“No, I can’t let you. It’s me she wants. Once she has me, she will withdraw her army.”
“She will never do such a thing,” Tristan snarled.
Rafe walked over and put his arm around my waist, pulling me to him. “I am never letting you go alone, and that’s not up for discussion.”
“I, for one, have been waiting to get my hands on those dark fae.” Tristan drew his sword and threw a quick glance at Ashara. “What about you, witch?”
Ashara smiled, and the jewels on her staff started to glow. “Only if you let me go first, fae.”
The dark prince’s face lit up. “Fine, but just this once.”
Penelope clapped her hands together. “Now that that’s settled—” she gave our little band a once-over, “—let’s go.”
The Duke of Silverthorne’s voice bellowed over the battlements as he called for the gates to be opened. I drew Dawn and walked out onto the battlefield, flanked by Rafe, Tristan, and Ashara. Penelope, my father, Silverthorne, and Santino followed close behind.
My heart hammered in my chest. I ran my fingers over the Dagger at my belt. I had one chance to end this war.
“Lay down your weapons,” Morgana warned as we strode toward her. “If you accept me as your queen, you will be pardoned. Fight me, and all of you shall die here today.” Her voice grew, reaching a crescendo; she seemed to love to hear herself speak. “Surrender, Dawnstar, and your friends can return to their mundane lives.”
My father stepped out from behind me and faced her. His raven hair was neatly cut, although now generously peppered with silver strands. His beard, which had grown quite unruly in captivity, had been trimmed. He looked every inch the king he once had been. “That’s my crown you’re wearing, Morgana.”
A gasp went up from both sides, and everyone stilled. Azaren Firedrake was their true king, and everyone knew it.
Morgana reeled back at the sight of him. “It can’t be.”
The demon army became restless behind their queen. Drakaar and dark fae looked on with ravenous eyes, Shadow Demons swirling around them. Gorgoths hovered above, shrieking and waiting to pounce on us.
“Oh, but it is.” I smiled at my enemy. I called out to her army. “Soldiers of Illiador, you fight for a usurper. Azaren Firedrake is your king, and he is very much alive. Join me now, and fight for us, fight for Avalonia!”
A cheer went up from within Morgana’s army as the mages of Illiador realized what was happening and that what I said was true.
I raised my arm, the Dagger of Dragath flashing in my hand as I held it up for all to see. “The general is dead, Morgana.” I paused as her eyes betrayed her horror. “And so is Dragath.”
Another gasp from the army.
“Impossible!” yelled Morgana.
I grinned. “You always say that, Morgana. But I think I have proved to you time and time again that nothing is impossible.”
I felt a shift in the air around me as two brown-robed monks appeared beside me, the tops of their staffs glowing with a pure white light.
“Druids!” hissed Morgana. “I thought the general got rid of your pesky kind.”
“He tried,” Victor nodded. “But now he is gone, and the curse has been lifted.” His spine straightened as the old druid pulled himself up to his full height and pointed his staff at Morgana. “We came to assist the Dawnstar.”
“Surrender, Morgana,” I urged. “Give up this foolish pursuit of power, and I will spare your life.”
“Never!” growled the usurper queen. Skye raised a sword to Aiden’s throat. “If you make a move, your High Fae minion will die.” The blade in Skye’s hand gleamed obsidian. If his throat was cut with her blade, Aiden would surely die.
Morgana smiled, reached into her cloak, and took out the Book of Abraxas.
“You think you have won.” Her eyes strayed to my companions. “But I still have the book, and I know how to use it.”
Tristan growled at the sight of it, and a ball of silver fire hurtled toward Morgana. She held up her hand and a shield formed around her. The silver fire hit it with such force that it raced over the shield in a wave of fury, scorching the ground around her. But Morgana remained unharmed, protected by magic from the ancient book. Only Abraxas could destroy the Book of Power, and the book seemed to protect itself as well as its bearer.
Morgana laughed hysterically. Wind whipped around her, churning up the earth as she read from the Book of Abraxas. Beside her, a portal started to open. “With this book, I can summon others like Dragath.” Her eyes gleamed with the prospect. “I will summon an army of them.”
