Queen of Aparia (Obsidian Queen Book 5), page 3
“Please,” he scoffs good-naturedly. “Rafe is your favorite.”
She cackles to herself, motioning for him to follow her out the back for more groceries. “And now he’s all mine. Everyone wins.”
Jonathan shoots me a look over his shoulder as he follows Lillian. I shake my head, mildly disturbed.
Just as they step outside, a knock sounds at the front door. Since there’s no longer a blood-thirsty pixie trying to kidnap me, and Teagan is currently setting up a meeting with the Entitled, I think it’s pretty safe for me to answer it.
Just to make sure, I look through the peephole…
And find Rafe.
My hands grow clammy as I reach for the doorknob, and my stomach ties itself into knots. He and I are doing all right, mostly. I’m still carrying a lot of guilt. It seems wrong that I’m so happy, and Rafe is so…
Well, I don’t actually know what he is. He’s too good at hiding his feelings, and without the link, there’s no way for me to get into his head.
I take a deep breath and open the door. “Hey.”
“Did you make sure it was me before you unlocked it?” he asks sternly, which makes me smile.
He’s still Rafe. We’re still…friends. You know, kinda. Not like before.
It’s complicated.
“I did,” I assure him.
He nods as he glances past me, into the living area. “Is Jonathan here?”
I nod again.
Something flickers over his face—disappointment, maybe? “I didn’t see his car.”
“He’s parked around back.”
Where everyone in the family parks. Where Rafe used to park, too. His car is out front now, as if he knows…well. That it’s complicated.
He turns back to me, doing that thing where he smiles with only his eyes. “Go ahead and ask me.”
“Ask you what?”
The knight chuckles under his breath, leaning a shoulder against the doorframe. “What I’m doing here. You know you want to, but you don’t want to be rude.”
“It’s not like you’re banned from the house, you know.”
He only shrugs, but the smile creeps from his eyes to his lips. “Teagan set up the meeting.”
I shiver, wondering for the zillionth time if I made the wrong choice. But if I’m going to take control of the guild, I’ll need manpower. The members of the Entitled are evil though—that’s what I’ve always been told. And many of them are. But some of them aren’t, like Rafe, Chloe, and Nicole. And when it comes down to it, the Royal Guild isn’t the most moral group either.
We need to be unified, not constantly bickering amongst ourselves. But how I wish I wasn’t the woman for the job. Fleetingly, I think maybe I should have studied politics instead of going to finishing school.
It’s too late now. They’ll have to take me as I am—high heels, skirts, hairless cat, and all.
Rafe cocks his head to the side as he studies me. “Are you nervous?”
“About meeting with thieves, cheats, and liars? No, why?”
He laughs again—a warm, intimate sound, and then his eyes slide behind me. He doesn’t move, but his demeanor changes as he says, “I was just telling Madeline that Teagan set a date for the meeting. We need to be in San Francisco next Friday.”
Jonathan steps up next to me, unfazed to find Rafe and me alone in the entry. “What is Gray going to tell Finn?”
“They’re so wrapped up with the duke’s death; I don’t think it will matter if we disappear for a few days. If Finn questions it, we’ll say we were following a lead about the Obsidian Queen.”
Jonathan nods, satisfied. He turns to me. “That’s not long to prepare. Are you okay?”
“Less time to stress over it.” I press my hand to my rolling stomach. “It might be better this way.”
Jonathan nods sagely, and then he shoots Rafe an amused look. “Lillian is waiting for you in the kitchen.”
“She didn’t know I was coming.”
Jonathan smirks as he not-so-subtly slides his arm around my back. “I’m sure she’ll be fine with the surprise.”
Rafe narrows his eyes as he walks past us and disappears into the other room. Faintly, I hear Lillian exclaim from the kitchen, her German accent a little thicker than usual, “Rafe! What are you doing here? Never mind that, sit—sit. I’ll make you something to eat.”
I turn to Jonathan. “And people say I’m evil.”
