The Queen's Choice

  “Zabriel’s left Sheness, and I believe he’s here in Tairmor. I need you to keep your ears open for word of him. I’ve also heard that the pirate Pyrite has been arrested. You’ll be doing me a favor if you listen for information on him, too. And a young human woman named Gwyneth may send you a note or two to hold for me. It’s extremely important that these notes aren’t seen or read by anyone but me. I’ll check in with you every couple of days to see what information you have.”

  “But, Anya, I can house you here.”

  “I’d like that—I really would. But I was caught with forged papers, and an arrest warrant may have been issued. I’m afraid this is one of the first places the Constabularies would look if they wanted to track me down.”

  Fi’s eyebrows twitched. False documentation laws were rarely enforced against Fae; it was thus fairly transparent that there were facts I didn’t want to share.

  “Whatever you think is best,” she nonetheless responded. “How about at least seeing you off with a hot meal?”

  Though my mouth watered at the thought, I declined, nervous that I might have already stayed too long. What if Luka had his men watching the house? In the best case, I was an accomplice of William Wolfram Pyrite, but if Zabriel’s identity had been compromised, the Ivanova family’s interest in me might have increased tenfold.

  After a quick goodbye, I left the Fae-mily Home behind. Fi stood in the doorway and watched me go, worry lining her face. She’d probably worn the same expression when Evangeline had walked out of the shelter to live on the street and nurture her addiction to the Green. While I didn’t expect to be on the streets for long, I knew all too well the dangers that lurked in this part of the city, and I quickly searched out an alcove in an alley where I could catch some sleep.

  I continued my wanderings the next day, wary of the squalid neighborhood in which I regretfully had to remain for easy access to the Home and Fi’s resources. Memories of Evangeline and the brothers who had attempted to rob me kept me slightly on edge, feeding a slowly building sense of apprehension.

  To blend in with the other street people, I warmed myself at trash-heap fires and accepted proffered smokes that the homeless called cigarettes, all to avoid the notice of the Constabularies who occasionally sauntered by. Every hour or so, I made the rounds of lampposts and storefronts where news and posters were displayed, but there was nothing about Zabriel.

  As my third night alone approached, it began to rain, and I groaned at the handful of coins I had left, having shared half my funds with Illumina. Another human shelter was probably my best option, so I cut through an alley and headed in the general direction of one of the places I’d stumbled upon in my search for Evangeline. Instead of facing a shelter, however, I found myself staring at the raucous pub with the smoke-filled basement that I had searched with Tom Matlock.

  “Anya?”

  The male voice came from behind me, its questioning tenor telling me I was not yet positively identified. Without looking around, I hastened across the street and into the pub, hoping the gentleman would not follow, or that if he did, I could lose him among the patrons. There was no doubt who had called my name, since I knew few men in the city, and only one who could be so compelling with just a single word.

  When I’d pushed well into the seedy, unpleasant crowd, mugs clacking around my head and drinks spilling everywhere, I finally dared to look back. Near the bar, Constable Matlock was scanning the throng. I ducked, yanking my hood so far forward it almost covered my face, and held my breath, willing him to go away. I counted the passing seconds, my worry abating as their number increased. Perhaps Nature was on my side after all.

  At the touch of a hand on my shoulder, I almost bolted. Any attention earned in a place like this was poor luck. But it was Tom’s gray eyes I met when I turned around—I should have known he wouldn’t be easy to shake. He wasn’t in uniform, which meant he was off duty and not required to report anywhere else. At this realization, panic, embarrassment, and giddiness fought for dominance on the battlefield of my emotions. In the midst of their war, they left me with no recourse other than to offer a nervous smile, uncertain as I was whether he would arrest me or buy me a drink.

  “I wasn’t sure it was you, Anya,” he confessed, his voice upbeat. “Why did you run? And what are you doing back in Tairmor?”

  I blushed, though the deepening color of my cheeks would hardly have been visible in the hazy light that contributed to the establishment’s bawdy atmosphere.

  “Interrogating me already?” I joked, searching his face for a sign of his intentions.

