Storm Princess 3: The Princess Must Reign

by Jaymin Eve

  I struggle against the binding. “They can’t touch Indira in the springs.”

  “No, but they can curse her to drown.”

  I don’t know if that’s true or not. After a glance at Indira, I follow Grayson, but reluctantly. When we reach them, Elwyn takes my chin in his claw-like fingers. His hands are wet and slippery from poking at the wall and it makes me shudder.

  “When the ancients descended, they built a fail safe to protect the pathway back to Earth’s surface. Only royal blood can open it.” His fingernail trails down the side of my neck and rests against the sensitive hollow at the top of my left collarbone. “In fact, we need the living blood of both royal lines. Lucky for us, you carry both.”

  Off to the side, Priscilla gives me a mock curtsey. “Don’t worry, my Queen, we aren’t going to kill you. Unfortunately.”

  Elwyn’s fingernail grows longer, sharper, about to pierce my skin. “We just need you to bleed a little.” He yanks me forward and thuds a fist into my stomach, forcing me to bend around Grayson’s ropes. “Right here on this spot.”

  There are markings carved into the rock—both on the wall and the ground. The spot over which I bend is right above a large carved circle. As soon as his fingernail pierces me, I will drip blood onto the cavern floor. I close my eyes as his fingernail turns iron-hard and sharp as a dagger, its tip cutting a hole in my skin.

  I will not do it.

  Virtuous flares and my skin closes over, healing as fast he can cut. Elwyn scowls. Presses harder. Makes his fingernail sharper.

  I continue to heal. At the same time, my Incorruptible power grows. Quietly. Slowly. I need them all close by so I can end them at the same time. Then Indira will be safe.

  I close my heart to any regret I feel about killing Grayson too.

  I grit my teeth. “I refuse.”

  He gives up on his fingernail and grips my throat, his fingers tightening around my neck as he lifts me, choking me. “I will drown your friend. I will burn your gargoyles. I will kill the traitor elves—”

  I snarl, choking, “I will still fight you!”

  Power grows around me now. Not so quietly. Not so slowly. My eyes fill with lightning, my heart fills with strength…

  A whisper of wind touches the back of my neck. A prickle of lightning gives me goose bumps.

  “Baelen.” I choke-whisper his name a split second before he wails through the opening to the springs, a burning torpedo as he spins upward into the high ceiling. His eyes burn, full of flame, just like before he healed. Full of wrath. There is nothing gentle about him now.

  “You.” He points at Grayson who releases the ropes from around me. “You will die first.”

  Grayson scoffs. He splays his arms at his sides. “By all means, you can try.”

  Baelen shocks me by flying straight at Grayson and plucking him from the ground beside me, shooting back into the air with him. He dangles him above the water while his fist connects with Grayson’s surprised face. Grayson jolts backward, ducking Baelen’s follow-up fist, freeing himself at the same time.

  How is this possible? Baelen can’t touch Grayson without being killed.

  And then I realize… and it seems so simple… Baelen is cloaked. Elise has cloaked him. I close my eyes with relief because not only is Baelen safe to fight Grayson now, but it means that Elise is alive and safe too. The cloaking spell is difficult to create and wears off, but it will last long enough to protect Baelen for this battle.

  Elwyn keeps hold of me, spinning me so I’m facing the fight, wrapping one arm painfully around my throat and the other across my stomach. I draw on my power. I’m ready to fight, but Elwyn hisses in my ear, “Don’t try it. I’ve already cursed your friend to drown. I only have to release the spell.”

  I grit my teeth, quiet my power, but keep it waiting. Ready.

  Grayson and Baelen remain in the air. They don’t bring their fight to the ground. They don’t use their power. Neither of them can afford to damage the springs or the walls around us, either by crashing into it or blasting it with their power. This is a fight the old-fashioned way. Grayson spins past Baelen, fist shooting out but Baelen grabs it, twists, and Grayson flips over in the air, flying right back with another blow.

  The two males are evenly matched. Scarily so. There aren’t many males who can fight Baelen and remain conscious for long. Llion once did it and I was glad I never saw that fight. This one has my heart in my throat.

