Storm Princess Saga- the Complete Series

by Everly Frost

  “Healers!” Sebastian roars into the quiet. “We need healers!”

  Suddenly, healers flood the arena, racing to each of the champions, but Bae struggles against them. “No, I have to stay with Marbella.”

  Jasper and Sebastian coax him all the way to his feet as the healers cut Baelen’s armor from his body. Each piece drops to the ground in front of me and as his back is exposed, the cuts become apparent—deep and ugly, crisscrossing his spine, some so deep he’s lucky they didn’t sever the bone.

  “They fought dirty,” Jasper says to him. “Without honor. You can’t help the Princess unless you recover. Come on.”

  “Go, Bae,” I whisper, hoping he will accept their help, grateful when he does.

  I use the boulder as leverage to push myself to my feet. A female healer approaches me, but I shake my head at her. “There’s nothing you can do.”

  She retreats with a deep bow to me.

  The steel dagger rests in the grass. The only way I’m going to make it back to my quarters is with the Storm’s help. The cold steel on my fingers is like balm, the electricity an energy boost. I’ll crash soon, but for now, I stumble over to the dais, my body glowing.

  Teilo Splendor holds his head low, his hands limp at his sides. His daughter’s demonstration has clearly hit the mark with him. The others… not so much.

  “This isn’t the outcome you wanted,” I say, surprised at how calm I sound. “I don’t know why you’re targeting Commander Rath but—”

  “Because he refuses to follow orders!” Pedr Bounty thuds across the dais right up to the shield. He’s one of the two Elven Commanders who still has a champion in the trials now that the Houses of Elder, Glory, and Valor are eliminated. “The gargoyle threat is imminent but he refuses to act.”

  “What gargoyle threat?” I challenge, growing increasingly angry. “What are a few nests? You’ve hurt more elves in these trials—more champions on this day alone—than the gargoyles have hurt in hundreds of years!”

  Shame washes over his strong features, but he’s undeterred. “An invasion is only months away. We need to strike first.”

  “They’re not invading. They’re running away. Something’s driving them out of Erador and we are the lesser of two evils.”

  He scowls at me. “How do you know that?”

  I lean forward. “Because you sent me into a mountain with gargoyle nests on it and I happened to come across one.”

  He sucks in a sharp breath. The Commanders behind him react swiftly, shooting questions at me.

  “Tell us where it is!”

  “Tell us now!”

  “Why didn’t you kill it?”

  And last: “How did you escape?”

  I grind my teeth, refusing to answer any of them. “What does Commander Rath say we should do?”

  Pedr Bounty glowers. “He says we should send scouts across the border and gather more information before we make a decision.”

  “Well, that sounds wise to me.” Except that they won’t do it. They’re too proud and stubborn. I can tell by their expressions. “As for these trials… I’ll see you at the next one.”

  I make it to the doors. One of the guards has the sense to yell, “Stand back!” as he pushes the door open for me and keeps his distance from the electricity crackling around me.

  Jordan is right there with Elise, struggling against the guards outside. Two guards lie on the ground. Another is about to meet Jordan’s fist as she screams, “Let me through! Let me—”

  She races to me as soon as she sees me, calling the Storm Command who swarm me. I drop the dagger to the ground so I don’t hurt them. I’ve never been so happy to be surrounded by my nunnery as I am right now.

  “They wouldn’t let us in. Those brutes and their spellcasters…”

  I eye Elise with alarm. She’s bristling. Her hair is out of place, her dress is dirty, and her face is smudged. “If they’d kept me away from you for one second longer I was going to send them to meet the ancients.”

  She presses her lips together, her anger vanishing into fear. “I saw what Commander Rath looked like when they brought him out and I… I was so afraid for you…”

  I can’t tell her that I’m okay, because I’m not. I’m so far from okay right now, but I do need her help. “I need to know when Commander Rath recovers and I need you to give him a message. I want him to come and see me as soon as he can. Can you tell him that for me?”

  “Of course. Anything.”

