The Wood Queen Read online

  If anything could be done. No, Donna thought, clamping down on the cold hopelessness that threatened to overwhelm her. She refused to believe that her mother was beyond hope.

  Xan pulled a chair up to the edge of the bed and took her mother’s hand gently in his. A strange emotion filled Donna, something she couldn’t quite put a name to. Seeing them there, together … it was almost as though her past and her future had come together in a surprising moment of harmony. Her throat tightened as she watched him close his eyes and do whatever the hell it was he was doing.

  He began to glow.

  Donna stifled a gasp as she saw that the radiance wasn’t so much coming from Xan’s skin as it was from within. It wasn’t a surface sort of glow—it was more like a pulse of energy, like someone had switched on a light inside him. Where Xan and her mother’s hands met, that strange inner light spread from his golden skin to her waxen flesh, lending her the warmth and vitality she so badly needed.

  Taking a step nearer, unable to stop herself, Donna gazed with fascination at the emerald brightness spilling from beneath Xan’s eyelids like otherworldly tears. She wondered what his eyes would look like if he opened them and met her shocked gaze, and whether he would be able to see right inside her—right down to the bone.

  But when Xan finally opened his eyes, they were just green again. Regular green eyes—although “regular” in his case meant a striking viridian brightness that didn’t belong on the human color palette. Still, the ethereal glow had gone, and his golden skin was merely tan once more; he no longer looked as if he were lit up from inside like the beautiful Christmas trees already filling the local mall.

  The expression on his face was difficult to read, but whatever he was feeling, it certainly wasn’t positive. “Donna,” he said, releasing her mother’s hand and reaching out to her instead. “Come here.”

  Foreboding made her stomach cramp, and all thoughts of Xan’s magical ability that shouldn’t even exist were forgotten. She wrapped her gloved fingers around Xan’s and swallowed her fear. “Tell me.”

  “She’s under an elf curse. I’m sorry. There’s nothing I can do for her.”

  Her heart pounding, Donna tried to let go of him, but Xan’s fingers curved around hers and kept her where she was.

  “Let me go,” she whispered, wanting to go to her mom. Fear spun its threads through her mind, glistening like a black spider’s web. It was one thing to suspect that Rachel was under some kind of otherworldly attack, but to have it confirmed like this … and given a name. That made it seem too real. Elf curse. She shivered.

  “There’s nothing we can do,” he repeated. His voice was soft, yet the finality in his tone rang like the slamming of a solid door.

  “I don’t believe that,” Donna replied. She twisted her hand from his grip with ease, using her strength and refusing to feel guilty when surprise flashed across his face. “I’ll never believe there’s nothing I can do for her.”

  Watching her mother’s still form, Donna ran through possibilities—she needed a plan, that’s all. An elf curse … okay, that was obviously bad, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t a way around it.

  Or a way to break it. Curses could be broken, right?

  Xan put his arm around her shoulders, drawing her against the warmth of his body. His thumb moved against her upper arm, an absent-minded caress that felt both natural and comforting. Donna leaned her head against his chest and listened to the steady beating of his heart. She took a deep breath and pulled away.

  “So, what exactly is an elf curse? I always thought that’s what was wrong with her. I mean, I didn’t know for sure and I didn’t know what to call it, but it was clearly something fey-related.”

  Xan gave her shoulder a squeeze. “Assuming that we won’t talk too much about how I can divine fey curses …” He let his voice trail off and offered her a crooked, apologetic smile. “Yeah, I suspect your mother’s under the influence of an elflock. That’s how Aliette keeps her people alive.”

  “Wait … what?” Donna resisted the urge to glare at him. This wasn’t his fault, she reminded herself. “What do you mean?”

  Xan actually looked surprised; surprised that she didn’t know something that was clearly so obvious to him. “You know that Aliette’s sort of a succubus, right? I mean, not so much with the sex part, just the part where she uses human souls to keep the elves alive in the iron world. I thought that was why you were so worried about Navin when they took him.”

  “But what does Aliette need the elflocks for?” Donna pressed. “There were a lot of them on that belt she was wearing.” She shuddered at the memory.

