by Quinn Loftis
She lifted her chin. “You didn’t escort Cypher in.”
“No.”
“I will walk in on my own, not because I think I need to prove that a woman doesn’t need a man to stand at her side. If I had my choice”—her voice quivered so she collected herself before she continued—“my man would be standing at my side. But they must see that I am every bit the ruler that my mate was.” At least I hope I am.
“You can do this,” Gerick said, his voice firm, “of that I have no doubt.”
“Thank you, Gerick. I appreciate your words and your support.” Lilly straightened her spine and added, “I will see you in the great hall at six sharp.”
Gerick gave her a slight bow. “Yes, my queen.” He turned and left, closing the door behind him.
Lilly didn’t miss the way he slipped in and out of using her formal title. When they’d first met, she’d asked him to call her Lilly because it made her feel uncomfortable being called highness or queen. She supposed she was just going to have to get over her feelings and accept the title.
She went to her closet and began flipping through her immense wardrobe. Lilly’s hands froze as a memory hit her like a ton of bricks.
“Cypher, this is ridiculous,” Lilly said, her eyes wide as she stared at the yards and yards of luxurious fabric that filled the oversized closet and made up countless new outfits.
“You need them,” he said matter of fact.
“All of them?” she asked, her voice rising a bit as she glanced at him from the corner of her eye.
“You’re my queen, Lilly. There will be times you have to look the part. And I want you to have beautiful things. You deserve them.”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” she teased.
Cypher took her chin in his hand and turned her to look at him. He waited until her eyes met his. The air whooshed from her lungs as she stared up into a face full of adoration.
“You have no idea what you mean to me, but I will spend the rest of my life showing you.”
When Lilly returned to the present, she was kneeling on the ground with no memory of how she got there. Her breaths came in rapid succession, and tears streamed down her cheeks. “You showed me,” she whispered through her sobs. “You adored me, and you made sure I knew. But it was too short, Cypher, much too short.” Lilly fell back onto her rear. She caught herself with her hand and felt something soft. She wrapped her fingers around it and lifted the object to see what she held.
It was one of Cypher’s shirts. She huffed a laugh. Even kings left their clothes on the floor. The laugh turned into a wail as she pulled the cloth to her nose and breathed in his scent. She covered her mouth with the shirt and released the anguish that stayed so close to the surface. Lilly screamed as hard as she could, putting every ounce of anger, misery, and fear into it. The fabric muffled the physical sound, but the scream in her mind was piercing. Her stomach clenched, and her heart beat painfully in her chest. The physical ache was every bit as agonizing as the emotional. The combination of both was enough to make a person want to give up. Lilly felt she might shatter at any moment, and the pieces would be too small to put back together.
Her body trembled as she held the shirt tighter. She wished with everything in her that the shirt was on her love’s body, not in her hands. That he was standing before her scowling because she was taking too much time getting dressed. Why couldn’t he have been one of the survivors? Why him? Her other hand pressed to her chest, just over her heart, as if she had to keep it from beating out of her body. She didn’t want this. She didn’t want to experience life without him.
“You’re too strong to give up.”
Lilly jumped at the sound of the female voice behind her. She turned to find Perizada standing in the entrance to the closet. Lilly must have spoken out loud and not realized it, which wasn’t surprising. She seemed oblivious to everything in the past few weeks.
“Peri.” Lilly’s voice was hoarse from screaming.
The fae walked over and leaned down. She took Lilly’s shoulders in her hands and lifted the woman effortlessly to her feet. “There will be time for more tears. And you have a right to every single one. But now we need to turn you into the queen you are.”
“Did Gerick call you?” Lilly asked as she frowned and wiped furiously at her cheeks as she tried to pull herself together.
“No,” Peri answered as she started flipping through the clothes. After several swipes, she picked a black gown that Lilly knew fit like a glove. It was high-necked, long-sleeved, and reached her ankles. “I was contacted by Slygorim.”
“Slygorim? The male who worked for Volcan?”
“The warlock male who had been under Volcan’s thumb because Volcan had his mate,” Peri corrected.
