The Goddess and The Guardians Boxset: The Complete Romantic Fantasy Quartet

by Karen Tomlinson

  Ilya banked round, soaring over the camp and creating panic.

  Eryanth wondered if she would put herself in danger by landing and changing into her fae form.

  The king contemplated her, clearly wondering the same thing.

  Ilya screeched. She flapped her wings and thrashed her tail whilst hovering above the king. The king grinned and nodded his head.

  Ilya flew back to Eryanth and gestured with her great head to the burning wasteland.

  At least it’s out in the open, thought Eryanth, not liking this plan. Meeting with the king without an army at her back was folly. But Ilya was not the sort to back down, and she knew this would not end without negotiation—unless she and Eryanth chose to destroy his army. Both Ilya and Eryanth had admitted they did not want to do that unless there was no other choice.

  Ilya waited until the king had mounted his horse and galloped into the wasteland. His troops shuffled closer, closing ranks behind him.

  Ilya screeched in warning and spewed a line of fire between them and their king, asserting her power. The soldiers dropped back, their weapons rattling.

  When Ilya landed and reverted to her fae form, the king approached. He gestured for his guard to halt, allowing only his son to stand by his side.

  The king was a thin man, short, even for a human. His small and alert eyes studied Eryanth with the look of a predator. It was disconcerting when Eryanth was the dragon and he the mortal.

  A snake indeed, decided Eryanth.

  The prince, however, wore his emotions on his face. He was not overly tall, as skinny as his father, and had a long cruel face. His lips pressed together and his nostrils flared as he looked at Ilya. There was hate and disgust in that look.

  Ilya turned to Eryanth. “Brother, let us all talk as mortals,” she suggested.

  Still, Eryanth hesitated. This situation did not sit well with him. With an experienced eye, he could see the archers upon the wall were just that bit too far away for accuracy. They could not defend their queen.

  Ilya cocked her head. “It is all right, brother,” she reassured him, her eyes flashing gold.

  Eryanth did not miss the spark of triumph in the prince’s eyes as he changed. As soon as he shifted, Eryanth called upon his shadow. Two blades formed in his hands.

  The king contemplated him before turning his eyes back to Ilya. “Queen Ilya, you look as radiant as always,” he greeted, bowing his head.

  “What is this about, King Turez? Should this situation fall to battle and bloodshed, you know you will lose.”

  “Ah, young queen, your arrogance is astounding. I know you only have depleted troops in this city. My spies tell me many things,” he said looking at Eryanth. “You are powerful indeed, Prince Eryanth. As a prince of two kingdoms, you will be in demand for a marriage of influence.” He rested his attention back upon Ilya. “But that is not what this is about. Our treaty ran out five weeks ago, queen. I will wait no longer. Marry my son now, in front of all your people, or I will destroy your city and take your lands. By the time your reinforcements arrive, there will be nothing left.”

  Ilya opened her mouth to speak then winced as something small hit her neck. Eryanth sprang into action, but before his guardian could push through, he felt pinpricks hit the exposed skin of his neck and face—at least four of them.

  Ilya’s eyes flashed gold, then she winced again, slapping at her neck where a tiny dart protruded.

  Horns resounded off the wall as Ilya’s knees crumpled, she looked at Eryanth with wide eyes as she hit the ground.

  “What are you doing?!” bellowed the king to his son.

  Prince Iberu flicked his wrist and another dart flew out catching his father’s neck. “I will not marry this unearthly abomination,” he sneered at his father. “I will take this city and these lands without having to lay a finger upon such a creature. And you, father, will not be here to stop me.”

  “My men will kill you for this treason,” spat the king, his face paling. A drop of blood leaked from his right nostril.

  Iberu laughed. “No, they won’t. Your greed has blinded you to the thoughts of your people. None of your commanders wish to mix their blood or our people with that of the Fire Mountains, and they most certainly do not wish to be ruled over by a shifter,” he ground out that last word. “They are in support of my taking the throne, father. It is time for you to relinquish your hold on it.”

  “No!” exclaimed the king. “What did you give me?” he asked as if suddenly realising there was blood trickling down his lips and chin and leaking from his eyes.