  “Her power is the only thing keeping the elves alive,” Xan replied. “Remember what she said in the Ironwood when we rescued Navin and Maker? Her people are dying, cut off from the Elflands’ true home within Faerie. The wood elves are gradually turning into something like wraiths—that’s why she wanted the elixir. She was hoping it might help in some way.”

  Horror was making Donna dizzy, but she forced herself to focus on what Xan was saying. “Do the alchemists know about this?”

  Oh, who was she kidding? Of course they knew. They knew all about the dark elves and about the Wood Queen. It was just Donna who didn’t know anything. She was such an idiot.

  Xan held both her shoulders and shook her. “Hey, you didn’t ask to belong to a group of liars. You can’t control what those bastards choose to tell you—”

  This time she pushed him away so hard he stumbled. She threw a quick glance at her mother and tried to keep the panic at bay. “Don’t turn this into an ‘us against them’ thing. This is about my mom!”

  “I know that.” A muscle flickered in his jaw, but to his credit he didn’t betray any other reaction to her outburst. He held up his hands as though calming a potentially dangerous animal. “I know. We’re on the same side, Donna.”

  “Stop making it about sides.”

  “Stop being so fucking childish,” he snapped.

  So much for not reacting, Donna thought nastily.

  They glared at each other, and in the growing silence between them all Donna could hear was the beep of hospital machinery and, above that, the sound of blood rushing in her ears. She felt the tattoos shift beneath her gloves, almost as though they were alive and reacting to her emotions.

  What on earth put that thought in her head? She shook herself and was relieved to feel her tattoos settle down.

  Her shoulders slumped. “I’m sorry. God, I don’t mean to be such a bitch …”

  Xan’s lips curved into a comforting half-smile. “You’re pretty good at it, though, so that’s something to smile about.”

  “Shut up,” she said, but without any real conviction. She met his eyes, grateful that he was giving her an easy out. He deserved better than her unloading her fear and frustration all over him.

  Xan gave her a speculative look, but all he said was, “The elves can’t really survive in the iron world; not for long periods of time, anyway. It’s Aliette’s power that helps them hold their glamour when they do venture across the border from the Elflands.” His expression was serious. “So the queen must have an elflock for your mom attached to that belt she wears.”

  Donna was filled with an exhilarating mixture of anxiety and excitement. This gave her something to focus on other than her anger; anger at the elves, sure, but also at the Order for keeping yet more secrets from her. But if there was something she could do—no matter how scary it might be—if she could take action of some kind, to help Mom, then she wouldn’t feel so useless.

  “Can we get it back, do you think? The elflock, I mean.”

  Xan was shaking his head. “I don’t know. Aliette wears that disgusting thing all the time.”

  Donna shivered. She knew what Xan meant: she’d caught sight of the Wood Queen’s belt back when they had been negotiating for Maker and Navin’s release. It reminded her of history lessons where she’d seen pictures of vodoun practitioners in Africa—and in the deep
South—with voodoo dolls that had real human hair. Except that the Wood Queen’s belt was strung tightly around her narrow waist and had locks of hair hanging from it like a decorative fringe made of human remains. Something about it also reminded Donna of scalping, gross as that was to think about—though Aliette at least only collected hanks of hair, braided thickly and tied with pieces of woodland vines.

  Rachel stirred slightly, turning her head away so that the white streak in the front was hidden.

  Donna fought the urge to touch her mother’s face, wondering if Mom was fighting the curse even now. There was nothing she could do for her at the moment, of course, but that didn’t mean she had to sit on her hands and just hope for a miracle.

  There may not be such things as miracles, but magic, of a sort, certainly existed. And although each of the four alchemical Orders had a different approach to magic, there was one basic rule: real magic was transformation. It was the energy you put into a project—intention, or the will of the individual alchemist—combined with preparation and ritual. The results were dependent on how strong the alchemist’s determination was. If there was something that Donna wasn’t short of, it was determination. Or stubbornness, as Navin would probably prefer to call it.

