The Red Queen (8 page)

The way they talked to her and about her was as if she were a rabid feline. These two boys had no respect for her.
“Remember who you are?”
She mimicked Ashburn’s tone. “I know who I am. I am the Siren, the greatest among all!”

“Get out of the ring,” the Czech prince ordered his companion. “You can’t read her thoughts and you aren’t a skilled swordsman. She’ll cut you in half.”

“I can help her,” Ashburn said.

“You’ll just get in the way!” Vladimir said.

While Ashburn hesitated, Lucienne kicked Vladimir in the knee and brought her weapon toward Ashburn. “Going somewhere, gorgeous? But the fun has just started.”

Vladimir blocked her sword from the side. “Now’s the time to use your bolts,” he instructed Ashburn. “Stun her only.”

“My lightning shocks you, not her,” Ashburn said. “My power won’t hurt her.”

“Then find a way to incapacitate her while you’re doing nothing,” Vladimir said.

“Then you show me how to get it done!” Ashburn shot back.

“There’s nothing you can do, boys,” Lucienne purred. She moved like the wind. The power coursed through her, making her feel so free. She scored twice. The tip of her blade grazed both boys’ cheeks.
My mark.

The blood flowing from their wounds excited her. “This is only a tease,” she promised.

“Lucia!”

“Lucienne!”

“Lucienne Lam!”

Why did so many people shout her names? What did they want? So annoying.

“She can’t hear you,” said Ziyi.

The Chinese girl had joined her audience, but she was wrong. Lucienne could hear everything. She was just fed up with answering everyone. From her experience, they always wanted something from her. Always demanding.

“You must stop her,” Ziyi said. “If she returns to herself, only to realize she hurt either of you badly, she’ll never recover.”

“Very cute, Shorty,” Lucienne said. “But if I were you, I’d shut up. You don’t want me to fix my attention on you today.” She glanced at the girl, who opened her mouth agape at the threat. “But if you want to join the rank of these two insolent boys, be my guest. But you’re basically useless when it comes to fighting.”

Ashburn blocked a blow meant for Vladimir while she was distracted by that super-annoying girl. “You two just keep returning each other’s favors?” she asked them. “
My enemy’s enemy is my friend
. You two are learning.”

“We’re not your enemy, láska.” Vladimir drew a breath. “We’re your friends. More than friends.”

“Now you want to be my friends?” Lucienne laughed her silky laughter and swirled to the side. It was a feint. She cut a strand of silver hair from Ashburn.
Souvenir
. She put the hair under her nose and sniffed it. At the same time, her sword hand swept the weapon upward to fend off Vladimir. The sneaky Czech was trying to disarm her while she pretended to be sidetracked. “Take advantage of a girl?” she asked. “You’re excellent at it, Blazek. But I, Lucienne Lam, don’t allow anyone, especially men, to walk all over me.” She dashed aside and lunged, her sword meeting Vladimir’s double blade again and again. From a mixed look of appreciation and apprehension on his face, she could tell she was faster than any opponent he’d ever fought. But several rounds later, when she still couldn’t bring him to his knees, she wasn’t thrilled.

Lucienne sent Forbidden Glory through her blade.

“Let’s see how good you are at taking this,” she snickered.

Fire flared from the clash of steel. The Czech prince jumped back with a yelp. His eyes widened, but he didn’t let go of the hilt of his scimitar.

The men, who had scattered, returned and shouted out cheers, awed by her power. Lucienne was pleased. Many of them had never seen her in action. Now they witnessed how terrifying and powerful their Siren was.

Behold! Behold the power flowing in my veins.

Her sword sailing, Lucienne cut off a lock of Vladimir’s wheat-colored braid before he wheeled away. She brought the strand of his hair under her nose too. It smelled of rosemary, chamomile, and nettle.

“Russian Amber Imperial, isn’t it?” she asked with a lopsided smirk. “You have expensive taste, prince. Ash uses only plain lavender soap.”