  “Oh, ice mamba venom,” replied the prince.

  The king’s throat bobbed. A gurgling sound came from his mouth as he clutched at his throat, blood pouring from him.

  Eryanth tried to walk to his sister. She lay utterly still. Panic flooded through him. He couldn’t see if she was breathing. Hope flared when she blinked. Eryanth made a sound of relief in his throat before his legs gave way.

  As his father collapsed at his feet and gasped his last painful breaths, the prince smiled. “My sister will love you,” he commented to Eryanth. “And you, Queen Ilya, will be made an example of to all of your people. I will return here with you on the morrow. Not knowing what is happening to you will destroy your human lover. It will sow fear and uncertainty within your city and begin its downfall. When they see you die tomorrow, they will break,” he gloated.

  Prince Iberu kicked his father’s bloody corpse. “Don’t worry, that poison will not kill you as easily as it did my pathetic excuse for a father,” he informed them. He glanced at the wall where fae warriors were launching skyward and alarms sounded. “Now we must go.”

  The thunder of horses’ hooves vibrated up through the ground into Eryanth’s body. He found himself hoisted up and thrown unceremoniously upon a horse’s back. His head dangled one side, his feet the other. The poor horse snorted and huffed as it was forced to gallop at full speed back to camp. The guard who had vaulted into the saddle leaned his weight on Eryanth’s spine to prevent him from falling off.

  The ground flashed by as the poison took its toll and he fell unconscious.

  Eryanth groaned. His mouth tasted vile, and his eyes burned. He tried to lift his head, every small movement he made setting his skull banging.

  “Ah, you awaken,” said a smooth, female voice.

  Eryanth forced his eyes open whilst trying to pull his wrists apart. He hissed. The metal burned his skin.

  “Sorry about that,” apologised the woman as he glared at her. “My, my, you are a beautiful male specimen, aren’t you?” she crooned. “Thank you, dear brother, for this gorgeous addition to my collection. I shall treasure him.”

  “Yes, well, don’t thank me yet. He will need to be kept trussed and his magic confined,” warned Iberu.

  A slow smile spread across her full ruby mouth, her eyes glinting at the challenge Eryanth presented. “Oh, I think I will manage very well with him confined,” she purred.

  Eryanth growled as she flung her leg over his lap and sat down, wrapping her slim, toned arms around his neck.

  “Urgh! Can’t you wait until I have left before you begin to enjoy your new prize?” Iberu growled.

  “Of course, brother. Feel free to go. You too!” She snapped at the two lavishly dressed men who stood behind her. Eyes downcast, they left.

  “There is more venom on the table should he become too hard to control. Remember, I want him in the cart with his sister before sunrise.”

  The princess turned her attention back to Eryanth, dismissing her brother. “Of course. Go and see to your royal prisoner. I have no interest in watching you conquer her.”

  The prince flung open the tent flap and marched out.

  Eryanth glimpsed the covered and metal-lined walkway between the two tents before the flap dropped into place.

  The woman expelled a relieved breath. She met Eryanth’s gaze then climbed off him. “I would apologise but…” She looked him up and down and shrugged.


  “What do you want?” growled Eryanth, working his magic against the venom in his blood.

  She cocked her head, her black hair cascading over her shoulder. “You will not find your magic responsive. Not in here. This tent is lined with iron rods. It can withstand the most powerful of magical attacks. It is why you have not been rescued. Your sister’s troops very rarely move close enough to attack us directly and, if they do, their magic is useless. Our men kill them before they can figure out why their power has deserted them.” She shrugged and sat on a soft, silk-upholstered couch. “I am Princess Teya,” she introduced herself. Leaning back, she crossed her legs, her pale green skirts drifting open enough to expose her toned, long limbs.

  Eryanth raised his brows expectantly. “My mate is on her way here. If you wish to live, you need to let me go.”

  “Hmm, I don’t think so.” She smiled widely. “I wonder—how much would you sacrifice to save your sister and this world?” she mused. “I know about the threat of the dark god. My spies are many and very vocal when a handsome reward is offered.” She stood and swayed her lithe body over towards him before running her fingers through his hair.