His smile turns grim. “I didn’t like the way he was looking at you.”
“Oh yeah?” I tease, bumping his shoulder. “Jealous?”
Jonathan frowns. “Concerned.”
Softening my tone, I say, “You know you don’t have anything to worry about, don’t you? Even when he and I were linked, and it would have been easy, all I wanted was you.”
“No one makes Rafe smile like you do. Not even Nicole.”
Cue the excessive guilt trip.
“I’m worried about him,” Jonathan continues. “He lost you and his magic all in one fell swoop. I can’t even imagine what that must be like.” He drops an absent kiss on my lips. “But you don’t need to be burdened by it.”
But I am burdened—and Jonathan can tell.
Thankfully, his phone chimes with a text, ending the awkward conversation.
“It’s Gray again,” he says after he reads it. “The funeral is planned for Thursday.”
“And Finn’s inauguration?”
“He didn’t say. I’m sure your father will have those details when he gets here tonight.”
“I have to tell my parents what I’m planning,” I say softly, dread chasing away my happiness. “I need to see how deep their allegiance to the Royal Guild runs.”
Jonathan is quiet, as if maybe he doesn’t agree it’s a good idea.
“They raised me, and I think they had good intentions,” I say gently. “I never doubted they loved me. It seems too cruel to move forward with my plan without warning them.”
Jonathan steps in front of me and massages my shoulders. “I understand—I do. But if they turn on you, you’ve lost your element of surprise. Your father is a high-ranking official of the guild. It could be disastrous.”
If they turn on me.
It’s a heartbreaking thought, but I know the fear is founded. I wish I didn’t have to question my parents, but it is what it is.
What am I going to do?
If things go badly, I could end up in the Dungeons, stripped of my magic. At least my parents could claim ignorance if I don’t tell them my plans.
I shudder at the thought of being hauled away by Royal Guild knights and taken to the magical underground prison. I imagine facing a Vulture, like Rafe did, and having my magic torn from me. I lived it once in my Obsidian Knight’s head. The idea of going through it again with my own magic is almost too horrifying to contemplate.
And they’d do the same to my knights, all except Jonathan, who would die when our link was severed.
“Are you all right?” Jonathan moves his hand from my shoulder to my bare arm.
As soon as he connects with me, he recoils. “Morbid thoughts, sweetheart.”
“What if this is a mistake?” I whisper, growing panicked. “Maybe I should open a gate, send the creatures through it, slam it shut, and be done with it.”
“You can do that,” he says carefully.
“But?”
“What about people like Nicole, who want to use their magic freely without having to look over their shoulders constantly?”
“What do you think I should do? In Redstone, you said I must never even think about opening the thresholds.”
“That was before the midnight beasts attacked,” he points out. “And before I realized how many of our people are suffering. My magic isn’t obvious to humans. I use it without detection, so it never occurred to me how difficult it would be if I were in a different faction.”
Slowly, I nod. “In many ways, mine is the same. Even when I use my persuasion on humans, they never realize what I’ve done. All of my magic is meant to be performed in the shadows.” I pause. “But it’s been over a hundred years since the thresholds were locked. We have no idea what’s over there, and we’re supposed to meet the Entitled in just a few weeks. It’s all moving so quickly.”
Jonathan nods, stepping back. He taps his phone screen a few times and then holds it up to his ear.
“Who are you calling?”
“Teagan.”
“Why?”
“We’re going to find another threshold—tonight, if possible. Let’s see what we’re dealing with.”
3
Gray is only one knight marshal, but his absence makes me edgy. Jonathan told him what we’re doing, and though he doesn’t like it, he didn’t tell us no.
Not that it would do him a lot of good to try.
He’s the leader of our group, but now that the men have accepted me as their queen, I guess I’m in charge. Which is terrifying. I don’t like making these kinds of decisions.
We’re in the Glenwood Canyon, off a hiking trail that was closed due to a major mudslide. The threshold is behind a waterfall, but we’re not even sure we’re going to be able to reach it.