Do not hurt them! Please.
Who made the pathetic wailing? For a moment, she almost thought it was her own voice. “Someone tried to get in my head, begging me not to kill you,” she said. “I’ve given it a thought. It would be a pity to rid the world of both of you. Maybe I should keep one of you as my pet. Who’s going to be the lucky one?”

Ashburn thrust his Viking sword toward her from behind.

“And I thought you weren’t the irritating one, Ashburn Fury.” She parried backwards without turning. “I can blindfold myself and still beat you both.”

Then she heard roars.
Oh, brother
. Kian McQuillen arrived. He threatened to punish the men with court martial if they didn’t disappear from his sight in two seconds.
The buzz killer
.

The spectators were gone. Now there were only her opponents, Kian, and her personal guards. The petite Chinese girl in qipao also stayed, looking sadly lost and terrified.

“Lucienne Lam,” Kian called, advancing toward her. “Put down your sword.”

“Why should I?” She looked at him defiantly, a hand on her hip. “And who are you to order me, McQuillen?”

Kian narrowed his eyes. For the first time, they weren’t warm toward her.

“Are you going to join them and fight me?” She sent him another challenge. They were prey. She could bring down all of them. She could take down an army, like she’d done in the Sealers’ Temple of Lemuria.

“I’m on your side,” said Kian.

“Then don’t get in my way,” she said.

“Fight me,” said Kian, “and me alone.” He gestured for Vladimir and Ashburn to step aside. They gave him a tentative look before obeying him.

“You’re the shrewd one, Kian,” she said. “You’ve taught me since I was little. You know my every move.”

“Not every move,” Kian said coolly. “You picked up a few tricks on your own.”

Lucienne laughed. But why did her laughter sound strange and coarse to her own ears?

“I’m unarmed.” Kian raised his hands in the air. “You’ve crossed swords with two despicable boys and won. Why don’t you and I go for variety? A fistfight. I promise it’ll be more fun.”

“Clever,” Lucienne said. “You want to strip away my weapons. No matter.” She tossed the Chiyoganemaru sword aside, and Thaddeus at once lurched toward it, removing it from her sight. “What are the rules, old man?”

“Three rounds. Whoever loses won’t pick another fight, but will go home quietly.” 

“And the winner will do whatever he or she wants,” said Lucienne.

“Deal.” Kian adopted a boxing pose, gesturing for Lucienne to make the first move.

"I can never win in a boxing match against you," Lucienne said. "But you forgot one thing, Chief McQuillen.” She flashed him a devious grin. “I don’t need a weapon. I
am
the weapon.” She stood where she was, five yards from him, and raised her hands in the air. Energy burst from her; the wild wind manifested itself, sweeping Kian off his feet and sending him flying several yards away. Until he crashed to the ground.

“Chief McQuillen,” Ziyi rushed toward Kian with a wince, “can you stand? She didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Kian was up in a second, waving the girl away. There was no anger in his hard sapphire eyes, but a mosaic of sadness, pride, and heaviness.

“I wouldn’t really hurt Kian,” Lucienne said. “I love the man. I just need to show him my power, so he won’t always stand in my way. However,” she turned to point two fingers at Vladimir and Ashburn, “these two show me no respect.” She watched their disagreeable expressions. “Have you seen the looks they just give me? They talk about teaching each other a lesson. Now they’re going to learn that lesson for their insufferable arrogance.” Slowly she pulled a hunting knife out from her boot. “But which one should I stab first?” Her gaze flickered from Vladimir to Ashburn, back and forth.

They stared at her grimly.

“Ziyi,” Lucienne called, “I’m having a hard time here. You’re my genius. Help me decide.”

Ziyi scrambled to Lucienne’s side in her stilettos, but kept a safe distance. “Stabbing is no fun. What about slapping them? It’s more insulting.” She made a dash toward Vladimir. “I really want to slap this one.”

Vladimir grabbed Ziyi’s wrist in the air.

“Play along,” Ziyi hissed at the Czech prince.

“I don’t care,” Vladimir said. “No one slaps me, not even her.”

“You’d rather be stabbed?” Ziyi hissed.

