by Skye Horn
“I can’t…” Amara started to say, trying to get out of Thea’s arms as they neared the stables. Outside was quieter without the sounds of battle, but it made Thea uneasy. If there were no soldiers out here, that meant they’d all gone into the castle, and Kieran was in trouble.
“You can, and you will.” Thea grabbed Amara’s face, turning her to look at her directly, and stopped walking. “This is how you redeem yourself, do you understand? Your mother asked me to protect you. I’m doing that. But I need you to go to her and tell her that we are in trouble. Kieran and I might die tonight, but if the rest of the resistance comes after us, maybe a difference can be made before it’s too late.”
“You expect to die?” Amara asked with wide eyes. Thea could see the tiredness behind her eyes, but for once, she saw the girl there. The child who felt abandoned and unloved. She saw the evil she’d committed, but like Ainé had said, she saw hope too. “Run with me.”
“I won’t leave Kieran behind. This is my fault.” Thea opened the stable doors, releasing Amara, and then paused with a curious tilt of her head at the familiar tingle that crept up her spine.
“Faylon?” she called into the darkness of the stable.
As soon as she said his name a door burst open and the large black unicorn came pounding out against the cries of the three stable boys who stood tending to other horses. Apparently Faylon wasn’t required to follow her orders. She didn’t think he’d ever even left Ivandor, but she was grateful to see him now.
“You’re a fool on a suicide mission. Once Morrigan returns she will kill us all. We need to run.” Amara’s voice was almost begging now, but her eyes stared at Faylon with awe.
“I’m prepared die, but I have to do everything I can to stop Morrigan. If I don’t, then what kind of queen am I?”
“An alive one…” Amara mumbled, and Faylon gave a snort.
“Take her to Iris,” Thea told the stallion, petting his mane gently and kissing his warm nose. She felt the tears swelling in her eyes, knowing she would likely never see her familiar again, and saw a similar glint to his own. “And this time, actually go. They’ll know she isn’t lying when they see you.”
Faylon rested his forehead against Thea’s and no one spoke. Even the stable boys stood staring with their mouths agape as Thea closed her eyes.
I wish we had more time together, but I am forever grateful for your friendship and loyalty, Thea thought, knowing he would hear. A single tear shed from Faylon’s eyes.
You are brave. You are strong. You are our queen.
Thea pulled her head back to look into Faylon’s eyes once more, wiped her eyes, and stood straight.
“Millie, go with them,” Elizabeth said suddenly. “Death is coming to Ivandor, and I promised your mother I would keep you safe.” She wrapped her arms around her granddaughter.
“No—”
“Yes. Ethan, get her a horse.” She waved at one of the stable boys, who immediately went to fetch a horse for Millie. Thea nodded her understanding and helped Amara onto Faylon.
“Ride quickly and silently—you are this land’s last hope.”
“I’m sorry for my part in this,” Amara said, twisting her fingers into Faylon’s mane. “And I’m sorry for your friend.”
Thea didn’t reply. She’d already told Amara she forgave her for Marcus, but that didn’t mean she was ready to talk about it. Especially since there were much more important things to deal with right now. She gave Faylon a small pat and he lunged out of the stable, nearly leaving Amara behind. She gripped him tightly just before they disappeared into the dusk.
“Goodbye, sister,” Thea whispered, turning her attention back to Millie, who had just mounted another horse. “Go to my friends. They’ll keep you safe.”
Millie nodded, looking fearful.
“I need to go.” Thea looked back toward the castle. “Elizabeth—”
“I’ll gather as many as I can. We will stand by you.”
Thea nodded her thanks and, with one last look at Millie, she left the stable and ran toward the castle. As she neared the door to the kitchens, the fighting grew louder and she knew the guards had made it to the kitchens. She took a deep breath, trying to recover her strength, and then entered the fray, ready to die for those she loved.