It’s the middle of the night—because when else would you go for a walk on a super steep, condemned hiking trail?—and I feel something lurking nearby. Not something big, like a dragon. More like something inconvenient, like a gremlin. I just hope it’s not a gargoyle. I’m not as terrified of them as I used to be, but they’re still winged demon-looking beasts that feed on magic.
No matter how many times Teagan assures me they’re only scavenger animals—and not evil—I can’t help but think they’re the things of nightmares.
“Why are we doing this in the dark again?” Chloe asks, covering a yawn with her hand.
“Technically speaking, we’re not supposed to be here,” Teagan answers. “But it’s the closest threshold to Avon, and I know exactly where this one leads.”
“You didn’t mention that,” I say.
“I’m mentioning it now.”
“What’s on the other side?” I ask nervously.
“It’s impossible to say since it’s been a century since the thresholds were open, but at the time they were destroyed, this one led to Melacharus.”
“And what is Melacharus?” I prod.
The Vulture turns to me, the glow of an elementary candle spell illuminating his face. He meets my eyes with his strange light blue-green ones. “The royal city.”
“The threshold that leads to the royal city is here? Outside Glenwood Springs?”
“It wasn’t terribly useful considering the heart of human civilization was across the world when we first began passing back and forth between realms. Our ancestors traveled to the thresholds in Galentia to cross into Europe, a two-month voyage by ship. But we built the first US Royal Guild in the heart of what is now Glenwood Springs when the humans began to settle the west. It was moved to Avon in the late eighteen hundreds—closer to growing Denver, but not so far the Royal Guild couldn’t access this particular threshold.”
“And…the mudslide?” I ask, feeling particularly uneasy as I look at our dark surroundings. “That was a coincidence, right? Not the work of a guild-hired Heron?”
Surely Finn didn’t cause this mess just to block the threshold’s access, did he? The storm didn’t just destroy the trail—it shut down a major interstate for weeks.
“I don’t know,” Teagan says. “But I wouldn’t be surprised if the guild had a hand in it. They know the Obsidian Queen is alive. They’re in a state of panic.”
I study the dark shadows. “Do you think they have people watching the area?”
“It’s very likely. Let’s not waste any more time.”
By some miracle, we make it to the threshold before dawn. It was an arduous uphill trek—crawling over displaced boulders, crossing cold streams, and traversing a few narrow, steep sections that I didn’t care for at all.
But we made it, and nothing dark and magical came to visit us.
Water crashes from the cliff above, falling like a narrow ribbon into a shallow lake. Eric shines his flashlight on it. Mist rises around us, making the early morning air cold and wet. My clothes already feel damp, and my hair is probably frizzing like crazy.
There’s a recess in the rock behind it. Not a cave, exactly. More like a large divot. I can’t see the threshold yet, so I don’t know if this was a waste of time.
“Is it there?” I ask Jonathan, gratefully accepting a drink from the water bottle he offers.
“Yeah.” After I’m finished, he takes a drink himself, puts the bottle back into his pack, and takes my hand.
The moment he offers his magic, the threshold comes to life. The knotted threads shimmer like dew catching sunlight on spiderwebs, and they call to my magic with their siren song.
It’s a puzzle, a lock—one only I’m able to work.
Without instruction from Teagan this time, I step up to the gate and begin to work my magic. It’s similar to untangling a massive knot of necklaces when they’ve been haphazardly tossed in a jewelry box. I pull the pieces one by one, tugging on them gently to loosen them. It’s a therapeutic activity, like popping bubbles in packing wrap. Mindless and intensely satisfying.
A few hours later, just as the sun’s first rays peek over the eastern mountains, I finish.
I step back, admiring my work and the way the threshold glows, visible now even without Griffon magic. There’s a faint hum as well, proof the powerful passage is restored and active.
“Excellent job, Madeline,” Teagan praises. “It only took you two hours—almost half the time as before.”
I nod absently, my focus still on the gate in front of us.
