The Magic Queen (Dark Queens Book 4) Read online

  Table of Contents

  The Magic Queen

  The Magic Queen

  Dedication

  Forward

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Epilogue

  Author’s Notes

  About Jovee Winters

  Want more Kingdom?

  Marie Hall Books | Kingdom Series (Fairy Tale Romance)

  The Magic Queen

  Copyright 2016 Jovee Winters

  Cover Art by Nathalia Sullen

  Formatted by D2D

  My super seekrit hangout!

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, places, and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons living or dead, events, or places is purely coincidental. Though if you should spot a cute fairy or a lecherous imp, say hi for me.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning, or otherwise, without the written permission of the publisher, Jovee Winters, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in the context of reviews.

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only.

  Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Jovee Winters.

  Unauthorized or restricted use in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.

  The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patent Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.

  Published in 2016 by Jovee Winters, United States of America

  The Magic Queen

  Baba Yaga is probably the darkest of all the queens. An unrepentant bad girl, she has no time for men, or something as pedestrian as love. Too bad Calypso and Aphrodite never got that memo. They've decided to make the witch their pet project. Baba's choice is simple, fall in love with the male they found her, or die.

  She'd laugh, except for the little fact that they're totally serious. But Baba has never been a quitter, she'll go to that male, she'll even willingly go through the goddesses ridiculous "games," what she won't do is fall in love.

  At least, those were her plans until she stared into the ice blue eyes of a Viking god and realized her life would never be the same again...

  Dedication

  To Rayale. Because without you I never would have thought to look to the stars. Also, because you are now, and will always be, my piper...

  Forward

  Many tales have been told of the witch who lives in a hut that walks upon its chicken legs. Portrayed as a terrifying old crone with her iron teeth and her propensity to eat children...Baba Yaga is a fearsome woman, never to be crossed.

  The only friends she boasts are severed arms that do her bidding and her ever-faithful white, red, and black horsemen.

  And unlike most queens in these stories, Baba Yaga’s legend is mostly justified, though as we already know, there are always many sides to a story.

  If I may interject a personal thought on the matter, Baba is my very least favorite of the queens, and soon, you shall see why. I only write her tale because in this, I am forced. But I vow that every sentence within is true.

  And now this story begins as most good stories do. Once upon a time...

  ~Anon, written by one of the 13 Keepers of the Tales

  Prologue

  Aphrodite and Calypso

  Stepping outside the veil that separated Olympus from Kingdom, the two goddesses—one of Love and one of Water—smiled at one another.

  After years, eons really, of setting the pieces into play for their love games and reaching between the very stars to find just the perfect mates, they were down to the final player on their board.

  Aphrodite had wanted to limit the couples to only five. But Caly had felt deeply that there was beauty, symmetry, and favor in even numbers, so they’d rolled the die and landed on Baba Yaga’s name. Finding a mate for a witch like her would be next to impossible for anyone. Baba was crass, willful, and just plain evil when the mood struck her.

  She’d need an opposite in just about every way.

  Thankfully, they’d landed on one years ago, during the Passionate Queen’s search for her own mate: a man with feathers and the temperament of a saint—Icharus of Madrigar.

  With his blond hair, pale blue eyes, square jaw, and smattering of freckles, he was exactly Baba’s type. Caly had been shocked to learn the old crone even had a type. Up until now, she’d have assumed that, so long as the meat was succulent and the flesh firm, Baba wouldn’t have been all that picky.

  But Dite knew a thing or twenty about love and had assured Caly that Ich was exactly to the witch’s fancy.

  “Shall we then?” Dite asked with a sparkle in her azure eyes, gesturing with her arm for Calypso to precede her and do the honors.

  Gathering the men had been a simple enough task. They’d simply gone up to their homes, knocked on the doors, elucidated why men were needed for the games, and except for two, they’d all been kidnapped and forced to join in the revelry.

  Men were such idiots. Really. Why fight fate? Caly always said. One would think the promise of true soul mates would be enough to get them to fervently agree to come along for the ride.

  Nodding her thanks, Caly swept past, practically gliding up the wooden steps of Ich’s modest one-room cabin, and knocked on the door. The two women squealed in excitement when they heard heavy footfalls inside.

  Rubbing her hands together, Calypso had the speech on the tip of her tongue when the door was flung open, and out popped a kidlet.

  Startled by the sight of the towheaded child, Caly took a hesitant step back, wondering if, perhaps, she’d gotten the wrong address. Something about the boy felt eerily familiar. Pretty blue eyes. Dusting of freckles on his nose. She peeked over his shoulder, noting a fine pair of bronze wings tucked down.

  Hm. This could be bad. Aphrodite must have thought the same thing because she shook her head slowly.

  “Umm.” Caly blinked, casting Dite a nervous glance. “Does a male by the name of Ichar—”

  “Dad!”

  The boy’s shrill scream caused Caly to break out in a wash of goosebumps.

  Dad? Both women mouthed the word at once, exchanging horrified looks. How had they not known this? What had they missed?

  Seconds later, the tall, commanding, and very sexy Icharus of Madrigar stood at the door, beaming at them. There was a fine dusting of silver at his temples, but otherwise, he’d aged not at all.

