The Wood Queen Read online

  “Before we continue with Simon’s rather impressive schedule, there is someone I need to officially introduce.” Quentin lifted one hand from the dragon-carved lectern. “Miranda Backhouse, the newly appointed first-level alchemist of the Order of the Crow, would like to say a few words.”

  The petite woman Donna had wondered about earlier rose and joined the Archmaster by the lectern. Quentin sank almost gratefully into his chair, and Donna couldn’t help noticing that the normally cold and distant Simon Gaunt laid a steadying hand on his partner’s shoulder.

  And then Miranda was speaking, filling the space with her gentle voice. Despite how soft-spoken she was, there was an undeniable thread of power running through each word, and Donna let herself imagine what it might be like to have someone like this working within the ranks of the aging Order of the Dragon. There had always been a shortage of women around her. Apart from her aunt and her tutor—the rigid though well-meaning Alma Kensington—Donna had lacked female mentors in her life among the alchemists.

  Then Miranda Backhouse turned to face her, her intelligent blue eyes missing nothing. “It’s nice to meet you properly, Donna, despite the difficult circumstances. I knew your parents, back when they were stationed in England for a short while not long after you were born.”

  Clearly, she was waiting for some kind of a response, but Donna wasn’t sure if she was even supposed to be speaking at this point. But when has protocol ever stopped me before? “I don’t remember ever being in London …”

  “Oh, you were just a baby. I have lovely memories of Patrick and Rachel, though.” Miranda stopped for a moment and smiled, a genuine expression that filled her heart-shaped face with warmth. “It was truly a pleasure spending time with them.”

  “Thank you,” Donna said. “I miss them.” A simple truth, but one that made her feel stronger after sharing it with this stranger. Glancing at Simon and noting his pinched brow, Donna was pleased to have taken the spotlight off him for a moment.

  Miranda nodded and the moment passed. Simon took over once again, and events moved on.

  Donna sighed. What the hell had happened to the recess? She was sure she’d heard something about a scheduled morning break, but it was hard to remember amid all the other tedious pronouncements.

  It was going to be a long day.

  Two

  Clouds filled the late morning sky, stealing the light, and Donna kept her head down, watching her step on the icy path. The cold air was sharp against her cheeks and she blew out a breath, idly watching the white mist slowly drift away. She tried not to think about all the official crap going on inside the house, simply glad to be free for a few precious minutes. The recess had finally been called, and the moment Simon had rung that stupid ceremonial bell, she was out of there.

  She needed to breathe, and out here, on the sprawling grounds of the Frost Estate, was as good a place as any. Miranda Backhouse’s gentle words had prompted memories that Donna believed to be long buried, and she suddenly felt terribly alone.

  A tall tree with winter-stripped branches cutting the sky brought her up short, and she shivered in the chill breeze. The dream-image of her mother seemed to taunt her. Her mother … permanently institutionalized, yet with startling moments of clarity that still gave Donna a cruel sort of hope. Knowing her father was dead was a pain she carried almost daily—though of course it was a pain that had faded over time. But with Mom, it was completely different. She wasn’t exactly gone, and yet … you could hardly call her presence a nurturing influence. Not any more.

  Much as she missed Navin, the person Donna wished she could talk to right now was Xan. On the one hand, it felt good to have someone care for her the way that Xan seemed to—she could hardly deny it now, after all they’d shared in such a short space of time. But on the other … well, if she was honest, she felt nervous whenever she thought about Xan and their intense connection.

  No, it was more than that. The real problem came down to this: Donna didn’t know whether she could let down her guard enough to allow herself to be protected, by Xan or anyone else. She was so used to looking out for herself; a large part of that was because she’d been taught to be independent by the Order. Sometimes she found it difficult to allow herself to truly have faith in another person. Navin had been that person for the last few years, but even then their friendship had lived in the shadow of all the secrets she’d been forced to keep.

