by Nora Roberts
She carried no lamp or candle, but slipped like a shadow through the castle. At the sound of approaching footsteps, she pressed herself against the wall, and through the veil of witch smoke watched two guards lead a serving girl toward Owen’s chambers. The girl’s face was pale as the moon, and her eyes dull with fear and resignation.
Aurora’s hand clamped on the hilt of her sword, her knuckles white with rage and impotence against the metal. She could not interfere, could do nothing to help the poor girl, for to do so would risk all.
But he would pay. She vowed it. As his father would pay for his treatment of innocence.
She hurried down the steps, easing through doorways, and slipped out of the castle through the kitchen. Drawing up her hood, she made her way to the stables under the cover of darkness.
The instant she was inside, Thane pulled her into his arms. “I worry,” he whispered even as his lips sought hers. “Every moment I can’t see you, touch you, know you’re safe, I worry.”
“It’s the same for me.” She eased back, just to touch his face, and saw the bruises. “Oh, Thane.”
“It’s nothing. Nothing he won’t pay for.”
Instinctively she touched the neck of her gown, thought of the marks of Owen’s hand hidden under it. “Payment will be made. I swear it. Come, and let’s pray that Gwayne and our army await.”
He lifted the door to the tunnels, but when he reached for a lamp, Aurora stilled his hand. “No. Tonight, we go by my light. It must be shown,” she said as she drew the crystal star from the pocket of her cloak. “To give those who would fight hope, to let them see what they risk their lives for.”
The star shimmered, and the light within it grew until it pulsed pure white. It beamed through the dark of the tunnels and became as bright as day.
And she was the light, burning with the power and purity of it. His throat stung, and his heart swelled with a mixture of love and wonder. “My lady. If my heart and my sword, if my life were not already yours, I would lay them before you now.”
“Keep your life, beloved, for a thousand stars would never light mine without you. I need my wolf.” She took his hand as they moved through the tunnels. “My lord of the stables. You know more of courtly matters than I.”
At his quick laugh she shook her head. “You do,” she insisted. “I was raised as a Traveler—educated, it’s true, by book, by battle, by journeys and song and story, but there will come a time when I must hold court. It plays on my nerves.”
“You are every inch a queen. It’s a wonder men don’t fall to their knees when you pass.”
“You love me.” And it warmed her to say it. “So it would seem so to you. It won’t just be a matter of defeating Lorcan, but of convincing the people of the world that I am true. The work is just beginning.”
“I’m used to work.”
It was Kern who waited at the end of the tunnel. He wore light armor and his battle sword. “They come, Lady of the Light. But first, I bring you greetings from the Realm of Magicks.” He bowed low. “And request to speak as envoy.”
“You are welcome, sir.” She glanced at Thane in confusion when Kern remained bowed.
Thane grinned, sent her a wink. He hadn’t been tutored by a faerie throughout his life without learning the protocol. “You do honor to your queen, Lord of Magicks. Greetings to you from the world of men. You have leave to speak.”
“Well done.” Kern rose with a twinkle in his eye.
“Meaning no offense, but can we speak freely here?” Aurora gestured with her free hand. “Men and faerie folk share the forest, and the night. I am not queen until I’m crowned, and I have much yet to learn on how to be one. What word do you bring from your realm?”
“I have a lengthy and lyrical speech prepared.”
“Lengthy it would be,” Thane assured Aurora. “I can’t promise the lyrical.”
“However”—Kern shot his student a steely stare—“I’ll cut it to the bone. The Realm of Magicks is at your command, Lady of the Light. We will fight with you if you’ll have us.”
“You haven’t raised your forces or your powers against Lorcan in all these years. Why do you offer to raise them now?”
“We’ve raised your wolf, my lady, as it was written. I am for him, and he is for you. The hour to do more had not come.”
“Faeries can die at the hand of men—and more, it’s said that Lorcan courts magic. Will you and yours risk all that is to come?”
“We have died at the hands of men, hands that follow Lorcan’s command. And some of us have turned from truth to embrace the lies. Some from weakness, some from fear, and some from the ambition for greater powers. Our kinds are not so different in such matters, my lady. We will follow the queen into battle. Will the queen trust my word?”
Aurora turned to Thane. “I’ll trust yours.”
“He’s as true as any I know.”
“Then thanks to you and your kind, Lord of Magicks. What you’ve said here tonight, and what you’ll do on the morrow, will never be forgotten.”
He took the hand she offered, bowed over it. “Your hawks provided fine entertainment in the night, Majesty.”
“There is little entertainment in this place. I craved some. And it served to keep Lorcan and his dogs’ eyes on the city, and away from the forest.”
“Now your white hawk approaches.”
