The Dark Queen (The Dark Queens Book 5) (6 page)

Where once it had seemed like she’d been talking to an adult, now Snow looked her age as her small shoulders slumped, and she released another silent sob. “My fairy godmother, the Blue, told me.”

Clenching tight to her upper arms fear beat a terrible rhythm in Fable’s heart; she shook her head. “Now you listen to me, little one. You tell no one of this. No one. Do you understand?”

Her brows lowered. “But father would—”

So she didn’t know just what kind of man her father actually was. Good. Because at least Fable wouldn’t be forced to shatter the poor girl’s entire world tonight. “Leave him out of this, do you hear me?”

“But we can’t just stand back and let this happen, Fable; we must do something—”

“Yes.” She nodded brusquely. “And we will.
I
will. Not you. Do you hear me? You stay out of this, Snow White. Promise me.”

A stubborn look pinched her pretty features. “I can’t—”

Fear twisted her heart in its vice grip, and Fable shook her hard. “You will!” she snapped. “Promise me!”

Startled at the vehemence and violence of Fable, Snow went absolutely still. Enough so that Fable, ashamed of what she’d done, snatched her hands back and curled them impotently upon her knees.

“I’m...I’m sorry, little Snow. Please forgive me. Only, I worry for you; you must know this. Promise me, child, promise me you will not go after your grandmother.”

Blue eyes flashed with fury. “She is not my grandmother.”

Her chin notched high, and for just a moment Fable saw George in her. Fable had seen the paintings of Violet, Snow’s birth mother. In every way, she looked a mirror image of her, but the hardness and implacability were all George, and it saddened Fable to see it in Snow.

The fury eased from Snow’s eyes, and with the enthusiasm of a child, she rushed Fable, wrapping her arms tight around her neck. “I promise, Fable. I promise. Only please don’t get hurt, she is a bad woman. I know it. I know she is.”

Relieved beyond imagining, Fable kissed the girl’s temple, inhaling the heady scent of rose and lavender in her hair deep into her lungs. The girl was the only thing that made living in this castle bearable; Fable didn’t know what she’d do if she ever lost her.

Hugging her tight, and wishing she didn’t need to let her go ever, she finally forced herself to back off.

“You need to return to your room now, child, before your absence is noted.”

Snow White nodded, wiping her nose again. “Okay. But what, what will you do?”

Giving her an immediate grin, Fable shrugged, affecting a nonchalant attitude she most certainly didn’t feel. “Oh, don’t you worry about me, little Snow. I’m resilient.” She winked, and then kissed the girl’s temple one last time. “Now go, sweetheart.”

Squeezing her hand one last time, Snow turned and walked back toward the hidden stairwell Charles had used before. Even knowing that the wall would part, and the stairwell would magically appear, the magic was seamless that it felt like a strange dream when Snow left.

Immediately she sensed the prickle of Uriah back in his mirror.

“You’re a bastard, Mirror,” she said without preamble, still staring at the stone wall.

“She asked, my queen, I could not lie to her.”

Twirling on her heel, she notched her chin, staring at his face in silence for several long heartbeats. Seeing Snow had resolved one thing in Fable’s heart. Determination.

For a week now she’d walked about in a daze, hoping idealistically perhaps, that someone might still come along and save her from this hell. She had no innate magick anymore, no power...at least that’s what she’d been telling herself, allowing her thoughts to sink deeper and deeper into depression.

But it wasn’t just her in this mess; there was Snow White to consider. For if she didn’t no one else would. That little girl would be lost and alone and raised to become one of the worst villains in all of Kingdom.

“No,” she said slowly, and this time, when she spoke her voice did not ring with sorrow, but with resolution instead.

Resolution that Mirror clearly noted because his own features changed. Where once he’d appeared morose and sad, now he looked curious and thoughtful.

“My queen?”

“You remember telling me to remember who I am?”

He nodded. The blue smoke behind his face was now threaded through with deep veins of glittering sapphire.

“Yes.” His voice echoed.

“I remember.” She nodded. “I remember, and my training begins now.”

Fable

––––––––

T
urning toward the only window in the tower, Fable walked up to it, gripped the edge and took several deep breaths.

