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DESDEMONA SLOWLY OPENED her eyes, groaning at the feeling of grogginess that left her head feeling heavy. The sun streaming through her open drapes stung her eyes, causing her to snap them shut once more. Wrinkling her brow, she tried to remember if she’d had too much wine the night before. Why else would her head be pounding, or her stomach roil with such ferocity?
Yet, when she tried to remember the night before, she drew a blank. The last thing she recalled was spending her morning and afternoon flying over Mollac to look in on each of the villages. After her conversation with Elwin, she remembered nothing.
Odd.
Perhaps she’d tired herself out, doing too much in a short time span. And today, there was even more for her to accomplish.
“Your Majesty.”
The soft voice coming from her bedside startled her into a sitting position. Her eyes flew open, and she glanced around, disoriented. Her gaze fell on the slight figure seated at her bedside, dressed in pristine white robes trimmed in silver lace, the hood lowered to reveal her shaved head. Her blinded eyes seemed to stare straight at Desdemona.
“Gods, Zara!” she snapped, pressing a hand to her pounding forehead. “You nearly frightened me to death.”
“My apologies,” she replied, rising and approaching the bed. “Many new developments have come to me in my dreams, and I thought it best to deliver them immediately.”
Running a hand through her disheveled hair, she sighed. “Very well. At least allow me to ring for breakfast. I’m famished. I feel as if I haven’t eaten in ages.”
“It’s been an entire day since you’ve eaten, Your Majesty,” Zara replied. “That is why I took the liberty of bringing breakfast for you.”
Peering over at the table where she held her council meetings, Desdemona found several covered plates waiting for her.
“An entire day?” she murmured, rising from the bed and reaching for her robe. “How long have I been asleep?”
“Elwen brought you back from Snowbank, unconscious,” Zara replied, following her to the table. “She said you had exhausted yourself and simply needed a rest. It is nearly noon now ... you have slept almost twenty-four hours.”
Desdemona felt grateful she had not yet begun eating, or she might have choked. “Gods above, Zara. You mustn’t let me tire myself so thoroughly.”
With a chuckle, Zara reached out to snag a piece of toast from Desdemona’s plate. As always, Desdemona wondered how she did such things when she was so obviously blind.
“I shall endeavor, Your Majesty,” she quipped. “Though, you do not make things easy on those of us who are tasked with caring for you.”
“Duly noted,” she grumbled, reaching for a knife to butter her toast. “Now, what is this news you must warn me about?”
“Your mother is making her way back to Mollac,” Zara declared between bites of toast. “She is in Fallada, along with the Witches, Sorcerers, and Dark Fae she took with her to the Earth realm.”
With a nod, Desdemona chewed in silence for a while. This came as no surprise. In fact, she had been expecting it. Still, she didn’t feel fully prepared. While her army had grown, and training continued almost around the clock, she still did not have a force quite large enough to match her mother’s.
“How long?” she asked, using a spoon to crack one of the boiled eggs on her plate.
“Three days,” Zara replied. “Do not worry about the size of your fighting force. Reinforcements are on the way.”
She perked up at this. “More of the Warrior Fae?”
“Something better,” Zara declared. “Queen Adrah has sent the alpha of the Awcan wolf pack, along with the Brothers Grimm. They have gathered a force of Werewolves to join the fight. On their way to Mollac, they will stop in Damu to entreat King Eldalwen to add wind warriors and Centaurs to that force.”
Desdemona paused with a cup of tea raised halfway to her lips, and smiled. “That is wonderful news. Combined with the Fox Shifters and Warrior Fae we’ve gathered here, we’ll make quite a formidable defense.”
Taking a sip of tea, she realized something and frowned.
“What of Jocylene? Is my sister not coming?”
Zara had assured her that Jocylene had recovered from her Werewolf bite, and would join them in Mollac for the impending battle. The thought of having to do this without her sister, whom she’d come to love, left her feeling uneasy.
“Your sister wishes to be here with you, as well as her mate,” Zara said with a sad smile. “But, it is not possible. Kalodan will mobilize against Inador with half your mother’s force, and the Phoenix he created with blood magic. She, General Rothatin, Princess Phaedra, and Arrian Riverleaf of Inador are leading a Dwarf army to join the Elves in defending it.”