  “Okay, then. Please get me home.”

  24. Marbella Mercy

  I peel off my armor in front of the mirror in my bathing room. My arms are dotted with black bruises. So is my collarbone, the skin between my breasts, and all across my ribs and stomach. The only mercy is that he left my breasts alone, preferring instead to slam his knife around them. On top of the bruises are grazes from the pressure of the knife point.

  Jordan prepared an ice bath for me and now I slide into it gingerly. The icy water stings and numbs at the same time. She also left me with a pitcher of water and about a thousand cups already filled along the wide edge of the bath.

  “Hydrate while you bathe,” she’d ordered. “I want every one of those cups empty before you leave this room.”

  I sip the first one, running my finger across the graze on the back of my hand. Such a small thing to make me drop my weapons, but they knew exactly where to aim. They’d planned it all in advance: how to disarm me, how to stop Jasper and Sebastian from helping Baelen, how to keep Baelen from getting to me. All while attacking me. Jordan had warned me not to underestimate my opponents, but I’d never expected them to fight without honor.

  I stay in the bath far longer than I should, untying my hair to float around me and obscure the bruises, my eyelids eventually drooping, my battered body finally numb to the throbbing pain. I don’t want to get out. I don’t want the pain to return. I wonder how soon I can ask Jordan to prepare another ice bath?

  Only a commotion outside the bathing room door startles me into action. Sharp conversation thrums through the wooden door. The sound of urgent voices slips into the bathing room, but nobody knocks.

  I lever out of the bath and gulp the final mouthful of the water Jordan ordered me to drink, reaching for my robe. As I wrap it around me, leaving the tie loose because of my aching ribs, I lean up against the door, trying to find out what awaits me on the other side of it.

  Elise sounds flustered. That’s twice today. Really not a good sign. “I know what I said, but I’m sure she didn’t mean right now…”

  I grab the door handle and swing it wide. “Baelen.”

  He straightens from a half-lean against a chair at the side of my bedroom, his focus zeroing in on me as soon as I appear. “You said to come as soon as I could. That’s now. I could. So I’m here.”

  He frowns, his forehead crinkling, and it’s suddenly so adorable that I can’t help but smile. I press my lips together, trying to stop. “But you must be hurt. You have to go back—”

  “No.”

  I swallow. “Not even if I order you? For your own sake?”

  “No.”

  “Then at least let Elise take a look at you. Elise?”

  She puts on her business face and doesn’t take any nonsense. He’s wearing a loose white shirt and blue pants buttoned at the waist. “Lift,” she orders, gesturing at his shirt.

  I’m not prepared for the sight of his bare chest and stomach. He may as well be sculpted from male perfection, his wide, fully muscled shoulders tapering through his broad chest to his waist, every part of him radiating strength.

  It’s not the wounds that freeze me, but the memory of his chest against mine, of skin on skin, and… it’s never enough. A little bit of me breaks apart, knowing that I’ll never have that again. He’s broader now, bigger, tougher than he was then. He carries scars he didn’t have before, and the sight of him makes my heart ache.

  I meet his gaze across the room. He hasn’t stopped focusing on me. Terrified
that he’ll read my thoughts, I shake myself, concentrating on the present. At least the new wounds across his chest are minor.

  Elise clicks her tongue. “That’s not too bad, I suppose.”

  “It wasn’t all my blood,” he mutters.

  “Turn.”

  He plants his feet, shaking his head, stubbornly refusing, but she lifts her eyebrows. It’s just her and Jordan inside my room so it’s not like my entire Storm Command is watching.

  “Please?” Elise asks.

  Slowly, he swivels and lifts his shirt again. His back has been cleaned, but the wounds are gruesome. I grind my teeth. The other males had found all the gaps in his armor, stabbing and shredding over and over.

  Jordan gasps. “Those cowards.”

  Elise sighs. “Okay, sit and lean forward, please. The healers have done an adequate job but I can do better.”

