The Wood Queen (10 page)

“Shouldn’t you have been there all along?” Donna couldn’t resist asking. “You know,
debating
with them?”

“They can do quite well without me for half an hour,” he replied, fixing her with a piercing look that Donna wasn’t sure how to interpret. “The other Orders don’t join us too often these days, so they probably got sidetracked into deciding on other matters before they even get to your … punishment.”

Donna couldn’t hold back a snort. “Nice to know they’ve got their priorities straight.”

Quentin’s mouth quirked behind his beard. “Of course, they’re alchemists. Nothing is done without discussion and an agenda as long as my arms.” He held up one of his arms, just to demonstrate quite how long that agenda might be.

“You’ve been hiding from them!” Donna accused, realizing it was true as soon as the words left her.

The Archmaster winked. “I have no idea what you mean.”

Smiling now, she wondered if he would make her go with him.

As Quentin walked toward the door, he hesitated—a slowing of his step she almost missed, it was so brief—as he passed the beautifully carved grandfather clock against the wall. His hand brushed the front of the polished case, perhaps an unconscious gesture of affection. He took the final few steps to the door and stopped with his fingers resting on the brass handle.

“I trust you’ll wait here until someone comes to collect you?” His back was to her, but Donna thought she saw his shoulders tighten.

“I will,” she replied. Her eyes flickered to the grandfather clock. Aliette’s words rang in her mind, as clearly as the chime of that clock when it struck the hour:
the Magus hides many secrets.

Quentin turned around to face her again, almost as though he could read her thoughts. “There are enough books to keep you occupied in here,” he said.

“Of course. You know how much I love it here.”

Apparently satisfied, he opened the door and stopped in the doorway, turning to look at her once more. “Speaking of books,” he said, “you might want to ask Paige about your mother’s journal.”

“Mom’s … what?” Donna flushed, feeling her heart begin to race.

“Her journal,” he repeated. “I know you’ve always kept one—you got that habit from her, you know.”

Donna gripped her hands tightly together and forced herself to stay where she was. Why was he telling her this? And why now? “I didn’t know that,” she said, speaking slowly and trying to sound like she didn’t have the urge to fly out of her seat and beg him to tell her everything he knew about Rachel Underwood.

“Yes,” Quentin said, apparently unaware of the inner turmoil his words were causing. “Rachel filled pages and pages. I remember your aunt being particularly concerned about security, fearing your mother’s diary might be found one day.”

Donna stared at Quentin as though she’d never seen him before.
What the hell?
He was telling her something potentially huge here, right? But as she felt a spark of hope that something of her mother might have survived—something more than the shell of humanity left at the Institute, now in that hospital bed—the hope faded. Surely if Mom had kept journals, Aunt Paige would have disposed of them long ago.

Quentin stroked his beard and looked down at the floor, as though deep in thought. “You know, I remember Rachel was so worried that someone might read her journal, she took it to Maker and asked him to help her with a particularly powerful protective ward. I’m sure I’m not just imagining that.” He crossed his arms and fixed Donna with his blue gaze. “But then again, I’m just an old man. My memory isn’t what it used to be.”

And before she could reply—before she could ask him anything else—he left the room and closed the door firmly behind him. Donna allowed herself to sink back against the squashy cushions of the couch. She tried not to let excitement carry her away.

Mom had kept a journal, just like her—and this journal might still exist, if Quentin was right. But if there really were diaries belonging to her mother, why hadn’t Aunt Paige given them to her on her sixteenth birthday, when she’d given her Mom’s other belongings? There was a trunk under Donna’s bed, filled with her father’s personal items and a few of Rachel’s, too. But there had never been any journals. And Aunt Paige hadn’t mentioned any—not even to tell her that maybe they were lost.

Donna suddenly had a strong mental image of her mother’s red hair falling across her face as she leaned over a book, scribbling with an ornate fountain pen and filling the pages with looping handwriting that seemed at once familiar and strange.

But first she had to figure something out, somehow.

Donna let her gaze fall once more onto the grandfather clock that hid the secret entrance to Simon Gaunt’s laboratory. Temptation was brewing dark and thick inside her, rather like the strong herbal tea Maker always gave her whenever she went to see him for checkups on her tattoos.

This was her chance.

