by Kim Stokely
He pauses for several seconds, his eyes narrowing with concentration as if trying to envision the destruction the Chrysaline might wield. “You may speak with the bastard.” With a quick tilt of his head, he sends Lord Rafer out of the tent. “How inconsiderate of me. Would you care for a cup of wine while you wait?”
“No, thank you.”
Caradoc reaches for the metal jug in the center of the table. “I would love some.”
Braedon slaps his brother’s arm down. The wine sloshes over the rim. “I did not offer it to you.”
Caradoc rubs his wrist but only sits on one of the wooden chairs next to the table and pouts. What part did he play in Kyran’s abduction?
“You seem to find my younger brother fascinating.” Braedon interrupts my thoughts. “I assure you, he is even more loathsome than I.”
“I think you’re right on that account.” I blink and turn my attention back to Braedon. “I also wonder what the rest of your father’s children are like. As far as I can tell, Kyran is the only one lucky enough to take after his mother and not Lord Donagh.”
Braedon tries to pierce me with his icy gaze. “My father bred cunning and intelligent warriors.”
Caradoc punctuates his brother’s statement with a soft belch.
I snicker. “Perhaps that intelligence skipped a couple of you.”
Grabbing a fistful of Caradoc’s shirt, Braedon lifts him from the chair. “Get out.”
“What did I do?” Caradoc whines as Braedon pushes him toward the tent’s opening.
“Get out of my sight.”
Caradoc winks as he stumbles past me and I wonder again whether or not he can be trusted. Unlike Kyran, I have no history with Caradoc and still don’t know for sure where his loyalties lie.
Striding back to the table, Braedon leans against its corner. “I would offer you a seat.” He nods toward the stools. “But you do not seem to want my hospitality.”
“For once, you’re right about what I’m thinking.”
He folds his arms across his chest, his expression one of sadness. “My one regret is that you did not come to me first when you first arrived to Ayden. Your thoughts were tainted against me by your family and the Elders. I never had an opportunity to prove myself to you.”
A sharp laugh escapes my throat. “You did plenty on your own to taint my opinion.”
He shakes his head. “But only after you had already refused my honest advances. I had been willing to share the rule of Ayden with you, Alystrine. With you as the rightful queen and me by your side as your faithful king, this land would have had peace.” His eyes bore into mine. “It still can. There is no need for our people to battle tomorrow.”
His pull is strong. His voice filled with passion and hope. His words cloud my mind momentarily until my memories break through. How he used people I cared for—jailed, tortured and killed them. And he bred the Black Guards, born from the unholy unions of demons and humans, to terrorize anyone who dared to defy his will. I’d been their victim, both physically and mentally, and I vow as Braedon tries to stare me down, that no one else will ever have to experience that hell. “Your words would go a lot further to convince me if you hadn’t proved to be such a liar.”
He lets out a growl of frustration, pushing himself up from the table. Quinn immediately strides to my side. Braedon sneers before he turns away and stalks over to the jug of wine he’d offered earlier. He pours himself a full goblet.
Alystrine? Kyran’s voice gently enters my thoughts.
Where are you? Are you okay? Have they hurt you?
The seconds of silence that follow my questions fill me with dread. I sense another presence near Kyran. Dark and malevolent. Influencing him? Listening to us?
I am . . . well. The words sound forced.
Stay strong. I’m going to free you.
No! I reach out to a tent post for balance as Kyran’s outcry pounds in my brain. Braedon must not get the Chrysaline! You cannot fathom the beasts the Ovates have called—
My knees nearly buckle as someone, or something, silences Kyran. Quinn places his hand on my shoulder but I shake him off and whirl to face Braedon. “Leave him alone!”
He watches me from over the rim of his goblet. “You have heard from the bastard already? Impressive.”
“Hurt him and I promise, I will kill you.”
Braedon chuckles then takes a long sip from his goblet. “Bring me the Chrysaline. And I will set the bastard free.”
