Storm Princess Saga- the Complete Series

by Everly Frost

  I stumble through the next two doors. She can’t follow me into the Vault itself, so I fall into it, sliding to the floor. I curl into a ball at the edge and close my eyes, tears leaking onto the floor. I don’t try to stop them. Very soon the rain will wash them away. Or the wind will cast them back at me like a slap in the face.

  I speak to the storm. “Do your worst.”

  A breeze slides across me, caressing my skin, cooling the burning wound in my back. It lingers over my shoulder and waist where the bruises from the gargoyle remain. The wind swirls like ice, forming patterns above the surface of my skin, mirroring the shape of the gargoyle’s palms. The storm was a gargoyle once. The way it mimics the shape of the gargoyle’s palm is almost reverent. The shapes remain for a moment, great icy paws, before dispersing into the air.

  The breeze becomes stronger, strong enough to push me upward, turning me onto my side, dragging at the material around my shoulders. Something rips from my back—then the patch floats over me. It’s soaked in blood. Blood I didn’t know I was losing.

  Lightning crackles, striking the material while the wind holds it, burning it mid-air, destroying it.

  I try to call the lightning to me, but I don’t have the strength. I sink back to the floor, my hand dropping, as a bright bolt of lightning streaks from high above me, thick and white and sharp at the end that’s pointed at me.

  Before I can move, it strikes the wound in my back.

  Pain explodes through my shoulders and down my legs, burning my back, leaving me screaming. Just as suddenly, icy rain pours down around me, putting out the flames, easing to a soft patter like a sun shower. The pain eases as the ice numbs my back.

  Confused by the storm’s behavior, I open my eyes, squinting upward, but the rain shushes me.

  Your wound is cauterized, it says. Sleep now.

  21. Baelen Rath

  Marbella lies so still inside the Vault that I’m afraid she isn’t alive. Her hair is matted, her eyes tightly closed, her sleep so deep that her chest barely moves. The suit she wore to Scepter Peak is pulled down across one shoulder, a yellowing bruise in the shape of a giant palm resting across it.

  A gargoyle’s palm.

  I asked Jordan to double the guard around the corridor entrance to the Vault, but as soon as I saw the bruise, I asked her to triple it. I shouldn’t have been concerned about their desire to protect Marbella though. Her Storm Command are beside themselves with worry. Many of them refuse to leave, not even to sleep.

  I lean against the viewing glass, my breath frosting across it. When we arrived back from Scepter Peak, I followed Marbella in here to make sure she was okay, but she didn’t see me before she stumbled inside. She’s been asleep for nearly two days. In that time, the storm hasn’t raged once.

  I jolt as the door flies open behind me.

  “Baelen!” Elise hurries toward me. “The Elven Command is about to announce the second trial. They’re calling all the remaining champions to the indoor arena.”

  She casts a worried glance inside the Vault, where Marbella hasn’t stirred.

  Unlike when I first arrived, I’ve now caught up with all the rules and protocols. “Don’t worry,” I say. “Her presence at the announcement isn’t required. But you should come with me as her proxy.”

  Elise hurries beside me as we exit the Vault.

  Jordan gives me a nod as I leave. “Nobody will go inside,” she says. “I promise you.”

  When we leave the corridor behind, I say to Elise, “I’m grateful that Marbella has such a loyal Storm Command. And such a wise advisor.”

  Elise swallows, her long legs keeping up with mine. “She is more than our Princess, Baelen. She’s our friend. We will defend her with our lives.”

  She presses her lips together, as if she’s thinking hard about something. As we pass beneath a copse of trees in the middle of the courtyard, shadows fall across her face.

  “You can speak freely to me,” I say.

  She gives me a small smile. “Your visits to the Vault haven’t gone unnoticed.”

  I stiffen, then force myself to relax.

  “I’m not telling you to stay away,” she says. Just warning you. Marbella has made a difficult choice for good reasons. I know she cares… deeply… for you. She doesn’t want to see you get hurt.”

