Broken Dove

by Kristen Ashley

  “Yours,” Cora, the Nasty put in at this point and I tore my eyes from Pol to look at her and see she was still looking at Cora, the Cool. “Flawed,” she carried on and cuddled deeper into Pol. “Mine is perfect.”

  Pol curled his arm tight around her again.

  I felt bile fill my throat.

  We all jumped as we heard the loud creak of hinges fill the space. Then we all looked over our shoulders to see the doors swinging backward.

  In walked a round man wearing a red velvet cloak with black velvet breeches, exceptionally gleaming black boots and a shiny red silk shirt.

  When he got closer, I noticed he also had mean, beady eyes.

  He stopped outside the bars of the cage, looked in, his gaze moving straight to Circe.

  Then it went to Pol.

  “Is that one mine?” he asked.

  “No,” Pol answered. “Yours is coming.”

  The man looked back to Circe and at the look on his face, this time I had to swallow down the bile when he declared, “If I don’t get her, I’ll take this one.”

  “Baldur,” Circe murmured low.

  Fantastic.

  “Watching them all these months,” Cora, the Nasty stated and we all looked her way to see she’d disengaged from Pol and was prowling a circle around us. “They all seemed so brave.” She stopped and tipped her head to the side, studying us. “Not so brave without swords at their back.”

  Again, my body froze except my eyes, which shot to Pol when he said, “Seems I’ll finally get a kid outta you.” My breath froze when he continued. “Me and Cora, we get to raise yours.” He tipped his head Cora, the Righteous’s way. “And hers.”

  Oh boy.

  This was getting worse.

  “Edith wants the ice,” Baldur said and we all looked to him to see him looking at Finnie. “She wants it because she wants the dragons and elves. She’ll be taking yours.”

  Oh God.

  And worse.

  “Yours just goes,” Baldur went on, his gaze moving to Circe. “As do the other two you pushed out for that savage. For me to have the Southlands, the Golden Dynasty must fall.”

  I reached out, grabbed Circe’s hand and her fingers tightened around mine the instant mine found hers.

  “It’s gonna be fuckin’ cool, havin’ the wolves,” Pol said, and I looked to him to see he had moved to Cora, the Bitchy and claimed her again. “My woman, she just wants a place called Bellebryn. Likes the castle there. So that’ll be hers.”

  I clenched my teeth so I wouldn’t bite my lip and held his eyes, knowing he was not done.

  And he wasn’t.

  “’Course, this means that not only does the blonde bitch’s kids have to bite it, all of them do.”

  Shit, shit, shit.

  “Viktor is the next Frey and Drakkar,” Cora, the Terrible put in. “With him gone, and with the help of Minerva, the girl child you carry will make history being the first female to command the elves and dragons. We have you to thank for that, not being of this world, sharing the strength of your love for your husband with your female child. It makes not only the one you carry but the ones all of you carry immensely powerful.”

  There it was. Our coinciding pregnancies weren’t a coincidence.

  They knew this was going to happen and they planned to take away our babies.

  “That’s why your girl will command the wolves,” Pol added my way. “Obviously, after we get rid of the boy.”

  My insides squeezed.

  Chris.

  “And your girl will take over the Northlands,” Cora, the Bad told Cora, the Good. “We’ll rule for her at first, of course. But Minerva has grand plans for her.” She leaned in and smiled with saccharine sweetness. “Grand plans. She chose well with you and Prince Noctorno. She’ll mold a powerful witch from the child you make.” She leaned back and her eyes scanned us all. “She’ll mold powerful witches from all the girls you make.”

  “So you brought us here so you could steal our daughters?” Circe asked.

  “She’s a quick one,” Pol murmured on a grin down at Cora, the Awful.

