by Plum Pascal
I twirl the trident into its ready position, tines pointed toward the rapidly expanding whirlpool. Glass, gemstones, stone, and various shattered treasures are caught in the current and spin like pottery on a wheel, but I’m not drawn in. The trident is like an anchor, keeping me firmly locked where I am.
The metal begins to glow silver-blue, the power of the ocean threatening to crush me flat as I loose one bolt—just a single bolt, the same size and intensity as one of Lar’s light beams, cast into the center of that swirling storm. It’s carried down through the water like a funnel straight to Triton and impacts a second later, splitting his stone scepter down the middle before the power touches his flesh.
Triton bursts.
Simply explodes into bits of blood, bone, and silvery skin, leaving no pieces larger than a fingernail.
The storm ceases, every object settling lazily in the wake of the attack. Lar appears then, watching the debris and pieces of his ally settle to the floor in front of me with a look of quiet horror dawning across his lucent face. I adjust my grip on the trident, aiming for him next.
Kill the intruder, the voice of the trident agrees. The heavens have no place in the sea.
Maybe I could have killed Lar. Maybe I couldn’t have. I’ll never know, because he flees the second I move toward him, streaking away as fast as his namesake. He’s gone in mere moments. I’m left standing alone among the wreckage of the throne room, with nothing but debris and corpses for company.
The sea is placid.
I am not.
The sense of alien calm the trident imbued within me during the battle seeps away, and a wail escapes my mouth. I want to be on land so I can release the flood of salty water that builds behind my eyes. I need the catharsis of tears. Instead, I sink to the ground, tail folding beneath me as I’m hammered by grief.
I won.
But I also lost.
Lost Hook, lost Andric.
It’s not worth it. No victory is worth their lives.
Gentle hands take me by the shoulders and pull me up. I barely have the strength to look up, and my eyes are slow to focus when I do.
Bastion’s hands settle into my hair, petting me softly until the edge of pleasure pushes back the tide of sorrow that beats against me. His eyes are soft, full of understanding.
“You’re alive,” I whisper.
“Yes,” he says with a soft smile.
“It hurts,” I gasp. It’s not an adequate explanation, but I’m beyond words. I can’t explain the complexity of the feeling. “Bastion, it hurts.”
“I know, Aria. I’ve got you.”
Then his strong arms close around my shoulders and slide beneath my tail, pulling me up from the floor like I’m a mere fingerling.
I nestle my head into his shoulder, trying to ignore the death and destruction surrounding me.
TWENTY-THREE
BASTION
Two Days Later
Aria is nearly catatonic for the next two days.
She barely reacted when she was pulled ashore, except to shiver from the cold. A storm front swept in, backwash from the level of power she called upon to defeat Triton. Fortunate for us, though, because it curbed the amount of energy Lar could draw upon as he fled. Reports say he still blazed a path of destruction along the shore of Delorood, leaving most fishing boats razed to ash and at least fifteen dead before he left the country’s borders.
Opeia had to guide Aria briefly to reinforce the spell that contains the grotesquerie. Then she cast the enchantment to give Aria legs again, legs so she could go to Andric and Hook to ensure they were being properly cared for. I was given legs again as well, to keep watch over Aria.
Hook pulled through, opening his eyes the evening after we arrived on land. He’s got one hell of a knot on his head and the physicians say he’s almost certainly sustained a concussion. He doesn’t move quickly, light bothers him, and he rests often, but he’s alive.
Andric is another matter, however.
Hook’s quick thinking saved the prince’s life, in a way. The mucus Andric ingested will keep him at the point of death until he can be healed. But there’s no telling when that will be. Regardless, he can’t serve as king to Aria’s queen now.
After Andric’s condition was discovered by his father and kingdom, it looked like we might take the blame for the state of affairs we found ourselves in, but cooler heads eventually prevailed. Andric’s father wrestled a promise from Aria, one she was only too willing to keep.
Andric’s body had to be kept safe, and all indicators led the king’s counsel to believe Delorood would continue to be targeted now that the sea had been conquered by our side.
Furthermore, Bridgeport’s strategic position meant it would be a prime target when Morningstar eventually broke from his prison. So, Andric couldn’t remain in his kingdom. Aria promised to take him safely away as soon as Hook was well enough to travel.
Now, Opeia is regent in the sea, until Aria returns from her voyage, at which time Aria will take her father’s throne and rule the ocean as she was meant to do.
As regards the prince, Aria plans to entrust his body to the only authority the people of Delorood trust besides their own rulers.
Huntsmen.
The four houses still loyal to the Order of Aves have agreed to keep Andric’s body safe in their stronghold until a solution can be found. Good for Andric and Aria. Awful for me, because I’m to stay here.
Aria catches me scowling out at the water, though I’ve been trying to hide my displeasure from her all evening. I lean against the railing that runs the length of the bow of Hook’s new vessel, the Siren’s Song, which he named for Aria. It’s newly built, the process expedited by Opeia and Aria, who funded the operation with the spheres from the orrery that survived Triton’s attack.
