Armageddon Rules (38 page)

Ari jerked me close by the elbow. “Watch your mouth with the doorman.”

“Who claims entrance to the Court of Queens?” He stepped around, blocking the arched doorway beyond.

Ari dropped my hand and stepped forward. “I do. I am Princess Arianna Thromson.”

The Court doorman looked at Ari and smiled. He knew without checking. Then his gaze turned to me, and something like a cold spotlight swept over me. “You don’t belong here.”

“We didn’t walk all the way through Kingdom to get turned away. Next time, I’ll make reservations, I promise.”

He looked over at Ari. “My lady, does your closet door no longer work? I’ll send someone to repair it.”

Ari let out a tiny squeak, and the tips of her ears flushed red. “I don’t use that way anymore.”

“We’ll talk about this later,” I said, assuring myself that I’d take plenty of time to discuss with Ari what else she might have failed to mention. I turned back to the doorman and slipped the ring from my pocket. “I have this.”

His eyes widened and the corners of his mouth turned down in a frown. “If you dare, put it on.”

I slipped it on over the engagement ring. Grimm had me prepared for I don’t know what. Turning invisible? Being able to fly? I had mood rings that did more. The doorman stepped out of the way, and Ari and I entered.

The Court of Queens resembled sixteenth-century palace meets modern-day spa and movie theater. A wide amphitheater opened before us, and at the back women lounged, having their hair done, feet up, and drinking what I hoped were margaritas.

“The Princess Arianna, Princess of Clouds,” said the doorman in a voice that echoed through the hall.

I’d never heard Ari’s title before. “Clouds? You never mentioned that. Fluffy white clouds. Awwww.”

Ari elbowed me.

The doorman looked to me and took a deep breath. “Present by proxy, Isolde Faron, Queen of Thorns.”

Thirty-Three

SILENCE LAY LIKE a heavy quilt across the Court of Queens for moments. Then whispers began to filter through it, until it sounded like a windstorm. From one of the side halls at the back of the court, a woman emerged, followed by a group of handmaidens.

I recognized the Dian-Xi, Queen of the Fifth Royal Family, current High Queen. She approached and bowed, bending at the waist until her head dipped low, but not too low. Her gray hair, pulled back in a bun, and tan skin made me think of Death. Her gaze, sharp as knives, swept over us, as she decided what sort of trouble we represented.

“Princess, it has been too long since I last saw you.” The Dian-Xi’s voice cracked when she spoke.

Ari curtsied. “Thank you, Your Highness.”

“Well, what do we have here?” I recognized the voice the moment I heard it. A high-pitched woman’s voice, like fingernails on a chalkboard mixed with a cheerleader chant.

Ari shuddered. “Gwendolyn.” That one word had more venom than all the asps at the Kingdom Post Office combined. Ari’s stepmother ranked pretty high on people I’d like to harm. In my defense, she tried to kill us both.

“Arianna, you will call me Mother.”

I’d been in deep freezers with more warmth than the two of them.

“And you will call me Ari.” Ari looked at her stepmother, and she saw Ari’s eyes for the first time.

“Witch!” Gwendolyn shrieked, causing an even louder stir. “I knew you played with Wild Magic, girl. Someone should have killed you when they had the chance. You have no place here. Go to the Witch’s gallery, and never let me see you again.” With each word, her voice rose in pitch, until the last was almost a scream.

“Patience.” The Dian-Xi walked over, her shoulders stooped, and took Ari’s hands. “The doorman would not have let you in, child, if you were a creature of darkness.” She glanced upward, into the cavernous reaches of the court.

A second level, like an opera house, stood above the amphitheater. There, shadowy forms moved back and forth, covered in cloaks. “If you take evil into your heart, you will join them there. For now, you are welcome here.”

She turned to me. “Why are you here? Why do you bring the name of suffering into our refuge?”

“I’m here to settle with Queen Mihail. She tried to have Ari killed.”

