Queen of Hearts (The Risen King) (6 page)

The others were settling in and the door closed heavily behind Arthur. He was the last to enter and a hush slowly fell over the room as he walked to his seat. By the time he had reached it, silence reigned. The king stood at his chair and looked around the room. He had to spin to see everyone. His eyes paused briefly on Aiofe, but she returned his look with a glare of her own.

“Right,” Arthur said as he took his seat. “We have a lot to discuss today. There have been several developments since the last time we met, and we need to revise our initial plan. As you all know, Leanansidhe showed up when we were returning Aiofe home. As did Kane. Kane swapped his allegiance, again, and turned on Leanansidhe. They were both injured, quite badly, and Kane has been returned to my mother at Castle Eiri Greine. He is currently under the care of the queen. Any update, Zela?”

Zela stood up from her seat next to Aiofe. “He is stable, healing. My mother is one of the best healers in the land. He will recover, though it will be awhile. Until then, he is being held under strict guard. He will not make a move that we do not know about. He will have no visitors, no access to the outside at all. He will be guarded at all times, by those we trust completely. He will have no contact with Leanansidhe.”

“How can you promise that?” Deklen stood up from his chair opposite Zela. “He fooled you all once. How can you be so sure he wouldn't do it again?”

Zela bristled as Deklen crossed his arms and raised his eyebrows at her. His challenge was one that everyone, including Zela, worried about. “It will not happen again. If it does, he is dead. There are no more chances for him.”

Deklen snorted. “He shouldn't have had so many chances to begin with. Your mother gave him too much freedom. He got away with too much, always coddled, always given excuses. And look where it brought us! We're in a war, and it's all because of him.”

“
It is not!“ The air around Zela crackled as she stepped away from her chair. “This war was not caused by my brother. It was caused by your aunt!“ Zela pointed a finger at Deklen. “She's related to you. How do we know that
you're
not helping her?” Small sparks of lightning danced around Zela's fists as they clenched at her sides.

“
Enough!“ Eden rose from her chair and clapped her hands together. A booming echo resounded through the room. “You are acting like children, yet again. Can we ever have a discussion where you two don't devolve into petty argument?” She sighed and shook her head. “We're going to move on. Before we discuss anything else, we need to find out why Guinevere has returned from the dead. Bring her in.”

She spoke the command to no one in particular, but a moment later the doors swung wide. Two faery knights of the castle entered. Guinevere stood between them. She wore a new dress and her boots had been cleaned off. The wounds on her exposed skin had been cleaned and were healing. Her hair was combed and shone brightly in the flickering light of the torch beside her. An empty chair stood near the door and one of the guards beckoned her toward it. She shuffled over, keeping her shoulders hunched and her head low, and settled into the chair.

Eden left her spot and walked around the room. She glanced over at Aiofe briefly, then at Arthur, before she turned her attention to the woman. “Please tell us your name.”

Guinevere cowered in her chair. “You know my name,” she said softly, refusing to look at the woman. Instead, she craned her head around and tried to find Arthur. Aiofe watched as the blond woman smiled at the king. He kept his eyes firmly on the table.

Eden didn't relent. “Tell us your name.” Her voice was no longer soft. It had a hard edge to it and demanded a response.

Guinevere pulled her eyes away from Arthur and met the faery's stare. “Guinevere,” she said, giving the single word a little edge of snippiness. Then she added, “Queen of Camelot.”

Eden didn't acknowledge the second part. “And how did you come to be here, Guinevere?”

“
Arthur let me in.”

Eden closed her eyes for the briefest of seconds. “You know that's not what I meant. Why are you in Faery?”

Guinevere's shoulders sagged and she looked at Arthur again. Her eyes darted between him and Lancelot, pleading for support, but neither man would look at her. Finally she gave up and looked back at Eden. “I don't know.”

The skin on Eden's cheeks moved as her jaw worked. “Then tell us what you do know.” Her lips pursed and she crossed her arms in front of her. Her patience was wearing thin.

Guinevere blinked at her a couple times before conceding. “Fine,” she said as she crossed her legs and got comfortable in the chair. “The first thing I remember is waking up in the woods. I don't know where. It was just some spot under a large tree. I heard hushed whispers nearby, like someone was talking, so I opened my eyes and sat up, but there was no one around. It was so weird. I started walking. I didn't know where I was or where I was going. I felt weird, too. My hands weren't wrinkled like they should have been, and I felt young. It was like a dream, but I knew I wasn't sleeping anymore.

“
I kept walking until I heard voices and laughter. I followed the sound until I found a clearing. What I saw...” She shuddered before continuing. “There were a bunch of those things, those things that chased me. They were all gathered around a fire, laughing and talking as they roasted up some poor beast. I heard one of them say something about Arthur, which was very weird. I pinched myself, hoping I was sleeping, but it hurt so much I yelped. They saw me and I took off running. They hooted and hollered and chased me until I couldn't breathe anymore. I thought I was going to die, but then I saw the castle. So I ran toward it. And as I was coming near the gate, there was Arthur. He came to save me, just as he always did.”

She beamed at him. He had raised his head to stare at her while she told her story and he found himself looking into her blue eyes. With a start, he jerked his head to the side to break the gaze. He pressed his lips together and found a spot on his tunic to be far more interesting.

“What did you hear them talking about around the fire?” Eden prodded the woman.

Guinevere continued to look at Arthur with a smile on her face and Eden had to prod her again to get her to respond. “Oh, I don't know,” she said, waving a hand in the air. “Something about an attack. They mentioned a queen, Leanansidhe? How she wanted to take over a castle or something?” Guinevere clapped her hands to her mouth and gasped. When she pulled them away, she said, “Oh no, do you think they meant they were going to attack here?”

