by Jamie Magee
Xavier was shouting words like ‘democracy’ as if that would be hell on Earth; little did he know that when I took my reign, I would ensure that was reached in this world. I had one purpose: to ensure they were all powerful enough to withhold one, that all self-doubt, all self-inflicted pain had ended—and equality was born. I was going to relinquish the dominion to the public. I wasn’t a fool. I knew it would take decades for my people to reach that point, to be able to make a unified decision that would satisfy all their needs, but I knew it could be done within my lifetime—or rather, the lifetime of my heir.
Which made Zander’s comment that I would not rule this dimension, but my heir, painful. This curse that what was haunting me stood to rob me of more than my vessel; it planned to rob me of my dreams. I could shoulder the grief of that realization, but I could not handle that my failure would let down and leave behind billions of souls who saw me as their last hope. This entire time, I had been fighting for them. Now I was fighting for them and the woman that carried half my soul, Madison Marie.
Ever since Zander gave me that flask, I’ve felt off. More on edge. Almost as if I were all too aware of the coldness building deep inside me. I was so focused on that, I barely noticed that his presence, Donalt’s, was absent for a few moments. That caused a warning signal to go off inside my heart. I stood from my desk and started to walk to the wing I knew Madison Marie was in. I was nearly running when the presence came back all at once. I slowed my pace, finding relief for the first time ever that he was with me—for if he were with me, he wasn’t hurting her.
Zander was approaching me now. He came to my side and strolled along.
“You want to tell me what happened at dinner?”
“Whatever could you mean?” he asked with a poorly hidden smirk.
“Was that you, another staged event?”
“I had nothing to do with tonight. I assure you, your queen had complete control of that situation.”
I felt that cold deep inside wave through me.
“What was in that flask?” I asked him in a low voice as we walked through the vacant halls.
“You wanted a remedy.”
“It’s worse.”
“Then I suppose that would cause the remedy you need to heal it to surface.”
I felt a wave of powerful energy move through the air. I stopped in my tracks, then moved on. It was only Landen. Here lately, I could sense him from a mile away. His energy carried that much power. I knew I felt Draven here, too.
“Landen has arrived.”
Zander glanced to his side at me. “Sensing their whereabouts is becoming easier to you.”
Their. I didn’t tell him I knew Draven was here, too. Sometimes I wondered if he meant to slip up like that or if he were silently testing me to see if I was paying attention.
“Why do you suppose that is?” I asked in a knowing tone, even though I didn’t have a clue.
“Suppose you are all rising to power, becoming aware of who you must defeat and why that is so vastly important to the Creator Himself.”
“We have been aware of who we had to defeat from day one.”
“Landen was.”
“What are you trying to say? Siding with Alamos now? Saying I’m too lovesick to see the good of my kingdom?”
“No. I’m saying some enemies are easier to see than others…that, and your path has been unnaturally crossed with other fates in the hopes that you will all self-destruct—but each of you are managing to turn what was used to hurt you into your advantage. Quite brilliant.” Zander peered forward. “I’m interested to see where intent and fate will lead us all from this point.”
He was leering at a man that was walking past us, one that was at the dinner tonight. He couldn’t be much older than me. He wore a royal collar, so I assumed he was related to someone at that feast we had tonight, but something else was familiar about him. What, I didn’t know. I just knew I didn’t like him.
“You’re telling me that you can’t see where all this is heading?”
Nothing.
“Does this have anything to do with the seven deadly emotions? Seven kings that must fall?”
“This? You mean what Madison is contending with? No, I told you she has to focus on your beginning in order to save your now and protect your future.” I started to argue with him to be clearer, but we had reached the wing that was made for Madison.
“Your fellow kings are awaiting you.”
Fellow kings. Thanks for the hidden message, Zander. I stared at her doorway for a long moment before walking to her library and descending the stairs to the bottom level to where I knew Landen, Draven, and the others were waiting on me.
~ Madison ~
The guards that were still dry, along with Chrispin, led us back to our wing. Considering that we were soaking wet, they chose to lead us down back passageways. We emerged in the hallway that led to our wing in less than two minutes.
At the end of the hall next to the double doors, Britain was leaning against the wall. A cart of food was next to him.
“You need help with that?” Chrispin said coldly as he pulled his shoulders back.
“No, man, sorry to jack up your night. I’ve got this,” Aden responded dryly.
Chrispin nodded once, then he and the others leaned against the walls, giving me the impression that they were not leaving us unguarded tonight. So much for exploring.
Aden glanced at me as we walked. “Does he not understand what the word ‘no’ means?”
“Never has before. Why should he start now?”
Aden halted in the hallway as rage rippled off him and his tall, lean body tensed. “Are you telling me that he has forced himself on you?” he fumed.
“He’s still breathing, isn’t he?” I answered as I passed by Aden and gestured for him to stop, to let me deal with this. Grudgingly, he stayed a few steps behind. Once I reached Britain, Aden gave us all of six feet of privacy.
“What are you doing here?” I asked Britain with an exhausted sigh.
