Throne of Magic

by H. D. Gordon

  Dagon’s face suggested that he knew holding his stare was more than a feat, and a touch of amusement and perhaps some admiration passed over his fine features, but when he spoke, any jest that had been was gone, as if wiped cleanly away.

  “You’ve come to tell me to stop?” Dagon said. “Or you’ll do what? Your family owes me a debt, and I’m only making sure it gets paid.”

  This was the first of any debt she’d heard of, but Surah’s face remained impassive. “I am the last of my blood, and I owe you nothing, Dark Lord.”

  Dagon wagged a finger at her, his forked tongue—the only part of him that was not disguised—flicking out across his lips.

  “Your great grandfather made a deal with me, child, and that deal has not been honored. You come here not even knowing the truth of your lineage,” he laughed again. “Did you never wonder how your family came to hold the Sorcerer throne? Did they leave the tale out of your bedtime stories, dearest princess?”

  Uncertainty spiraled through Surah as she took in what he was saying. She found she had to swallow before she could speak, and she could feel Charlie’s confused eyes on her.

  “I’m a queen now, Dagon,” she said. “Thanks to you.”

  The Dark Lord smiled, forked tongue whipping out and disappearing again. “It is thanks to me, and you’re welcome.”

  An uncharacteristic anger washed over her so completely that she nearly dropped the barrier spell and charged the Dark Lord. Had Charlie not reached out and placed his hand on her arm, she would have.

  “Careful,” Charlie whispered. “That’s what he wants.”

  Dagon finally paid Charlie some heed, distain filling his face as his eyes flicked between the two of them.

  “Ah, yes, and you must be Charlie,” he said. “Your brother and his Fae lover also owed me a debt.” He nodded toward Surah. “And they paid it with her father’s life.”

  Charlie met the Dark Lord’s glare and said nothing.

  Dagon paid this no mind, as if he neither expected nor wanted a response from Charlie. His gaze returned to Surah. The Dark Lord moved closer now, so close that he could kiss the invisible barrier between them. Surah was unaware of it, but she was holding her breath.

  “But my debt with you has yet to be settled,” he whispered, the sound of his voice sickeningly intimate.

  The clenching of Surah’s fists was the only physical indicator of the cocktail of emotions swirling through her, and she had her royal upbringing to thank for that. If what Dagon was saying was true, everything she’d believed her entire life had been a lie.

  Her curiosity got the best of her, and she asked the obvious question.

  “You claim my ancestors made a deal with you to take the Sorcerer throne,” she said. “What do you think is owed?”

  Dagon grinned. “An heir, of course,” he said, his voice once again a whisper. His black eyes ran the length of her, and if she didn’t know better, Surah would have sworn there were slimy insects crawling over her skin.

  For the life of her, she couldn’t think of a thing to say to this. Her face drained of color at the implications. This only made the Dark Lord’s smile grow wider still. His hand came up, his porcelain fingers stroking the barrier between them, making Surah shiver despite the heat.

  “You want me to stop sending my children topside to your Territory?” Dagon whispered, his voice low and deep, echoing slightly in her ears. “Just drop your magic and we can settle it right here.”

  His black eyes flashed red as he jerked his head toward Charlie, gaze never straying from her.

  “He can watch.” Dagon said, his fingers continuing to stroke the invisible barrier separating them. “I’ll show him how to really please his woman.”

  Any intimidation or fear Surah could have been feeling melted away, replaced with a fire as bright and hot as those surrounding them in this cursed place.

  Her pretty features were relaxed, composed, but her knuckles were bone-white where they clutched at the Black Stone.

  When she spoke, her voice came out eerily calm, her violet eyes holding his stare with the strength of a ruler—of a Goddess in her own right.

  “I owe you nothing, Dagon,” Surah said. “Send them topside again, and I’ll bathe my land in the blood of your Demons, and after I do that, I’ll come back here and remove that forked tongue from your mouth, after I separate your shoulders from your head.”

