Thorn Queen. Richelle Mead
crossed into the Oak Land, and suddenly it was as though the Thorn Land had never existed. You couldn’t even see it behind us. One of the guards broke his rigid demeanor to emit a small cheer that made everyone laugh. A cool, almost chill breeze rushed over us. Late autumn had settled on the Oak Land, setting the trees on fire with brilliant colors. It was gorgeous—and much more comfortable—but I secretly hoped we’d pass out of it soon. I had too many disturbing memories of this place.
Sure enough, we soon crossed into the Thorn Land again, slamming into that unforgiving heat. It felt like traveling in circles, but the others assured me we stayed on course. That stint was brief, and our next shift took us to the Rowan Land. Late summer ruled here, but it was a more temperate summer than my own kingdom’s. Cherry trees filled the landscape. Last I’d seen them, pink blossoms had covered almost every square inch of the branches. Now, as I looked closer, I could see bright red fruit weighing them down.
And it was then that the wights attacked.
Wights were denizens of the Otherworld, and while they weren’t spirits exactly, they had the ability to turn invisible. So, my guards’ vigilance had done no good. I counted seven as they swooped out of the orchards. They wore gray clothing and had long, pale faces. For the most part, they looked very much like humans and gentry. Light flared around them as they rained down bolts of power upon us. Wights were even more strongly tied to magic than the gentry, and conventional weapons had little effect on them. You had to take them down with magic. Unfortunately, the storm magic I’d inherited from my father still wasn’t quite up to hardcore attacks. Neither was my guards’ magic. Special magic-wielding soldiers aside, I’d learned most warriors here were weak in magic; it was why they’d chosen a more physical profession.
I still suspected the silver bullets in my Glock might hurt the wights. Only, I had a problem. My guards had closed rank around Nia—the only civilian here—and me. Getting a shot off would likely kill one of them.
“Let me out!” I yelled. “Let me fight!”
The guards ignored me and, in fact, redoubled their own shouts of “The queen! Protect the queen!”
Swearing, I managed to lean through and get a shot off that took one of the wights in the chest. It didn’t kill him but clearly caused severe injury. Nearby, a cherry tree ripped itself from the earth. Infused by magic and therefore potentially lethal, it attacked the wounded wight. That was Shaya’s handiwork. She had been a warrior before settling into my administration.
As we fought, I soon deduced the point of this attack. The wights wanted me—not to kill me, but for other…more amorous purposes. They didn’t seem to have much organization save to hack through and see who could get to me. Whoever did could have me.
It sickened me, and an old, familiar fear welled up. I could handle concussions, broken bones, and the other myriad effects of my vocation. Rape was not something I could contend with. It had become a daily danger, however, since learning about my half-gentry heritage. My father, honorifically dubbed Storm King, had been a tyrannical warlord—one of the most powerful magic users the Otherworld had ever seen. He’d been intent on crossing over and conquering humanity. He’d come damned close, too, until my stepfather, Roland, had defeated him. Unfortunately, a prophecy had surfaced in Storm King’s wake, a prophecy that said his daughter’s son would complete his work. That was why I was such a hot commodity among Otherworldly males who believed in Storm King’s vision. It was also why Jasmine wanted to get pregnant.
Giving up on the gun, I produced my jewel-studded wand and started simply casting out the wights to the Underworld. Instant death. As I did my thing and the guards did theirs, we suddenly reached a point where all grew quiet. The wights were dead or gone.
Everyone in my party immediately looked to see if I was all right, which I found ridiculous since two of the guards lay on the ground, and a number of them were bleeding.
“Forget about me,” I snapped. “Check on them!”
None had died, much to my relief. Gentry were hard to kill in their own world. They were long-lived and hardy. One of the guards had some healing powers, and we spent a considerable amount of time patching the group up. When we finally set out again, Shaya glanced up at the sun’s position and frowned.
“We’re going to be late.”
I thought about Kiyo. Then I thought about Maiwenn, who always looked like some sort of golden goddess, even with her belly ready to burst with Kiyo’s son or daughter. Walking in late to her elite baby party, breaching etiquette under her cool gaze…Well, suddenly I wanted to ride as we’d never ridden before.
Unfortunately, our wounded couldn’t do that. Frustrated, we finally split the party, and those of us who were uninjured rode on at a brisk pace, hoping to cut our time. Before long, we crossed to the Willow Land and slammed into its freezing temperatures. It was just coming out of winter, and spring thaws were in progress, but the chill proved a shock nonetheless. We rode on down the road, determined to get there. We finally made it.
But we were still late.
Maiwenn’s castle staff eyed our bedraggled state but showed me to a room where I could clean up and get ready. Nia practically had a conniption as Shaya and I hastily washed ourselves off and pulled on fresh clothes. Nia’s magical gifts gave her a knack for adorning others and arranging hair. Kind of a magical beautician. It killed her that I almost never utilized her services. I could see her itching to do something intricate to my hair, but I shook my head.
“No time. Make it fast. Wear it down.”
Obliging—but disapproving—she used magic and a brush to work it into gleaming, silky lengths, pulling a little of it up with a barrette and stealing a couple of small daisies from a nearby vase to tuck into the barrette. With her magic, I knew it would stay perfectly arranged for hours. I splashed on some violet perfume, hoping it would cover any sweatiness I’d missed. With that, we were off.
When Shaya and I approached the ballroom, it was obvious we were the last to arrive. The room was packed. I sighed loudly.
“It’s all right,” murmured Shaya. “You’re a queen. You’re expected to be eccentric. Don’t look embarrassed.”
“Is it possible,” I asked, “that we could just sneak in without anyone noticing?”
Before she could answer, a herald stood in the doorway and announced in a voice designed for carrying over loud crowds: “Her Royal Majesty, Queen Eugenie Markham, called Odile Dark Swan, Daughter of Tirigan the Storm King, Protector of the Thorn Land, Beloved of the Triple Moon Goddess.”
Dozens of heads swiveled toward us.
I sighed again and answered my own question. “Apparently not.”
Chapter Three
Once I stopped hyperventilating from all the attention on me, I immediately realized Nia had been right about the dress.
Like always, the gentry dressed like that they were going to a Renaissance Faire that served ecstasy. Satin, velvet, silk. Even a little leather here and there. Lots of jewelry, lots of skin. The glittering array dazzled the eye, the colors shining, rich, and vivid.
I wore a sundress meant to have sort of a vintage look. Made of tan gauze scattered with a design of tiny yellow flowers, it had an empire waist and a clingy little skirt that went to my knees. The straps tied behind my neck, and most of my back stayed bare, all the better to show off my tattoos: a woman’s face within a full moon on my neck and a line of violets on my lower back. The dress’s color looked great with the dusky, light auburn of my hair.
Unfortunately, while the shabby-chic peasant look might be expensive and very much in vogue in the human world, dressing like a peasant in a place resembling the set from an epic medieval movie made you look like, well, a peasant.
“Oh my God,” I hissed to Shaya as we walked through the room. “I look completely out of place.”
“Be quiet,” she snapped, in a rare