Beguiled (14 page)

“I assumed you knew, Majesty—Maggie,” he corrected quickly. “The Dullahan were fomenting an uprising. Culhane led the warriors in to quell it. I assumed it was with your approval since he is your Chieftain.”

“Is he?” Maggie had to wonder. Culhane had been missing in action for days now. The last she’d seen of him was in that oh-so-erotic dream a couple of nights ago. He hadn’t popped in to annoy or seduce her. Hadn’t stopped by to remind her of her “duties.” Now she was discovering that he was in Otherworld, making decisions without even bothering to tell her about them?

Whose side was he really on?

Mab’s last words to her came rattling back again and Maggie shivered. Wasn’t Culhane the one who was always reminding her she was Queen? Why hadn’t he told her anything? Why hadn’t he come to her with talk of an “uprising”?

“I didn’t know anything about this,” she muttered.

Finn looked like he would rather be anywhere but there. Typical male, he was clearly worried that he’d gotten another male in trouble. Human or Fae, all men stuck together.

“I’m sure he meant to mention it.”

“Mention?
Mention
a revolution?” Maggie turned around, stalked off a few paces, then came right back again. “Why wouldn’t he tell me? Aren’t I the damn Queen?”

“Of course, Majesty.” Finn briefly bowed his head again.

“Doesn’t feel like it to me,” she snapped, then scrubbed her hands up and down her upper arms. “He should have told me what was happening.”

“Mayhap he felt he couldn’t wait,” Finn suggested, his voice soft and low.

“Maybe,” she mused, then shot a look up at him. “And maybe he didn’t want to come to me. Maybe he prefers making the decisions all by himself.”

Finn nearly winced. “If I may . . . you haven’t been in Otherworld often, Maggie, and some things cannot wait. If those in charge do not take action when necessary, it opens the gate for more troubles.”

“So this is my fault.” It wasn’t a question, because she knew Finn would never say that. But Maggie knew it was what he was thinking. And maybe, she even agreed. Partially. Even if Culhane weren’t up to something sneaky—making decisions without telling her about them—if she had been putting in the time in Otherworld, he would have had a tougher time taking over.

But she’d been so hesitant about accepting the crown and the role of Queen. There was a lot to consider. How could she make decisions affecting thousands of, for lack of a better word,
people
? What made her so special? What gave her the right to be Queen? Just because she’d managed to survive a fight with the other Queen and toss her royal ass out a window?
That
made her a destined leader?

If that was all it took, every school-ground bully in the world would be a minor dictator. Wasn’t a queen supposed to be knowledgeable? Wise? Wouldn’t a true queen have sat her ass on the throne, whether she wanted to or not? Would she be so selfish, she’d cling to a life that had already changed so much, it wasn’t the life she’d known before, anyway?

“Isn’t the most important thing that the uprising was successfully put down?” Finn asked in a quiet, reasonable tone that made Maggie want to shriek.

She didn’t want to be reasonable. She wanted to kick something. Most specifically,
Culhane
. She wanted him right in front of her, explaining what he’d done and why. She wanted him to freaking understand that it wasn’t fair to expect her to turn into some legendary queen overnight without any doubts or fears.

“I suppose so,” she agreed, glad at least that a possible rebellion had been put down, because if it hadn’t, these . . . Dullahan would most likely have come after her. And they probably wouldn’t have settled for tossing her out a window. They would have wanted a more permanent end to her less than spectacular “reign.”

“Maggie, you must ascend the throne. Otherworld needs a queen to lead them. We need you.”

She laughed shortly and felt a bubble of hysteria rising in her chest that she fought valiantly to squelch. “Otherworld needs me? How is that possible, Finn? I don’t even know who I am anymore.”

She sure wasn’t plain old Maggie Donovan these days. Not with the superhuman strength and the weird floating thing she did when she wasn’t concentrating. She was slowly becoming a full-Fae. Soon, she wouldn’t be human anymore. Then what? Who would she be?

Would she still be Maggie Donovan, struggling artist and glass painter extraordinaire? Would she still want the same things, love the same things? Would she even
remember
being human?

Not to mention, this queen thing—it wasn’t as if she’d been
elected
to the position. She’d sort of gotten the job by default. What if she was no good at it? What if she gave up her life in the real world, then failed in the Otherworld?

And wow. Wasn’t that the most positive train of thought in the world?

“You are Queen Maggie,” Finn said, his voice low and steady and filled with confidence. “It is who you were always meant to be.”

Was he right? Was Culhane? Was she fighting something that had been destined, as Culhane had told her?

She held up one hand to stave off whatever else Finn might be about to come up with. She didn’t need comforting. She didn’t know what she needed. Commiseration? No, she was too busy throwing herself a pity party to need outside help. At that thought, Maggie frowned and realized that she’d been feeling sorry for herself since this whole thing started and it had gotten her exactly nowhere. When had she turned into a big wiener?

Since when did Maggie Donovan run and hide from anything?

Lifting her chin, she told herself she wasn’t a coward. She was the kind of woman who stood up and faced her mistakes. Worked through the flu. Took care of business no matter
whom
she had to work for. And damn it, if she could survive the world’s crabbiest pixie without resorting to homicide, she could take on Otherworld.