Lilly nodded. She remembered when the male and his mate, Evanora, along with her brother, Zoveus, had returned to their clan. They’d given an account to Cypher of all that had happened.
Peri grabbed Lilly’s hand and pulled her from the closet. “Sly and Z proved themselves to be good males, and I consider them friends. Sly and Evanora expressed concern about you and asked if I would check on you. But don’t be upset because I was headed this way already.”
“Jacque?” Lilly asked.
“She said you won’t answer her calls.”
“I lost my phone,” Lilly explained. It wasn’t a good enough excuse for not speaking to her daughter. She could have borrowed someone else’s or requested a new one. Deep down, though she didn’t want to admit it, Lilly didn’t want to speak to anyone. She wasn’t simply broken. She was empty. When Cypher had died, he’d taken her with him, leaving only the shell, which wasn’t useful to anyone, even her own daughter.
Peri grunted and raised an eyebrow at the warlock queen but didn’t press the issue. “Strip,” she said. The fae sifted through Lilly’s dresser and tossed a pair of undergarments onto the bed. “You can either dress yourself, or I can wave my wand and dress you myself.”
“You don’t use a wand,” Lilly pointed out as she undressed. The idea of having Peri dress her, even with magic, made Lilly feel even more helpless than she already did.
“Regardless, what’s it going to be?”
“I’ll do it the old-fashioned way.” Lilly grabbed the clothes and marched into the bathroom. A few moments later, she returned wearing the dress. “Zip me.” Lilly turned her back to the high fae. Lilly forced herself not to remember the many times Cypher had performed this simple task, the way his fingers would brush her skin, how his warm breath felt on the back of her neck.
“I’m thinking about using one.” Peri’s voice interrupted the memories, which caused Lilly to breathe a sigh of relief.
“Using one what?”
Peri sighed. “A wand, queeny. You’re going to need to keep up better than that if you want to handle these conniving leaders tonight.”
“I know,” Lilly bit out. “I’m just…” She paused.
“You’ve got a shattered heart,” Peri offered. “Ripped from your chest, stabbed, frozen, and then wacked with a sledgehammer until it shattered into a thousand pieces.”
Lilly turned, her eyes wide and her mouth agape. It took a few heartbeats before she could respond. “If that’s a damn rallying speech, you suck.”
“Jen has pointed out on several occasions that I don’t seem to understand the purpose of a pep talk.” Peri shrugged. “I don’t sprinkle sugar on feces, and the only reason I know that’s how you feel is because that’s how I feel.” Peri’s mask suddenly disappeared. Lilly could see the torment the high fae was bearing like a chain around her neck.
Lilly reached out her hand, but Peri blinked. An instant later, the mask was back in place. Take-charge-Peri was once again front and center. She lifted her hand and pointed at Lilly. Warmth ran up and over Lilly, and a second later, her hair, which had been a greasy rat’s nest of neglect, no longer touched her back.
Lilly reached up and felt her hair. Though she couldn’t see it, she could tell it was elabor
ately styled. Then, she felt a dense weight come down on top of her head. She reached up again and felt cold metal.
“You magicked my crown onto my head?” Lilly asked.
Peri shrugged. “I have my uses.”
Tears welled up in Lilly’s eyes as she walked over to the mirror.
“No tears, dammit,” Peri snapped. “If you cry, you’ll mess up all my hard work. And also I will cry and that will piss me off.”
“Hard work?’ Lilly snorted. “You pointed at me and this happened.” She motioned to her face, covered in flawless makeup, transforming her into a woman that didn’t appear as if she’d been weeping for weeks.
“I swear, you’re just like your daughter and her friends, acting like performing my magic is nothing, as if it doesn’t tax me and make me weak.”
Lilly immediately felt bad. “Oh Peri,” she blurted out, “I had no idea. I wouldn’t have let you do this if I’d known—”
Peri held up her hand cutting her off. “I was messing with you, queeny. Forgive me. It seems like my new therapy of choice is giving other people shit and taking great pleasure from it.”
Lilly lifted a brow at the high fae. “Are you sure that’s something new?”
