Storm Princess 3: The Princess Must Reign

by Jaymin Eve

  Grayson stands at the edge of the water with his back to me. He doesn’t move, but he knows I’m here. Without turning, he says, “I wonder what would happen if I went in.”

  I cross the distance to stand by his side, considering the glistening pond. Sorcery and deep magic don’t combine, but I’m not sure to what extent those rules apply to Grayson—a natural sorcerer whose power doesn’t derive from death. I’ve already asked Elise to undertake as much research as she can about natural sorcery, but since Grayson is only the second ever born, we’re in unknown territory.

  He finally turns to me as he asks, “Would the water kill me? Or would it give me back my wings?”

  My lips part a little. He’s grown a beard. He wears a chain of talons and claws around his neck. It seems to be a thing.

  He steps back from the water’s edge, seeming to decide against stepping in. “Sorcery and deep magic are like fire and kindling. A bad combination.”

  “I think you’re forgetting...” I tap my headpiece, my finger landing on Incorruptible’s iciness. “I can put out flames before they start.”

  Elyria lost her wings in this place. Maybe Grayson can get his back. I plant my feet and access my power, lowering the temperature in the air to a point where my breath frosts.

  He’s startled. “You’re serious?”

  “I am. You deserve to have your wings back.”

  “Deserve? Hardly.” His jaw clenches. The tension in his shoulders makes him hunch a little.

  I shake my head at him. If he had wings, they would curl around him right now, forming a protective shield. He doesn’t even know he’s accessing those muscles in his back. I become very stern. “Grayson Glory, I am Supreme Incorruptible and I order you to go in.”

  He searches my face for a long moment as if he’s trying to see the future—does it contain new wings or death?

  Then he removes his boots. He doesn’t take it one step at a time, diving straight into the water. I brace for impact. Despite what I said, I’m not sure what’s going to happen. Maybe he’ll never come up again. Maybe the water will explode. Maybe I’ve been really, seriously, stupidly reckless…

  His head emerges. He reaches up to slick back his hair, wiping the water off his face. I let out the breath I was holding.

  He looks at me. I look at him.

  We’re both waiting.

  He slowly tips backward, a strange expression flooding his face. Then, in an increasingly loud shout, right before he topples backward, arms flailing, he yells, “Holy fuck! They’re heavy!”

  Gold glitters beneath the water’s surface, a growing mass attached to his back. The Elven Commanders had described Grayson’s wings as dirty and filthy, but they aren’t. Not at all.

  He scrambles to right himself, managing to roll to his side, paddling through the water, and finally crawling up the steps. Giant wings fall across his back and spill across the rocks as he claws his way on hands and knees to dry land. He collapses against the stones, staring side to side from one wing to the other. His wings are golden, shot through with silver swirls, glistening and strong.

  “Well,” he pants, raising a hopeful eyebrow. “I guess I’ll be camouflaged against… I don’t know… the sun?”

  I burst out laughing. I’m finding it very hard not to make a derogatory comment about the fact that it’s his turn to land on his hands and knees in front of me. I hold out my hand to help him stand up.

  “Wait,” he says. “I can do this.”

  With great concentration, he slowly rises to a knee, testing his balance, testing his strength, acclimatizing to the massive new weight across his back. Hunching forward to maintain his balance, thigh muscles bunching, he very slowly rises to a standing position, closing his eyes to help him focus.

  He takes a step toward me, eyes still closed. His wings slowly rise, extending then retracting as he tests them out, his balance gradually returning, muscles working less and less hard to keep him upright.

  Finally, he opens his eyes and takes another step. And another. His wings extend and curl around me. Very carefully, he draws me into a warm hug. “Thank you.”

  He releases me, but I return the hug, murmuring against his chest. “Come back to the Residence now, Grayson. There are gargoyles you need to meet.”

  He gives me a cautious smile. “Okay.”

  “And get rid of that beard.”

  “Yes, Supreme Incorruptible.”

