Page 10 of Queen of the Wildwood
My spell evaporated, leaving me furious at how effortlessly he rendered my magic useless. “Who are you?” I hissed. “A gatekeeper?”
"Forgive me," the man gave me a mock bow. A lock of his jet-black hair fell across his forehead. Scowling, he brushed it back. “I am Raven. Since Aelbrin left us, it is up to me to escort you to the queen.”
I huffed. “Lead on then and stop boring me with your words.”
The perfect sneer on Raven's face went tight. A hostile light came to his dangerous eyes. “When the queen is done with you, perhaps you'll think better of my hospitality. You have come to be disappointed.”
I wished my magic could bring hail down on his head. My fingers twisted, but the spark of magic had vanished.
Raven gave me a cruel smile. “If the Dark Queen allowed everyone to perform magic, well, this would not be her domain. I have bound your magic until she says otherwise.”
Raven turned, pivoting to give his coat of feathers the best view in the light. Despite Raven’s warning, I tried my magic again. I imagined a pillar of rocks, piled one on top of the other, but when I moved my fingers, nothing happened. If Raven was the beginning of the nastiness waiting for me, what hope did I have to save the village?
I crept behind Raven. The iron balusters rose like teeth, wicked and sharp, ready to pry the magic out of my body. Surely that wasn't possible. I’d heard of Sisters of the Light who lost their magic by performing some dark deed or making an intentional choice to join the Shadow Sisters. A ritual could bind their magic, just as the Sisters of the Light bound the darkness of the forest. I hoped the Dark Queen would be merciful, but as we entered the castle, I doubted it.
A sour stench hung in the air. The slow trickle of water penetrated the silence. Ivy, black as night, hung down from unlit chandeliers, and a thick dust covered the floor. Raven led me up a curving staircase where light dared to enter the gloom of the castle. Gray mist twisted into various shapes, showing first monsters with curved teeth and wicked snouts, and then sensuous creatures that romped around them, unafraid of the monsters and the great evil of which they were capable.
Dread filled my heart, and when at last we came to a door with spikes around it, I wished I’d taken up Aelbrin on his word and fled when I had the chance.
Only there was no turning back now.
The black iron doors swung open with a resoundingboom, revealing a mist-filled throne room. Raven strode across the threshold, shoulders thrown back and head held high, the gray fog curling around him in greeting. His coat of ebony feathers danced with every swaying step. When he reached the center of the room, he dropped to one knee and bowed his head, touching his fist to his forehead. He remained in position, waiting.
I froze just inside the doorway, staring into the eerie lair of the Dark Queen.
Chapter 7
Bowls of incense smoked on either side of the room, the coals turned by women with collars around their necks and irons on their hands and feet. Long hair hung wild around them, and their bodies were smeared with ash and soot. The red irises of their eyes stared vacantly across the room.
Tearing my eyes away, I looked up at the throne. Although roughly twenty paces away, it towered above me, casting a shadow of evil over the doors. It spanned the curved wall of the room and looked like an ash tree with roots—thick and twisted—growing through the stone.
A tree. Mother Tree?
Someone had taken flame to it. Leafless branches reached out of the scorched remains in every direction, as though seeking the light. White mold stood out on its decaying branches, and yet I sensed life. The tree struggled under the oppression of the wicked castle, begging to be set free and grow in health away from the dark and rot. The pain of the tree seeped into me, so real and full of sorrow that my eyes smarted from the strong sense of misery.
At last I understood the burden Aelbrin carried. If this tree knew torture just from existing in the Dark Queen’s presence, what fate lay in store for his people who were cut down to stumps or burned to dust? I could imagine the spirit of the forest carried within the hearts of every one of his people, twisting in agony even as it continued to fight for life.
Perched in the center of the tree, in a seat forced out of twisted tree branches, sat the Dark Queen. She lifted a hand, and curved nails hung off her fingers like the fangs of a snake. “Rise.”
Raven returned to his feet and marched back toward me. His eyes narrowed, and a wolfish grin came to his dry lips.
“Our guest has arrived.” The queen pointed a razor-sharp finger at me.
Fear threatened to overrule my spirit. I struggled against it, biting my tongue fiercely. Clasping my hands behind my back, I dug my fingernails into my wrist. I would not fail.
I studied the milk-white face of the queen. Dark circles covered her eyes, the tell-tale sign of rot, and her raven black hair hung in waves down her back. She wore a corset that pushed her breasts high, the heavy swells moving up and down with every breath. Her lengthy gown was a combination of black-night and blood-red, and offered a glimpse of bare thigh. When she licked her scarlet lips, her tongue came out, forked like a viper.
Ah. Everything made sense. The rune I’d accidentally drawn at the gathering, the mark on Aelbrin’s skin, and the snake that bit me in the forest were all reminders of the Dark Queen’s power and constant presence. Had she been watching all the while?
A warning hummed through me. Was my meeting with the Dark Queen a coincidence? Or a trap?
“My queen,” Raven placed his hand on the small of my back, and I tensed, fingers trembling, desperately longing for my magic. “Aelbrin brought this sweet for you and fled.” He licked his lips. “He will have some explaining to do when he returns.”
The queen pursed her lips and waved her hand at Raven. “He did not go far. Find him and bring him to me.”
Raven left with a victorious smile on his grim face.
Thetap-tapof the queen's fingernails on hollow wood drew my attention. I knew I should hold her gaze, show her I was bold, determined, and unafraid. But the white pallor of her face was so hideous I focused on the tree roots, until they began shrieking in agony, that is. It was as though they knew I alone could hear their mourning plea for help. It was an awful sound, the cries of a dying spirit.