He glanced over my dress, which was wet from my tank top and briefs. “What have you been doing?” he asked as concern filled his eyes.
“I always go for a swim after dinner; helps me control my rage.”
“Rage?”
“Yeah, rage. It ticks me off when boys feel me up while I’m trying to eat my dinner.”
A near sinful smile came to the corners of his lips. “I touched your knee. I just wanted you to know I was there and no one was going to hurt you.”
“It was dinner, and I was very aware that you were there. Don’t make me ask you again to leave me alone. I’m sure Anna is wondering where her Prince Charming is.”
“How many times do I have to tell you that I used that girl to get your attention? That I knew you would come when you felt my anticipation?”
“And I told you it was not my idea to come there.”
“I don’t buy it. You can act tough all you want, but I have known you across far too many lives. Your eyes give you away—they always have.”
“Well, right now they should be telling you that I don’t give out second chances.”
“You will get over it eventually. Right now, I’m just trying to keep you alive, salvage what is left of your power.”
“Right, your source of food. Must suck to know that your ticket to rule that Realm is null and void. I’m not giving you anything.”
He moved forward in the same slow, commanding manner that he had always used with me. “I don’t need you to rule anything.” His eyes moved across my furious image. “Fate brought you to my doorstep. Literally. I knew Charlie was special, but I had no idea she was harboring you. That she would hand deliver the one girl that has had my attention for the better part of an eternity. I’m not going to stand by and watch you allow Drake to destroy you.” He raised his head to look down at me over his chiseled profile. “I’m here as a friend. We’ll work on the rest later.”
“I’m detaching myself from friends cu
rrently. That includes you.”
“You are bewitched. Right now, you are walking into this prison with your stomach empty and you have the audacity to think it is your idea.”
“I’m going to bed. Alone.”
“Fine. Tomorrow, let me know how comfortable Willow’s bed was.”
“Will do.”
My smug response ignited something in him, and in that instant I was against the wall with my arms pinned above my head. “This attitude is going to kill you,” he breathed down my neck.
One nod from me sent him flying backward. There, he met Aden, who flung him against the opposite wall a second before he charged him, holding Britain in place with his forearm. “I’m sick of watching her tell you no. You have two choices right now: walk away, or let’s take this to The Realm and end this argument once and for all!”
Britain smirked as he pushed forward. I couldn’t tell if Aden had let him go or if he had overpowered him. The shock in Aden’s emotions led me to believe that whatever strength Britain had displayed was unprecedented, at least in Aden’s mind. I’ve always known that Britain was far more powerful than he let on.
“None of this has anything to do with you. Stop hiding from your own hell.” With that, Britain adjusted his suit, glanced at me, then sauntered down the hall.
Aden glanced at the cart, and with his energy he sent it soaring down the hall, barely missing Britain. I felt sorry for anyone that was in that vicious cart’s path.
Aden pointed to the door, telling me he was done with this day. Of course it opened with ease, and once the door closed that stainless steel bar fell into place.
Simply because I had far too much doubt mingling in my thoughts, I pressed the lever that I’d seen Alamos touch—and sure enough, the door opened with ease.
“Good. You’ve figured out how to work the door. I’m going to bed.”
“Thanks,” I mumbled.
He glanced over his shoulder at me. “Maddie, this is your business. I don’t know what is real or not with you, but make sure you don’t confuse yourself, that on the inside you know who you are.”
“My head is swimming.”
He smirked as he looked over my damp dress. “It always has been. Do your thing, and you’ll be fine.” He took one last long gaze into my mind, into that conversation I had with Donalt, then turned and briskly walked to his room. A few seconds later, I heard the beat of his drum sticks against what sounded like stone. That was his thing—his release.
I glanced around the vast hall, hearing Britain in my head, him calling this a prison, him telling me that I was sleeping in Willow’s bed. I thought about chilling on one of those couches that centered the hall or finding a reading nook in the library, but I finally decided that if I did, that would be my way of saying I believed him.
I made my way to my room. After the door was closed, I let the dress fall to the floor. I was too waterlogged for a shower and too restless to settle down. I was sure that I wouldn’t see Drake again tonight. He had a few thousand souls to save.
My mind kept going over what Donalt had said to me about my first death. None of it really made sense to me. The only reason I was hung up on it was that Drake had mentioned hearing a crying child in his dream and Donalt had confirmed that there was a baby there. The question was: what were both Drake and I doing here, and how in the hell did unearthly kings come into play?
Now that it was dark, the flaming water amplified the room. Knowing that I was basically in my underwear, I nodded to the drapes around the window and urged them closed.
I walked closer to the nearby basin as I studied where that water fell from, how the fire remained unscathed. Wondering if it was real or artificial fire, I blew air against the water; the spring bowed inwards, touching the flame, but as it did a power pushed through the fire and it became stronger than before. Maybe that was how you turned it up…I wondered how you turned it down.
