To Catch a Queen (32 page)

A flash of anger and dismay crossed Tallulah’s face ever so briefly, but she very quickly schooled her features to act like she wasn’t worried at all. “We have yet to see the full outcome of this contest,” she said.

“Wasn’t the contest to get to the palace and bring back a rose?” Niall asked, his eyes wide and innocent—unnaturally so. He looked like one of those paintings of kids with big eyes that were probably meant to be cute, but that gave Michael the creeps.

“We have to determine the origins of this rose and what you did to obtain it,” Tallulah said. “You could have taken a rose from anywhere.”

“But where did I get this?” he asked, brandishing the crown.

“That is not proof of mastery over the Realm.”

“It’s proof of mastery over the queen, which is the same thing.” He drew closer to Tallulah, standing so that he was almost nose to nose with her. She didn’t flinch in the slightest. “I know she’s your favorite, but you’re going to have to call this one for me.”

Before Tallulah could answer, there was a strange wrenching sensation. For a long moment, Michael lost track of where he was. He couldn’t see or hear anything, and he felt detached from reality. It was similar to what happened when Sophie crossed the Realm in a step or two, but more disorienting because he wasn’t traveling. He knew he was standing still. His feet weren’t moving, and they never lost contact with the ground, but he felt like he was suddenly in a different place.

When the blur of his surroundings resolved and came into focus, he found that they were back in the palace—the real one. It looked more like he’d expect a palace to look because now it was far from deserted. He, Jen, Tallulah, and the fae rulers were arranged around the dais steps. The throne room was full of the other attendees, and the doors and windows were all open, revealing the rest of the gathering on the palace grounds, where they could also look inside.

At the head of the room, Sophie sat on the throne, her sister and the others arranged around her like courtiers. Sophie gave the little smile that Michael had learned meant someone was about to get eviscerated. “There, that’s better,” she said sweetly—too sweetly, her voice full of steel magnolia honey. “I realized that I designed this test badly. What does
crossing
the Realm really say about one’s mastery of it? So I brought the Realm to me.” She handed a rose to Emily, who took it to Tallulah. “Here’s my rose, and there’s a whole garden of them out there.”

“This is an interesting development,” Tallulah said, barely concealing a smile. “While the test was presented in terms of a race, the point of it was to demonstrate mastery of the Realm. Niall won the race, but who can argue that transporting the residents of the Realm by rearranging the Realm itself demonstrates the kind of mastery none of us could achieve?” She turned to Niall. “Unless you would like to try?”

Michael hadn’t seen a fairy redden with rage, but Niall showed that it was possible. “You’re bending the rules to suit your favorite,” he accused.

“Then perhaps you should show us how you won the race,” Tallulah suggested.

Sophie nodded ever so slightly to Eamon, and a moment later a blond fairy in a maid’s uniform rushed to Niall. “You won!” she cried out, throwing her arms around him. “Now we will rule side by side!” Only when she pulled back to see his reaction did Michael recognize Maeve. Next to him, Jen stiffened. Jen had been Maeve’s captive, and Maeve had kept her, even after realizing she wasn’t the woman she sought.

Niall looked even more distressed than Jen at Maeve’s appearance, though probably because his consort was coming toward him with a glare that made everyone present take a step back. “You were going to rule with
her
at your side?” she asked, her voice icy in spite of the storm raging on her face.

“No!” he cried out, trying to shrug his way out of Maeve’s embrace. “She must have misunderstood. I just needed her help to get into the palace.”

Now Maeve was outraged. “You were using me? You
promised
.”

All the while, Sophie leaned an elbow on the arm of her throne and watched as if she was enjoying a particularly juicy soap opera. She’d clearly engineered the situation for maximum dramatic impact. The fairies in attendance watched with equal relish. They knew a good scene when they saw it, and they laughed out loud. The laughter didn’t sit at all well with Niall, who tried to distance himself from both the women he’d wronged, even as he glared at the crowd.

“The test was to manipulate the Realm, not a person,” Tallulah said with barely restrained glee. “You may have won the race, but you did not win the contest.” A cheer rose from the assembly, and Sophie allowed herself a slight smile of triumph.

