To Catch a Queen (23 page)

“Wasn’t Sophie supposed to be talking to them?” Athena asked. She was also standing on her toes, but she was so tiny it did no good.

“I don’t see Sophie,” Emily said, a knot forming in her stomach. The last thing an impostor would want at her coronation would be the real queen. What had happened to Sophie? “She’d have been able to fight off a fake, right?” she asked Eamon.

“She is quite powerful and formidable.” He surprised her by giving her hand a reassuring squeeze. If he felt the need to console her, that was a bad sign,.

After another short fanfare, the crowd turned to face the rear of the great hall. Emily got the sense that someone was moving through the center of the room. The attendees parted to allow the procession to pass. When it drew closer, Emily saw that it was a group of fairies who looked like young women, but who were probably centuries old. They were dressed something like the fairies in storybooks, with wispy dresses that swirled around them, decorating their shapely bodies rather than really concealing them. Their bright hair streamed down their backs, with garlands of flowers woven into it. The fairy in the center of the group held out a pillow of flowers, upon which rested a crown.

“Is that …” Emily started, her voice trailing off in dismay.

“It does look like Sophie’s crown,” Amelia said.

“But is it real or a copy, like the throne?” Emily asked.

“I believe it is real,” Eamon said, squinting at the crown.

“How did they get it?” Emily asked, her pitch rising along with the panic surging through her body. “Sophie sealed it up. We saw that. No one should be able to get to it but Sophie.” Now she
knew
that something must have happened to her sister. Sophie tended to get weird feelings when something bad happened to a family member, but Emily had felt nothing. Why couldn’t that gift work both ways? She should know if her sister was in danger.

Athena stood on her toes again and craned her neck to get a glimpse of the procession as it passed by them. “Is that the impostor queen? The one with the crown?” she asked.

“No,” Eamon replied, his eyes still on the group of fairies. “These must be handmaidens, here to present the crown to the queen. I wonder how that will work.”

“How should it work?” Emily snapped. “They put the crown on her head, then it’s a done deal.”

“I don’t know about that,” Amelia said.

“You saw what your sister went through to win the throne,” Eamon said. “Do you really think it’s so simple as putting on a crown?”

“It could be dangerous for someone who didn’t win it to put that crown on,” Athena said.

“Then why have it here?” Emily asked.

“They must have some plan,” Amelia said.

“Probably a crown switcheroo,” Athena suggested. “They parade the real one through the crowd so everyone can see it up close and know it’s real, then put a fake one on the impostor’s head.”

The handmaidens made it to the foot of the dais and stood there. The trumpets sounded one more time, this fanfare longer, louder, and more elaborate than the previous ones. The crowd drew to attention like the trumpets had just played the opening bars of “The Star-Spangled Banner,” and a set of doors behind the gallery overlooking the dais opened.

A parade of uniformed guards came through the door, taking their places along the gallery. After one last trumpet flourish, a richly robed woman appeared in the doorway.

She was so far away, it was hard to see much about her, other than that she was tall and had reddish hair. The crowd took a moment to respond with tepid applause that gradually built in intensity and volume. It didn’t seem quite as loud as Emily might have expected from such a large group, so she hoped the whisper campaign had done at least some good.

The woman didn’t appear to acknowledge the applause. She merely stood totally still. The air around the gallery shimmered, and a great, red-carpeted staircase appeared, curving down from the side of the gallery to the dais. The guards on that side marched down the staircase, each guard taking a position on a step. The remaining guards formed columns on either side of the queen-to-be, marching alongside her as she made her way across the gallery and swept down the staircase.

Her long cloak streamed behind her on the steps. Emily was impressed that she went down the stairs without lifting the hem of her long skirt, but she made it without mishap. Once on the dais, she walked straight to the throne and sat on it.

Finally, Emily was able to get a good look at her, and she gasped out loud.

Apparently, she wasn’t imagining things, for Amelia also gasped and blurted, “My word! It’s Jennifer Murray!”