“I’ll go first.” Teagan adjusts the large crossbow on his back. “We must be on guard. There’s no way to know what we’re walking into.”
Our group falls silent. Again, I wish Gray was here.
I glance at Rafe, nervous about his lack of magic. Sensing me studying him, he looks my way. Silently, he taps the gun at his side, reminding me he’s not unarmed.
The bullets loaded in the weapon are silver. Legends say the metal kills werewolves, but they’re wrong. Werewolves don’t exist. Silver kills different creatures that skulk in the night.
Teagan slips into the threshold. He’s a little more hesitant than the first time. Parker follows, pistol at the ready, with Eric, Chloe, and Nicole behind her. Rafe goes next, and then it’s our turn.
Jonathan and I pass under the waterfall together. The mist is cold against my face even as the magic envelops me. And then, the moisture disappears.
Waning daylight greets us, and we nearly bump into Rafe’s back as we emerge from the threshold.
“—as ambassadors,” Teagan says from in front of us, the first part of his speech cut off by our late arrival. I can’t see him thanks to the rest of the group blocking my view. “Here to see what has become of our former home and to reach out in friendship.”
People mutter around us, and my pulse jumps.
We’re not alone.
I nudge past Rafe, hoping to get a peek at the crowd. My Obsidian Knight catches my arm. I look down, startled by the sudden contact—feeling a strange memory of our previous connection. It lingers like a ghost, surprising me.
As if sensing it as well, Rafe jerks his hand away, his eyes widening marginally. “You’re safer toward the back,” he whispers, veiling his concern. “If things go badly, go through the threshold.”
I want to argue, but he’s not wrong. Reluctantly, I nod.
“That’s impossible,” a man says, sounding angry…or scared. Probably the latter. “This threshold is a relic, destroyed a hundred years ago.”
“It is possible,” a woman argues. “I saw them step out with my own eyes!”
Eric shifts in front of me, giving me my first glimpse of this realm I’m destined to rule. I inhale slowly, taking it in.
People circle us, and the crowd grows larger by the minute. I’m not sure what I pictured—a medieval fantasy village, I suppose. But these people…look like us.
Sort of.
Their clothing is tailored, sleek. The styles are similar to ours, though arguably more polished. Though some women in the crowd wear skintight leggings or fitted pants, most don skirts—tea, knee, and mini in length. Waistlines are darted in both blouses and dresses. The material is fine and soft. Nothing is chunky or gaudy.
Most men are in suits, though some wear dark jeans.
Overall, the fashion is odd because it’s not that odd. I scan the crowd, confused how people completely cut off from us a hundred years ago could have clothing similar to our own.
The loud man at the front wears a white button-up shirt rolled to his elbows, sans tie, with brown leather oxford shoes. A woman near him is in a fine-knit sweater dress with a black belt, sleek leather leggings, and ankle boots that—
Hang on a minute.
I push past my team, gaping at her. “Those are from Hayden Milner’s new autumn line!”
The pretty woman blinks, surprised to be addressed, and then she looks down at her expensive footwear. “They are, yes. I bought them when I was on holiday in New York a week ago—”
“You there!” a man hollers, pushing his way through the crowd, wearing a long, black duster that looks like something out of a movie. “What are you doing up there? That’s a historic landmark. Get down!”
“They came through the gate, constable,” a woman says, looking at us leerily. “We all saw it.”
The jacketed man scowls, obviously not believing her. “A prank, no doubt. Hurry up, or I’ll arrest the lot of you.”
“What’s going on?” I whisper to Teagan.
The Vulture frowns, looking as disconcerted as the rest of us. “I’m not certain.”
But it’s Chloe who steps forward, exasperated. “What can’t you understand? We repaired the threshold, and then we walked through it. It’s not a difficult concept to grasp. Eric, show them.”
“Now, just a minute—”
The crowd gasps as Eric obligingly steps into the threshold. A few moments later, he returns.
“But that one isn’t operational!” the constable stammers. “It was destroyed—”