  Just thinking of Nav made her smile. Even though he’d withdrawn from her since his rescue from the Ironwood, Donna still couldn’t think of him without her heart lifting. And anyway, it wasn’t exactly easy for him to stay in touch with her—not when Aunt Paige had her shut away in the house, grounded until the hearing.

  She pulled her attention back to the room. She needed to find out as much as she could from Xan while she had the chance. “So, the elflock taken from Mom caused her condition?”

  Xan nodded slowly. “I can’t be certain, of course, but the original magic must have caused her to slip into a state of …” He trailed off.

  “It’s okay,” Donna said, her voice flat. “You can say it. Madness. She’s been going crazy for the better part of ten years.”

  Xan grimaced. “Sorry. Yeah, the elflocks take away a piece of the victim’s soul. It’s like a slice cut out and attached to the hair—because it’s something personal and organic. Your mother would have been vulnerable after that.”

  “But this time, for Mom, it’s different. It’s much worse, I mean—that’s why they brought her to the hospital.”

  “That’s the curse,” Xan said. His eyes wandered to the still figure beneath the stark blankets. “Aliette must have done something to your mother’s lock of hair, something that fully activated an elf curse.”

  “She’s sending a message.” Donna suddenly knew it was true as her mind formed a picture of the strange fey girl, Ivy. She should really tell Xan about Ivy, but right now all she wanted to think about was Mom and how they could help.

  “What would Aliette want from you now, though?” Xan asked. “The elixir is gone; she can’t use you to get that anymore.”

  Donna swallowed, trying not to let the fear take hold. “I don’t know, but I’m going to have to find out. How else can I help Mom?”

  Footsteps clattered to a halt outside the closed door, making her jump nervously. There was no way it was Nurse Valderrama, or any other nurse or doctor. They didn’t wear heels that sounded like that.

  Someone tried the door and, on instinct, Donna grabbed the handle and held it so that whoever was on the other side couldn’t get in.

  “Donna?” Aunt Paige’s voice was filled with irritation. “Open this door right now.”

  Xan watched her at the door, an amused expression crossing his face like a flickering shadow—there one moment, gone the next.

  Aunt Paige knocked on the door. “What are you doing in there?” Now she was trying to rattle the handle, but there was no way she’d be able to move it with Donna squeezing it in a death grip. “We have to get to the Frost Estate; we’re going to be late. We can still fit in the final session of the day.”

  Sighing dramatically, Donna stepped away from the door and almost laughed when her aunt fell into the room.

  Pulling herself up to her full height, and trying to regain some of her lost dignity, Paige straightened her jacket and brushed invisible pieces of lint from the material. “What on earth were you two up to?”

  “Nothing, Aunt Paige.” Donna glanced back at her mother, wondering if she really was in a coma or just sleeping. She looked like she was asleep, a fairy-tale princess waiting for a handsome prince to come and wake her from her magically induced slumber. Hadn’t Sleeping Beauty been cursed, too, and by a wicked witch? The Wood Queen was perfectly cast in that role.

  Once again, Donna remembered her father’s versions of those tales—in which a prince was pretty useless. It was always the women who fought battles and won wars in Patrick Underwood’s bedtime stories.

  Aunt Paige was watching her with an expression of barely suppressed annoyance. “We need to leave. Now.”

  Xan touched Donna’s shoulder and she gratefully turned her back on Aunt Paige. He smiled a crooked sort of smile, an expression that had become familiar to her during the few short days that she’d spent with him before that final night in the Ironwood.

  “I’ll see you soon, Donna,” he said, his voice filled with certainty.

  Sadness gripped her chest as she tried to smile back at him. “Sure. I’ll let you know what happens at the trial.”

  Her aunt snorted. “I wish you’d stop calling it that. It’s just a hearing.”

  Donna spun to face her. “What’s the difference?”

  “You’re not on ‘trial,’ Donna, and you know it. The alchemists simply need to be made aware of what happened, and why what remained of the elixir is no longer in the Order of the Dragon’s care.”