“I understand,” Desdemona declared, even though she still wished things could be different. “With so much happening, we are all stretched so thin. Mates, siblings, lovers ... all separated by duty and war.”
Reaching across the space between them, Zara clutched her hand. “This will end, sooner than you think. And then, you can all be a family again.”
It lay on the tip of her tongue to say they’d never really been a family to begin with. Eranna had seen to that by killing her father and sending Jocylene away. She’d poisoned Desdemona against her sister, sequestered her away from the world and kept her from learning the truth of her powers or her destiny.
However, that was the past. Desdemona was determined not to let it have any bearing on her future.
“If you don’t mind, I need you to send for Mindirra and Eli,” she murmured, going back to her breakfast. “Tell them I must speak with them both, right away.”
Standing from her chair, Zara curtsied and smiled. “Of course, Your Majesty. Right away.”
Retreating on silent feet, Zara left her alone, closing the door to her bedroom with a soft ‘click’. Desdemona attacked her breakfast with relish, feeling better than she had in quite some time. The long rest had done her a lot of good, and she felt ready to take on whatever was thrown at her. In a few short days, it was going to bring a war to her castle gates. She would be ready.
Moments later, Mindirra entered the room with Eli hot on her heels. Both watched her expectantly, giving her quick bows and awaiting her orders.
Wiping her hands on a napkin, she stood and faced them. “In three days’ time, my mother will bring her army to our gates.”
Neither seemed surprised by this, and remained silent while she continued.
“Reinforcements will come from Goldun and Damu,” she said. “We do not know when, so we need to be prepared to hold the castle until they do.”
Mindirra nodded. “We will be, Your Majesty. Our forces train day and night with the Warrior Fae, and we’ve been crafting siege weapons to defend the keep.”
Desdemona nodded her approval. “Good. I need you, and the royal bodyguard, to travel to each of the villages of Mollac. Tell our forces there to gather the people and bring them here.”
Mindirra frowned. “All of them?”
She nodded. “Yes. We have plenty of room to house them until the battle has ended. I will not have my mother and her minions riding through the villages on their way here, pillaging and murdering. I want my people safe. Bring them all here, and have all those guarding the villages prepared for battle. I want everyone who can fight here and prepared to defend the castle.”
Mindirra bowed again. “It will be done, right away.”
She swiftly left the room, while Eli lingered behind.
“What would you have me do?” he asked.
Approaching him, she reached out to grasp his shoulders. “I thought you should know that Jocylene will not be among the reinforcements coming to our aid.”
He frowned, his yellow-gold eyes growing turbulent. “Why not? Is something wrong?”
“No,” she reassured him. “She is fine. It’s only that, at the same time my mother strikes here, Kalodan will attack Inador, using the blood magic Phoenix as a weapon against them. Adrah has sent her, along with General Rothatin, to gather the Dwarf army and go to the aid of the Elves.”
Eli scowled, but nodded his head in understanding. “It makes sense. The Dwarves would follow Jocylene anywhere. It was a wise move, sending her there.”
Raising her eyebrows, Desdemona leaned closer, ensuring he looked her in the eye. “If you wish to go to her, I will not object. I know how much my sister means to you, and if fighting at her side is what you need to do, then you have my full support.”
He chuckled, shaking his head. “Thank you for the offer, but I would rather remain here. Yes, I’d prefer to have Jocylene at my side, but if I arrive in Inador, she’ll be angry with me for abandoning you and my duty.”
Desdemona giggled. “That does sound a lot like Jocylene.”
“Trust me,” he replied. “It is for the best if I remain here. Jocylene would want me to protect you, when she cannot be here to do so.”
A smile crossed her face as warmth spread in her chest at his declaration. “I am grateful. I know that I have never done anything to earn her love, but—”
“You are her sister,” he interjected. “That is enough. At times, you might not see eye to eye, but nothing can break your bond. She loves you, and because of that, so do I. You are our family, Desdemona.”
Emotion clogged her throat as she threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck and holding on tight. He rested a hand on her back, giving it an affectionate pat.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank you so much.”
Pulling away, she blinked back the tears welling in her eyes and sniffed. Eli gave her a radiant smile, and Desdemona could see why her sister had become so enamored with the Panther Shifter. He was outwardly attractive, but the best things about him ran so much deeper than the surface. Her sister was a fortunate woman.
