Storm Princess Saga- the Complete Series
Page 79
Indira grimaces, but when she spots Erit waiting for her outside the Royal Residence in the distance, her focus changes. “On that happy note, if you’ll excuse me, I need to meet the other clan leaders. Stuffy old males.” She strides away from us but throws a final word back to Baelen. “You look better without the beard.”
Baelen’s humor died with the first mention of the Elven Command. “Grayson Glory possessed a talon crow to attack you, Marbella. It’s possible they’ve been using shadow panthers even longer than that. Maybe for years.”
I survey our surroundings. “Why does it feel like the night has eyes?”
He’s grim. “Because it might. From now on, we only talk in places we know are safe.”
I sigh. “I wish Elise was here.” She used to drop us into sound bubbles so nobody could hear our conversations. But something even worse occurs to me. “Llion and Liliana went to the border to get their children. What if there are more shadow panthers there?”
Baelen tries to reassure me. “They are both skilled warriors and they have Talia to protect them.”
“I don’t know… Llion was worried about the Elven Command’s sorcery before he left. He wasn’t certain that Talia’s power could defeat it. After what I saw today with the talon crow—”
Something tugs at my back. It’s quick and sharp, a pull so strong I stumble backward, losing my footing. Baelen is fast to react, his hand tightening on mine and his other arm swooping around me, keeping me on my feet.
“Marbella? What just happened?”
A quick check behind me tells me there’s nothing there. But I definitely felt something attached to my back. My frightened eyes meet Baelen’s. “I don’t know—”
My heartstones shriek a warning in my ears.
The powerful force tugs again, but this time, the pull is so strong that I fly backward, my feet wrenched out from under me, yanked right out of Baelen’s arms. My stomach lurches and my surroundings blur with the speed of movement. I’m flying through the air before I know it.
Lightning shoots through Baelen as he harnesses his power in my defense, leaping after me, arms stretching, but he’s already far away.
“Marbella—!” His alarmed shout cuts off.
Darkness closes around me and everything goes black.
16. Grayson Glory
I harness my power to travel long distances within moments, arriving at my destination within the Revenant Mountains before I can blink. The gargoyle Marbella protected during her marriage trials is nested here. There was a time I refused to attack him, but my options are limited now. He and his children are the leverage I need against her.
Putting away any guilt I feel about my intentions, I tread carefully between the cliff faces that form a walkway into the nest. It’s a clever location, the entrance hidden from the eye due to the angle of the rocks. Pebbles are scattered along the walkway, a simple alarm system, but I harness my power to float above them.
My approach is whisper-quiet.
I stop at the entrance into the nest, reaching out with my senses to determine the location of its inhabitants. A soft blue glow from Elyria web radiates from the deeper part of the cave. I sense three adults located toward the back of the cave, not the single one I thought I’d find, but their number does not concern me. Gargoyles may be bloodthirsty creatures, monsters according to the Elven Command, but they don’t concern me. I used talon crows to search Erador for signs of Marbella for a month and the gargoyles I saw during that time showed me that they’re vicious creatures with little regard for each other. Granted, I only saw them from afar, but their rock-like bodies and their behavior toward each other confirmed my beliefs.
My intention is to capture the gargoyles in this nest, not kill them, but I won’t hesitate to attack if it’s a choice between them or me.
The front of the nest is an open area, empty for the moment, allowing me to creep inside.
A soft sound reaches my ears and I spin.
The most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen glides from inside the cave. She has the appearance of an elf but with rounded ears, and her wings… I catch my breath, mesmerized at the way her silver wings refract the moonlight, her long golden hair falling across her back between them. She has a perfect button nose, a rosebud mouth, and emerald eyes that are suddenly wide with fear and focused directly on me.
She’s frozen like I am, her gaze passing from my eyes, to my lips, across the golden runes decorating my chest. I’m naked from the waist up, my shoulders and muscles so broad and bulky that I had to turn sideways to fit through the opening.
What is she?
She turns to face me fully and I finally see the baby she has propped on her hip. It’s another creature just like her, a perfectly formed little girl with silver wings. Surely, she can’t be a female gargoyle?
This can’t be so. Female gargoyles are just like males, skin like rocks, bloodthirsty, ugly creatures.
This female is too perfect for me to believe my eyes.
Fear quickly consumes her expression. “Who are you?”
“I’m here for the gargoyles.” I jolt at the way she tore the truth from me.
Her lip curls. “You will not harm us.”
The air ripples around her, a power I’ve never felt before, a power reminiscent of Marbella’s but not the same. This is raw and consuming like moonlight streaming right into my bones.
It’s a distraction.
I duck and roll, narrowly avoiding the giant fist aimed at me from the side. Now this is the kind of gargoyle I know. I pivot and blast my power outward, forcing him to leap away from me to avoid it.
The side of the cave explodes as my power hits it, pieces of the rock wall flying outward.
The male doesn’t waste time with words. His wing daggers descend one after the other, deadly attacks that I swerve to avoid. I harness my power again, this time casting a containment sphere around him—a large translucent bubble that lifts him above the ground. He shouts, slamming himself against it, but there’s no way out. He has no idea the favor I just did him. He would have died if he touched me.