  Baelen finally lands a dizzying crack against the side of Grayson’s head, almost knocking him unconscious. Grayson hunches, tries to steady himself, but drops toward the water before catching himself above its surface. Somewhere in the middle of the fight, his mask has disappeared and now he is… darkness… rage…

  He flies back at Baelen, fakes a hit to Baelen’s stomach, while his other hand wraps around Baelen’s throat.

  Something changes.

  The air charges with a force I haven’t sensed from Grayson before.

  Baelen’s skin crackles and the fire dies in his eyes. It’s so sudden and so terrifying that I lose my footing, slipping under the weight of dread. Their fight has brought them closer to us. I could run three paces and leap to reach them, which means I can see and hear everything.

  Grayson snarls, “You thought you could cloak yourself against me. People have been coming after me my whole life. I figured out long ago how to defend myself. I figured out long ago how to break a cloaking spell.”

  No…

  Another crack. Another pop. Flames light up along Baelen’s shoulders, down his arms, making his armor glow. He grabs Grayson’s arm, grips his hand, pushes with all his might, roaring against the power Grayson is pouring into him. His grip on Grayson’s arm would have crushed an ordinary male’s bones but not Grayson’s.

  Grayson roars, “Everyone lives at my mercy. Everyone!”

  Baelen’s eyes are half-closed, but he isn’t looking at Grayson. He’s looking at me. “What do you want, Grayson?”

  “I want what you have.”

  Baelen gives the smallest shake of his head, the barest movement he can make within Grayson’s grip. “What I have is earned, not taken.”

  Baelen jolts as he tries one last thing: thunder. It washes over us, over the pond, freezing the waves, freezing Indira, silencing the wind whistling through the cavern.

  But not the Elven Commanders. Not Grayson.

  Priscilla chuckles softly, her breath tickling my neck as she leans in to me, pressing up against Elwyn. “The beauty of sorcery is that it learns. We figured out how to beat your little trick after the arena. There’s no saving your precious love now.”

  I wrench out of Elwyn’s hands but she’s right. If I release my power into Grayson, I will kill Baelen too. I can’t see a way through this. I can’t see a path that keeps Baelen alive.

  Grayson says, “You have three seconds before I destroy the cloaking spell and you die, Baelen Rath.”

  Baelen’s hands slide away from Grayson’s arms. His skin is on fire now, burning, crackling, acid rain running in rivers from beneath his armor, dripping into the water. Wide, crimson rivers.

  Baelen’s eyelids droop but he forces them to remain open, his eyes meeting mine. His chest rises and falls. A final smile lifts the corner of his mouth and everything he ever said to me, every time he loved me and protected me shatters my heart.

  Until death.

  Grayson drags his hand down Baelen’s face and closes Baelen’s eyes.

  29

  My heart tears into pieces in one devastating moment as I make a choice. I thought I lost Baelen once when the Commanders stabbed him. I can’t lose him now. I won’t let him die. Not when I can do something about it.

  My scream echoes around the springs. “Grayson! Stop!”

  A sudden tension in Grayson’s shoulders is the only indication that he heard me. I listen for Baelen’s heartbeat. It’s weak, fading, but he’s still alive. I run to the spot on the cavern floor beneath the place where they float, tipp
ing my head back, desperate for Grayson to hear me despite his battle rage.

  I’m glad Baelen’s eyes are closed so that he can’t see me when I say, “Grayson? You can have what you want.”

  His focus snaps to me. He is full of fury from fighting with Baelen, blind with it. “What?”

  I bite down hard on my lip. My hands are shaking. I’m slowly folding up my heart inside myself, making it smaller and smaller, shutting it down, stopping it from feeling.

  “I’ll be what you want.” My throat constricts but I force myself to speak. “I will be with you.”

  Grayson’s eyes widen as he finally hears what I said. Very slowly, he pulls Baelen to the rocks beside the water, still holding him upright, turned to me.

  Baelen groans, acid rain leaking from his eyes as he tries to open them. “No… Marbella…”

  I finally raise my gaze to Baelen’s. “Baelen Rath, I promised to love, honor, and protect you. Now I’m going to do all of those things, but most of all I’m going to protect you. Baelen… my Baelen… I won’t let you die.”