“Now,” he said, squaring his shoulders. “Do you have orders for me?”
“Yes,” she replied. “If you could oversee preparations to receive our guests from the villages, I would be grateful.”
He inclined his head and began backing away toward the door. “As you wish.”
As Eli disappeared through the door, Desdemona turned to her dressing room and set about selecting an ensemble to wear for the day. There was still so much to do, but the prospect did not seem so daunting now. She had an army, with the promise of reinforcements. She had a place to keep her people safe while she eradicated Mollac of the threat against them. She had a family, who would work alongside her to fight against evil.
She was ready to take her place in the world, and fulfill her part of the prophecy.
Darkness shrouded her, but Queen Eranna no longer needed to hide. As she sauntered through the woods of Fallada, the train of her white gown trailing behind her, she lifted her chin proudly. The silver mask had been left behind in the human world, no longer necessary for disguising her face.
While the ritual had been cut short, leaving several of the kidnapped girls alive, Eranna’s power was still great enough that few in Fallada could match her. Once again, her face and form were the picture of perfection and beauty. Her porcelain skin glowed in the light of the moon, her black hair shining like precious onyx.
At her side, a gleaming silver spear was clutched in one hand, while a sword sat in the belt at her hip. Over her gown, a silver breastplate protected her. A Dark Fae Warrior walked before her, bearing her helmet and shield.
The time had come to go to war.
Eranna had grown tired of the interference of Queen Adrah and General Rothatin—enraged by the constant growth of the forces conspiring against her. For now, her most pressing problem remained Desdemona. Her wayward daughter had gone from rebellion to all-out defiance. She had attempted to bring her to heel several times, as Desdemona had been the only child born of her womb after years of attempting to bring life into the world. At one time, she had loved Desdemona dearly.
All that had changed now. The ungrateful girl had turned on her, aligning herself with the very people who wanted her dead.
It was better not to love at all; this, she had discovered long ago. By ridding herself of the nuisance that was her daughter, Eranna would sever the last tie that her heart had to anyone or anything in the world. Kalodan had his uses, as both a servant and a lover, but she did not love him. It had been her intention for quite some time to cast him aside after he’d ceased to be useful to her.
Attachments had never caused her anything but pain, and she was stronger for having forged her own path, alone.
Within the pocket of her gown, what remained of her enchanted mirror began to pulse and vibrate. Retrieving it with a careful hand, she lifted it to find that Kalodan was summoning her from the other side. The shard was just large enough to fit in her palm—the rest of the glass having been shattered during the attack on Hart Island. She had no choice but to carry the sliver until she could have it reframed into a smaller hand-mirror.
Deciding to answer the call, she stared into the glass, calling up Kalodan’s image. He appeared before her among the swirls and pinpoints of light dancing in the glass. White-blond hair fell into his eyes, which had once been a vibrant green, but had become black as coals—the evidence of the dark magic which had eaten away at his soul.
“Where have you been?” he snapped, his mouth pinched. “I’ve been summoning you for days!”
Her blood ran cold, and she could feel the iciness of rage spreading out from her body, leaving trails of frost in the grass with every step she took.
“Mind your tongue,” she growled. “You dare speak to me as if I am subject to your whims. I summon you, not the other way around.”
Defiance flashed in his gaze, but he simply bowed his head. “Sincerest apologies, my queen. It is just that preparations have been made for the march against Inador. We simply await your arrival.”
“Our plans have changed,” she replied. “I will not be joining you in Inador. Instead, I am gathering the forces my daughter chased out of Mollac. I am going to reclaim my castle.”
Raising the mirror and tilting it, she gave him a view of the army marching behind her in neat rows, the cadence of their footsteps vibrating through the trees with ominous purpose.
Kalodan raised one eyebrow at her. “Are you certain it is wise to divide our forces?”
“If our forces are divided, then so are theirs,” she pointed out. “By compelling them to split their energies between Mollac and Inador, we weaken them.”
“Perhaps,” he relented. “Am I to understand that you are trusting me to lead the charge against Inador?”
Annoyance roiled in her gut as Eranna considered his question. They both knew that he would have marched without her anyway, without hesitation. That he was only asking now in order to placate her made the tips of her fingers turn blue as the coldness of anger caused ice to begin spreading over them. If he stood before her, she might have driven the ice-coated fist into his pretty face.