She wondered whether Simon had done something to protect the hidden catch that released the clock from the wall. She knew it would reveal a narrow doorway—a
doorway that led to a long corridor under the grounds of the estate, all the way to the Magus’ laboratory. Simon’s lab contained ancient alchemical tools that she hadn’t previously believed truly existed, despite her upbringing and education.

She stared at the grandfather clock and made a decision. Aliette had implied that answers might be found there … and, after all, hadn’t Quentin said she could make her own choices?

He also said that I have to live with the consequences of those choices
, she reminded herself firmly.

The words brought to mind those spoken by her mother in last night’s dream—the dream that had seemed like more than a dream.

Donna knew that if she intended to uphold her bargain with the Wood Queen and save her mother, she needed to learn how to access abilities she wasn’t even sure she possessed. “The Iron Witch”—that’s what Aliette had called her. Was there
really
more to being an Iron Witch than magically forged tattoos that gave you super-human strength?

There was only one way to find out.

The corridor seemed to go on forever—and it was
cold
—but Donna reminded herself it wasn’t like she hadn’t been here before. The seemingly natural, multi-colored gemstones that lined the damp stone walls shed enough light that she managed not to stumble as she headed for Simon’s lab, growing more confident the closer she got.

She’d been prepared for the rotten-egg stink of sulphur this time, but that didn’t make it any less unpleasant.

The door to the lab greeted her with its familiar, doom-laden plaque:

OUR WORK BEGINS
IN DARKNESS AND IN DEATH

She still couldn’t understand why it had been so easy to open the clock and get all the way down the corridor. There was no way, after what had happened last time, that Simon wouldn’t have added security. She hoped it was possible that he was so engrossed in the deliberations of the hearing that he simply hadn’t noticed her tripping an invisible ward, although that was highly unlikely.

Frowning as she stepped into the laboratory, Donna looked nervously around. She scanned the shelves for signs of Simon’s freaky alarm system, but she couldn’t see the screaming bronze statue that had alerted the Magus of her and Xan’s presence last time.

Slow Henry, the huge oven—or “athanor,” as the alchemists called it—was puffing away to himself in the center of the room. There wasn’t much about the ancient art of alchemy that was cute and fuzzy, but the giant furnace that served as the focal point of most alchemical experiments was given an affectionate nickname.

Donna shivered in the cool atmosphere and wrapped her arms around herself. She took a step back, toward the doorway, and hit something warm and solid—

“Hey, watch it!”

Spinning around, Donna came face-to-face with Navin.

“Oh my God, Nav!” She threw her arms around him in relief. “I thought someone had found me.”

He held himself stiffly in her arms for a moment, before relaxing against her and resting his hands on her shoulders. “Someone
did
find you.” He pushed her away so he could look at her, and his familiar grin brightened his whole face. “Me.”

Donna wanted to cry with happiness. Not only was Navin here, not only was he hugging her back, but he was smiling at her—the first real smile she’d seen from him since the fallout after his rescue in the Ironwood. Here he was standing in front of her in his wonderfully familiar jacket, grinning from ear to ear.

In Simon’s
lab
, of all places.

“Nav, what are you doing? How did you get down here?”

He looked mildly surprised. “I followed you, of course.”

She hugged him again, checking that he was as real as he looked. She felt a rush of confidence with her friend at her side.
No more tears over Mom’s condition
, Donna vowed;
no more dark thoughts about not having a mom
. She was going to save Rachel Underwood no matter what.

Pulling away, Donna suddenly noticed that Navin was looking at her like she was crazy.

“What?” she said, rather too defensively.

“Where were you just then, Don?” There was concern on his face now, a genuine concern born of the bond they
shared. It wasn’t the same sort of bond that she’d felt growing between herself and Xan, but it was no less important—and she’d certainly known Navin a lot longer than she’d known the mysterious Mr. Grayson …

“Sorry,” Donna said, trying to focus on what was going on right here and now.
Simon’s laboratory. Navin. Danger of discovery at any moment. Business as usual, really.
“I was just thinking about how cool it is to see you.”

Navin ran a hand through his thick black hair and did the single-eyebrow raise she’d grown so fond of. “Yeah? Well, most people don’t stare off into space and drool when they’re happy to see someone.”

“Shut up, Sharma.” Donna shoved him playfully, purposely doing it hard enough to make him stumble.

He grinned again. “I know you like attacking me—I can’t blame you for not being able to restrain yourself. I am, after all, undeniably attractive—but could you go a little easy today? It’s been a weird and screwed-up kind of weekend.”