  “Goddesses,” he said happily, “to what do I owe this honor?” He clapped his hands to his son’s shoulders.

  At a loss for how to answer, Caly shook her head. Dite stepped up, gently pushing Calypso out of the way as she beamed with all her godly power at the two males whose eyes instantly softened and grew besotted. Easy to do when the Goddess of Love turned up the wattage.

  “Sorry to bother you, Icharus, but we were in the neighborhood and came to say good morrow.” Dite never faltered in her delivery of the lie.

  He smiled, but Caly read the curiosity in his eyes. “Hello. Are you thirsty? Hungry? I’m sure I could get Zepharia to scrounge something up.”

  “Zepharia?” Calypso asked with a tongue that felt suddenly numb. “Is she your sister?”

  Aphrodite
tossed her a dirty look because clearly Zepharia was not his sister, but Caly hoped against hope.

  Unfortuantely that hope was dashed to razor-sharp slivers when the boy puffed out his chest and said, “Zepharia is my mother. Why are you here?”

  He thrust out his jaw defiantly as if deep down suspecting the true reason for their coming. Icharus lifted his brow, clearly waiting on them to answer.

  Once again, Aphrodite saved the day. Rolling her wrist, she laughed merrily and shrugged. “Just stopping by. Well, I guess we’ll be seeing you two around then.”

  Icharus looked confused and the boy angry—though why, Calypso couldn’t figure out. She decided she didn’t like the little runt all that much and leaned in. “Any chance Zepharia is dead? Or almost dead? Dying? Lame?”

  The boy gasped, and Icharus frowned deeply. “What?” he boomed.

  Aphrodite laughed, yanking on Caly’s elbow. “Just a game she plays. Pay her no mind. Farewell, birds.”

  The door slammed very forcefully behind them as Dite dragged Caly down the steps.

  “Have you lost your mind, Calypso? Is she dead? Gah!” She rolled her eyes to the heavens and rubbed at her temple. “What are we to do now?”

  Calypso tossed up her hands. “Well, how should I know? These games won’t work unless we have six couples.”

  Dite gave her the evil eye. “I know.” Unspoken went the fact that Dite had only wanted there to be five couples to begin with.

  Calypso just shrugged because she was irritated herself. “How the hell did this happen, Dite? You were supposed to keep tabs on the males to ensure they didn’t do anything as stupid as go off and get themselves hitched!” Dite stomped her foot and squeezed her fists.

  Aphrodite glowered right back at her. It wasn’t often the Goddess of Love looked so put out.

  The wind, which had been a gentle spring gust mere moments before, whipped around them. The blue skies turned gray with black clouds rolling in from the horizon. The goddesses were in a mood.

  “I was busy!” Aphrodite snapped. “Creating worlds. As you well know. You were the one who was supposed to watch the males.”

  Caly gasped and crossed her hands on her chest. “How dare you! I should drown you for such an assertion.”

  “Do it, and I’ll feed you to Hephaestus. My imp hasn’t been fed in days. I think he’d find you rather tasty, fish breath.”

  Calypso narrowed her eyes to razor-thin slits.

  Their noses practically touched. Great, fat droplets of rain poured down around them, soaking the ground. But annoyed as they both were, this was nothing more than a sisterly spat. Caly would never harm Dite, nor would Love ever bring any harm to her truest friend.

  There was a very real problem though, and they both knew it. If they couldn’t find a suitable replacement in less than twenty-four hours, everything they’d worked toward for the last millennium would be ruined.

  Calypso’s shoulders slumped, and immediately, the rain ceased. “Dite, what are we going to do? There isn’t anyone else in Kingdom suitable for that witch’s sharp personality.”

  “Well, you’re the one who wanted her in this game,” Dite was quick to point out, but there was a teasing lilt to her words that prevented Calypso from firing a watery spear down Love’s throat.

  “Hm.” Calypso sniffed and crossed her arms, choosing to ignore the jab. “Fix this, woman.”

  Blowing out a raspberry, Aphrodite squeezed her eyes shut. And Calypso knew her dearest friend was wracking her brain for someone, anyone. In all the worlds, there was only one true soul mate.

  But the truth was, neither Dite nor Caly had really felt that Ich would have been Baba’s truest mate. More likely, Ich would have been the only male in all the cosmos who could handle such a witch.

  Things could have gone one of two ways when Baba met him. She’d either have decided to simply sex him up and toss him out, or more than likely, she’d have eaten him when he got to be too much to handle. For Baba, that meant if he sneezed wrong, she’d decide he wasn’t worth the effort.

  In reality, Caly and Dite had included Baba Yaga in these games for one reason: her powers. The games wouldn’t be quite as much fun without the witch in it. But wanting Baba for her magick didn’t mean they had any intention of not letting her secure her own happily ever after.

  Aphrodite knocked a fist against her forehead. A second later, her eyes snapped open, and she laughed melodiously. “Oh, gods. I think I have it. He’ll hate me for sure, but then, he already does.”