  By the time we reach the Royal Residence, the sun has broken across the horizon. I lead Grayson to the food hall, since there’s no point taking things slowly. Silence descends as soon as he appears; the gargoyles stop talking and put down their knives and forks.

  At the back of the room, my warrior husband scrapes back his chair, rises to full Rath height, and strides toward us with purposeful steps, a challenge written across his face. He stops two paces away from us and considers Grayson’s wings and the row of talons around his neck.

  Grayson tucks his wings tight into his sides, holding them low and non-threatening, his chin tucked slightly down. It is such a gargoyle thing to do, a gesture of respect, that the challenge fades from Baelen’s posture. Something unspoken passes between the two males.

  Finally, Baelen breaks the silence. “I got the same reaction when I first arrived. It will change.” It’s not exactly a welcome, but it’s the closest that Grayson will get.

  The tension leaves Grayson’s shoulders, and I shoot Baelen a grateful smile, but we haven’t made it more than a few steps when my name is called from the door.

  Talia glides into the room. “Marbella—”

  She freezes as soon as she sees Grayson, her eyes widening. She gasps at his wings, her own drawing back as if she’s about to take flight and escape. It caused Talia a lot of pain when Grayson broke her shield during the battle—and that was on top of knocking her unconscious on the cliff top when she was defending Llion and Liliana’s children. She opens her mouth. Shuts it again, her jaw clenching.

  Head high, she promptly spins on her heel and stalks away.

  Grayson hunches beneath his wings, his body deflating. He’s only had his wings for two seconds but he’s already exhibiting all his emotions with them. There is no point hiding behind a mask anymore. He walks quietly, as if he’s afraid he’ll startle everyone more than he already has. After two steps toward our table, Adalie jumps down from the breakfast table and runs right up to him, staring wide-eyed at the chain around his neck. Without a word, she holds up her own, proudly pointing at the single talon on it.

  A faint smile lights up Grayson’s face. Adalie is a very little girl, small for her age, and the acknowledging nod he gives her says that the fact she has killed a talon crow—even a small one—is impressive.

  She holds out her arms to be picked up and his eyes turn into saucers. He glances left and right.

  I shake my head with a laugh. “She doesn’t mean me.”

  Adalie says, “Golden Gargoyle, you need a hug.”

  She calls him a gargoyle. His eyes widen even further.

  Baelen grins at them both. Any hint of distrust on his part disappears. Adalie can see right into Grayson’s soul and if she trusts him, then none of us have anything to fear from him. Baelen swings Adalie up and deposits her into Grayson’s arms. Grayson catches her and she giggles, throwing her little arms around his big chest, snuggling her head against his heart.

  “Careful, Grayson,” I whisper as I glide past. “She will steal your heart and discover all your secrets in a single beat.”

  Grayson is frozen. He holds her as if she’ll break, shocked when she doesn’t. Thawing with each second, he drops his head to briefly press his cheek to the top of her forehead. He is full of amazement. “Her hair is so soft.”

  He has never held a child before. I widen my eyes at him with emphasis. “You should hold the babies. They have the softest skin you’ve ever felt. But first… breakfast.”

  After that, Grayson works very hard to assimilate into the gargoyle way of
life, taking up work with Iago traveling all over Erador repairing damaged homes and rebuilding ones that Howl destroyed long ago. One morning, I enter the food hall to find him sitting with Roar and Gilda and their two children. He and Roar have similar wing structures and I find them comparing the patterns on their wings.

  Afterward, Grayson tells me, “I’m trying to find out who my father was. I think he might have been from the same clan as Roar—the Sunflight Clan.”

  “That’s also Talia’s clan.”

  He falls quiet. “I have one more apology to make, but I don’t know how to make it.”

  “Not to me, surely.”

  A self-satisfied smile touches his lips. He almost laughs, but not quite. “The only thing I’ll apologize to you for is that I’m not sorry.”

  I try not to smile. I’m glad Baelen isn’t here to hear him say that.