As if on cue, a low, powerful hum sounded throughout the castle. Every single person jerked their head toward the door. Calis, a knight of the guard, burst through the door. “Your majesty,” he said as he fell to one knee before Arthur. “We need aid, sir. We are under attack.”

*~*~*

SEVEN

*~*~*

Eden glanced back at Arthur before drawing her sword. He was on his feet and called to Rogan for his sword and armor as he ran toward the door. The others were surging to their feet behind him, each reaching for their own weapons if they had them handy, calling for them if they didn't. They flooded out into the hall, their shouts echoing around the castle as they ran toward the courtyard. Arthur paused beside Eden before he left the room.

“Secure her.” He pointed his sword toward Guinevere as he looked toward the knights on either side of her.

“
Yes, m'lord,” they said, even as Guinevere rose to her feet in protest.

“
But Arthur--“

He held up his hand to cut her off and pushed through the door so he wouldn't have to listen to her.

Aiofe stood next to Zela out in the hall. Her fingers itched for her bow and she held her hand out with relief when she saw Lilia bounding down the stairs. The bow settled perfectly in her hand as Lilia slipped a quiver of arrows over Aiofe's shoulder. They were not the bone-white arrows Aiofe expected. Instead, they were a deep burnt orange.

“
What are these?” Aiofe asked as she nodded cocked her head toward the arrows.

“
Enchanted, m'lady.” She spun on her heel and raced back up the stairs to join the other servants who were gathering on the roof.

Aiofe pulled one from the quiver and examined it as she and Zela trotted toward the door to the courtyard. The burnt orange swirled with blacks and olive greens, seemingly of its own accord. The feathers were a black and silver with spots that danced and jumped from feather to feather.

“They'll return to you,” Zela said as they trotted down the steps, following the surge of warriors toward the stairs on the wall. “When you fire one, the feathers will help steer it toward its mark. Do not take that as an excuse to be careless, though. They can only do so much, minor adjustments here and there. They rely on you to do most of the work. And when the quiver is running low, call for them and they will return.”

Gasps echoed down from the wall above as the first of the knights reached the top. Aiofe waited at the bottom, fear pumping through her veins as she watched the reactions above her. “What do I say?”

“You'll know when the time comes. They are linked to the bow. The bow will tell you. Now focus.”

They ascended the stairs behind Bors and Calis. As the knights reached the top, they parted and let the women through. Aiofe stepped forward and looked at the area surrounding the castle. The wide field that seemed to go on forever was filling with faeries of the greatest assortment Aiofe had ever seen. Blood whelps stood next to sprites, red caps scampered around banewolves, trolls and imps and bogies brandished weapons and shouted at the knights.

Two trolls were stomping across the field, shaking the ground as they made a beeline for the gates. They reached the big stone and wood barrier and began pounding against the doors with all their might. They doors were reinforced with nearly unbreakable magic, but that didn't make the occupants inside feel much safer as the trolls were joined by faeries of all sizes and shapes.

“
Is that Seloreth?” Drakka leaned against the wall and cupped her hands to her eyes. Her brother walked up to her and she pointed at a faery in the middle of the crowd. Deklen followed her finger and his jaw dropped. The white skin and black hair were unmistakable.

“
It is. He is not one I ever imagined would turn on us. Especially not for the likes of Leanansidhe.”

“
I do not think he had a choice in the matter. He died in the last battle against Leanansidhe's forces. I watched the arrow pierce his chest.” Drakka snapped her fingers at Calis. “Your scope, knight.”

The faery handed her a short tube. She grabbed either end and pulled, lengthening it out so she could look through the fatter end. “Look,” she said as she handed the scope to her brother. The general of the North pressed the tube to his eye. “I don't believe it.” The man's skin was not white. It was gray and pieces of it were rotting off. His black eyes were dull and stared straight ahead. His armor was ripped and burned in spots. He held himself at an angle, his head and hips cocked to the side, very unbecoming of a royal knight.

“What? What's wrong?” Aiofe, shorter than either of them, had her hands on the wall and was pushing herself up on to her tiptoes to survey the surging crowd below. Scattered throughout the wicked creatures were other faces, more human faces. Aiofe recognized one, a faery she had passed on her way to meet Arthur for the first time. She had watched him fall in battle. Her eyes narrowed as she looked away from him to Deklen. “What's going on?”

Deklen ignored her and instead handed the scope to Zela. The blond general took it and scanned the crowd. “It's as we feared. She has corrupted them.”

“A lot of them.” Eden stood on the other side of Zela. She didn't need the scope to see all the faces in the crowd that she recognized. “The battle was a ruse. A play for bodies. We more than doubled the size of her army. How far does it go?”

No one answered. They all watched as more and more of the abominations poured out of the woods and surrounded the castle. Tristan raised his bow and aimed at one of the closer faeries. The woman had blond hair and the distinctive features of a Southern faery, but her skin had a pale cast to it instead of the normal bronze color and her mouth hung open in a groan. The arrow sliced through the air and sank into her shoulder as she moved forward. She stumbled back a step and stopped. Her head cocked to the side as she looked at the arrow. The warriors on the wall watched in horror as she raised her hand and wrapped her fingers around the shaft. With a jerk, she pulled the arrow from her flesh and stared at it. Then she raised her eyes to the wall. They scanned the crowd until they settled on a faery guard in the front. She raised her arm and launched the arrow with the strength of a troll. It whistled through the air, shedding the blood and gore from the woman. It hit the guard in the middle of his chest, slicing through the armor he wore like it was nothing. He stared at the arrow for half a second before collapsing in an unmoving heap.

“Everyone back!“ Arthur shouted as a hail of arrows soared toward them from below. Archers from below, both alive and dead, sent arrow after arrow onto the wall. Faeries fell left and right as the knights and other warriors hid beneath their shields.