  Small strands tickled Eryanth’s face as she did it again. Silently, he endured her touch.

  Smiling, she lowered herself to stare directly into his eyes. “I will save both you and your sister—for a price,” she told him.

  “Go on,” snarled Eryanth, keeping his eyes on her face, despite her cleavage being on full display. His snarl only deepened as her scent overpowered the air between them. He hated being this close to another woman.

  “I want to rule,” she began. “But in order to be accepted queen of my kingdom, I need a royal marriage. An alliance with my neighbouring kingdom will serve me well. I want peace and stability for my people. Give me this, prince; forsake your freedom and your mate for the life of your sister and I will end my brother’s rule for good.”

  Eryanth could feel his heart banging in his chest. His mind raced—then he smiled grimly. “You will have your deal,” he told her.

  Teya smiled brightly, and relief flashed in her eyes before she blinked it away. “You will not regret your choice, Prince Eryanth. My consort will be top of my harem and have powers none of my other lovers have,” she reassured him.

  Eryanth tried not to laugh in her face. She looked so pleased he almost felt sorry for his lies—until she grabbed a small knife.

  “Now, let’s make this betrothal binding,” she suggested, but there was no compromise in her face.

  Eryanth could only hope there was a way out of this or Diamond would unleash her wrath, not only on him, but on Teya’s kingdom too.

  Teya placed the point of the blade against his chest and made a small cut. The metallic smell of blood filled his nostrils. She lifted a small piece of parchment from her boot and unrolled it. “I had this prepared when Iberu confessed his plans to usurp my father.” Her eyes glinted with steel. “Unlike my brother, I plan to reinforce my kingdom’s strength, not make it weaker by merging it with the lands of a conquered people who will hate my rule. I wish to stamp out the threat of the warlords in the north of my own kingdom and re-establish a thriving trade route with other lands, one that isn’t related to slaving,” she spat. “I want a better, fairer world for the Gar Anonian people,” she stated.

  Eryanth’s brow furrowed in disbelief. “Do you realise how hypocritical you sound?” he growled.

  Teya’s brows mirrored his. “Why?” she questioned, her mouth thinning.

  “You really have no idea, do you?” He almost laughed at her ignorance.

  “About what?”

  “You spout off about wanting a better world, a fairer one. What about your harem? Did those men you just dismissed choose to become your property, or did you give them the same sort of choices you have given me?” He leaned as far forward as he could. His guardian wanted to snap his shackles and show this woman how powerful he was—but perhaps Teya was their only hope of an alliance with Gar Anon. “Remember, the Queen of Avalonia—Griana—did exactly what you are doing. She forced men to be with her. They didn’t love her for it. Deep down inside they despised her. Is that what you want? To be surrounded by men who hate you for what you are doing to them?”

  Her eyes narrowed, dropping to the floor.

  For a moment Eryanth thought he saw shame glint in her face before she sighed, lifting her eyes. “They are still choices—and I will not give up my beautiful men, not unless my chosen consort can give me the company, safety and friendship they all do,” she replied. “They are my protectors, and I trust them above all others. However, I will concede I need to re-evaluate how my palace and court are run if it means our marriage will be more amicable.”

  Eryanth chose to stay quiet at that. It would not do to disillusion her—yet.

  Tight-faced, she ran her finger through his blood and smeared it on the parchment before she cut her own thumb and pressed it on top, mixing their blood. “I do not have magic like yours, but I have enough to seal this bargain,” she informed him and blew gently over the blood. Once it was dry, she rolled it up and stuck it back in her boot.

  Eryanth swallowed hard, guilt consuming his heart.

  “Tomorrow when we head to the wall, my brother intends to kill your sister. Now that I have your pledge, I will not allow that to happen. But make no mistake, if you break your promise to me, I will kill you and your sister before you realise what is happening.”

  Chapter 14

  Eryanth did not struggle. Instead, he kneeled compliantly in the back of the cart, trussed to a long poll. His head lolled forward, yanking on his neck. The acrid stench of ash filled his nostrils as the wheels of the cart lurched over the scorched ground.