  I stop in the middle of the pathway. “Elise…” I meet her eyes. “I have no expectations. I only offer Marbella my heart and soul. It’s her choice what she does with that.”

  The worry doesn’t leave her eyes. In fact, it increases, but she remains quiet until we reach the indoor arena.

  The Elven Commanders stand on the dais inside the arena. I try to get a sense of their mood, an unsettled feeling creeping into my stomach when I see that they’re all wearing self-satisfied smiles. They’re far more relaxed than I expected them to be. Not only did Marbella defy them by entering the trials, but she saved the gargoyle on her side of the mountain. They didn’t get their war. The fact that they’re not more upset right now tells me they have something up their sleeves.

  The remaining champions and their advisors mill around the arena, which is completely bare of decorations. There are no spectators like there were for the Ceremony.

  I catch Jasper’s eye before I find a quiet spot at the side of the crowd with Elise. He and his advisor stand at the back and they both appear uneasy. I seek Sebastian in the crowd. He casts me a warning glance a moment before Rhydian Valor stalks directly toward me with a vicious smile on his lips.

  I refuse to react, settling into a casually defensive stance. Rhydian turns away at the last moment, abandoning his attempted intimidation to take up a spot at the front of the group.

  Osian Valor raises his hands for silence. “We will now reveal the second test.” He beams at us. “This will be a test of combat.”

  I stiffen. A murmur starts among the champions.

  “Combat…” Elise whispers at my side. “It’s supposed to be a test of wits second. Combat shouldn’t happen until the end…”

  Osian continues, “The remaining champions will present to this arena at the eleventh hour of the morning for a mass battle.”

  “A mass battle!” Multiple advisors shout at once. “This is unacceptable!”

  One of the advisors shouts above the others. “Surely, you don’t expect the champions to kill each other?”

  Osian gives him a benevolent smile. “Of course not. The champions may use any means necessary to force their opponents to yield. Any champion who yields will be eliminated from the trials.”

  Elise is pale beside me. “Any means?”

  “What means are acceptable?” Rhydian shouts. He glances around at me, a dangerous grin settling onto his features.

  Osian says, “Maiming, wounding, anything less than death.”

  Fear strikes through me. Marbella…

  I push through the crowd. “What about the Storm Princess?”

  Silence falls around me. Deathly silence.

  Osian’s smile is victorious. “The Princess is not immune. Any methods may be used to force her to yield.”

  Anger like lava boils inside me. My fists clench. I fight the crimson rage threatening to shade my vision. “You will not allow anyone to harm the Storm Princess.”

  Osian spits. “She chose to compete! She knows what will happen if she’s too injured to subdue the Storm. It’s her duty to decide what’s more important. We have already bent the rules to accommodate her. If she is afraid, she can bow out.” He casts around. “Where is she? Perhaps she has given up already.”

  He waves his hand in a dismissive gesture and each Elven Commander turns their back on us and stalks off the dais, leaving the arena in an uproar. It’s not just about Marbella. None of us expected to be fighting each other this early. None of the Houses are happy.

  Elise places a trembling hand on my arm. “Baelen… you have to protect her.”

  I cover her hand with mine. “With my life.”

  22. Marbella Me
rcy

  I awake on the floor of the Vault. The storm’s gone. It’s quiet. Except for that annoying thumping vibration slamming through my head…

  I open one eye. My head is pounding. I’m thirsty, but the storm told me the truth: the wound in my back is nothing more than a nasty scar now.

  The thumping vibration hasn’t stopped. If anything, it’s getting worse and more erratic. I spin, frowning at the transparent panels at the side of the Vault.

  I recognize Elise. She’s pounding her fists against the paneling. Her mouth is moving as if she’s shouting but the Vault is soundproof so I can’t hear her. Something’s definitely wrong. Adrenaline shoots through me and I jump to my feet, racing to the door and pulling it open.

  “Princess!” she cries, drawing breath. “The next trial! The next test is about to start.”

  My eyes widen. “How long was I asleep?”

