I held a sword at my side, flanked by Jhaeros, Galather, Folas, Keerla, Devdan, and Sana. It was their intention that I would not be forced to use my blade.
“Don’t think I’ve forgotten how you handle a sword,” Keerla had taunted before the battle broke out. If I’d had a crossbow, she wouldn’t have sounded so cocky. But this was a fight from up close.
A fresh wave of Ravensburg guards stomped into the fray. I could only assume that the white-haired female holding the portal open was the sorceress working with Albedo. The blackguard stood with his back to a pillar hacking at Dahlquist guards. The Ravensburg guards who stuck by him quickly cut down anyone who tried to get to him.
I hastened to the nearest door where more of our guards were being sent in. They’d been stationed in the corridors surrounding the throne room to wait until Albedo arrived. A high-ranking guard manned each of the outer doors, sending in reinforcements as needed. We hadn’t wanted Albedo to tuck tail and run back to Ravensburg if our full force ran in. We’d just needed enough time to surprise and separate him from the portal.
The guards running in slowed when they saw me. Lyklor had been king for less than twelve hours, and now he was nowhere to be seen. They didn’t look around for him. They looked at me like I was still queen. So be it.
“Ravensburg guards keep portaling in. Cut them down as they step through.”
The guards moved in tandem for the portal, ignoring the fighters around them.
“Brutal,” Keerla said beside me, sounding impressed.
It was sickening but necessary. I was a mother protecting her child. A sister and bride-to-be looking out for family. A queen saving a kingdom.
The guards I’d commanded carried out their order, slaughtering the Fae the moment they appeared. The poor guards didn’t get a chance to defend themselves. These were Teryani’s guards. They hadn’t asked for their castle to be overtaken by Albedo. They should have been allies instead of opponents stabbed and pushed to the ground like a pile of shrubs on a campaigne board.
Isadore screamed and closed the portal. Her glare found me through the melee, shooting across the room like arrows. “You,” she seethed. “You started all this.”
Her voice shivered down my spine. We shouldn’t have been able to hear her with all the grunting and clanging. Jhaeros stepped closer to me. My heart thumped hard against my chest.
Isadore spread her arms in a wide arc, sending a gust of air that knocked guards down like dominoes. It rippled toward us. Jhaeros grabbed me in his arms and turned his back to the blast, shielding me. We tipped over, but he managed to keep us both upright.
Crazed laughter swirled around the throne room. “You will pay. All of you will pay.”
We straightened and turned to face the threat. Isadore started toward our group. Dahlquist guards charged her, only to be sent flying backward, slamming into pillars and walls.
Jhaeros tensed beside me. “Aerith, you need to get out of here now,” he growled.
All of the doors leading into the throne room slammed shut, as though Isadore had heard him. The witch’s white hair billowed at her shoulders. Her cold, cruel focus was on me alone. Chilling dread iced my bones. I gripped my sword.
The space between Isadore and me opened up as more bodies flew aside until it was just the two of us facing off—that is, until Galather and Folas stepped in front of me.
Isadore’s laughter brought goosebumps over my flesh. “Hello, boys. Miss me?” she taunted.
“You aren’t welcome here,” Galather said.
“And whose fault is that? Your former bastard king’s. Merith,” she hissed. “I should have been Liri’s mate. I should have been queen.”
Good, keep her talking, I thought. Carve out more time.
“I would have, too, if it hadn’t been for that whore of an elf you’re trying to protect now.”
Pitberries! I really did not want the witch’s attention.
“Aerith never wanted Liri,” Folas said.
“That didn’t stop him from wanting her,” Isadore snarled. “He stopped dreamscaping with me as soon as Cirrus took her as his mate.”
Folas sheathed his sword and spread his arms. “Liri is the one you’re angry with, not Aerith,” he tried to reason. “She means nothing to him. He chose a human as his mate.”
Isadore shrieked in outrage. “I still blame her. I blame all of you. Out of my way, Folas!” The sorceress flung her arm to the side. Folas, as though attached to an invisible rope in her grasp, flew sideways, crashing to the ground ten feet away.
Isadore started for me.