Another female races forward, a baby boy in her arms, and a dagger in her fist. “You will not harm my children.”
So this is the mother.
Unlike the first female, I don’t sense any magical power around this chestnut-haired female. Her weapon hand shakes and her gaze darts to the child and back to me. The way she holds the weapon tells me she knows how to use it, but she’s afraid of fighting with her child in her arms. She’s equally afraid of putting him on the ground.
I take the burden of choice away from her. My power erupts, encasing her and her child in another containment sphere.
Then I turn to the female with the golden hair.
“You will die for this, elf!” she says. This time her power is like darkness, sucking all light out of the cavern. It shoots through the air, taking on the form of a black spear. I don’t understand the magic she’s using. I have no way to know if it can kill me. I react on instinct, flinging my power out, smacking her against the rock face.
She hits her head and collapses.
The spear disintegrates.
Above us, the babies float safely in the air, unharmed. I ignore the gargoyles in the containment spheres to hurry toward the female on the ground. They both press up against the sides of their spheres, their focus on the unconscious female, their shouts inaudible from the outside.
With my back to them, I release the hold I have on my emotions, allowing my intense shame to wash through me. My power is too strong and the golden-haired female is so delicate. I hit her too hard, much harder than I meant to.
Racing to her side, I quickly cast a spell around myself to protect her from my power so I can safely check her over.
Thank the ancients. Her pulse is steady and the cut on her head isn’t life-threatening. My power tells me she doesn’t have internal bleeding.
I was lucky. Her death would not have sat well with me.
My features harden as I remind myself why I’m here. I have my leverage now. She fought to save this gargoyle and his children once before. She will do it again.
It’s time for the Storm Princess to answer for Gideon’s murder.
It’s time to force her to come to me.
17. Marbella Mercy
I hit the ground on hands and knees, thrown out of the force that transported me. It feels like my insides have been rearranged, everything moved so fast. I gasp air into my lungs as my surroundings become clear. I’m not outside the Residence anymore.
I’m lying on a cliff—a very familiar cliff. Two soaring cliff faces obscure a walkway that is only visible from an angle. This is where Llion’s children were hidden: all the way across the border. Somehow I’ve travelled hundreds of miles in seconds.
A voice beside me smirks. “Every time we meet, you’re on your hands and knees.”
I scramble to my feet, twisting to face the speaker. A male elf towers over me only two paces away. He has platinum blond hair that is shaved short around the back and sides but is longer on top with a jagged fringe ending above his pale olive eyes. His face is almost angelic: perfect cheekbones, perfectly full lips, and a strong jaw to match. He stands naked to the waist, his sculpted chest tattooed with golden runes to enhance his power.
“Well met, Storm Princess. Or should I use the gargoyle salutation and say ‘Greetings, Lady Storm?’”
I narrow my eyes at him. Only the gargoyles call me ‘Lady Storm’ and it worries me that he knows that. How many days or even weeks has he been spying on Erador through the eyes of predators?
He rests one hand on the scruff of a shadow panther. The beast is pure white, crumbling into dust as I watch. He must have drained the life out of it to bring me here. Three more shadow panthers sit obediently a step away, their silver eyes vacant of any natural instinct. I shudder as I realize that he has complete control over them.
“You’re Grayson Glory.” He’s a lot more solidly built than Gideon was. Males in the House of Glory tend to be tall, slender, and lethal without the brute force of other houses like Valor and Bounty. Grayson is tall but he’s surprisingly bulky and well-muscled. Baelen and Jasper are the only other elves I’ve met with broad enough chests to rival a gargoyle’s but Grayson’s comes close.
I demand, “How did you bring me here?”
“The Mercy Heartstone knows you, Marbella, and now it obeys me. I can drag you to me whenever I want.”
Oh, great. He thinks I’m his puppet. Well, he may have taken me by surprise this time, but I’m determined that it won’t happen again. He must have access to the Mercy Heartstone right now or he wouldn’t be able to use that sort of power on me. But where is it? The bastard is half naked. He’s certainly not wearing the heartstone in plain sight like Howl always did.
I retort, “Like hell you will.”
“Why are you so unhappy, little—”
“Do not call me ‘doll!’” So far he’s called me ‘Lady Storm’ like my friends and now ‘little doll’ like Howl used to talk to me. I take a step closer to Grayson, daring him to touch me. I may not be able to kill him or stop him toying with my location, but I sure as anything can make his life miserable. And once he uses up the three panther lives, he’ll be all out of death to sustain his sorcery.
I fill every angle of my body with threat as I say, “I killed the last male who called me that name. Come to think of it… feel free to call me whatever you want. I will kill you regardless.”
At the same time as I step forward, I angle slightly to scan my surroundings. The cavity where Talia and the babies lived yawns empty on our left; the side of their home is nothing more than a jagged opening that looks like it was blasted apart. The rest of the cliff is shadowed and difficult to see. The moon definitely doesn’t glow as brightly in Erawind as it does in gargoyle country.
