by Angel Lawson
Bunny stares between the two of us. I’m unsure if he can hear our conversation. Anand tilts her head and says, “On the other hand, if you wanted to kill him, be my guest.”
Bunny’s wide eyes confirm that yes, he can hear our discussion.
“Me?”
“Far be it for me to judge a woman scored. I’ve burned a swath of revenge across this entire land. Bunny’s sins are his to contend with and yours to execute.” She takes a sip of wine. “But if I were you, I’d enjoy a slow and painful death.”
Anita laughs, choking on her wine, finding the entire thing hilarious. Three days with these lunatics, then I can take them down once and for all.
From his spot at the lower table, Bunny makes eye contact and I hold his gaze, unwilling to look away. My rage is palpable. My heart destroyed. The Morrigan knows me better than I assumed because slow and painful is exactly how I’d fantasized his death would be.
4
Bunny
Sitting in such proximity to Morgan is unbearable. So much so that the instant the Queen is distracted I escape the grand hall, bolting for my castle tower studio for a moment of peace.
I pass few people on the way to my studio, most still enjoying the entertainment and revelry of the banquet. The soldiers pay me little attention. They see me as nothing more than a pawn, a way to help the queen get her way, and I’m well aware she only keeps me around for my abilities.
Oh, and a reason to taunt Morgan.
Gods above, Morgan.
Seeing her in that dress, the way it accentuated all of her delicious curves, her presence, her beauty made men stop and stare at her. There was no doubt why The Morrigan needed her to bond. She was the epitome of youth and life.
I wasn’t sure what would happen when she saw me, if she’d leap over the table to throttle my neck, but the feeling the magic spark between us. The fates know we are still destined, but what I’ve done complicates things.
Actions can carry more weight than even fate.
I step into the room and busy myself with reigniting the dwindling fire. The wood takes a minute to catch and I lean back on my heels and watch the flame lick around the edges. Once I successfully captured Morgan and turned her over, I was rewarded with a bundle of firewood and a roll of new canvas. I eagerly used the wood while I was unsure what she wanted me to do with the canvas. There’s little doubt she’ll tell me when she’s ready.
The heat warms my small tower room but not the ice in my chest. If looks could kill…there’s no doubt Morgan would have slashed my throat with her dinner knife. I knew she was angry, but I’d hoped that working together to get the other Ravens back home and initiating the plan to end the Morrigan would bring us back together and I could attempt to salvage something between us.
Maybe not what it had been before, but at least perhaps she would listen to my apology. But no, we seem past that.
I don’t blame her.
And I don’t blame my brothers.
The blame lands squarely on my shoulders. I allowed my insecurity, jealousy, and lack of faith in Morgan and the others to put us all at risk. I stand and walk over to the canvas and pick it up one-handed and then roll it across the floor. I stand over the beige fabric and flick the blade from my razor open, thumbing the sharp edge.
I’ll have to figure out another way to get Morgan to forgive me, not only because I want her to understand but because there’s no way for her to win against the Morrigan without me.
Until then, I consider, kneeling on the floor and scoring the canvas with the blade. I’ll cope like I always do. Deep within my art.
5
Morgan
When The Morrigan finally releases us from her never-ending dinner party, I’m past tipsy and on the way to drunk. The wine here is strong, the food salty, and the company unbearable. Nevis escorts me back to my room and I proceed to blabber about my thoughts on everything.
“You’d think, with so much power, the Queen would pick a nicer place to live. Somewhere with central heating and carpets on the rugs. Running water. Electricity.”
We pass a window that looks out onto the desolate landscape. “And a place near the sea. That’s warm. Why not Florida?”
I stumble over the hem of my dress and Nevis grips my arm to hold me upright.
“And Bunny? Did you see him? With his messy bronze hair and those adorable glasses?” I scoff. “I want to punch him in those pretty little lips.”
She stops in front of my chambers and I sway back and forth before leaning against the wooden door.
“He hurt us so bad,” I tell her in a whisper. “Sent my mates to the dungeons to be terrorized and beaten. Separated us, divided us to make me weaker—all for her. I can’t forgive him.”
“Are you sure of his motives?”
“I don’t need to know his motives, Nevis. I saw what he did to the others. What he did to me the last time we were together. I feel my pain and I healed the wounds of my guardians. Forgiveness isn’t an option.” The wine swirls in my belly. “If anything, he deserves what the Morrigan suggested. Death.”
Nevis opens the door to my room and nudges me in. With assistance I make it to the bed, where I push her hands away. Lying face down, the feather pillow envelops me and I grip the mattress. The spinning room finally slows.
“Go away.” I tell her as she starts to help me undress. “I just need to lie here. Just sleep. Now.”
“Morgan.”
“Go.”
I’m half asleep by the time the door clicks shut.
6
Clinton
Cirice pushes the two bottles of ale across the bar and wipes up the wet droplets left behind with a towel. She studies them with her vivid green eyes, the gold flakes sparkling.
I swallow half the ale in one gulp and Sam drowns the whole bottle. It’s been a long day.
