Storm Princess 3: The Princess Must Reign

by Jaymin Eve

  He scrubs at his forehead. “I passed out.”

  I take his face in both my hands. “You need rest. When we get home, you’re sleeping in my bed.”

  His green eyes light up. “Your little bed? My feet will stick out the bottom of it.”

  I kiss his laughing mouth. “Then you’ll just have to curl up.”

  His chest rumbles. “Yes, Ma’am.”

  We slide off the Phoenix and it settles down onto the grass to wait for us. I make my way carefully toward the cabin, listening for its inhabitants. The rushing sound from the distant waterfall grows louder as we approach. Twenty paces from the door, Jasper emerges, striding down the steps. His straight brown hair is longer than it was last time I saw him, hanging loose to his shoulders. He’s wearing simple clothing, no armor or weaponry. His broad shoulders are relaxed and his gold-flecked chocolate eyes gleam.

  I stop dead in my tracks.

  He’s… smiling.

  He greets me first, pulling me into a hug. “Marbella, it’s good to see you.”

  “Jasper… you…”

  He pulls back, a full half-smile gracing his lips. I always suspected that when this male smiled he’d blow the socks off any female around him, but whoa, where did this guy come from?

  His forehead crinkles. “What?”

  “You’re… uh…” I swallow. “You look happy.”

  “I am.” He turns to Baelen. “Brother. It’s good to see you.”

  “You too, Jasper.”

  They bear hug and once again I’m struck at how loyal Jasper is to Baelen and me. He meets my eyes. “You’re here to see Elyria.”

  For a moment, I forgot that he is Senturi’s grandson, but the way he looks at me, seeing more than he should, reminds me that there’s a conversation I need to have with him about his heritage. “Can you please take me to her?”

  “She’s waiting for you by the waterfall. She knew you’d come.” His smile dims, becoming serious. “Ever since you broke her chains, she’s had visions of the future.”

  I give a start. “She’s become a Visionary?”

  “It’s best if you talk to her yourself.”

  “Thank you, Jasper.”

  I leave him and Baelen outside the cabin and follow the river upstream several hundred paces to the place where the waterfall crashes. Elyria sits on a wooden bench at the side, far enough away from the spray, but close enough that the roar is deafening. Her long lashes blink gently across her deep brown eyes, her hair washes down one side to her hips, and one of her long legs is tucked neatly beneath her bottom. She looks completely relaxed. Even her broken wing flutters in the breeze without tension.

  She says, “This is the only place I can hear myself think.”

  Despite the roar, I can hear her clearly. I suspect there is some sort of spell cast over this spot, but I can’t be sure whether Elyria herself cast it.

  She turns to me as I sit on the chair beside her. She says, “Everywhere else—even the cabin—is full of noisy possibilities. But here, I can make sense of things.”

  “Jasper said you’re having visions.”

  She gives a short nod. “I know it must seem impossible. Visionaries are elves, not gargoyles. But Jasper helped me see that I am a bit of both now.” She smiles, a gentle lifting of her lips. “Like you.”

  “Jasper is taking good care of you?”

  Her eyes light up as she talks about him. “He helps me understand what is real and what is not. At first I was sure I was having waking nightmares—that the things I saw were really happening. Now I can tell when I’m having a vision.” She reaches for my hand. “I’m glad you came to see me, Marbella. You have a difficult path ahead of you.”

  I gasp at the warmth in her hand. Whenever she touched me before, she felt transparent—there but not there. Now, her touch is as normal, as solid and real, as any other gargoyle’s.

  I nod. “There’s a war coming.”

  Her hand squeezes mine, but her brown eyes demand my attention, suddenly so deeply sad that I nearly drown in them. She says, “You don’t want to kill him, but you must.”

  I blink at her, keeping my question careful. “Who?”

  “Grayson Glory.”

  The day suddenly seems very cold, the waterfall much too loud. She’s talking about killing Grayson, but I won’t do that unless I’m forced to. I speak very carefully. “I will defeat Grayson Glory. I will make him surrender.”

