The Queen of Fairy, The Madigan Chronicles #5

THE QUEEN OF FAIRY

The Madigan Chronicles Book 5

By Marieke Lexmond

PROLOGUE

FAIRY, A LONG, LONG TIME AGO

The three suns hover in the sky, intermittently blocked when one of the whale-like creatures that inhabit the sky in Fairy floats by. A gentle breeze keeps the temperature at a comfortable level. The air is heavy with the sweet scent of flowers, and insect-like animals buzz from one flower to the next. Eztli, a human witch, strolls through Oberon’s private gardens. Suddenly, the alarm bells in her head go off, only seconds before the slender figure of Mab, one of Oberon’s daughters, steps out from behind a bush, blocking her path.

“My darling! How are you doing?” She grins wildly as her slender fingers reach for Etzli’s pregnant belly.

Instinctively, Etzli steps back, covering her unborn child protectively with her right hand, while her left hand’s fingers twinkle with the beginning of a spell. “It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it?” she utters.

Mab’s laugh is grating, making Etzli wince. “When are you due?”

“A couple more weeks.” Etzli, as a witch, knows exactly when her time is.

Mab takes a step forward, her tall figure, her wings on full display, towering over Etzli’s stocky, bronze frame. But the witch holds her ground, refusing to step back. “I can’t wait to meet my half-sister,” Mab purrs, while her wings flutter and shimmer in the light.

Unsure how to respond to that, Etzli musters up a weak smile, at the same time reinforcing the spell at her fingertips.

Mab’s eyes narrow for a moment, before her smile returns. Her next words are laced with Fairy magic. “With our family thinning out, we need new blood to play with.”

Her words literally sting; Etzli struggling to hide her discomfort. “There will be plenty of time for that. My daughter will be thrilled to have a big sister who’ll look out for her.”

“I won’t let her out of my sight.” Mab’s sharp nail traces the contours of Etzli’s cheekbone, enough to be uncomfortable, but not enough to draw blood.

Etzli has spent enough time in Fairy to know the importance of keeping a blank face; she knows she must never show any fear—ever!

Sweat starts to roll down her back, the tension between them is thick with hatred. Frightened of being attacked, Etzli lifts her left hand...

“There you are!” Oberon’s warm voice cascades around her, instantly calming her down.

Mab is now suddenly, magically, five feet away, smiling pleasantly. “Father, always wonderful to see you. I was just telling Etzli, I can’t wait to have a younger sister.”

His eyes play over his lover as he throws an arm around his daughter’s shoulder. “Are you staying? We’re about to share some food.”

“Next time. Unfortunately, I have things to attend to.” With a peck on his cheek and a last lingering glance at Etzli’s belly, Mab stalks away.

Etzli still can’t relax. “It’s time I go.”

“Don’t overreact,” Oberon whispers, resting his hand on her swollen belly. “She’s difficult, my little Mab, but I know you can handle her. I don’t want you to go.”

“Mab wants to be Queen. You know that. You can’t protect me all the time, and I’m not putting this child at risk being here. You know I must go.” She smiles gently. “But let’s not waste our last moments together arguing.” She pulls him towards her, kissing him on the lips.

“You are the love of my life,” he whispers to her. The garden resonates with the truth being spoken. Eztli zings with pleasure and, without hesitation, she pulls him even closer, murmuring endearments, showing him what their love means to her.

“I know, love, I know.” Eztli closes her eyes, drinking in his touch. “But our daughter will be mostly human; it will be better for her on Earth. And anyway, I have my duties.” She opens her eyes and touches the ring on her finger—pain flashes across her eyes when she thinks of those last dying moments of Colel, her twin. The ring holds their family’s knowledge and secrets. It’s her legacy.

“Stay,” he pleads with her.

It’s so tempting, but then Mab’s eager fingers also flash before her eyes, reaching for her child. Her gut tells her that to stay is foolish. “We have mixed blood, and we’re blessed with a long life. However, not an eternity like yours, and, more importantly, your daughters won’t like it.”

“I’m King!” Oberon can’t hide his irritation.

Eztli grabs his hand; they’ve had this conversation many times. “Let me go.” Her soft words are laced with a finality and urgency he can’t deny. “You will manage to open more portals and it will be easy for you to come and visit me – us,” she adds with a smile.

Oberon falls to his knees, reverently cupping her pregnant belly. “I love you, always.”

They think they’re alone. But the Keeper of the Land is doing his rounds; in his dematerialized state as he tends to the Land, his tiny particles reaching every far corner of Fairy’s Land. His consciousness senses the gravity of this moment and is drawn to the secret garden. Still one with living things, he can see his King with his lover. Unable to let this opportunity pass, he listens in. One day, this knowledge might prove vital. In Fairy, knowledge is power.

PART 1

TEN OF CUPS “FAMILY”

“Being happy doesn’t mean everything’s perfect. It means you’ve decided to look beyond the imperfections.”

