The Last Queen Book Five Page 11

  Is it a plan?

  No. It’s a wish.

  But that wish will grow.

  I will trust my instincts and my connection to nature, and I will never give up on either.

  Spencer turns and looks at me, and I open my eyes just in time.

  He tilts his head to the side. “What were you thinking of, my queen?” he asks again.

  Though my body wants to react to the way he’s saying my queen, I force it away. “What will the world be like in several hours?” I manage.

  His eyes widen. “Different,” he says, his voice vibrating as if his throat is a musical instrument. “Completely different.” He brings up his arms and spreads his hands wide.

  “Will the game continue?” I ask.

  “There will be no other kings.”

  “I understand that, but what will the world look like? The boards and pieces will remain, but with no other kings to fight—”

  “We will rule over all. That is what it will look like,” he says with confidence.

  And I see him once more. The child. The idiot. The man who always believed that all it would take to save himself was a belief that he would be fine.

  It has a completely dousing effect on my passion, and my body quickly forgets the vibrating purr of his voice whenever he calls me his queen.

  I keep my hands behind my back as I take a step forward. I tilt my head up and down, staring at the walls and ceiling and floor.

  This room is similar to the one where I abandoned John just after he came to save me from the castle. There’s a set of stairs to one side that leads up to a balcony. It’s not the same room, though. That room was destroyed when Spencer compressed it.

  This room is bigger, too. And it has… an unmistakable grand feel about it.

  I can’t tell you what Senator Rogers did here, but whatever he did, it must have been powerful. His most important spells were no doubt cast here. His most important players were no doubt turned here, too.

  That draws my memory back to Matrexia.

  She said that she was loyal to Senator Rogers because he reminded her of her king.

  She also said that her king lived hundreds of years ago. I wonder how long ago he lived? Wouldn’t that put him virtually at the beginning of the game?

  I wonder how many other complete queens are out there like Matrexia or if she’s the only one.

  With no one to ask, I focus on Spencer once more.

  I stop staring at the room and shift my attention to him. “How much longer until the ceremony begins?”

  I don’t need to explain which ceremony.

  His cheeks stiffen, and that sharp, deadly look grows in his eyes. The look of a man who would happily turn another into an abomination just to get what he wants.

  If there’s anything that can douse my passion for Spencer, it’s this. I try to hold onto the memory this time, try to drive it down into my body so that my limbs will not forget that he is a bastard. He kills people for power. And I will not fall for him.

  I don’t care if the game wants me to get together with him. Screw the game, and screw him.

  I find myself standing a little straighter as I think that.

  Spencer clamps his hands behind his shoulders and starts to walk around the room. It takes me several seconds to realize that in doing so, he’s circling around me.

  Though a fearful part of my mind tells me he’s circling around me like a shark, and that maybe he knows what I’m thinking, the rest of me holds my ground.

  “Soon. The objects are being brought from my storehouse.”

  “Objects?” I ask.

  “To complete the ritual,” he says, his voice becoming grating on the word complete.

  Though he’s being deliberately opaque, I have an imagination, and it runs wild.

  I understand that John will have to be killed before he’s turned into an eater, and I can appreciate that he can’t be killed in an ordinary way.

  I get hideous images of ghastly magical weapons in my mind.

  My back slicks with sweat, and fortunately no one can see it through my leather jacket.

  I’m sure Matrexia’s aware of it. But she still hasn’t made her move.

  She’s standing there quietly, and she’s back to looking like a robot.

  Michael’s another matter entirely. He’s still got his angry gaze set on me, and it’s like a scalpel trying to cut away my flesh to get to my weaknesses.

  “The rest of John’s pieces have been secured. Once the sacred objects arrive, you will know what to do,” he says with a smile.

  I tick my head to the side. “What do you mean?”

  “Matrexia will show you,” he points to her. “Trust in her like you did when you cast the warp spell. I’m confident you’ll be able to do it. You have a power I could never have imagined. A power,” he reaches his hand toward me, and thankfully he’s still several meters away and he can’t rest it on my shoulder, “that’s only become stronger now we’re together. You chose wisely,” he suddenly adds. “You opened up to your passion. And that is the smartest thing you could have done.”

  I slowly smile. If you were close enough, you’d be able to tell that it’s a purely mechanical move and that I have to concentrate as every single one of my lip muscles contracts and my cheeks pull high. “Indeed. But what now? Why are we in this room?”

  “Because it is time to map out the board,” he says. “Are you ready?” He reaches a hand toward me.

  I tick my head to the side. “What do you mean?”

  “To map this board, I need your help.”

  My stomach kicks.

  I can tell that both Matrexia and Michael are staring at me, waiting to figure out what I’ll do.

  What do I do?

  The only thing I can. I take several solid steps forward, hesitate for half a second, not that anyone will notice me, and finally reach my hand up and place it into his.

  Is his grip hot? Yes.

  Does it invite me in? Yes.

  Do I fall into it?

  No.

  I think of John.

  I know he’s somewhere in the building.

  I just hope I’ll be able to get to him in time.

