Chapter 24 #2
“That is for me to worry about,” the queen says. “Right now, you must decide. Will you protect the heir to the Fox Throne?”
Hunter watches the queen for a long moment before he gives her a curt nod. “Of course, but not for you. I swore an oath to protect her.”
“Your motives do not matter to me, as long as you do it.” From beneath her veil, the Dead Queen gives him a long, assessing look. “You know, you haven’t changed much since you were a child, running around the palace with her.” She nods in my direction.
Dread fills my veins. For a moment, I actually allowed myself to believe she wouldn’t tell him.
Hunter takes a step backward. “How would you know that?”
“Hunter—” I start to intervene, but the Dead Queen talks right over me.
“I wonder if you remember me.”
Hunter’s face melts into confusion. “How could I forget? You saved us in Ellyll.”
“No, from before. From the palace in Caerwen.”
I reach toward Hunter, suddenly desperate to steal his attention back from the queen and the horror I know is coming. “Please, let me tell him.”
Hunter shakes my hand from his arm. “No. What are you trying to hide?” His words are sharp and accusatory when he looks at me.
I bite my lip, willing tears not to fall. I will not cry in front of this horrible queen. I will not let her get under my skin.
He turns back to the queen. “I never met you before Ellyll. I’d remember.”
The queen laughs darkly. “We’ll see about that.”
The Dead Queen rises from her throne, her bones popping with each movement. She walks down the dais, graceful as a shadow, and stops before us. I know it’s coming, and my heart breaks for Hunter in this moment of revelation.
The Dead Queen raises her veil, revealing the rotted, destroyed face of a woman we both loved.
Hunter’s face crumbles into horror as recognition takes hold. “No.” He shakes his head, backing into the crate of copper armor. “No, it can’t be.” His eyes dart between her massacred face and the silver moth necklace hanging at her breast.
The Dead Queen stares, her pearlescent eyes revealing no emotion.
Hunter turns to me, disbelieving. “You knew?!”
I shake my head, reaching out for him again. He scrambles away from me like I’m made of hot iron, fresh from the forge.
“I had no idea, Hunter, I swear it. Not until I got here.”
“All those years trying to discover who killed your grandmother, and she wasn’t even dead?”
I look pointedly at the splitting, pale flesh on the queen’s face. “She is dead, Hunter. Like the corpse wolves.”
“But she isn’t dead, is she?”
I huff in frustration. “It’ll take time. You’ll come to understand.”
“No.” Hunter shakes his head firmly. “No. This is one thing I will never fully understand.” He turns to the queen, fury distorting his face. “How is this possible? Why are you here?”
“That isn’t a story I wish to tell.”
He huffs. “Well, I didn’t wish to see someone I loved turned into a monster.”
Bang! The sound cuts through the rising tension like the swing of an executioner’s axe.
We all turn to see the throne room doors swing open. Tristan walks across the flagstones, his steps swift and determined. Despite our fight earlier, relief floods me at the sight of him. Maybe he can fix this before everything goes to hell.
“I asked you to wait for me,” Tristan says.
I’m not sure who he’s speaking to until Nalina steps forward. “I did as I was bidden.”
“And a simple warning was too much to muster?”
Nalina gives him a long look. It’s clear she had no intention of bringing him into this meeting. When he reaches us, Tristan kneels before the Dead Queen.
“My Queen, I apologize for the interruption.”
The Dead Queen waves his apology away. “It’s no matter.” When she speaks, her black, desiccated tongue is visible through the remaining flesh of her fetid jaw.
Tristan rises and turns to me. “Are you alright?”
I nod.
“You!”
We all turn to Hunter.
He’s staring at Tristan like he’s going to erupt. “How dare you show your face in front of me again?”
Tristan holds out his hands defensively. “Red followed me into Annwyn willingly. You can ask her yourself.”
Hunter points a finger at Tristan’s face. “You’re a liar. You tricked her, just like you tricked me into believing you were a decent human being!”
Tristan raises an eyebrow. “‘Decent’ is a relative word, I’ve found.”
In a whirl, Hunter raises his father’s fox sword. “Decency isn’t open for interpretation.”
Tristan doesn’t look concerned about the sword in the slightest. “What are you going to do, Hunter? Kill me?”
“I’d sure like to.” Hunter swings.
Tristan jumps out of the way, looking appalled.
“Hunter!” I shout. “I can explain everything, just give me time!”
Hunter swings again. Tristan spins away and draws his own sword from the scabbard tied to his belt. Shadows twist along the silver blade eagerly. “I really don’t want to do this, Hunter.”
“Well, I do.”
The two men swing at each other. Silver clashes. The sound echoes throughout the throne room as the men completely lose their senses in the fight. So much for Hunter feeling weary after his brush with death.
“Stop!” I shout.
Tristan thrusts his blade toward Hunter, silver and shadows cutting through the air. Hunter spins around, out of reach as he angles his sword to jab it toward the Wolf. Tristan avoids it, then jumps over the crate of armor to get closer to his target.
“That’s enough!” I shout.
Clang! Clang!
Hunter nearly draws blood as he swipes his fox sword toward Tristan’s thigh.
Tristan’s jaw tenses, his face transforming with fury. “Oh, I don’t think so, Golden Boy.” He attacks with a force and speed that frightens me.
“Tristan! Hunter!”
They ignore me.
“For the love of the old gods, stop!”
Someone grabs me from behind, and I stumble back into them. Nalina’s strong arm wraps around my chest, tight as a vice. I recognize the cool touch of an unexpected blade against my neck.
“I will slice her pretty little throat.” Nalina doesn’t yell. She doesn’t have to.
The two men freeze, both swords raised. Two pairs of eyes dart toward me, and I’m shocked to recognize the expressions on both men. Concern. Panic. Worry. I’d expect as much from Hunter, sure. He’s always been protective of me. But Tristan?
Nalina presses the steel tighter into my neck. “Really?” she asks, but her words are directed toward Tristan. “This is how you behave in front of your queen?”
Near the dais, the queen stands still, watching. She doesn’t appear concerned, but then again, I’m not practiced in deciphering the expressions of corpses.
“I beg your forgiveness,” Hunter says first. He walks to the crate of armor and sets his sword inside. “I should have known better than to raise a blade in front of a queen.”
“Yes,” she says evenly. “You should have.”
After a beat, Tristan sheathes his sword and his shadows extinguish in mid-air. He clenches his fists as he says, “Apologies, my queen.”
I stare at the two men. Since when does Tristan lose his composure? And since when has Hunter turned vengeful?
Nalina removes her blade from my neck and releases me roughly. When I give her a reproachful look, she gives me a resentful one in return.
She narrows her eyes at Tristan. “I expected to see the fear in his eyes,” she nods toward Hunter. She walks toward Tristan, then stops mere inches from his face. Her whisper is so filled with spite, it may as well be a shout. “But not in yours.”
She turns and leaves the throne room, slamming the doors behind her.