“I am,” she declared. “But be warned ... if you fail me, there will be hell to pay. I want Inador decimated, and the threat of the Elves wiped out.”
“With the power of our Phoenix behind me, I have no doubt that can be accomplished,” Kalodan replied, arrogant boredom lacing his tone.
“See that it is,” she groused. “We will meet again in Zenun, after our missions are complete.”
Kalodan’s gaze turned smoldering as he gave her an indolent smile. “Please hurry, my love. I have missed you sorely.”
Eranna could not help but return his smile. Kalodan might tempt her patience, but keeping around did have its merits.
“As I have missed you,” she said, before allowing the image to waver and fade away, then letting go of the connection altogether.
Sliding the piece of glass back into her pocket, Eranna continued on, her sights set to the west, where Mollac sprawled in a snowy white landscape.
Have a care, daughter, she thought, a smug smirk curving her lips. Mother’s coming home.
Malachi paused at the foot of the staircase leading up to the front doors of Semran Hall. Around him, the mass of bodies waiting to get inside shifted and moved, brushing past him as they ascended. Word had traveled quickly of Desdemona’s orders—all citizens of Mollac should report to Semran Hall, where they would be protected until the battle had been fought and, hopefully, won.
It had been his intention to join the other warriors in defending the castle, but he hadn’t counted on being summoned here two days before the battle would ensue.
Two days of being beneath the same roof with Desdemona, who did not remember anything about him beyond the fact that he’d been the one her mother had chosen to keep her memories locked away. Two days of mourning her loss and missing her closeness, while she went on, oblivious of all they had shared.
Two days of torture.
Nudged from behind by a female Werewolf trying to ascend the stairs with a baby in her arms, Malachi was forced into action. Placing one foot in front of the other, he slowly trudged up toward the open doors. Within the courtyard, tents had been erected for many of the soldiers to sleep in, making room for Mollac’s citizens within the massive castle. They would have to sleep several to a room, with the others lying on straw pallets in the castle’s ballroom, great hall, and other common areas—but, they would be sheltered from Eranna’s approaching forces. They would be safe.
Finding Eli, Mindirra, and the other royal bodyguards standing at the entrance, directing people here and there, he approached.
“Good morning,” he said, moving to stand beside Eli. “What may I do to help?”
“At the moment, we’ve been tasked with ensuring everyone knows where to go,” Eli replied. “In an hour’s time, an afternoon meal will be served in the great hall. Once that is done, the great hall will become a meeting place for those leading the different units in battle. We’ll be discussing strategy.”
Malachi nodded. “When can we expect the reinforcements from Damu?”
Eli sighed, his expression grim. “At the eleventh hour, most likely. Titus and Selena must travel to Damu first, which lies all the way to the south of Fallada. They would then have to go north and west to reach us, passing through the moors and half of Mollac before reaching Semran Hall.”
“Better late than never, I suppose,” Malachi replied. In his mind, he began mentally tallying their numbers. With the Fox Shifters and Werewolves combined with the Warrior Fae sent from Goldun, it was an adequate enough force to hold the keep, so long as they could keep Eranna’s force from breaching the walls and gates. If they should gain entrance to the castle, the battle would be lost.
Their salvation would be the army from Damu, which could come from the rear and crush Eranna’s force ... but only if they could hold out until then.
“Are the siege weapons completed?” he asked, knowing they would play a major role in protecting the castle.
“Almost,” Eli replied. “They are being set up at strategic places along the top of the castle walls.”
“I’ll see what I can do to lend a hand,” Malachi said, parting ways with Eli and shouldering his way back down the stairs.
He earned himself a few annoyed stares while he moved against the flow of bodies to get to the high, stone wall surrounding the courtyard and castle. The crowd thinned as he neared the gates, turning left to navigate the steep, stone steps carved into the side of the wall. He ascended them with swift steps, arriving at the top of the wall just in time to see a young man buckle under the weight of a large, wooden beam.
Rushing forward, he lent a hand, snatching the beam from the boy and setting it into its place within the catapult.
“Thanks,” said the boy—a Werewolf, he noticed. “You’re really strong.”