  Tom chuckled. “I confess I’m surprised to see you. Surprised but happy, that is.” He glanced around, dark brows raised at our surroundings. “Would you like to go someplace more, uh...pleasant to talk?”

  “You don’t like this pub?” The giddiness had won out—he wasn’t going to hurt me or turn me in. Why had I doubted him? He was the one who’d freed Shea and me from Tairmor in the first place.

  “Actually, I don’t think the folks here like me. It’s a strange feeling I get.” He smirked. “I’m fairly recognizable, whether I’m wearing my uniform or not.”

  “Then show me a place where you are liked—as long as it’s out of the rain.”

  He grinned and took my hand, leading me through the mass of swarthy patrons and back onto the street. Though it felt like I was being unfaithful to Davic, the warmth of his touch was welcome, and I buried my other hand as deeply as I could in my clothing in an attempt to ward off the clinging chill.

  “We’ll have to walk a bit,” Tom told me, twining our fingers together and sending a tingle up my arm. “Leave this neighborhood behind.”

  “Okay by me.”

  We strolled in silence for a few blocks, and my senses automatically evaluated the hand I was holding. It was bigger than mine, just big enough to fit like armor. His skin was tough, reflective of his work as a Constabulary, yet soft and near flawless. The grip was strong, but the way his thumb brushed mine was coyly sensitive.

  “So what are you doing in Tairmor?” Tom asked, reiterating his earlier question.

  I shrugged. “I visited Sheness and liked Tairmor better. I missed the sound of the river rushing through the gorge.” It wasn’t a lie.

  “Did you find your cousin?”

  “Yes, and she’s on her way back to the Faerie Realm. For obvious reasons, I couldn’t go with her.”

  His fingers tightened against mine. “I know the Territory isn’t what you’re used to, but life here can be pretty good.”

  “I’m sure it can be. It’s just a big adjustment. One I didn’t expect to have to make.”

  He ruminated on my words, but I appreciated that he didn’t express his condolences. He was practical in the same way I was. Condolences weren’t helpful, not at this point.

  “And...why did you run away from me when I hailed you earlier?”

  I took a deep breath. There was no avoiding the truth when it came to such a straightforward question.

  “I thought you might arrest me.”

  “Arrest you? I more or less had my chance at that, didn’t I?”

  It was raining harder, and he tugged me across the street and beneath the overhang of a nice-looking inn. His hair was damp and his cheeks had the faintly bluish tint of cold, but he put me between the wall and his body to block the wind. I could feel his warmth the same as any hearth fire. He gazed into my eyes, all dark lashes and sincerity.

  “Look, Anya, I’ve thought about what you said last time we were together, and I’ve come to realize that enforcing the law can be unjust, that it can be the wrong thing to do.” He kicked at the ground with the toe of his boot, then went on, “I’ve never really questioned authority—it’s not exactly encouraged in the ranks, believe it or not—but it occurs to me that following orders without a context for them can be dan
gerous, every bit as dangerous as disobeying them without a good reason. And then, of course, there’s what you said about Luka Ivanova, that he knew your papers were forged when you first met but wasn’t concerned about it.”

  He reached out to play with a strand of my wet hair, then brushed the backs of his fingers along my jaw. Again, I felt both uncomfortable and enticed. It was probably the way his gray eyes reminded me of Davic.

  “I figure if overlooking an infraction is all right with the Lieutenant Governor, it’s all right with me. I mean, who am I to question one of the great Ivanovas? Besides, I’m partial to redheads. On that basis alone, I could never arrest you.”

  I grinned in relief, then impulsively threw myself into his arms. He didn’t hesitate to return my embrace, nor did he seem inclined to be the one to end it. Eventually, I stepped away, abashed at my brazen behavior. Wasn’t I a member of a royal family? Didn’t we have manners and dignity and principles to think about? But all of that felt irrelevant for the time being. Ubiqua probably would have hugged him, too, if she’d found out she wasn’t going to jail.