  Trees reared up on Donna’s left, one of the little copses that had been relocated from Ironwood Forest a couple of years back after part of the woods had been torn down to make way for a new road. Simon had insisted that some of the trees be brought to the Frost Estate for replanting—trophies of a sort, marking how the wood elves’ last home was slowly being destroyed.

  Shivering, Donna couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching her from the trees. She tried to persuade herself that it must just be her imagination; it wasn’t as though the estate was short of protective wards, after all.

  But when she passed another cluster of Ironwood trees, with their wintering branches like sharp knives looking suspiciously similar to the ones she remembered, Donna came to a dead stop and bit her lip. This was sort of disturbing. It could just be coincidence, but she was almost certain she’d already been this way. Sure, the grounds were huge, but were they big enough for her to get turned around so quickly?

  She walked a slow circle, trying to pinpoint her location and get the main building back in view, but stopped again when the air between two of the largest trees in the copse began to shimmer. With her heart beating hard enough to make her dizzy, Donna took a hasty step back and cursed as her foot hit a fallen branch, tripping her; she ended up on her backside on the hard earth.

  A humanoid shape, small and slightly built, seemed to flow out of the foliage, and Donna gave up any hope of reaching help before the new arrival reached her. There weren’t many things that could move that fast and that … inhumanly.

  Except wood elves.

  She scrambled to her feet, trying not to focus on how much the bones in her arms had begun to throb, and stood frozen in place as the fey creature approached.

  But if it was a wood elf, it had to be wearing a glamour, although it wasn’t the strongest elfskin Donna had ever seen. The form this one had taken could pass for human at a glance, but it was undeniably strange looking. As with all alchemists-in-training, Donna was beginning to learn how to see the sometimes-blurred edges of weaker glamours. She gazed at the creature, suddenly wondering if it could be something other than an elf. Fascination bloomed within her, helping to keep terror at bay.

  The wild-looking teenage girl—because that was what she looked like—seemed to scamper rather than walk, her green hair glowing in the morning mist and shedding eerie light on the rest of her appearance. It was as if the creature had tried to assume the shape of a slender, emo kind of girl, but had only gotten things partly right. The features were all human, but her skin was emerald tinted and her eyes were huge and viridian bright. She was clothed in camouflage pants designed for combat and a tight khaki tank top. She was all skin and bone, with autumn leaves in her green hair.

  Donna swallowed and glared at this imposter. How dare she just walk into the home of alchemists, and how had she even managed it? Was she solitary fey, or did she have something to do with the Wood Queen? And if that was true, how had the wood elves known where to find her? This thought almost wiped the bravado from Donna’s face, but she squashed her fears about Aliette’s revenge and raised her chin defiantly. The ethereal creature stood before her, watching her with a bold sort of curiosity.

  Then the strange girl spoke. “Donna Underwood of the alchemists, I offer you greetings. My queen requests your presence.”

  Her voice was one of the creepiest things Donna had ever heard—and she’d seen and heard a lot of weird stuff. The fey girl sounded like she was speaking from very far away. Her voice whispered and rustled, and every word seemed to be accompanied by the sigh o
f a cold wind.

  Donna raised her eyebrows, unable to keep the cynicism out of her voice. “She requests, does she? Really? I wasn’t aware that Her Majesty made such polite things as requests. Isn’t she above all that?”

  The girl’s face contorted into an expression that Donna interpreted as confusion. “My queen has a message for you.”

  Taking a steadying breath, Donna wondered if she could expect help from anyone inside the mansion. Maybe she should play for time, at least see what Aliette wanted. It wasn’t as if she didn’t have her own strengths.

  “Do you have a name?”

  Again, that near-comical expression of confusion crossed the creature’s face. “A … name?”

  “Yes. Like, you called me Donna Underwood. That’s my name. What’s yours?”

  “Oh. I’m Ivy.” The creature nodded as though confirming something to herself, and dislodged a small pile of leaves from her hair.

