to your advantage.

Surprise your enemy. Be unexpected.

Don’t get caught.

Don’t get caught. Lorelai looked up through the hole in the ceiling and took a steadying breath. If anyone could survive fleeing from the queen and her dragon over slanting rooftops and narrow catwalks, it was Lorelai and Leo.