Queen of Wands (The Tree of Ages Series Book 4) Read online

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Queen of Wands

  Book Four in the Tree of Ages Series

  Sara C Roethle

  Vulture’s Eye Publications

  Copyright © 2017 by Sara C Roethle

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Note from the Author

  Glossary

  Chapter One

  The small inn room felt hot. Bedelia shifted uncomfortably, wishing she could escape.

  “Stop fidgeting,” Anna snapped.

  Bedelia shifted again in her seat, swiping her short, dark brown hair from her face using her good arm. She glanced at the aggravated wound on her other, high up on her shoulder. “Leave it alone, it’s fine.”

  Anna grasped Bedelia’s biceps firmly, forcing her back down into her chair as she tried to stand. “If you won’t let me tend your wound, you could very well slow us down on the road. If you slow us down, you will be left behind.”

  Bedelia bristled at the threat, then relaxed. Finn wouldn’t leave her behind just because Anna was being cranky. She attempted to tug the collar of her burgundy tunic back up over her bandage free wound. “It’s fine, the Aos Sí already tended it.”

  “Yes,” Anna sighed, moving back behind Bedelia’s chair to peer at the arrow wound in her shoulder. “Then they whipped you and marched you through the muck until you were near death. It needs to be retended.”

  She ground her teeth. The cursed wound hurt bad enough without Anna prodding at it. She heard dripping as Anna wrung out the cloth, soaking in scalding hot water. The water stung like hot coals, though Anna’s hands seemed impervious.

  Her breath hissed out as Anna placed the wet cloth on the edge of her shoulder wound and began to dab. She clenched her fingers around the base of her chair and accepted the treatment.

  She became momentarily distracted from her pain as a soft chittering sound emanated from a lump of blankets on the bed behind them. Naoki, Finn’s pet dragon, had been snuggled up there all morning. The creature had taken to spending most of its time in the woods surrounding the burgh, no longer in constant need of Finn’s care, but would still sneak in through the inn’s windows in the morning to lie in a cushy bed.

  “You probably still have shards of wood in there from them breaking the arrow like that,” Anna muttered, returning Bedelia’s attention to her.

  She grimaced, thinking back to the Aos Sí’s surprise attack. They’d ended up tending her not long after they sent an arrow through her, but it hadn’t been a very clean job. Being out in the woods, the quickest option was to break the arrow near her wound, then pull it through. She was quite sure she did have shards of wood in there, but she wasn’t about to let Anna pick them out.

  A knock on the door preceded Kai peeking his head in. His shoulder-length, chestnut colored hair fell to the side as he watched them. “Are you two done yet? We’d hoped to be on the road by sunrise.”

  Bedelia turned in time to see Anna scowl in his direction. “Yes,” Anna snarled, “then Sativola had too much whiskey and couldn’t find his boots, and Finn needed private time to commune with her blasted horse! I’m not the one preventing our departure.”

  Bedelia began to stand again, ready to use Kai’s distraction to escape the room, but Anna gripped her arms, forcing her back down.

  “Iseult put up less fuss than you!” Anna growled at her.

  She ceased her struggles, genuinely surprised. “Iseult let you tend his wounds?”

  “Yes,” Anna said more calmly.

  Kai left the door ajar as he moved into the room to hover over them.

  “Apparently Finn cannot provide miraculous healing to us all,” Anna added.

  Bedelia turned to see her scowling at Kai again. She found herself once more wondering about the exact details of the night Kai almost died. All she knew was that Anna and Finn had stayed near his deathbed, and in the morning he was good as new. She’d also noticed large matching scars on Finn and Kai’s palms, but could not say for sure if they’d been there before that night.

  The hot cloth touched down again on her shoulder. “Curse you, woman!” she hissed. “You could at least let the rag cool a bit.”

  Anna very deliberately placed the rag back in the water, lifting it in and out a few times like a mop, then slapped it back on Bedelia’s shoulder.

  “Argh!” she groaned, but bit her tongue before she could make her situation any worse.

  “I think I’ll just go tend the horses,” Kai muttered, slowly backing away from Anna.

  As he retreated quietly to the door to let himself out, Bedelia glared in his direction. Traitor.

  The rag slapped down again.

  She gritted her jaw, refusing to complain any more.

  “I see you’ve come to your senses,” Anna said haughtily. She began to dab the rag more gently.

  Bedelia sighed and allowed her thoughts to wander, hoping for a distraction from the pain. Her mind meandered to their first mission, a long way off from their current location. She wished she’d told Finn about Àed’s location sooner. It would be a long journey back to the island where the Archtree once stood.

  Finn stroked the flat-handled brush gently down the side of Loinnir’s white neck, readying her for the long journey ahead. She hoped the unicorn would not mind carrying her all the way to find Àed.

