by Meg Anne
“Slaughter them,” she ordered.
The man dipped his head and moved to join the battle. His gait was slow and measured, the vegetation beneath his feet withering with each step. Her General opened his mouth, preparing to blow into the faces of nearby Chosen.
A blur of red streaked across the sky, another Talyrian whelp shooting a stream of fire from its snout. He was heading straight for Pestilence.
“No!” Rowena cried, calling on her power. A jet of purple light burst from her fingers, hitting the Talyrian in its side and throwing it off course before its fire could reach her General.
There was a surge of euphoria as the Talyrian’s power began to fill her. Rowena’s lips curved in a sexual smile, and she fed more of her power into the transfer she’d unknowingly established. As creatures of Spirit, the connection was ten times stronger than what she experienced when creating her Shadows.
The Talyrian’s blue eyes began to glow with lavender fire before black lines began to snake across their luminous surface.
Another burst of color came barreling toward her, a Talyrian trying to protect its pride mate. Rowena lifted her other hand, a twin jet of purple power colliding with the newcomer until its eyes also began to change.
“You are mine!” Rowena shouted, draining them both until the change was complete. The flow of power ceased, and Rowena was just about to send her newest pets back into the sky to fight their kin when an invisible blow struck her in the chest.
The breath left her lungs, and she stumbled with a low moan. Suddenly weak, Rowena struggled to stand. She called on her reserve of power, shock quickly replaced by fury to find it almost empty. A loss of power at that scale could mean only one thing. Another of her Generals was gone.
Rowena’s head snapped up, her skin colorless and clammy. “It’s time to go.”
“But, My Queen—”
“Now.”
Kai-Soren looked like he wanted to argue further, but he kept silent, moving instead to help her stand. It was a testament to how weak she felt that she allowed it. They needed to get away and regroup. There was no victory to be found here.
It pained her to walk away from her home, but by morning, Greyspire would be a ruin. There was nothing left for her here. There was a hidden network of caves not too far away. Rowena would take what was left of her people and go to ground. She looked over her shoulder, the smoldering flames glittering in her Talyrians’ eyes.
A secret smile curved her lips. Perhaps today hadn’t been a complete loss after all.
Chapter Thirteen
“I swear I saw some of the Shadows running away!” Serena insisted.
“They were probably chasing after their puppet master,” Kragen said.
Serena refused to be dismissed. “No, you aren’t hearing me. They were attacking some of the Storm Forged, and then they just stopped. They’ve never fled from a fight before.”
The group around her fell silent as they digested the news and what the change of behavior could mean. Helena listened with only half an ear, more interested in watching Greyspire burn. By anyone’s standard, the attack had been a success. Anyone’s standard but hers. They had few casualties, had taken out two of the enemy’s biggest weapons, and crippled her to the point that she fled. But it still wasn’t enough. She was still alive.
Joquil broke the silence first, his amber eyes glowing with interest, “Helena’s hunch was right. Rowena’s power is tied to her Generals. She must be using their power to bolster her own.”
“And when you removed two of them, she suffered a major loss of power,” Von continued, picking up the thread of his thought.
“Don’t you see what this means?” Nial asked with excitement. “She can be beat, Helena. If we take out the rest of her Generals before she has a chance to make any more, she will be defenseless against you.”
“I don’t know about defenseless,” Joquil cautioned. “She was still a Damaskiri in her own right, which does require significant power.”
“All that means is that she can access Spirit,” Serena interjected. “Helena is a master of all five Branches. Rowena doesn’t stand a chance against her.”
Helena knew they wanted her to be excited by the news, but she couldn’t muster the energy. Because of her obsession with breaking Helena’s Circle, she’d had a feeling that Rowena would fall without her Generals. Their entire plan had been based upon that premise. The problem was they’d had their chance and failed.
Realizing that she wasn’t as thrilled by their discovery as they were, the group fell quiet again.
“Kiri?”
Helena turned her attention back to them. Despite the obvious signs of battle, most were bright-eyed and energized from what they had deemed a victory. At the moment, all Helena felt was bone-deep weariness. She was too drained from the excessive use of power to feel anything else. Timmins was the only other person present who seemed withdrawn. Helena knew that he was struggling to process Miranda’s death. It couldn’t be easy watching someone you cared about murdered in front of your eyes while you were helpless to stop it.
Von moved closer to her, sensing that she needed the support, both physically and emotionally.
“Thank you.”
His fingers wove through hers in response.
“So, what now?” Nial asked, wrapping his arm around his mate.
Helena’s mind went blank. She had no clue what to do now. All she had planned for was getting into the castle and launching the surprise assault on Greyspire. She hadn’t anticipated an after. Where did they even start when they didn’t know where Rowena had gone?
“We should go after her and press our advantage,” Serena said.
“Where would we go?” Helena asked.
Serena shifted her weight, at a loss. Her point made, Helena sighed.
“We regroup and get ready for the next battle,” Von spoke up, answering the question for her.
