The Queen's Secret (The Queen's Secret #2) - Melissa de la Cruz Page 0,45

glimpses Jander clinging to the scruff of its neck, then driving his dagger down in a straight line. Cal’s close to the head now, close to the slavering jaws. His sword smashes into one of the giant gleaming teeth and bounces back with a clang. He has to aim higher.

Cal leaps with strength he doesn’t realize he has, sword gripped in both hands. He’s screaming now—not with pain but with fury—willing himself to land a blow that counts. With everything he can muster, Cal thrusts his sword into the beast’s eye socket. It explodes into black pieces, sharp as hail: Cal recoils from the pain of the dozens of small hits.

With a hiss the creature shrivels and disappears. Nothing is left of it but black shards—obsidian, Jander says, picking one up with a shaking hand.

Rhema lies up against one wall, streaked with blood.

“I’m alive, Chief,” she manages to say. “Don’t worry.”

“We’re all alive,” Cal says. His breath sticks in his throat. This was too close a call.

They stagger back to the entrance of the mine, Cal propping up Rhema. She’s limping badly, and one leg seems pretty useless. Jander leads the way with the glowing white stone. Cal offers up a silent prayer of thanks to the aunts. Without that light, they would have had to fight the beast in utter darkness, deafened by the wall of whispers.

Outside, the guards are gone, but their horses are still there, whinnying and stamping. Cal ties a tourniquet around Rhema’s leg while Jander busies himself making a poultice for Rhema’s wounds: He grinds turmeric with witch hazel and other herbs that Cal doesn’t recognize. He even grinds the blackened tooth they found in the mine and adds that to the mix. Cal doesn’t ask him why. Jander has been alive for a long, long time and knows more about the natural world than Cal ever will.

Rhema’s trying her best not to moan, but the grimace on her face shows how much she’s hurting. Like Lilac, Cal thinks, back when she was Shadow and just as fierce and impetuous. She slumps on the cold ground, leaning against a fallen tree, and Jander hovers over her, dabbing at her cuts with the thick herbal paste. Rhema winces with every touch. Her left leg is going to need a splint, and Cal starts looking for wood to bind what might be a fracture.

The beast down in the mine was created by dark magic, he thinks. They need to get out of this place, or at least regroup. If there’s a legion of these dark beasts, all his skill as a fighter won’t be enough to outwit the demon king’s powers. One thing’s certain: The Aphrasian order is living on, here at the abbey. The magic they’re concocting seems even more powerful, even more deadly than ever. This time he and his apprentices have escaped with their lives, but they may not be so lucky again.

Chapter Nineteen

Lilac

On the morning of the Winter Races, the courtyard below my window hums and clatters with noise. My ladies and I watch the activity—guards marching, horses straining at their ropes, stable hands and tradesmen bustling about. It’s a cold day, though the sun is bright, and the wind whips the banners positioned along the castle’s battlements.

Some horses are being readied in their colors, the ribbons and saddle mounts that announce the identity of their owners. Lord Burley’s horse, a chestnut with a bad temper, is dressed in red and gold ribbons, his colors of choice.

“Ostentatious,” Lansha, one of my ladies, declares with a sniff. “He seeks to outdo Your Majesties, as though he’s the most important personage in the land.”

“If Lord Burley needs pretty ribbons to impress us with his power and authority,” I say, “then I don’t think we need worry about him.”

They’re laughing when a groom in royal livery leads a handsome white horse into the courtyard. It whinnies and tosses its mane, sparkling as though kissed by frost.

“Such a beauty!” Lady Lansha declares. “And such a present for you, Your Majesty, from the king.”

I say nothing, though I like watching the horse stamp on the cobbles, asserting its place in this throng of men and animals. Yes, this is supposed to be my gift from Hansen, as I learned first thing this morning, and it’s about to be decorated with lilac ribbons and a lilac sash that swoops over its sleek belly. But I know that it’s the Duke of Auvigne who bought me the horse. Hansen would