  “You have to kill him.”

  My question is sharper than I intended. “Why?”

  She doesn’t blink. “Because I see only two futures: one in which he succeeds and we all die. The other in which he falls and we all live.”

  “But killing him? He is not my real enemy. The Elven Command is my enemy. They are the ones who have plotted and killed for their own ends.”

  She inclines her head. “Yes, but Grayson is the true threat.”

  I can’t deny that what she says is correct. The Elven Command will draw as much power as they can from sorcery for the fight, but it is Grayson who could turn the battle in their favor.

  She persists, “You are conflicted because he has been misled. The forces in his life have taken him down a bad path—a path he might not have walked if not for them. You see the possibility of redemption for him. That he will learn the truth and change his mind.”

  I remove my hand from hers. “Grayson has been lied to his whole life. If I was him and I believed that the elf who raised me was a good person and someone murdered them, I’d want revenge too…”

  She glances upward at my forehead and I can only guess she’s assessing my glowing Virtuous heartstone. “You feel pity for him.”

  “I relate to him. I lived a life caged from everyone too, not being able to touch anyone for fear of killing them. But I was lucky enough to have my Storm Command, my friends, to keep me grounded. He has nothing but those twisted old bastards telling him lies all his life.”

  She studies her hands, remaining calm. “You aren’t wrong to feel the way you feel. In fact… you wouldn’t be who you are if you didn’t.” She bites her lip, studies the stunning blue sky and the sparkling waterfall. “Did you ever wonder why I chose you?”

  I laugh but it’s wry. “All the time.”

  “When you stood on that cliff top… No… Let me go back… When I raged through Erawind after first becoming the storm, I completely lost myself in grief. My brother and mother were murdered before my eyes and I wanted to kill every elf… But when that first Storm Princess, that tiny, fragile little girl ran into the Storm Vault and stood in front of her mother—stood between me and the one she loved—she reminded me of me. She was willing to give up everything to protect her mother just like I gave up everything to avenge mine. I let her take my power into her body, absorb it, and calm me.”

  I hesitate to ask, “And me?”

  “You stood between a lightning bolt and Baelen Rath. You gave your life willingly for his. You were worthy of my power. Which is why I know how hard this is to hear right now. I know you don’t want to kill Grayson.”

  I clench my hands into fists. Grayson isn’t Howl. Death isn’t the only answer. He hasn’t gone so far down his path that there’s no chance left for him. I’m determined to find a way to turn him around. “You keep saying I have to kill him. I know I have to face him in battle but Baelen—”

  “Can’t kill him,” she says firmly. “Baelen can’t. Talia can’t. Elise can’t. I can’t. Not even your heartstones can. There is only one way to defeat a natural-born sorcerer and that power rests solely in your hands.” Her eyes meet mine. “I gave it you.”

  “You mean the storm power.” It’s my turn to persist. “But Baelen shares the storm with me.”

  “He has a derivative of it. And, yes, he was a custodian of the original power for a time, but it was never his. Only you have my original power. I gave you my heart and soul. Only you can stop Grayson…”

  I demand, “How do you know Grayson can’t be stopped another wa
y?”

  “I know because I did it.”

  I frown, not understanding her.

  She explains, “The Elven King who murdered my family… He was the first natural-born sorcerer in our history. I stopped him when nobody else could.”

  I sink back against the chair, my eyes wide. “The Elven King was a sorcerer from birth? I knew he practiced sorcery but…”

  She sighs. “A natural born sorcerer is not like a spellcaster. Sorcery by its nature is dark and malicious. Deep magic, on the other hand, is inherently good. But me… I became the first destructive source of deep magic. It was the only power strong enough to destroy the Elven King’s sorcery.”

  I clench and unclench my hands, hating the choices that are left to me. “So now it’s up to me whether Grayson lives or dies.”

  “It is your choice. But before you make any more choices, you need to know the truth about everything. Starting with the Elven King.”