  Calypso laughed with astonishment. “A male who hates you? Now this I have to see. And why, by the way? Why would he hate you? I find that hard to believe.”

  She swept a hand down Aphrodite’s diamond-encrusted gown that covered a body so perfectly made even Caly felt the sting of envy at times.

  Aphrodite planted her hands on her hips and grinned. “Let’s just say, he thinks he’s prettier than me. The male suffers with an ego the size of the cosmos.”

  Calypso giggled. “Who exactly are we talking about here? The last thing we need is to send in some brash, aggressive idiot into the ring with Baba at his side. She’ll eat him up before the games are even through.”

  “Oh, no.” Aphrodite flicked her fingers and opened a rift in time between dimensions. “It will be impossible to hate this one, though I can’t guarantee he’ll be happy to come along either. He’s been known to be a tad...let’s call it impossible.”

  Caly shook her head as giant threads of misgiving wormed their way through her belly. But it wasn’t like they had many choices left. “Well, take me to him. Poor fellow.”

  Dite, who was just about to step through the shimmering silver veil, glanced over her shoulder and grinned. “Don’t feel bad for him, Caly. If anything, you should feel bad for Baba. This male might be her undoing.”

  “Wait. Wait. Wait.” Calypso grabbed Aphrodite by the elbow, halting her forward progress. “Before we continue, I need to make sure you’re on board with how we’re going to play this thing.”

  Aphrodite smiled sharply. “Good cop. Bad cop. Got it. You do know the women are going to think you rather savage by the end of this thing, Caly. I could play the bad guy in this game if you’d like. It’s near impossible for anyone to hate me. But you...they might just want to stick a magicked dirk in your side when it’s all said and done.”

  Calypso had thought of that, but the truth was, she hardly cared whether she was liked or not. The ones she loved, loved her back, and that was all that mattered. It was a point of honor and pride to Caly that these women get their happily ever afters.

  Villains weren’t supposed to be happy. It was the way the stories were written, stories Caly had never hated more than now. She and Aphrodite had handpicked the worst of the worst in literature and tales, and with Baba Yaga especially, she knew that to get a woman that prickly and cranky to actually fall in love, Caly was going to have to make herself look like a cold-hearted bitch of a goddess. She smirked, thinking of what Hades would say when he learned of her plan. He always loved it when her claws came out.

  Caly nodded. “I can do it. I’ll be saying and doing some things that will, no doubt, raise your eyebrows. All I need to know is that you’ll be on board with me in this and that Themis can’t know everything. There will be times I’ll need to go rogue and move against Justice’s edicts. Promise me now you’ll have my back, Love.”

  “I will always have your back, my friend. On that, you can always count. Now, let’s go find these dark queens their mates, shall we?” Stepping forward, Aphrodite sealed her vow with a light kiss pressed to Caly’s lips.

  Calypso nodded because for all her talk of not caring what others might think of her, she did actually care.

  She just hoped no one hated her too much when it was all done.

  Chapter 1

  Baba Yaga

  There wasn’t much time left, but there was still so much to be done. Baba hummed under her breath, a lilting little tune as haunting as it was catc
hy. Her audience of one was held rapt. She felt his stare all over her face, the questions in his head... They rubbed against her flesh like the softest fingers.

  What now?

  Is this it?

  But I could still be of some service to you...

  She snorted, dropping the wart of a dead man’s toe into her cauldron, which glowed with green phosphorescence. Balthazar’s deadly tongue flicked out scant inches from her neck. One swipe of that ruby red tongue to any bit of flesh would not only begin to necrotize the skin, but it could stop a heart cold—instant death in a land where death was far from commonplace.

  “Oh, can you really?” The whisper of her words was like the rattling of dry bones. Reaching out gnarled fingers with black-tipped nails, she plucked an eye of newt from its vial and dropped it into the brew.

  It hissed and burbled. The magick within rose high like a spire as it sought to escape from her chicken-footed home. The house, sensitive to any spell-casting she used, let out a shrill, blood-curdling scream that never ceased to make her break out in a wash of delighted goose flesh. Her prisoner shuddered. It seemed no one else quite enjoyed her pretty little hut quite like she did. Oh, well...

  “And tell me, Goblin,” she hissed, “just how can you help me?”

  He grunted, shaking the bars of his iron cage futilely as his eyes widened in panic.

  “Oh, that’s right,” she said almost sweetly. “You can’t. I cut out your tongue.”

  Cackling—and just because she could—she grabbed up her latest acquisition: tongue of goblin, terribly hard to come by these days, as those nasty goblins rather hated parting with their selves. Go figure. Well, the beast had had it coming, after all. There wasn’t much in this life that she hated more than a man full of hubris. The Under Goblin’s prideful arrogance and misogyny landed him in his current predicament. Let it never be said that she hadn’t warned him first. Baba always dealt fairly with her supplicants, though she doubted any of them would ever see it that way.

  She glanced up, staring into the starlit eyes of her newest pet. He was still as swarthy and handsomely ugly as he’d always been. She treated him well...fed him, bathed him. He simply couldn’t talk back to her. Men were never so lovely as when they were silent. She grinned and resumed her humming.