Chapter 22
The sheer number of guards became overwhelming as Kieran fought off one soldier after another. He lifted the sword he’d taken from a centaur guarding the double doors and blocked the attack of a bloodied ogre advancing on him. The clash of metal on metal echoed through the dining hall like an off-key symphony, but Kieran did not falter. Sweat glistened on his brow and soaked his shirt as he spun to face each incoming enemy. Ogres, centaurs, Faeries, and dark magic backed him as far away from King Malachi as they could. He could see the king, chanting over the golden goblet on the far side of the room, with Morrigan perched upon his shoulder, but no matter how hard he tried, he could not get any closer. Kieran thought about trying to knock the goblet out of his hands, as if that might solve all their problems, but dark magic protected the king. It vibrated around him like an impenetrable wall. That meant that a distanced attack just wouldn’t do the trick. He or Thea needed to get closer.
Kieran groaned and gave up on flying in the small space, knowing he had more of a physical advantage on his feet. After all, he’d trained for this nearly his entire life.
A sharp pain across his left bicep and sudden stinging warmth pulled his attention away from the bloodied ogre. He cursed seeing the injury his fellow Faerie had left on him and ducked to dodge a blow from the ogre behind him. He tossed his injured arm back, palm up, and a burst of wind and magic sent the ogre flying into the splintered dining-room table. He hit it with a groan, and Kieran returned his attention to the Faerie who’d injured him just in time to raise his sword and block another swing. His hair stuck uncomfortably to his face and neck, and his muscles ached with each swing of the sword, but there was no turning back now. Kieran knew he would die here tonight; he only hoped that he could take down enough of the king’s guards to make a difference for when the others arrived.
“Kieran!” he heard her beautiful voice call above the chaos. Despite the room’s size, Thea remained out of his reach. She stood just outside the kitchen doors. She no longer cradled Amara at her side, which he hoped meant she had gotten the younger girl to safety. Her hair had fallen around her shoulders and her eyes were wild but exhausted. Her chest rose and fell in quick movements while she scanned the room for him. She was his warrior princess.
“You have to stop him,” Kieran cried out to her, hoping his voice would carry, as his sword sliced cleanly through the stomach of his Faerie foe. He felt the familiar wrongness of striking down a Fae kin, but then reminded himself that this was war. “He’s going to bring her back!”
Kieran tried to fight his way past the line of soldiers that stood between him and Thea, but she seemed so far away. Her position by the kitchens put her closer to the king and Morrigan, though, which Thea seemed to realize as she glanced in their direction. Her eyes conveyed the same message that he felt deeply in his own heart: they both expected to die tonight. He mouthed the words she needed to hear and then returned his sword to the fight, taking down as many enemies as he could to save her.
Exhaustive magic coupled with physical fighting was wearing on him as the bodies dropped. He had many injuries, though thankfully none of them had stopped him from continuing on, but he couldn’t fight forever. As his sword grew heavier and the clang of metal buzzed through his ears, a new group joined the fray, brandishing weapons of different varieties.
Humans.
Some had daggers or swords, but most carried kitchen knives or staffs. They fought well against the Faeries, as if they’d been training for this moment for years, and Kieran thought that perhaps they had been. Perhaps all they had been waiting for was someone to come and spark the fuse that would light the fire. He saw Thea, his beautiful warrior princess, strike down many creatur
es in her path, but she never stood alone. Beside her were humans, fighting to get her exactly where she needed to be. This made Kieran’s heart race with hope. A dangerous hope that perhaps there was a way out of this.
It didn’t take long before the humans joined him as well, taking off some of the pressure. One confronted him about his wounds, telling him he needed to treat his arm, but he shook his head in refusal, looking toward his princess, his queen. The human seemed to understand and remained at his side, a right-hand soldier as they made their way across the dining hall.
“Can you keep them from shooting me down?” Kieran asked.
“I will do my best,” he replied. Kieran handed him his sword. “Won’t you need this?”
“This is a war of ancient magic,” Kieran said as his only explanation before soaring into the air. The room had limited space to fly, but he did not need to get far. He felt a sharp pang along his foot where something had caught him, but he flapped his wings harder to get to Thea. The clang of swords below told him that his new companions were doing as promised. It did not take more than a moment for him to land at Thea’s side.
