Dead Man's Deal The Asylum Tales - By Jocelynn Drake Page 0,69

repeated.

I closed my eyes and let those wonderful words sink into me again. She didn’t ask any questions. She didn’t say anything besides those three words, because it was her way of showing that it was okay, that we’d get through whatever happened. Trixie knew who, or rather what, I had met, and by my appearance, she knew that at least I put up a fight. I wasn’t sure if we’d ever talk about what occurred while we were separated, but I liked to think that she’d at least try to understand.

When I opened my eyes, I looked over Trixie’s head at the queen. She was sitting stiff on her little bench, one delicate hand pressed to her open mouth while tears glistened in her wide eyes. She was also looking pale.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered in a wavering voice. “I’ve made a terrible mistake.”

Regret. Not because she had attacked a warlock and was now afraid of retaliation. She regretted what she had done because she had hurt two people who didn’t deserve her venom. There were some people in this world who were born to be villains. They killed and tortured with no remorse. The queen of the Summer Court was not one of them. She had been carrying centuries’ worth of pain and anger around. It drove her to strike out and now she regretted her action.

A frown tugged at the corners of my lips. Trixie’s love and the queen’s regret had cooled the last of my anger so that I was ready to block the event from my mind.

“I forgive you,” I said in a rough voice as the words were lodged in my throat.

A thousand times over in my mind, I had thought that if the world was to ever find peace with the Towers, two things would need to happen. The warlocks and the witches would need to express regret and the world would have to forgive. How could I ever expect the world to do such a thing if I couldn’t do it myself?

Trixie loosened her tight hold on my neck and pulled back so that she could look up at me. I smiled a little at her shocked expression before pressing a quick kiss to her forehead.

“Shall we continue with our meeting?” I asked.

Trixie released me and we returned to our places before the queen. Reaching into my back pocket, I pulled out the white envelope and dropped it on the little table holding her teacup and saucer.

“Your fresh mint, Your Majesty,” I said.

With a slightly trembling hand, she reached forward and picked it up. Placing the crumpled, blood-streaked envelope in her lap, she gently ran her fingers over it while keeping her head down.

“What do you need of me next, Your Majesty?” I said, and her head popped up with a look of surprise. “I will do whatever task I must so that Rowena will no longer be pursued and barred from her people.”

The queen looked down at her hands in her lap and her shoulders slumped slightly. For a moment she looked uncomfortable, but it passed and her shoulders straightened again as she lifted her narrowed eyes to my face. “I’m older than I look to you. I remember back centuries, to a time when the warlocks and witches didn’t try to crush the races of the world. They were scholars and . . . healers.”

I nodded. “It’s sad that the Towers strayed from such a role.”

“When I spoke with Eldon, he intimated that you might be willing to lend some assistance in exchange for some leniency toward Rowena,” she said carefully.

“I would be honored to lend Your Majesty any assistance that I possibly can,” I said with a slight bow that had me grimacing as the movement caused fresh pain to shoot through my back. “However, I must interject one thing. While you’re correct in that I have a past with the Towers, certain choices I have made in that respect have resulted in . . . my hands being tied in a way.”

Her lovely faced twisted as she frowned. “What choices? In what way?”

I shoved my hands in my pockets and sighed. “The Towers ruled that if I was going to be permitted to leave, I had to give up magic.”

“But you . . .” Her voice drifted off as she motioned toward the gazebo entrance and a fresh look of horror slipped across her face. Yes, she had sent me to Demoiselle Noire de Gruchy with the idea that