Storm Princess Saga- the Complete Series

by Everly Frost

  Howl’s big paws slip around my waist again, pressing tightly. What now? Surely he isn’t going to starve me of oxygen again.

  There’s a click. He leaves something cold around my waist. I jerk to a stop, staring at the metallic band he’s locked around me. I twist for the first time, following the chain that links from the back of the waistband to his wrist. It’s long enough to graze the ground but won’t let me move further than a few steps away from him.

  Anger flares. Lightning trickles across my palms. He thinks he can chain me? I can burn through this metal in seconds.

  As soon as my power is visible, Howl leans into me, nuzzling my neck and inhaling. Tiny swirls of lightning leave my skin and dance across to him. My eyes widen as he literally inhales my power.

  “Now you’re ready to present to court,” he says.

  The moment he pulls back, I prepare to light up my shackles but his big hand shoots out and grabs Carmen. She stifles a frightened shriek as he twists her arm, dragging her close and forcing her into an awkward half-crouched position. She tries to keep her balance while he squeezes her arm. He aims one of his deadly wing daggers right at her face.

  Tears drip down her cheeks. Beside her, Gilda has frozen to the spot.

  Howl barely looks at either of them. “Do as I say, Princess,” he growls at me. “Or death will follow.”

  I squeeze my eyes shut. I swear I will end this male. I just… can’t today. I fight my frustration as I open my eyes and nod. “That will be unnecessary.”

  “Good. Then keep your head down, eyes to the floor, and walk until I tell you to stop. No lightning. If you show your powers inside the Court, I will kill both females.”

  Unfortunately, I believe him. It’s not an idle bluff. The sheer terror on Carmen’s face tells me that. Howl doesn’t want anyone to appear as powerful as him. If I show the gargoyles what I can do, Howl will punish the defenseless females.

  Gilda grabs Carmen as Howl lets go, pulling her away from him and helping her back to her feet. Both of them give him a wide berth, practically brushing up against the guards who glare back at them. Of the two, I’d take my chances with the guards too.

  I begin to walk as he ordered. Eyes cast down. One foot in front of the other. The chain pulls taut and only then does Howl walk with me, making it obvious that he controls me.

  The guards fan out around us. Drums begin beating. In my head, the drums are Baelen’s heartbeat. It’s the only thing that keeps me moving.

  16. Marbella Mercy

  The drums don’t stop until Howl takes his place on the throne. He tells me to stand on his left while he makes a show of resting his arm on the side of the enormous ornate chair, allowing the chain to dangle between us like a challenge.

  As soon as we entered the Court, all talking stopped and silence descended. Which is why everyone hears him when he orders me to look up.

  Finally, I raise my eyes beyond the toes of my stupid heels and can look around for the first time. I find myself in an arena similar to the one I fought in during the marriage trials. Guards line each side and form a barrier at the back of the room. Their armor is decorated with the shadow panther crest, stylized black and silver.

  There must be at least two hundred gargoyles crammed into the space, divided into segments, roughly identifiably by their different clothing and appearance. The front segments are clearly for the free gargoyles, given that they are clean and well-dressed in fine garments, while the back segments are filled with workers—slaves in navy vests and miners… well, the miners are certainly interesting…

  Yep, they’re filthy. Even from this distance, I can see the dirt and dust coating their skin. But each one is large, imposing, and heavily-muscled. They appear strong despite Howl’s threats to starve them. In fact, a quick assessment of the miners compared to every other male gargoyle in this place tells me that Howl has chosen to send the strongest and the biggest to the mines. They look more like they belong in an army than penned in together at the back of the room.

  I appraise them and they stare right back at me, but I’m used to that. As the Storm Princess in Erawind there were always elves peering at me, whispering as I passed by. The difference is that I was surrounded by my Storm Command. Jordan and Reisha, my Storm Commanders, always had my back and my ladies were all taller than me so more often than not, I couldn’t see over their heads to notice the curious onlookers anyway.

  What I’m more concerned about is what’s behind me. The hairs on the back of my neck haven’t stopped standing on end since I reached the stairs up to the dais I’m standing on.