  The unicorn’s horn had remained magically hidden since they reached civilization, long enough now that she sometimes questioned if she’d truly seen it at all.

  Loinnir turned her neck to eye Finn with one sparkling blue orb, as if to say, How dare you question my existence?

  She smiled encouragingly at the unicorn, then continued brushing.

  The stable gate opened and shut behind her, drawing her attention. She turned to find Iseult approaching. He’d dressed in fresh clothing in his customary black, blending in with his shoulder-length black hair, flecked with white at his temples. To her, his eyes were almost as mesmerizing as Loinnir’s, though instead of sparkling blue, they were a calm gray-green, like the eyes of a hunting cat. Th
ough his brother, Maarav, had similar eyes, she only found them interesting on Iseult.

  He approached her side, then ran his fingers down Loinnir’s mane. “You know,” he began, “Anna seems to believe your horse is actually a unicorn.”

  She gasped, then turned her face to hide her furious blush. Anna could see things that others could not. Had she been able to see Loinnir’s horn despite the magic keeping it hidden?

  Iseult chuckled at her reaction. He rarely laughed in front of others, really, he rarely even spoke in front of others, but when he was alone with Finn, it was as if he could finally relax.

  “It seems to me the Aos Sí knew what they were doing when they gave her to you,” he continued. “You make a good pair.”

  She smiled bashfully, resuming her brushing. “I apologize for not telling you the truth,” she glanced around to make sure they were alone, then added in a whisper, “about her being a unicorn, I mean. It just seemed the sort of thing I should keep secret.”

  “I understand,” he replied. “It’s not as if I haven’t hidden things from you in the past.”

  His tone drew her eye, but his face was, as always, unreadable. She considered reaching out to touch him, but hesitated, unsure if her touch would be welcome. Ever since he’d refused to let her return his soul, the topic had become a sore spot between them.

  She had the Faie Queen’s shroud now, the thing they had been questing for all along so she could undo the curse she, as Finnur, had placed upon Iseult’s people so long ago. Now he wouldn’t let her right the wrong, fearing it might weaken him, and he wanted to be able to protect her. She knew he was avoiding the subject for her own benefit, but it still hurt to have that tension between them.

  Although, she could not blame him for avoiding the subject, as she too had been unable to speak of her lost daughter now that her memories of the tragic death had returned. The loss felt like it had happened in a dream, or another far distant life. She feared that if she discussed it openly, it would become real once more, and she’d have to feel that pain all over again. She was already haunted by enough ghosts of the past. If she let this one in, it might break her.

  “What are you thinking?” Iseult asked, shattering the silence.

  She took a deep breath. “About Àed,” she lied. “I hope we can find him.”

  He nodded, running his hand gently down Loinnir’s neck. “It will be a long journey. One we can ill afford in these trying times.”

  “I know,” she muttered, turning her gaze down to the brush clutched in her hands.

  He was right. According to Sláine, Maarav’s adoptive mother, she was part of an ancient prophecy. The lives of humans and Faie alike depended on her being the last of the three queens to survive. To risk everything to save the single life of an old conjurer was surely folly . . . but she was going to do it anyway. Àed was her friend. He’d taken her in when she had no clothes, no food, and no memories. She owed him her life.

  Iseult gently laid his hand on her shoulder. “I’ll stand with you, no matter which path you choose.”

  She removed one hand from the brush to place over his, appreciating his presence, even though it was a constant reminder of what she’d done to his people.

  He gave her shoulder a squeeze, then moved to tend his own horse, a dappled tan mare. He’d lost his warhorse when they’d been taken captive by the Aos Sí, but never once mentioned the loss afterward. It would have bothered Finn, but if it bothered Iseult, it did not show.

  Stepping away from Loinnir, she dusted the fine white hairs from her charcoal gray breeches, then turned to watch Iseult sorting through the saddles draped on wooden bars against the stable wall near his tethered mount.

  Leaving his horse for a moment, he approached with a saddle for her in hand, then looked a question at Finn. “Are you sure she’s . . . what Anna thinks she is?”

  Finn nodded, glad he hadn’t said unicorn out loud. There was no telling what some of the townsfolk might do to get their hands on a creature that was supposedly no longer in existence.

  “Then should we perhaps not saddle her?” He gestured toward her with the heavy saddle held effortlessly in his grip.

  Suddenly grasping his hesitation, her eyes widened. She glanced at Loinnir. Did being saddled like a common horse offend her? The unicorn had allowed the Aos Sí to saddle her. Perhaps she would not mind . . .