  “It was Helda’s idea,” Baldur shared and we all looked to him. “Knowing it takes great magic to build love between the worlds. Magic greater than the dragons. Greater than the elves. Greater than anything. Magic the kind neither world has ever known. Minerva splitting the souls of Prince Noctorno and his bride gave her the idea. Then the stories came from the ice lands, the savage lands. Love forming legend. She knew if she could harness that magic, well…” He tipped his head to the side. “She also knew she couldn’t do it alone. She approached Minerva, they recruited Edith and, of course, they had to have those of us who wished to take care of the day-to-day tasks of ruling nations once they dispatched the mightiest of warriors, claimed their powerful daughters, and conquered the land.” He walked forward, came through the bars, and tipped his head Cora and Pol’s way. “That’s what we get.”

  “So, essentially, to be a ruler the only quality you have to have is being foul?” Cora, the Bomb asked.

  Baldur took no offense. I knew this when he smiled an oily smile.

  “I see that you realize no harm will come to you for some months,” he replied. “Still, bravado from a delectable morsel such as yourself is most enjoyable.”

  “Why do your witches not show themselves?” Circe asked.

  “More bravado,” Baldur murmured, his eyes moving over Circe in a way that made all of us get closer to her. “Don’t think your magic will serve you here, my child. All magic save that of our mistresses is constricted. It won’t work. Your green witch, when she arrives, will be rendered useless. Then she will be dispatched.” His face lit with malicious glee when he finished, “You’ve woefully underestimated their power. Thinking something so immense could weaken under dragon fire. Understandable, most definitely, a dragon’s blaze is immense and, of course, no one is more powerful than an elf.” He leaned in, smiling big. “Except them.”

  This was not good.

  It got worse when suddenly, four things penetrated the ceiling.

  One was a shoot of black smoke.

  It headed to the dais, formed a throne of what looked like a spray of black steel rods and sitting in it was a woman wearing a black dress cut in the fashion of the Vale. She had black hair and black eyes, alabaster skin and, surprisingly, a very pretty face.

  And behind the throne, at the side, Derrik formed.

  Derrik.

  My heart stopped.

  He glared at me.

  What the fuck?

  I thought he was off on some self-appointed mission for our side.

  What was he doing here?

  With them?

  I wanted to think on it.

  I couldn’t think on it.

  I had to look to the other side where there was a blaze of red falling.

  It also headed to the dais, opposite the black and gray thrones.

  It formed another throne that radiated red fire and in it sat a somewhat hefty woman wearing a dress of yellow, orange and red panels that looked like something a she-clown would wear (except way more scary than your average clown, of course).

  She had a mass of ratted out, flame-red hair and she was, not unsurprisingly, not attractive at all.

  Another was a flash of blue sparks.

  It aimed and obliterated the gray throne in a flare of blue glimmers. In its place, it formed a see-through throne of what appeared to be crystals. In it hovered—not sat—a woman wearing a floating wispy blue dress, her white hair highlighted with electric blue streaks. And last, the pale skin of her face stretched over features that could not be described as anything other than birdlike.

  Well there you go.

  Her affinity to birds explained.

  And last, a green spray that looked liquid rained from the ceiling. It fell straight to the foot of the dais and when it landed, the prone body of Lavinia, the good witch of Lunwyn thumped lifeless on the stone.

  Shit, shit.


  Fuck.

  “No,” Finnie breathed, her voice choked with horror and sorrow.

  “They are not here?”

  The words sounded around us, not from a person, but the black witch (definitely Helda) and the red witch (by the process of elimination, Edith) looked to the blue witch (absolutely Minerva).

  Thus, I guessed it was Minerva’s disembodied voice that sounded around us.

  No one answered her and I figured she was talking at least about Valentine because she had to see we were there.

  Though no one answered her question, Pol spoke.

  “I want her.”

  I looked to him to see he’d let Cora, the Unpleasant go and was pointing toward our huddle.

  But I knew he meant me.

  “Patience,” the black witch Helda said. “Mere months and she will be yours to play with.”

  Okay, things looked pretty bad but that shit was not going to happen.

  Pol was moving their way, wearing a smile on his face I knew. A charming, handsome smile that, in the beginning, helped him get away with a lot of shit.

