by H. D. Gordon
Charlie could not draw in a full breath of air, the thorny, green vines remaining as tight as she’d commanded them, the pain dizzying, making his mind and vision blurry. He needed to get out of here, and fast, but he lie where he was, the lively green vines encasing him like an angry blanket, paralyzing and leaving him helpless.
Charlie had seen the type of crazy that reflected out of the Fae Queen’s slanted eyes, and he knew better than most that it would bring hell and havoc to everyone she crossed. And of course, before the pain of his circumstances pulled him under the dark veil of unconsciousness, his last thought was for Surah.
As ever, for Surah.
CHAPTER 11
SURAH
She was numb, and glad for it. Standing before the long mirror in her bedroom, staring at her reflection, Surah found that she felt nothing at all. It was as if she were merely a body, floating from place to place, but void in a way that lacked something essential.
Dressed in black from head to toe, her violet eyes and hair the only color to speak of, she did not recognize herself. Who was that girl staring back at her, with the empty eyes and face free of feeling? A queen? A ruler? Of this, she was not sure. And since she was no longer a daughter, a sister, a lover—or anything else, for that matter, she wasn’t truly sure she was anyone at all.
Samson brushed against her leg, unusually silent as she sorted through her thoughts. This incited the little bit of emotion Surah was able to feel just then, worrying her. Sam had said he would stay for the ceremony, but would need to take his leave shortly after, and he seemed to be so deep in his own thoughts that it made her stomach twist as though she might be sick.
Noelani and Lyonell came to retrieve her, knocking gently on her chamber door. They were also dressed in the customary all black, their faces long and their lack of words evident. After all, what does one say to someone who has outlived every member of their family? The answer is, nothing. Because in such situations, there is nothing to be said.
Now, she trailed her two personal guards through the cold stone hallways of the castle, unable to look at the paintings of her lost loved ones adorning the walls for fear that she would lose the composure she needed to maintain. Surah was no fool. She was aware that there were people who opposed her rule, and to show weakness—even in this appropriate setting—was not wise. As much as people would “understand” were she to break down, at the same time, they were afraid for their safety, and no one wants a blubbering leader in dark times.
They want a warrior. Which was fine with Surah, because she wanted blood.
Samson followed close at her side as Lyonell opened the door that led out to the castle’s courtyard. Noelani went through first, her harshly pretty face on the lookout for threats, as always. Samson chuffed a little at this, and Surah knew it was because the tiger thought Noelani’s actions were silly. No one would harm Surah with him near.
Surah rubbed at Sam’s ears for comfort, pausing before stepping out into the courtyard, where the royal families were no doubt gathered in the best of their black clothing. She found it more difficult than it should have been to step into the rectangle of golden sunlight that was cast upon the floor in the open doorway.
“You don’t have to go out,” Lyonell whispered to her.
This seemed to snap her out of whatever trance she’d fallen into, and Surah shook her head. “Thank you,” she said, “but, yes, I do.”
One last deep breath, and out she stepped. She held her chin high as she walked through the courtyard, and the people bowed to her as she passed. They offered their condolences, and Surah accepted them with nods and gracious thanks, but she was on edge, and could not pinpoint why. Perhaps it was because every time there was a gathering of a lot of her people lately, the crap seemed to hit the fan. Or maybe it was because there were those present who wanted to see her off the throne. Maybe it was both.
I almost want one of them to take a go at you, Samson told her in his silent way. They all stink of fear, and it’s had me on edge for days. Trust those instincts of yours. They’re almost catlike.
“But I can’t hide. Not right now,” was her silent response. “I need them to see my strength.”
Sam’s watchful, amber eyes flicked up to hers. I’m happy to show them mine.
“Oh, Sam, what will I do without you?”
You will do just fine, dear one. That’s what you will do.
Surah crossed the courtyard in a daze, hanging on to Sam’s words. This place was the same as she’d always remembered it; filled with fountains and exotic flowers that crawled up the stone walls, giving the place a pleasant perfume. Somehow it all felt different now, as if the glow it had once carried had died along with her father.
She thought she would find comfort in stepping out of the walls of the courtyard, and in a sense, she did. As she stood overlooking the Sorcerer City, on the edge of the hill her castle sat on, she saw that thousands of people had turned up for the ceremonies today, and it made her chest ache to see this.
More Hunters fell into stride around her small party, and when she reached the bottom of the hill, she found Theo waiting for her, his gray eyes filled with a sympathy she’d thought he was incapable of, and was still not sure she trusted. After all, he was a man who’d done terrible things.
You are a woman who’s done terrible things, whispered a small voice in her head. And Charlie Redmine is no angel, either.
When Theo held his arm out to her, it snapped her out of these thoughts, and she slipped her arm through his without hesitation. She may not be entirely sure she could trust the Head Hunter, but a show of solidarity might not be unwise.
Overhead, the sun shined with a cheery indifference to the darkness that hung over the people below. The day was warm, bright, only a few wispy clouds lazing their way across the sky. There had to be nearly ten thousand people lining the streets of the Sorcerer City, but for all those in attendance, a silence hung over the place like a blanket.