The Palace Doors

Meanwhile

Sophie knew she could open the palace doors, but doing that without being noticed was more of a challenge. If she’d had the crown, she’d have flung open the doors and made a grand entrance. Without it, she wasn’t so sure she could pull that off. Sure, she could radiate royalty, but would that convince a crowd when someone wearing a crown was sitting on a throne?

Michael tapped her on the elbow. “What about a servants’ entrance, like you used to sneak into your own palace?”

“You enter your own palace through the servants’ entrance?” Nana asked, aghast. “That’s just not done.”

“I had good reason,” Sophie replied. She worried her lower lip between her teeth as she mulled it over. There was something thematically appropriate about it, the kind of thing that would happen in a fairy tale. On the other hand, Nana could be right. Was that the way for the rightful queen to make an appearance? But if she did it right, no one would know, and they’d never think to look for her entering that way. “I really think that’s our best option right now. Let’s go,” she said.

There was a constant flow of people in and out of a side entrance, and it was easy enough for the three of them to slip in among the others. She gave them the glamour of servants, over Nana’s objections, and they joined the line of fairies carrying laden trays up to the throne room.

Another trumpet fanfare sounded while they made their way into the room. Sophie didn’t have a chance to look up at whatever was happening until she set her tray on a table. She’d never waited tables, so carrying a tray of fancy food wasn’t a skill she’d ever developed, and this was not the time or place for a rookie mishap. When she, Nana, and Michael had all divested themselves of their trays, she adjusted their glamours to fit into the gathered attendees.

Michael suddenly grabbed her arm as some kind of procession moved through the center of the room. She couldn’t quite see what it was, but he had a much better vantage point. “It’s your crown,” he said, bending to speak into her ear.

Nana studied the procession, shaking her head. “That’s the crown? It’s not quite what I pictured.”

“They’re not going to be crazy enough to put it on anyone, are they?” Sophie said, turning to Michael in dismay.

“It would serve her right,” he said, raising an eyebrow.

“Is that Emily over there?” Nana asked.

Sophie followed her gaze across the throne room. “Yes. She’s here with the enchantresses.”

“And a fairy, looks like.” Before Sophie could stop her, she headed across the throne room, straight for Emily.

“Oh, that’s going to be fun,” Sophie grumbled. “There’s no telling what Emily will say about bringing her here.”

“But for the moment, she’s out of your hair,” Michael pointed out.

“I’d rather keep an eye on her.”

Another fanfare rang out, drawing their attention to the head of the room. They watched as soldiers came out onto a gallery, and soon a tall, red-haired woman in royal robes thick with jewels and embroidery came out and stood for a moment. Sophie couldn’t see far enough to get any sense of who the woman might be, but strangely, she didn’t read as fae. A human? She supposed it made sense if any word at all had spread about the fate of the last queen or of the identity of the new queen. Aside from her height, this woman might fit a rough description of Sophie, so her appearance wouldn’t contradict any rumors.

But if the impostor was human, that probably meant she was a puppet, and someone else, likely fae, was pulling the strings. Maeve couldn’t leave the real palace, but it could be one of the other rulers who couldn’t take the throne when it was known that someone else had won it, but they could rule from behind the scenes if they found a patsy who fit the profile.

The impostor came down the curving staircase and took her throne, and that was when Sophie recognized her. She barely had the chance to realize that it was Jen Murray before she had to leap to hold Michael back from rushing to the dais to reach his wife.

“Not now,” she hissed, dragging him further back into the crowd.

“It’s Jen!” he protested.

“I noticed. But what do you plan to do, in this crazy crowd when we don’t know what’s going on?”

His eyes were wild and his breath came in deep gasps, but reason gradually returned to his face, and he nodded. She kept her arm around his waist, just in case. “You’re not going to let them put that crown on her, are you?” he asked, his voice hoarse with anguish.

“I won’t let them hurt her,” she promised.

“She wanted to be a princess. Do you think this was her idea?”