Peri grinned. “Touché.” The high fae took a deep breath, blew it out, and rubbed her hands together. “Now, we need to go over all the possibilities for tonight.”
“Gerick came and spoke with me about how I should handle it.” Lilly told Peri what the general had advised.
“While that is all excellent advice,” Peri said as she paced, “there are things that the good general has not considered. Yes, they want to see if you can handle being queen, but that’s not all.”
Lilly could already tell, by the tone of Peri’s voice, that she would not like what the high fae said next.
“Cypher has relatives.”
“Relatives?” Lilly said, sounding indignant even to herself.
“Yes. You know, those people related by blood, even if distantly.” Peri rolled her eyes.
Lilly ignored the woman’s obvious irritation because she understood how the fae felt. Dealing with people was not at the top of the list of things Lilly wanted to do either. Yet Peri helped her anyway.
“There are always relatives in a royal lineage waiting for their chance at the throne, no matter how miniscule the possibility that they will ever achieve it. Cypher, the long-time king, is gone, and those relatives will be frothing at the mouth to take his place.”
“Like hell,” Lilly said before she could censor herself. Not that she had some ambitious desire to be queen, but it was the position her husband had given to her because he believed she was the best person for the job. And though destroyed by the loss of him, the thought of someone trying to usurp his decision infuriated her.
Peri’s lips turned up slightly. “There’s the fight in you. No matter how much you want to lie down and die, Lilly, you must stand your ground. Everything Cypher has done for your race depends on it.” Peri stepped close to her. The high fae lifted Lilly’s chin and pulled her shoulders back. “You will stand proud because your mate loved you and was proud to have you at his side. You will hold yourself as the queen you are: regal, strong, and steadfast. You will not fail, Lilly. You cannot fail.”
Lilly thought of all the things that could happen if an upstart warlock leader removed her from her station. Whoever took her place might not care about the other races or the trials they are facing. They might not be loyal to the Great Luna. They could even decide to join forces with the Order. Any and all of those things would be disastrous to their race, as well as to the others who were depending on the warlocks’ support in the battles to come … because there would be more battles.
“It’s time,” Peri said, her voice tight with resolve. “I cannot join you for this first meeting. But once it becomes evident who is stupid enough to think to stand against you, they will see you have allies. That does not make you weak. It makes you smart.”
Lilly nodded. She turned toward the door. Her hands were fisted at her sides, and she had to force herself to open them, to relax. When she looked back to tell Peri thank you, the high fae was gone. “Well, all right then,” Lilly muttered. With one last deep breath, she took a step toward the door, then another, and another. As she opened then closed the door behind her, she said quietly, “Great Luna, give me strength.”
Chapter 2
“Scampering ants. That’s what the members of the Order look like as they try to regroup after having their asses handed to them by a single Canis lupus female. If I had some cotton candy, I would toast the blonde one who has almost single-handedly brought the Order to its knees.” ~Myanin
“Why did you do this to me?” Lyra asked her.
Myanin was panting as she ran, which was weird because she’d never been out of breath in her life. Djinn didn’t get out of breath. You know that’s not why you’re out of breath, a voice in her mind chided her. You’re panicking, the voice continued. The voice of her conscience was loud in her mind, but Myanin tried to ignore it. The djinn thought she’d lost that part of herself when she’d killed the elder. Now, the recently deceased elder, or at least some strange vision of her, was jogging beside Myanin, and Lyra didn’t seem to be having any trouble keeping pace. Myanin was already sprinting, but she pushed herself to run faster. Yet no matter how fast she moved, the djinn elder kept up with her, asking the same question. Why?
“Why, Myanin?” Lyra asked yet again. “Why did you kill me? What did I do that sentenced me to death in your eyes?”
Myanin finally stopped running. She bent over, her hands resting on her knees, as she gulped in as much air as she could. What was the point? She could run to the gates of hell and back and never outrun the demon plaguing her mind.
“Myanin, wh—” Lyra started again, but Myanin interrupted her as she stood from her bent position.