  “Ivy. Okay, good.” This was freaking surreal, but Donna could hardly walk away without finding out why this girl had been sent to her. And anyway, the Wood Queen was a cunning being—with the potential for immense cruelty. It might not be so smart to disrespect her messenger and, by extension, the queen herself. At least not until she’d heard what she had to say.

  “So, come on then; what does she want?”

  Ivy’s huge green eyes widened even further. “The Queen of the Wood, she whom you know as Aliette Winterthorn, has a proposition for you. She asks that you meet with her.”

  Donna’s mind was racing. Aliette “Winterthorn”? That part was news to her. She knew of the queen’s chosen first name, of course—the one she gave to humans so they could pronounce it—but she didn’t know that the Wood Queen had a last name. Was it information she gave freely, or had Ivy slipped up somehow?

  In any case, it was interesting. Donna filed the name away for future reference and squared her shoulders.

  “Her Majesty is mistaken if she believes I will ever set foot in the Elflands again,” she replied. “And anyway, I was forbidden to return and told that the Old Path we used to gain access last time would be moved. How does she expect me to visit when I won’t be able to find a way in?”

  Ivy jigged from one foot to the other. She either needed to go to the bathroom really badly, or she was uncomfortable standing in the open wearing such a weak glamour. Was that even a glamour? Maybe this was what she really looked like.

  “No, no, you misunderstand.” The fey girl stopped moving and clutched her hands before her as though imploring Donna for something. “The queen comes to the city—she will be here tomorrow.”

  She was coming here? Whoa. Donna felt her whole body flush with heat as shock threatened to short-circuit her already struggling brain. How could Aliette come here, to the human realm? Didn’t the Wood Queen have to stay with her people in the Elflands, hidden away in the Ironwood?

  Donna didn’t know all that much about the specifics, but her understanding was that Aliette’s power was the only thing keeping the elves alive, stuck as they were between dimensions and stranded on the outskirts of the human world. The entrance to their temporary home could only be found through the dwindling remains of Ironwood Forest, with the Elflands sort of running adjacent to it but not visible to the human eye. The only way to gain access to it was by using one of the Old Paths and crossing the magical barrier between realms.

  Finding an Old Path was, of course, the real trick—which is where Xan had come in, last time.

  Xan … She had to give herself a mental shake; no time to get sidetracked by thoughts of the new guy in her life, and what he might mean to her.

  How could the queen leave her people, then, and enter Ironbridge? Perhaps with the same power that allowed her to send a messenger to the Frost Estate …

  If Ivy noticed or understood Donna’s silence, she gave no sign of it. She just stood there still as a stone, all her fidgeting gone in an instant. Waiting.

  Donna needed to snap out of it, and fast. She had to do something—say something. “Tell Her Majesty that I need to know more about this meeting. How do I know she’s not setting me up?”

  Ivy fixed her with that disturbing gaze. “My queen expected you to be afraid, which is why she offered to meet you on your own territory. She will take human form—something she hasn’t done for almost a century—and is prepared to meet you in a public venue of your choosing.” Ivy’s expression turned sly. “My queen says that she has something you desire, and that you will go to her in the end.”

  Donna scowled, all fear momentarily forgotten as she fought the temptation to say something cutting and just walk away. Why risk getting caught up in Aliette’s games again? But there was something in Ivy’s bright expression that Donna couldn’t quite bring herself to ignore, no matter how crazy she was to listen to the twisted words of her enemy.

  Of course, the queen would dangle a potentially tempting morsel in front of her, but surely it was a trap—this had to be a lame attempt to draw her out.

  But if it wasn’t a trap, what on earth did she have that Aliette could possibly want?

  “Listen, Ivy,” she said, making the only sane decision there was. “I don’t care about what your queen wants from me. We did a deal, and it’s over now. Tell her that this time I won’t hesitate to go to the Order. Whatever she’s really after, it can’t possibly be worth starting a war over.”

