by CY Jones
With that, he storms off, and I let him, not having it in me to stop him. Zion has spoken and there’s no changing his mind. And in this case… just this once, I’ll admit that he’s one-hundred percent right.
“His delivery may have sucked, but he’s right, sweetheart,” Blondie says after a moment of silence. “You can’t just come in at the end and demand we give up what we fought so hard to obtain. If you ask, we’ll help you with your father, but you won’t get anywhere with any of us if you demand help from us like we owe you. We don’t owe you anything. We’re not the ones who imploded your life, so stop coming at us like fools and treating us like tools to fulfill your agenda.”
He leaves me alone with my thoughts, and all I can think of is what a bitch I am. Blondie’s right. I have been thinking of them like tools. Weapons to fulfill my agenda Morganstein sent me careening on. Zion had every right to laugh in my face. He should have done more to me than just that. My words hurt him. I’ve been hurting him. He lost a sibling too. Someone who was just as close to him as I am with Quinn. I keep attacking him and pushing him away because that's all I know how to do. All my life, I’ve been guarded. I grew up in a family that hated me. Where I always had to be on my toes. Quinn is the only one who was able to keep me grounded, and with him gone, I’m up in the air with zero gravity.
I need to fix this, but how? Chasing Zion down and talking to him is out of the question. He needs time to cool down, but who knows how much of that we have left. “You could offer your help without expecting anything from it. Come up with a battle plan to move forward. Maybe then they’ll take you seriously and won’t feel like you’re using them,” Archer suggests.
“I guess I can do that. I have an idea, but I’ll need your expertise to fine tune it. Once done, I can go to Zion with the plan as a peace offering.”
“That sounds like a wise decision,” he hums in my head.
Hopefully, Zion will approve because what I have in mind is absolutely batshit. I may be a manipulator now, but I’ll always be a harlequin no matter whose blood runs through my veins.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Mother says, entering my chamber in her chastising, queenly tone as if I’m an impudent child and not a fully grown warrior.
“What does it look like? I’m preparing for war.” I don’t know why she’s so surprised. She should have known it would come to this. My honor is on the line and as prince of the winter lands it is my duty to avenge my mate.
“Son,” she says in a sad voice. “What happened to Ariella was unfortunate, but you can’t just storm the Spring Court and confront the Erlking without proof. Not without breaking the accords.”
“To hell with the accords!” I shout. “Didn’t he break them first when he trespassed into our lands, held my mate prisoner, and fucked her, leaving her broken on the edge of our territory?” Icicles ripple across my pale skin as my anger surges to the forefront, the true cause to the power inside me flaring uncontrollably. I’m barely keeping it together. My mind keeps circling back to the state of my mate when I found her, naked and covered in blood and bruises on the snowy river bank only a couple of meters away from the borders where winter and spring meet.
“The incident is being investigated. We still don’t know if he attacked her or if she gave herself to him willingly...”
“Don’t even finish that thought. Ariella would never betray me,” I growl, cutting her off.
How dare she suggest such a thing! Not only did Ariella and I grow up together, we have been betrothed to each other since we were young. I’ve always known she would be mine. We’ve known each other forever. She’s my confidant and best friend. There’s not a fear or desire she has not shared with me. I may have been able to keep secrets from her, but she cannot do the same. Unlike with the Seelie Court, once mated, we Unseelie fae do not stray.
“You don’t know that. I know she’s your mate, and it’s understandable you want to defend her honor, but it’s quite possible you didn’t know Ariella as well as you think you do. Without proof, I cannot allow you to storm the Spring Court and fracture the delicate peace we have had for centuries. As your Queen and sovereign, I forbid you to go.”
My outburst is immediate, and my power explodes out of me on a sharp exhale, and I freeze the room from the ceiling to the floor, completely covering it in solid ice. Deadly sharp icicles hang from the ceiling above her, and with the blink of an eye, I could send them crashing down upon her head, but I refrain and find myself at the last second, taking a breath.
I will not allow my anger to control me.
“I’m sorry, son,” she says in a softer tone than before, patting me on my shoulder and leaving me to my despair.
Betrayal runs deep. The fresh sting of it flows through my veins like a venomous serum. Ariella was my everything. I thought I knew her inside and out. That she was capable of hiding nothing from me, but turns out, my mother was right. I did not know her as well as I thought I did.
Ambition is like a parasite. A driving force that plants itself in your body and destroys you from the inside out as it consumes all your thoughts like nutrients, and everything that makes you who you are until you’re nothing but an empty husk of what you once were. Ariella’s ambitions drove her to do anything, including betraying me, her true mate. To think, her left out beaten and bruised on the edge of our territory was nothing but a coverup for her vile actions. Willingly, she laid with that parasite in hopes of becoming queen of two courts.
What a fool.
Now, she’s nothing more than a pretty ice sculpture in my mother’s private gardens.
Eight long years I have been biding my time. Waiting patiently until I could finally take my revenge. Plotting and scheming with my enemies until the day came where I am here now, at this point and time where I’ve gained my objective. A duel with Erlking without violating the accords.