“But I have the crown!” Niall shouted, raising it over his head. “How did I get that, if not by besting the queen?”

“If you believe you won that crown fairly enough that it and the Realm will accept your rule, feel free to put it on,” Sophie said, still with that honeyed tone that implied she was seriously pissed-off, but was too much of a Southern belle to let it show. The “bless your heart” was implied.

Every eye in the throne room—and probably a lot of eyes from outside, as well—focused on Niall to see what he’d do. He studied the crown for a long time, as though trying to decide what would happen to him and whether he could really have been considered a winner. At last, he beckoned to one of the handmaidens and set the crown down on the floral pillow. “The Realm must choose the winner, so it would be inappropriate to crown myself prematurely,” he said with a slight bow to Tallulah.

“Yes, there is the final vote,” the fairy woman said. “This will decide who wins the crown.” She raised her voice and addressed the crowd. “You have seen how the contestants, the crowned queens and the challenger, have fared in a series of tests. These tests measured the skills that are of value to the fae. But no ruler can lead without the acceptance of her—or his—people. The final test will be one of loyalty as the citizens of the Realm choose their new ruler based on what they’ve seen in this contest.”

That sounded to Michael suspiciously like a democracy, which the free fae should like. But who would they choose? Had Sophie and her grandmother done enough to demonstrate that they were worthy of leading the Realm in spite of only having a trace of fae ancestry?

“The two candidates may state their cases to those they would rule,” Tallulah declared. “The challenger first.”

She gestured to Niall, who came to stand at the front of the dais, directly in front of Sophie’s throne, where he blocked her from view. “You’ve seen the contest and who has won fairly and who has benefited from some perhaps questionable calls.” Michael wondered if he even remembered that he’d benefited from at least one of those calls. “But the real key here is that I am fae. Should the Realm not be ruled by one of our own? The human influence on the Realm is already too great. Should we really have a human as a ruler? That would be most irregular. As your king, I would create a truly fae Realm and return us to our former glory.”

There was polite applause, with a few who sounded slightly more enthusiastic. Tallulah waited for it to die down, and then waited a few moments more, until the silence grew uncomfortable, before she gestured to Sophie.

Sophie rose from the throne, took her grandmother’s hand, and the two of them walked together, stopping halfway down the dais steps, still enough above the people to be seen, but far enough down to not appear overly distanced from them. “To be honest, I didn’t really want to take this crown,” Sophie said. “I did it out of duty to my ancestor, who thought she was leaving the Realm to flourish on its own. In case the Realm ever needed a queen again, she left the knowledge of how to regain the throne with her descendants, and that is how my grandmother and I came to be here. I awoke the Realm when I took the throne and crown after winning them with my blood and success in the ancient trials. My grandmother has also passed the trials and won the right to wear the crown.”

The crowd applauded, and when the applause died, Sophie continued. “The Realm only needs a ruler to keep the land awake and to settle disputes. I intend to change very little. Those of you who want courts may live among them. The free will only notice that they have a ruler if they need to resort to royal judgment. I ask only that all residents of the Realm deal fairly with each other, regardless of who they are—human, or any variety of fae.”

That got even more applause. With a glance over her shoulder at Niall, Sophie added. “If I were you, I’d worry about a ruler who first attempted to gain power through trickery, putting an impostor under his control on the throne. Look at what he did in that impostor’s name. He used the Hunt to menace his subjects. Is that the kind of ruler you want?”

There was shouting this time, mostly from the wilder fairies. Tallulah stepped in, motioning for the crowd to be silent, and Sophie and her grandmother moved aside. “Who among you choose Niall as ruler?” Tallulah called out.

The more medieval-looking of the rulers came forward and knelt in front of Niall. His consort—probably now “former”—very pointedly did not. A few of the attendees dressed in his 1930s style, the mid-century style of Maeve’s old court, or the medieval fantasy-land style moved forward to kneel. Michael didn’t notice much action out on the grounds. There were one or two cheers.

Tallulah nodded, then said, “And for the two ladies?”