“Didn’t know if I’d see either of you back in here again,” the bartender says. Sam pushes his empty bottle toward her and she slides him another. She nods at me. “What about you Clint?”
I guzzle the rest and wipe my mouth. “I’m fine.”
I’m here to assess the crowd, not get trashed. Scanning the crowd, I spot a few familiar faces. The Shaman’s table is empty and as much as I hate it, he’s the one I’m here to see.
“Word in the alley is that you guys came back without Morgan,” Cirice says.
Sam puts down his bottle. “What else did you hear?”
“That you left the prisoner of the Morrigan but came back free men—carrying a cure to the sickness plaguing the city. But you left your girl and one of your guard behind. What gives?”
“How the hell did you hear all that?” I growl.
“Part of the job.” She shrugs and the neon lights behind the bar shine off the top of her smooth head. Her ears point slightly and her canines are a tiny bit elongated. I’ve heard she’s from a fae realm but that’s outside my concern or worry. “But you obviously came here for something. Want to tell me what it is?”
Sam and I share a look, but we both know we’re short on time. Dylan estimates we have three days before the phase of three moons turns full, and that is when the Morrigan will have her ceremony.
“We need fighters. Allies. Anyone willing to go back to the Otherside and fight the Morrigan.”
Her slim eyebrow arches. “You want an army?”
“As many as we can get.”
She holds my eye and I feel like she’s digging into my soul. I don’t know what Cirice’s power is, if she’s gifted in any way, but from the warm charge rolling down my spine there’s no doubt there’s more to her than appears.
Leaning over the counter she says, “I met your girl—the human. She’s strong. Went head-to-head with the Shaman and it seems like maybe she won.”
I keep my face neutral. We never asked how she managed to get us all in and out of the Otherside—even using the tunnel underground. There are rules—balances between the realms. Passage doesn’t come lightly.
&n
bsp; “What’s your point, Cirice?” Sam says.
“Morgan is powerful. She’s smart but she’s also naïve. You have to go into the Morrigan’s castle fully loaded. You don’t just want people in your army. You want fighters. The best.” She looks between us. “People like yourselves.”
An uneasy feeling emerges in my stomach. “What are you thinking?”
The gold in her eyes twinkles. “You need the Legion of Immortals.”
Sam’s jaw drops. “The Six?”
“No.” I hold up my hands. Full stop. No.
“Without them, you’ll lose the war.”
“With them will cause chaos and we’ll all probably die before we even get to the battle,” I snap back.
She rests her hands on her hips. “You know I’m right. And you know they’re exactly what you need.”
“Too bad it’s impossible,” Sam says. “The Shaman owns their contract. I don’t think he’s going to hand them over easily.”
“Nothing is impossible.” The knowing look on her face says it all. “You just have to be willing to fight for it.”
7
Morgan
At some point during the night the walls and floors stop spinning and I fall into an uncomfortable, light sleep. My head pounds at any movement and the sun peeking in the arched, lead glass window makes my brain want to shatter into a million pieces.
“Here,” a voice says. “Drink this.”
I crack an eye through the sharp, spiking pain and see Nevis standing over me with a glass of water.
“Is that the good stuff?” I ask.
“Straight from the source. You’ll feel better soon.”
After three attempts to sit up on my own, Nevis has to help me, navigating the cup near my mouth. I take a sip of the cool water and lie back again.
“God, what happened last night? I just remember lots of wine, loud music, and the Morrigan freaking me out.”
“That about sums it up, although there was the interesting part about the Morrigan trying to get you to kill Bunny.”
I search my memory but mostly I come up with the image of Bunny sitting at the foot of the dais looking handsome and out of my reach. Another sip of water and my brain fog clears and I do recall the faint whispers of The Morrigan, Anand, as she called herself, taunting me with the option to take Bunny out myself. The thought, along with the gallons of wine in my belly makes me nauseous.
I look at Nevis and concede, “If you want me to forgive him and the Queen wants me to kill him, I have to trust that one of you may have a better plan in mind.”
Nevis grins. “I hoped you would come around to seeing that.”
Tears prick to my eyes. “Even though it may not seem like it, I do wish I could forgive Bunny. Wash it all away and make him pure again like this water.” I hold up the glass. “But what he did…it was awful. Unforgiveable.”
Nevis leans over and pushes my hair out of my eyes. It’s a motherly move and in this moment I appreciate it. I’m away from home, without family, and sick. I’m also about to have to make a decision that could alter my life and those of my mates forever.
“I still think you should talk to him and find out why he made his decisions.”
“But…” I swallow back my words and wipe the tears from my eyes.
Nevis frowns. “But what?”
Many of the emotions I’ve been carrying for days erupt in one emotional purge. “What if I forgive him and the others hate me for it? What if he’s truly evil and it’s all just a game. I’m just a pawn. They put me through tests before. What if I fail this one?” The words tumble out in between sobs. “And then there’s the other side of this. What Bunny did to me was wrong and the risk he put the whole world in is unspeakable. But what he did to the other Ravens was more than I can absolve him for. I can’t make that decision.”