  “Two days. I’ve been trying to wake you…”

  “Oh no.” I’m already running, flinging open the second door. “Which way?”

  Elise is on my heels, her silken robes flying out behind her. “It was supposed to be a game of wit, but they’ve mixed things up. It’s a mass battle in the arena.”

  I skid to a halt in front of the final door. “They want us to kill each other?”

  Her face is pale. “Maim, wound, defeat, and force to yield, but not kill. Those were their words.”

  My lips curl in disgust. “Then it’s a test for a torturer.” I slam my fist into the last door, frustration and anger burning through my nerve endings. “They’re doing this because of me. Aren’t they?”

  “The whispers are that the idea originated from the House of Valor.”

  Worry shoots through me. “Did Rhydian Valor make it through the first test?”

  “With only a moment to spare. But yes, he did.”

  “Then, it’s about revenge. He’ll go after Sebastian and Jasper first for humiliating him, and then he’ll come after me.”

  Now that we’ve stopped running, Elise shakes beside me, trembling so hard I can see her arms and legs wobbling. I’ve never seen her so scared. “Elise, what is it?”

  “The other champions won’t be cloaked. They’re allowed to touch you. They’re allowed to do anything they want to force you to yield.”

  I stare back at her. Wait… anything?

  She clutches the door. “You weren’t there when the Elven Command announced the trial. Rhydian Valor asked for clarification of the rules and the Elven Command gave permission for any methods to be used. I wasn’t allowed to speak. Commander Rath was silenced. He tried to speak for the other champions as well as you. This is bad for everyone.

  “Please, Princess, I knew you’d never forgive me if I didn’t wake you, but please… don’t go to this trial.” She reaches for me and her fear is like a solid force. “Please stay here where it’s safe.”

  “Safe for how long?” The storm’s whisper echoes around my head: Your husband will kill you. “Either they cut me to shreds in this trial. Or one of them tries to kill me in the end.”

  “Cutting you isn’t the worst they could do.”

  “I know!” I scream against the wooden door. “The Elven Command is trying to force me out. They want me to be so afraid that I won’t compete. Tell me one thing: while I was asleep, did the storm rage?”

  She shakes her head. “I’ve never seen it so calm.”

  “Then I might not have its power.” I need to curse. I need to shout and scream. But more than that… “I need my armor. How much time do I have?”

  For the first time, there’s a glimmer of hope on her face. She opens the door, revealing my Storm Command waiting in a protective semi-circle. Jordan holds my armor out to me. But her face is as pale and afraid as Elise’s.

  I say, “You hoped I wouldn’t open this door.”

  “I did.”

  “Cover me, please.” They close ranks as I strip off right there, sliding out of my damaged climbing suit and into the light-as-air armor. It covers me from my neck to my toes. I feel braver inside it. Let any male try to cut his way through this.

  Elise says, “You have three minutes before they close the doors.”

  I wish I could ask her to cloak my skin, but the spells that protect the trials won’t allow any spells to be cast over me.

  I don’t have to say anything. I start running and so does my Storm Command. Two of them sprint ahead to clear my path, giving me a clear run through the courtyard and out to the arena. Crowds of elves press around the outside of the building. The upper levels must already be full. No doubt word has travelled fast and nobody wants to miss the spectacle. The onlookers obstruct the doors. If I don’t make it inside in time, it will be because of the elves outside.

  My Storm Command screams ahead of me, the tips of their spears sporting blunted covers so they can use them to push elves aside. “Out of the way! Clear the doors!”

  Elves scramble backward, hurrying to obey, whispering and pointing. “The Princess.”

  From inside the arena, someone shouts an order. I recognize Elwyn Elder’s voice amplified by the spellcasters to be heard above the noise. “One minute to go. Close the doors.”

  I’m not going to make it in time. There are too many elves in the way. But the doors are large enough that there’s space above the elves’ heads…

  “Jordan, boost!”