“You treated me like a criminal!” She roared at the elder who looked alive and well, though Myanin knew she was anything but. Perhaps the vision of Lyra was the dead djinn’s spirit, returned to haunt Myanin for the rest of her days. She sure as hell hoped not. “You had me cleaning your rugs like some slave. I’m a warrior.” Myanin slammed her fist against her chest. “And a damn good one at that, and you and the other elders carelessly tossed me aside, as if all the centuries I have guarded our realm meant nothing! Like I was nothing.” Her hand swiped through the air, slicing it like a sword through an invisible enemy.
Lyra shook her head. Her eyes were filled with sadness, rather than the anger Myanin thought she would see. Who looked at their murderer with sadness?
“Why?” Lyra asked yet again. “Why did you kill me?”
Myanin reached up her hands and gripped her hair at the roots, pulling it hard as she gritted her teeth. “Wake up!” she yelled as she squeezed her eyes closed. She didn’t want to look at the sorrow-filled eyes of the elder for another second. She didn’t want to hear the question again and again. “WAKE UP, DAMN YOU!”
Myanin shot up straight in her bed. Sweat covered her skin, and her long hair stuck to her damp flesh. The sick feeling in her stomach, which had become ubiquitous since she’d escaped her own realm, was a typhoon in her gut. She felt as if she’d eaten a basket full of rancid fish, and her body was trying hard to expel it. Yet no amount of vomiting eased the feeling. It was simply one of the punishments for what she’d done. Another was the damn dream, or nightmare rather, that she got to experience every … freaking … night. They started the night the prisoners had escaped, and they’d not let up since. Every time she closed her eyes, without fail, Lyra was there, waiting with the same question.
Myanin glanced at the phone on the small table beside the bed. It was early, too early to be awake, but she had no desire to go back to sleep. She got up and grabbed her weapons from where they rested against a wall. The small room she’d been assigned by Alston only had one entry point, and there was no window. If she had an intruder, Myanin would easily be able
to get to her weapons while also using the bed for cover if need be. She’d avoid using her power if she could.
Her emotions were so volatile as of late. The power she’d taken from Lyra, overwhelmed her at times, as if she’d taken one bite too many of her meal and it was threatening to come back up. Other times, Myanin could practically feel the power moving just under her skin, as if seeking a way out. She had no idea what would happen if she let her magic loose in an uncontrolled environment. In her own realm, warriors were allowed to practice using their magic, but only under the watchful eye of the elders who could intervene if necessary. They were told it was an absolute last resort if ever in a fight, not that there had been any fights between djinn and other supernatural races. The djinn were supposed to only be historians, and as her skin pulsed with power, she began to understand why.
Myanin didn’t have to change clothes. She’d managed to find a solid black uniform that she’d seen other Order warriors wearing, and she simply slept in it. Rolling her neck around after donning her blades, she headed for the door. The djinn was in need of a good fight, and there was always somebody sparring. She’d been told her presence was required at a meeting of the Order leaders, but it wasn’t until midday. That should give her plenty of time to put a few fae on their asses and help banish the nightmare from her mind.
She reached the training building and smiled. There were plenty of potential victims either sparring or standing around watching. She walked through the waiting crowd and didn’t miss the way they parted for her—some of them looking at her with distrust, a few with interest, but most with simple curiosity. Let them wonder. She didn’t care what they thought of her.
As soon as a sparring circle opened, Myanin moved to it and pulled out the two short swords she kept in sheaths on her back. She rotated her wrists, spinning the blades in alternating circles as she waited. She knew she wouldn’t need to wait long. There was always someone who wanted to show their strength against a powerful opponent. Fighting a djinn was something few would ever have the opportunity to do because the secretive race rarely left their own realm. It was definitely an opportunity to prove something. Whether what they proved was the fact that they were an idiot or extraordinarily brave was the question. Finally, a male fae stepped into the circle. He was tall and possessed more bulk than most of the fae she’d seen. Like the others, he had long hair, though the dark locks were pulled back into a braid, away from his face. His eyes were stone grey and cold as ice. Thin lips pulled tight across his face as he narrowed his icy gaze on her. She could feel his judgment, and the fact that he already found her lacking even before fighting her.