I felt around the stone basin, looking for a knob or other obvious way to control this art. In the stones, there were large circles the size of saucers. It was easy to spin them, and before long I had all twelve of them off. Inside, I could not only see the liquid, but smell a seemingly familiar chemical aroma. I didn’t want to touch it, but my curiosity was driving me mad.
Finally, I came to the obvious solution. With my energy, I called what was in the closest cylinder up. When the glow of the fire shined through the liquid, I could see a beautiful shade of lavender. Shocked by my discovery, my energy got away from me and the color moved against the water. The lavender swirled around the dome, creating one of the most beautiful scenes I had ever witnessed.
Curiously, I glanced at the jagged stone floor and walls; creativity struck me then. My energy swayed more of the color into the spring of water, then I guided the colored water to the stone floor and with my eyes I demanded the course I wanted the paint to flow. It looked so edgy, so sharp and unreal that I felt a high absorb my body. I always felt this way just as I lost control on my projects, just before I found a much-needed release.
I beckoned more colors out of their cylinders, had them merge with the spring, then guided them to the ridges on the floor. Curious about the other two basins that made up the triangle of these firewater lamps, I went to undo their lids, finding even more colors to play with.
Before long, every ridge in the floor and walls was marked with its own little valley of paint. I had moved this paint so fast, commanded so many streams of them that more than once I had managed to get in the path of them. Every color was across my bare skin, my tank top, and briefs. I loved the feeling of it, of being one with the art.
The room was no longer laced with royal conformity; it was alive with color, it had become living art. With a glance, I moved one of the rugs over to the floor that had dried almost instantly. I took a stance on that rug, then covered the gray stone floor with a mass of paint. I was far too eager this go around. The paint pooled. Wanting to use it, not to let it waste, I called the pool of color up. It rose up in the form of a small tornado as it spun in place. That high took over once again. I made more pools of paint just so I could make more funnels of color. It reminded me of a clay pot shaping into some unseen beauty.
I found myself laughing and jumping in place as I managed to control four of them at once.
Somewhere in that madness, I felt fire bloom through my soul. My heart began to thunder long before I turned to glance over my shoulder. Standing just before my closed door was Drake. He had lost his suit jacket. His shirt was rolled up on his strong forearms, unbuttoned so I could see the undershirt he had on that shaped every part of his sculpted chest.
It was a wonder that my funnels of paint didn’t fall to the floor and wave over my feet.
I held his stare as he moved closer to me. I felt my breath catch as I forgot all of the doubt his absence had brought and I remembered our day together.
Still high on my creative flow, I demanded that some of the paint move to him, that it swirl around the perfection that he was. As it teased his approach, a wicked smile came to his lips. He didn’t stop his advance or dodge out of the way of the paint; he let it stain his priceless suit as if it were nothing more than rags.
When he reached me, he held my gaze as he seductively grasped for my neck. His hand slowly rose and pulled out the pin that was still holding my hair back in the proper way I had worn it to dinner. As the long, dark strands fell down my back, he pulled a lock of it forward and bathed it in the wet paint that had pooled near my collarbone. A breathtaking smile came to his image. “You found your paint.”
“Redecorated,” I said under my breath, hoping that he could not hear the thunder in my chest.
“Put us in our own world, Madison Marie,” he whispered as he leaned in and teased my bottom lip with the soft flesh of his. He playfully bit down, and when he did an explosion of passion erupted inside of me. As I pulled him closer to me, I demanded that the paint surround us as we stood on this irreplaceable rug.
I
urged his shirt off, then pulled up his undershirt just so my lips could meet his chest. He sighed just before he reached down and picked me up, wrapping me around his body.
All around us, there was a curtain of paint; it was of every color. They never merged, holding fast to their originality as they shielded us in a breathtaking canopy.
I arched up around him, pulling his lips into a deep kiss. I felt his hands rush across my back. When he urged my tank up, I felt the paint on his hands caress my skin. Within the next heartbeat, we had fallen to the floor and the war of who was in control of this passionate embrace began. I would only give in when I needed my breath, when his touch was too enthralling to fight against. When he let me have control, I showed no mercy. I found every weakness on his body and exploited it. I discovered more than once that he was insanely ticklish.
We managed to roll into the wall of paint a time or two, but he would just arch his strong arms around me and pull me back into our canopy. We were both slick with paint; every color of the rainbow collided against our bare skin. I couldn’t have imagined a more sensual way to hold him. One thing was for sure: nothing with Drake Blakeshire was ever ordinary.
Laughing and near breathless, hours later we lay side by side on the rug, which was stained with an array of colors.
“I don’t want to waste the paint,” I said as I pursed my flushed lips. I knew as soon as I let it go that it would pool and never dry. I wanted to freeze it around us, for it to imprison us within its beauty.
“Then don’t,” he murmured as he kissed my forehead.
“Am I missing the obvious?” I asked as I rolled to my side to gaze down at him. I reached to trace the lines that had dried on his face.
“Guide it to where you want it to go,” he said in a deep whisper.
“I have no idea how I’m still holding it up. Telling it to go back home is not going to be an easy feat.”