“You know, I have super hearing.” Lucienne shifted her attention toward them. “And good job, Ziyi. You just helped me find my target.” She stalked toward Vladimir, eyeing the scimitar in his hand.

Vladimir tossed his sword at her feet as he held her gaze. “I’m yours,” he said. “Do whatever you want with me.” He shoved off his leather jacket, flung it away, and tore open the black shirt that hugged his torso, exposing his bare, hard-muscled chest before her.

Lucienne stared at it for a long moment. It would be nice to lay her head on that chest. Vladimir rasped under the weight of her examination. He was turned on by her, but she wouldn’t be seduced. She removed her gaze from his chest and peeked into his hazel eyes. They weren’t as bright as she’d remembered. Anguish dulled them. Who caused such tremendous pain in him? But under its dark layer was an ocean of tenderness and love.

This one had a great capacity to love, and no amount of ache could kill it. Was that love for her or for someone else? It couldn’t be for her. He knew she wanted to knife him. A pang of jealousy struck Lucienne, and she didn’t expect that. She looked down at her knife, its tip pressing against his heart.

Kian moved toward them. “What are you doing, idiot?” he snarled at Vladimir.

“I need her to see the truth about herself.” Vladimir sent out a warning look: do-not-interfere. “When she does, she’ll make a comeback.”

What truth?
She didn’t know the truth. They must have kept it from her. Anger spiking in her, Lucienne slowly sank the sharp tip of the blade toward Vladimir’s heart. It punctured his skin, drawing a sequence of droplets.

Red excited her. Two more inches, and the blade would pierce the warrior’s heart. She could almost hear it fluttering, like a bird’s struggling wings. Lucienne peeped into his darkened eyes again, expecting to see his sizzling hate beneath the pain, but all she saw was unfaltering, undying love.

This boy allowed her to take his life. His vow to her rang in her ears, “I’ve given you my heart and I’ll never take it back. I’ll never love another except you.”

She had a vague feeling that if she cut out the heart of this boy, it would be the end of her as well. The dagger in her hand became an unbearable burden. Her hand haltered.

But Forbidden Glory didn’t particularly care for the affair of the heart. It spurred her, demanding a blood sacrifice.
Since he’s given you his heart, it’s yours to take
.
The sacrifice of a great love will make us stronger
.

She’d been weak, she knew. She must be stronger if she wanted to survive. Fluttering her eyelids shut and feeling the ache in her own heart, Lucienne drove the knife toward Vladimir’s.

“Lucienne Lam!” Kian grabbed her wrist above the knife.

She turned to Kian, the mad gleam in her eyes reflected in his. Was that how they saw her? But that wasn’t really her. A trace of regret and bitterness and shame came over her.

“My power wants him. I was poisoned because of him.” With that knowledge, anger returned. “Didn’t I tell you not to get in my way, Kian McQuillen?” Her free hand shoved Kian’s chest with the power of Forbidden Glory.

Kian staggered back. “Lucienne, stop this madness!”

How she hated the word
madness
. “All of you hate him, and many of you want him dead,” she said. “Now I’m doing what you wish, and all of a sudden, you want me to stop it. Make up your minds.”

“It’s not for his sake,” Ashburn said. “It’s for yours.”

“For my sake?” Lucienne snorted. “How sweet. Let’s see what I’ll do for
my
sake.” Their disapproval only irked her. She wouldn’t allow them to shame her. Seething, she twirled the knife in her hand, its tip pressing against Vladimir’s skin again, at the same spot where his blood had streamed, ready to drive home into his heart.

“Go ahead,
miláček
,” Vladimir said. He didn’t flinch.

Miláček
meant sweetheart in
Czech. It was his term of endearment for her.

A feeling, unfamiliar and overwhelming, travelled through her. It confused her. Was that how it felt to be touched by love? Lucienne drew a shattered breath. Her hand shook pathetically. She was sweating. The hilt of the knife grew slippery and heavy in her hand.

“We’ll have to use a tranquilizer,” Kian said, his voice pained.

“Absolutely not!” Ashburn countered. “She might not come back this time.”