She was the Queen, elected or not. If some of the Fae didn’t like her, well they’d get used to her. She was done hiding. She was done being worried. She was ready, willing and able to take on the job Culhane had been saying for weeks she’d been destined for.

The moment she accepted her destiny, her nervousness disappeared and a sense of . . . okay, not peace, but maybe
calm
came over her. Funny. She’d been trying so hard to avoid all of this to protect herself, when just going with the flow would have made her feel so much better.

“I wish I could read minds,” Finn said, a bemused smile on his face. “Because judging by your expression, your thoughts right now would be very interesting.”

Maggie grinned. “Damn straight. You know what, Finn? I’ve had an epiphany.”

“Is that right?”

“Oh yeah. I can do this.”

He smiled. “You can.”

“Culhane wants a queen; he’s got one.”

“Well done.”

“If Mab gets out, I’ll take care of her.”

“No doubt.”

Maggie paused, gave him a hard look and asked, “But she won’t. Get out, I mean. Right?”

“Not without assistance,” Finn assured her.

Well, that wasn’t exactly the staunch reassurance she’d hoped for.

“Crap.”

Finn smiled, took her elbow and started walking. “Come with me, Your Majesty.”

Maggie didn’t even flinch at the word. Progress.

“I want to show you something that will make you feel more at ease.”

“A vodka tonic?” she asked, suddenly a little less assured than she’d been minutes ago.

Finn laughed and led her down the long hall.

Eileen leaned in closer to the small framed painting hanging just at eye level. At first, she couldn’t figure out what it was. All of the other paintings in the gigantic room were of people. Or places. Some of them looked completely amazing, too. She was still pretty jazzed about actually
seeing
paintings move. And they looked way cooler than they did in the Harry Potter movies.

But this one was different.

This painting was of the sky. Just a really pretty blue sky with a few white clouds and one person, right in the middle. A woman with long, golden hair flying out around her, was falling and falling through that empty sky. Her mouth was open as if she were screaming, but Eileen couldn’t hear anything.

“Well yeah,” she whispered to herself, “if all these paintings talked, too, it would get seriously loud in here. But who’re you supposed to be?” she asked the eternally falling woman. “And how come you’re over here all by yourself?”

Chewing at her bottom lip, Eileen looked around, but she was the only person in the room, except for the ones in the paintings. And she wondered. Could she touch the painted sky? Could she touch the falling woman? Would it feel flat like human paintings, or would her hand go right through the painting like magic?

She gave one last glance over her shoulder and fought down the feeling of guilt pulling at her. It wasn’t like she was going to ruin the picture or anything. She was just going to touch it. No biggie. Right?

She took a breath, held it and slowly, carefully, edged her right hand toward the tantalizing canvas in front of her.

Her eyes went wide. Her mouth dropped open. Her hand slid into that cerulean sky and an instant later, the falling woman landed in the center of Eileen’s palm.

“Ohmigod!” She stared at the tiny woman with the long, gold hair as she stood up on Eileen’s hand. The woman shook her hair until it rippled like sunlight on the surface of a lake; then, the woman looked directly into Eileen’s eyes and gave her a slow smile.

“You have saved me, child,” she said, her voice strong and rich, despite her size.

Eileen’s insides felt as if someone had tossed her into a freezer. Suddenly she knew exactly who the woman was. And why she’d been falling. Swallowing hard, she said, “You’re . . . Mab.”

“I am the once and future Queen of the Fae, and for your service, you will be rewarded.”

Before Eileen could say anything, the tiny image of Mab shifted and disappeared from the painting.

“Oh, crap.”

The palace guards made themselves scarce when Culhane was there. Not surprising, he thought, since female Fae didn’t have much use for the males, anyway. Plus, a warrior was a direct threat to most females. They didn’t like that there was an entire clan of powerful males—the warriors wielded more power than the guards were comfortable with.

Things were changing, though. More slowly than he’d like, but put that down to his stubborn Queen. At the thought of Maggie Donovan, his body tightened and a hard, dull ache spread through him. The woman was making him mad with want. And not just for the ease he longed to find in her body, but for the changes she would bring to Otherworld.

“Perhaps it’s time to try something else,” he whispered to himself as he stalked along the wide, empty hallway of crystal walls. Within those walls, pulsing swaths of color shimmered and swirled whenever someone passed. Those colors were the only signs of life here, he thought. Every room stood empty, forlorn, a great palace with no one to shelter. Mab had long kept only her own guard in this massive castle because she had seen plots and revolution in the eyes of her subjects. She had trusted no one at the end and no one was exactly who had been there to help her when she had lost everything.

Now life in this palace would change. The female guards would soon understand that their eternal lives, as they had known them, were over—as soon as Maggie was on the throne and Culhane was ruling Otherworld at her side. All he had to do was
get
her here.

He’d tried patience, though the gods knew it was not a virtue he had been overly blessed with. He’d tried seduction. He’d even tried bribing her with the promise of treasure and a life of ease. But she’d stood steadfast against them all, determined to hold on to a life that was no longer hers.

So perhaps he would do what he should have done in the beginning. Snatch Maggie from her world, and hold her here, in the palace, until his body had convinced hers that she wanted nothing more than to stay.

His injuries from the battle with the Dullahan already healed, Culhane prepared himself for a battle of another kind. In this one, there would be no physical injuries. This battle would be one of the mind. His will against Maggie’s.