  “You might be surprised.” The fey girl nodded before heading back into the mist-covered trees. “She said you would refuse her.”

  Relief made Donna light-headed. “Is that it? You’re leaving—just like that?”

  Ivy stopped and looked over her shoulder. “But she also said that you will not refuse her a second time.”

  Minutes later, Donna found the right path and headed back toward the main part of the estate. She knew that if she uncovered her tattoos right now, the iron markings would be flashing with their own inner light and power. Pins and needles filled her arms and hands, buzzing like angry wasps.

  Something in her chest felt heavy and restricted—as though a metal band was being slowly wrapped around her chest and squeezed. Donna gasped and tried to breathe through the strange sensation. Pain in her arms and hands was hardly a new experience, but this pain was entirely different.

  This new feeling seemed to affect the whole of her.

  Breathing through the pain, Donna forced herself to be calm. At least she knew enough to be sure that whatever this sensation was, it had something to do with the tattoos, with the iron that laced her skin and bones and held her all together in ways she couldn’t even begin to understand. Probably it was something triggered by Ivy’s presence.

  Maker had fixed her before, which meant he could do it again.

  Even though it must be getting close to midday, it seemed to be getting colder. She picked up her pace, knowing that her aunt was going to be angry she’d been gone for so long. They’d probably already sent out a search party.

  Donna remembered a story her father used to tell, about a totally kick-ass princess held prisoner at the top of a tower in a strange country far from home. But this princess didn’t need to be rescued by the handsome prince. No, the princess in Patrick Underwood’s tale was more than able to take care of herself—which was lucky, considering that the prince she’d been expecting never did arrive in time to save her. She tore her prison’s moth-eaten velvet curtains into strips and tied them together to make a rope long enough to climb all the way down, then escaped back to her own land. She had many perilous adventures on the long journey home, but of course she kicked everyone’s ass with her superior martial arts skills.

  When the handsome prince finally rode into town and asked for her hand in marriage, the princess told him to get lost; she was quite happy by herself and, anyway, what use did she have for a husband who was afraid of heights?

  Donna smiled as she remembered her father’s face and the laughter that crinkled his eyes. Sometimes she couldn’t help wishing that the
re was more of Dad in his younger sister. Aunt Paige did her best, but she wasn’t really cut from the same cloth; it was strange to think of them being brought up together.

  As that thought crossed Donna’s mind, she caught sight of her aunt striding toward her, her pale face pinched with barely repressed fury.

  “Where have you been? You were told to take ten minutes—not half an hour!”

  Donna almost rolled her eyes at the blatant exaggeration. “It was hardly that long. I was just—”

  “You were just trying to test everybody’s patience.” It was a cold statement.

  Cheeks flushing, Donna resisted the impulse to clench her fists. Aunt Paige had no idea what she’d been doing out here, and she wondered if now was the time to come clean and tell her about Ivy. Perhaps telling her the truth would do something to start repairing the broken trust between them.

  But seeing the open hostility in her aunt’s eyes shocked her, and made her resolve fade before it could even get started. “Aunt Paige, I really was just getting some air.”

  Pursing her lips, her aunt glanced back at the house. “I thought you might have done something silly.”

  Donna raised her eyebrows and tried to look innocent. “Like what? You thought I was going to try and make a break for it—really?”

  “These days, Donna, I really don’t know what to think when it comes to your behavior.”

  Donna tried to get a grip on the sudden flash of anger that hit her, intentionally ignoring how tired her aunt sounded. “You talk like I’m just a kid.”

  “You’re not eighteen yet, Donna. Not for quite some time. Until then, you’re my responsibility.”

  “So when I reach eighteen, I can leave home?” Donna made it a challenge, knowing full well what her aunt’s response would be but unable to resist baiting her.

  “Leaving home doesn’t equal leaving the Order, and you know it. Your life belongs to us—to the alchemists—wherever you might one day move.” Aunt Paige’s expression softened. “You know how important you are to us, how important you are to Quentin.”