Queen to Ashes (Black Dawn Series Book 2)

by Mallory McCartney

  “You’re asking me to just believe you and give over everything I have built. That I have protected.”

  Her heart sank at his tone, but his gaze was fixated on her necklace. A thousand emotions flashed in his eyes, all of them unreadable to her. A shudder jarred through the entire ship, and Marquis ran a hand through his emerald hair, strands shooting every which way as he pressed his eyes together. Another shudder and he cursed fluently.

  In two strides, he crossed the space between them, squatting so that they were face-to-face. “I need time.”

  “Kiero is burning. The fate of our world is suspended between us.”

  “And as I said, I need time. You will enter the Isles, as my prisoner. All of you will.”

  Emory’s thread of hope broke, as she stared at Marquis. Pressing his lips into a thin line, he whispered, “Our lands are nothing alike. It is not just my decision, Princess, to choose to die for your cause.”

  Snapping his fingers, warmth spun around her, the wind evaporating and lifting away all the moisture. His body arched over hers when he sliced through the binds around her wrists. Leaning back, his mouth paused by her ear, “I would not tell anyone what you said to me here. Watch and learn, Princess, what it means to rule.”

  Groaning, she shakily stood, and he flashed her a dark smirk, grabbing her hand. Tensing, she clenched her jaw, waiting for the familiar rise of ability, rushing to devour.

  “Forgotten, have you?” Marquis asked.

  “What, that you’re not only annoying but immune to my talents?”

  “For a prisoner, you’re pretty snarky, you know that?”

  She stretched, joints popping. “I highly doubt you’re going to throw us in the dungeons to rot.”

  A flash of teeth. “First lesson—I wouldn’t assume anything.” Opening the door, the chatter hit them like a wall as the crew bustled around the ship.

  Squaring her shoulders, Emory whispered to his back, “We both loved him. I won’t stop trying to make things right.”

  Marquis didn’t turn, but she could hear him whisper back, “I hope so.”

  Following, she took each step one at a time, feeling the rush of crisp air whipping around her and the crashing of waves. The light was blinding, and she blinked, her eyes adjusting.

  All around her, men and women jumped into action, knotting ropes, shouting orders, moving in a chaotic harmony. The morning light was jarring, noting just how much time they spent in oblivion. Sighing, she followed Marquis, trying not to stare at the piercings, at the swirling tattoos, at the expressions of clothing: Bright jackets, bright pants, shirts, boots. Intricately braided hair bobbed by her, smiling as she took in the diversity.

  Keeping an eye on his emerald hair, they walked toward the bow of the ship, the rolling black waters endlessly surrounding them. Stopping, she gripped the rails. “Marquis?”

  “You know how we survived Adair’s reign?”

  She tensed, grinding her teeth together. “By ignoring the rest of the world?”

  He chuckled. “No. By having something he wanted. Something he needed.”

  Looking at the rolling inky waves, she whispered, “And what will you do now when you have the choice to help people this time?”

  “I will always do what’s best for my people; that’s my promise as king. But, from what you’ve told me, you have something that our enemies want. And need.” Her stomach dropped, the pit in her heart growing deeper. She stared at the fracturing light, not wanting to accept what had happened. Not ready to confront it. The exchange of powers, what she now possessed. That the thing she feared most was becoming a part of her.

  “I told you what happened, hoping it would sway your mind. To help us. Not to use us.”

  Arching an eyebrow, his smile held the promise of danger, of excitement, and above all else, trouble. “You’re not the one who gets to decide that, Princess. Trust me, it’s nothing personal.”

  The ship lurched as he leaned over, grabbing her hand too hard. There was an explosion of energy as she watched in shock as the shield flew up like a peerless glass dome over the ship. There was a grinding noise, so loud it reverberated through her entire body, Emory watching in awe as the masts lowered, the sails jumping to life on their own accord, wrapping themselves around the oak. A woman with golden hair locked eyes with her and waved as she stalked around the ship, black jacket flaring around her.

  “My second, Diedre, has some specific talents, as you can see, when it comes to entering the Isles.”

