Richelle Mead Dark Swan Bundle: Storm Born, Thorn Queen, Iron Crowned & Shadow Heir

by Richelle Mead

A few victims later, I had my aim on someone when I sensed another form sneaking up behind me. I turned but wasn’t quite fast enough. He grabbed my arm and bent the gun away from him, forcing me to the ground. With my left hand, I managed to drag out the other gun. It was more or less smothered as his body tried to pin mine down, and I had no real target. It didn’t matter. I just sort of aimed in an upward direction and fired. He screamed and recoiled enough for me to push off and fire again with more precision.

  Someone else took advantage of my distraction and grabbed me from behind. I’d stuffed the extra gun back in my pants and now struggled against him with the first gun when suddenly it grew hot in my hands. Burning hot. I yelped and dropped it, staring as it lay sizzling on the ground, glowing faintly orange.

  I didn’t have to hear his voice in my ear to know who held me.

  “Eugenie Markham, lovely of you to pay me a visit.”

  “I’m going to kill you,” I hissed.

  “Yes, yes, you told me that before, and yet, I see it’s not really working out. You should have taken me up on my earlier offer.” He barked out a command to a nearby guard who ran up to us. “Disarm her before she kills anyone else.”

  With all the confusion, none of my other allies noticed what was happening. I opened my mouth and began chanting the ritual words to bring the spirits. They were currently too far out of range to simply hear me shout. Realizing what I attempted, Aeson threw me onto the ground, using his body weight to hold me while one hand covered my mouth.

  “Hurry!”

  The guard removed my athames and wand. For the extra gun, he wrapped his hand in the folds of his cloak to retrieve the weapon and then hastily tossed it away.

  “You’re a damned nuisance—and a deadly one,” muttered Aeson. “Keeping you alive for nine months may be more trouble than it’s—ow!”

  I didn’t see what happened to him but heard a thunk above me.

  “You used your power to toss one rock at me?” he exclaimed, an almost comic note of incredulity in his voice.

  “On the contrary,” I heard Dorian say pleasantly. “I didn’t use magic for that. I just threw it.”

  Aeson tossed me toward his guard, just as flames rose up from the ground. In the darkness, the bright light hurt my eyes, forcing me to glance away. Heat rolled off that scorching orange wall, instantly heating up my skin. The guard attempted to scramble back and hold me at the same time, doing a half-assed job at both, though he still managed—just barely—to keep me restrained.

  My gaze stayed on the fire’s flickering colors until I suddenly felt the ground shake. Jerking my head up as much as my restraint allowed, I saw a cloud of darkness rise above the flames. It crashed down, like the palm of one’s hand, and the fire abruptly went out, extinguished as pounds of dirt slammed it to the ground.

  Without missing a beat, Dorian gestured to the spot Aeson stood on. I felt shaking again and saw the earth ripple, like a wave of water moved under the surface. It knocked Aeson off-balance, and then a storm of rock shards—much as I’d seen with the nixies—swirled around, taking aim. Still on the ground, Aeson lifted his own hands. Waves of heat blasted away the rocks, scattering them in different directions. Some of them melted, dripping back to the earth in a molten shower.

  Ashes filled the air, and I could hear Aeson coughing as he stumbled to his feet. The ground trembled again, pushing him back to his knees. He supported himself with one hand and gave a shaking, raspy laugh.

  “It didn’t have to come to this,” he said. “If you would have just shared her, she might already be with child.”

  A shower of rocks spattered Aeson as Dorian strode forward. They weren’t razor sharp, but they looked like they hurt. The Alder King winced and shielded his face.

  “I don’t share,” Dorian said flatly. The earth near Aeson coalesced into ropes of dirt, winding their way around his limbs. Score one for bondage fetishes.

  “Too bad. You might have lived had you felt differently.”

  Aeson suddenly burst up, breaking through the bonds of earth. As he did, fire blasted from all around him, outlining him and then shooting forward. My scream was smothered in my captor’s hand as I saw Dorian fly backward. Aeson charged forward, his hands controlling and shaping the flames into a ring around Dorian’s crouching form. The walls flared up high and thick, so hot they gleamed blue and white. I wouldn’t have thought Dorian could survive that inferno, but Aeson kept talking to him as though he were still alive.