  I turn to Grayson, asking, “Please. Will you let Baelen live?”

  A crease grows across his forehead. “You would make this choice to save his life?”

  “Yes.” As my final act of love for Baelen, I will wrap up my feelings for him and put them far away from my heart, even if it kills me inside and I am only a shell afterward.

  Grayson releases Baelen, but doesn’t drop him, guiding him to the ground instead. Baelen slumps over his knees, trying to lift his head. I don’t touch him. One touch and I will change my mind; my heart won’t let me do this. As soon as Baelen’s strength returns, he will come after me and try to stop me. So I cast a gentle whirlwind around him, allowing it to pick him up and contain him while he heals, just like he contained me when he strode into Crimson Court after I killed Howl. He can’t fight my storm power because it’s stronger than his. He won’t escape from behind the shield until I’m gone.

  I consider unfreezing Indira, but Baelen can do that once I’m gone. In the meantime, I don’t want her to see any of this. I turn, wooden, and say to Elwyn, “You want to ascend but you can’t open the pathway without me. I won’t open it unless you promise you won’t destroy the springs when you leave.”

  Osian Valor scoffs and Priscilla rolls her eyes.

  Elwyn folds his arms. “You expect us to believe they won’t come after us?”

  “Nobody will come after you. You said that it will only open with royal blood and I am the last of both lines. Nobody can ever open it again if I come with you.”

  Grayson draws level with me. He is quiet now, far from the raging male he was before. “You’re really going through with this. You’re going to ascend with me.”

  “You always keep your word, Grayson. I will keep mine.”

  Elwyn considers my offer before turning to the others. Priscilla glares for a full minute before shrugging. “We can’t open it unless she chooses.”

  Osian gives a nod. “It is agreed.”

  Grayson hardly seems to hear any of it, contemplating a spot on the wall, his gaze far away.

  I shut my eyes, closing off the world, taking one last moment, one last free breath, to say goodbye. Then I hold out my hand for a dagger. Osian Valor hands me the one he used on Indira.

  For a moment, I consider trying to kill them all. They are standing close enough to me to do it, but at the back of my mind is fear—an awful, overriding fear. What if it all goes wrong and Baelen dies? The only thing keeping me standing right now is the knowledge that he will live. My only sure path is to go with them. And once I’m there, I’ll find a way to stop them.

  The knife wobbles. Damn. Why is my heart still beating? Why can’t I stop feeling already? I slide the blade over my wrist and open a vein, allowing my blood to flow freely onto the stone circle before I heal the wound again.

  The change in the cavern is very quiet, almost peaceful. The entire ceiling of the deep springs fades and dissolves, opening up to reveal a crystal clear blue sky: the real sky. With real clouds. The view of the surface is from the ground, looking up. To our left is the gentle slosh of water as if there is a water source flowing—a river maybe? To our right, a massive curved building soars into the sky, glittering in the light of the real sun, bright, blinding reflections glinting off soaring panels of green-blue glass. Other sounds filter through the opening: human voices, shoes tapping the pavement, a constant low mechanical thrum that grows and fades like many machines moving past.

  Chicago.

  Earth’s surface.

  “There.” The Elven Commanders’ excitement makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.

  Elwyn spins to Grayson. “Time to fly, Grayson.”

  I shiver as Grayson slides one arm around my waist from behind me, his other reaching for the knife, his big hand gently gliding down my arm before he pries the blade out of my cold fingers and drops it to the ground. He makes no move toward the older Commander, causing Elwyn to frown.

  Grayson kisses the side of my neck and whispers, “Not like this, Marbella.”

  He must be talking about the knife. Or the sky. Or the way we’re about to ascend. Or what… I don’t know. I’ve given up trying to figure him out.

  He sighs against my neck, holding me fast, unmoving, and says, “Tell me again how my mother died.”

  A confused frown grows on my forehead. “You didn’t kill her.”

  “Shh. Not you. Them.” He lifts his head, still cradling me, relaxed, as if he’s asking nothing important. “Elwyn?”