Ronan nodded. “Our people have earned a warm meal and rest, at the very least.”
“We also need to bury our dead,” Timmins said, his voice rusty. Helena did not know if it was from disuse or from the screaming.
A weight settled over them as they thought about the lost Keeper.
“Where is Effie?” Helena asked, voicing the question that was on each of their minds.
“She is still with the others,” Ronan answered. “Shall I bring her to you?”
She closed her eyes and nodded, not relishing the task of having to let Effie know about her grandmother. Even that small physical act was a chore. She needed to sleep, but the chance of that happening anytime soon was highly unlikely.
After that, there didn’t seem to be much left to say. The battle was over, at least for now. Their enemy had escaped, leaving no trace of her whereabouts behind. There was nothing left for them here.
Even though the future was unclear, the next step seemed fairly obvious.
“Let’s go home.”
To say that she was angry would have been the understatement of the century. The numbness she’d felt immediately preceding the battle had long since passed and the truth had set in, sending Helena into a full-blown rage.
Rowena had gotten away. Again. The pale-faced harpy slunk away in the middle of battle rather than face her directly. Helena choked on her fury, the weight of it in her chest threatening to consume her.
Her hands were clenched into fists, the tips of her black talons sliding out to bite into the tender skin of her palms. It was hard to maintain control with her emotions at war within her. The others declared their mission a victory, their enemy forced to retreat. Helena couldn’t quite see it that way. They’d only eliminated two of their five primary targets. The others were still out there, and now they’d lost the element of surprise, which had been their only true advantage.
Helena had never admitted it out loud, but she’d secretly been hoping that last night would be the end of it. Her plan may not have been fool-proof, but it had been sound. If they had only
found the Generals before Rowena caught on to them. If only…
The words echoed through her mind, ruthless with their taunting promise. She had been so close, and her victory had been stolen from her. All because Rowena had found a way to escape while she had been distracted by saving her people. Now they were back to square one, with absolutely no idea where the harlot had slipped off to.
She sighed. Presented with the same set of options, Helena would have made the same decisions. Every. Single. Time. Ronan and her Circle’s lives would always come before going after Rowena. Perhaps that made her weak and predictable, but she would never sacrifice one for the other.
A frisson of awareness brushed against her senses, alerting her to her Mate’s presence long before she acknowledged him. Von’s hands settled on her shoulders, the warmth of his touch doing little to ease the turmoil inside of her.
“You have to be kinder to yourself, Mira.”
“She got away.”
“But not without sustaining a major blow. She would not have felt the need to run if she hadn’t been scared, Helena.”
Helena’s jaw flexed, her next words gritted out between clenched teeth. “They got Miranda.” She felt the loss of the Keeper deeply. The woman’s wisdom and guidance had been invaluable. More than that, she had genuinely liked her. They had not been close, not like she and Darrin, but there had been true kinship there. Miranda had been her friend.
“We all know the risk of battle, Helena. And if anyone can know the time and place of their death, the Keeper was certainly among them.”
“How is Effie?” she asked, changing the subject.
Von let out a long breath. “She is… unwell.”
Helena’s eyes fell closed, the guilt of inflicting more pain on the poor woman because of this war was yet another burden she would carry with her. “I should go see her.”
Von’s fingers dug into her shoulders. “I would advise against that. At least for the moment.”
“Why? What’s wrong?” Helena asked, twisting out of his grasp to face him.
He weighed his words carefully before speaking. “She has no one left; it is a hard reality to face.”
“She has us,” Helena snapped. “Perhaps she needs to be reminded that she is not alone.”
“Ronan tried…”
“And?”
“Effie attacked him.”
Helena’s brows lifted. “Oh.”
Von shrugged before stating matter-of-factly, “She is not ready for comfort. She needs to work through the pain before she can start to heal.”
“Then let me provide a target.”
“Helena,” he protested as she moved past him.
“It might as well be me, Von. It is no less than I deserve. She cannot do or say any worse than I am already doing to myself.”
His eyes were sad as they met hers. “You are too hard on yourself, my love.”
His words were meant to soothe and yet they only enraged her further. He couldn’t possibly understand the extent of what she was feeling right now. Helena swallowed back her emotions, trying to explain. “It is my plan that led to her death. If anyone deserves that girl’s anger, it is I.”
“You did not kill her!” Von swore, slamming his fist into the table, causing it to topple over and crash to the floor.
“Not directly, but my choices did!” Helena raged, flinging the door open.
“When are you going to learn what it means to lead?” he snarled.
The words hurt. Helena looked back over her shoulder, the fingers that held onto the door turning white from the force with which she held it. “When did you stop caring about other people’s lives?”
Von’s eyes went wide, his mouth falling open. She did not wait for him to speak, not trusting either of them to refrain from saying something that would only cause more damage. They had never fought before, not like this. She knew that it was only love and concern for her that had him speaking as he did. But he did not truly understand what it was like for her. He was able to separate his emotions from battle, she could not. To her, each life was a splinter shoved deep into her heart. Each and every one a scratch that drew blood until she felt like she was slowly bleeding to death.