“You have to stop this,” she was saying. Her hands trembled at her side, and Kieran knew the magic she wielded was tearing her apart at the seams. Morrigan soared in and out, trying to hook her claws into Thea, but Kieran’s hands flew up, creating a barrier between their bodies and the raven. Thea glanced at him with relieved surprise, realizing he’d arrived.
“This will save us,” King Malachi said, adding another ingredient to his goblet. The smile on his face told Kieran they were in deep trouble. “You’ll see. She’s going to bring peace and balance to our world.”
“Peace and balance come from coexistence and equality, not from subordination and classism!”
Kieran didn’t know how Thea knew this, but something in the way she spoke made him believe she knew exactly the kind of evil threatening Faerie.
“Growing up with humans made you soft, girl.”
Kieran stood beside Thea as her right-hand soldier, her protector; and took her hand.
“Growing up with humans is what will make her a queen,” he said. The king’s men outnumbered them, even with the help of the humans, but if he was going to die, he’d do it by her side, defending her. He stretched his wings out wide behind him and extended his other arm out, palm up.
“You think you’re stronger than me?” King Malachi smirked, shadows growing around him. His pride was the flaw that Kieran was counting on, as Malachi took his eyes away from the goblet. Kieran focused, sending a blast of energy toward the king. Thea squeezed his hand tightly as the attack was easily blocked.
“Maybe not alone,” Kieran said.
Thea raised her free hand then, copying his movements with a ragged breath. Kieran saw the strain behind her gaze as she summoned the strength to perform the magic.
The king laughed, but his defense faltered, and their combined attack made him stumble back a step. Morrigan made an angry sound as she landed beside the goblet, dipping her beak into it.
Kieran and Thea moved forward in unison, never lowering their hands as a shield of air guarded them from the shadows. Kieran noticed Thea’s eyes close as he guided her, and soon the ground trembled, making the king stumble and spilling part of the goblet’s scarlet liquid.
“Focus,” Kieran told Thea between breaths. He flapped his wings, sending a stronger gust of wind toward Morrigan, who had landed to inspect the liquid spill. She rolled backwards, her wings twisting at odd angles as she did.
“I’m trying,” Thea groaned. Her hand trembled in his, but as he glanced at her something knocked him square in the chest. He looked up just in time to see an ogre break through the line of humans. Bodies lay limp or cowering on the floor as he swung what looked like a giant wooden bat. Kieran had to release Thea’s hand to avoid falling backwards. The ogre had struck him with the bat and Kieran’s chest ached from the impact.
Thea’s eyes darted to his, but they were separated once more. The ogre swung again, and Kieran tried to get himself airborne in time to avoid the second impact. He wished desperately for his sword as the space closed in around him and the bat collided with his right wing, giving a deafening crack.
Thea screamed, but searing white pain blinded him. He fell to the ground, his shattered wing crumpling beside him. His body trembled in agony as he tried to push himself up, but the ugly creature roared behind him. Another sickening crack split the air, and his vision blurred into scarlet blood. He couldn’t stop the guttural scream that escaped his lips as he pressed his slick palms into the ground in front of him for support. Both wings stuck out at odd angles, and a pulsing sound in his ears told him his heart was racing, but he had no control over his limbs anymore. He heard Thea screaming for him, but shadows clouded his vision as wispy dark tentacles tightened around his arms and legs. When they twisted icily around his neck he clawed at them, trying to break free, and felt them slip between his fingers—it was like trying to clutch air. His vision blurred from lack of oxygen as he thrashed painfully on the floor. His wings felt limp on his back and his eyes bulged; he tasted death on his tongue, metallic and sweet.
“No!” Thea’s voice was distinct in the chaos. He clung to her delicate tone, remembering how it had sounded when she’d whispered his name. His nails dug into the wood flooring, and he coughed against the shadows, trying desperately to get the breath of air his lungs craved. The burning in his chest was nearly unbearable, though, and he knew he would not last much longer.