Donna was gasping with laughter at this point. “Are you asking me to be
gentle with you
?” She was hardly able to get the words out.

“Pretty much, yeah.”

They looked at each other for a moment and then cracked up.

Donna tried to get herself back under control, reminding herself where they were. “Stop it, we have to be quiet. And what are you doing here, anyway?”

“I was looking for you. I gave Maker the slip and tried some of the public rooms—I saw the Blue Room on my way in today, which made me remember what you said about that grandfather clock.”

Donna frowned. “I actually meant, what are you doing here at all? I thought your part in the hearing was over.” She blushed, conscious of what he’d done for her. “Thank you, by the way. For testifying. When I saw you, I—”

“Was overcome by my total awesomeness?”

She rolled her eyes. “Something like that.”

He bumped her shoulder with his, and that was all it took for her to feel that everything was right with the world. Despite the fact that it very clearly
wasn’t
.

“So, you’re here because …?”

“Oh,” he said. “I asked Maker if I could be here for the verdict. They don’t know exactly when that will happen, so I get to stick around.”

Donna almost cried with gratitude. “Really? You wanted to be here to support me?”

“Actually, I was kind of hoping to see you hauled off in handcuffs. Handcuffs are hot.”

She didn’t know whether to laugh or hit him. She decided to take the non-violent option, and it wasn’t long before they were both giggling like little kids.

Then his expression turned serious again, his dark brown eyes offering the empathy she’d missed so much. “Hey, I’m sorry about your mom. How is she? I wanted to ask you yesterday, but I couldn’t get anywhere near you. I tried to come see you, I really did.”

“You did?” She tried not to look as dejected as she felt. “Nobody told me that.”

Navin reached out and touched her cheek. “Of course I did. You really think I’d let a little bit of magic keep me away?”

Donna didn’t know what to say to that. “Mom’s in a coma,” she blurted out. There would be no more secrets between them. “Xan says Mom’s under an elf curse, which confirms what Maker suspected all along: that the Wood Queen must have a lock of Mom’s hair. That’s what the elves use to drain humans of their life force, but Xan says it’s Aliette’s way of keeping her people alive.”

“Wait, slow down,” Navin said. “Xan was at the hospital?”

“Yes, I needed him to tell me if there was fey magic involved with Mom’s condition. With her sudden collapse, I mean.”

Navin was nodding, but she couldn’t help noticing the line that had appeared between his brows. “Right, of course. So, what can we do about it?”

And there it was: she’d only just vowed not to keep secrets from Navin, but now here she was, acting on the basis of a deal she’d struck with Aliette. A deal she hadn’t told him about.
I’m not hiding it from him,
Donna told herself.
I’m protecting him—there’s a difference.

If the explanation felt hollow, she did her best to ignore the nagging doubts. She’d been so obsessed with finding a way to help Mom, she hadn’t stopped to think about how Nav might feel about her spending time—by
choice—with the Wood Queen. The same “woman” who had arranged his abduction and bargained with his life like it was nothing.

She swallowed her fear. Maybe she
could
try being honest with him without actually spilling her guts right there and then. “Will you trust me if I can’t tell you everything right now?”

“Why can’t you tell me?”

“I can,” she said, quickly. “I will. When we’re out of here—but we can’t risk being found in Simon’s lab.”

Navin watched her face carefully as Donna’s emotions swept across her features. He stepped forward and folded her into his arms again. Her head rested comfortably on his shoulder and she took in the familiar scent that she loved so much. The smell of his jacket, his hair gel, the faint aroma of Indian spices from his dad’s cooking.

“I trust you, Underwood,” he whispered into her hair.

“Thank you.” Taking a deep breath, Donna pushed away from him and met his eyes. “I can do this. Tell me I can get through the next couple of days—please?”

He did the eyebrow thing again. “Of course you can. And, whatever it is, you don’t have to do it alone. You know that, right?”

She nodded, even though she also knew that she wouldn’t allow Navin to be hurt by the fey again. She’d rather have him hate her. “I know.”

He looked around them at the seemingly random piles of alchemical paraphernalia, his eyes wide. It was as though
he was finally noticing their surroundings, and Donna was relieved at his shift in focus.

“This place is different from Maker’s.” He made it a statement, but there was still the hint of a question behind the words.