Jhaeros, Keerla, Devdan, and Sana lifted their swords beside me. When the witch was five feet from us, Galather lunged forward, slashing his sword through the air toward her neck.
Isadore lifted her hand and twisted her wrist.
The snap of bones cracked at an unnatural volume as Galather’s head twisted around.
“No!” I shrieked.
My legs gave out, and I collapsed onto my knees as Galather fell to the floor.
Folas’s roar of pain and fury resounded off the stone walls, bellowing high into the ceiling.
Tears streaked down my cheeks, blurring my vision of the faithful guard lying dead on the flagstones, his blond hair against the gray ground. During my term as queen regent, my past jailor had become one of my most trusted allies and . . . a friend.
I lifted my hands to my face, covering my mouth and nose. I kept staring at him like that was all it would take for him to get back up. If I looked at him long enough. If I willed it. If I begged Sky Mother to reverse this evil wrong.
“Get back unless you want me to do the same to her,” Isadore bellowed, holding a fist in the air. No one got in the sorceress’s way when she stormed up to me and sneered down. “Get up you piece of elven trash.”
The tears dried in my eyes. I rose to my feet, upper lip curling back. “And you wonder why Liri didn’t choose you,” I said in a voice that matched hers in cruelty.
The whites of Isadore’s eyes expanded, and color filled her pale face. “Shut up!” she shrieked. “You know nothing. I knew Liri long before you ever stepped foot in this realm. Albedo, escort Dahlquist’s pretend queen to the throne.”
A streak of black appeared at my side. I didn’t fight Albedo as he grabbed my arm and walked me toward the dais.
“You take orders from the witch,” I hissed at him. “I thought you wanted to be king.”
“I am king,” he said through clenched teeth. “What happens next is your own fault. You should have handed Dahlquist over to me while you had the chance.”
His grip tightened, digging into my arm. He tried to hurry us along, but I dragged my feet.
“Stop stalling,” Albedo snarled.
“I’m pregnant. My feet hurt, asshole,” I returned.
We reached the dais, where Albedo half-dragged me up the stairs. I took care not to fall.
“Now sit,” Albedo commanded when we reached the chair.
“Why don’t you sit?” I snipped. “After all, you’re the one who wants the throne.”
“I said sit your ass down.”
Fucking psychopath. I lowered myself onto the cushioned seat and held my head high, refusing to look at Jhaeros or anyone else who mattered to me. Instead, I fixated on the spot where the portal had opened and closed, imagining the air rippling again, delivering backup. The area remained dishearteningly dormant.
Albedo drew his sword from the scabbard at his hip, stepped around the chair, and held the blade at my throat as Jhaeros had done to him during the feathers and lace ball.
The click of booted heals approached from below as Isadore strut up to the edge of the dais, smiling maliciously at me.
The Ravensburg guards who had survived the attack assembled themselves on either side of her. They were far outnumbered, but we were no match for Isadore’s power. A nonsensical surge of relief settled over me, a feeling of gratitude that Mel had been too incapacitated to fight. She didn’t know
how to stand down, and even fire magic was no match for sorcery. Lyklor had already told me about how Mel had gotten captured and hurt after exposing herself in order to shield Ella. If Mel had joined the battle, it could have been her neck that had been snapped, along with Galather’s. My stomach twisted and lurched as my mind flashed back over the scene. If only I had the ability to kill Isadore myself; I’d slit her throat for what she’d done to Galather.
Her malicious gray eyes gleamed up at me. “A pretend queen has no power, and now you will know how powerless you are as you watch everyone you love killed before you.”
Horror robbed me of breath. My mouth opened in a silent scream that froze over my face.
Isadore grinned. “We’ll start with the elves. Where is the sister?”
“Somewhere in the castle with Lyklor,” Albedo grumbled at my back.
Isadore tossed her hair over her shoulder and gave an evil laugh. “Let them have their fun while they can. We’ll punish Lyklor for his betrayal soon enough.”
“Bring me the tall one—her lover.” Isadore snapped her fingers.