I block Quinn’s ability to Mind Speak with me. “Tomorrow morning. When we meet on the Plains of Sharne. I’ll give you the Chrysaline when Kyran has been safely returned to me.”
“Alystrine,” Quinn calls. “You cannot do this. You cannot give it to him.”
Braedon slams his goblet down, the sound echoes through the tent as he stands. “Shut up, Portal. She has made her choice.” He reaches across the table. “Give me your hand to secure your word. You will give me the Chrysaline before the battle tomorrow.”
I pull away from Quinn’s grip on my shoulder. “When Kyran is returned to me. Alive.” I pause, thinking of how I can phrase what I’m going to do without alerting Braedon. “I will surrender the Chrysaline.”
Braedon smiles in triumph as he grasps my hand. His confidence radiates, filling me with fear.
I pray I’ve done the right thing.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Do You Believe?
It is late morning when we position our army on the plains of Sharne. The brown, hard-packed earth bears little resemblance to the tall-grass plains I traveled just a few short months ago. Then, I walked with Uncle Devnet and the healer, Andrew. Then, the sky had been the bright, almost neon blue of early autumn. Now, a gray sky looms overhead. Somewhere, unseen behind the clouds, the sun must be burning. It’s difficult to tell when everything else is a monotonous gray. Then, I hadn’t known loss. Now, Andrew, Josh, and my mother are dead. I’d hoped to find a way to get me home to Connecticut. Now, Ayden is my home. Everyone I love is here.
As we march out from the trees, a shadow rises on the horizon. Fear pricks my skin. Taunting. Painful.
Evil approaches.
A murmur of alarm grows behind me as my soldiers feel the malevolent power of the Mystic army. I can’t see the demons clearly yet, but I know they’re there. Called up from the depths of the Abyss to strike me down. Annihilate my army. Enslave my people.
Salaan balks, wanting like me, to bolt. My knuckles turn white as my grip tightens on her reins. Naill pulls up on one side of me. Geran on the other. Neither man speaks as we guide our mounts farther onto the plain.
Kyran? Are you here?
I sense him near. In pain. But I can’t hear him.
The prickling on my skin intensifies. A rushing sound of wind fills my ears. I lift my hand up to stop the army, but continue forward until the Portal I perceive is coming actually appears.
He is the youngest I’ve seen. Clean shaven, like most of the Mystics. His skin is the same rich brown as Kyran’s, but his eyes . . . his eyes are so light they are almost yellow.
He laughs when I shiver. “It is good you are afraid.”
I draw myself up in the saddle. “I’m not afraid of you.”
He sneers. “You should be.”
Now it’s my turn to chuckle. “Confident, aren’t you?”
“I have reason to be. You cannot defeat the demons we have called.”
From the saddlebag resting against my leg, the Chrysaline burns. The Mystics may have a horde of evil behind them, but I have Ruahk. He has promised he will fight for me. For us. “Oh, I know I can’t.”
The Portal extends his hand. “Give me the Chrysaline and your crown. With them, I am sure Braedon will accept your surrender.”
The men around me grumble. A kind of heroic courage in the hopes of pushing away the vile energy coming across the plain. I raise my hand again to quiet them. “I’m not giving up. I’ll never stop fighting you. But you don’t have to defeat me. You have to de
feat Ruahk.”
The Portal surveys the soldiers behind me. “Ruahk is a distant god who cares nothing for the fate of Ayden.” He waves his hand dismissively. “Even he cannot best the army of monsters we have called forth.”
The Chrysaline lets off a burst of heat that burns my leg. I let out a yelp of pain, grateful for the leather tunic I’m wearing that keeps me from getting seared. Scorching through its cloth pouch, I manage to catch the orb before it falls to the ground. It cools as it touches my skin, the swirling colors within turning from bright orange to a deep indigo color.
Even though it’s cold to the touch, the energy flowing from it is hot and powerful, waking every molecule of my body. “Where is Kyran?”