  I just hope I’ll be able to destroy the board at the same time.

  Because I won’t let John die.

  … Or will I?

  If I have to pick between destroying the game or saving John’s life, what will I do?

  What should I do?

  That’s obvious. Few people ever have to be put in a purely utilitarian situation where they have to pick between saving the many or saving the few, but we all instinctively know what humanity demands of us in such a situation. If you have the choice between saving one family member or 10 other people, you save the 10 other people. If you don’t, you’ll never be able to live with yourself.

  And that’s the same now. Though I love John – and I can now freely admit that – at the same time, I can’t love him more than I love everyone else in reality.

  So the equation should be simple, right?

  From the way my heart thunders in my chest to the heavy, dense pressure pressing over my shoulders, I can tell you one thing – it’s not easy.

  It’s the greatest weight I will ever have to bear.

  As my wrist sits in Spencer’s grip, he slowly curls his fingers around mine until his rough thumb and forefinger sink into my knuckles.

  It’s then that I can feel they’re hot. But they don’t just have any normal heat. It’s not the warmth of his blood; it’s his magic. It pulses over his arm, spreads down into his hand, and settles over mine. It feels as if I’m being held by a concentrated spark of lightning.

  Do I jerk my hand away?

  No.

  Do I settle all of my attention into my hope?

  Yes.

  “I need you to concentrate. I need you to lend me your power. I need you to tear down the walls in your mind and give me access,” he adds.

  I stiffen. Internally. Bo
y do I stiffen. It’s like I try to strangle my own body as I appreciate his horrible request.

  He wants access to my mind?

  To my magic?

  I….

  “It is necessary. In order to map the ancient site onto this one, I require your magic,” he says once more, his voice grating.

  If I give him access to my mind and magic, he’ll know.

  Though I don’t entirely understand what his request entails, fear pulses through me as I realize I simply can’t do it.

  Spencer grips my hand tighter. “It’s okay. You know how to give me access to your magic, don’t you? Simply allow it to spread through your hand. I will do the rest,” he says. “And our connection will help me,” he adds in a gravelly tone.

  Seconds pass by. I do nothing.

  Spencer turns his head to look at me. “Is there a problem?

  I can hear as Michael shifts. I’m so aware of the creak of his joints as he takes a step toward me, it’s like his body is an ax held over my head.

  “I—” I begin.

  “This is unwise,” Matrexia interrupts.

  Spencer is so surprised by her unsolicited comment, he jerks his hand out of mine as he turns to face her. “What?”

  I turn to face Matrexia, too.

  Maybe an idiot would think that she’s not showing emotion right now, but she is. Though her face ostensibly has no expression and her features are locked in a neutral position, her emotion is in her eyes. And it’s breaking.

  Is she going to do it?

  Is she going to tell him that I’m a traitor?

  Or is she going to keep my secret until the end for her own purpose?

  I get my answer as she shifts forward once more. Though she retains that ostensibly blank expression, I can see the tension in her arms. I can also pick up the fact that it’s affecting her magic slightly. Though it’s still rushing over her form in a glowing wave of power, at the same time, it’s more bunched and more erratic than usual.

  I doubt Spencer and Michael can pick it up. They seem to be too surprised by the fact that she spoke out of turn.

  Spencer eventually grabs hold of his surprise, straightens up, and frowns. “What are you warning me of, shadow?”

  “That you will need to retain her power for the actual ceremony. “Use mine, instead,” she says. Without hesitating, she reaches her hand out to him.

  Spencer still looks surprised. Then he looks calculating as he switches his gaze between us.

  It can’t last. His greed is too great, and you know he simply wants to get this done so he can finally rule the world and all that crap.

  … Did Matrexia just save me?

  Though I’ve been telling myself that I have no idea whether she’s on my side or her own side, now I finally get my proof as she tightens her clasp around Spencer.

  She stares right at him, and more magic blasts over her form.

  Though technically Spencer used my magic in order to bring Matrexia into existence, I didn’t create her using my force. I think I only opened the door to wherever Spencer holds his pieces.

  And there’s one thing I can appreciate as her magic absolutely glows over her body, spreads down her hand, and exits into Spencer’s palm. Once upon a time, she must’ve been the most powerful queen there ever was.

  Maybe… maybe I could take her because I’m alive, but if she was alive too? I’d be screwed.

  I’ve been so caught up by the tragedy of my own life history that I’ve failed to appreciate how many other queens have gone through this before me.

  I still have no idea if there were any queens in modern times, but there must’ve been. And they too must have battled with the same damn war that’s been going on in my head since the day I found out I had magic. Use it or run from it? Trust or hide?

  Fight or give up?

  As Matrexia allows her magic to seep into Spencer, the room shakes and shifts, and I appreciate that she is giving me one more chance to figure out if I will fight or surrender.

  Though the room shakes, and rock dust filters down from the ceiling, it doesn’t suddenly cave in. That being said, everything starts to change.

  Magic washes through the air, crackling as if it’s a tidal wave rushing in to drown us all.

