THORN QUEEN
“You don’t understand. You can’t understand. I’m caught between two worlds here, with two sets of loyalties. I’ve spent my entire life being human—being part of that world. You can’t expect me to throw all that away and betray my own kind.”
Dorian opened his mouth to retort and was interrupted by a faint roll of thunder. Whatever words he’d been about to utter disappeared, and he laughed. “Do you hear that? That’s you, Eugenie. Your anger.”
I shook my head. “I can’t control thunder and lightning yet.”
“Not control, no. But you can summon it unconsciously. Do you think there’s anything in this land that isn’t tied to you?” He gestured around us. “All these people here…they are your own kind too. This is what I meant when I said you’re the only one who doesn’t seem to realize you’re a queen yet! All these people are looking to you to protect them and do what’s right.
“Dorian, I can’t kill in cold blood!”
He gripped me by the arms, voice calm but infused with anger. “You can do whatever it is you have to do! You are a queen. Forget all this talk about Storm King’s grandson. Right now, you are his heir. You are on the verge of becoming one of the most powerful rulers in this world….”
Books by Richelle Mead
SUCCUBUS BLUES
SUCCUBUS ON TOP
SUCCUBUS DREAMS
SUCCUBUS HEAT
STORM BORN
THORN QUEEN
Published by Kensington Publishing Corporation
THORN QUEEN
Richelle Mead
ZEBRA BOOKS
Kensington Publishing Corp.
http://www.kensingtonbooks.com
For Jen and Chad,
who understand the value of a good monster
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
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter One
Sad fact: lots of kids know how to use knives and guns.
I’d been one of them, but instead of pursuing a life of crime, I’d trained to be a shamanic mercenary. This meant that while my friends were at dances and football games, I’d been out banishing spirits and wrestling down monsters with my stepfather. On the upside, I grew up never fearing muggers or any other assailants. On the downside, an adolescence like that really screws with your social development.
It meant I’d never really been like other kids. I’d had some friends, but compared to their world, mine had been terribly stark and terribly deadly. Their dramas and concerns had seemed so petty next to mine, and I could never fully relate. As an adult now, I still couldn’t really connect to kids because I had no shared experiences to draw on.
Which made my job today that much more difficult.
“Go ahead, Polly,” crooned the girl’s mother, smiling with overplump lips. Too much collagen, I suspected. “Tell her about the ghost.”
Polly Hall was thirteen but wore enough makeup to rival a forty-year-old whore. She sat slouched against the back of a couch in her family’s perfectly decorated house, chewing gum loudly, looking everywhere but at us. The more I studied her, the more I decided she probably did have problems. I suspected they had less to do with supernatural influences and more with having a mother who had named her Polly and let her wear thongs. It was an unfortunate side effect of Polly’s low-cut jeans that I could see the aforementioned thong.
After a minute of silence, Mrs. Hall sighed loudly. “Polly, dear, we’ve been over this. If you aren’t going to help us, we can’t help you.”
Smiling, I knelt down in front of the couch so I could look the girl in the eyes. “It’s all right,” I told her, hoping I sounded sincere and not like an after-school special. “I’ll believe whatever you tell me. We’ll get it taken care of.”
Polly sighed just as loudly as her mother had a moment ago and still refused to look at me. She reminded me of my unstable teenage half sister who was currently MIA and wanted to conquer the world. “Mom,” she said, “can I go to my room now?”
“Not until you’ve talked to this nice lady.” Glancing back to me, Mrs. Hall explained. “We hear strange noises all night: bangs, cracks, bumps. Things fall over for no reason. I’ve even…” She hesitated. “I’ve even seen things fly around the room. But it’s always when Polly’s around. Whatever this ghost is, it seems to like her…or be obsessed with her.”
I turned my attention back to Polly, again taking in the sullen