  “Too many theatrics, Dorian, and not enough strength left now to free yourself.”

  I looked around desperately. There weren’t many guards left. In the distance, I saw Kiyo nail some guy pretty handily—the man’s pain-filled scream affirmed as much—but he was too far to help, just like the spirits. I realized then my guard’s hold had slackened; he was apparently transfixed by his master’s showdown. Others, just as captivated, stopped and stared.

  Taking advantage of the guard’s lack of attention, I shoved my elbow back into his stomach and attempted to spring free. I didn’t really expect to achieve that goal, but it did uncover my mouth. I spoke the summoning words, and Nandi and Volusian appeared.

  “Get Aes—” I began, just before the hand slammed on my mouth again. Another guard joined mine to help with the confinement.

  The spirits shifted from humanoid form to something else, still vaguely anthropomorphic but more like a cloud of energy. They swooped toward Aeson, one shining and blue, the other black and silver.

  He deflected them with flames while still holding the walls on Dorian. An instant later, I saw a wand in one of his hands. No. He couldn’t—

  He spoke banishing words, and I felt the surge of power in the air as he tore open a hole to the Underworld. The form that was Nandi trembled and then exploded, disappearing in sparkles. She’d found her peace at last—and without another two years of service to me.

  “Call the other one off,” snapped Aeson, “unless you want to lose him too.”

  The hand on my mouth lifted. I hesitated. I had nothing to lose if Volusian won or lost. In fact, Aeson’s request likely indicated he couldn’t banish the spirit to the land of death. Gentry rarely had that kind of power anyway, so Aeson probably couldn’t do what I had been unable to do. But if he fought Volusian, it was possible he could have enough strength to break my control and enslave him as a minion. That was not an option. Better for the spirit to be destroyed than turned against me.

  “Hold, Volusian.”

  He retreated immediately, coalescing back into his normal shape.

  Aeson returned to Dorian. The Alder King held up his hand and brought his fingers together in a fist. The burning walls contracted, resembling more of a cocoon than a cylinder now. Through the crackling of flames, I heard Dorian scream.

  Helplessness choked my heart. Just like with the mud elemental. Just like with the nixies. I had no weapons and no freedom. This was exactly the kind of situation Dorian kept speaking of. The time magic would be handy. I couldn’t use it, however. My abilities included only miniscule water manipulation and out-of-control storms and their consequences.

  Yet, suddenly, I didn’t care about the consequences. I wanted to summon a major storm, a storm to devastate this whole area. Maybe it’d kill my friends and me, but things didn’t really look good for us anyway. Focusing my mind on that, I tried to recall the angry tempests I’d created before.

  Only…it didn’t work. Maybe it was because I’d never consciously done such a thing before. Or maybe it was because I could no longer see storms as a whole. They were pressure and charged particles and—most importantly—water. Dorian had taught me to compartmentalize the elements, and that’s all I could do now. I thought about storms, but all my mind did was reach out and touch all the water sources nearby. Damn it. Finding water did no good, not unless I could move a whole lake and douse the fire. I doubted I could command that much water, even if I had a source like that nearby.

  But I didn’t need one that big
.

  I only needed to summon a smaller water source, one my powers could manage. I refocused. My magic reached out, grasping and connecting with the water molecules I wanted. They recognized me, and I called them forward. They resisted a little. There were more of them here than had been in the pitcher.

  Obey me! I shouted to them. Come to me! I am your mistress.

  Only a few seconds passed while I struggled for control of the water. Meanwhile, Aeson was still holding his arms up, collapsing the walls slowly in what was probably a sadistic effort to prolong Dorian’s pain. Still, I needed the delay as I pushed and pulled the water more fiercely.

  A funny look crossed Aeson’s face just then, and he glanced around, as though trying to find something. Yet, he didn’t know what that was.

  Come to me!

  I could feel the water breaking free, unable to resist my command. A look of horror twisted Aeson’s face. His hands dropped and clutched his head, almost as if he would claw it off. Behind him the flames around Dorian abruptly faded and disappeared, almost as if a lake had dropped onto them after all.

