To Catch a Queen (25 page)

 Up at the dais, a sword appeared in Michael’s hand. “Now may be the time for your army to make its presence known,” Amelia said to Emily. “You should go get them.”

“But Michael’s here, and that means Sophie is here, too. She has to be,” Emily protested.

“What would you do to help them if you stayed?” Athena asked.

That wasn’t really a fair question. “Moral support?” Emily suggested weakly.

“They don’t need another spectator,” Nana said.

“But it might confuse matters somewhat if yet another would-be queen arrives at the head of her army,” Amelia put in. Emily looked back and forth among the three women. If they tag-teamed, she was in trouble.

“They were going to use you, so it fits,” Athena added.

Emily couldn’t help but grin. “I like the way you think. Sophie may kill me, but I’ll die having fun.” She took Eamon’s hand. “Come on. I’ll need glamouring up. Y’all watch Beau. Don’t let him do anything stupid.” Considering that the dog was sprawled on the floor, snoring, there wasn’t much chance of anything resembling action on his part, but when Sophie was involved, there was no telling what might happen.

The audience was so caught up in the events at the front of the throne room that it was relatively easy to slip out. Even the guards had moved away from the doors in an attempt to get a better vantage point.

Things were somewhat different outside, where the festivities continued, the gathered crowd oblivious to what was taking place inside. It was probably a good thing the Realm didn’t have Jumbotrons, Emily thought. This way, she might stand a chance of having the entire crowd on her side before she entered the palace at the head of her army.

The Hunt didn’t seem to be making its rounds anymore, which made Emily wonder what they were up to. But she didn’t have time to worry about that. She and Eamon hurried up the hill to where the army still waited.

“Why would your sister have brought your grandmother?” Eamon asked as they walked.

“I have no idea. I guess theoretically she’s also in line for the throne, and she might have the kind of power Sophie does. We could probably use the help. But she’s way too much like Sophie, so this could make things very interesting.”

“She’s like Sophie?” Eamon asked warily, and she gave him a grim nod in reply.

“Let’s just say that a lot of it seems to be genetic.”

“So we should probably hurry to secure the army and return.”

“You got it.” Although she was tired, she forced herself to walk faster toward the place where the army was supposed to gather.

Fortunately, they were exactly where they were supposed to be. “Emily!” the leader said when she approached. “We were waiting for your sister’s signal.”

“You met Sophie?” It must have gone well, since they all appeared to be in one piece.

“Yes, she and her consort arrived here. You didn’t tell us your sister was queen of the Realm.”

“Now you know how I knew the queen taking action against you was an impostor.”

“Should we continue to wait for the signal?”

“Change of plans. Do you think you can glamour up some shiny armor? It seems that the queen needs an army, and it’s gotta look good.”

The Dais

Meanwhile

Sophie held her breath as she waited to see what Michael would do. She didn’t think he’d actually try to hurt her—he wasn’t that desperate yet—but what he did next would affect the plan she was still frantically spinning in her head.

She didn’t yet see a way out. She owed it to him not to be the one thing standing between him and his wife. Any temptation she might ever have had to allow him a gallant failure so he’d have to give up on saving Jennifer and move on with his life (preferably with her) was thwarted by the head-to-head nature of this trial. Defeating him would mean she’d never have him, even if he lost Jen forever, because she’d be responsible for the loss. She didn’t think he could forgive that.

At the same time, she couldn’t allow an impostor to steal her throne and use her rightful position to attack the human world, no matter who that impostor was. It was a no-win situation, and the best she could do was play for time until she could come up with an idea or someone else could make a move.

It felt like ages before Michael lunged at her with his sword. His eyes telegraphed exactly where he was aiming, so she easily danced out of the way. She didn’t think he knew anything about this kind of fighting, but she was sure that not telegraphing his moves in a fight would have been part of his police training. That must mean he was playing along. Her swordplay experience was limited to choreographed stage bouts that were more dance than fighting, but that meant she could make this look good.