What she was about to do was foolish by any stretch of the imagination, but she had no choice. The only one who could free her from this hell was her. Staring at the damnable wrist cuff, she clenched her jaw, took several deep breaths and began to spout off names to the wind.

“Aphrodite, come to me.”

Seconds past but her aunt did not come.

She’d expected it, of course, but she continued down the list.

“Great goddess Calypso, I call you.”

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock
. Nothing but crickets.

Squaring her shoulders, she pressed on.

“Hades, please hear me.”

Nothing.

“Apollo. Zeus. Themis...”

And on and on and on she went down the long list of names, Brunhilda was crafty, but there was no way she’d enchanted the cuff against every magick wielder in Kingdom, she only needed one to hear her.

Turning from the Greek gods to different legends, she pressed on.

“Baba Yaga.” Fable cringed after saying it, heart thundering like horses hooves in her chest, not sure she actually wanted the child eater to hear her cry.

But just as before, the witch did not answer.

Pressing on, determined to not allow herself to feel an ounce of disappointment, Fable carried on.

“Wicked Witch. Rumpelstiltskin. Bloody Mary...”

Time pressed on. The sun revolved, the sky deepened into twilight, and several hours had passed. Fable’s voice was hoarse, and tears rolled unchecked down her cheeks as her resolve of earlier faded away with each name called.

“Godmothers of Kingdom.”

Her voice cracked, and she hung her head.

Brunhilda had been far more thorough than she could have ever suspected. But to stop now meant giving up, and though she was on the verge of helplessness, Fable brokenly whispered, “Galeta the Blue, if you’re there...please—”

Instantly the room snapped with a pop of power, and a roll of brilliant blue light swayed across her flesh.

Eyes wide, and breathing heavy, Fable twirled on her heel sure that Brunhilda had come, had heard her, was here to hurt her.

Her legs ached. Her back hurt. Her head throbbed, and Fable knew that she must either be dreaming or delirious because there could be no way the Fairy Queen was actually flitting in her room.

A miniature woman with massive blue wings, cotton candy blue hair that coiled in tight spirals around her cherubic face and sharp, tiny fangs poking out as she smirked back at her. Galeta was famous—or rather infamous—within Kingdom.

Rumor had it she was somewhere between pure evil and methodically wicked. But she was Snow’s fairy godmother so she couldn’t be all bad. No doubt the stories had been greatly exaggerated as they were when it came to most of Kingdom.

Narrowing ice blue eyes, Galeta spoke. And her words instantly filled the room with the sharp nip of frost.

“I wondered if you’d ever get around to me.”

Wetting her lips, pulse pounding so hard in her ears Fable knew this couldn’t possibly be a dream, she shook her head because at the moment all the words were a jumbled, chaos of noise in her head.

Flitting forward on those massive butterfly wings, Galeta flew slowly around her body. When she finally circled back to where she’d started from, she snorted.

“So you’re the renowned darkness of legend, eh? Oh, what would your family think to see you now? Broken. Weak. And so very pathetic.” Her lip lifted into a disgusted snarl.

Bleary eyed, and exhausted from the hours spent calling out; Fable was in no mood to deal with this fairy’s nastiness. Notching her chin, she schooled her features into a cold wall and snapped, “If I’m so pathetic, why did you come?”

Galeta shrugged a pale shoulder that glimmered like freshly fallen snow in the sunlight. Her fairy dress, woven of what looked to be spiderweb silk and stained a deep blue, glinted with thousands of teardrop shaped snowflakes that had been threaded through the gown.

One thing was certain; Galeta definitely lived up to her more colorful moniker—
The Cold One
.

“Maybe,” she said in the small, childlike voice common to the fairies of the south, “I know things.”

Fable’s nostrils flared. “What sorts of things.”

Reaching a small hand up toward her hair, Galeta tugged on something and Fable flinched imagining all sorts of horrible things. Like a big hairy spider, or a slug. Hard to say with fairies, they bonded to the strangest things.

But instead of some frightening familiar, all she pulled out was a golden colored egg the size of her fist. Galeta stroked the egg tenderly with three fingers, and unbelievably the thing began to actually quiver. Like something, or someone was inside of it and enjoying the touch.

