Read Online The Black Queen (Book 6) by Kristine Kathryn Rusch - Free Book Online
Authors: Kristine Kathryn Rusch
Tags: Fiction
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be Black Queen. But the Fey had accepted her easily, just as she had been told they would, and no one thought of Rugad’s voice again.
Until now.
They had been careless. They had put Sebastian at risk. She had put Sebastian at risk. She hugged him close. He was so gentle and precious. She couldn’t lose him now.
“Do…not…wor-ry, Ari,” he said. “We…will…be…all…right.”
But she wasn’t sure. She wasn’t sure of anything any more.
THREE
COULTER SAT before the five swords guarding Blue Isle’s Place of Power. The swords were huge, twice as tall as he was, carved with an ancient magick. They stood, points down, in a triangular pattern in front of the door, a single sword in front, two behind it and then two more. Their jeweled hilts glinted in the spring sun, and their blades, brightly polished, reflected him as a square blur of pale flesh and blond hair.
He could see the entire valley from here: the Cardidas River flowing red as it always did through the Cliffs of Blood; the village of Constant, now more of a town, huddled against the base of the mountain; and the ridge line where, long ago, the Fey had initiated an attack that should have won them Blue Isle.
Instead, Blue Isle remained intact. Ruled by the daughter of Blue Isle’s king, in an unbroken line that had existed for over a thousand years. That the Queen of Blue Isle also had Fey blood showed the cunning of her parents; they had foreseen their unity as the only way to keep Blue Isle’s unique culture intact, and to keep the Fey from constantly attacking. The Black King of the Fey, Arianna’s great-grandfather, had wanted Arianna to become fully Fey, to lose her Blue Isle sympathies and become a ruthless military leader, but he had lost that battle early. Then here, on this mountainside, he had lost his life.
Coulter should have liked this place for that very reason. But it was here, in this cave, that he learned his own limitations. He had lost the only parent he had ever had, and had been so stunned by grief that he had endangered the lives of the only people he loved. Arianna and Gift had forgiven him, but he had never forgiven himself.
That was part of the reason he was here: he was serving penance. He kept a chair up here that he had made in Constant, and sometimes he spent entire days sitting in it, contemplating the valley below. Gift had asked him, five years before, to be the guardian of the Place of Power, and Coulter couldn’t refuse him. This place was too dangerous to be left unguarded or to trust in the hands of unknowns. If people had any inkling at all of the place’s magick, they would be able to come in here, use the items stored inside to overthrow Arianna, and take power. Or do something even worse.
Coulter wasn’t the only guard, of course. Gift had put others up here, others that he trusted. But Coulter was in charge, and he took that responsibility seriously. No one who didn’t belong here would ever gain access to the Place of Power.
The air was cool this afternoon, but it had a fragrance to it that he hadn’t smelled in months. Things were starting to grow. The winter on the mountain had been a harsh one. He had climbed the broken steps many times wearing heavy boots with a Traction spell he had learned from some Fey Domestics on its soles. He had performed that spell for the other guards as well; the last thing he wanted anyone to do was slip on the ice and fall.
Since the Place of Power had been rediscovered, no snow fell on the mountainside. It fell on the other mountains all the way down to the tree line. He found that strange, but he found many things here strange. He tried to accept them anyway.
He leaned the chair back on two legs, and the top of his head brushed the broad, flat sword blade. There was no magick in these giant swords—if there had been, he would have felt it—but the jewels in the hilt focused and aimed any magick that came through them. He liked to lean
Until now.
They had been careless. They had put Sebastian at risk. She had put Sebastian at risk. She hugged him close. He was so gentle and precious. She couldn’t lose him now.
“Do…not…wor-ry, Ari,” he said. “We…will…be…all…right.”
But she wasn’t sure. She wasn’t sure of anything any more.
THREE
COULTER SAT before the five swords guarding Blue Isle’s Place of Power. The swords were huge, twice as tall as he was, carved with an ancient magick. They stood, points down, in a triangular pattern in front of the door, a single sword in front, two behind it and then two more. Their jeweled hilts glinted in the spring sun, and their blades, brightly polished, reflected him as a square blur of pale flesh and blond hair.
He could see the entire valley from here: the Cardidas River flowing red as it always did through the Cliffs of Blood; the village of Constant, now more of a town, huddled against the base of the mountain; and the ridge line where, long ago, the Fey had initiated an attack that should have won them Blue Isle.
Instead, Blue Isle remained intact. Ruled by the daughter of Blue Isle’s king, in an unbroken line that had existed for over a thousand years. That the Queen of Blue Isle also had Fey blood showed the cunning of her parents; they had foreseen their unity as the only way to keep Blue Isle’s unique culture intact, and to keep the Fey from constantly attacking. The Black King of the Fey, Arianna’s great-grandfather, had wanted Arianna to become fully Fey, to lose her Blue Isle sympathies and become a ruthless military leader, but he had lost that battle early. Then here, on this mountainside, he had lost his life.
Coulter should have liked this place for that very reason. But it was here, in this cave, that he learned his own limitations. He had lost the only parent he had ever had, and had been so stunned by grief that he had endangered the lives of the only people he loved. Arianna and Gift had forgiven him, but he had never forgiven himself.
That was part of the reason he was here: he was serving penance. He kept a chair up here that he had made in Constant, and sometimes he spent entire days sitting in it, contemplating the valley below. Gift had asked him, five years before, to be the guardian of the Place of Power, and Coulter couldn’t refuse him. This place was too dangerous to be left unguarded or to trust in the hands of unknowns. If people had any inkling at all of the place’s magick, they would be able to come in here, use the items stored inside to overthrow Arianna, and take power. Or do something even worse.
Coulter wasn’t the only guard, of course. Gift had put others up here, others that he trusted. But Coulter was in charge, and he took that responsibility seriously. No one who didn’t belong here would ever gain access to the Place of Power.
The air was cool this afternoon, but it had a fragrance to it that he hadn’t smelled in months. Things were starting to grow. The winter on the mountain had been a harsh one. He had climbed the broken steps many times wearing heavy boots with a Traction spell he had learned from some Fey Domestics on its soles. He had performed that spell for the other guards as well; the last thing he wanted anyone to do was slip on the ice and fall.
Since the Place of Power had been rediscovered, no snow fell on the mountainside. It fell on the other mountains all the way down to the tree line. He found that strange, but he found many things here strange. He tried to accept them anyway.
He leaned the chair back on two legs, and the top of his head brushed the broad, flat sword blade. There was no magick in these giant swords—if there had been, he would have felt it—but the jewels in the hilt focused and aimed any magick that came through them. He liked to lean
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