She swung around and saw Gwayne step away from the trees, alone. Regal protocol was forgotten in the sheer joy of seeing him. She sprang toward him, threw her arms around him. “I’ve missed you! There’s so much to say, and little time to say it.” She drew back, studied his face. “You’re tired.”
“It was a long journey.”
“How many are with you?”
“We’re two hundred strong, but many of those are farmers craftsmen. Boys.” He gripped her hands, squeezed. “Some are armed with clubs, pitchforks, or simply stones from the fields, but they come.”
“Then they’re valued for it, every one.”
“They need to see, Aurora, to believe, for they’re weary, and some grow frightened. Without a stir of hope, some will scatter by morning.”
“They will see, and they will believe.” She reached back for Thane’s hand. “This is Thane, who is my mate, the wolf of my visions. And Kern of the faeries, who is his teacher and brings us word from his realm of their loyalty to the True One. Take us to the army, Gwayne, so they can see. And pray to the gods I find the words to stir them.”
Gwayne led them through the forest, calling a low signal to sentries already posted. The camp was rough, the faces of the men she saw pale with fatigue. Some were old, others much too young, and her heart began to ache with the knowledge of what she would ask of them.
She shook her head before Gwayne could speak. “I must do this myself. If I can’t do this, I can’t do the rest. They have followed you this far, my hawk. Now they have to follow me.”
Gathering herself, she climbed onto a wide stump and stood quietly for a moment while the men shifted and murmured and studied her.
“I am Aurora.” She didn’t lift her voice, but kept it low so the murmuring stilled as the men strained to hear. “I am the Lady of the Light. I am the queen of Twylia. I am the True One. The woman I am weeps at what has been done to the world, to the people and the magicks of it. My father, the king, was slain through treachery, and my mother, the queen, gave her life for my birth. I am from death, and my heart bleeds knowing that more death will come from me. I am a woman, and have no shame of tears.”
She let them fall silently down her face and glimmer in the moonlight filtering through the trees.
“I am Aurora.” Her tone strengthened as she loosed her cape and flung it aside. As she drew her sword and raised it to the sky. “I am the Lady of the Light. I am the queen of Twylia. I am the True One. The warrior in me burns at what has been done to the world, to the people and the magicks of it. I will not rest, I will fight unto death to take back what was stolen from me and mine.
My sword will sing into battle. I am a warrior, and I have no fear of death when the cause is justice.”
Once more she held the crystal star in her palm and drew from it, from herself, the power of light. Men fell back, or dropped to their knees as that light grew and grew until it burned like a thousand candles. Wind whipped through the forest, sent her hair flying as she held both sword and star aloft.
“I am Aurora!” Her voice rang through the night, and the bells began their toll of midnight. “I am the Lady of the Light. I am the queen of Twylia. I am the True One. I am a witch, and my rage for what has been done to the world and my people is cold as ice, is hot as flame, is deep as the sea. My power will light the dark, and it will blind those who stand against me. I am woman and warrior, witch and queen. I will weep and fight and blaze until the world is right again. And all who follow me will be remembered and honored until the end of days.”
She threw back her head and punched her power toward the sky. Light carved through the black, and spun in mad circles of golds and reds and silvers. And became a crown of stars.
“None but the True One dares to wear the Crown of Stars. None but the True One can bear its weight and its heat. None but the True One can give the world back to the people and the magicks. When next the moon rises, I will fight for the world and take my crown. Will you follow me?”
They roared for her and cheered. The soldier and the farmer, the old and the young.
She sheathed her sword and passed her hand over the star so that its light slowly dimmed. “Rest now,” she called out. “Rest and gather your courage and your might. I go with my hawk, my wolf, and he who serves the dragon to prepare for the battle.”
When she would have leapt down, Thane circled her waist with his hands and lifted her to the ground. “A queen shouldn’t jump from a tree stump after so stirring a speech.”
“I need you to remind me of those small details.” Her lips curved at the smile in his eyes. “And to look at me just like that, as often as possible.”
“I am at your service.”
“And now we need to gather our forces, and our brains. Gwayne? A quiet place where we four can speak?”
“May I serve here, my lady?” Kern asked, and at her nod, he flicked both wrists.
They stood now in a brightly lit chamber with a fire snapping in the hearth. Kern gestured toward a table and the chairs that surrounded it. “This is my rath, and a good private place for plots and plans. Be comfortable. Would you have wine?”
“By the gods, I would,” Gwayne said, with feeling. “It’s been a dry march.”
“And food?” Platters of meat, bread, cheese, and fruit appeared on the table.
“No warrior eats until all eat,” Aurora said and earned a proud look from Gwayne.