  Reaching her conclusion, she nodded. A saddle was more comfortable than riding bareback, and she’d need a place to affix her supplies atop Loinnir’s back.

  Taking her at her word, Iseult approached the unicorn and gently laid the cushioned saddle on her back. Loinnir did not protest, except to swing her neck far enough to eye Iseult as he affixed the straps beneath her belly.

  Finn jumped as the stable door swung open and shut again, settling as Ealasaid approached her. Her curly blonde hair was damp from her bath, dripping rivulets of water down the shoulders of her gray corseted dress.

  “I wish we were coming with you,” she groaned, reaching her side. “I want to help rescue Àed too.”

  “An Solas needs you,” Finn comforted, though she also wished Ealasaid was coming. “You cannot leave them now.”

  Ealasaid sighed. “But I never wanted to be their leader. I’ve never led anyone in my life. I’m a farmer’s daughter, not some sort of princess.”

  Finn smiled at her, truly wishing Ealasaid could accompany them. “You know, I feel the same way.”

  Ealasaid turned her gray eyes up to her and cringed. “Sorry, I forgot that you’re supposed to be a queen. You have it much worse.”

  Finished saddling Loinnir, Iseult breezed past them and muttered, “Keep your voices down.”

  Ealasaid paled at the warning, turning apologetic eyes to Finn.

  Finn leaned in close to her shoulder. “Do you still want to come with us?”

  She turned to watch Iseult’s back as he left the stables, then moved her gaze back to Finn. “Now that you mention it, perhaps I am better off remaining here in Garenoch. At least Maarav never looks at me like he might want to run a sword through my belly.”

  Finn laughed, turning to leave the stable. “Iseult would never do that to you.”

  Ealasaid followed at her side. “No, he would never do that to you. The rest of us mean about as much to him as a meat pie.”

  Finn simply smiled in reply. She knew Iseult cared more than he let on. Well, at least she thought she knew. Truth be told, she never really knew what the man was thinking. Perhaps they were all just meat pies to him . . . but, she doubted it.

  Kai leaned back in his chair, trying to ignore Sativola as he groaned about his aching head, drawing the eyes of those attempting to have breakfast in the common room.

  “You knew we were departing today,” he commented. “It was your choice to have so much whiskey.”

  Sativola groaned again, pushing his sweaty, golden curly locks back from his scarred face. “Having that much whiskey is never a choice. At a certain point, the whiskey gods just take over and have their way with you, whether you like it or not.”

  Kai smirked and shook his head, glancing around the common room for signs of their other companions. He was just about to get up and check on Finn in the stables, when she and Ealasaid walked through the inn’s front double doors.

  He waved them over, feeling a mixture of emotions as Finn spotted him and motioned for Ealasaid to approach. Finn was looking overly thin, almost sick. He’d tried to speak to her about her troubles on many occasions, but she always changed the subject back to him. He’d given up on trying.

  “I’m going to look for Maarav,” Ealasaid chimed as they reached the table. “Don’t you dare leave without saying goodbye.” She eyed Finn sternly, then Kai before turning away.

  She crossed the inn and marched up the stairs to find Maarav, who was likely still in bed since he’d been the one to inspire the whiskey gods’ takeover the previous night.

  Finn took a seat across from Kai and peered into his eyes. �
�How are you feeling?” she asked pointedly.

  He forced a smile, flexing his scarred palm beneath the table. Even though he was more worried about how Finn was feeling, he could admit, if only to himself, that he’d been feeling . . . odd, to say the least. Ever since Finn gave away a bit of her immortal blood to save him, he hadn’t quite felt like himself. It wasn’t necessarily a bad feeling, just different.

  “I’m fine,” he replied with a roll of his eyes. “Really, you have much more important things to worry about than my . . . condition.” If she could brush off speaking of her troubles, he could do the same, he thought.

  “Perhaps,” she sighed, pawing nervously at her long, dirty blonde hair, “but I’m the one that did this to you. If you experience any more latent effects, I’d like you to let me know.”

  He nodded in agreement, though he had no intention of telling her next time something strange happened. It was only a small thing to begin with. He’d been out in the market procuring supplies for their journey, when the scar on his palm sent an odd tingle through his arm and down his spine. The feeling continued until he nearly fainted. Sativola had dragged him back to the inn, where he quickly recovered. That had been three days prior, and he’d had no odd experiences since.

  He was saved from further questioning as Bedelia and Anna descended the stairs. He could see fresh bandages peeking out from the collar of Bedelia’s burgundy tunic, and Anna was smiling, so he assumed Bedelia had finally allowed her wound to be thoroughly tended.

  Silent until then, Sativola staggered up from his seat. “I’m going to see to me horse,” he muttered, “before I have to hear from all these women a second time about making them late.”