  “No… this apology is to someone who did nothing but try to protect her friends…”

  I purse my lips. I’ve seen the way he looks at Talia. He wants to bridge the gap but doesn’t know how and she is definitely not making it easy for him. If anything she has become even more fierce and distant. “Talk to Roar. He may have some ideas.”

  Grayson nods and goes on his way.

  I hardly see him for months. Winter comes and goes. My peoples’ battles become smaller: a crop that fails, a storm that destroys several homes (not my doing), and finally, the hilarious debate about how to fit the elven crown on my head at the same time as my headpiece.

  Ten months after the battle, I awake to the day of my official coronation. Today I will receive both the elven crown and the mark of the Supreme Incorruptible. As my eyes open to the new day and sunlight drifts through my window, Baelen strokes my hair, kissing my forehead and then my lips. “Good morning Supreme Incorruptible.”

  “Good morning, Wrathful One.”

  He gathers me up against him so that I’m lying on top of him. I push up so I can see his face, my auburn hair falling like a curtain around his face. He strokes my back, a slow smile growing as he finds the base of my shirt and my bare skin. His feather-light touch scatters shivers all the way to my toes.

  I will never get tired of the look in his eyes that tells me our bodies are too far apart. “I love you, Baelen Rath.”

  He rears up beneath me, gathering my legs around his waist and raising us into a sitting position. “I love you, Marbella Mercy.”

  My answer is a kiss. There are no adequate words to tell him how much I feel for him. Only actions. A long time later, a discrete knock at my door tells me we’re late. I throw the door open, fully clothed and dressed now, surprising Talia and Elise who both wait for me and probably expected me to be scrambling right now. They are both dressed in simple, elegant gowns, their smiles making them glow. Behind them, my family beam at me, rushing forward to hug me until I’m breathless. My brother knocks the air out of my lungs with his enormous bear hug.

  We are in the Rath House because this is where I have chosen to be crowned.

  Elise flaps her hands at Macsen. “Don’t crush her dress.”

  The way he grins back at her and drawls, “Yes, Ma’am,” makes me narrow my eyes between them. Before I can think too much about whether there’s something going on between them that I don’t know about, Mom squeezes my hand and says, “We’re so proud of you, sweetheart. You have brought peace to our land.”

  Baelen prowls up behind me, dressed in full Rath armor. He whisks me down the hallway while my family follows. I wanted to have my coronation in the courtyard at the front of the house, but Talia insisted I needed to be somewhere up high where everyone can see me. The Rath mansion is built with a wide, flat roof from which soldiers can be stationed with a view in both directions. It’s a good compromise. We climb the wide staircase that opens out onto the back of the roof. My family wasn’t allowed near me when I was officially named the Storm Princess. Now they will stand beside me for my coronation.

  The Phoenix waits for us, guarding the elven crown that sits on a tall pedestal at the front of the roof. It was Llion who came up with the solution for wearing both crowns at the same time, simply lifting the elven crown and placing it on top of my headpiece. Since my headpiece has a flat band at the top, the more elaborate crown only needed a size adjustment to sit neatly on top of it. He did a perfect job.

  The Phoenix’s body provides a screen against the crowds. I can already sense the mass of gargoyles and elves who wait for my appearance. I take a deep breath, too far back to be visible to them yet.

  I’ve barely taken a step with Elise and Talia at my side when a form streaks down from the sky, speeding in from the mountains. Grayson drops from the sky, his golden wings curved to slow his incredible speed. He slams down onto the roof, Baelen-style, wrapping his wings into his sides in a fluid movement. He is filthy with mud streaked across his cheeks and chest, splattered across his wings, and coating his boots. His destination is Talia who has frozen beside me.

  He takes a knee, head down, holding his hands up to her, palms cupped one beneath the other. Inside his upper hand is a beautiful, white chrysalis flower.

  Talia glares at it. She swipes it out of his hand, waiting for him to say something. He stays perfectly still, head down, hands raised as if the flower is still inside them, bowed, waiting, allowing her to choose her reaction. His only movement is his rapid breathing. He could have transported himself instantly from the wastelands but he chose to deliver it the right way—by flying his heart out to get it here before it wilts.