She parried his thrust and focused intently on the spot just below his right shoulder, leaning her body ever so slightly in that direction before making her riposte. As she’d hoped, he saw the blow coming and blocked it. She danced back out of the way with a pirouette just for show, avoiding his retaliatory strike and parrying his riposte as she came out of the turn.

The crowd booed, and she realized that she’d been cast as the villain. She could only imagine what Niall—and it had to be Niall—had made her look like. Jen had called her a vile witch, so she probably looked like a suitably evil crone. That would certainly make some of her moves look even more impressive.

She jumped sideways to avoid Michael’s next strike, doing a grand glissade that took her legs to a near-split in mid-leap. It would be a terrible move in a real fight, but the amount of air she got looked good. As soon as she landed, she went into a series of lightning-fast chaîné turns. Spinning as she traveled, she came up behind Michael and swung at him. He caught her sword with a backswing.

They stood for a moment, their swords pressed together, and she thought he looked like he was having to work to hide a smile. This was fun, actually. Or it would be, if the stakes weren’t so life-or-death and if she knew how to end it suitably. What would happen if she let him win? If she surrendered, they might make him kill her, but maybe she could fake her death. She’d never made herself vanish in a puff of smoke, and this was no situation for trying something new, but she might be able to glamour herself in such a way that she could get out of sight, and then she could still take the crown and prove herself the rightful ruler.

But would that fulfill the magical requirements of whatever held Jen? To win, he’d have to defeat the witch, as he was ordered. She wasn’t sure a faked death or a surrender would count. Since she had no intention of actually dying, faking would be the best she could do. Maybe she could get away with just killing the hag glamour Niall must have given her.

They continued circling each other, doing the occasional thrust, parry, riposte combination. He kept his movements strong and economical, while she put in enough flash to make it look like taunting. Neither of them had drawn blood, and it sounded like the crowd was growing impatient. They were calling out for her head, booing every time Michael swung at her without killing her. When she managed a quick glance at Jen, the would-be queen looked like she was ready for this to be over with. She drummed her fingers impatiently on the arm of her throne.

That meant the fight needed to start looking a little more real. Sophie aimed her sword at the inside of Michael’s coat, where the audience couldn’t see what happened to it, hoping he got the message. Her jacket was unbuttoned, with the belt undone, so if he just got the tip of his sword inside her jacket, she could make it look like he’d got in a good strike.

He caught on right away, and she loved him a little more for it. Once his sword made it into the depths of her coat, she cried out and flinched before parrying his sword away. Instead of moving gracefully out of reach, she staggered backward, her free hand pressed against her side. The crowd roared their approval.

Sophie forced herself to move more slowly, like she was in pain, when she counterattacked. She aimed a flurry of strikes against his sword, which he easily batted away. Then he left himself open, as though encouraging her to get in a good hit of her own.

No, that’s not how this works,
she wanted to scream at him. This wasn’t about playing fair. She was the villain, the wicked witch, the evil usurper queen. He was Prince Charming. He was supposed to win, not be a gentleman and let her look good.

Then again, it did add a little drama to the proceedings if the hero got at least a bit bloody. Why not give Jen the chance to worry about him? Maybe it would jolt her more back to herself if she thought her husband was wounded. Sophie took the opening he gave her and thrust her sword into the depths of his coat with an evil cackle.

It took all Sophie’s willpower not to grin at his response. Jen might have been the actress in that marriage, but he’d picked up a thing or two. For a second, Sophie even wondered if she’d miscalculated and had actually struck him, his look of dismay and betrayal was so powerful. If he’d reached into his coat and brought back a hand covered in blood, she might not have been too surprised.

He staggered quite theatrically, and when he caught Sophie’s eye it looked to her like he was fighting not to laugh. She’d never seen him as being such a ham, but then she hadn’t spent any time with him when there wasn’t an immediate crisis, so while she knew the kind of man he was deep down inside, she didn’t really know what he was like on a day-to-day basis.

He pulled himself together with a visible effort and lunged at her. His attack was so ferocious that she had to react quickly to avoid it and barely skittered out of the way. Even though the fight was fake, she was starting to get tired, and he looked even worse. He was breathing hard and a little pale. It was time to end it.