I held out my hand, unleashing a wave of scorching white light at her, battering her shield, but the magic of the Book of Abraxas was too powerful. Even my magic could not get through her shield. “Don’t do it, Morgana. Something worse than Dragath could come through that portal.”
“That’s what I’m counting on,” Morgana sneered. “I will be Queen of Avalonia, whatever it takes.” She raised her hand in the air and dark shadows wound around the portal. Something was forcing its way through.
Tristan and Ashara moved forward to meet whatever it was.
I blasted more magic at her shield, this time aiming for the portal, but the magic of the Book of Abraxas protected it.
“We must get her to drop the shield. The book is protecting itself. If I can get past its shield, I can destroy it once and for all,” said the great dragon, his voice tense. “Have faith in yourself, Aurora. You can do this.”
I nodded as three demonic creatures, eyes dark as night, ravenous with the need to devour souls, stepped out of the portal.
Tristan’s sword lit up, and Ashara’s staff glowed.
Sebastian and Victor drew runes on the ground beside me. The army at my back tensed.
“No one can stop me now,” Morgana shrieked as her demonic creatures shifted toward us, ready to pounce.
In that moment I instinctively knew what to do.
“I was born to stop you, Morgana.” My resolve was clear—this time I would not fail.
I held up the Dagger of Dragath and gathered my magic. We needed more warriors, and if my grandmother could not send the fae army in time, then I would summon my own.
I bent my knee and swiftly plunged the Dark Dagger into the ground, into the very heart of Avalonia itself, sending out a call of ancient magic, the power of summons, a call of light.
“Warriors of Illaria, hear me now! Cast off the veil of darkness that keeps you from this world. Rise and fight! Defend Avalonia.” My voice rose to a crescendo as the ancient magic of Illaria Lightbringer arose once more. “The Dawnstar summons you!”
Both armies stilled.
Over the horizon where the sun crested the hills beyond the plains, a mighty force reared its fearsome head. Magic crackled and the sky lit up as a power older than time itself awoke.
I looked to the east. Sunlight glinted off the shields of an ancient army, swords flashing with silver fire.
The fire-fae warriors of Illaria Lightbringer! Thousands of them!
At the helm, her white-and-gold cloak spread out behind her like wings billowing in the wind, stood my mother in full battle regalia, resplendent and shining like the morning sun.
Morgana wavered at the sight of Illaria’s immortal warriors, and her shield fell.
She dropped the book.
“Abraxas!” I screamed, summoning the great dragon.
Abraxas roared, a sound that could be heard at the very ends of the world.
Morgana shrieked in terror as dragon-fire engulfed her and the Book of Abraxas in a flaming ball, burning brighter than the sun itself. Everyone shielded their eyes as the great dragon appeared. Morgana and the Book of Abraxas were reduced to ashes where she stood.
With the book gone, the portal closed.
A burst of silver fire erupted near Skye as Aiden broke out of his bonds, grabbed the obsidian blade from Skye’s hand, and plunged it into his sister’s stomach.
Elayna Fi
redrake raised her sword, and it flashed silver with a fire deadly to demons and darkness alike. “For Avalonia!”
“For the Dawnstar!” shouted the mages, the witches, and the Brandorians.
“For the Dragon Queen!” shouted the fae army as a massive wave of ancient fire-fae warriors crashed into Morgana’s demon horde, swords blazing.
They cleaved through the darkness, making way for the age of light.
The Return of the Dragon Queen
The ballroom at the Star Palace in Illiador glittered with a thousand stars, magically floating around the great arched ceiling.
I smiled. This was definitely Penelope and my mother’s doing, I could tell. It was made to look like the throne room at the Crystal Castle.
My father sat on his throne, regal and happy, with my mother, the love of his life, at his side. Tristan stood close by with Ashara. They had become rather attached to each other recently.
I stood at the foot of the stairs leading to the dais and looked over at my parents. Of course Rafe wasn’t here. He had to return to Eldoren and deal with restoring his own kingdom. But he did promise to return, and this time I had no reason to doubt he would. But in that moment in time, there was nowhere else I would rather be. My heart swelled with a feeling I wasn’t very familiar with—happiness.