She stormed through the halls, her temper fueling her momentum. It did not take long to locate Effie; the sounds of furniture being thrown against the wall more than enough of an indication that she was heading in the right direction.
Helena didn’t bother knocking before opening the door and walking into the room. Her eyes performed a cursory inspection, noting the shards of wood with interest. The amount of destruction present was impressive for such a small woman. She had even managed to overturn the bed.
“Stupid. Mindless. Waste!” Effie screamed, each word punctuated by a picture being slammed against the side of an armoire that had seen better days.
“Is that how you greet all of your friends, or am I special?” Helena asked in a deceptively neutral tone.
Effie looked up, startled to find she was no longer alone. Her eyes were red-rimmed, deep purple circles beneath them. She had clearly not slept. Or bathed. Her long blonde curls hung in limp and dirty clumps about her shoulders. Her skin streaked with dirt and what looked like blood. All the joy and quiet peace that Helena had begun to associate with Effie was gone; snuffed out like a candle that had reached the end of its wick.
“Kiri,” she said formally, her voice hoarse. Effie dropped the picture, the crash sounding too loud in the now painfully quiet room. Her chin dipped, her hands fluttering to her sides where they continued to twitch restlessly.
“When did I stop being Helena?”
Effie looked up, her blue eyes shining brightly. “I apologize, Kiri. I do not think I am fit for company.”
Helena gave the room a pointed glance. “I see that, and yet here I am.”
“What do you want?” the girl snapped, before slapping a hand over her mouth. “Apologies, Kiri. I did warn you—”
Helena waved away the apology. “There’s no need, I understand.”
Effie pressed her lips together, looking like she wanted to argue the point.
Helena’s answering laugh was entirely without humor. “You don’t think I understand what it’s like to lose the final member of one’s family? Is your memory that short?”
Tears filled Effie’s eyes, the fight leaving her in one watery breath. “Darrin was hard enough, but now I-I have n-nothing left,” she whispered brokenly.
Helena moved closer to the grieving girl, her own heart breaking at the sight. This was her fault. “That’s not true,” Helena murmured, fighting her own tears as she wrapped her arms around Effie’s trembling body.
Effie sobbed into Helena’s chest, her stream of words entirely unintelligible. Each wave of grief struck Helena like a blow. She had done this, and there was nothing she could do to fix it. It was a long while before Effie’s tears abated. She was still shaking as she pushed out of Helena’s embrace.
“If I find her before you do, I’m going to kill her myself!” Effie vowed, her low voice no less menacing despite its lack of volume.
“I think you’ve earned that right,” Helena said, as Effie stepped back, wiping at her eyes. “I just wish we knew where to look.”
As if the words were a trigger, Effie’s body went rigid, her eyes rolling back into her head. Effie’s body began to spasm, the tremors so violent that Helena feared for the woman’s safety.
“Effie!” Helena shouted, jumping forward to grab her before she hurt herself. “Help!” Helena screamed, sending the plea down the bond and out loud for any that would hear her.
The shaking continued for what felt like hours but may have only been a minute. Effie groaned, her knees sagging. Helena caught her weight and eased her to the ground mere seconds before Effie began to vomit. Helena held the dirty strands of hair out of her face and rubbed her heaving back soothingly.
“What happened?” Von demanded, his weapon drawn and ready for battle. Seeing Effie
cradled in Helena’s arms as she continued to empty the contents of her stomach, he dropped his weapon and moved inside the room. “Is she okay?”
Helena shrugged, too shocked to reply. One moment they’d been talking; the next Effie had fallen into a seizure the likes of which she’d never seen.
“I saw her,” Effie gasped.
“Saw who?” Helena asked in confusion, looking around the room as Effie sat up.
“Rowena.”
“What! Where?” Von demanded, just as Ronan and Joquil reached the door.
“Is she hurt?” Ronan demanded, eyeing the trembling Effie.
Von silenced him with a look.
“No, Helena.” Effie licked her lips and grimaced. “I Saw her.”
Understanding dawned and Helena’s eyes went wide. She shot a startled look to her Mate, whose own expression was a mix of shock and awe. Apparently, Miranda’s legacy hadn’t ended with her death after all.
Effie was a Keeper.
Chapter Fourteen
The low murmur of voices continued as Helena helped Effie into a chair. The rest of the Circle had been summoned so that they could be present when Effie described her vision.
“Are we sure she’s a Keeper? Miranda never did that when she had a vision,” Kragen asked in a low voice.
“Did you ever see Miranda while she was in the throes of a vision?” Joquil asked, just as quietly.
“Well, no, but don’t you think she would have said something?”
“Why? What reason would she have to share that with us?”
Kragen shrugged, his dark eyes considering as they moved back to Effie.
For her part, Effie hadn’t spoken further since delivering the news that had shocked them all. At the moment, she was staring at a fixed point on the table, not meeting any of their eyes. Her body was curled in on itself as if she was trying to become as small as possible.