  But as I’d noted, I hadn’t needed a lake. I’d only needed a smaller source. I’d needed Aeson. The water in him was a size I could manage, the source I’d called out to and commanded. After all, the human—or gentry—body is 65 percent water.

  And a moment later, all of it came to me. The other 35 percent didn’t.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  A fairy king’s explosion will sort of get everyone’s attention.

  I don’t know how they all knew I was responsible, but suddenly, the eyes of my allies and foes alike were on me as all fighting ceased. The guy holding me released his grip, backing up and away. Fear glittered in his wide eyes. It occurred to me then I’d nearly forgotten about my captivity while working the magic. The experience had actually been remarkably like when Dorian kept me tied up. Maybe there’d been more to that method than his own kinky tendencies.

  None of Aeson’s guards—the few who were left—moved from where they stood. I wondered if it was like in those films where killing the head zombie stops all the rest. Kiyo trotted up to me. Blood and dirt spattered his fur, but his eyes shone with eagerness and anticipation, like he could have fought all night. Volusian stood nearby, watching all with an unreadable expression on his face.

  Looking around myself, I received the full impact of what I’d just done. Whatever else wasn’t water in the body lay scattered out in a wide radius from where Aeson had stood. I recognized blood and bits of bone, but most of the debris consisted of slimy, nondescript blobs. Bile rose up in the back of my throat, and I worked to swallow it down. God, what a mess. No wonder the guards looked at me like some kind of monster. I had craved the strength Storm King’s inherited power could give me, but this…well, I didn’t know if I could handle this on a regular basis.

  “Sire!”

  Shaya came tearing through the trees, breaking into the clearing. She looked remarkably fresh compared to the rest of us, but then, she’d probably spent most of our battle time running back to us, once she’d set the trees in motion. She knelt beside Dorian, cradling his head. I’d almost forgotten him in the aftermath.

  Running over, I dropped beside her. To my surprise, he looked more dirty than burnt. His skin appeared to have the nastiest sunburn of his life, and his clothes had singed and melted in some places. He looked exhausted, like he could keel over at any minute, but he still had the strength to push Shaya away when he saw me.

  “I’m fine, I’m fine.” He struggled to sit up. “Eugenie—”

  “How the hell did you survive that?” I exclaimed.

  “Earth shield. It’s not important. Listen to me, you have to—”

  “Your majesty, we have to get you to a healer. We can’t stay here.”

  I nodded my agreement. “She’s right—”

  “Damn it! You’re both welcome to fuss over my body as much as you like later. Right now, you have to act.” Reaching out, he grasped my arm, fingers digging in painfully to make his point. “You have to act now if you want to put Aeson to rest.”

  I glanced around at the gore. “He’s pretty rested. And I don’t feel his shade. He’s gone.”

  Dorian shook his head. “Listen to me. Find his blood, er, what sort of passes for it.” He scanned and caught sight of a small puddle of water that looked to have some dark blobs in it in the poor lighting. “There. Touch it, and then stick your hand in the ground.”

  Shaya made a small sound of surprise.

  “Why…?” Bad enough I’d caused this mess. Now I had to touch it?

  “Just do it, Eugenie!” His voice was ragged but forceful, and he reminded me of the time he’d fought the nixies, hard and fierce.

  “He’s right,” came Volusian’s more subdued tones. “You must finish what you started.”

  Still not understanding, I did as they asked. The liquid was still warm, and I felt my stomach turn again as I dipped my hand in it. I sensed a tension in Aeson’s guards as they watched, but none of them intervened.

  “Now put your hand in the earth,” said Dorian.

  Frowning, I tried. “I can’t really go in. The ground’s too hard.”

  And then it wasn’t. My fingers sank in. It was easy. The previously hardened dirt turned soft, like quicksand, pulling my hand in until I was wrist-deep. I wondered if Dorian had done something magical.

  He shifted over to me. “Tell me what you feel.”

  “It…it’s soft. And, well, it’s dirt.”

  “Nothing else?” His voice surprised me. Anxious. Desperate.

  “No, it’s just—wait. It feels…warmer. Hot almost. Like it’s moving…or alive.” I looked up at him, frightened. “What’s happening?”