  Her words lodged in her throat, as the entire ship jumped forward, diving beneath the waters, and the world was transformed. They cut swiftly, diving at a speed that made her heart drop into her stomach, strands of filtered daylight streaming down, igniting the sea. Schools of fish darted away from them like comets streaking through a night sky, their scales brilliant reds, golds, and oranges.

  Deeper they plunged, maneuvering around reefs, their ivory shimmering like a beacon in the night. To her left, she caught movement, and her mouth hung open as she saw a trident, a flash of scales. Their haunting looks, staring as they passed, bore into her.

  Marquis’s breath was hot on her neck, as he leaned in too close. “Obviously not your first mer-people encounter?”

  Shaking her head, Emory watched as they passed underneath what looked to be a form of jellyfish, their bodies a flush pink. A deep whine echoed out in the water then as a huge body swam into view, its blue skin shimmering like a gem. Its intelligent eyes locked onto them, gnarled fangs hooking over its lip. Propelling its huge fins, it dipped and cooed, the song echoing in the lonely expanse of ocean.

  The ship dipped below, coming up to a carved archway. Like a magnet being pulled, they darted underneath, and she cringed against the assault of magic. Breathing heavily, her eyes widened as she looked down. The water had transformed before Emory, magic being the only explanation as she took in constellations being mapped out: They glided on the map of the night sky. The stars glinted like diamonds, the moon reflecting up at her. She tried to pull away from Marquis, but up the ship soared through the waters, the dark and mysterious creatures being left behind. Leaving the dimension of stars and moonlight as they broke through the waters, sunlight basked them again. Her knees shook from the speed, and she tried to find her center.

  “Emory Fae, welcome to the Shattered Isles.”

  Emory gaped, taking in her mother’s birthplace.

  Breathing deeply, the salty air clung to her, droplets of water raining down on them as the shield lowered, but she couldn’t look away. Two massive land masses curved in toward one another, one magnificent cliff face to another. A fleet of at least fifty ships were docked at port, but it was the lush deep green landscape that held her attention. The baying of gulls in the distance. The flashes of silver rock face, the wildness that made her blood pound. Her skin pricked in anticipation as her soul lifted its head in recognition. This forgotten part of her, her heritage, her blood, all began here. Her mother began here.

  The tears burned her eyes, and she swallowed. Drinking it in, looking back to the King from across the Sea, only to find sorrow flooding his green eyes as he said, “Second, never trust a pirate. Sorry, Princess.”

  Emory saw him lunge. Heart pounding, she tried to get out of Marquis’s range, but the hilt of the sword slammed into her temple, blood filling her mouth. They were now prisoners and hostages; the last image of their freedom burned in her.

  ***

  “Em. Em.” Like always, Brokk’s voice pulled her back. Fluttering her eyes open, the world tilted as she groaned. Focusing, Brokk came into view across from her, shackles around his wrists and ankles. Looking up, the cell was small, a tiny crack between the bricks allowing her to lean over, spotting flickers of the ocean and the deadly drop below.

  Swearing, Emory leaned back, her own binds cutting into her wrists. “He really did put us in a dungeon.”

  Brokk shrugged, obviously relaxing. “I’m not surprised. Marquis has always had a flair for the
dramatics.” The cold air clung around them, the hint of winter on the air.

  She groaned. Her head throbbed as she asked, “Kiana and Riona?”

  He frowned. “He has them.” Her heart dropped, and she closed her eyes, exhaustion clinging to her. She was so tired. “Em. One step at a time, okay? We will win him over.”

  “How?” she asked.

  “By playing by his rules. And earning their trust. Their respect. The Shattered Isles is your heritage. They are your roots, your people, just as much as his. We can do this.”

  Brokk’s eyes turned molten again, and her breath caught in her throat. She paused, the energy in the air changing. His full lips pulled up in a timid smile, unsure but warm. His muscles flexed as he pulled against the iron, the quiver of nervousness making his words shake.

  “You know, all my life, I always thought there would be moments. Moments where the timing would be perfect, that I could see the signs. But, to be honest, I’m tired of almost losing you. Of dancing with death too closely.” His breath was ragged. “But you need to answer one question.”