There was a long silence that made Michael nervous. It was like no one wanted to move first. Jen surprised him by releasing his arm and moving to kneel in front of the Drakes. “I apologize for allowing myself to be used as an impostor,” she said.

Taking a cue from her, Michael moved forward and bowed, as did the enchantresses, Eamon, and Emily. A rustling and rumbling rolled through the room behind him, and Michael couldn’t resist a glance.

The Hunt, still in their renewed form as a royal guard and dismounted from their steeds, marched down the center of the throne room, bowed to Sophie when they reached the front, and took positions to either side of her. Behind them came the free fae and human army Emily had recruited. Following them was a flood of the wild fae, with a few in courtly costumes sprinkled throughout. It looked to Michael like about as definitive a victory as anyone could hope for. It was a landslide.

Once it was clear where things lay, some of the court members joined in. Even Niall’s former consort went over to give Sophie and her grandmother a perfunctory curtsy.

It looked like this would go on all day, but Tallulah raised her hands over her head and shouted, “The Realm has decided. These ladies will now be our rightful rulers.”

The cheer that arose was deafening. Michael could imagine that it echoed throughout the Realm. He was surprised to see that instead of grinning in triumph, Sophie actually looked somewhat humbled, like the acceptance of the people had truly touched her. Her mismatched eyes were bright with tears, and her lower lip quivered.

Her grandmother looked more serene about it. She gave the impression of someone born to this kind of adulation, nodding and smiling to each person who came before her.

With a roar of rage, Niall rushed toward the two Drake women, a sword materializing in his hand as he attacked. Sophie moved automatically to shield her grandmother. There was a flash of light, and Michael couldn’t tell if Sophie had managed to block the blow magically or if she’d taken the hit.

He didn’t stop to find out before rushing to tackle the fairy. He wasn’t sure what he expected to be able to do, but when someone waved a weapon in a crowd, his cop instincts kicked in. Niall easily brushed him aside without laying a hand on him, and Michael went rolling across the dais, barely stopping himself before he went over the edge and down the steps.

From where he lay, it didn’t look like Sophie was hurt, but she was having to fight magically against both magic and a weapon that seemed to be physical. Suddenly, Niall yelped. Michael hadn’t seen Sophie get in a blow, but then he noticed Beau with Niall’s ankle clamped firmly in his jaws.

By this time, the leaders of the Hunt had made it up the steps. “You shall not attack our queens,” the lead Huntsman said in his eerie, booming voice. Michael wasn’t sure what the Huntsman did to Niall, but the attack stopped instantly and Niall was being drawn inexorably toward the Hunt, fighting every inch of the way. Beau was dragged behind for a few feet before the dog apparently decided the Hunt had it under control and released his grip.

When Niall reached the Hunt, he changed. Gone was his tuxedo, replaced with armor. A helmet covered his handsome face, horns growing out of holes in the helmet. “You will now serve the queens for eternity,” the Huntsman boomed.

The Hunt turned and trooped away, back down the middle of the throne room to the great doors. Michael couldn’t pick out which one of them was Niall. Even Sophie looked a little stunned by this development.

Jen came over to where Michael still lay and knelt beside him. “Are you okay?” she asked, helping him sit up.

“Yeah. Probably just a few new bruises,” he said.

“Good,” she said, but her voice trailed off before she could even finish the one word. He followed her gaze and saw the fairy man she’d been clinging to the last time he was here. The man stared at her like a man fearful of losing a great love—the way Michael must have looked his last time in the Realm when he’d been forced to leave Jen behind. Michael turned to look at Jen, but he couldn’t read her face. Did she still have feelings for this guy? Had she ever had feelings for him, or had that just been part of the spell she was under as a captive?

Whatever it was, he needed to get Jen out of here as soon as possible. The contest, battle, or whatever this had been was well and truly over. Leonie appeared serene as she gazed out upon her subjects, but Sophie looked utterly exhausted. He met her eyes, and she nodded.

“I suppose it’s time to go home,” she said, gesturing to her grandmother, the enchantresses, and Emily, who’d picked up Beau’s leash. Coming over to Michael and Jen, Sophie said, “Ready?”