  I resist the urge to spin and see. Howl has deliberately placed Carmen and Gilda at the base of the dais, right where I can see the guards holding daggers to their backs. True to the rules, nobody else looks at them. I search the crowd for Jasper, damping down on the worry rising inside me when I don’t find him. I remind myself that the Storm is with him. Even if she can’t do much to protect him, I have to believe that he’s okay.

  Howl leans back in his chair, taking his time to speak, exercising his control even in dragging out moments of silence at his whim.

  “My people,” he drawls, speaking to the crowd like he’s a benevolent king and not a dictator. “I give you the elven Storm Princess.” He doesn’t bother looking my way as he gloats. “She is my prisoner.”

  If he expected applause, he must be disappointed. The crowd is completely silent as he rattles the chain between us. “Her power is no match for mine.”

  He stretches out a leg, making himself comfortable and seeming relaxed. “But her capture is not all we have to celebrate today.”

  He raises his free arm, signaling someone behind him. “Behold, my living statue.”

  There’s a sliding sound, following by the sound of flapping—is it cloth? Or maybe wings? I tense. I need to look around.

  Howl grins at me, not budging from his seat. “And my Phoenix.”

  He gloats up at me, daring me to disobey him. I fix my eyes firmly on his boots. Finally, he bounces out of his chair. “And the High Priestess.”

  He turns to survey his spoils, his wings half-spread, and I decide that’s permission for me to shift so I can see.

  My heart wrenches.

  Set out in a row behind me, crimson sheets are swiftly pulled off three large cages. True to Howl’s announcement, the first contains Baelen, the second cages the Phoenix, and the third houses a petite female I can only assume is the former High Priestess. Howl must know that she isn’t the High Priestess anymore, but if anyone else does, they aren’t saying anything.

  I hardly know where to look, especially when I see that Jasper stands beside the Phoenix’s cage, golden shackles like mine circling his wrists and ankles, connected by a chain that drops between his waist and feet. It’s a clever design that will force him to walk at a shuffle.

  “Oh, and another elf.” Howl waves his hand dismissively at Jasper. Despite the way he ignores Jasper, Jasper’s chains tell me Howl hasn’t forgotten that he took down almost thirty warriors single-handedly. Howl isn’t taking any chances with Jasper now.

  To my relief, Jasper looks unharmed, dressed in clean clothing—a simple set of black pants and a shirt. Take away the chains and he might even look comfortable. If he’s angry when his eyes land on me and quickly assess my own chains, he doesn’t show it. I’m also relieved to see the Storm, safe and well, gliding between the cages. She gives me a nod as she considers Baelen. “He’s okay,” she whispers. Even though nobody can hear her, she must feel the weight of the heavy silence in the room the same way I do. “So is the Phoenix. We’re all okay.”

  “It’s time to decide your fate, Princess.”

  My attention returns to Howl.

  “The time has come for me to decide what to do with you.” Howl resumes his seat and leans to one side, elbow on the arm of the throne, chin in his upturned hand, contemplating me. “I could hand you over to your people. I hear there is a country-wide search for you: a stormhunt s
o to speak.”

  When I left Erawind, all my friends and allies were forced into hiding. I’d sent them into the mountains behind Rath land hoping they would be safe there. I guess it was too much to hope that the Elven Command would just let me leave without searching for me.

  Howl continues. “Your leaders are calling you a traitor. They say you murdered one of the Commanders.”

  Gideon Glory had used sorcery to create the curse that was intended to force Baelen to kill me. It was Gideon’s sorcery that allowed the other Commanders to attack Baelen and nearly kill him. And yes… I’d killed Gideon, but in self-defense. However, the only elves who saw what really happened are now in hiding. I can only imagine the story the other Elven Commanders have come up with to brand me as a traitor and a murderer.

  “I also hear they are imprisoning elves who refuse to give up your whereabouts.”

  My stomach turns. I didn’t think they’d go that far. Nobody knows where I am. I didn’t tell anyone my plans. For my sake, that’s a good thing, but not so much for anyone being imprisoned.

  “But before I decide what to do with you, I want to know why you’re really here.”