My heart thundered in my ears. We were out of time. I leaned forward, intending to sacrifice myself to Albedo’s blade. Maybe if I were dead, Isadore would spare Jhaeros, Mel, and everyone else without me around to watch. Killing them would bring no satisfaction if she couldn’t hurt me with their deaths. Perhaps I could even buy them more time.
“What are you doing?” Albedo asked in alarm.
He pulled his sword away as I tipped forward, giving a gasp of shock. Albedo dropped the blade and grabbed me by the shoulders while two Ravensburg guards started for Jhaeros. I made the mistake of looking into my soul mate’s eyes, a deep brown well filled with all the love in the worlds.
“Please,” I whispered to Albedo. “Spare my family and friends and I will do anything. No more deception. No more games. Whatever you want, it’s yours.”
“The time for alliances has passed,” Albedo said coldly. “You and your sister are both the same. You don’t give in until it’s too late.”
“How shall I kill him?” Isadore crooned from below. She tossed a dagger from one hand to the other. “Suffocation? Beheading? How about a blade through the heart?” She caught her dagger in her right hand and held it tight as Jhaeros was brought over to her. One of his eyes twitched, and I thought I caught him dart a look at her dagger.
If he tried to kill her and failed . . .
My heart raced and limbs shook. If I wasn’t seated, I would have collapsed.
Jhaeros would try something. If he didn’t, the outcome was certain. It felt hopeless either way.
I looked around the room for help, into the faces of Dahlquist guards glowering at the witch. Sana clung to Devdan’s arm as though he was her lifeline. Keerla doubled-fisted the hilt of her sword, a fiery look of determination in her eyes. I could see her waiting for the right opening. Folas was on the floor beside his twin, a lost look in his eyes. As I scanned the scene, I caught sight of the first ripple where the portal had been. A swell flowed over the space. It expanded into a swirling tunnel, marking the king’s return. Liri stepped out dressed in all his old finery and a crown. Jastra emerged behind him dressed in human jeans and a white tank top, her teal hair pulled back into a ponytail. All eyes were on Isadore and me, so I was the first to see them.
My smile gave Isadore pause. She lowered her dagger and narrowed her eyes.
Straightening my back against the chair, I lifted my chin and announced, “Your king has returned.”
Isadore’s mouth formed an “O” before she spun around.
Liri sauntered across the throne room, passing her on his way to the dais. The witch’s mouth gaped open in shock as Liri ascended the stairs.
“Thank you for keeping my seat warm.” Liri smirked as he started toward me.
“I thought you were guarding the human,” Isadore said in an accusatory tone.
“I do not wish to discuss the human,” Liri said, sounding bored.
If I weren’t so relieved to see him, I would have raged at the infuriating prick for not coming sooner. I still felt sick over Galather and what had nearly happened to Jhaeros. None of us was safe yet.
Liri offered me a self-important smile. I narrowed my eyes at him.
“You’ve met my first love, Isadore,” he said to me. The witch made a gasping sound that didn’t mask her delight. “We were the best of friends growing up. Lovers.” A fond smile spread across Liri’s cheeks. He kept his eyes on me while speaking about Isadore. The sorceress stood transfixed watching Liri, listening to his words raptly.
Albedo scooped up his sword, stepped into Liri’s path, and bared his teeth.
“Stand aside, Cousin.” Liri flicked his fingers as though Albedo was a fly buzzing in front of him.
Albedo stood his ground. “Dahlquist is rightfully mine,” he said.
Liri looked him up and down with a grin. “Is it now?” he purred.
Albedo puffed out his chest, sword at his side. “The crown should have gone to my father, as the eldest brother, and then to me.”
Liri sneered at him. “If that’s how you felt, you should have come after me rather than my sister-in-law, but then, you and your family were always cowards.”
With a howl of outrage, Albedo lunged for him. Liri sidestepped Albedo and spun around, grasping the sword from his cousin’s long, pale fingers. Liri tossed it over the dais to the ground below as though the weapon were inconsequential and utterly unnecessary to defeat Albedo.
“I was not the oldest of my bloodline either, but instead of whining about it, I did something. I earned my title. Three brothers dead by my hand. My own father killed by my blade.”