  For the next ten minutes, she works on his back while he rests his head in his hands, quietly accepting her help. She can’t spellcast his wounds because of the protective spells from the trials, but she’s deft with a needle.

  Somewhere in the middle, Jordan hands him a pack of ice for his face, which is showing up blue and yellow in places. By the time Elise has finished, I’ve found my way over to my bed, perching on the edge of it. My room is simply furnished with a large bed, a bedside table, and a small table and chairs on the far side, which is where Baelen sits now. Finally, his wounds are neatly stitched and patched to Elise’s satisfaction.

  “Better,” she says.

  Baelen raises his eyes up to her as if seeking permission to stand. I bury a smile. Elise has a way of commanding obedience but somehow manages to do it in a way that isn’t demeaning or offensive.

  I slide off the bed. “Jordan, Elise, I’d like you to leave us now, please.”

  “What?” Elise and Jordan both swing to me at once, the agitation in their rapid glances telling me they thought they heard me wrong.

  “I need you both to leave this room.”

  “I don’t think…” Elise starts, but Jordan is louder.

  “That’s not going to happen.”

  I say, “Please, Jordan. I need you to do this for me.”

  “No,” she says, eyes wide, clearly shocked. “I’m not allowed to leave you alone. I won’t break that rule. I can’t…”

  Her shoulders shake and her face suddenly crumbles. “I always follow the rules. Even if I don’t like it. Even if it breaks my heart…” She struggles to regain her composure, but the floodgates have opened and she can’t hold it in. My order has triggered all her emotions. She presses her hand against her heart. “I follow the rules even if it kills me.”

  “You’re right,” I say. “You always do the right thing. You didn’t speak to Sebastian when you could have all those mornings you saw him. You didn’t object when he offered me his heartstone, even though it broke your heart. You’ve never once made me feel guilty about it or blamed me for it. You have more integrity than the Elven Command. And that’s why I trust you right now.”

  Her eyes brim with tears, her head tipped forward, and shoulders slumped, but she doesn’t budge.

  “I won’t force you to break the rules, Jordan. So this is what I’m going to do instead…” I cross my room so that I’m standing just inside the entrance to my bathroom. “You aren’t breaking any rules now, because this is my bathing room. It’s the only place you’re required to leave me alone.”

  “The bathing room? Seriously?” She stares at me. Then she covers her mouth with a laugh-sob, swiping at her tears with her other hand. “Oh, Princess…”

  She glances at Baelen, who hovers nearby and is definitely as concerned about my intentions as Jordan is. He shakes his head, this great beast of a male looking like he doesn’t want to step in the wrong direction in case he breaks something. “I don’t think this is a good idea.”

  Baelen’s disquiet seems to have the opposite effect on Jordan. She appears to make a decision. “Okay, then.”

  Elise wraps her arms around Jordan’s shoulders and together they leave my bedroom, nudging the door closed behind them.

  I signal Baelen to step inside. “Commander Rath, if you will?”

  I’m not sure if he’ll follow me, but he crosses the distance with a worried frown on his face. I don’t take any chances. As Baelen clears the door to the bathroom, I close it and press up against it.

  He dwarfs the small space. The bath is full of water. There’s nowhere to sit. He can’t seem to decide where he should stand. If I were him, I wouldn’t know either.

  The same frown wrinkles his forehead, but he keeps his voice gentle as he says, “Show me, Marbella.”

  My hair drapes across the front of my robe, obscuring the damage that lies beneath. I draw it across my neck out of the way and slide the top of the robe across one shoulder, revealing the bruises.

  Baelen suddenly vibrates with tension, his Rath heritage surfacing. “I should have killed him. I will kill him.”

  “I didn’t ask you in here to show you this or to encourage you to seek revenge,” I say.

  He pauses, comes back to me, tilts his head, questioning.

  I run my eyes across his high cheekbones and the single unruly patch of hair at the side, the curve of his lips, and the cut of his jaw. He is hard and unyielding, never falling even when the other champions came at him with everything they had, but I remember when his lips weren’t pressed in such angry lines. I remember when they were soft and gentle, planting kisses against my throat.