Magic shimmered in the ballroom, and a portal opened. My grandmother stepped out, followed by Tristan’s father Kildaren and his grandmother Rhiannon, the Dowager Duchess of the Night Court.
Everyone stilled. The Queen of Elfi never left her kingdom, and she had certainly never traveled to Illiador before. Not even for her daughter’s wedding.
Queen Elayna Firedrake got up from her throne. “Greetings, Mother.”
The fae queen’s golden eyes flashed as she regarded her daughter. “I almost didn’t believe it when Penelope told me,” she murmured. “I had to come and see for myself.” And for the first time in over a hundred years, the queen of the fae let a single tear fall from her eye. It vanished as soon as it appeared, of course, but I had seen it. She held out her hands. “Come, my daughter. Let me look at you.”
My mother glided down the stairs gracefully and clasped her mother’s hands in hers. They regarded each other silently, and then my grandmother turned to me.
“You have done well, Aurora,” said the queen of the fae. “You have achieved the impossible, and for this, you deserve to be happy. I may have made a mistake with your mother. But I won’t make the same mistake with you.”
I smiled at my grandmother. “So you don’t intend to force me to marry Tristan?”
My grandmother shook her head. “No. I don’t.” She clasped her hands together. “But it seems it’s not in my hands anymore.”
My eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”
Kildaren stepped forward, a cruel smile on his lips. “What she is trying to tell you, dear daughter-in-law-to-be, is your betrothal to my son was magically binding. It cannot be dissolved unless it is proved that the betrothal was done without your consent.” He smiled at me, his white teeth flashing in an unkind grin. “And you did agree to it at the time, did you not, Dawnstar? Or should I call you Dragon Queen now?”
I ignored his jibe about my latest title. “Yes, I did agree, but . . .”
Kildaren held up his hand. “It doesn’t matter why you said yes, the fact remains that you did.” He turned to my father. “King Azaren, I’m sure you are aware of the protocol for these things.”
My father, who had been watching quietly, got up from his gilded throne and walked down the short set of white marble stairs to stand beside my mother.
He looked at me sternly. “Aurora, did you agree to this?”
I nodded. “I was tricked, and Tristan is bound by an oath, so he had to say yes.” I had to be concise before someone interrupted me again. I couldn’t believe my family was really going to force me to marry Tristan on a technicality when neither of us wanted it.
My father shook his head. “It doesn’t matter why you said yes. The grand duke is right. If you willingly agreed to the betrothal, you cannot break it without a very good reason.”
“I have a very good reason,” I said, throwing my arms in the air. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. Tristan and I don’t love each other. I am and always have been in love with Rafe. Everyone knows that. Even Tristan.”
Rhiannon stepped forward to stand beside her son, Kildaren. I saw her eyeing Tristan and Ashara in her peripheral vision. I could tell she was not happy about his association with a witch. “Love is not enough. Why don’t you young ones ever listen?”
Kildaren sneered at me. I knew all he wanted from me was to breed a more powerful line of magic into the Night Court bloodline, giving him more powerful heirs.
“Let me get this straight,” said my father, rubbing his short beard. “Prince Tristan doesn’t want to marry you either?” He looked at Tristan, who came to stand beside me.
“My father may wish for me to marry Aurora,” said Tristan, “but I do not.” He narrowed his eyes at my grandmother and his. “Izadora’s oath keeps me from following my true feelings.” His eyes strayed to Ashara, who was standing behind my parents, tall and proud, a powerful warrior in her own right.
Then my grandmother did the most unexpected thing. “I release you from your oath, Tristan. You have more than paid your dues.” I could feel the power pass between them, severing the magical binding.
Tristan’s eyes widened. None of us had expected her to break their bond.
I smiled and so did Tristan as he bowed to his queen, gratitude visible in his midnight-blue eyes.