  She sprints ahead of me with one of my other ladies. The circle around me opens up to allow passage through the front. Jordan drops to her knee in the gap and so does the other elf, facing each other with their hands laced over their knees. I race to them and use their hands as a spring board. At the same time, they stand up beneath me, propelling me into the air.

  I fly through the gap of the closing door, angling sideways to make it through. I roll on the other side and bounce up onto my feet.

  Elwyn Elder pauses on the dais as my arrival causes a stir. His hand hangs mid-air as if he was about to give the signal to begin. He’s definitely not happy to see me.

  An hourglass rests on a table beside him. It’s full of sand at the top which already drizzles to the bottom. I’m guessing that means our time has started. It’s too late for me to scream a veto at Rhydian Valor. Even if I could, eliminating him won’t do me much good—he has too many friends.

  The arena has been set up so there’s a protective shield around the dais at one end—a grand viewing area for the Elven Command. The rest of the crowd sits high above me on the upper levels, also protected by a shield. I’m assuming that’s in case of wayward arrows.

  Down at floor level, the space has been spellcast to resemble a forest. The other champions stand at intervals around the arena. I count twelve, including Baelen, Jasper, and Sebastian. I take note of Rhydian Valor, especially the fact that he seems to have been placed in an advantageous spot behind a boulder where he can take cover.

  Well, I guess that makes me lucky thirteen.

  “Princess,” Elwyn says, his voice still amplified. “We thought you were too injured to continue.”

  I stride through the grassy, green forest, twisting between the spreading trees and sparkling moss. It would be all unicorns and rainbows in this place if it wasn’t for the blood about to be shed.

  I don’t have the advantage of a spellcaster to make my voice heard, but as I reach the dais, I give it my best shot. “You mean you hoped I was.”

  My comment draws gasps from the crowd, but I’m beyond caring. I ignore Elwyn’s spluttering and lift my arms in defiance at the other champions.

  “Well now, which of you boys is going to be brave enough to attack me first? Because we all know that’s why we’re here.”

  Despite my bravado, I have a big problem: I don’t have a weapon.

  That’s okay, Marbella, I tell myself. You’ll just have to steal one. And let it have metal in it.

  23. Marbella Mercy

  Nobody moves.

  Rhydian licks his lips and disgust crawls all over me. Off to my lef
t, Baelen watches him and at least five other males whose grins make me want to throw up.

  I can see Baelen calculating each move, every step to get to them before they get to me. He’s wearing fine armor and carrying multiple daggers, a sword, and a bow and arrows at his back. His hands twitch to the dagger at his hip every time he looks at Rhydian. Baelen may have spoken up against this trial, but now that we’re here, maiming the other male won’t be enough.

  His gaze meets mine for a moment and the ferocity in his face scares me. He’s barely Baelen right now. He’s a Rath to his bones and the other males don’t know what they’ve asked for. He’s just waiting for them to make a move and give him an excuse.

  “Come on!” I scream, my chest heaving and fists clenched. There’s lightning inside me. I can feel it under my skin. The same way there’s a gargoyle’s growl in my throat. I just need a way to let it out. I just need a weapon.

  I roar at the other males. “You can either get a piece of me now or when one of you wins. Let’s get on with it.”

  Sebastian’s in a defensive position—he and Baelen seem to have figured out some way of signaling each other—but Jasper…

  I do a double take. Jasper’s actually smiling. Nope, more like grinning like an elven cat.

  “Holy lurking shadow panthers!” he shouts, drawing attention away from me. He leaves his position beside a spreading oak and strides toward me with a gusty laugh.

  “Listen to the mouth on this female.” He bellows each word, laughing as he goes. “I, for one, would rather take her for life than have a small piece right now and let it be the last.”

  He’s got within ten feet of me without anyone stopping him, close enough I can see the dagger he’s lifting out of the scabbard at his waist. Holy lurking shadow panthers, he hasn’t forgotten what I did with the last dagger I held and he knows I need a weapon.

  His mouth might be laughing, but his eyes aren’t. That’s the Jasper I know. With a flick of his wrist, he pitches the weapon neatly into the ground at my feet.