  Howl sounds almost reasonable but it’s hard to breathe while I’m worried about my friends. I say, “I didn’t come here to fight you, King Howl.”

  “Then why are you here, little doll?”

  I consider my options. I could lie to him. Make something up. But that could land me in even hotter water. Baelen is safe right now. Safer than the rest of us. So telling Howl the real reason we came to Erador doesn’t feel like such a big risk.

  I glance at the crowd, finding a female in the first row whose gaze on me is so intense it’s almost burning. Chestnut hair flows across her shoulders. Her eyes are green like new leaves—just like Llion described her. She must be his wife, Lightsworn Liliana. She looks desperate and I know how that feels. Her gaze keeps flicking between me and the former High Priestess. According to Talia, Howl intends to make Liliana his queen once the High Priestess gives him the mark of the lawful king. Liliana must believe that her freedom now is very limited.

  The Priestess leans forward in her cage. She’s slight and bony, but her wings are some of the most beautiful I’ve seen. A rainbow of colors shimmers through them as she shifts close to the bars at the front of her cage. She has no power left—at least, not according to Talia—but her mouth moves and the hairs on the back of my neck shoot up again. Even without her power, her presence makes the air tingle. I read her lips and frown. I’m sure she mouthed: Elyria.

  Strange. It was the first thing Talia said to me, too. ‘Elyria’ is the Storm’s name but the High Priestess isn’t looking anywhere near the Storm right now. She’s looking right at me.

  From the Priestess to Jasper, the Phoenix, Baelen, Carmen, Gilda, and across to Liliana, I’m overwhelmed by how many lives hang in the balance around me at this very moment.

  Which is why I can’t try to spin a lie. Howl is like a spider waiting to trap me in threads of my own making. If there’s anything I can take away from the Priestess saying ‘Elyria,’ it’s that I don’t want to get caught in any web spun by Howl.

  I say, “We came to heal our fallen warrior. The one you keep there.” I point to Baelen. “If you allow us to access the deep springs, we will leave Erador as soon as he’s healed. You need never see us again.”

  Howl appraises Baelen with new interest. “Why would you risk your life for this male? Who is he to you?”

  “He is…” My love. My heart. The other half of me. “He is valuable to me and my race.”

  “Why?”

  I clear my throat, taking a moment to think. “Are you familiar with the elven Houses, King Howl?”

  “Of course.” He waves his hand dismissively. “Glory, Valor, Elder.” His lips twist as he peers at me. “And Mercy. I believe that is your House, Princess.”

  “Then you’re also familiar with the House of Rath?”

  Howl stiffens. His fists grip the armrest for a moment. “I thought that House was extinct.”

  “Almost,” I acknowledge. “Baelen Rath is the last of his line. It would be a tragedy if his House perished with him.”

  “This is Baelen Rath?” Howl leaps to his feet, wings partially spread. He thuds over to Baelen, assessing his face and the open wounds in his armor. I’m forced to move with Howl since the chain isn’t long enough for me to remain where I was. I clatter across the dais in my heels. Being this close to Baelen is painful.

  Being apart from him is painful.

  No… Being close to Baelen is more painful than being apart. I feel like I’m being tossed around inside the Storm Vault again. The closer I am, the more the storm inside me reacts to his presence. There’s a part of me that I have to shut off, shut down, and I have to do it fast because otherwise my power is going to shine through whether I want it to or not and that means bad things for Carmen and Gilda…

  Luckily, Howl doesn’t seem to notice. A deep crease settles on his forehead while he taps the heartstone at his chest. “Baelen Rath,” he murmurs. “Here. Now. Right in front of me. And I can’t kill him.”

  He curls one fist around a bar of the cage. It must be the hand that Baelen burned because it’s blistered across the palm. Despite pawing at me earlier, Howl has kept that hand clenched in a fist. No doubt he wants to hide the damage…

  I suck in a sharp breath as I realize he’s staring at me now. His piercing eyes cut through me all of a sudden, his focus pinpointed, raking across me like blades. “I should have known… You would not wrap your power around anyone else.”