  He was flung sideways several times, his leather restraints creaking under his weight. He used the opportunity to glance sideways at Ilya. His guardian growled. Ilya was pale and barely conscious. She was manacled in iron, her wrists secured above her head and her knees lax. Clearly, she had been poisoned again. He bit down on his anger. He would kill Prince Iberu for his treatment of her.

  A cacophony of sound came from the ranks of soldiers that led the way; it was deafening. Teya had said this was to discourage the Lord Protector from trying to rescue his monarch.

  Eryanth knew a whole army would not stop Ugan from trying to reach Ilya, but Ugan was also charged with protecting the realm; as a warrior, he would not sacrifice his men and, therefore, his kingdom in a move doomed to failure.

  Eryanth reached out to Diamond. Their connection seemed stronger than ever as she responded, her worry curling through his mind. He hid his face immediately, his head lolling once again as the prince turned his way.

  They halted far enough away from the city walls that the archers could not hope to hit the prince or princess of Gar Anon, though the vitriol of the soldiers manning the wall was evident in their roars and yells.

  Teya climbed up beside Eryanth, dressed in a figure-hugging golden armour that made her resplendent. Her consorts stood at her back and surrounded the cart, silent and dressed in pompous finery of bright-coloured silks and fine leather boots. Eryanth dismissed their presence, concentrating on Ilya.

  Prince Iberu drew the cart and horses holding Ilya alongside Eryanth’s.

  Eryanth’s dragon tried to push through his chest plate.

  Teya laid a hand upon his armour-clad shoulder and squeezed. To everyone else it looked like a proprietary touch, to Eryanth it was a warning to stay calm.

  “My father was a weak man!” yelled Iberu to his troops, his voice carried by more than the wind across the heads of his men. It cut through the rattle of weapons.

  Magic brushed Eryanth’s skin. He hadn’t thought the humans of Gar Anon possessed magic, but clearly that was a fallacy.

  “He wanted to negotiate with this dragon filth! He wanted me to marry it! I. Will. Not. Negotiate!” he bellowed, lifting Ilya’s head by her hair. “I. Will. Not. Marry. And this kingdom will be ours by suns
et!” he finished to the roar of his nearby soldiers.

  Eryanth heard the whoosh of the flying arrow just before a roar like none he had heard before rattled the air. The arrow thudded into the neck of the soldier who guarded him.

  “No!” shouted Teya, her heading whipping side to side. This clearly wasn’t part of her plan.

  Prince Iberu bellowed at his men to attack the city as Eryanth’s guard pitched forward and toppled to the burned ground, landing with a thud.

  Iberu’s order bellowed through the ranks. Chains rattled and the burning arrows of the ballistas were loosed upon Salvir.

  Ilya lifted her head, her eyes fluttering open at the sound. Gold flared before they lost their glow once again.

  It hurt to see his sister so weak. Eryanth jumped up and snapped his bonds, quickly throwing his strength behind a punch that took out his remaining guard.

  Prince Iberu was watching with unconcealed delight as a huge burning globe flew over the city wall. The screams from the city set Eryanth’s stomach churning.

  “Now!” ordered Teya. Her harem surrounded the cart, one tall man pulling the princess down from view.

  Eryanth jumped and landed squarely beside her. In a heartbeat, he had summoned his blades. Soon he was fighting for his life—and Ilya’s.

  The men of the harem fought by his side. He tempered his surprise at their abilities.

  “We are not just pretty faces,” grinned a lithe man with chocolate brown eyes and cropped hair. “Occasionally our mistress needs us to show our true talents,” he added whilst efficiently cutting down a prince’s guard.

  Prince Iberu roared his fury. His eyes promised murder as they landed upon his sister. “Princess Teya is a traitor! End her now!” he yelled.

  The soldiers nearby were confused; many of them stood back, leaving a space around the factions of fighting guards. Did they fight for their prince or their princess?

  In the distance, golden-winged fae began flying out from Salvir’s wall, shooting arrows down into the hordes of soldiers, creating yet more confusion and death.