  “Listen to me, Eugenie. I need you to think about…life. Vitality. Picture it in your mind. Whatever setting makes you feel alive when you’re outdoors, makes you feel connected to the rest of the world. Cold. Rain. Flowers. Whatever it is, visualize it as sharply as you can. For me, that life is autumn on my father’s estate when the oaks are orange and the apples are ripe. For you, it will be something different. Reach out to that. What it looks like, smells like, feels like. Hold that image in your mind.”

  Still scared, I attempted to focus my befuddled mind into a coherent image. For a moment, his vision stuck in my head, the cool breezes and blazing colors of his land. But no, that wasn’t what made me feel alive. Tucson did. Dry heat. The desert’s perfume. The sun pouring down on the Santa Catalina mountains. The dull-colored stretches of sandy dirt adorned with splotches of green from low shrubs and plants. The colors and hues of blossoms on cacti after the rain.

  That was life. The world I’d grown up with and longed for whenever I was away from it. Those images burned into my mind, so real I could almost reach out and touch them.

  The ground below me shook. Startled, I jerked my hand out of the dirt, but the trembling didn’t stop. The land groaned, and before my eyes, it shifted and twisted. The guards’ low cries of fear came to my ears, and nearby, Shaya muttered what sounded like a prayer. The trees of the forest behind me melted, sinking into the ground they’d sprouted from. The green carpet of grass we’d fought on faded, replaced by gravelly dirt. A moment later, shrubby patches of grass shot up from that dirt, along with small, scraggly plants. Cholla. Agave. The land beyond the fortress rose, forming into sharp angles and plateaus, like the foothills of a mountain range. Thin pines grew on those slopes, covering it in patches. The moisture in the air dropped, and the temperature increased ever so slightly. Finally the cacti came, popping up everywhere, and they were covered in flowers. Too many flowers to be real. We never had that kind of an outburst, yet there they were, a riot of colors vividly apparent even in the dusky light of dawn. Saguaros sprang up among the flowering cacti, in a matter of seconds reaching the sizes that normally took hundreds of years.

  The land started to quiet, except for the spot beside me. It trembled from the force of something trying to ge
t out. I scrambled away lest it impale me. Moments later, a tree burst from the earth, springing up with unreal speed. Reaching almost twenty-five feet in the air, its spiky gray-black branches spread out. Purple blooms sprang all over it like a cloud or a veil.

  Then all went still. I gaped. I had a Tucson summer around me. Only it was better. The kind of summer you always wished for but rarely achieved.

  We all sat there frozen, peering around for what would come next. Only Dorian and Volusian seemed nonchalant.

  “What is this tree?” Dorian asked softly, looking upward.

  I swallowed. “It…it’s a smokethorn.” My mother had a couple of them in her yard.

  “A smokethorn,” he repeated, lips turning up in delight. I stared at him, still in shock.

  “What…what just happened?” I managed. The sweetness of mesquite came to me on a light breeze, heady and delicious.

  “He’s given you a kingdom,” said a clear, soprano voice. “You stole what I should have gotten.”

  Jasmine Delaney stood just on the outskirts of our little gathering.

  She looked wraithlike in the early morning light. Her strawberry-blond hair hung long and loose, and a form-fitting blue gown covered her slim body. Her wondrous, enormous gray eyes appeared black without full illumination. Finn stood next to her.

  I clambered to my feet. Beside me, Dorian did the same, albeit awkwardly. He touched my arm. “Be careful.”

  Something was wrong here, but I couldn’t put my finger on it yet.

  “Jasmine…” I said stupidly. “We’ve come to take you home.”

  Her lips formed a flat line, not exactly a smile and not exactly a grimace either. “I am home. After putting up with humans all that time, I’m finally where I should be.”

  “You don’t know what you’re saying. I know you think you want to be here, but it’s wrong. You need to come home.”

  “No, Eugenie. I’m saying what you should have been saying all along. I recognized my birthright, and I came for it. Whereas you…” She shook her head, anger kindling in her words. The intensity of that hate seemed absurd with her young, high voice—as did the fact that she’d actually used the word “birthright.” Too much time with the gentry. “You became the biggest rock star around here. You could have had it all, but you couldn’t handle it. You spent all your time bitching and moaning, acting like it was so hard to be you. It was stupid, but they all ate it up. Even Aeson did.”