Arm in arm, Theo began to lead her through the city, and for the first time since she could remember, she didn’t mind the escort. The people, all donning dark clothing and heavy hearts, bowed as the two of them passed, and Surah was more than taken aback at how natural it felt.
She would never be able to do this with Charlie, not after all that had passed, and the random, unwelcome thought made a dull ache in her numb chest. Even if she did still want to be with him (and if she was being completely honest, she wasn’t sure she didn’t) they could never be able to do something as simple as walk through the capital city of her kingdom arm in arm with him. The prospect made her sadder than she wished it would.
Passing through the city this way, with her tiger and the Head Hunter at her side, along with the rest of the Royal Hunter Guard, felt surreal. It took nearly twenty minutes to reach their destination, but it felt both longer and shorter to Surah. She seemed to be dragging lead in her feet. Then, it was as if she blinked, and Bassil was standing before her and the dark waters of the Lake of the Lost Ones was stretched out beyond his back.
Unlike humans—and a select few of the other supernatural creatures, like the Fae—Sorcerers did not bury their dead. They built a pyre and set them assail on a body of water. The Lake of the Lost Ones was the equivalent of the largest cemetery in their Territory. Over the centuries, hundreds of thousands of Sorcerers and Sorceresses had been set to rest here.
Today, it would be her father. Someday after, it would be her. But not before she killed the people responsible for this. Of that, she was damn sure.
CHAPTER 12
SURAH
Bassil’s dark face was filled with sympathy. She could tell the Shaman wanted to hug her, but was thankful when he didn’t. With all these people looking on, she wanted to be a comfort to them, not for them to think she was the one in need of comfort.
Standing by the edge of the Lake of the Lost Ones, the memories of the times she’d stood in this very spot before came flooding back to her, and the strangest out-
of-body experience overcame her. For just a small moment, she could see herself as a child, dressed in black from head-to-toe, her small cloak a rich velvet that she wore like a brick wall between her and the world. Her violet hair had been set into curls by Noelani earlier on that long ago morning. The Hunter had held her as she cried, the only female left in the world whom she felt close to since her sister and mother were dead. Noelani had only hugged her, her harsh face softer than Surah had ever seen it, the same way it had been just this morning when she and Lyonell had come to retrieve her.
Surah’s brother and her father had stood beside her that day, their backs straight and their heads held nobly high. Even back then, despite thinking this was the greatest amount of pain she would ever go through, despite the hollowness in her chest and the fracture in her heart, she’d stood silent and strong like the princess she was.
This memory floated away on the breeze, which smelled faintly of lilies, as the white flower grew in long stalks all around the lake’s shoreline, like tombstones for all those these waters had sent away. Next came the memory of her not so long ago, one of only a few months back, though it seemed like an eternity between then and now. Her father, King Syrian, had stood beside her, his last child, as they set her brother Syris assail. Again, she had thought that day that she was feeling the most pain she would ever know.
Surah was given a slight nudge by Samson, and this brought her back to the now. She realized that Bassil must have already spoken, and saw that it was time for her to approach the pyre atop which her father’s body lay, and say her final goodbye.
It was as if she were walking through a dream, or perhaps, a nightmare. Her movements felt slow and heavy, and her heart seemed not to be racing, but instead had stopped dead in her chest. It took every ounce of strength she possessed to look down at her father for the last time. Her eyes began to burn and she stared out over the water, taking a deep breath and gaining control over herself.
Finally, she looked down at the lost king, at her fallen father, and into her soul. It was there that she saw that she did not want a war, and why her father had always tried so hard to avoid it. Where Surah had always wanted to take swift, crude justice, to strike back when struck, King Syrian had insisted on trying every method of diplomacy first. It was a quality of his she’d never quite understood until just now.
Looking to her left, she saw the mother she’d attempted to console in the city yesterday, the one who’d been holding her fallen darling in her arms, the one to whom she’d promised revenge. The mourning mother stood atop her son’s pyre, which was half the size of that of Surah’s father. She stared back at Surah; her eyes both void and set aflame by something deep inside that needed an extinguishing it would never know. A burning hatred and need for vengeance. Surah knew the look well. She’d seen it in the mirror more often than she’d like to admit.
Surah wished she could tell the mother that killing all the Fae in all the realms would not bring her baby back, and all of the death and destruction in the underworld could never fill the hole she’d forever carry inside her. But Surah knew she could say no such thing to the poor mother. She could say no such thing to her people, either. There was a time for diplomacy, but there was also a line, and that line had been crossed.
Beyond the grieving mother, others stood atop the tall wooden docks that led into the lake, their lost loved ones silent and still before them. Turning her head to the left revealed more of the same. She had yet to receive the official count of how many had been lost, but she could see that there were dozens, if not hundreds. The Fae Warriors had torn through the unsuspecting crowd and towns like the mongrels they were.
There were thousands of eyes on her. She could feel them from all around the way one can feel the weather. She could also feel the divide among her people. Some of them truly did love the Stormsong family enough to know that Surah wanted what was best for the kingdom, and others among them were just here for the show. But the ones whose gazes she could feel on her cloak as though they were a second skin had a fiery distrust, obviously thinking she wasn’t suitable to sit on the throne. Or worse, they blamed her for all the misfortune that had befallen Sorcerer kind as of late. Or both.