Broken down, the boulder-sized hunks of silver and gold meant to symbolize the sun and moon will keep Delorood’s economy funded for years, and that doesn’t include the surviving gems of the same size. The cost for Hook’s ship was a mere drop in the bucket. It hadn’t even made the counsel blink to hire a sorceress to enchant it to fly, as per Hook’s request.
“You’re angry with me,” Aria murmurs, coming to stand beside me, leaning her weight against the rail as well.
“Concerned,” I correct her. “This is dangerous, Aria. I don’t like sending you away from Delorood. Not now.”
Not since we’ve heard tales that the seals holding Morningstar back are degrading further. Lar got out, and it’s rumored Sol may be out, as well. The seals are thin, and I need to be at Aria’s side if Morningstar breaks through.
“I’ll have the trident and Kassidy will be with me. Two Chosen against Lar? I don’t think he’ll risk it.”
“You’ll be far from your seat of power. You should let me make the trip to see the Huntsmen with Hook.”
She smooths the front of my coat. The thing is royal blue and trimmed with white and green, like the nation’s flag, designed to be worn by the King of Delorood. It’s meant to be Andric’s, not mine. I’m no king. But apparently everyone thought it a fucking brilliant idea to make me regent on land while Opeia is regent in the sea.
Months or years trapped in this human shell, only seeing Aria during scheduled visits? The idea makes me shudder. But I’ll do it. For her, and for Andric. The prince proved himself and he deserves to come back to an intact people. Aria trusts me; I’ll have to trust that she knows what she’s doing.
“I’ll protect her, mate,” Hook says quietly from his position behind the wheel.
I flick a glance at him over my shoulder. He’s paler than usual, still not entirely returned to himself. His healing will be a long road. I wish I could find it in myself to dislike him, as I used to, but I can’t. I’m too grateful to him. He saved Andric. I’ll owe Hook for that for so long as I live, because it’s the only thing that gives my princess peace of mind.
“You’d better, fucking scallywag,” I mutter.
“I swear it by me brot
her, Quinn. I’ll bring Aria back safely. May a crocodile eat the rest o’ me if I fail.”
A smile ghosts across my face. “I’ll hold you and the crocodile to it.”
“Stop brooding, Bastion,” Aria coaxes, fisting her hand more firmly in the lapel of my coat. “Come to the cabin with us.”
My cock stirs at her words. Aria has been promising for days that, on the eve of the journey, she’ll treat Hook and me to a night we won’t forget. It’s bittersweet, as Andric isn’t capable of joining us like she would have wanted, but I can’t deny I’ve been looking forward to it. It’s wrong, but the thought of having her human body in more than illusion has been occupying my dreams for longer than I care to admit.
I cast another glance at Hook, who grins at me, making an “after you” gesture toward Aria. She’s so fucking beautiful in one of the gowns human women wear. This one is pale gold and flickers like candlelight as she moves, the fabric whispering along her pale calves. Odd that I missed her long legs so much.
“Kings before scallywags, mate,” he says with a knowing look.
He knows what I want to do, and he’ll let me. The fucking deviant. I can’t help another smile. Aria answers it with a soft, sad one of her own.
“Give me a proper goodbye, Bastion. Make me feel it tomorrow morning.”
I seize her waist, drawing her into my chest as my mouth comes down to cover hers in a kiss that could scorch the sails above us to cinders.
“As my queen commands.”
EPILOGUE
ARIA
Kassidy’s reunion with her brothers looks more akin to a brawl than an actual greeting. I’ve only ever had sisters and have never been close to any of them, so I can’t say if this is normal or not.
She hits the first of the two broadside and almost tackles him to the ground before he catches himself, planting his back foot to recover, and swings her around to dangle over the side of the dock.
“Some Chosen you are,” he mocks with a grin. “Still telegraphing your lunges, little sister? I should drop you in the harbor.”
“Don’t you fucking dare, Titus!” Kassidy growls, baring her teeth in a kitten-like snarl of defiance. But beneath the threat, there’s a hint of laughter. “I’ll drag you down with me!”
Titus is handsome and purely masculine. He’s both stocky and broad and stands perhaps just under six feet. The bulk makes him look a little disproportionate, though it does have its own sort of charm when you get used to it. His hair is ash brown with just a streak of red sweeping through it to break up the dark color. It’s probably shoulder-length when down, but he has it tied in a messy bun at the nape of his neck.
A long-suffering sigh draws my attention to the second brother. He’s easy to miss when standing near Titus. He tends to keep utterly still, only moving when he has to, and as slender as the sword for which Kassidy tells us he’s named. Well over six feet tall, he towers above both Titus and Kassidy, though it’s not a difficult feat with the latter.
His hair is snowy white, but there’s not a single line on his handsome face. While he barely looks older than twenty, I know he has to be twice that in order to have fought in the last war. Like Titus, there’s a stripe of unnatural color running through his waist-length braid, a startling blue this time.
“Titus, put her down before we start attracting attention,” Sabre chastises quietly. “This tradeoff is going to be difficult enough as it is.”