A final whispered wish to see Thea one last time through the darkness was all Kieran thought as the wind picked up around him. It stung his face and eyes almost as much as the darkness did, and it nearly blew him sideways as it hit him. It was as if a tornado had gusted through the dining hall, and by the screams surrounding him, he realized he was not the only one feeling it. The suffocating shadows around him loosened, and Kieran’s body reacted instinctively as he drew in deep breaths to fill his burning lungs. His eyes squinted into the wind as the shadows disappeared, and he saw the ogre that had attacked him thrown clear across the room. The humans were not faring well against the unnatural tornado either. Many clung to each other for help, while others fled back toward the kitchens, trying not to get knocked off their feet in the process. As the wind cleared away those left standing, the casualties spread out in front of them in mangled heaps of lifeless gazes. Most were human.
Kieran placed his palms on the ground and pushed himself behind the half of the dining room table that remained. A human with a swollen, bloody lip and half-closed eyes stared at him as if he was unsure whether he was friend or foe.
“What’s happening?” Kieran asked, trying to sound calm. The pain on his back was nearly debilitating, and he knew his body was shaking beyond his control. “Who’s doing this?”
“The princess,” the human mumbled in return, trying to peek over the table. He looked only a few years older than Mica and scared for his life. Kieran tried to look over the table to see Thea, but the wind had only picked up harder and pushed the table, as well as Kieran and the human, a few feet farther back.
“That’s impossible,” Kieran said more to himself. He looked back at the young man and frowned, seeing that his hands were not the only ones shaking. “I need you to take a deep breath. You’re going to be okay,” he said, immediately recognizing the panic in the boy’s eyes.
“My brother… I saw him…”
The body of a centaur flew as light as a rag-doll past them, screaming, and Kieran wondered what type of magic Thea had stumbled onto. For a moment, he feared she had tapped into dark magic once more but it did not seem likely since it wasn’t darkness tossing things through the air. Furniture and people were flying around him. It was no longer just the humans fleeing the room, but also the soldiers.
“Come back, you filthy traitors!” Kieran heard King Malachi scream. His voice was hoarse from the wind.
“When I say run, you run. Do you understa
nd?”
“Your wings, though—”
“I have to get to the princess, but you’re going to run to the kitchens. It’s the closest exit.”
The boy nodded, unable to say anything else, and Kieran pulled himself into a squatting position. Pain engulfed every inch of his body with every move he made, but he did not wince. He thought of Thea, knowing he needed to protect her, and then he counted down for the boy before tossing the table aside with every ounce of energy he had left.
Kieran didn’t look back to see if the boy had followed his instructions. Instead, he headed straight for the eye of the tornado that had engulfed the room, limping slightly and dragging his wings behind him one agonizing step after another. An abandoned sword became his weapon as he found the source of the commotion. She was high above the place where the king now stood looking panicked over the fallen goblet. Mysterious liquid bubbled across the floorboards and Morrigan was nowhere to be seen, but Kieran’s eyes looked amazed toward the ceiling.
There, flying as if she’d been born to do it, was Thea, and she had magnificent burnt umber wings.
Chapter 23
The blinding pain of having enormous wings sprout from her back was enough to make Thea’s stomach turn into knots, but she knew there was no time for puking up the inconsiderable amount of food left in it now. As soon as the pain stopped, Thea took the surprise of the king as a chance to teach herself how to fly. It felt as natural as riding Faylon, if she was being honest, but she wondered if most of that was adrenaline. Seeing Kieran’s broken form suffocating beneath the waves of darkness sent Thea over the edge. Something broke within her that she didn’t know if she would ever get back, or would ever want back. She could taste blood on her lips and feel the swelling in her limbs where the fight had worn her down, but she ignored the pain, stretching her arms out around her. She’d seen Kieran do this a million times, and yet, the actual act of doing it herself was exhausting.