Nevis wraps her arms around me, bringing me in tight to her chest. If someone walked in on us right now I have no idea what the punishment for her or for me would be, but I don’t care. I take the chance and embrace her back.
“I want you to look at something,” she says in my ear. We part and I wipe my nose again on the bedding before following her to the dressing chamber. A long mirror leans against the wall and Nevis positions me so I’m standing directly in front of it. I’m in the dress from the night before. It’s wrinkled as all hell. My ribs hurt from the corset as much as the crying. My face is streaked with black kohl and my hair looks like a bird’s nest after a tornado.
“If you want me to look at a hot mess, I’ve got it. Thanks.”
Her hand clasps mine and she smiles. “You may look a little worse for the wear, but there’s more.”
“I’m not sure I can handle any more, Nevis.”
“In two days you’re slated to either succumb to the Morrigan or take over. What I see in the reflection is the future Queen of both realms. The Queen of Ravens—and not the Goddess of War. If you fight through the obstacles in your way you can shine a light on this world. We need you. My people need you. Your Guardians need you.” She runs a hand down my hair. “That includes Bunny. And to accomplish what you need to do to make that happen you need his help, too.”
“But what about—”
“You’re the Queen. You make the decisions.” She touches the charm hanging between my breasts. “They are here to follow you. They trust you. And it’s time for you to repair the damage between you and Bunny.”
The idea leaves a sour taste in my mouth. “What if I don’t want to?”
Her lips tug into a frown. “Then I’m afraid you aren’t ready and it may be another millennium before we have the chance to break free from the Morrigan’s reign of terror.”
I’m at least a foot taller than Nevis and wearing an impressive gown. I’m young and have strength and power that I’d never expected in life, but this woman next to me seems so much stronger.
“I’m not sure if I can do it,” I admit.
“You have two days to figure it out.”
8
Damien
“No,” Dylan says. There’s zero wavering in his voice. The problem for him is he’s not the actual leader of the group. We all get a vote and from the set of Clinton’s jaw and the tension tugging at Sam’s eyes I know Dylan is not going to get his way without a fight.
I sigh and start what is sure to be a fight. “Cirice has a good point, these guys are the best. Well, other than us, but it would be better to go in with a small, solid team than with less skilled soldiers.”
“They’re savages,” Dylan argues. “They spent centuries working directly under Camulus. His special team. They raped, pillaged, and burned their way through history.”
“But these six were cast out because of their refusal to fight for Camulus in the modern era,” I say. “The War God sold them into slavery as punishment and they’ve been under lock and key with the Shaman ever since. Maybe they’ve changed?”
“Or maybe they’re worse than before,” Clinton adds. “I, too, am worried about bringing them into the battle on the Otherside, they could easily betray us as well.”
“Not if they’re bound,” Sam says. “We could try to win their contract.”
Dylan narrows his eyes at our brother. “You want to be slave owners? I never thought I’d hear those words from you.”
“I don’t want to own them, but I would like to control them on the battlefield. Once the war is over we can determine their fate.”
I think on it for a moment. The lives we’ve led and how we died and were remolded by the gods to serve the world in another way. How that time of service is now upon us. It’s with that in mind that I say, “Maybe we owe them an opportunity to redeem themselves. We were given a second chance.”
Dylan sighs and paces the length of the library. Being away from Morgan for this long is taking a toll on all of us. The worry. The fear. Our bond is tight. The healing between us bolstered us all in a way we’d never experienced before but even so—we are made to be a team. A unit.
All of us with our mate, and leaving her behind doesn’t feel right.
Finally he stops and runs his hand over his hair, leaving it in small, messy spikes. “Even if we agree to this, we have to actually procure the contract. The Shaman’s fee will certainly be heavy. And costly. We already are tied to him with one debt.”
The monthly fights. Adding to that debt would be a burden none of us want to bear. But even so, this is greater than the four of us.
“We’re talking about the apocalypse, Dylan,” Sam says. “We’ve spent our lives carrying the weight of the damned. One more isn’t going to destroy us.”
If we had to vote right now I suspect at least three of us would agree. We’re desperate and most certainly running out of time. But I’m known for my impulsiveness. My willingness to take a risk. Without hesitation I say, “I’m in. Let’s try to win the contract for the Legion of Immortals.”
As expected, Sam and Clinton nod their approval. Dylan stares at the floor, knowing he’s lost this argument. “Fine,” he says. “But don’t come to me to fix this when it all implodes, got it?”
We share a moment of understanding, because even though we promise we won’t, we all know he’s got our back—for better or worse—because that’s how the Raven Guard operates.
9
Morgan
After a bath to soothe my aching ribs, and a generous plate of eggs, bacon, and biscuits, Nevis helps me dress. My closet is filled with dresses and gowns. It feels weird wearing the Morrigan’s clothing, like a lamb being dressed for slaughter, so I reach for the suit I wore from The Nead.
Nevis shakes her head. “Dress the part. Today, you’re not a warrior. You’re a guest of the Queen.”
“A guest?” I snort. “I may not be in the dungeons, but I wouldn’t call myself free.”