The hollow detachment in Liri’s voice iced my insides and made me shudder. Isadore, on the other hand, looked like she was swooning in her tall, spiked boots. She sheathed her dagger and clutched her hands over her heart, eyes as dreamy as a lovesick adolescent reliving her first crush.
“You’re a disgrace!” Albedo shouted at Liri, his thin lips pulled up in disgust.
“No. I am king,” Liri drawled, prowling closer to Albedo. “And you are a pathetic pretender.”
The next part happened so quickly I never noticed Liri pull a dagger from an inner pocket of his cape until he’d slashed it across Albedo’s throat. Albedo’s eyes bugged out. He choked and grasped both hands over his neck. Blood seeped through his ashen fingers. It dripped down his neck.
The white-haired king leered at the black-haired pretender. “That, Cousin, is how you conquer a kingdom.”
I’d never heard him sound so cold. Liri ripped the crown off Albedo’s head and kicked him in the stomach. Still clutching at his neck, Albedo backed away and stumbled over the edge of the dais. He fell on his back, gagging and gurgling for breath. No one moved toward him. No one said a word until the last of his choking died off and he was entirely still.
Liri looked out at the assembly as though he’d just acted out a masterful performance and expected applause. The only appreciation to be seen was in the glow of Isadore’s gaze.
“Izzy,” Liri purred in a seductive voice.
Her lashes fluttered.
“The lengths you’ve taken to get my attention are—impressive.” Liri dropped the bloody dagger and strolled across the dais, taking the stairs down one slow step at a time. “You’ve reminded me of your strength and power. Your . . . beauty.” He prowled toward Isadore, watching her as though she were the only female in existence. “We could make a powerful couple. Rulers of all the realm.”
Step by step he advanced. The intensity of their eyes on one another silenced all around them. Reaching the witch, Liri yanked her lithe body against his. Isadore moaned as the king captured her mouth in his. Their faces smashed together. Isadore raked her nails over his back as she mewled with pleasure. Liri wrapped an arm around her waist, bringing her closer. When their kiss broke off, Isadore was panting, her chest heaving.
Liri didn’t sound winded at
all as he said, “If only my heart didn’t belong to a human.” With that, he pulled a second dagger from his cloak and plunged it into Isadore’s heart.
The witch gasped her final breath. She fisted his doublet, gaping into his eyes until hers turned glassy and her fingers loosened. Smiling with satisfaction, Liri pushed her to the floor, dusted himself off, and looked up at me with a crisp nod.
“Now, bring me Lyklor.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Melarue
I went into a sleep so deep that even dreams could not reach me. There I stayed, blissfully unconscious until waking up disoriented and abandoned.
Blankets covered me. Cracking my lids half open, I confirmed I was alone in bed.
Harsh voices spoke just outside the door.
“Let me in. I want to see my sister,” Aerith said.
My heart gave a jolt. I closed my eyes, pretending to be asleep in case Aerith stormed inside.
“Let her rest,” Lyklor answered gruffly. “She’s exhausted.”
“And why is that?” Aerith snapped.
Oh sky, please don’t let her come in and see me like this. I burrowed under the blankets, keeping one pointed ear out to listen in. But there was nothing more to hear. Footsteps receded, leaving silence in their wake. I expected Lyklor to return, but he didn’t. It was as though I’d imagined the voices.
If I wasn’t so snuggly, I would have gotten up and dressed, but Lyklor was right. I was exhausted: mind, body, and soul. I slept through the morning. It felt like the entire day passed while I snoozed. To sleep was to surrender. Tucked beneath the covers, I felt cocooned from the outside world and everything that had transpired. I’d have to face everyone soon enough. Why not put it off a little longer? Maybe I could sneak out, find Folas, and have him portal me to another realm far, far away.
A light knock came at the door later. Before I could answer, a petite female with a long brown braid entered tentatively, closing the door behind her.
“Pardon, Miss Melarue. My name is Peridot. Your sister sent me to attend to you.”
The fact that she didn’t call me “princess” or “my lady” made me instantly prefer her over the servants at Ravensburg.
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