  “You’re a very interesting gentleman, Constable Matlock,” I announced, clasping my hands behind my back as though in penance for my indecorous act. “But you would tell me, wouldn’t you, if my face was on a wanted poster?”

  “Please. You’ll have to best yourself a few times before you merit a poster and a bounty.”

  “I think you’ve insulted me.”

  “If it makes you feel better, I consider you notorious.”

  I smacked him lightly upside the head, and his brown hair, impressionable with dampness, stuck up agreeably. He reached around me to open the lodging house door, and we went into the dining room to claim a table. I took in the rich woodwork and sparkling chandeliers, feeling like I owed the other patrons an apology for my plain attire and wildly tangled hair. Compared to Tom in his crisp white shirt and coal-gray vest, I looked like the vagrant I had become. He didn’t seem to notice, but when a smartly uniformed server handed us menus, I realized this was the first decent inn I had visited in Tairmor.

  “Order whatever you want,” Tom told me. “I just got paid.”

  Hungrier than I realized, I ordered plenty of food, then consumed it all, Tom watching me in bemusement as he more decorously ate. Wiping up the last of the gravy on my plate with a bit of bread, I pushed back my chair and slowly chewed the final bite, for once fully sated.

  “Yet another skill you have,” Tom remarked. “You’re a champion eater.”

  I dabbed my lips with a napkin. “I couldn’t very well waste your money, now could I?”

  “Certainly not.” He smirked, then settled his forearms on the table, manner more serious. “But I wouldn’t have you waste my time, either, Anya. So why don’t you tell me what you’re really doing back in Tairmor?”

  My silence was enough to confirm that his question was warranted, but I responded with indignation, anyway.

  “Are you calling me a liar?” I asked, dropping the napkin next to my plate, steadying my breathing and my gaze. Maybe I could intimidate him out of pursuing answers. If he’d been pretending this whole time to be happy to see me, then he was a very good actor, but now seemed like a stupid time to abandon the ruse. I was aware of how defensive my manner had become, and so was he, cocking his eyebrow in answer to my aggressive stare as he trailed his finger around the rim of his wineglass.

  “Are you a liar, Anya?”

  I examined him carefully, at long last deciding I didn’t like how guarded and cynical I’d become on this journey, and that his aspect of innocence was probably not feigned. Forcing my body to relax, I leaned into the table to engage him.

  “When I was in Sheness, I kept hearing about this pirate, name of Pyrite. I actually saw his wanted poster in Luka Ivanova’s office when I was here before, and it listed a reward of thirty thousand gold pieces. That was money Shea and I could have used, and we kept our eyes open for him while we were in the port city. Anyway, we heard he had been arrested, so I returned to Tairmor out of curiosity, hoping to find out what’s going to happen to him.”

  “And Shea? Where is she?”

  “I’m not sure at the moment. She’s around.”

  I wondered if he knew Fae couldn’t lie, although we could evade, and if he was falling for any of this. Though he maintained eye contact for a few more moments, expression discerning but gentle, he dropped the matter. He clearly didn’t want me to view him as an enemy.

  He stood and offered me his hand. “I have an early day tomorrow, so I should be on my way. If you’ll come with me to the lobby, I’ll rent you a room for the night.”

  “You don’t need to do that.”

  “You’re right. But I’m going to procure a room anyway, and if you don’t make use of it, my hard-earned funds will have gone to no good use. Remember, you’ve already told me you don’t want to waste my money.”

  I laughed, allowing myself repose. I was happy to pretend that the awkward portion of our exchange hadn’t happened, especially in light of his kindness. He picked up my satchel and led me to the front desk, where he handed over some coins in exchange for a room key.

  “I’ll walk you upstairs,” he said, indicating the way with a sweep of his hand. “This place is enormous. If I hadn’t all but grown up terrorizing this neighborhood, I’d think this building was a maze.”

  He accompanied me to the second floor, then down a carpeted hallway to my door. As he unlocked it, setting down my satchel, I laid a hand on his arm.

  “Thank you, for everything. I overreacted downstairs. You’ve been very kind, and generous, and forgiving, and helpful, and...”