  He grabs my wrist and yanks me toward himself, hissing, “Careful, Princess, your storm is showing.”

  I may not be able to see myself but I can sense it—a glow around my edges, a cool breeze that comes before a tornado. “I… need to… not be this close to Baelen…” Fear shoots through me, but so far Howl hasn’t ordered Carmen or Gilda hurt, so I rush on. “I can’t control it when I’m this close to him. I’m trying but I can’t—”

  “I see the thread,” he hisses.

  “What?”

  “You’ve spun a thread from yourself to him. Like a little spider. You’ve wrapped it around him a hundred times. It connects you.” Vehemence grows dark on his face, twisting his lips into a bitter line. “You think it’s unbreakable, but I will sever it.”

  He lets go so abruptly that I stumble backward, but he very deliberately starts winding my chain around his burned hand, pulling me closer with every turn, until I’m forced to turn and stand with my back hard up against his side.

  Jasper has clearly had enough and shuffles forward, pulling at his restraints, but Howl flings out his other hand, using his power to stop Jasper in his tracks. The Storm races to Jasper’s side, alarmed, but there’s nothing she can do.

  Howl swivels to the crowd and raises his voice to an angry shout. “We have been digging for heartstones for the past five years! But only one has surfaced. Only one!”

  At the back of the room, the miners remain silent, but a number of them shuffle where they stand.

  “I have done everything to motivate you!” Howl roars, pulling the chain so tight that my midriff pulls upward. “I’ve taken your wives, put your children in orphanages, starved you, beaten you, cut off your wings. And yet you’ve only brought me one heartstone.” He screams so loudly, he spits. “One!”

  He wraps his free arm across my collarbone in a vice-like grip. “So now I’m going to do something new.”

  My heart thuds inside my chest. I tap into my power, trying to anticipate what Howl will do next in case I need to protect myself—or any one of the many vulnerable lives around me.

  He roars at the silent onlookers. “Any gargoyle who finds a heartstone will win freedom for their loved one.”

  What? I didn’t think the arena could get any quieter, but everything stops. Freezes. Then heads start turning. They’re looking at each other, questioning. Like me, they must be wondering if they heard
that right.

  “There are twenty-seven more hearts!” Howl shouts, his mouth so close to my ear that the volume makes me wince. “That means there are twenty-seven chances to get back what you want.”

  His math is wrong. The Storm said there were thirty gargoyle heartstones and Howl only has one—that should leave twenty-nine. I don’t think about it any further though because he leans down to me, whispering into my ear. “You too, Princess. If you want your precious Baelen Rath back, you will find me a heartstone.”

  “Wh-what?”

  I try to pull away, catching his grin before he yanks me close again. His smile reminds me of a jackal that just ripped my heart out and is about to swallow it down.

  He says, “You’re going to the mines.”

  17. Marbella Mercy

  Everyone waits for Howl to descend from the dais—and me with him. He does everything except throw me over his shoulder, curling one large arm around my waist and dragging me along the pathway so that I stumble down the center of the crowd, barely able to keep my feet on the ground.

  As soon as we pass Carmen and Gilda so they aren’t in his line of sight anymore, I elbow Howl as hard as I can in the ribs. “Stop dragging me! I won’t fight you.”

  “But I’m having so much fun making you bump up against me.”

  Ugh. Seriously? “In front of your future bride?”

  Howl pulls up short as we draw parallel with the Lightsworn Clan. It’s pretty easy to pick the patriarch, Lightsworn Lance, who Cassian mentioned earlier. His skin is pale grey, fragile in appearance. He looks almost a hundred years old, but he displays the same bright-eyed depth of intelligence that Liliana does. The entire Clan is observing Howl’s display with barely disguised disgust. I’m not sure if that’s because they’re offended or because they disapprove of the way he’s treating me.

  Howl seems thrown for the first time, which surprises me. He glances between me and the crowd, heaving me up against his side. Rather than loosening his grip, he plasters me closer, one arm wedged against my back so that the Heartstone doesn’t touch me, while his other arm presses inward across my collarbone in a painful opposing force. His left wing curls around me like a curtain hiding me from view.