Spring, once formable, is in discord. Oberon, the fool that he is, has been meddling with the gods in some sick form of entertainment and has put all his people at risk. And his atrocities don't end just there. No one was exempt from his games, not even his Queen. With the nectar of a flower, Titana now found herself in love with the unfortunate fae, Puck, cursed with the face of a donkey. Now, with the spell broken, she wants her revenge just as much as I do. The enemy of my enemy is my friend, or in my case, temporary ally.
The battle is fierce. In my territory, we have the advantage, but Oberon is a strong foe to have. He fights like a well seasoned warrior, and even with my long life, he still has a couple of hundred decades on me, but still, I don’t give up and fight on, letting the heat of my rage drive me. With my sword blessed by the gods of ice and snow, I shed his blood, the red like art on the milky white bank. Stab, cut, parlay. Jump, steer, strike. This is my death song as we dance across the ice.
I made a mistake with Ariella. I loved her with a passion not suited for a Winter fae. We’re cold beings. Anything warm is unnatural to us. Our hearts are carved from ice, left to chill by the snow. Our blood is blue as it flows through our frozen veins. We’re not capable of the true concept of love. Passion is too warm for us to truly feel. It’s that warmth which was my downfall as well as the heat from my rage. It’s snowing when Oberon’s sword plunges through my heart, carving through the already shattered pieces, rendering them to tiny flecks of dust. It’s that flurry that I gaze at as my blue blood leaks out onto the smooth ice of the frozen lake. Each snowflake is original, and they call out to me, guiding me away from the afterlife with a promise that if I yield to a higher calling, I can live to fight again. I grasp onto that promise as the snowflakes lift my body and take me away.
Chapter 4
Angelica
Somehow from last night’s planning to when I woke up this morning, my plans went from coming up with an epic strategy to take out the Masters at Crimson Blood Academy and presenting it to Zion to me going at it alone on a suicide mission. Well, not totally alone, which is the reason why I’m currently standing
outside Quinn’s dorm.
I took everything Zion said to heart. I hate that he’s right. So far, I haven’t done anything in this war but be a burden. Because of me, Kirito lost his Champion and almost died. Granted, I didn’t tell Quinn to go after him nor did I even know he had a Champion or was involved in this war in the first place, but I still feel responsible. Had I known his plans beforehand, I would have tried to stop him. I’m the reason why he went after Kirito in the first place. If I was more aware and not so self-absorbed with trying to make it into the top ranking, I would have noticed Quinn’s strange behavior and possibly realized sooner that he was in love with me. I know firsthand how possessive harlequins can be.
It has been one chaotic event after another. Finding out the truth about myself, everything that went down with Morganstein, fighting Quinn and killing him. I’ve been so wrapped up with myself, I haven’t even thought twice about the war or the heirs fighting in it. Then yesterday happened. If I were Zion, I would have done more than give me a tongue lashing. When did I become such a douche? Can females even be douches?
“Lovely, what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?” Quinn/Oberon drawls in a lazy tone, leaning casually against the door frame. He’s shirtless, the grey sweat pants he’s wearing dips low on his hips, showing off a sprinkle of light blonde hair to an impressive V. Biting my tongue, I snap out of my lust fog and focus on the task at hand. I can’t be looking at Quinn’s body like that. My newfound crazy ass feelings can be put on hold for now.
With a scowl, I snarl, “Stop trying to seduce me. This is not that kind of visit, playboy.”
“If you haven’t come to warm my bed, then why are you here?” he asks, sounding very amused with himself. He knows exactly what he’s doing and, like a harlequin, loves to play his games. I need to focus and keep in mind exactly who I’m dealing with.
“You said you came back here because you were bored and since leveling a whole kingdom and killing a queen is nothing to you, I thought you would like to go on a field trip with me tomorrow. It will be fun, I promise. I could use your talent for killing people.”
“I didn’t expect you to say that. Color me amused. Where exactly do you want to take me and why?” he asks, smiling wider. His hand reaches out to touch me, and I slap it away.
“Everyone is looking at us. Curious as to why I’m here. I’m sure by now, they all know Quinn is not my real brother and could think of only one reason as to why I’m here. It’s not like they had nice things to say about us before. I sewed a female mage’s mouth shut for calling me a brother fucker, and Quinn finished the job by slicing a smile on her face just for shits and giggles. She’s dead now. Soon, she’ll be forgotten completely.”
“Let's talk in my room,” he says, giving our surroundings a quick glance.
This may be the light mages side of the campus, but there’s no such thing as good mages. They’re going to make up their own version of why I’m here, but I rather not have bits of the truth hit the rumor mill and alert the heirs. I don’t need them finding out what I’m planning and try to stop me.
“I like to go on record that I’m not okay with this plan,” Archer says in my head. He already let me know many times last night of his disapproval.
“Well, look at you. Don’t you sound modern,” I joke, then sigh from his emotions I can feel like my own. He is not amused. Trying to lighten the mood will not work. “I’ve heard your reservations, and yeah, I agree, this is crazy. Stupid. Reckless. But I have something to prove. Not just to the heirs, but to myself. If I can’t deal with Crimson Blood, then there’s no way in hell I’ll defeat Morganstein and get my brother’s soul back.”