  “There’s more?” I don’t think I can take any more. I wait for her to continue as fear and uncertainty rise up inside me.

  She says simply, “He was my father.”

  I gape at her, trying to digest this new information. Underneath the simplicity of her statement is sadness. The Elven King tried to kill her. Which means that her father tried to kill her… killed her mother and brother… and then Elyria gave her life to destroy him…

  “Elyria… I’m so sorry. I can’t even begin…”

  She uncoils her foot from beneath her, sliding to her feet. “You read my mother’s diary so you know that everyone warned her about him, but she didn’t listen. He visited for her wedding, brought expensive gifts, but he took more than he gave. After that, he didn’t come back for eighteen years.”

  She reaches down to the water, running her hand through the wash. “My mother kept it a secret, but he realized the truth as soon as he saw me. He said I had his eyes.”

  “Is that why he tried to kill you?”

  “He had no children. There was no elven heir. He could not allow me or my brother—filthy gargoyles—to make a claim for the elven throne. He grabbed my wing… broke it… I screamed and my mother ran in…”

  She covers her face with her hands. Stands very still for a long time. Tears seep from beneath her hands, but she wipes them away.

  “Elyria,” I whisper. “You didn’t deserve that to happen to you.”

  She takes a deep breath, swallowing, focusing on the waterfall for a moment before she finds her equilibrium again. “What’s important now are the consequences.”

  She surprises me by dropping to her knees in front of me, taking my hands. Her palms are still wet with her tears. She asks me, “Whose soul made you the gargoyle Queen?”

  I whisper, “Yours.”

  “I was the heir to both kingdoms.”

  I gasp. “You’re not seriously telling me…”

  “You are the heir to the elven throne. You are Queen of both worlds.”

  23

  I am frozen. I’m sure my heart has stopped beating. I barely hear her next words.

  “It’s why the Elven Command has been so desperate to kill you.”

  “But how… did they even know? You killed everyone who knew: the King, his wife, his advisors, thousands of elves…”

  She presses her lips together, suddenly trembling. “After Grayson’s mother had her vision, the Elven Commanders sought every means possible to take over the deep springs. After a time, they turned their sights on me. They thought the storm power would get them through the gargoyle’s defenses. So one night, fifteen years ago, before you became the Storm Princess, Gideon Glory stole into my mind to find out what I really was and how to control me. He saw all the secrets of my past.”

  A tear trickles down her cheek. “But it was not what he saw that truly devastated me. My secrets are awful but they are nothing compared to who he killed to give himself power to see my thoughts.”

  Her hands shake around mine. Her emotions are making me afraid. Like the other Commanders, Gideon’s sorcery was always fed by death. He killed Mai to create the marriage curse. Now Elyria is trying to tell me about someone who died fifteen years ago… when I was… ten years old…

  I force the single word to spill from my tongue. “Who?”

  “Baelen Rath’s mother and unborn sister.”

  My wail cuts across the clearing, sharp and painful. I double over, trying to breathe. Baelen’s mother… his sister… their deaths had such a profound impact on him and left his House without a future. Baelen’s father was a fierce but wise elf who would have recognized the Command’s sorcery much sooner than I did. Gideon Glory struck right at his heart, trying to break him, the same way Grayson tried to break Baelen: by taking away what he loves the most.

  “After I made you Storm Princess and you showed signs of controlling the storm, the Elven Command took what they already knew about me and put the pieces together. They know you are the rightful heir.”

  Elyria runs her hand through my hair, trying to comfort me. “I sank all of my rage into the storm to avenge my family. You avenged Baelen’s family when you killed Gideon Glory. But now your greatest battle is ahead of you. I’m sorry, Marbella. I’m sorry to tell you these things. But now you know everything.”

  Tears drip down my cheeks. A drastic change of air pressure alerts me moments before Baelen drops to the earth beside the lake, his feet pounding in my direction. He felt my pain. “What happened?”

  Elyria intercepts him, placing her hand over his heart. “She weeps for you, Baelen Rath.”