At least my friends aren’t here. I hope they were long gone before Grayson arrived.
My voice glides into the narrow space between us. “How about you send me back to Erador before I kill you?”
He tilts his head to the side, wipes the dust from the dead panther across his muscled thigh, and pins me in his frosty-calm gaze.
“You don’t think that you can break.” It’s his turn to narrow the gap between us, taking a step toward me. “Everyone has a breaking point. I will find yours.”
I let his threat wash off me, edging nearer to him. His arrogance has allowed me this close. I just need to be a little closer. I drop my voice to a gentle whisper. “Why don’t I find yours first.”
He doesn’t step away, standing his ground instead, a smile tugging at his mouth. “Feel free to try. You will fail like all the others.”
His confidence is unsettling. So is his comment about others trying to break him. But I’m not letting this opportunity pass. He’s too far away from the shadow panthers to draw on their lives to give him power to sustain his sorcery. Only his forced tether to the Mercy Heartstone will protect him now and it’s time to see how strong that protection is.
My palm shoots out and connects with his chest. My power slams through it and I pour all my destructive thoughts into the contact. If there’s a time that I want to destroy something, it’s now.
Grayson jolts as the force shoots through him, burning light crackling across his shoulders, racing down his arms and legs. The runes on his chest light up golden, glaring brightly in the darkness. I pray for him to fall, collapse, die, anything. I remember Howl: how he’d screamed and burned and shattered. But Grayson remains standing.
His hand closes over mine, pressing it flat against his chest, imprisoning it there. It’s almost as if he doesn’t want the contact to end. His eyelids lower as he tugs me closer, chest-to-chest, only our arms between us. His other arm slips around my waist, palm resting lightly against my lower back as my power fades. “I think I’ll call you Marbella. That suits you best.”
I grit my teeth. His touch against my lower back presses and releases, his hand finding a spot to rest where his thumb can graze back and forth against the curve at the top of my hip: Baelen’s favorite spot. I try to calm myself, pushing back against the strong desire to unleash everything I have against this male.
Since he seems happy to explain things to me, I ask, “Tell me how you’re still standing right now.”
Please don’t tell me the Mercy Heartstone is this strong…
For the very first time, his expression loses its chill. A hint of anger glints in his eyes and his perfect lips transform as he growls, “Most elves need to kill a living creature to use sorcery. But I was born into death. It’s in my bones. I’ve had this power from the day of my birth. Both my mother and twin sister died that day.”
My Virtuous Heartstone flares in empathy but I shut it down. There will be no pity party for this elf.
He continues. “It was her own fault. She wasn’t built to carry twins. She should have known better than to have an affair with a gargoyle.”
My eyes widen. “You’re part gargoyle?”
That would definitely explain his larger physique.
He says, “Except that unlike others, my mother didn’t keep it a secret. I’m told she was proud of her love.” He lowers his eyes to mine, his lips so close to me that his breath tickles my cheek. “You can imagine how I was treated growing up as a known half-caste.”
Jasper is part-gargoyle too, but nobody knew about it and his grandmother never shared her secret. Senturi was right when he said that elves and gargoyles don’t look kindly on gargoyles and elves falling in love with each other. Not every female elf who falls pregnant to a gargoyle will have twins—Jasper’s grandmother didn’t. Mixed race children take after their moth
er so it’s easy to hide their heritage. Grayson’s mother obviously didn’t take advantage of that fact—maybe she didn’t know and thought the truth would be revealed as soon as her children were born. Or maybe she didn’t want to hide it. Either way, I can imagine growing up being mistreated. Every elven child in a minor House knows how it feels.
I say, “I’m surprised the Elven Command appointed you.”
“I’m the second natural sorcerer ever born in our history. I convinced them I was their best chance at controlling you.”
“Controlling?” I narrow my eyes. “Not killing?”
“Not yet.”
I frown, because something’s not adding up. “But you killed the talon crow today and the panther just now. If you’re a natural-born sorcerer, why did you have to do that?”
“The talon crow was a vessel—a means of speaking with you. It died because of its contact with my sorcery. And it’s true: every death gives me more power. But the panther, on the other hand… I touched it to stop it from killing something else.”
He steps back, positioning himself at my side, his arm remaining around my waist, a light touch that suddenly feels like a dead weight. The darkness lifts across the cliff. I’m horrified to discover that the shadows weren’t natural after all, that it was a trick of the light—Grayson’s trick.
Three translucent spheres float above the ground. They resemble giant, pearly globes. Two of them contain female gargoyles: one is Talia, lying on her side, unconscious. The other is Liliana, holding her babies close, her wings tucked around the little boy and girl while tears track down her cheeks. She sees me, gasps, calls out, but I can’t hear her. The final sphere contains Llion who is a ball of rage. He slams his wing daggers against the sphere. They cut through and for a moment I think he’s going to charge out of there, golden eyes blazing, but the sphere seals up as fast as he can cut it. His shout makes it out for a split second as he slits the sphere with both wing daggers and slams his fists against the side.
“Lady Storm! Run!”