  A deep frown joins the wrinkles on Elwyn’s forehead. His mouth turns down. “You killed her when you were born.”

  “Hmm. Gideon told you that, didn’t he?”

  “It happened, Grayson. We were all there to see it. Now, let’s get on with it. The pathway won’t remain open forever.”

  “All of you were there. Right.” Grayson chews his lip, tilts his head, not budging. “Why were you all at my birth?”

  Elwyn falters. “Your mother had a vision of the Earth. You know that.”

  “Yes, but… what did that have to do with me? You are all very important people. Yet you took time out of your day to be there when I was born. Why?”

  “We…” Elwyn looks to Osian, clearly floundering.

  The big Commander clears his throat. “Her vision involved you.”

  “In what way?”

  Osian licks his lips. “The pathway… isn’t easy to get through. It looks like the surface is right there in front of us, but we are two miles under the surface.”

  Grayson nods, still holding me. “You need me to transport you. I guess my mother saw that too?”

  Osian pauses. “She did.”

  “Did she tell you her vision willingly? Or under force?”

  Above us on the ceiling, the image of the city fades at the edges, the rock face reappearing as a ring around it. It’s a slow transition, barely a few inches, but it’s visible.

  It’s closing.

  Elwyn turns angry red, increasingly agitated. “Grayson, keep your eye on the prize. The city is right there! You’ll have a new life. You can start fresh. You’ll even have Marbella. Now, why don’t we—”

  “No! We aren’t leaving until you tell me the truth.”

  Elwyn glances at the ceiling. The opening is still wide, but smaller than it was. Whatever placating response he was going to give disappears as another three inches of rock appear around the edges. He strides right up to Grayson. “Take us there. Now.”

  “Or what?”

  “Or I will compel you.”

  Grayson carefully untangles himself from me, nudging me out of Elwyn’s way. “You can’t.”

  Osian advances on Grayson too, both Commanders standing much closer than I expected. Grayson returns their threatening glares with one of his own. “Be warned: I’m not cloaked.”

  Osian retorts, “We know.”

  Without hesitation, his hand shoots out to take hold of
Grayson’s arm. Elwyn grips the other, his fingers like claws around Grayson’s bicep.

  I brace, expecting them to burst into flames like Baelen did, hoping they will.

  They don’t. Their mouths split into wide, malevolent grins.

  They haven’t… died.

  Grayson’s shock is palpable. It fills every angle of his body, confused and alarmed. I jolt backward, plastering up against the wall as he retaliates against them, pushing, using his power to fling them both back against the opposite wall. Priscilla shrieks as they crack against it, scrambling away from the fight. She already used up most of her sorcery fighting me. It will only take one blow to finish her.

  The older Commanders fight back, flinging light in the shape of crimson arrowheads into Grayson’s chest. His cry of pain tells me that they are fighting with a different kind of sorcery now—not death, because they don’t want to kill him—but torture. He roars, shakes, his arms still outstretched, trying but failing to keep them away from him.

  Elwyn finds his feet, pushing through Grayson’s opposing force. “The pain will stop when you take us up. Not before.”

  Grayson gasps a breath. “How are you… still alive?”

  Elwyn’s face lights up with cruelty. “Your mother didn’t tell anyone that your father was a gargoyle. In fact, she tried very hard not to tell us anything. We found out when you were born.”

  Osian snarls, “You were a freak!”

  “An elf… with wings!” Elwyn twists his hands mid-air and the arrowheads in Grayson’s chest turn to and fro, making him roar with pain. His knees buckle but he refuses to kneel.

  Elwyn says, “Dirty… filthy… gargoyle wings.”

  Osian sneers, “We cut off your wings.”

  Elwyn forces his way back to Grayson, his gnarled features cast in crimson light from the arrowheads. “Then we cursed you to kill what you touch.”

  “And told everyone you were half a gargoyle,” Osian says, looming over Grayson now too. “So you would never know any kindness.”

  I stare, wide-eyed, at the Elven Commanders, shocked by what they’re saying. Even I never imagined the depth of their betrayal. How far they’d gone to get here. To control Grayson.