  “I’ll be gentle,” he told them.

  “Patience,” Helda repeated.

  Pol stopped and asked, “Do you think I’d do anything to fuck this gig?”

  The witches looked down at him.

  Finally, Helda lifted her hand and murmured, “Oh, very well.”

  Crap.

  That was the only thought I had the time to have. I cried out in surprise as suddenly I was torn from the women. My body moving not on my own power, I shot across the space straight to Pol. I tried to twist and turn. I tried to do anything to stay away from him.

  I could twist and I could turn, but nothing stopped me from slamming right into him.

  His arms instantly curled tight around me.

  Fabulous.

  “What’s this?” Cora, the Rotten asked, her voice pitched slightly higher.

  “Just play,” Pol answered her, but his eyes were on me.

  I struggled in his arms as I heard noises that would indicate Finnie, Circe and Cora were struggling as well. With what, I had no clue and I couldn’t look.

  I could only focus on getting away from Pol.

  He had no problem holding me.

  This was not magic. He’d always been stronger than me.

  “You let him touch you,” he whispered.

  Here we go.

  “Let me go, Pol,” I whispered back, still struggling.

  “Took his cock,” he bit out. “Let him plant a baby inside of you.”

  I pushed against him, trying to find a way to get a kick in, but did not answer.

  “Both my babies, gone. This one will come.” He jerked his head to indicate the witches. “They’ve seen her.”

  I went still in his arms.

  They’d seen my baby.

  This one would come.

  Something welled up inside me and it felt good.

  Super freaking good.

  Keep myself alive at all costs and not give up good.

  But I still had Pol to deal with.

  “One of them gone,” I snapped. “The other one you killed.”

  His eyes flashed, his arms tightened, and his face dipped to mine, ignoring words that were heinous and flat out true.

  “Took his cock,” he whispered.

  “Yes,” I hissed.

  “Did you think of me when he was fucking you?” he asked.

  I stared right into his eyes, lifted my chin and answered, “Not…fucking…once.”

  His arms got so tight, I feared for my ribs.

  “His kid is out of you, all you got is me,” he gritted. “They got plans. This is gonna be a bad day for you, baby. They get you. They’ll get your girl. They’re gonna take care of the rest. And that means that guy who you’ve been lettin’ bang you, he’s dust.”

  I couldn’t believe that.

  I wouldn’t believe that.

  Things did not look good.

  But Apollo would find a way.

  Frey would find a way.

  Lahn would.

  Tor would.

  There was a way and they’d find it.

  His hand came up, the steel one, and he touched my face with it.

  It felt tremendously cold and very heavy against my skin and suddenly all I could think was that it would cave in my skull if he landed it on me in anger.

  Pol got so close all I could see were his eyes.

  “I’ll make you forget him.”

  “Fat chance,” I shot back.

  He smiled a smile that was not handsome or charming. “I’ll find a way.”

  “What…is…this?” Cora, the Horrible asked from close and Pol looked to her.

  “Back off a second, yeah?” he ordered.

  “What is this?” she snapped.

  Bad idea.

  Pol didn’t like it when someone didn’t do as ordered.

  “Back off,” he snarled, his eyes now narrowed. When she didn’t move, he continued. “Fuck, there’s enough of me to go around.”

  I looked to her to see her eyes were slits and her back was ramrod straight.

  “I do not share,” she retorted.

  “I say if you share or not,” Pol returned.

  She swung a hand toward the witches. “They gave you to me.”

  “No, babe, they gave you to me,” he shot back.

  “You aren’t even of this world!” she cried.

  “And you had no use except to dupe Ilsa,” he replied. “Jesus, clue in.”

  “I am to be Queen of the Northlands,” she declared.

  “Queen to my king, woman.” He shook his head. “So fuckin’ worried you got your mascara on right, you couldn’t run a schoolroom, much less a fuckin’ continent. I know how to run an empire, bitch, and they know that. Now,”—he leaned both of us toward her—“back…the fuck…off.”