He’s right, of course. People are already staring at our ship, though we’ve tried to be as inconspicuous as possible. Flying the royal flag of another nation will tend to do that. Heaven help us if they find out what cargo we’re giving the huntsmen. It seems fundamentally wrong to fold Andric up like a quilt and shove him into a crate to be shipped away, but we can’t risk exposing him. It will be too easy for some bandit to steal his body and extort Delorood if they have any inkling what the huntsmen are here for.
It’s with much difficulty that I agreed to hand Andric over to the huntsman. Andric truly owns a piece of my heart, ever since he proved his courage and his love for me, I realized what an incredible man he is. Actually, that’s not true—I’d always known what Andric was made of, even if I didn’t want to reveal as much to myself.
But, the truth is I love him. I love him just as much as I love Hook and Bastion. And I love the three so much, I completed the unfinished mate marks on each one of them. And it was an easier conversation than I’d thought it would be.
Maybe it was owing to the intense drama that had unfolded in my childhood palace, but both Bastion and Hook had dropped their differences and they’d both agreed to share me. I’d already known such would be the case with Andric so I wasn’t concerned that he wasn’t able to partake of the conversation.
It had come as a surprise that Hook had decided to stay with me, after his decision never to bed another queen again. Perhaps it was his fondness for Andric that caused his change of heart? I’m not sure, as Hook never did say and he doesn’t appear eager to discuss his reasons.
And that is fine by me—Hook’s reasons can remain his alone. I’m just beyond joyful to be able to call him my own, as well as Bastion and Andric.
I’m pulled out of my reverie as I watch Titus swing Kassidy back over the deck as he drops her with a good-natured laugh. She punches him hard in the bicep, which only makes him laugh harder. Kassidy’s men watch all of this all with amusement, and I with bemusement.
What a strange family.
Hook and I unload Andric ourselves, guiding the long packing crate toward the back of the huntsmen’s waiting carriage. It seems wrong for anyone else to do it, even Kassidy or her bears. Andric is my lover and, Hook can grudgingly admit, his friend.
This is our burden.
I kiss the wooden exterior before the carriage is sealed up. It’s all I can do under the circumstances, and it falls woefully short. And although Andric’s alive, I can’t help but feel I’ve failed him.
“Guard him well for us, Sabre,” Kassidy says, smile slipping when things have been settled.
“We cannot,” Sabre says after a moment of hesitation. “That responsibility will fall to Bishop, I’m afraid. We have a mission elsewhere.”
He lifts his hand to show Kassidy a signet ring. On it is the image of a small bird in flight, and the symbol glows blue-white. The ring is active, meaning there’s a hunt afoot.
Kassidy blinks once in shock.
“Who is it?”
“A Gryphus huntsman bound for Ascor.”
“Why Ascor?” she asks.
Sabre nods. “He’s been sent to kill Princess Carmine before her wedding.”
The Happily Never After Series
To Be Continued in…
ROSE
NOW AVAILABLE!
PURCHASE NOW!
DOWNLOAD FREE E-BOOKS NOW!
Getting your FREE e-books is as easy as:
Visit www.hpmallory.com
Enter your email in the pop-up box (or the link at the top of the home page)
Check your email!
(Continue reading for sample chapters from my other series)
ANGEL
Prologue:
The Oath of Devotion
As there is light, there must also be dark. As there is life, there must also be death. As there is the mortal world, there must also be the realm of light and shadow…
In the beginning, there was balance.
Then, with the coming of the Singularity, light was nearly sacrificed by dark when a rift in the Shadow Realm resulted in darkness spilling into the mortal and fae worlds. Humans were completely wiped out until only the magical remained, and the balance of the natural order was left hanging precariously.
The Mortal, Fae, and Shadow Realms were the charge of the Midnight Queen. In order to set the equilibrium right, she chose four representatives—two from the Shadow Realm, and two from the realm of light.
These four soldiers pledged to maintain the balance between shadow and light by taking t
he Oath of Devotion. Thus, they were bound to protect this delicate equilibrium by making a pact, through blood, and witnessed by none other than the Midnight Queen, herself.
The first to take the pledge was the King of Shadows, a gargoyle.
The second was the King of Light, an angel.
The third was the King of Nature, an elf.
The fourth was the King of Death, a vampire.
With the rise of the Midnight Queen’s Protectors, balance was achieved anew. But that stability was short-lived, as greed and envy upset the equilibrium once again…
ONE
Eilish
(pronounced Ay-lish)
Mortal Realm
I shiver.
Drops fall from the sky, big ones that make it difficult to see the road.
I don’t know where I am. Or how I got here.
My stomach rumbles and nausea threatens to send bile up my throat—a throat which already feels strangely raw. It stings like I’ve been repeatedly vomiting.
A second wave of chills shoots through me, shaking me from head to toe, thrashing me forward and then back again. Heaving, I’m forced to bend over as my body does its best to eject the contents of my stomach… now just acid.
You have to run, a woman’s voice yells at me.
I glance around, but no one’s there.
Run, Eilish, the voice insists.
I don’t recognize the name but since the voice seems to be addressing me, I figure it must be mine.
Go, now, Eilish, run! The voice grows more insistent, panicking even.
I don’t know where it’s coming from, if someone I can’t see is talking to me or if the voice is just in my head. Or if I’m just imagining the whole thing.