  His soft, strong hands caressed my face, and I lost track of what I was saying. I could see the moment he made the decision; something came together in his expression with the surety and rightness of opposite polarities, and he kissed me full on the lips, his mouth gentle and just distant enough to leave me aching. I tucked my body against his, seeking the comfort and security of his arms, and when he obliged, I entwined my hands in his hair and pulled him tighter, earning a nearly inaudible moan that I felt in his chest. I didn’t want him to leave; I didn’t want to be alone. What I wanted was passion, to feel fully alive, my senses engaged, my heart overflowing. I wanted to experience the sensations of which I’d been deprived since the loss of my wings.

  And then my mind reengaged. What was I doing? I was betrothed, and Davic was somewhere missing me, right now, ever trusting and faithful. I put my palms on Tom’s chest and backed away.

  “I’m sorry,” I mumbled. “I can’t do this.”

  “Can’t do what?” His voice was lazy with bliss. “It’s only a kiss, Anya. I’m not expecting to be invited inside.”

  I nodded, wishing that changed things. I met his silvery eyes, and the yearning I saw in them told me he would have said yes had I posed the question. My knees weakened, and had he not taken a step down the corridor, I would have fallen into his arms all over again.

  I cleared my throat, gripping the door frame. “Good night then, Tom.”

  He smiled tenderly at me, then subtly licked his upper lip. Judging from his eyeline, he was imagining it was mine.

  “Good night, Anya,” he said, ever the gentleman. “I’ll stop by midmorning tomorrow to check on you. If you don’t mind, that is.”

  “Not at all. I’ll even try to be awake.”

  He was grinning stupidly now and he knew it, opting to depart before he said anything to go along with his expression. I stood in the hall for another minute, my thoughts and feelings in disarray, especially about Davic. But no part of me was upset with Tom.

  With nothing else to be done, I hoisted my pack and carried it into the room, which was clean and spacious, with a bed, a dressing table and mirror, and a separate washroom. Feeling I’d been delivered into paradise, I empti
ed my travel pack on the floor, found the clothing that looked cleanest, and took a much-needed sponge bath. When I reentered the bedroom to dress, I noticed that the contents strewn on the carpet were not what I had brought. Illumina and I carried identical leather satchels, courtesy of Queen Ubiqua’s generosity, and my cousin must have grabbed mine by mistake the evening she’d left. As this was the first time since arriving in Tairmor that I’d had a safe place to shelter, I hadn’t discovered the discrepancy until now. I shrugged and dressed, for it didn’t make much difference; we carried the same basic supplies.

  I set about replacing Illumina’s things in her pack, breaking into a grin when I discovered she carried a hefty money pouch. I wouldn’t be sleeping on the streets after all, though my cousin might find her journey less luxurious. Spying a small, leather-bound volume, I opened it to discover it was her journal and sketchbook. I hesitated. I didn’t have the right to read her innermost thoughts. Then again, the book might contain the answers to how she had gotten travel papers and what route she had taken to Sheness. What was the harm, really? Curiosity winning out against judgment, I started flipping pages.

  The typical contents of a diary were interrupted by a pair of pages devoted to a simple, beautiful sketch, much like the ones Illumina drew in her alcove in Chrior or gave to our aunt and me as gifts. This sketch was of a girl lying on the ground in the woods, a dark fog rising around her. In the background loomed a heavy thicket interrupted by a single pathway. I stared, trying to make sense of the drawing, and my hands trembled. The scenery was too familiar, even the tree under which the girl was lying. And there was a dark stain in the snow surrounding her body.

  The tree was the one against which I’d been pinned by a Faerie-hunter’s arrow. And the path was the Bloody Road. And the girl had to be me.

  Illumina had drawn me in the aftermath of my attack. But how? I couldn’t remember telling her the details of my injury. I had, however, told Shea. Perhaps Illumina had asked my former friend about the loss of my wings, sensing I might not want to talk about it, and had conjured this horrifically accurate depiction with the aid of her imagination.