  Her pulse raced, heat climbing up her neck. How could she have been so blind? So reckless? So afraid? Emory shivered, her body arching, yearning to be closer to him. His voice was hoarse.

  “Who does your heart want?”

  The clarity she felt radiated through her entire being when a tiny frown formed on Brokk’s lips as he waited. Looking into his golden eyes, they seemed to glow in the dismal setting of the cell, but her voice rang true, her heart bursting with every word.

  “I want you, Brokk Foster. Now until the ends of Kiero.”

  A blush stained his cheeks; Brokk looked to the chains murmuring, “Damn these cuffs.”

  In one motion, Brokk lurched forward, veins growing visible in his neck as he pulled against the iron. The chain links, attached to the brick behind him, started to wobble. Then the chain let go, taking chunks of the brick with it, freeing Brokk enough so that he emerged before her on his knees, tentative.

  With sea salt on her lips, she lowered them, and Brokk was there, waiting. Her lips parted as he exhaled, and he moaned out of pleasure. Their lips met, metal biting into her wrists as she pressed forward, her hands wanting to roam, to search the valleys and crevices of his body. His tongue parted her lips, a soft growl escaping from him.

  They slowly explored one another, and she was fractured and put back together.

  Parting, he hoarsely murmured, “I was hoping you would say that.”

  Flushing, her heart drummed against her ribcage, warmth spilling through her entire core. Emory wanted more. To explore, to devour. Brokk beamed, absolutely radiating, and she knew: It had always been him waiting for her to catch up and see him. He was her sun, and she gravitated toward him, needing him. He had always been there, and now...

  Emory was not ready to stop kissing Brokk when the door creaked open. Two men looked at them, both clad in black. Their faces gave nothing away when they looked to Brokk, who was mostly free from his restraints. Walking to him, they wrenched him up, his protests drowned out against her screams. Brokk shot her a reassuring glance before the door shut behind them, leaving her. Screaming, Emory dove into her ability, finding nothing. The chains.

  “BROKK!”

  There was no inclination of what was happening. Of what would happen. The heat drained from her, replaced by an iron cold. She fought, blood running along her wrists, screaming at the door. In a matter of seconds, she had lost him. Time slipped away, as her voice broke and became hoarse, pain lacing through her body. She whispered his name repeatedly, her pleas turning into promises. Her promises turning into rage. Her rage turning into resilience.

  As the sun slipped low, casting her into darkness, Emory sat in the cell, waiting. He wanted to play the game; she would play.

  And so, she waited, readying herself for Marquis Maher.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Nyx

  The steel caught its opponents, sparks igniting between them. In that moment, Nyx hated Memphis Carter more than words could express. The sun baked into her skin, stinging as she rolled, the sword slicing the air way too close to her throat. Nyx realized Memphis had known the Dust Clans terms and yet had insisted on them addressing the matter. And where had that landed them? Memphis locked in a secret cell, beaten and broken, and her in the middle of this fighting ring.

  The jeers of the onlookers drowned her, as Nyx caught snippets of the insults that were being yelled at her. Bruises peppered her skin, and her muscles screamed as she kicked her leg out, her opponent grunting from the contact. Standing, allowing herself one second to flick her gaze toward the stands, she found Zander leaning casually over the rails, his gaze fixated on her.

  He had the nerve to wink down at her before she had to duck and slash at her attacker’s belly, swearing with the effort. Oh, she was going to make him pay for this. Sweat stung her eyes as she blinked rapidly. The harsh sun made her fine skin blister and peel from the hours spent down here already. They had arrived three days ago to a world filled with billowing tents and intricate buildings, and she hadn’t seen Memphis since. She rarely saw the Dust Clan leader for that matter; in between fights, she was chained in an iron cage to be leered and jabbed at like an animal.

  Their swords caught again, and she rammed her knee in the man’s groin, making him double over in pain. He wanted a show; he would get one. Flicking her braid over her shoulder and flashing the Dust Clan leader a most brilliant smile, her sword point found its mark, fast and true. The man crumpled to the ground. This was the tenth today she had killed.

