Cruel Enchantment (24 page)

They’d ridden horses to the Boundary Lands, a wise choice considering the lack of roads. They slung Aeric’s big body over one of the mounts and put her on another. The motorcycle stayed at the cottage.

Aurora watched with tears in her eyes as the Imperial Guard took them away. The birch ladies helped people. It was what they lived for. They especially helped women find their way. This had to be a bitter defeat for her. She looked devastated.

Emmaline glanced at Aeric, teetering precariously on the back of the poor overburdened horse they’d inflicted his bulk upon. The partially carved key was likely in his pocket. Not the safest place for it, but there was nothing she could do about that.

They rode for a long time, out of the woods and into what looked like suburbs, but not like human burbs. Here the houses were all different sizes and shapes to fit their respective fae families; they didn’t all look like they’d been stamped from a similar cookie cutter. There were different-shaped yards for each home, all containing different sorts of plants. This was where the troop lived, all the fae who were not a part of either court and weren’t nature fae, either.

Eventually they hit the city again and everyone stared as they passed by. By early afternoon they reached the Rose Tower, a tall expanse of gleaming rose quartz. Outside a group of humans stood with camera equipment and microphones. She recognized them. This was the crew of
Faemous
she’d been supposedly going to join.

“Do you have a statement to make about these prisoners?” Brian Bentley, one of the
Faemous
commentators, said, holding a mic to the captain’s face.

The captain, who had a nice bruise blooming on his cheek from Emmaline’s fist, pushed the mic away and growled an obscenity at the reporter.

Bentley, undaunted, thrust the mic toward her. “What’s your name? Why are you under arrest? Who is this man with you? Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

The captain pushed Bentley away from her horse and hauled her down off it. For once Emmaline was grateful for the captain and for the loss of her glamour. If Brother Gideon or Brother Maddoc was watching the twenty-four-hour, never-ending
Faemous
show they wouldn’t recognize her. Her cover was dangerously close to being blown right now and she did not like it one bit. If her cover was blown, the fae could kiss the next piece of the
bosca fadbh
good-bye.

And she’d be locked in here with the Summer Queen forever.

They marched her through the huge double doors of the Rose Tower and down the gilt-and-rose-marble corridors to—Emmaline was certain—the throne room. Emmaline didn’t march; she limped. Dried blood caked her shin and shoe. On either side of her, richly dressed Seelie nobles, men and women, watched her pass and murmured among themselves.

Ugh. The flashbacks were rampant.

The Seelie never changed. They loved their clothes, balls, and shallow little lives. She would be a hero here if they found out who she was. There would be applause, smiles, shouts of approval for all the kills she’d made back during the wars. As it was, there were only sly, curious glances and whispering. Emmaline was grateful for that, grateful beyond belief for her anonymity.

Another heavy set of double doors opened and the Imperial Guard escorted her into a huge throne room. Whereas the Shadow Queen received her guests in a small, officelike setting, this room was the polar opposite. A fresco of the Cath Maige Tuired, depicting the Sídhe taking over Ireland from the Firbolg, spread over the arched ceiling above her head and continued down the rose quartz walls. Pillars dotted the cavernous, echoing chamber. They were the only other things marking the space besides the large self-important throne that Caoilainn Elspeth Muirgheal’s ass currently occupied.

The Summer Queen doesn’t hold any power over me now.
Emmaline hoped that if she repeated it often enough in her head it might make it true.

The queen’s skirts dripped over the edge of the throne and onto the stairs leading up to it like a pool of molten ruby. Diamonds glittered at her ears, around her throat, and on her carefully manicured fingers. Her long pale blond hair was twisted onto the top of her head and pinned there with even more diamonds. She was young-appearing, beautiful, timeless in her chilly, powerful elegance. She hadn’t changed at all.

Emmaline didn’t curtsy and it wasn’t because she was injured. She stood, head held high, gaze centered on the woman on the throne. Her expression said:
I will not bow to you. Not anymore.

The Summer Queen met her eyes in cool challenge.
“Kneel.”

The queen’s voice of power washed through her, bending her knees involuntarily. Emmaline went down on her knees with a cry of pain, the throne room going icy as a result of the Summer Queen’s flash of temper.

In that moment the last three hundred plus years washed away. Once again she was the young, unsure woman she’d been, eager for any crumb of approval from the frosty woman who was her royal . . . and the only reason Emmaline lived. The only reason Lars didn’t have dominion over her.

Then she came back to herself, remembering that she was no longer the person she’d once been. She’d lived among the humans, made a life for herself, had gained confidence and had survived on her own, without this woman’s help.

In the time she’d been away from the Summer Queen Emmaline had grown up, grown wise, come to understand that this woman was probably responsible for her parents’ deaths. That perhaps the queen had set her up from the start—manipulating her life to make sure the fae girl with the powerful glamour and the handy healing ability could be molded into a weapon.

Emmaline straightened, feeling cold, slow anger pour through her body. “What do you want from me?”

The Seelie Royal raised an eyebrow. “Is that any way to address your queen?”

Near her, the guards dropped Aeric onto his stomach. He roused a little and groaned.

“You stopped being my queen when I left Ireland,” Emmaline answered in an even voice.

The temperature in the room dropped several degrees with the rise of the Summer Queen’s anger. “Leave us!” she barked at the guards. All of them bowed deeply and left the room, closing the heavy door behind them.

“How did you find me?” Emmaline asked. “How did you—” She made a sound of frustration, turning her head away and closing her eyes for a moment on a rush of emotion. “How did you know I even entered Piefferburg?”