-Unknown

FAIRY

A funnel of ice, steam, and water erupts from the Cup of Plenty, one of the four elemental power objects. Mab can see it glimmering as the ice shards pummel her face. The tendrils extending from her fingers connect with it, pulling her up, making it unnecessary to worry too much about keeping her eyes open. With her senses heightened, she can feel the temptation of this exceptional object. The onslaught intensifies and, vaguely, she can make out a figure close to the Cup; that must be its guardian.

Her mind is racing; she will need to retract the tendrils to be able to grab the Cup. Scanning around, ignoring the pain from the endless shards of ice penetrating her skin, she sees one — no, two people. There’s no time to waste. When she’s just a few feet away from the object, she let’s go and grabs blindly for it. When her fingertips graze the rim, she unleashes all her power, a shield of massive Fairy magic, flinging it toward her opponents. Her hand locks itself over the rim of the Cup. But when her wall of magic collides with whatever the others have sent her way; a loud bang shatters it, hurtling her and a fragment of it right back into Fairy.

The image freezes, then rewinds, back to the exact moment the Cup splintered. Mab, Queen of Fairy, steps through the image which hangs in the middle of her inner sanctum. She walks up to her two opponents who now each have a fragment of the Cup as well. Snowflake, the guardian of the Cup, and that annoying witch, Lucy Lockwood, a thorn in her side for many years. With her long fingers, she touches the memory, and, with a whisper, it folds itself back into one of the globes. A fairy’s way to preserve the past, allowing her to access the memory and history when needed.

Mab is in the only place no other fairy, creature, or human has ever been. Somewhere she can indeed be herself. Today, Mab is in her human form, tall and sensuous, wearing a tight body suit in her signature red, and decorated with all the other colors of the spectrum. Fairies love color; it’s something interwoven in them and their magic. Even though fairies are immortal, she aged in a different way, the centuries gone by etched in her eyes and the way she holds herself. Her impressive wings are neatly folded away; they might be beautiful and intimidating, but they are not always practical.

The room with organic formed curves and rounded corners gravitates toward a rather disturbing centerpiece. Its eerie form is constructed from the bones of all sorts of living things interwoven with precious stones. The top resembles a bowl; in it lays a shard—one third of the Cup of Plenty—one of the four elemental power objects on Earth. Mab had long coveted one to boost her powers.

At last, here it is. Or rather, a part of one. She can sense its tremendous potential. Even though it’s shattered, Mab can still feel the turmoil of the emotional power of Water. She has been circling it for a while now, and there’s a problem besides the obvious one—that it’s broken. Mab is a fairy, and the elemental powers derive from Earth. There are similar elements in Fairy, guarded and nurtured by the Keepers. Mab, as its Queen, is connected to all of them. Those are Fairy elements, and they can’t help her to link to this one. She doesn’t possess any witch magic. Witch and fairy magic are the same and yet not the same. It’s maddening! Frustrated, she lets out a roar that reverberates throughout Fairy.

With purposeful strides she exits her room, the door swinging shut behind her. Swiftly, she walks through hallways full of fairies and creatures that drop into a deep curtesy when they see her. Mab doesn’t acknowledge any of them; she has ruled with fear since she came to power. Whoever crossed her was dealt with severely. For eons, nobody dared to challenge her or question her motives. Now, she must admit, it has become a touch boring.

This rush she feels after the fight for the Cup is still flowing through her. After she had returned to Fairy, it had taken considerable time spent in a dematerialized state, drawing on all things Fairy, to restore her to her full glory. But now, full of energy, she’s ready for the next step.

Finally, she gets to the courtyard of her extensive palace. In the middle of the square stands a lone tree without any leaves, its bark intertwined with fairies and creatures that dared to irritate her. It acts as a public reminder that disobedience is punished. Slowing her pace, her hand caresses the faces merged with the tree. Her subjects, despite being stuck, shudder under her touch. Slowly circling the tree, Mab stops in front of Mara, a young witch, granddaughter of Lucy Lockwood, who, in order to save her younger sister from becoming Mab’s minion, has sworn to serve her for ten years. But after Mara attempted to grab the Cup for herself, she needed to be reminded whom she served and ended up in the tree.

With a simple command in Mab’s mind, the tree ripples back, releasing Mara, who falls to the ground. Her limbs do not work after being fixed in the same position for such a long time. Mab casually wraps her fingers around the witch’s neck and lifts her up. “Who do you serve?” she asks, looking Mara directly in the eyes.

A gurgling sound comes from Mara’s throat, but no words come out.

Mab shakes her. “Come on, you’re a witch. You should be able to heal yourself from a small ordeal like this. Unless, of course, you’re worthless. In that case…”

Mara closes her eyes, and Mab smiles, sensing the girl draw on her magic. Whenever anybody uses witch magic in Fairy, the Queen is aware. It’s forbidden unless she allows it. “Who do you serve?”

“You, my Queen,” Mara manages to squeeze out. But a defiant flicker in her eyes doesn’t go unnoticed by Mab.