  Rage filled Dagon’s face, and for a flash of a moment, his true form was visible, the handsome façade melting away to reveal scaled and ridged skin, clawed hands and feet, black, loathsome wings that spanned twenty feet when extended.

  It was only a glimpse, but it terrified her, and she held tighter still to the Black Stone hanging around her neck.

  She portaled herself and Charlie out of there, despite the fact that she’d failed this mission of attempted diplomacy.

  Somewhere, between slaughtering the Demons and speaking with the Dark Lord controlling them, she had lost sight of this, reveling in the power she felt with the Black Stone hanging around her neck.

  They landed back in the cabin, and Surah gave pause at the look Charlie gave her when his shock over the portaling out of the Underworld wore off.

  He looked the way a man might when approaching a tiger… cautious. His green eyes flicked between the Black Stone and her face, and he spoke slowly.

  “Maybe you should take that thing off now,” he suggested.

  Irritation swirled in Surah, and her eyes flashed with something that made Charlie flinch. This diffused her a bit, and she released a heavy breath and lifted the stone off of her neck, tucking it back into her cloak.

  Charlie, still moving with caution, removed her piece of White Stone from his neck and slipped it over her head, hesitating only a moment before placing a gentle kiss on her forehead.

  Surah closed her eyes, leaning into his touch, letting him pull the darkness out of her with just his proximity. She was afraid to ask, but she had to know.

  “Why’d you look at me like that, Charlie?” she said.

  He pulled her closer, his arms going about her waist, and his eyes filling with a wonder that she hoped she would never stop evoking in him.

  “Because you can be pretty damn scary sometimes, love,” Charlie whispered, one corner of his mouth pulling up as he tucked a piece of her lavender hair behind her ear.

  Resting her head against his chest, she squeezed her eyes shut, listening to the beating of his heart.

  “Charlie,” she said, her voice coming out a whisper, “If what Dagon said is true—”

  Charlie shook his head, tilting her chin up with his fingers so that she had to look at him.

  “It doesn’t matter, Surah,” he said. “No matter how your family came to the throne, it doesn’t matter. You’re a better ruler for our kind than Black Heart and Tristell.”

  A tear fell from one of her eyes, though she had not been aware that she was on the verge of crying.

  “But—”

  Charlie shook his head again. “But nothing,” he said, brushing away the tear with his thumb. “All that matters now is that we finish what we started.”

  When she had a moment to breathe, Surah was sure that she would have to sort through some of the new things she was learning about herself, but now was not that time, and she knew what Charlie was saying, and that he was right.

  This needed to be over. Lives needed to be taken. The scales needed to be tipped, one way or the other. And whether her family had come by the throne by ill means or not, she wasn’t going down without a fight.

  Gods help us all, she thought, and hugged her lover for what she hoped would not be the last time.

  Chapter 27

  Samson

  “I was beginning to think I’d have to come find you,” said Drake, King of the Beasts.

  Samson said nothing, only sat where he was, his demeanor relaxed despite what lie ahead. He knew Drake was referring to the fact that Samson had been absent all these years, and t
hat he had expected Sam to shirk his responsibilities, as he had done in the past.

  But it wasn’t as simple as that. Samson had not asked to be betrothed to Mila (this was not to say he didn’t have a certain affection for her, because he did) and he had not asked to be rescued by Surah all those years ago, and to fall so deeply in love with her that he could not bear to leave her, despite the difficulties of living among two-legs for such a long time.

  “I’m here,” Sam replied, when the silence between them stretched on too long.

  Drake considered him a moment, his amber cat-eyes as piercing as a gaze could be. His long tail flicked lazily behind him, his head tilting as he looked at Sam.

  “Yes,” he agreed, “you are here in form… but your mind is elsewhere.”