  Elyria heads toward Jasper who is striding up the slope toward us, concern written all over his face. She takes his hand and speaks with him for a moment. He casts a worried glance in our direction before following her back to the cabin.

  Baelen takes a knee in front of me. He reaches for my hand, quietly checking me over. “Marbella?”

  This great, giant of an elf who can literally rip a shadow panther apart with his bare hands is so concerned about me, so careful with my hand, that I just want to cry harder. I swallow my tears and tell him everything.

  I start with Elyria’s story, the Elven King’s treachery, and the consequences of me taking her soul. Then I tell him about Grayson’s mother, her vision of Earth’s surface, the Elven Command’s plans, the threat to the deep springs, the consequences if the springs are destroyed—and the fact that I’m the only one who can kill Grayson. Last of all, I tell him about his mother and sister.

  Baelen cycles through every emotion—emotions he isn’t afraid to show in front of me: anger, shock, disbelief, rage, and finally… grief. He bends his head over my hand, dropping his forehead to it, and stays like that for a long time. Quiet.

  Finally, he says, “We will end this.”

  I nod. “One way or another.”

  When we return to the cabin, Jasper is collecting his weapons and Elyria is packing a satchel of clothing.

  I try to stop them. “You don’t have to come back with us.”

  “If the Elven Command wins the war, this valley will be rubble within a week,” Jasper says, sliding his sword into its scabbard. He turns to Baelen. “I’m going to need new armor.”

  Jasper’s last armor was beaten up before we even arrived in Erador. It was so damaged that Llion gave him the nickname Twisted Metal.

  “I have the perfect armor for you,” Baelen replies as they descend down the steps together.

  I reach for Elyria. “Are you sure you’re ready for this?”

  She covers my hand with her own. “I’m ready to heal my wing. I’m ready to face the world again.” Her smile turns wonky as she rolls her eyes. “As a new gargoyle-slash-elf-slash-whatever-I-am.”

  She hasn’t once judged me for taking away her power, but as I observe the way she seeks Jasper’s help climbing onto the Phoenix’s strong back, taking his hand without hesitation, I realize that she doesn’t want the storm power anymore. She’s happier without it. I pause a moment, wondering if she knows the w
ay Jasper looks at her, wondering if they’ve told each other how they feel. Because it’s plain as day to me: Jasper loves Elyria and she loves him back. I hope they don’t leave it too late to tell each other.

  Jasper’s smile becomes fainter the further we fly away from the valley. By the time we reach Mount Erador, he has become deadly serious and increasingly protective of Elyria. I’ve chosen to sit behind Baelen this time so I can look back to the both of them more easily.

  After we finish off the food we brought with us while we fly, she whispers to him, “I’m okay,” but he doesn’t seem convinced.

  He calls to me from where he sits behind her with his arms wrapped carefully around her. “Can you take us directly to the deep springs?”

  “Of course.” I speak to the Phoenix and we eventually set down right outside them. The ledge outside the opening to the springs is cast golden in the late afternoon sunlight, the cliff face above it a soaring expanse of mottled brown and gray rock.

  Elyria takes a deep breath before she slides off the Phoenix. “I’m ready.”

  I give them space as they head inside, but as soon as they’re gone, I spin to Baelen. I don’t even have to say it.

  He gives me a knowing look, his eyes twinkling. “I don’t think they’ve admitted it, let alone acted on it.”

  I can’t help but smile. “Can you give Jasper a nudge?”

  “Hmm. No.” He grins. “She’s a gargoyle who will follow the gargoyle way. It’s up to her, remember?”

  I blush. All that ‘going to his bed’ business. “Okay, so her relationship with Jasper aside, what is the best way to protect her now? She used to be untouchable and I’m worried she’ll forget she’s vulnerable now.”

  “I think we have two choices: one is to take her to Rath land. The Elven Command is less likely to focus their attack there because it’s too far north to provide a good pathway to the springs. Also, the elven army will be more reluctant to attack other elves. On the other hand, it’s closer to the front of the battle.”