Honest to Gods, Surah didn’t know what to do. She was as lost as all those who ever burned atop the dark waters of the lake. A single tear fell down her face, and she did not wipe it away. To love was not weakness, but strength. For love, she would face whatever and whoever dare threaten the peace of her people. For love, she would fight. For love, she would kill, and if need be, for love, she would die.
Bassil handed her a torch ablaze with a blue flame, the fire as brilliant as a star in the dark night. All along the edge of the shoreline, more blue flames sprang to life, dotting the perimeter of the lake like a blue-diamond ring the width of a God’s finger. Only the insects spoke into the shadows, the rest of the souls present holding silent in respect. It was as if they were collectively holding their breath, pausing the beating of their hearts.
With a final exhale, Surah placed the torch atop her father’s chest, where the substance that cover the pyre and body made the flame spread and cover its entirety in a matter of seconds. Placing her black boot on the edge of the pyre, she shoved it out into the lake, where the ever-shifting blue blaze grew brighter and brighter.
All around the lake, pyres large and small, depending on the size of their occupant, were set aflame and afloat, and soon the night was glowing bright with the fire of all the Lost Ones, the lake’s dark surface reflecting the glow like a mirror.
It was in this brilliant blue light that the shadow of the first Demon appeared, and then the screeches of dozens of the denizens of darkness were filling the blue and black sky. Someone in the crowd screamed, and a terror filled those present that was palpable in the air.
A fire that put to shame all the blazes that had ever been set in all the times and across all the realms filled her, and Surah reached behind her and removed her two silver sais, letting her cloak fall into a puddle at her feet. A grin that held no humor pulled up one side of her mouth, and she spun the weapons around in her hands, her heart picking up pace in anticipation of battle, the tiny hairs on her neck standing on end, as if an invisible electric charge were filling the air.
Screams and screeches filled the scene, hell descending from above and breaking loose as the chains of vengeance slowly wound tighter around the new queen’s battered and hardened heart.
CHAPTER 13
SURAH
They’d picked the wrong person, the wrong day. Something overcame Surah in the moment that she had only ever felt a few times in her long life. A sort of slow motion, tunnel-like focus took over, and she thought if Alexa Montgomery—the brave young Sun Warrior who’d been fiercer than any creature in all the Territories—could see her now she would give Surah a crooked smile and a nod of approval.
Surah was going to kill them all, and she was going to do it by herself, for all to see. Or she was going to die trying. Her nearly crazed smile grew wider as she thought to herself, Alexa Style.
Sais gripped loosely and comfortably in her hands, in all the panic that was on the edge of erupting, Surah turned to the Shaman and held his dark eyes for a stolen moment. “Cast a Barrier Spell to protect the people,” she told him, slipping her queen’s piece of White Stone from around her neck and handing it to him. “And then freeze the people in place below the barrier. I don’t want them running. I want them to watch what happens next. I want their full attention.”
Bassil hesitated only a moment, a look of both concern and newfound respect for her passing behind his eyes. What she was telling him to do was crazy, and would take an enormous amount of Magic from both the Shaman and the Stone. Also, it would leave her to fight the Demons solo—without the help of Magic.
The Shaman took the Stone into his large hand, meeting her gaze steadily. “Kill them all, my queen,” he told her, and then braced himself, closed his eyes, and cast the Spell.
&nbs
p; The Barrier Spell took effect just in time, the move both risky and clever on her part. Surah watched as it blanketed the people like an invisible ceiling, the dozens of Demons rebounding off of it in a way that was almost comical. Almost, because nothing about this would be funny. No matter what happened in the rapid moments that would follow, nothing would be funny at all.
The Demons were intimidating physically, with their scaly, black, and winged bodies, long horns atop their ugly heads, and sharp claws on their hands and feet. They would scare the daylights out of most people. But Surah was not most people, and as far as intelligence went, these dark creatures left much to be desired.
Slowly, the Demons began to recognize that they could not reach the people below, who were now under the Binding Spell Bassil was casting, and could not move but for their eyes, which were as wide as disks.
A Demon noticed Surah still standing atop the dock with that crazed smile on her face, and came soaring at her, ugly face flashing sharp teeth and long-clawed feet outstretched for the kill. Surah spun her sais, waiting, but before the creature could reach her, Samson tackled it out of the air, his enormous blue and black body moving faster than one would think possible.
Surah charged, her black leather boots walking atop the invisible barrier Bassil was impressively maintaining as if she were running on air. She reached the first Demon a heartbeat later, and skewered it the way one might meat on a stick. The screech of pain that the creature released lifted Surah’s heart in a fashion that she knew was not permanent, but would take nonetheless. She had not enjoyed killing something is such a long time. And she wanted, maybe even needed, more of it.
Spinning as gracefully as a ballerina, she skewered another Demon on her opposite side, the sharp, silver points of her sais going through the creature’s neck, spraying black, sticky, and hot blood into the air and across Surah’s face.