“That’s better,” Mab says. She opens her hand and Mara tumbles to the ground. “Gather yourself, then come to my quarters.” Without looking back, she walks away.

*

Mab isn’t in her study long when a confident knock signals Mara’s arrival. “Come in,” she commands.

Her personal office is a fluent room full of memory globes, manuscripts, and living entities that stroke Mab constantly. It’s one of the ways she’s connected to all things Fairy. There are no tables or chairs like a human room would have; Mab simply floats.

Mara steps through the door looking surprisingly fresh. On seeing the Queen, she instantly falls to her knees, her long locks covering her face. “How can I serve you?” she asks.

“I need you to help me connect to the fragments of the Cup.”

“You will need the other fragments first,” Mara firmly answers.

“Look at me!” Mab orders her.

Mara gets up and, with a blank face, she says, “It will only work if the Cup is whole.”

Mab leans back, clearly enjoying the tickles of the entities in her room. “How do you suggest we do that?”

“I could go back to Greenland.”

Mara didn’t even see Mab move before her hand is around her throat for a second time.

“I bet you would love that. You’re not going anywhere, missy.” Mab’s drawl is laced with venom. “The fragment held by the Guardian will be the hardest to get, as she’s still connected to it; and Greenland is difficult to reach. Your Granny, however, is our best bet.” She lets Mara go, floating back to her spot between the tendrils. “You’ve burned that bridge; your Gran knows you’re mine. So, we will do nothing. Let them come for my fragment, here. They don’t stand a chance. Until then, you can figure out how I can attune myself when the time comes.”

With a wave of her hand, she dismisses Mara, who slinks away. No need to tell that witch she intends to see if she can get her hands on Lucy’s fragment herself.

NEW ORLEANS

Tara Madigan, the family matriarch, a woman in her 70s, is sleeping late. The house has been alive for several hours. The enticing smell from the kitchen has found its way up to her room together with the creaking sounds of the others moving as silently as possible through the house. Not yet! Not yet! Just a bit longer.

Her room in their Garden District home faces East, so now, with the drapes pulled open, sunlight warms her body. It has been her room for as long as she can remember—hers and Lucy’s. Thinking about her twin instantly awakens her twin bond. Lucy Lockwood has been banned from the family since their mother passed on the Wand of Wisdom, one of the four elemental power objects, to Tara. Lucy had attempted to grab the power for herself, but she was a young witch, only in her twenties, and no match for their mother. It was such a traumatic time for all of them. Despite their best efforts, the twins lost touch and their connection waned—until Lucy stole the Dagger of Consciousness. When this whole race for control over the elemental objects began, it inevitably awoke her awareness of her sister.

Tara examines the feelings that flow through their special bond; it is like an invisible birth cord, an open channel through which they can share thoughts and energy. This morning, Lucy seems to be doing better. Tara senses less energy is being siphoned from her. Good.

This happy thought is quickly followed by guilt about what she’s doing—aiding someone who has harmed her family and others. It propels her thoughts back to several weeks ago when the battle for the Cup occurred in Greenland. Tara was handling the bar in Under the Witches Hat, the family business. Out of the loop since she had passed on the Wand to her granddaughter, Bridget, she had found renewed purpose and joy in her work there. Freed from the burden of responsibility, she felt almost giddy.

She was brewing some teas and elixir for the early afternoon crowd when she doubled over, engulfed by an unimaginable pain coursing through her, followed by a desperate scream in her head.

“Mom?!” Ron, her son, abandons his paperwork at the bar, and sprints over to her.

Tara is still bent over, sucking in air.

“Mom, what’s wrong?” Ron can’t hide his concern and runs a scan with his magic, looking for any injury.

“I - I need a moment.”

Ron helps her to a chair in the corner. “Can I get you anything?”

“Water?” Tara musters, more to give him something to do. She needs space. A second bolt of pain hits her; but this time she’s better prepared, managing to let it rush through her. What the hell is going on?

“Help me!” A desperate plea whirls around her mind.

“Lucy?” Tara answers silently.

“Help me! I’m hurt badly.” Lucy has thrown open their old twin connection. Her desperate need must have helped to restore that lifeline, and no words are necessary anymore. Now Tara understands who’s trying to reach her, she can make sense of the pain and desperation.

“Here.” Ron hands his mother a glass of water. Her hand is trembling uncontrollably, and water spills. Ron gently takes it from her and puts it on the table. “Do I need to call an ambulance?”

Tara shakes her head.

“This is not right. I’m …”

Tara grabs Ron’s arm. “I’m okay. Let me be for a minute.” Her angry glare makes him back away. With concerned eyes, he takes over her shift at the bar.

Tara turns inward, trying to figure out which feelings are Lucy’s, and which are hers. It’s obvious Lucy is badly hurt. Tara’s mind is racing. She knows Lucy is in Greenland hunting for the Cup of Plenty. Something must have happened.

“Save me…sister.” Lucy’s life force is waning.