Kildaren’s dark eyes swirled with silver sparks as he regarded his son. Sinister shadows seemed to twist around him. “It doesn’t matter if his oath has been fulfilled.” He eyed my father. “They both agreed to it, and you cannot break a magical contract, mage,” he spat. “Do you really want to make an enemy of the fae, King Azaren?”
I stepped in front of my parents, my voice deceptively calm as my magic started to roil up inside me. “Are you threatening my parents, Kildaren?” My hands started to glow with ancient magic, and a shadow passed across the room. The castle rumbled as Abraxas settled himself on the highest tower and roared.
For the first time, I saw a spark of fear in Kildaren’s eyes as he took a step back. “You cannot break a betrothal without a good enough reason,” he repeated.
My father gave me a wry smile. His voice was stern, but there was a twinkle in his emerald-green eyes, so similar to my own. “Aurora, please tell your dragon to be careful. This is a very old castle, after all.”
I smirked, nodding as I crossed my arms in front of me.
Rhiannon stepped in. “My son, Kildaren, is right. You agreed to it. Now it must be upheld.”
My mother clasped her husband’s hand, her beautiful blue eyes wide with worry. “Azaren, you cannot let them do this. Our daughter deserves a chance at happiness. She deserves to have a choice.”
Azaren patted his wife’s hand. “Don’t worry so much, my love.” My father turned his attention to Kildaren and Rhiannon. “If the betrothal is not valid in the first place, then that is another matter altogether. Is it not?”
Kildaren’s eyes narrowed and he sneered. “You can’t prove that.”
“But I can,” said Rafe, as the great double doors to the throne room opened, and the King of Eldoren strode in. He looked dashingly handsome as always, especially with his midnight-blue cloak swirling around him. His storm-gray eyes flashed with anger.
My heart skipped a beat like it always did when Rafe walked into a room. What was he doing here? When we parted after the battle, Rafe returned to Eldoren. He had said he would be back, although I hadn’t thought he would come so soon. But it didn’t matter why he had come. He was here, and that was all that mattered.
My brows furrowed. Rafe was accompanied by none other than the Duke of Silverthorne. They were all up to something. I couldn’t help but smile then. If Silverthorne was here, t
hen he must have a plan. My granduncle always had a plan or two up his sleeve. It’s what earned him his newest title of kingmaker.
My father ignored Kildaren and smiled at Silverthorne. “Do you have it, Gabriel?”
The Duke of Silverthorne nodded. He looked solemn, but there was a spark in his azure-blue eyes. I knew that look; it was the same look he had when he could see all his plans falling into place. I wondered how he was going to fix this mess.
Rafe held up an old worn scroll and handed it to Silverthorne.
I stepped closer and my eyes widened. I recognized the scroll. It was the same one Rafe had been searching for that night in Silverthorne Castle when I found him in my granduncle’s study. I wondered what could be so important about it that Rafe had gone looking for it in the middle of a war when the world was falling apart around us.
Kildaren stepped forward and snatched it out of my granduncle’s hand before he could give it to my father. “What’s this?” He opened the scroll and read it, his eyes widening as his mouth fell open.
“That, I believe,” said my father, stepping in, “is a contract. One that was made a very long time ago. The year Aurora was born.”
My eyes widened like Kildaren’s. I wasn’t expecting that. I looked at Rafe. “What contract?”
Rafe glanced at my father and back at me. His eyes softened. “Shall I continue?”
My father waved his hand. “Please do.”
“This contract,” said Rafe, gesturing to the scroll clutched in Kildaren’s hand, “is a betrothal contract made by King Azaren of Illiador and my father, King Petrocales of Eldoren. The contract between Tristan and Aurora has never been valid, since Princess Aurora Firedrake of Illiador was betrothed from the day she was born—” he paused, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he slipped his hand through mine, and announced, “—to me. Prince Rafael Ravenswood, now King of Eldoren.”
My mother’s face broke into a smile, and Penelope sniggered as she caught my grandmother’s eye. I couldn’t help the wide grin that had started to spread across my face.
Izadora smiled faintly at her sister and moved forward, holding out her hand. “Let me see the contract.”
The Return of the Dragon Queen Page 32
