Before I could ask him who stood in the hallway, or why Lensa had fled, the faerie prince crossed the room.
He opened one of the doors and stepped aside.
Another female walked into the room.
I knew instantly that she was different from most of the fae I’d met—her tread was slightly heavier, as if she were accustomed to wearing boots or armor. Her beauty was typical of her kind, though. Mab was ancient, and yet she didn’t look much older than forty. She had a curtain of ash-brown hair and her skin was fair. Her eyes were vibrantly green. She wore a dramatic gown of maroon velvet, which rustled like a whispering crowd as she stopped in the center of the room and faced me.
“Well, don’t be rude, dear,” the faerie chided, raising her raven brows at Laurie. She held her hand out in my direction, her fingers dangling elegantly. I was supposed to kiss it, I realized, still darting glances at Laurie.
He didn’t sigh, but his expression bore the signs of one. His voice was flat as he said, “Fortuna, allow me to introduce you to my mother, Queen Mab of the Seelie Court.”
CHAPTER NINE
“Queen Regent,” the tall female corrected Laurie, hardly sparing him a glance. Her focus had gone downward, fixing on the torn mess of my midsection. Mab’s tone was mild as she remarked, “Your guest is injured, Laurelis.”
“Yes, Mother, I’m quite aware, thank you. Maria should be here soon.”
“Fortuna,” the Queen Regent murmured thoughtfully, studying me. “Would you happen to be Fortuna Sworn? The Nightmare that’s been making such a fuss recently?”
If she weren’t a faerie, and if she weren’t Belanor’s mother, I might’ve liked her blatant disregard for etiquette.
“Correct,” I said, meeting her vibrant gaze. Laurie’s scent may have made me think of springtime, but peering into Mab’s eyes transported me there, and it felt as if I were surrounded by trees sporting huge, freshly-sprouted leaves. Following a stray but insistent instinct, I decided to match the queen’s bluntness and added, “I thought Laurie’s mother was dead.”
Viessa had been the one to tell me, in fact, during the conversation when I first learned who Laurie was. His mother’s nickname for him, while she was still alive, she’d said.
Later, I assumed it was true when I heard Laurie speaking of his mother in the past tense.
The Queen Regent didn’t seem to take offense to my comment. “By blood, I am the children’s aunt. Many years ago, their biological mother, my sister, was killed by her lover. Oberon.”
She said his name as if it had happened yesterday. Her face didn’t change, but her voice held such quiet hatred that my skin prickled with awareness. This is a person to be afraid of, instinct whispered.
Unaware of the tension coiling inside me, Queen Mab turned toward Laurie and gave him a close-lipped smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “I came to raise the children and hold the throne for Laurelis until he deemed himself ready. Which I have now returned to do for Prince Belanor,” she finished.
“I had no idea,” was all I could think to say. It was the truth. Laurie had never spoken of this, any of it. We had far more in common than I could’ve imagined—both of us with a parent taken violently, both of us raised by females who weren’t our mothers. Not from birth, at least. Whatever his quarrel with her, Laurie did refer to Mab as his mother, which was more than I could say for me and Maureen.
As the awkward silence continued, Queen Mab tilted her head and studied me anew. At that moment, I finally saw Laurie. He must’ve taken after his father in most ways, but he had the curve of his aunt’s neck, her inquisitive movements. “How extraordinary. And here I thought your kind had been extinguished from the world,” Mab remarked.
“There are still a few of us around, if you know where to look,” I said. My mind flashed back to that moment, Gil leaning against the wall, his bleached hair gleaming in the fluorescent lights. Those had been his words. Back when he was still a Nightmare, and we hadn’t crept through the bowels of Hell to escape Belanor Dondarte’s reach. It already felt like that had been hours ago.
As Queen Mab stared down at me, I thought about what I’d read of her from the books in Collith’s library. She had a twin, Titania—twins ran in the family, it seemed—who was apparently Laurie’s biological mother. Before Mab was a queen, she’d been a warrior. In those ancient days, she’d gone by the name Maeve, and I wasn’t sure why she’d changed it. She was not known for cruelty or darkness, but she was not afraid to take lives or spill blood.
The books also called her Queen Wolf.
“Tomorrow,” she announced, startling me, “I will host a ball. No, a fundraiser, and my enthusiasm for the cause will explain the rapid timing. I cannot openly act against my son—with his coronation on the horizon, and the sheer number of supporters he’s gained, such a thing would surely cleave this Court in two—so the rest I leave to you.”
“Might be for the best to make it a masked event,” Laurie put in.
Queen Mab considered this only for a second before she nodded. She started to turn away.
“Why would you help me? What do you want?” I asked, knowing it was foolish even as the words left my mouth. Faeries were fickle and violent; Mab could get annoyed and change her mind in a blink.
Mab appraised me again, her face expressionless. Looking back at her, I suddenly got the sense that I was speaking to something very, very ancient. Goosebumps rose across my skin. “I love my children, Lady Sworn, even when one of them is born with darkness in his heart,” the queen said. “If I cannot bring myself to end him, I will do whatever I can to slow his descent.”
By the time she finished speaking, it was obvious to me that Mab knew. She knew how evil Belanor was, and she wasn’t going to do anything about it. She was saving my life, for whatever reason, but I’d bet most of her son’s victims weren’t so lucky. It was impossible that a faerie as intelligent as Mab was unaware of the Games. How many people had died because she looked the other way while Belanor explored his darkness?
Before I could form a response, Mab’s smile changed. It was subtle, but the tilt to her lips said that she’d seen my disgust. “Well met, Lady Sworn,” she murmured, turning away again.
I didn’t say anything. I didn’t trust myself.
Laurie left my side to walk his mother to the door. They’d only taken two steps when the queen moved. Quick as a rattlesnake strike, her pale hand reached for Laurie’s arm.
“This is how we keep it neutral,” she said quietly, her grip on him fierce. Her fingernails, painted black, gleamed in the lamplight. “This is how our family survives.”
“It’s always about neutrality for you,” Laurie muttered back. “Imagine the fun we could wreak upon the world if you’d just let loose once in a while.”
They were speaking in code, I thought as I stood there, a silent audience to this strange play. Their tones said they’d had this conversation countless times before, and both knew it would always end the same way. Mab lifted her hand and briefly cupped Laurie’s cheek, murmuring, “Sleep well, my child.”
He just nodded and stepped back. Mab turned as though she were unaffected by his coldness. The guards standing outside must’ve heard her footsteps, because the doors opened before she reached them. They stood on either side of her as she passed, and two more guards in the hall shifted to put their bodies ahead and behind Mab.