Free The Wood Queen by Karen Mahoney Page A

rebuilt arms and hands. Why hadn’t her aunt ever told her about Simon? In Donna’s presence, the alchemists had only ever referred to him as the Order’s secretary—or as Quentin’s partner and lover—never as a potentially more powerful alchemist than the Archmaster.
    Shouldn’t Simon himself hold the title of Archmaster, if he really was a magus? Quentin had been a talented alchemist in his youth, but he was certainly no magus; she knew that because of a story he’d once told her about how he flunked some kind of important alchemical trial. It had been one of the many stories he’d told her whilesitting at her bedside during her long recovery as a traumatized child.
    None of this made any sense.
    But there wasn’t any time left to unravel things as the inner door opened and Aunt Paige walked into the room, closely followed by “the Magus” himself.
    Donna tried to stand, but her legs still felt strange. Instead, she shifted to the edge of the seat and looked up into her aunt’s eyes. She was searching for some kind of signal; something she could hold on to during whatever was to come next.
    But making eye contact with Paige Underwood caused any last drops of hope to slip through her fingers. Her aunt seemed as hard and unrelenting as the trees of Ironwood Forest.
    “Donna, are you ready?” Aunt Paige asked.
    “Yes,” she replied. What else could she say? “I suppose I am.”
    Simon Gaunt was rubbing his hands together in the familiar gesture that grated on her nerves. The dry scraping of his skin made her feel sick all over again.
    “It’s time,” he said, in his typically pompous voice.
    Donna felt her heart speed up, and wished that she wouldn’t always feel so afraid of the alchemists lately.
    But she was made of tougher stuff than that. She was Patrick and Rachel Underwood’s daughter. She had magically forged iron embedded in her flesh and wrapped around her bones. She had almost died in the Wood Monster’s fieryjaws—twice. No way was Donna Underwood going to let an outdated secret society get the better of her.
    Screw them , she thought to herself, unable to stop the slight smile that twisted her lips as she rose to follow her aunt through the doors to the meeting room.
    She didn’t even care when she figured that Robert had caught the unpleasant expression on her face.
    Screw them all.

    Maker stood with the help of his cane, leaning heavily on it so that Donna could see the whites of his knuckles pressing against papery skin.
    “There is a new witness I would like to introduce, Archmaster,” he said.
    The inner chamber was once again filled with alchemists, all sitting around the room in a semi-circle. This time, Donna had been ushered to a sturdy table on one side. There were two chairs behind the table, one of which was for her. The occupant of the other chair caused her to forget herself for a moment— Maker . Donna had been so relieved to see the old alchemist that she’d embarrassed them both by pushing the table effortlessly aside and hugging him. At least her “defense” was putting in an appearance for the second session of the day.
    At the sound of Maker’s proclamation, Quentin raised his head and met the alchemist’s eyes. A look passed between them—a look that Donna immediately knewshe was not meant to have seen. Something was going on, and it seemed that both Maker and Quentin were in on it. From the expression of outrage on Simon’s face, it was clear that one of the old guard in the room wasn’t aware of what was going on.
    “And who might that be, Maker?” Quentin asked.
    “Let me introduce you to—”
    “This is highly irregular,” Simon huffed, pushing thinning strands of hair back from his sweating forehead and cutting Maker off before he could go any further. “We have heard the case presented at this hearing. The Council is only expected to be here for a few days. I really think we should move on to—”
    “Simon,” Quentin said, “you know quite