  It sets my teeth chattering in my skull, and the hair along the back of my neck doesn’t just stand up; it feels like it’s about to be plucked out.

  I’m gratified by the fact that Spencer has to clench his teeth as more and more power washes from Matrexia into him. He really has to plant his feet, too, and soon enough, I pick up the faint smell of softly burning rubber, and I appreciate that the heat of her magic is practically burning his shoes.

  Still, the bastard somehow finds the strength to hold on, and within another few seconds, I feel space being warped.

  There are that crackle and hum that accompany the move, and though my hair was standing on end before, now it feels as if each single strand has been turned into a pole and they will never move freely again.

  Nerves race up and down my back, and boy are they biting. They feel like electrical charges discharging down into my skin and crackling through my sweat.

  With a simple, graceful move of her hand, Matrexia extends it, and in her palm, the heavy board we found down in the tunnels appears.

  Though I’m a powerful queen, if that board were to appear in my hand, I’d have to shore up my stance in order to hold it.

  Matrexia looks as if she could take the entire weight of the world in her palm, and it would make no difference.

  She stares right at Spencer. “You know what to do next?”

  “Of course I know what to do next,” he says.

  I can still tell that he’s surprised by the fact that Matrexia is taking charge.

  It makes me wonder if he has been questioning the same thing I have. Though now I know that she is technically no ordinary shadow – and instead is a complete shadow – I’d still wager my life on the fact that Spencer has underestimated her powers. He’s always been a blind man, but the closer he comes to victory, the blinder he becomes.

  “Then do it,” she commands simply.

  Though I can tell that Spencer’s first inclination is to snap back at her that she is a shadow, at the same time, I can tell that he’s cowed by the amount of power she’s pushing into his body.

  He also has to concentrate, too, because I can feel how unstable this room is getting. With more and more power rushing into it – and without that power having a direct purpose – it’s building like the winds of chaos.

  I’m way beyond feeling my hair and cheeks and spine anymore. My entire body is vibrating as if I’ve been transferred onto some kind of electro pad and as if, at any instant, I’ll be fried to a crisp.

  Michael isn’t holding up that much better. He is, however, never letting his gaze slip off me. It is more than direct. Though technically his head is directed at Spencer, I can see from the keen tension in the left side of his neck, his real focus is on me.

  Matrexia might technically be on my side, but it’s damn clear that Michael never will be.

  I start to wonder when he’ll finally act. Because as he gazes my way once, the move twitching and sharp, I appreciate it won’t be long until he finally snaps.

  “Concentrate,” Matrexia says, her tone direct. “You must attune to my magic in order to lay this board onto the site. If you allow indecision or weakness,” her voice is sharp on the word weakness, “to filter into your heart, they will filter into the board, and the process will end.”

  Spencer doesn’t bother to snap at her again. He clenches his teeth, tips his head back, and closes his eyes. He squeezes his eyes with so much tension, I swear he’s going to drive his eyeballs through the back of his skull.

  I’m not that lucky, though.

  Nor am I lucky enough that Spencer loses concentration and the spell ends.

  Just as the chaotic energies in the room gather to such a point that I swear they’re going to tear thro
ugh everything, I hear something click. It’s deep and resounding, and it powers through my stomach, shaking up my back until I am forced to clench my teeth hard.

  And that thing that clicks is reality. It’s as if God has just snapped its fingers, and as I open my eyes, I see the board spin out of Matrexia’s grip. It expands, instantly taking up the full space of the room. As it does so, it becomes insubstantial, pushing through everybody.

  Even though I know it becomes insubstantial, as it pushes through me, I still gasp and step back. I feel it spread around me, somehow covering me and shifting through me without altering me or crushing me in any way.

  It is power. Pure and simple.

  Though I’ve already encountered that same unadulterated power when I cast the first warp spell, this time I really focus my attention on it.

  I grind my eyes closed just in time to see that path in my mind.

  The path I’ve come to call the rules. And as I see it once more, I appreciate I’m right.

  It draws me forward, and it feels like shackles around my magic. Or maybe syringes in my veins, ones that eagerly drink up my blood and power.

  Though all I want to do is keep my attention locked on that path in order to understand more of its secrets in the hope it will help me destroy it, I’m not given the time.

  The room shakes as something slams down into it.

  I open my eyes and stagger to the side just as the game board joins with the floor. Though it was insubstantial moments before, now it becomes real. It pushes against my feet as it melds with the floor, and I’m thrown off balance. I fall down onto my knees, buffering the blow as I lock my hands by my side. I roll and push up just as the game board settles.

  The checkered white and black squares that mark every single board are now painted over the once drab sandstone.

  Matrexia withdraws her hand from Spencer and takes a step away.

  Spencer staggers, falls to his knee, plants a hand on his chest, and gasps as if he’s just been strangled.

  “Sir,” Michael spits as he rushes over, skids over to his boss, and clamps a supporting hand on his shoulder.

  He swivels his gaze over to Matrexia.

  Is there suspicion there? Or just awe?