The Invasion of the Tearling

Kelsea pointed to the portrait. This picture is very old. Are you a ghost?

He surveyed the portrait, a humorless smile crossing his face. You might think of me as a ghost, but I am flesh. See for yourself.

He placed a hand on Kelsea’s chest, just above her breasts. Her shoulders hitched involuntarily, but he didn’t seem to notice, giving her a searching look. You are stronger, Tear heir. What has happened to you?

I want to bargain.

What, no time for pleasantries? He smiled, and Kelsea was alarmed by her own response to that smile. Pleasure makes life bearable, you know.

Kelsea shut her eyes, focusing, then hissed as a new slice opened on her forearm. It was a deep one, and painful, but it steadied her, calming her pulse, the ache in her breasts. You said you knew how to defeat the Queen of Mortmesne.

So I do. She is not invulnerable, though she would like to be.

How can she be beaten?

What do you offer in return, Tear heir? Yourself?

You don’t want me. You want your freedom.

I want many things.

What can a creature like you possibly want in the physical world?

I still take joy in physical things. I must sustain myself.

Sustain yourself on what?

He grinned, though a flare of red sparked in his eyes. You are quick, Tear heir. You ask the right questions.

What do you want? Be explicit.

Shall we draw up a bargain, like the treaty that wrecked your mother?

Did you appear to my mother this way as well?

Your mother was beneath my notice.

He meant this as a compliment to Kelsea, she could tell, and it worked, creating a tiny, warm glow inside her. But she pressed on, knowing that she could not afford to be sidetracked. If we’re to bargain, I want the terms clearly defined.

Fine. You will set me free, and I will tell you of the Red Queen’s vulnerability. Have we a bargain?

Kelsea hesitated. Things were moving too quickly. The Mort were hampered by their siege equipment; by Hall’s estimates, Kelsea had at least a month before they reached the city. That was not long, but it was enough time to reflect, to make a good decision. And now a new worry struck Kelsea: even if she was somehow able to destroy the Red Queen, would that necessarily translate to defeating her army? Would it die with the head cut off, or would it simply grow a new one, hydra-like?

Too many unknowns here, Kelsea, Carlin whispered, and Kelsea knew she was right.

I will consider it, she told the man before her. He blinked, as though fatigued, and Kelsea realized that he looked less substantial, somehow…. Squinting, she saw that the fire behind him was clearly visible, flames flickering dimly through both his clothing and the area where his rib cage should have been. His face, too, had turned pale with fatigue.

Noticing the direction of Kelsea’s gaze, the man frowned. He closed his eyes for a moment, seeming to solidify right in front of her, becoming more opaque. When he opened his eyes, he was smiling again, a smile of such warm, calculating sensuality that Kelsea took a step back. Her arousal instantly darkened, became tinged with an edge of fright.

What are you?

His gaze darted behind Kelsea, over her left shoulder, and his face compacted into a snarl, lips drawing back from his white teeth. His eyes gleamed red, burning with a sudden, blazing hatred that made Kelsea stumble backward, her feet tangling in her dress. She braced herself to land on her tailbone with a hard thud, but before she could, someone caught her beneath the arms. When Kelsea looked up, the last of the fire had gone out and the man was gone, but arms remained around Kelsea from behind, and she struggled, kicking against the floor.

“Easy, Tear Queen,” a voice murmured in her ear, and Kelsea quieted.

“You. How did you get past Pen?”

“He’s unconscious.”

“Is he all right?”

“Of course. I put him out for a bit, only long enough for us to do some business.”

Business. Of course it would be business. “Let me go. I’ll light a candle.”

The Fetch released her, giving her a firm push up, and Kelsea shuffled her way to the bedside table. Her cheeks were still flushed, and she could feel the blood burning there. She took her time about lighting the candle, trying to get some control back, but as she fumbled around on the table for her matches, his voice echoed behind her.

“Two inches to your left.”

So he does see in the dark, Kelsea thought, irritated. When she finally lit the candle and turned to face him, she expected to see the man she remembered, all amused mouth and dancing eyes. But his face was grave in the candlelight.

“I knew he would come here, sooner or later. What did he ask for?”

“Nothing,” Kelsea replied. But she knew that the blush on her cheeks would give her away. She had never been able to lie well, and certainly not to the Fetch.

He stared at her for a long moment. “Let me give you some friendly advice, Tear Queen. I have known this creature for a very long time. Don’t give him anything. Don’t even converse with him. He will only lead you to grief.”