The queen gave a short laugh and glanced at Aeric, who had rolled to his back and was struggling to open his eyes. “Do you think
he
was the only one wishing and wanting and
waiting
for you to enter this place? I knew the moment you crossed past the wardings of Piefferburg, but he got to you first. Then you were trapped in the Black Tower and beyond my reach. I had to arrange to have you run out of the Black before I could pluck you for my own use.”

What?
Her mind fumbled for a moment, putting it all together. “You mean you arranged to have Kolbjorn come after me? To run me out of the Black? Did you . . . pay him?”

She laughed again. “No, I didn’t have to pay him. All I had to do was have a few words dropped into certain ears over in the Black. You have so many enemies over there; it was only a question of time before someone went after you. Kieran Aindréas Cairbre Aimhrea was
most
interested to hear about it. It seems his oh-so-powerful friends kept him in the dark with that pertinent little piece of information.”

Next to her on the floor, Aeric groaned. “Kieran could have killed her, you bitch.”

The Summer Queen’s eyes narrowed and Emmaline braced herself to be spanked by her magick, but the queen only lifted her chin and addressed Emmaline, as though Aeric were but a half-dead bug on the shiny marble. “I’m surprised, but grateful, that the Blacksmith didn’t get the job done . . . killing you, that is. I’m mystified as to why he didn’t. I thought you’d be lost to me forever, Emmaline, once he got his hands on you.”

Aeric pushed up from the floor carefully, his dusky blond hair shadowing his face. “Why don’t you just come out with it,
Caoilainn
? You want your assassin back.”

The Summer Queen’s hands tightened on her throne and the temperature dropped again. Emmaline was going to want a coat soon. “The Unseelie never give me the respect I deserve. If I knew it wouldn’t spark a war between the Black and Rose I would put you down right now, Blacksmith.”

Aeric raised his head and studied her through his hair. “Do that and the Shadow Queen will put
you
down.”

The queen laughed. “Aislinn? I knew her when she was a baby. She’s ignorant and untried.”

“She’s young, but powerful. Don’t underestimate her. I am claimed by the Unseelie as a subject and Emmaline is under Queen Aislinn’s protection. You can’t do anything to either of us.”

“I have no interest in you, Unseelie. You’re just along for the ride, though I would like to know what made you go from Emmaline’s killer to her protector.” The Summer Queen turned her viperlike attention back to Emmaline. “Why are you here in Piefferburg, my dear? Certainly you didn’t come just to catch up on old times.”

She didn’t want to tell the Summer Queen about the key or the piece of the
bosca fadbh
. Her jaw locked and she looked down at the floor, trying to come up with some kind of plausible story. She’d never, ever thought she’d come face-to-face with the Summer Queen with the weight of her true identity on her.

“Oh, come now. We have no secrets between us, Emmaline. I was like a mother to you at one time. I still have your crossbow, you know. Would you like to see it? Hold it, perhaps? I’m sure the wood misses the feel of your expert hands.”

Emmaline flinched as if the queen had hit her.

“We’re done here,” Aeric rasped in anger. “You can’t hold us without pissing off the Shadow Queen, so let us go.”

“Wrong,” the queen barked. “
You
can leave, Blacksmith. I’m keeping my former assassin until she sees the error of her ways. She is mine,
body and soul
, and it’s my right to hold her.”

AERIC
studied the Summer Queen from the hem of her heavy gown to the top of her diamond-encrusted hairdo. Being one of the older fae, he knew a lot about Caoilainn Elspeth Muirgheal. Already ancient at the time of his birth, she’d been queen since long before he was born, but his father often talked about the dark times before she’d taken command of the Seelie. Amazingly, she was a bringer of the light to the Seelie Tuatha Dé after a period of sadistic violence when her father had ruled.

But blatant brutality had been traded for other problems.

She was an egoist, not so much ruling her court as creating her own personal adoration society. She fed her people lies about the Unseelie, creating fear and loathing where it wasn’t necessary. She kept her court weak magickally, most thought because she feared someone might challenge her rule.

He also knew that although the Seelie as a whole were fairly harmless, the Seelie queen was not. She was infamous for ordering executions for even minor offenses; the floor Aeric stood on had seen quite a few bloody heads rolling across it. Her magick was not to be underestimated, either. She might be the ruler of fluffy bunny white magick users, but she was not one herself. The Summer Ring she wore, like the Shadow Amulet, gave her enough magick to be the ultimate defender of the Seelie Court. She could toast someone on the spot if they pissed her off enough, and she hated disrespect.

One would be wise to be cautious in her presence, speaking to her with the utmost deference and reverence.

“You will not touch her, you fucking coldhearted bitch.”

Aeric had never been cautious, deferent, or reverent.

The temperature in the room dropped below freezing for a moment and the Summer Queen rose from her throne. Her words echoed throughout the chamber, laced with angry magick that roughed their skin with the sensation of burlap. “You need to learn the meaning of the word
circumspect
, Blacksmith. It’s something you are required to be when you are in the presence of one of your betters.”

“Admit you killed her parents.” He pointed at Emmaline, who was studying the floor. “Admit you engineered everything when she was young and vulnerable in order to create the perfect assassin for your use.
Admit it!
”

Emmaline’s head snapped up and her gaze locked with his. Her eyes were wide and her lips parted in surprise. Yeah, he’d figured that part out all on his own; it had just taken him a few centuries to get there.

“Guards!” the Summer Queen yelled.

The Imperial Guard slammed the double doors open and marched into the throne room, their boots stomping on the marble and their rose and gold armor clanging.

“Admit it!” Aeric roared, advancing on the Summer Queen. The guards grabbed his upper arms and hauled him backward. He bellowed at them and fought his way free, only to have several more grab him.