The Portal takes a step back. “Give me the Chrysaline and your betrothed will live. If not, his throat will be cut on the altar of Aeron. The blood of his sacrifice will please our god, who will then grant us victory.”
With the energy of the Chrysaline filling me with courage I let out a harsh laugh. “There’s no way I’m giving this to you.”
His yellow eyes darken to gold. “Then the bastard will die.”
“If I give it to you, he’ll still die.” I hold his golden stare. “How about we parlay in the middle of the Plain?”
“What?”
“My father, Naill, and I will meet Braedon, Caradoc, and Kyran without our armies. A truce for the moment. Once I’m convinced Kyran hasn’t already been killed, we’ll talk about giving Braedon the Chrysaline.”
“Alystrine,” Geran growls beside me. “You cannot give it to the Mystics.”
The Portal’s eyes narrow as he considers this option. “If I return without the Chrysaline, my master will kill the bastard. And most likely myself, as well.”
“That’s why I don’t trust him to give me Kyran. How about we all head over to Braedon together? You can hide behind me. Then he can’t kill you right away.”
His nose wrinkles with obvious displeasure. “I will not hide behind a child.”
“Your choice.” I spur my horse forward with my heels and trot past him. “But the only way Braedon gets the Chrysaline is if Kyran is returned to me in one piece.”
I sense the soldiers following behind me but don’t turn around, instead I stare into the swirling light of the Chrysaline. My only thoughts are prayers. Please, let Kyran be okay. Please, I beg of you, keep him alive.
Geran is calling from behind me. His words are drowned out as I continue to pray.
Please keep your promise to me. Fight for us. I am trying to be brave. I am trying to have faith. I am trying—
STOP
You can do nothing
But believe in me
I gasp as my body fills with light.
Time slows.
The events of the past two months run through my mind. All my horrible choices. To believe Moira’s lies, to hate Siobhan, to blame Quinn for Josh’s murder, to go to Tegan.
My part in Kennis’ death.
And once again, before the weight of all the mistakes I’ve made crushes my soul and drives me mad, the slate is wiped clean and I am lost in an ocean of complete peace. Like what I experienced in Ginessa’s Glade.
What do you believe, Alystrine?
I believe that you alone are god. That you are good. That you will win this battle for us.
I am
faithful to fulfill
ALL
I have promised
But you
must be faithful
to believe
in
ME
ALONE
I do.
“Alystrine!”
The presence that filled me evaporates into the white sky. I blink, trying to reorient myself.
“What happened?” Geran has pulled up alongside me. “For a moment you seemed to disappear. Is it some trick of the Mystics?”
“No.” I let my breath out slowly, feeling as though I’ve just woken from a three-day nap. Turning to my father, I know have the biggest grin on my face. “Whatever happens next . . . whatever I do . . . know that I’m doing it because Ruahk is leading me.”
“Leading you?” His brows furrow together into a deep v. “How?”
I’m giddy with excitement. “I can’t explain it. But he’s here. He’s got a plan. I just have to listen and obey.”
The Mystic army is no longer a vague shadow on the horizon. Thousands of soldiers stretch across the plain. My soldiers let out a collective gasp as their front line comes into view.
Black Guards atop their giant steeds flank the right and left sides like sentinels from hell. Between the faceless monsters stands a line of at least a hundred demons, as big as the ones that found me in the Passage and attacked me in the camp. Some stand on two legs reaching seven to ten feet tall with a variety of arms, tails, and horns. Some have four or more legs and carry, like a horse, another demon on their back. Like dragons, their mouths gape wide to expel earth-shaking roars and snap their razor sharp teeth. Above them fly hundreds of the tiny imp-like demons that I’ve seen when I’ve been under the influence of drugs or poisons. They’re too small to see in any detail, but the buzz of their wings sounds like a swarm of locusts.
The Portal reappears about three yards ahead of me. “Now you understand. Your puny army cannot hope to defeat us.”