  She went for him in a way he had no choice but to let me go.

  I heard a disembodied, “Such a bother.”

  But apparently Minerva nor her bitch friends felt like intervening.

  Which was rather unfortunate for Cora, the Dreadful because she obviously hadn’t gotten to the bad parts of Pol so she didn’t know he didn’t hold back.

  So she could not know it was coming.

  Therefore, after a short struggle, when his steel fist crashed into her head, it did, indeed, cave it in.

  I stood frozen in shock as she dropped inert to the ground, blood pooling stark red across the grayish-white stone, blood coming from her head.

  I waited, breathless.

  She didn’t twitch or even moan.

  Holy cow.

  He’d just killed her.

  Right there.

  He’d just killed her.

  I backed up, bile again climbing up my throat.

  “Maddie! The bars!” Finnie shouted right before a burst of electricity shot along my back and blue sparks sizzled around me.

  I scuttled forward just as Pol whirled to me.

  “Fuck! Look what you made me do!”

  Seriously?

  Seriously?

  “Me?” I asked.

  “You,” he spat, starting to stalk toward me. “Christ, always lose my mind around you. Fuckin’ crazy.”

  He was fucking crazy but not for the reasons he thought he was.

  I couldn’t share this. I was circling as he kept stalking and heard an obviously not torn up about the recent demise of Cora, The Nasty, Baldur call, “Please don’t. This is most amusing.”

  Therefore, I knew one of the witches was going to intervene.

  She didn’t.

  Pol kept stalking.

  I kept circling.

  They were probably amused too, and it was clear Pol was right.

  Cora, the Dead was expendable.

  I stared at Pol thinking this sucked.

  It sucked!

  How could life be so awesome, so full of promise, so beautiful and here I was facing down my fr
eaking ex confined by a magical cage in a whole other world?

  I mean, really.

  “Trust you to spoil it all when I’m finally happy,” I snapped at Pol.

  “Do not make me chase you, bitch,” he clipped back.

  “When Apollo gets here, he’s totally going to cut off your steel hand, your other hand and conk you in the head with his sword again.”

  “Wake up, Ilsa, this shit is not gonna go good for you. The dude’s probably already dead.”

  I could not believe that.

  I would not believe that.

  But just at the thought, my heart hurt.

  “He’ll save me,” I hissed.

  “Kiss him good-bye, babe,” he returned.

  “Come closer to us, Maddie,” Circe called.

  “I don’t want him near you guys,” I called back, still circling but doing it well away from the girls.

  “Come closer, Maddie!” Finnie yelled.

  “I don’t—” I started.

  “Come! Now!” Cora shouted.

  I didn’t know why I did it, but I ran their way.

  The instant I got close, Circe clasped my hand and I noticed all of the women were holding hands in a circle.

  Finnie grasped my other hand and the second she did, Circe ordered, “Think about your man.”

  I had no idea why she wanted us to do that but I did it.

  It wasn’t hard. It felt good. Beautiful. Calming. I pulled up a picture of Apollo, tall, strong, big, handsome, his cloak billowing out behind him, then falling forward, swaying around him, enveloping him in its embrace.

  That cloak was totally badass.

  So was my man.

  On this thought, a charge shot through my hands and a ring burst out from our huddle colored in gold, ice blue, violet and poppy stripes. It sliced through Pol and Baldur, taking them off their feet.

  Then the ring expanded, stretching tall, and the blue bars of the cage disintegrated.

  Finally, it exploded and multi-colored sparks shot everywhere.

  I guessed they were wrong about Circe’s magic not working here.

  Thank God

  “Now, run!” Circe shouted.

  We ran toward the doors.

  They closed with a loud crash.

  Crap!

  I skidded to a halt when my arm jerked because I was still holding Circe’s hand and she’d gone down, tackled by Baldur.

  She rolled him and Finnie grabbed onto his hair, yanking it back.

  He howled.

  “He was correct,” the disembodied voice sounded. “This is most amusing.”