  The King of the Beasts fell silent again, settling down on the ridge on which the two cats sat, looking out at the jungle below, at the kingdom, which stretched on as far as the eye could see, a rich green crowned with wisps of white cottony clouds.

  “It’s a curious thing,” Drake added. “Your affection for the two-leg. In truth, I’m not sure how it can even be. In all my years, I’ve never known any beast to do as you’ve done.”

  There was a certain distain in the king’s voice that Sam didn’t miss. His throat felt tight, and he settled down beside the king, taking in the sights as well. It would be a lie to say he hadn’t missed the fresh air here, the land untouched by man.

  “It’s a curiosity to me as well,” Sam replied. “I didn’t choose to love her. I didn’t choose any of it. It just is.”

  Drake considered this, the sound of the jungle filling the space between their exchanges.

  “I’m conflicted over you, son,” the king said at last. “Half of me is so tired, so ready to be done with this world and move on to the next, to relinquish my title and pass on the crown… but the other half of me doesn’t trust the pride to you. Tell me… should you win tonight, where will your loyalties lie, with the pride, or the Sorceress?”

  Samson chose his next words carefully. He refused to lie to the king. He respected Drake too much for that.

  “If I should win tonight, I will do my best to rule justly. That’s all I can promise you, Drake.”

  The king’s amber gaze flicked over to Sam, looking at him out of the corner of his eye. “My daughter is in love with you, Samson… You are aware of this, are you not?”

  Sam suppressed a sigh; it was a two-leg quality that the king would not appreciate.

  “I am,” he said.

  “She mourned for you when we thought you’d died. I thought that girl would never stop skulking about.”

  Sam stared out at the green canopies of the jungle rustling gently in the breeze. Tonight, when the sun set over this land from which he’d hailed, he would face Drake in a battle where only one cat would walk away.

  The pride would gather around them in the clearing, and the two would fight to the death, the victor taking the title of King of the Beasts.

  It was a destiny that had been chosen for Sam long ago by his parents, the path that he’d strayed from, knowing that someday he would be led back to it, for one could only avoid their fate for so long.

  After some time, Drake took to his paws, stretching his long body the way only a cat can. He was bigger than Samson, his form all sinew and muscle, built for the kill. His long tail flicked lazily behind him, and he lifted his head and sniffed at the air.

  “Come, my son,” the king said. “Let us catch a meal and dine together.” His cat eyes flicked to Sam, and there was sympathy there. “For one of us, it will be the last.”

  Sam took to his paws as well, following behind the King of the Beasts much like a man accepting his sentence, having a last meal and taking his last walk.

  It didn’t take long for the two to find a Great Stag and take it down, though the buck fought with impressive force.

  As Sam ate, he thought of his Sorceress, wondering if he would ever see her again, if he would ever get to feel her fingers running through his fur, or hear her sweet voice in his head one last time.

  Sometime between taking his last bites and the sun making its way across the sky, sinking into the trees and giving way to the light blue hue of twilight, Samson decided it didn’t matter. If today he should meet his end, it really didn’t matter. Had he the chance to go back and do it all over again, he would do everything exactly the same way.

  Because it had been worth it. His time with the Sorceress Surah Stormsong, the bond they shared and the feelings he never would’ve experienced without her, were all so much more than worth it, and if this marked the end of his life, he would say that it was a life well spent.

  A life beside his Surah was as good as it got, and a death in her name was all the more beautiful. Because that was really what it came down to, and both alpha cats knew it. The reason he was here, the reason Sam would not run, but instead would face his fate, as unfortunate as it may be.

  If Sam hadn’t come, Drake would’ve come after his Surah, and Samson could not allow that. As the day wasted away, passing with no regard as to the consequences, Sam thought only of her, of their time together, and for the first time in his life, he sent up a silent prayer.

  He prayed only that Surah was safe, and that no matter what happened, she would come out the other end of all this on top. For that, Samson would die a thousand deaths, would face a million Kings of Beasts.