She caught his eye, and when she was sure she had his attention, she closed her eyes in a very decisive way, trying to signal her intentions. He flinched, so she got the feeling he’d read her correctly. She nodded, and the distress on his face was evident as he raised his sword.

She built the glamour in her mind as the sword came toward her. At the last second, she ducked and rolled out of the way as she brought up the illusion that would show the old hag falling to the floor under her cloak. Meanwhile, she threw up another glamour around herself, making herself invisible as she lay on the floor. Michael should be able to see what really happened, but it was hard to tell, the distress on his face was so evident.

The crowd roared, and Michael slowly turned to face them, his sword hanging by his side. Sophie quickly added a glamour of blood to his blade so his victory would look authentic. He acknowledged the audience, then returned his attention to Jen, who had risen from the throne, beaming. She held her hands out to him, and his smile brought tears to Sophie’s eyes as he moved toward his wife.

“Michael?” Jen said softly when he came to her, reaching up to touch her husband’s face. For the first time since Sophie had known her, Jen’s eyes were clear and sharp, like she was finally fully conscious of who she was.

His eyes glittered with unshed tears as he said, “Yeah, it’s me.”

“Michael, they made me do it,” she said, her voice shaking.

“It’s okay, I know,” he replied, putting his arms around her and drawing her against his body. With a strangled sob, she buried her face against his shoulder. He dropped his sword, letting it clatter onto the floor, as he held her like he would never let her go. It looked like the happy ending of a romantic movie with the hero and heroine happily reunited and together forevermore.

Sophie had to wipe tears from her eyes. She knew she’d lost him, but seeing him this happy made it worth it. This was what she’d set out to achieve, undoing the wrong that had been done because of her. It was amazing that she could hurt so badly and yet be so dizzyingly happy at the same time. So, this was what it was to love, what she’d been missing out on with her oh-so-busy life. Maybe she could find it again, and this time with someone more available.

When the cheering and applause eventually dimmed somewhat, Tallulah broke the spell by stepping up and saying, “This is all lovely, but the fact remains that a queen needs to be crowned here today so we may all kneel before her.”

Michael and Jen broke apart enough to turn to stare at Tallulah, he in alarm, she in confusion. She glanced at Niall, as if asking for direction. Michael might have restored her to herself and made it possible for her to choose to leave the Realm, but Niall still seemed to have some hold over her. Surely he wouldn’t be crazy enough to make her put on a crown that would kill her, or did he have something else up his sleeve? Sophie couldn’t take the chance.

Removing her invisibility glamour, she let her full royal glory show as she rose to her feet. Jen gasped and put a hand to her mouth, Tallulah smiled wickedly, Niall and Orla glared daggers, and the other rulers looked relieved. The crowd close to the dais reacted with a rumble of noise that was difficult to judge, but Sophie was most focused on Michael’s face. His relief at seeing that she really was alive was almost palpable, and he gave every sign of rushing to hug her. But then a voice from the crowd cried out, “She’s an impostor!”

Sophie followed the sound and saw her grandmother moving through the crowd. Nana didn’t seem to be able to see Sophie from where she was, so Sophie suspected she was talking about Jen and didn’t know Sophie had revealed herself. But to much of the audience, it looked like she was accusing Sophie of being the fake. Before Sophie could think of a way to salvage the situation, the doors at the back of the throne room flew open with a resounding bang and a radiant figure on a white horse entered, calling out, “This queen is an impostor!”

Outside the Palace

Meanwhile

Emily wasn’t sure where the free fae managed to scare up horses or if they even had. She didn’t want to think about the possibility that she might be riding an illusion. It felt real enough. Fortunately, she didn’t feel the clothes she could see herself wearing because they looked pretty uncomfortable. She’d spent a summer in college playing a member of the royal court at a Renaissance festival, and she had a feeling that the heavy, jewel-encrusted brocade she appeared to be wearing would be even worse than full Tudor garb in July.