Malachi shrugged and conjured a little smile for the boy. “It was no trouble.”
Glancing past him, Malachi spied three more of the catapults spaced out along the wall. Between them, massive wooden crossbows sat mounted on top of the stone, with buckets full of oversized, iron-tipped arrows on the ground beneath them. He nodded his approval as he approached one, placing a hand on the mechanism that would launch the arrows into the air. The crossbow swiveled on its pedestal, which meant its wielder could aim the large arrows at foes in the air, or on the ground.
“Do you know how to shoot one of those things?”
The voice sent a chill down his spine, and caused the familiar tightness to return to his chest. Beside him, the boy he’d assisted dropped to one knee and lowered his head, murmuring “Your Majesty,” under his breath. Swallowing past the lump in his throat, Malachi turned to face her, lowering his head and bowing without meeting her gaze.
“I am a fair hand with a crossbow, Your Majesty,” he replied, keeping his gaze lowered to his shoes. “I haven’t hunted with one in some time, as I have no need to use a bow to hunt. But I’ve used them for sport a time or two.”
Her hand reached out to touch his shoulder, and he fought the urge to jerk away from the touch. When he forced himself to stare into her dark eyes, he found nothing but kindness there. A soft smile curved her perpetually red lips—appearing as if they’d been kissed by the petals of a rose. She wore her inky black hair loose down her back, with a chain of pearls resting on her head, one larger pearl resting between her eyes.
She looked like his every dream come true, but Malachi reminded himself that this dream could never be real again.
“Well?” she urged, her smile widening. “Will you stand there gaping me, or will you greet me properly?”
Before he could respond, she was on him, wrapping her arms around him in a tight hug.
“It is good to see you,” she murmured. “I’ve never gotten the chance to thank you for freeing me from my mother’s clutches. If not for you, I might never have found the strength to take my place here.”
Nodding, Malachi forced his tongue to come unglued from the roof of his mouth. Of course, she did not remember anything that had happened between them since the day he’d unlocked her powers and set her free, ensuring that the Phoenix could fully emerge. He had made sure of that.
“It has been a joy to see you grow into your role as queen,” he managed, unable to help that his voice came out rough and terse.
She frowned, her expression becoming confused. He cursed himself for being incapable of getting a handle on his emotions. He was hurting her feelings by being so distant. Yet, how else was he to protect his own heart, which felt as if it had crumbled into dust?
Clearing her throat, she tried again. “How’s little Leven?”
“He is well, Your Majesty,” he replied. “Safe, in Goldun.”
Her smile faded, as she seemed to realize he would not smile back at her, or engage in pleasantries. He knew without the presence of a mirror that his face must appear like a stone to her—immovable, hard, unreadable.
“Good,” she murmured. “I am glad to hear it.”
They stared at each other in silence, and she seemed to be waiting for something—what, he could not be certain.
Finally, she forced another smile and gestured toward the crossbow. “We need someone to oversee the archers on the wall. As you have experience with the crossbow, perhaps you might like the position.”
Glancing at the crossbow in front of him, Malachi considered the offer. He did have experience with the weapon, and being on the wall would give him a good vantage point for watching everything as it happened. He had to assume Desdemona would fight in Phoenix form, which meant she would meet any aerial attacks. If he manned the crossbow, he could help pick off anything that might try to take her down. Protecting the queen was his main objective, as he understood that losing her would bring an end to the liberation of Fallada.
“I am honored that you would trust me with something so important,” he replied. “I accept, thank you.”
“Very well,” she replied with a nod. “When we meet in the great hall, I will ensure that the other archers know to report to you.”
He inclined his head and executed another bow. “As you wish, Your Majesty.”
Nodding in satisfaction, she turned to walk away, approaching an armed and armored Warrior Faerie. She glanced back at him, her brow furrowed as if trying to determine what might be wrong with him.
I’m a Shifter male without the woman he wants for a mate, dear Des. Nothing too serious, really ... I’m simply dying inside by degrees.
Turning away from her, he continued down the wall, deciding to examine the crossbows to ensure each was in working order. He could not remain here much longer. Being so near her without being able to have her in the way he wanted would surely kill him. But first, this battle needed to be fought and won. Once Mollac had been secured, he could leave Semran Hall and, with any luck, never be forced to lay eyes on her again.