  The tension releases from her body. She bends carefully in her dress, crouching and using her wings to maintain balance so she can rest at eye level with him. “Grayson?”

  He fixates on a spot on the ground but for the barest second, his gaze flicks to hers and away again.

  “Look,” she says, waiting for him to do as she asks. When he meets her eyes, she closes her fist around the flower. “Watch what happens.”

  When she opens her fist, the flower is crushed, bruised, but the petals slowly blush pink in the middle, swirling to gold at the edges. Its calming scent washes over all of us.

  Talia says, “It was crushed and hurt, but now it is even stronger.”

  His lips part. She is leaning so close to him that their faces are only inches from each other. His chest rises, inhaling, and it’s obvious that it’s not only the flower’s scent that mesmerizes him. He says, “I’m sorry I knocked you out on the cliff that night.”

  “Well… I was about to kill you.” She sighs. “We are both changed now, Grayson. You are kinder. And I… am fiercer.”

  She rises up, head high, throwing back to me before she strides toward the Phoenix, “Marbella, if you will?”

  Grayson can’t take his eyes off her as she glides away. He shakes himself, adjusting his wings as he rises to a standing position. “Forgive my appearance, Supreme Incorruptible.”

  “Forgiven.”

  He takes a position at the back of the rooftop as Baelen and I proceed to the front. The Phoenix greets me with a nod before moving to the side, revealing thousands of gargoyles and elves gathered in every available space in the courtyard, across the gardens, down the slope, and even on the rooftops of nearby buildings.

  A roar goes up as I appear and it takes a full five minutes for it to die down. Elise spellcasts her voice to project clearly to the farthest onlookers. “Our people, today we crown and mark our Queen!”

  This time it takes forever for the cheering crowd to calm down. The crown resting on the pedestal sparkles in the sunlight. It matches the golden flecks in my ivory gown. The dress I wear has two circular cut-outs on either side of my waist that Baelen found irresistible while we were getting dressed, but they serve an important purpose today.

  Elise lifts my united crown from the pedestal. At the same time, Talia places her open palm against the bare skin on my left hip. As Elise lowers the crown onto my head, she and Talia speak in turns, their voices projected as loud as thunder across the lan
dscape.

  Elise smiles, “We crown you…”

  “And mark you…”

  “Queen of Erawind…”

  “Supreme Incorruptible of Erador.”

  And together, they say my name, “Marbella Mercy.”

  The crown is light as it nestles onto my head and Talia’s touch is gentle. As she removes her hand, I’m amazed to see the simple mark she has placed on me: a golden circle, representing life.

  I can’t help it. I’m glowing.

  Two steps behind me, Mom is crying and smiling with Dad and Macsen at her side. Below us in the courtyard, all of my friends and loved ones have gathered, all of the miners and elves who fought beside me and for me: Reisha and my Storm Command beaming with pride; Jordan and Sebastian, whose love for each other inspired me; Llion and Liliana who fought so hard to be together; Roar and Gilda who proved that love can conquer anything; and Indira and Erit holding their two tiny babies: new life, the future of our country.

  And Baelen… my heart, my love, my forever.

  Their voices rise up in unison, a swelling roar. “Supreme Incorruptible, Queen Marbella Mercy, we honor you.”

  My heart is full as I lift my voice and my arms to my people. “I am honored.”

  Assassin’s Magic #1 by Everly Frost

  Everly Frost has an exciting new series, available for pre-order now: Link

  Blurb:

  Is love worth the danger?

  When Hunter Cassidy plans to infiltrate the Assassin's Legion, posing as an assassin-in-training, she is prepared to encounter danger every step of the way. What she doesn't expect is the ruggedly handsome and relentlessly fierce trainee, Slade Baines.

  It's hard enough that Hunter is the first female to be accepted to train with the Master Assassin himself. Even when she beats the other candidates, the Master ranks her lowest of all. In the male-dominated Legion, the other trainees see her as a weak link to be driven out of their ranks.