Queene Of Light. Jennifer Armintrout

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СКАЧАТЬ me what you must, then take me to the healer.” If he survived the journey, he would devise another way to die.

      “So, how did this happen to you? I mean, how does one accidentally fall? It seems like something you’d have to do intentionally.” Keller’s voice was muffled by the box he’d buried his head in. Occasionally he cursed and tossed something over his shoulder.

      The memories were clouded, but something flickered through Malachi’s mind. A blaze of orange. Had there been flames? No. It had been…a Faery.

      Rage burned his veins. Now this was an emotion he could grow to enjoy. It pulled the past few hours into sharp focus, gave him purpose. He could not seek death. Not when he could feel this anger grow in him, fuel him to seek out the Faery who had stolen his immortality and get the revenge due him. If mortals felt this exhilaration every time someone wronged them, perhaps he did envy them a bit after all.

      “Hey, buddy?” Keller had been staring at him, Malachi had no idea how long.

      But he did know what he would do next. “Take me to the healer.”

      Five

      The Queene did not leave her chambers until long after sunup. It annoyed Garret to know the reason for his sister’s laziness. It was either Cedric, Master of the Assassins’ Guild, or Tristan, his Second-in-Command. It could even be Robin Goodfellow, that low-class Trickster, just because he amused her.

      Disgusting, the way Mabb carried on. In her hunger for an heir, it seemed she would bed any attractive Fae that could charm her with pretty words. It was ridiculous, really, for an immortal ruler to worry about her lineage. Especially when she had a younger, more qualified brother who would gladly assume the throne should something happen to end her reign.

      Gods forbid.

      He waited in her personal drawing room, easily one of the most extravagantly decorated rooms in the Palace. No bare cement for Queene Mabb. She had real wood panels shielding her eyes from the rough sight, and thick grass grew to cushion her delicate footsteps. The furniture had been fashioned of real wood, intricately carved, and somehow she found fresh flowers to garland the round doors. The entire Palace was a wonder to behold, but only in Mabb’s private rooms was there such sumptuous detail. Garret thought of his own dwelling outside the Palace, one room, large for the Underground but still minute compared to the Palace. And why was this not his? Because he had been born second.

      He was welcome to live in the Palace, of course, if he wished to be subject to his sister’s scrutiny. She had a keen insight and wielded it against her brother like a sword, but could she turn it on herself? Of course not, Garret thought bitterly, watching maids scurry to and fro with bowls of hot water and towels for her morning beauty rituals. The water had come from Sanctuary, no doubt, for Mabb found it inconvenient to leave the Palace and demanded the springs brought to her.

      “Don’t you make that face at us, Garret.” Scota, a pretty maid with butterfly wings the color of saffron, clucked her tongue disapprovingly at him. Her tone was reproachful, but her dark eyes sparkled with mirth. “Your sister works hard and deserves a bit of pampering.”

      “Oh, I agree on that score. My only doubt lies in who exactly she has been working hard.” He gave the maid a drowsy smile, knowing the effect it had on the low-class females of the Palace. Scota had lovely fair skin and yards of curling dark hair, but he would never consider someone of her station for more than a bit of sport. Still, it did not hurt to leave his options open, especially when he had not enjoyed such diversions with Ayla yet.

      Scota blushed prettily and dipped her head, but Garret’s mind now centered firmly on his student. Ayla. Low-class if ever an urchin was born. Half-Human, and how that tormented his dear, dear sister. But there was a wild sort of elegance to her, the way she moved as though she were meant to be a dancer, the way her hair snapped like red ribbons all around her. Of common birth, yes, but not so fragile as his dear, worthless sister. Ayla would give him heirs, and his sister would despair.

      But it wasn’t all to torment his sister. His affection for Ayla ran deep and true. Of all the Faeries at Court he could take as consort, it suited him that the only one he wanted was the one who would not have him. Oh, she would, and soon. He sensed her will bending like a reed under a stiff wind. Still, his prey would succumb only after a long and satisfying hunt.

      Another maid exited the Queene’s bedchambers and bobbed a small bow to him. “She will see you now, Your Grace.”

      “So soon?” He snapped, knowing this quivering servant was not to blame for the delay and not caring. Forcing down his anger, he fixed his most charming smile and strode into the Queene’s bedchamber.

      If the sitting room was extravagant, the Queene’s bedchamber surpassed it. The floor here was marble, polished to a deep green shine. No other place in the Underground could boast such splendor. Mabb’s bed sat on a dais, and curtains of sheer gauze were pulled back, displaying the mountains of rich fabric pillows and bolsters Mabb nested amongst. The tall, carved posts reached almost to the ceiling, where, in a marvel of Underground ingenuity, an illusion of the sky had been fashioned to disguise the broken tiles and pipes that had been there before. Mabb detested anything mortal, but she condescended to allow electricity for this one purpose, to keep a facsimile sun glowing down on her in the day and thousands of tiny, fake stars twinkling above her at night.

      In the middle of all the disgusting excess, Mabb stood before a floor-length mirror held by one of her maids while two others fussed over her appearance. Like a beautiful statue, she stood straight and tall, her pale skin appearing even paler above the lavender gossamer of her gown. As always, her wings were bound and covered. Garret was not certain he had ever seen her wings, even when they were children. Mabb was such a beauty, there could be no part of her that was less than fair, and perhaps that was why she kept them covered.

      One of the maids adjusted Mabb’s sleeve and Garret spied a pattern of flowers comprised of amethyst and peridot. The stones practically sang their outrage at being used for no real purpose other than to decorate a spoiled Queene’s garments.

      Mabb’s gaze met her brother’s in the mirror, and her expression brightened by cool degrees. She waved away the servant fussing over her hair, so ice-blond as to appear white, and jerked her sleeve from the other maid. They did not need a verbal cue to dismiss them, and they scurried from the room as Mabb turned to her brother. “Garret. When I heard you waited for an audience this morning you could not imagine my deep pleasure.”

      “I am sure I cannot.” He had come to her prepared to charm, but now he could only snipe at her like a petulant child. “I am sorry, I did not sleep well.”

      “Did the patrols not return your errant student?” She punctuated the sentence by flicking a piece of nonexistent lint from her shoulder. “No matter, I am sure she will come back on her own.”

      “She did come back, no thanks to the patrols. But it was an upsetting experience I do not wish to repeat.” He eyed the elaborate writing desk in the corner, piled high with sheaves of parchment bearing the Guild symbol and hoped Mabb’s gaze would follow.

      “Garret, would you really hold her back from her ambition for your own comfort?” A mothering tone colored Mabb’s words.

      It was meant to grate on him, Garret knew, not guide him. “We have discussed this before. When she is my mate—”

      “She has not yet accepted you as her mate, has she? Nor have you declared her.” Mabb waved a dismissive hand. “If you have only СКАЧАТЬ