  “Say your goodbyes, Samson,” Drake told him, looking up from his meal, rough tongue licking the blood-covered fur of his mouth.

  It was not a threat, merely a piece of advice the king had clearly spoken to dozens before him.

  Drake stood, his belly full of the deer they’d taken down and his eyes void of emotion, and slipped away into the trees, the jungles growing silent as he passed through them.

  Sam watched him go, experiencing an emotion only ever brought on by the idea of losing his mistress.

  Samson realized with a start that he was scared. Tonight would decide not only his fate, but also that of all those in the pride.

  Tonight, he would either die a disappointment, or triumph a king.

  Chapter 28

  Surah

  “I don’t agree with this at all,” Charlie said, for what must’ve been the millionth time.

  Surah sighed, knowing that she would say the same in his position, but being no less irritated with the knowledge.

  “You can’t very well return to the castle with me, Charlie,” she said, for what also was the millionth time. “There’s really nothing else you can do right now.”

  They were back at Aria’s apartment, and the young Halfling girl was watching the exchange with apt attention, clearly pleased that they’d returned. Surah would’ve left Charlie at the cabin, but she knew he would leave if unsupervised, and he had seemed to take a liking to Aria.

  Surah decided to try a different tactic. She lowered her voice now. “Also, you need to look after the girl,” she added. “Aria could be in danger if anyone finds out she helped you escape.”

  “No one is going to find out,” Aria chimed in, and cringed a bit when Surah’s eyes flashed at her. She shrugged. “They won’t, though. My people are good at staying under the radar. No one knows of my involvement except my superiors and you two.”

  “Thank you,” Surah snapped, not meaning to sound as harsh as the words came out. She was still very much feeling the effects of the Black Stone, and she clamped down on her uncharacteristic anger so as not to make it so obvious.

  Charlie was looking at her with narrowed eyes, not fooled. He placed a hand on her arm, and lifted it away when this only seemed to further her anger.

  “Using all that dark magic wasn’t good for you, Surah,” he said, wary.

  Surah took a deep breath, knowing she was directing the dark emotions at the wrong people. “I won’t argue with that,” she said. “But you and I both know you can’t return with me to our land. I can’t defend the kingdom if I’m worried about prote
cting you.” Her voice was smaller as she said this last part.

  Charlie shook his head, chuckling without humor. “You make me sound like a damsel in distress,” he said. “I can take care of myself, love. But how can I sit here while you go off to fight a Dark Lord and a crazy Fae Queen?”

  Suddenly, Surah was angry again. She needed to get a hold of herself. She’d underestimated the effects of the dark magic.

  “Charlie,” she said slowly, between clenched teeth, “I don’t want to, but if I must, I’ll tie you to a chair and force you to stay here.”

  “I’ll make sure he stays, Queen Surah,” Aria said, her green eyes flicking quickly between the two of them. “No need to tie him to a chair.” She held up two fingers. “Scout’s honor.”

  Surah had no idea what a “Scout’s honor” was, and this must’ve been evident on her face. Aria sighed and waved a hand.

  “Never mind,” Aria said. “It’s a human thing. It means you have my word.”

  Surah eyed the girl. “And if he decides to leave, how will you stop him?”

  Aria shrugged, a half smile pulling up her lips. “I could always knock him over the head,” she grinned. “But I have other talents…”

  She hopped up from where she’d been sitting on the couch, surrounded by her enormous books. Stopping in front of Surah, Aria held her hands out. “Here,” she said. “I can show you if you want.”

  Staring at Aria’s hands, Surah raised an eyebrow. “What are you doing, child?”

  Aria laughed. “Just take my hands, your majesty, so I can show you.”

  Surah looked at Charlie, who shrugged. He was apparently as clueless about the abilities of Halflings as she was. Sighing, Surah pulled her gloves from her hands and tucked them under her arms. With narrowed eyes, she placed her hands in Aria’s.