The Black Guards, or maybe it’s the demons, push their malevolent thoughts toward us, but I hold tight to Ruahk’s promise and refuse to be intimidated by any of them. I’m sorry the men behind me don’t have the same confidence. “Tell Braedon to come out and face me like a man instead of hiding behind his conjured up soldiers. And bring Kyran with him.”
“And what is to prevent you from using the Chrysaline to kill Braedon when he comes?”
A vision flashes across my mind of Braedon blowing up into a million tiny bits like the Death Star. I shrug. “It’s tempting. But I won’t do it.”
The Portal lifts a brow in disbelief.
“I wouldn’t believe me, either.” I chew on my lower lip as if debating what to do next, when in reality, Ruahk has shown me exactly what he wants. “Deliver this message. Release Kyran. Once I see him walking away from your army, I’ll destroy the Chrysaline. Neither side will be able to use it in the battle.”
“Alystrine.” My father is livid beside me. “You cannot do this.”
“Watch me.”
The Portal snorts. “You would sacrifice your kingdom for the chance the bastard will survive the battle ahead?”
“No,” Geran shouts. “She will not!”
It takes every trace of my restraint to keep the energy sizzling inside me from striking out at my father. I grit my teeth, focusing instead on the Portal. “Deliver my message. Test me. If I don’t do what I promised, kill Kyran and we’re back to a stand-off. Braedon with his hounds from hell and me with the Chrysaline. What does he have to lose?”
The Portal nods then disappears.
Before Geran can start berating me in front of my soldiers I turn to face them. Every fiber of my body alive with power. “Men of Ayden, listen.”
The glowing orb I’m holding has the focus of every man before me. “I know you are all brave, even in the face of this overwhelming and terrible army.”
The Chrysaline grows even brighter. A beacon of hope to these men. They think the Chrysaline will save them. They have made it their god. “You need to have something more than courage. You need to have faith. Not in me, not the Chrysaline, but in Ruahk.”
I raise the orb over my head. “The Chrysaline cannot save you. Only your belief in Ruahk, your faith in him and what he will do for us. Only he can defeat this evil.”
Their faces show their doubt.
I want to scream in frustration, wishing they could feel the power surging all around us, making my body burst with energy. I shake the Chrysaline at them. “This is nothing but a tool. Created by Ruahk for his Messengers. You’ve all made this into an idol. You think this tiny ball holds all his power. Can’t you un
derstand that it’s like a drop of water in a river? It’s nothing compared to all Ruahk truly is. All he can do.”
A white-robed Elder coaxes his horse forward. He pushes his hood back revealing his identity. Goram. This older Brethren has watched me battle smaller demons in the Sanctuary and wield the energy of an Elderstone in the palace. A smile spreads across his weathered face as he studies me. “The Queen is right. We limit our god if we confine him to the Chrysaline. Is the sword greater than the man who forged it? The arrow than the man who carved it?”
The men nod as Goram’s words help them understand what I’ve been saying.
Naill stirs beside me. “I think they’ve released him.”
A figure staggers out from the line of demons. His back is bent, so I can’t see his features. I turn to my army. “You must have faith in Ruahk and trust that I am following his commands. Will you do that?”
The men shift nervously on their horses.
“You are willing to fight for me. To die for Ayden.” My voice is strong. The Chrysaline dances with light. “Are you brave enough to pass this test your god is giving you? Will you believe with me that Ruahk has already won this battle? We need only to have the faith to stand back and watch him annihilate our enemies?”
Flames engulf my hand as the Chrysaline responds to my call. The soldiers’ eyes grow wide as the fire glows, but doesn’t burn me. I look to Goram. “Will you believe?”
He raises his fist above his head. “I believe!”
Quinn, Naill, and several more punch the air accompanied with shouts of, “I believe!”
More and more join in agreement. As the shouts intensify, I turn around to watch the man hobbling across the plain. Kyran? He is tall. Dark-skinned. But still too far off to see his face clearly. Kyran, answer me! Is that you?