“Maker is a different sort of alchemist. He didn’t take the usual route—initiate, adept, alchemist, and then magus. He’s descended from a mythological line of men and women who were talented with … making stuff.” It was tough trying to explain something that she’d taken for granted all her life. “His magic comes from his ability to create almost anything from metal.”

“Like your tattoos,” Navin touched her arm to punctuate his words. “They’re sort of alive, aren’t they?”

“Sort of,” she echoed, suddenly feeling uncomfortable having his attention back on her. “Come on, Simon’s bound to be the one to find us.”

“I think Simon’s probably too wrapped up plotting your downfall to care,” Navin said darkly, rolling his eyes. “Honestly, every time he opened his mouth yesterday I wanted to punch him.”

Donna almost smiled at that. Nav didn’t really believe in violence, but she appreciated the sentiment. “Welcome to my world.”

He laughed. “What the hell has that guy got against you, anyway?”

“Oh, you mean apart from the fact that I lost his precious elixir?”

Navin’s expression turned thoughtful as he leaned against the workbench behind him. “I know, but I don’t think that’s enough to explain the resentment he clearly has toward you. There’s more to it than that.”

Donna frowned. “It must have to do with my parents, but I don’t know what it could be. Aunt Paige won’t say a word against Simon, and I can hardly ask my mom.”

Navin’s face lit up. “Maybe not, but you might be able to find out from the journal that Quentin told you about.”

“Maybe …” Donna’s voice trailed off and she stared at him. “Wait a minute—how do you know about that? I only just found out myself!”

He smiled enigmatically. “You’re not the only one with special powers.”

Donna mock-glared at him, wishing she could do the eyebrow-raise trick. Now would be the perfect time.

Navin laughed, cutting her some slack. “I was listening outside the library door when Quentin was talking to you.”

“You were? Didn’t Quentin see you when he left?”

“I don’t think so. But I kind of got the feeling he wouldn’t care, even if he did.”

Donna secretly agreed with him, especially the more she thought about her conversation with the Archmaster. Something about the way Quentin had looked at the clock before he left—and hadn’t he
touched it
?—made her wonder if he’d been giving her another opportunity to look around in the lab. But that was crazy … wasn’t it?

Then again, he
had
left her alone in the Blue Room, and he knew that Donna wasn’t the sort of girl to just sit around waiting for the Order to summon her. She hated having to wait for things and, even more than that, she hated feeling powerless. It was a strange thing to feel when you had super-human strength, but there had been far too many times in her life when she’d been completely out of control and unable to make her own decisions.

Being able to punch a hole in a door didn’t mean much when you had to follow orders all the time and your whole life was mapped out for you by people who thought they knew best.

She nodded in the direction of Simon Gaunt’s main workbench, which was currently filled with jars of all shapes and sizes. The main feature was a long, narrow tube that wound around and around in half-circles, like a hollow glass snake.

“I think coming here again—to the lab—has helped me to confirm something, I suppose.” Donna frowned, testing out the Wood Queen’s claim by speaking it aloud. “About Simon and why the alchemists have hidden the truth about him. I was always brought up to believe he was just the secretary of the Order of the Dragon. It’s an important role, but it’s still an
administrative
role. Definitely nonmagical. Quentin’s the Archmaster, so he should be the one with all the power, but I’ve seen his lab and it’s nothing like this. It’s more like … a hobby.”

Navin frowned and looked at the equipment piled up on the bench. “So you think Simon’s the one with the power.”

“I know it,” she said, not quite ready to admit to Nav that she’d had it confirmed by the Wood Queen. In person. “But it’s weird. I mean, it doesn’t make sense—why would Quentin go along with it? Why spend all these years pretending that Simon
isn’t
a magus?”

“Maybe they only pretended for your benefit. It could be that the other alchemists know. Or, at least, the most important ones.”

She bit her lip and thought for a moment. “That would make sense, except for the fact that Robert knows.”

“Robert?”

“You know, the young alchemist wearing a lot of black. He was sitting with the representative from the Order of the Crow.”

“Oh, right. Guyliner Guy.”

Donna smiled. “That would be him. Robert’s from London, which is where the central power of the Order of the Crow is based. He’s an adept, past the apprentice stage but he only just qualified. He’s hardly someone that I’d expect to be aware of the really big secrets within the four Orders.”

Navin was nodding, a serious look on his face. He said, “I think Guyliner Guy liked me.”