“Those are serious charges, handmaiden. You will give me an hour to convene the full court. In the interest of peace, you two will spend it in your private lounges. Come out, and I will have you both removed. The court is a place of peace.” The Dian-Xi stared at me as she spoke the last words, then took the arms of her handmaidens and shuffled away.

Ari grabbed me, towing me down around the edge of the amphitheater, to one of the three halls that split off. “You heard her.”

“You have a private lounge? And you crashed in my apartment?” Ari owed me quite a few explanations at this point.

“My last birthday gift from Mom. I don’t like going there. All it does is remind me of what I’ve lost.” Ari halted.

The guards before us did not move an inch. “Princess, you may pass. Handmaiden, by order of the High Queen, you will go to your queen’s lounge.” One of them pointed, across, to the other side.

I dropped Ari’s hand, ignoring the stares from around the room.

“Call me,” Ari said, then slipped past the guards. She practically skipped down the hallway, then disappeared into a room.

“Can I visit her?”

The guard pointed again, and I shifted my box to the other arm and walked around the back edge. One thing I hadn’t realized was how large this place was. At the back of the amphitheater, down marble stairs, a full spa stood. The women inside looked at me with fear or confusion as I passed.

The next section had full-service restaurants, and the next clothes. The Court of Queens had what amounted to a miniature mall built in. When finally I reached the far edge, I turned into the last hallway, passing the guards without a word.

Dust blanketed the floor a few feet in. With each step, I sent up tiny clouds. The most striking thing about the hallway was that it ended in a single door, heavy oak carved with figures on horseback. I reached for the door, and my hand tingled where the ring touched it. The door swung open ahead of my hand.

Now, normally rules are that you never go through a door that opens itself. Particularly not when the door leads to the one-time private hangout of an evil queen. Thing was, the High Queen had been quite clear about this being a place of peace. So I pushed the door wider and stepped in.

I don’t know what I expected. Something black. Something draped in cobwebs, like the hallway, or with bones on every table. Maybe pentagrams on the floor, or tapered candles. Instead, it looked almost pleasant. From the full couch, to the massive bed, it looked more like an ancient hotel room than the lair of evil.

Carrying a box with the head of a serial killer halfway through Kingdom had my arm aching, so I dropped it at the door. I ran my fingers on the black marble that formed a hot-tub-sized bath. The towels on the side felt soft, almost fluffy, instead of stale. Like the Black Queen had stepped out for a few minutes, but would return at any moment.

A knock on the door had me grabbing for my gun, which of course, I left back at the office. The door swung open, and the doorman entered.

“I have missed her presence these last four hundred years.” He looked around, as if expecting the Black Queen to appear.

“If you are four hundred years old, there are women who will kill for your skin-care secrets.”

He almost smiled at my joke. Almost. “I am an expression of the magic here. Judge before the court, bouncer at the door, waiter at the restaurant. I bestowed the first crowns. I record the titles of each when she is born, and when she ascends to the throne. I come to warn you, handmaiden. Dress for court appropriately, and make yourself presentable.” He pointed to the wardrobe on the right.

“I didn’t bring any clothes.”

“Your queen’s clothes will fit you, though they may be too loose in the chest and a bit tight in the hips.”

I looked at the dressing mirror, full of odd bottles of makeup, containers, combs, and pins. A white gauze hung over the mirror. It came off with a simple pull, showing a mirror like soapy water.

“Your queen has never liked mirrors. Rub it with your hand.”

I did, and it became clear. Then slowly, the milky white returned, like someone showered right next to it. When I looked back, the doorman was gone.

For a queen of evil, Isolde had pretty good sense in fashion. The dresses she wore looked fancy, but lacked sweeping trains or hoop bottoms. The black leather and cloth looked less like a dominatrix outfit and more like an old-style business suit. I slipped into one of the outfits, closing the hook and latches, and admired how well it fit. These weren’t clothes from someone used to sitting and preening. The Black Queen must have been hands-on, and kicked ass doing it.

