she’d help them regain their former glory.
“Let your warriors see you at your fiercest, to inspire
them,” Cornelius proposed. “However, you must direct the party from behind and
let them take the brunt of the dwarf’s machinations.”
Thaddeus had pointed out to Adele, more than once, that as
Queen she had different responsibilities than before, when she’d merely been
the leader of their ragtag army, marching across the untamed wilderness of the
new continent. Adele had to compromise as well as lead, listen to her advisors
and take their advice when it was sound.
“He still dies by my hand,” Adele said, nodding to the
inevitable. Her people had grown used to this softer life and a continuous
rule. She would make concessions.
Imogene made a face as if she smelled something bad. “Your
presence will just make them foolhardy, not courageous.”
“Some people easily confuse the two,” Adele told her, giving
her a polite smile but still showing her pointed teeth. Imogene and her husband
Gideon would have their Queen be a spectator only, mistakenly thinking that
ordering people to do things gave you more power, instead of doing everything
yourself.
Adele would prove them wrong.
***
When the first explosion rocked the tunnel where Adele waited,
Cornelius murmured to her, “See? Aren’t you glad you stayed back?”
“Yes, all right, you were right,” Adele said crossly. She
was glad that she’d defiantly stayed dressed as a warrior, ignoring the rest of
her court still in their mourning frocks. Dirt sifted down on them and she shook
her head. The dwarf’s tunnels were inferior to theirs, crudely carved and
shored up with mere lumber. Compacted dirt made up the floor, not matched
stones, and the rough walls weren’t straight enough for any god to follow.
A runner came back to the court, his wings singed and his
cape blackened. “Bascom set off the bomb without injury, Ma’am. We’re
approaching the second cavern now.” Then he flew back. Adele glared at
Cornelius, Imogene and the others. It would have been fine if she’d been there.
After a fourth explosion, the runner came back for Adele. “We’ve
reached the inner tunnels. The dwarf is gone.”
Adele gnashed her teeth and didn’t contain her growl. It
figured. Nothing had gone right since Thaddeus died.
“Bascom did find something interesting, my Lady,” he said,
looking down.
Grimly, Adele strode forward. What perversion had the
warriors found? They should have taken care of the dwarf long ago. She wrapped
the ends of her cloak over her arm as they entered to keep it from catching on
the rubbish that littered the floor. Even humans lived more cleanly than this dwarf. Imogene gagged behind her. Adele refused to
be quelled by the stench. Instead, she gritted her teeth and pushed into the
next room, past the rubble from the first explosions.
Two machines sat on the floor in the next room. Adele
recognized them as tests Thaddeus had created for his apprentices. The dwarf
had added an obscenity to one: on top of the smooth curved lines of the
original piece sat two black needles at the end of crude pistons.
“My goodness, what has he done?” Cornelius asked, stepping
forward.
Adele immediately understood their purpose—to strike
the hand of anyone who reached down for the machine. She sniffed the air,
scenting for what she thought she would find. There it was. Blood of a human.
No magic. But something.
Cornelius ran his finger along one of the needles, then
stuck it into his mouth. Wonder passed over his face. “Tinker,” he said softly.
“Bascom!” Adele yelled.
The warrior strode forward. A brilliant ruby shone from one
eye. Soot and sweat smeared his red war paint. He glowed with fairy power,
lighting up the room. Muscles rippled across his wide chest, almost making up
for his small wings.
“Find the human Tinker,” Adele told him. “Bring him to me.”
“It shouldn’t take long, my Queen,” Bascom said, bowing
Misty Wright, Summer Sauteur