“This isn’t just mages learning how to play with magic you’re going after, but seven ancient powerful Champions. You’re powerful yourself in your own right, but it’s an uphill battle. Even with my help, we won’t be able to kill them all without getting injured or possibly killed.”
“I understand what you’re saying. That is why I’m here now, asking for Oberon’s help.”
“Angelica,” he sighs.
“Archer,” I huff just as exasperated with him as he is with me. “It’ll be okay. I’m not delusional. I know we can’t take them all down, but with a surprise attack, we have a chance to take out some of them. If things get too dangerous, I promise I’ll run for it.”
Taking advantage of me being distracted, Oberon pulls me into his room, kicking the door close behind him and pushes me up against the wall. With one hand braced above my head and Quinn’s hard body caging me in, I feel like his prey, but instead of eating me, he wants to devour me in other ways. Moving his face closer, his lips are a breath away from mine, and he gently rubs his thumb against my bottom lip.
“Fuck, you drive me crazy. I hate mages, but your brother’s feelings for you are so damn strong. I admire his restraint. I can’t even fathom how he was able to cage his cock around you because if it were me, I would have sampled that sharp tongued mouth of yours and cunt a thousand times by now. He makes the saying ‘my heart only beats for you’ plausible.”
“You’re not Quinn,” I whisper. My tone is low and breathy, and it takes everything I have to push him back when my traitorous feelings want to kiss him and take him up on his offer. “Even if you were, I wouldn’t be interested.” The lie is bitter on my tongue, but I continue on. “When I return his soul back to his body, he and I will have a sit down about our feelings for one another, but until then, I won’t be doing anything reckless or even remotely sexual with you.”
“Touchy,” he retorts, not fazed at all, keeping his grin firmly placed on my brother’s pretty face.
He’s such a cocky asshole and makes me want to scream and tear my hair out most of the time. Maybe it’s not his cockiness that gets to me, but the fact that he can get a reaction out of me. I can’t deny my racing heart before I pushed him away or the way his powerful green gaze holds me prisoner. Am I into the king I’ve invested so much of my time studying, or is it Quinn I’m thinking about? Even before I learned the truth about my parentage, our relationship has always been an unusual one. When we were pretending to be twins, we were always closer than siblings not entering a relationship with one another should be. I don’t know how long Quinn knew the truth about my origins. What I was too stupid to realize was that closeness was Quinn showing me how much he truly loved and cherished me, not like a sibling but a mate. We formed a relationship with one another. A bond so strong that even with his spirit gone, it’s still eternal. I love Quinn, but I’m still unsure of what kind of love it is. Recent events have caused me to question everything I thought I knew.
“Why do you fight so hard denying what your body clearly wants?” Oberon questions softly, almost tenderly. By the look on his face, he’s genuinely curious and not out to provoke, so I give him an honest reply.
“I don’t know what I feel for Quinn and giving in to you serves no purpose since you’re not him. You may look like him, sound like him, but deep inside, the soul that gives his body life and makes Quinn Quinn is someone else. You might be able to feel his feelings, but you need to keep in mind that this body is just a loaner. You can’t bond to something that was never yours to keep. Stop trying to understand Quinn and his feelings for me and focus on the agenda.”
“And what is that, lovely? I can take a guess as to why you’re here. You want me to help you in this waste of a time war you’re in, don’t you?”
“Yes.” There’s no point in lying. If I want his help, I’ll need to be honest. “I want to go after Crimson Blood Academy. As soon as they are taken down, the war will be over, and I can concentrate on what’s really important. Returning Quinn’s soul to his body and killing Morganstein.”
“You’re not exactly making it appealing to help you. In fact, it serves my best interest to sit back and let you go at it alone. If you happen to get yourself killed in this crazy agenda of yours, it’s all the better for me,” he surmises, and I growl agitated.
“It
doesn’t matter if you help me or not. I’m not dying. I have too much to live for,” I tell him, believing each and every word. I cannot die. I will not.
“Obviously not if you’re here asking for my help. You’re unsure of the outcome if you attack with the other heirs and their Champions.”
“That’s just the thing. I don’t plan on taking them with me, which is why I’m here,” I admit, shocking him no doubt.
“Now that, lovely, is just insane. Denying yourself has made you light in the head, but fret not. I’m sure I can fuck some sense into you.”
“I’m being serious,” I shout.
“Oh, I have no doubt you are. With a ludacris request like that, it’s hard to believe you’re not really a harlequin. Do you even know what you’re fighting for or have any idea what happened in the last war? Do you even know how the Mage Wars were established in the first place?”
“Sorry, I wasn’t around a hundred and fifty years ago or back when the mage race was first created,” I snark.
“That’s your mage’s problem. Why I have so little respect for your race. You never ask questions. Someone orders you to do something and, no matter what it is, you lot go along with it. The Mage Wars were created, so every hundred years or so, you send your offspring out to the slaughter for some grand power source that you’re not even sure exists. If the wish at the end is so great, why haven’t you ever heard of the last victor and what they obtained?”