I sat down to apply makeup, bypassing “rose shorn” and “pearl dust” in favor of the basics from my purse. As always, my hair refused to obey, fighting the brush strokes and returning to its unruly state. In one of the many drawers, I found a set of bone hair combs, and pinned my hair back on both sides.

I rubbed the dressing mirror, looking at my hair, turning to the side and glancing over my shoulder to make sure the outfit didn’t leave my rear showing. As the mirror fogged over again, a chill ran over me. I approached, watching my own outline take dim form, almost certain I’d seen something else, for a moment, looking out at me.

Taking a towel from the tub, I caught my breath, stomped on the butterflies in my stomach, and nearly broke the mirror as I forced the towel down it. I forced my eyes open and almost screamed when I saw eyes looking back.

“Marissa?”

I let out a gasp, and the shaky adrenaline rush began to fade.

Grimm. Just Grimm.

“Why are you wearing that?” His gaze flickered to the top of my head. “Who told you to wear her clothes, her jewelry? What is wrong with you? Have you never seen me before?” The room trembled slightly. Anger. That was anger in his voice.

“The doorman said to wear them. Said I had to dress up for the full court. And I didn’t think it was you in the mirror. I saw something.” I reached up to take a hairpin out and stopped. “Was it . . . ?”

“She is dead, Marissa.” Not anger. Sadness. “Please, my dear, never wear her clothing. If you have any respect for me, you will never do that. When I saw you, for a moment, my dear, I imagined my daughter.”

I glanced down at my hand. “You could have told me it was her ring.”

“Would you have dared use it if I had?” Grimm dropped his shoulders and let out a breath.

“Never.” I had so many things to be angry at Grimm for. All the things he’d never told me, all the secrets he could have shared, but it wasn’t in his nature to speak openly. Secrets were his native tongue. “I didn’t mean any disrespect. To you. The High Queen sent Ari and I to our rooms.” As I spoke, the milky fade at the edges moved in and out, like an oil stain, but it never covered Grimm’s face.

“My dear, I believe you. I just wasn’t ready to see anyone wearing that outfit. It’s what she wore when she went out on assignments with her mother. They were my most trusted agents.” I let it go. If Grimm married someone, I figured that trusting them more than me was probably okay. “Arianna would like to speak with you.”

A knock at the door nearly gave me a heart attack for the second time in a row. The doorman entered. “Handmaiden, the court is assembled. It is time.”

“I have to change.” I started to unhook the top.

“Marissa, go. You can dispose of the clothing later. My feelings on the matter shouldn’t impact your focus.” Grimm faded out, letting the soap cover him.

“Now come,” said the doorman.

“Can you carry that box?” I pointed.

“It would be my pleasure. Shall I have it placed in the bag check?” At my nod, he placed his hand on the box, and it shimmered out of view.

As we walked down the abandoned hall, I stopped, wondering about something Grimm said. “Do I look like her? Like the Black Queen?”

The doorman looked at me, squinting. “You both have brown hair and brown eyes, but your queen is more beautiful than words can describe. I will have a painting of her sent to you so you may recognize her face when she comes.”

Queens, princesses, and handmaidens lined the plush seats of the amphitheater when we emerged from the hall. The doorman led me down to the front, where the Dian-Xi waited. On one side of her, Queen Mihail stood, dressed in a gray business suit, her makeup flawless. The doorman stepped between us. “Accusers must stand on the left.” I walked to the other side, where Ari waited.

Ari wore a simple white dress with long sleeves, and with makeup that hid her freckles and made her lips rich red. I suppressed a giggle at the black sunglasses she wore over her eyes.

“Marissa? What happened to your clothes? You look like a hunter, or barbarian, or something. I love the hair though.” Ari stepped to one side, making room for me.

“Let’s say my room hasn’t had a fashion update for four hundred years—” A whistle from the Dian-Xi silenced the amphitheater.

“Sisters, I gather you to hear charges. Queen Mihail stands accused of assassination attempts on royalty of another family.” The Dian-Xi waited until the murmurs died down.