“I think she’s being used.” It was hard to tell from this distance, but Jen’s face was even blanker than it had been when they first discovered her in the Realm. She might not be objecting to the royal treatment, but Sophie doubted she was the one behind the plot. “Let’s see what happens,” she urged, trying to keep her voice as soothing as possible even as her thoughts churned over this latest development. Had Jen been here all along? If so, the image Sophie had seen in her palace of Jen leaving with Fiontan and Niamh’s court must have been faked, probably by whoever had put the various spells on the palace. It had done the trick of distracting her while casting suspicion on the wrong people. But who was the puppet master pulling Jen’s strings?

The fairy rulers had been moved from their cell to the throne room and stood on the dais. Sophie thought a silent apology to Tallulah for losing the crown. If only she still had that, she could easily have stepped up and challenged the impostor. Without it, her claim wasn’t quite as obvious, and making that claim now might put Jen at risk. Tallulah didn’t seem at all dismayed, though. She must have had a plan, but Sophie couldn’t figure out what it might be. It would have been nice if Tallulah had shared it with her.

“Who has come here to acknowledge my rule?” Jen said, her voice ringing through the vast chamber. Sophie recalled that she’d been an actress before being abducted by the fairies, and she still had the vocal projection for it.

The captive rulers glanced at each other, their reluctance obvious. They knew she wasn’t the real queen, but would they play along? Were they being threatened or under a compulsion? It seemed like a very risky move to have them there.

It was Niall, the one who looked like a character in a 1930s movie, who stepped forward first. Dropping to one knee, he bowed his head and pressed his hand against his chest. “My queen, it is my duty and honor to serve you.”

When his consort, Orla, was the next to step forward, Sophie got suspicious. By going first, they’d put all the others in a very difficult position. Either they followed suit, or they called those two out as liars. If Niall and Orla were behind this, that had been neatly played.

The others did all fall in line, taking their turns in front of Queen Jen. Tallulah was last, and Sophie found herself holding her breath. Would she, too, play along, or was she up to something?

Tallulah moved forward to face the throne, but she didn’t kneel. She gazed at Jen for a long time until the throne room grew utterly silent in anticipation. Finally, she said, “I do not bow to a queen who hasn’t been crowned.” She gestured toward the crown being held on a cushion of flowers. “But here the crown is, ready for you. We seem to have done this all backward. Doesn’t the coronation come
before
the oaths of fealty?”

Sophie was even more certain that Niall must be the mastermind when he twitched visibly. Obviously, this hadn’t been part of his plan. And Sophie had a sneaking suspicion that it
had
been Tallulah’s plan. That’s why she wanted the crown present.

But there was one thing Tallulah hadn’t counted on: the impostor’s husband.

Michael wrenched himself away from Sophie and strode forward to stand at the bottom of the dais steps, directly in front of the throne. “This woman is my wife, and I’ve come to claim her,” he declared.

“Oh dear,” Sophie whispered to herself. This was about to get very complicated—and very dangerous.

The Throne Room

Next

Michael hadn’t even thought before acting. All he knew was that he couldn’t let that crown be put on Jen’s head. Beyond that, he had no plan, no idea what to do next.

The woman staring down at him from the silver throne looked like the wife he remembered, but she regarded him like he was a complete stranger. When he’d seen her in the Realm before, she’d been distressed when he said he was her husband. Now, though, she just looked at him with mild amusement.

“You claim me as your wife, do you?” she said. “It’s not so easy to take a queen as your bride. You’ll have to win me.”

Michael went cold as he realized he was facing that challenge Mrs. Smith had warned him about. Unfortunately, he was no better prepared now than he had been then. He’d made one trade of value, and then he’d become sidetracked by everything else that had happened since the market. What would he have to do to win his own wife back? Slay a dragon?

Jen paused for a moment before she leaned forward, smiling slightly. “Do you love me, brave champion?”

Feeling like he was trapped living out a fairy tale, he forced himself to respond in a way that fit the scenario. “With all my heart.” His voice broke slightly on the last word.

She rose from her throne, and the air shimmered around her, dissolving her into a blur. The blur resolved into three Jens, all of them identical. “Which of us is the real one?” they asked in perfect unison.