  My breath hitches. I try to breathe normally as I take a step forward. He takes a step back, just like he should, except that he’s slow and reluctant.

  I say, “I need you to do something for me now that we’re alone.”

  His eyes light up and for a second I imagine the light of his heartstone burning inside him. He doesn’t take his eyes off me, running his gaze from my long hair draped across my shoulder, along the arch of my neck, down to the curve at my waist. The edge of my robe splits open at the bottom as I take another step forward, the material falling on either side of my thigh.

  He takes another step backward, but there’s nowhere to go now that he’s hard up against the wall.

  My heart thumps. I lift my arm. “I need you to take my hand.”

  25. Marbella Mercy

  “Marbella.” He closes the distance between us, but right when he’s about to touch my outstretched hand, he stops, caution flooding his features. “Why?”

  I can’t ignore the question in his eyes. “The Elven Command has been spinning a lie for centuries that a Storm Princess’s husband can share her power to help her in the Vault. It’s not true. It never has been. Except that now they believe it is true for me. They believe that the first male I choose to touch will inherit the power of the Storm.”

  “That’s why they came after you today, isn’t it?”

  “In the arena today, Garrett Glory told me he was ordered to take my power by force. I can’t let that happen. I won’t let them try again. I’m not even sure that I believe them, but if it’s going to happen, then it has to be my choice.”

  He studies the floor. “You want me to touch you so that someone else doesn’t.”

  I stop before I say “yes.” I can’t let him misunderstand me. I clear my throat. “When you bound yourself to me, and then you told me it was so you could tell me secrets, I felt the same way you feel now.”

  He remains pinned in place. “Which is?”

  “Like you cut my heart into pieces.”

  His eyes widen but I hurry on. “So I’m going to tell you right away… even though it scares me… I’m not asking you to take my hand so that I can get the better of the Elven Command or to beat them. I’m asking you because…”

  I take a deep breath, exhale, swallow against the dryness in my mouth, suddenly terrified, trying to calm my nerves. I focus on a point on his broad shoulders, not sure if I can find my voice if I look him in the eyes.

  “I’m asking yo
u as me. Not as the Princess. But as me, Marbella Mercy. I’m asking you to take my hand because I want you to. Because it’s what I want.”

  I finally look up and the agony on his face shakes me to the core.

  “Marbella, if I take your hand right now…” He turns away from me, staring at the water. Particles of ice still float on the surface, quickly melting. Deep concentration hijacks his posture and it’s like a wall shoots up between us.

  Without looking at me, he asks, “Do you remember…?”

  “Yes.”

  The corner of his mouth tugs up but only for a moment. “Then you know that I can’t take your hand.”

  He angles around me, maneuvering against the bath, bumping into the mirror, making sure he follows the widest path to avoid coming anywhere near me. I can’t do anything to stop him. He’s about to leave and I don’t want him to, but I have no choice.

  I let my arm swing down by my side.

  He stops beside me. “I don’t want your hand, Marbella. I want all of you.”

  Shivers run to my toes. The distance between us is agonizing. He’s hurt and I’m hurt, but I’d collide with him in two seconds if he gave me any indication that’s what he wanted.

  He says, “The only way I can have a life with you is if I win. If I touch you now, I’ll forfeit the trials and I’ll never have another chance.”

  I don’t think before I speak. “No, you don’t understand. I can’t let you win.”

  His sudden confusion crashes over me. I’ve given him every reason to believe that I want him to win. I can’t tell him that the protocols will only end in death: either he will try to kill me or I’ll have to kill him first.

  I whisper. “I can’t let anyone win.”

  “Why?” He searches my face, seeking an answer to explain my declaration. “Something’s wrong. Tell me what it is.”

  All the things I want to say rush into my head. The protocols are cursed. If I win, everyone lives. If I don’t, my husband will kill me and the Storm will be unleashed—unless I kill him first. And if it’s you… Baelen... I won’t be able to do it.