  Donna and Xan exchanged a guilty look, and she tried hard not to look at the faint scar on his forehead. Instead, she fiddled with one of the cuffs of her ruby-bright gloves. “You’re conveniently leaving out the part where representatives from the other Orders will decide on my sentence.”

  Shaking her hair out of her face, Aunt Paige put her hands on her hips. “It’s not a sentence, it’s a punishment. There’s a difference.”

  “I keep trying to tell you, Aunt Paige,” Donna said, raising her chin. “I’m not a child any more. As you said yourself, I’ll be eighteen next year. You can’t keep treating me like this, grounding me and punishing me—”

  “You’re not an adult yet,” her aunt cut in sharply. “And the more you argue with me, the more you’re simply proving my point.”

  Xan shifted uncomfortably, but kept his mouth shut when Donna shot him a fierce glance. This was nothing to do with him, and she certainly didn’t need him to fight her battles for her.

  Paige turned stiffly toward the door. “Come along. I’ve brought the car around front.”

  Donna’s stomach twisted, dread filling her as she realized this was it: they really were going to continue with this stupid hearing today. The alchemists were obviously so keen to punish her, they couldn’t even adjourn the proceedings until tomorrow—the fact that Mom was so sick didn’t mean anything.

  Aunt Paige walked out of the room, not even bothering to check on her sister-in-law before she left.

  Donna was tempted to stay where she was, but she knew she was only delaying the inevitable. And what could she really do, anyway? She could refuse to go with her aunt, but she was still a minor. Where would she even go? She let out a frustrated breath. Her aunt—or, more specifically, Simon—would somehow manage to stop her from seeing Mom if she refused to follow the rules.

  Donna looked through the open door and saw her aunt’s shoulders relax as she talked to Nurse Valderrama in the corridor. No doubt the nurse was on the Order’s payroll in some way, although she had seemed pretty cool earlier.

  Xan placed a warm hand on the small of her back and pulled her around to face him. “It’ll be okay.”

  But Donna knew they were just words; there was a long way to go before things could really be okay. “How do
you know?” she asked, keeping her voice soft.

  “Honestly?” Xan’s eyes shone.

  She frowned. That wasn’t exactly the response she’d been expecting. “Yeah, honestly. How do you know that things will be okay?”

  He pulled her into his arms and kissed her forehead. “Because,” he said, pushing her away and holding her at arm’s length, “you’re Donna Underwood, and you won’t let anything—or anyone—get in the way of you saving someone you love.”

  Her eyes felt hot; more tears threatening, just beneath the surface. “I hope you’re right.”

  Xan gave her a gentle shake. “You don’t sound so sure, but trust me when I tell you this: you will save your mother. And I’ll help you.”

  “Even though the Order has me shut away like a criminal?”

  “Like that’s going to stop you?” He smiled briefly and pulled her against him one last time.

  Donna wrapped her arms around his back and took in the musky pine scent of him. He was right. No matter how afraid she was for her mom and what might become of her, she knew that nothing would get in her way once she’d made up her mind about something. It didn’t matter how many lies the alchemists—and her aunt—told her.

  Rachel Underwood might be under an elf curse, fighting for consciousness and in danger of losing her very soul, but that wouldn’t stop Donna from doing whatever needed to be done. She closed her eyes and allowed Xan’s arms to give her the comfort she was so badly lacking.

  Finally pulling away, she wiped her eyes on her gloved hands. “I’ll be back, Mom, I promise,” she said, not caring that the words were probably wasted.

  But, just for a moment, Donna was almost certain that she saw the ghost of a smile on her mother’s pale face.

  Five

  Lunch—if it could even be called lunch considering how late it was getting—was a snatched sandwich and hastily gulped apple juice. Donna had hardly had time to freshen up before it was time to return to the hearing.

  She pushed open the bathroom door only to find herself facing a stranger—although, after a brief examination, she realized that he’d been at the opening session of the hearing that morning. It was Goth Dude, the young guy who had been sitting next to Miranda Backhouse. If he was from the Order of the Crow, as she suspected, he certainly looked the part.