“That maybe, just maybe you and I are destined to cross paths. That perhaps, you’re calling me was no last recourse as you might imagine, but fate intersecting our paths at the right and perfect time.”

“What?” Her brows gathered in a sharp vee of confusion. “But I only called you to—”

Galeta smirked. “Oh, I know why you called me. To save you.”

Well, that wasn’t how she saw it. She’d called Galeta with the hopes of making a trade, bartering her wealth or even part of her kingdom for hers and Snow’s release. A fair and even exchange.

“No.” Galeta shrugged. “Not I, but you will save yourself.”

“Why are you doing this? Why do you seem so willing to help?”

Fable was no fool; she’d known that to call any of the names she had meant she’d be required to give up something great in return. It was simply the way of magick; nothing ever came without a deep cost attached.

But Galeta hadn’t even asked for payment; she simply continued to grin and stroke her egg.

The rumors of the fairy queen were hardly flattering. She was petty, cruel, and vindictive.

Nimue—Fable’s mother—had had her own run-ins with The Blue. Fairies weren’t the sweet, docile “grandmotherly” types they were made out to be in the legends; legends they themselves penned.

Of all the names Fable had called for, she’d not really seen The Blue as a threat, but standing here now with the fairy queen flitting before her wearing a calculated look, she shivered.

“Oh, I’m not really, dear. Believe me.” Her laughter sounded like shards of ice crashing off a cliff’s face. “You see I’ve seen the future. And there will come a time where you will pay me back in blood. Not much. You’ll hardly even miss it. I promise.”

Fable’s jaw clenched, not liking the sound of this, but knowing she was stuck between a rock and a hard place. With the cuff on her wrist, she was unable to tap into her powers to free herself.

And based upon the fact that she’d called out names for hours, and only The Blue had come, her options were few, if any.

Biting onto her lip with her sharp little fangs, Galeta eyed Fable so hard that the muscles in her thighs began to tremble with anxiety. Mother had always said the fairies were nothing more than little demons with wings, and seeing her now, Fable was inclined to believe it.

Something wicked rolled through The Blue’s head, she just knew it.

“How? How will I pay you in blood?”

Galeta flicked her words away with a roll of her wrist. “Let’s save that discussion for a later day. Right now, I’m to teach you magick. And magick you shall learn.”

“I know magick.” She lifted her wrist. “But I cannot use any; I’m locked—”

Galeta snorted. “Such, a stupid little fool you are, darkness. Magick comes in many forms. Sometimes you are born with it. But sometimes...you have to make it grow.”

When she said the last, the egg she’d held onto floated high off her palm and it started to shake.

Gently at first, then harder, and harder still, until it’s movements were violent and erratic.

For a second Fable feared the demon hadn’t been holding onto an egg at all but a weapon meant to end her until the egg suddenly stilled and then...a loud noise erupted, like the tremblings of the earth.

The castle shook. Cries sounded from within. And the floor beneath Fable’s feet actually began to dance.

Terrified, she clutched onto the edge of the bed, unable to tear her gaze off the egg that now glowed a deep and bloody red flame color.

And then with a burst, it ruptured, and out popped a miniature dragon bellowing tiny jets of flame.

Blinking, because the castle walls still echoed with the screams and shouts from below, Fable couldn’t seem to gather her thoughts into any sort of coherence.

“That tiny dragon caused the earth to shake,” she muttered in awe.

And Galeta grinned. “It is why his kind is called Earth Shaker. And he will not remain tiny for long, will you Button?” she crooned to her new tiny pet, reaching out a hand as she scratched behind his earflaps.

The dragon gave a coughing sound that sounded suspiciously happy and coated Galeta’s hand in his flame. She seemed completely unaffected by it. Looking back at Fable she nodded, causing her curls to bob and dance like charmed snakes around her heart shaped face.

“I will train you in the arts, Fable, and when I am done, it will be you who decides which path you’ll choose.”

Blinking, and completely confused, but also secretly thrilled at the prospect of learning magick at the hands of a dark faerie; Fable could only nod and say, “When can we start?”

“Why now. Of course.”

They practiced for hours. Simple things. Learning to crush the proper herbs together to create a spell. Incantations. They worked until the sun began to set, and though Fable had created no magick to speak of, she’d been a woman possessed to learn all she could.