“Your men will be fed, Majesty. We are pleased to offer our hospitality tonight.”
“Then eat.” She slapped Gwayne on the back. “While I tell you what I know.”
She told him of the masque, of the dungeons, of the threat to Brynn and Dira, and with Thane’s help she drew diagrams of the fortifications and the locations of guards.
“Your father was a good friend,” Gwayne said to Thane, “a brave warrior with a true heart. He would be proud to know what you have done, and will do.”
“Most of my life I’ve felt he would be ashamed I hadn’t lifted my hand.”
“He loved your mother and you above all things. You have each sacrificed self for the life of the other. A man would be proud of such a wife, and such a son.”
“I don’t want those sacrifices to be in vain,” Aurora added. “Brynn and Dira must be protected, and Leia kept safe until the castle and city are back in our hands. Brynn and Dira’s presence will be required at the masque. I want at least one man each by their side, to shield them, then to escort them to safety with Rhiann and Cyra.”
“There’s an anteroom here.” Thane pointed to the drawings. “With a passage gained by opening this panel by a mechanism in the hearth. My mother knows of it. Either she or Dira could lead the way from there.”
“It must be done quickly, before Lorcan thinks to use them as a bargaining tool. Just as freeing those in the dungeons must be done quickly. And quietly. We strike there first, while the company is gathered in the great hall for the masque. When it’s done, we divide our troops. Into the tunnels to strike at the castle from the inside, to the walls—here and here?” She glanced at Thane for approval.
“The weakest points,” he agreed. “A breach could be made, and from those three attacks, confining Lorcan and his personal guard between.”
She rose as Gwayne and Thane debated battle strategy, and she moved to the fire to study the images she saw in the flames.
She could hear the beat of her own heart, and knew it beat for revenge. There was a lust in her belly for blood—Lorcan’s blood.
When she looked down at her hands, they were wet with it, and in her head were the agonized screams of the dying as her sword cut viciously through flesh and bone.
And in the flames she saw the Crown of Stars go black.
“Blood and death,” she declared when she sensed Kern behind her. “If I hunger for this, what manner of queen am I?”
“Having hunger and sating appetite are different matters, lady.”
“I want this, for myself. His blood on my hands.” She held them up, knowing Kern could see as she saw. “But it isn’t for the good of the world, is it? To seek to take a life, even such a life as his, this is not light. It is not why I was made. Not why I am here.”
“To see that is power, and truth.”
“And still, I know there will be blood, there will be death. Of those I love, of those who follow me. I send them into battle and to the grave. This is the weight of power. Tonight, I turned my back on a young girl, knowing she would be ill used. Because if I had intervened, I might have betrayed the greater cause. But is there a greater cause, Kern, than the fate of a single innocent?”
“I don’t rule. Such questions are part of a crown.”
“Yes, they are. I could do nothing else then. But now . . . It can be done another way. Am I strong enough to trust the crown instead of the sword? I’ve tested so little of my power to put such matters to it. To call the wind, a flock of birds . . .” She wrapped her arms around herself. “That’s a game, not battle.”
“And you know what your sword can do.”
“Yes. I spoke the truth. I don’t fear death in battle, but I fear the lives that will be lost on my account. And I fear what will become of me, and the world, if I take one if there’s a choice. Thane trusts you. So will I.” She closed her eyes. “Do you know what is in my mind?”
“I do, my lady.”
“And you’ll help me.”
“I will.”
“Then we will plan for battle this way.” She glanced back at her teacher, and her lover. “And hope for victory in another.”
10
THE castle, the city, the countryside made ready for the masque. The prettiest maids were gathered up and brought in to serve and to decorate—and, Aurora noted, to serve as decoration. Farmers were ordered to offer their finest crops or livestock to the king in tribute. Wine and ale were hauled in on wagons, and without payment, so that the king and his guests could revel.
Portents were spoken of only in whispers. Lights, such great lights, seen in the forest at midnight. The stars that had circled into a crown in the night sky.
Open talk of such matters could lose a man his tongue.
Lords and ladies from all reaches of Twylia traveled to the City of Stars for the celebrations rather than displease the king who held them under his merciless thumb. Some with eligible daughters sent them to the hills or into caves, or into the Valley of Secrets, risking death or poverty. Others brought the maidens and prayed that the prince would pass their daughters over for others.
There were whispers, too, of rebellion, but the king ignored such foolishness and basked in the glory of the feast
to come.
The dark glass showed no man who would claim his crown. And when he drank the blood of a sorcerer to bring visions, he saw only the shape of a wolf and the delicate hand of a woman who held the world in her palm.
He ordered his best hunters into the woods and the hills to track and kill any wolf. And garbed himself in his richest robes.