  Curses and insults were flung at her, but jutting her chin out, she watched the clan leader like a hawk, waiting for him to send the next raider in. If he wanted a display of strength and resilience, he would get one. Nyx would not roll over and wait to die. It would be on her terms, with her sword swinging until her last breath. Always.

  Zander started to clap, lazy and slow, and the crowd quieted, watching their leader. His muscles flexed in the golden light, his inky blue tattoos covering almost every inch of skin, the intricate and beautiful line work curling around his limbs and neck. His dark eyes shone with amusement, and they assessed her as they always did. Day after day. Fight after fight. Nyx knew he was toying with her, just waiting until the second he released Memphis to take him up on his challenge. Allowing his broken leg to fester with infection and his defiance to wane.

  Zander wanted her to know that each second of each passing day, their chances of living were disappearing. Like he wanted her spirit to. In response, she twirled her bloodied sword and waggled her eyebrows, daring him to make his move. She wasn’t afraid of dying. She was afraid of him making her feel—or to even think—she was weak or what she was fighting for wasn’t worth it: It was.

  The Dust Clan leader spat on the ground and gazed at the clan around him. “Bring in the laghairts.”

  This time, his sharpened gaze held her for a second longer, and she saw it in his eyes. Whatever was coming was bad.

  Dusty iron portcullises groaned open as she brandished her blade in front of her, squinting in the shadows of the mouth’s wall. Laughter and cheers filled the pit as her gaze widened. Three monstrous creatures stalked in, their scales a deep golden brown, shimmering like gold in the sun. Their huge bulking muscles made the colors blaze in brilliance with every movement. Intelligent black eyes met hers, their razor-sharp teeth salivating as their huge nostrils flared.

  By fire and flame, they were smelling her. Inky black talons shifted through the sands, and for a moment, the creatures stopped, licking their maws and flicking their huge, powerful, spiked tails.

  Then, all chaos broke loose.

  They charged her, roaring so loud her eardrums swelled from the onslaught and pain coursed through her body. She did the only thing she could think of in that moment. She ran.

  Pumping her arms hard, the earth shook from the force behind her. She heard the crowd yelling insults, and she could feel Zander
’s gaze burning into her back. He was pushing her, putting her into a corner so she would have only one option to truly make a display.

  Urging her legs to move faster, she ran the perimeter of the forsaken pit. Zander was smart, she would hand him that. This had been a test to try and break her but to also learn what her ability was made of, what he had to be wary of. Her heart rammed against her chest as she suddenly changed directions, so that she was now running at the savage beasts.

  The clan seemed to still around her, and she could feel the pit hold its collective breath. She was maybe fifty yards away from the charging beasts; their snarling and hungry looks were as if they thought their prey had made their fight easy. That she had submitted.

  Smiling wickedly, she threw her sword down and skittered to a stop, throwing up her hands and allowing her ability to shoot through her, dipping into everything she had. It was like every single one of her bones cracked at the same moment, every nerve singing, every sense heightened.

  Nyx was infinite as she projected one thought, Freeze. And that’s exactly what all three creatures did.

  One moment, they were charging, the next frozen in time, their roars of protest shaking the stadium as the raiders’ unease started to spread. Swaggering toward them, she took a minute to glare up at Zander, who had gone red in his golden face with anger. Good. She wanted him to understand just who he was dealing with. That’s when she brought her fierce gaze back to the raging beasts, suspended in her firm holds, and pressed harder.

  Her pulse roared, the world tilting, but she held on. Pristine black droplets of the creatures’ blood started to ooze from their skin and glisten around them like crystals. Her ability dipped and spun, and as the creatures’ eyes widened: She drained them of all life until they crashed around her, and she released them of her hold. The reptilian bodies collided with the sandy pit, making dust clouds erupt. Boldly looking to Zander, her smirk was as sharp as swords. It was his move now. Cries of protest rippled amongst the clans as he raised a dark eyebrow and dropped his façade all in one motion.