Victory hung in the air, barely an arm’s length away, and time slowed down for Maeve. She drove the sword toward Drakai’s stomach, but the queen brought up a skeletal wing to protect herself. Her hand in the air transformed into a claw and she butted Drago away. He fell. Hard. Wings fluttering as they snagged in the woods.
Maeve saw the claw hurling toward her, and she ducked, but not fast enough. The powerful arm of a dragon, hard and scaled, slammed into her head. Her vision was replaced with a white haze, then a searing pain rocked her skull. She stumbled, hand still on the sword, but she could not see as she fell forward. Something heavy landed on her back as she struggled for consciousness. The forest spun when she opened her eyes and at first she thought she was back in the Hall of Judgement. She needed a moment, just a few seconds to recover herself. Already the surge of power within her was bursting forth to provide her with enough energy to stand again.
A hand twisted through her hair and yanked her head up. “Maeve of Carn,” came the whispered voice of the Dragon Queen. “I could kill you right now, tell me why I shouldn’t?”
Maeve thrust back with her elbow as hard as she could to give herself more leverage with the sword. A satisfying grunt came from the Dragon Queen and she let go. Maeve blinked as the edges of darkness crept away from her vision. She could just make out the blurry figure of the Dragon Queen and raised the sword, cursing herself for not having any daggers to throw. The scent of birch and burning wood rolled through the forest and Maeve forced herself to her feet, although her vision swam. She gritted her teeth. She was a warrior. She could handle whatever the Dragon Queen threw at her. Lurching forward, she swung the sword, but it seemed to arch so slowly.
“You’ve been warned,” Drakai shouted.
She moved, and before Maeve’s vision could follow, a block of wood came hurling out of the darkness. Maeve dodged it and stumbled. Reaching for the trunk of the tree to hold herself up, she paused for a moment, letting her senses return. When she stood upright again, Drakai was gone. Maeve turned around, but the woods were quiet, as though no one had ever been there.
Heart in her throat, Maeve stumbled to the place where the underbrush was thrashed, where Drago had gone down. But he wasn’t there either. Cursing, Maeve spun in the wood, frustrated. But she was alone.
15
Shrouded Kingdom
“Maeve?”
She pivoted toward Imer’s voice and held up a finger, still watching her surroundings. Her head was clearing, and she squinted, trying to see where they had gone. A gaping hole in the trees where Drago had come through let in more light, but the shadows still blended and moved, hiding from each other.
“What happened?” Imer whispered as he joined her.
Maeve quickly filled him in. “And you?”
Imer shook his head, his face set in a grim line. “Nothing but surface wounds.”
Maeve cursed. “They knew we were coming.”
Imer gave a frustrated nod.
“How close do Nimya and Fin think we are?”
Imer rubbed his forehead with the back of his hand, leaving streaks of soot across his forehead. “Very close. But we could wander in a circle and it could be under our very nose. I smell the magic in the air.”
Maeve sniffed. Was that what she’d been smelling? “We can’t stop now, especially since they know we are close. Tell everyone to be on guard. We have to go forward.”
It was what she recalled from her past missions. Focus on the prize and then deal with what happened when it was over. Something flashed across Imer’s face, but instead of waiting for his reaction she pressed on, watching the wood. Soft mist glimmered in the low light and she thought she detected the flicker of wings. Keeping as silent as she could, she crept toward it. While she did not have much experience with magic, something told her if she could find the glamour that hid the kingdom of the fae, like a blanket, she would succeed.
And then she saw it, the edges unfurling. She glanced back for Imer and saw the rest of the company. They crept out of the trees, staying low, their eyes wide as they watched for more assassins.
Maeve waved to get his attention and then pointed at the ground. It was so tiny, just a flicker, but she hoped she was right. Using the edge of her blade, she nudged it. Mist covered her face, cold and clammy, and an odd sensation went through her, almost as though she were flying through a portal again. Her stomach flip-flopped, but she took another step and another until the mist cleared and she walked out into a grassy meadow with a kingdom set on a gently sloping hill.
Maeve’s jaw dropped and a surge of anger went through her as she stared. Green grass rose around her feet as though it were spring, or summer. The scent of herbs hung in the air, tantalizing and fresh. Sunlight shone through the gray clouds, warming her cold skin. A castle rose in front of her, gray and wicked, with towers shooting toward the perfect sky. But the aura of it was ominous, a thousand memories trapped within it.
She could almost hear hushed whispers in the grass and see the vague mirror of mist that surrounded the castle. Memories of screams, blood, and terror, rose and faded. She guessed the crown was within and the runes on her arms itched as though they were drawn to power.
Behind her, she heard the audible gasp as her companions stepped across the threshold into the kingdom of the fae. She looked up. But no dragons barred the way, and a wide path led up to the castle.
“Keep an eye out,” she whispered to the others as someone passed her the shield she’d dropped earlier. She took it, grateful for a cover, and led the way into the shrouded kingdom.
Maeve stilled her heart as she crept through the blades of grass, some still bowed over with dew. Her eyes scanned the perfect horizon, but there was no sign of flying beasts. What had happened to Drago and the Dragon Queen?
A shadow moved in one of the towers.
“Shields,” Maeve called back to her companions, purposefully keeping her voice low.
They retaliated, lifting their square shields, ready for arrows to fly out of the castle. But none came. A nagging sensation rode up Maeve’s spine. Something was wrong here, wasn’t it? She glanced back at her companions, but Imer shrugged and motioned for her to keep going. She bit her bottom lip as she walked. This silent behavior was unlike the fae. They enjoyed laughing and preening, fighting, and showing off, taking enemies and torturing them in front of others. If they saw a small group stride into their realm, vengeance would come quickly. Wouldn’t it? Arrows should fly, fae should flicker in and out of the shadow world, and dragon fire should consume them. But it wasn’t.
Dread filled Maeve’s heart, and she stopped. “We have to go back,” she said, out loud, facing her companions.
Ingram’s brow furrowed and Imer opened his mouth to protest, when a horn sounded. Maeve pivoted toward the sound and lifted both sword and shield to ward off what was to come. The sound of drums resounded across the forest, a deep and mellow boom, followed by the sound of marching.
“It’s a trap!” she screamed.
“Circle up,” Ingram ordered.
“Move toward the castle, if the doors open we can take cover inside,” Imer called.
Maeve gaze shot skyward as she cursed herself for not realizing the game was more treacherous than striding into the dark fae’s kingdom and stealing a crown. It would be the first place they’d expect her to look. But if the dark fae weren’t home, where were they? Bile filled her throat and her thoughts were torn in two. Would the fae seek to destroy the kingdom of men or the city of mages?