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Averell thought she’d been angry when her mother had used magic to bind Prince Charming to a tree. It was nothing compared to the rage coursing through her veins when that same woman had zapped Quinn with enough energy to put down a large stag.
And then to see him shift into the wolf? A shudder rippled down her spine as he lay at her feet, still twitching but in his animal form. Ominous growls came from him that sent fear sailing over her skin. How long would it be before he regained control of his faculties and came after the queen—or me?
“Leave them alone, Mother,” she demanded. “Your fight at this moment is with me.” She resettled the dagger in her palm. “If I am to die anyway, it will be defending Prince Charming, for he has done nothing to you and does not deserve to die.”
Queen Grimhilde, the ruler of Sarringden, narrowed her eyes. With a wave of her hand, she sent Quinn’s form careening across the arbor and crashing into one of the trellis arches bedecked with creamy yellow roses. Wood splintered and foliage scattered. “Why so noble? You do not know either one of these men, for your miserable father locked you away from the world.”
Heat slapped at Averell’s cheeks. “That is none of your concern.” She waved the dagger. “Destiny meets us regardless of what stands in its way or the roads we take to avoid it.” Her mind reeled at the truth of that statement. Her father had tried so hard to keep everyone from her, but the one man she’d needed had found her anyway.
She caught her breath at the wonder of it all, but there would be time enough to marvel at it later.
“Ha!” Her mother shook with laughter. “You love one of them, but which?” She tapped her fingertip against her chin as she contemplated Prince Henry. “I suppose it doesn’t matter, but how fortuitous to know that my daughter is very close to being an influence in this kingdom.”
“I will not let you use me to further your demented agenda.” From the corner of her eye, Quinn crept along the perimeter of the rose arbor. If she didn’t do something and fast, both he and his brother would die.
“These men are not for you. They cannot give you what you most desire,” her mother crooned and recalled Averell’s attention back to her.
“Which is what?” Her mother knew nothing of her personal thoughts. She left the pear tree where the prince was tied. Perhaps if she could draw the queen away, Quinn could defend him and move himself out of danger.
“Using and strengthening your magic.” A grin stretched her red lips. “It’s what separates us from the peasants, and the animals, my dear.” Her voice was a purr. “I keep you alive even now in the hopes you’ll come to your senses. If you don’t, every minute that passes, your strength will fade and eventually your heart will simply... stop. Magic has a multitude of uses. Such is the spell I’ve put upon you in the event you do not carry out your orders.”
What a horrible scourge this woman is! “No, the ability to choose our actions is what separates us.” Averell tried to locate Quinn without breaking her gaze from her mother, but she couldn’t place him. Her time was limited; she needed to use it wisely. “If you are what happens when magic is abused, I want no part of it.”
“Nonsense.” The queen smiled with patient indulgence as if Averell was a wayward child that required discipline. “Everyone wishes to be more powerful, more beautiful or simply... more. It’s where insecurity springs from. Magic removes that.”
“I think not.” Averell shook her head. “Magic is all around us. It can work for good, and there are forms that are powerful, even more so than what you wield. Not all of it is evil.”
“Please.” Queen Grimhilde rolled her eyes. “If love is the magic you speak of, that fades and leaves naught but a broken heart and scars behind. Revenge, my dear, bolsters a person and forces them to pull from the power deep within themselves. That’s when a person truly accomplishes something, finds out who they are.”
For the first time, Averell felt a glimmer of understanding for the woman who’d given her life. Had it been her father who’d broken her heart, or another man, another scenario where life hadn’t played out like Grimhilde had hoped? In the end, it didn’t matter. A person’s choice made them good or bad. It guided them through life as the lessons were learned. “I don’t believe you.” She took a few steps toward the queen, the blade of her dagger leading the way. “We’re done here.”
“Oh, but we are not.” The queen drew an apple from the depths of her cloak. She held it in her palm, the fruit red and shining in the moonlight. “Take this, dear. Make certain Prince Charming has a nice, big bite of it.”
“Why?” Averell frowned as her mother tossed over the apple. She caught it in her free hand. “Now is not the time to ply a prisoner with foodstuffs.”
“Honestly, humans are quite stupid to work with.” The queen shook her head. “Foolish girl, it’s a poisoned apple, one I mean to use on Snow White but need to test it.” She gestured to the bound prince. “Two birds with one stone... or apple as it were.”
Averell’s heartbeat accelerated. She threw the apple far from her. It rolled beneath a rose bush. “You’re mad, and time is running short.” Hoping that Quinn would release his brother before he tried to fight, she sprang at the queen, tackling the other woman to the ground in a tangle of limbs and skirting. Her hair tumbled from its combs to further complicate matters. “Papa always said to never kill a human unless my life was threatened,” she panted as she rolled over the ground in the attempt to pin the queen beneath her. Her unbound tresses fell around her. The queen was slim but she was strong. “I’d say this qualifies.”
Finally, she straddled the other woman, securing the woman’s upper arms with a press of her knees. She lifted her dagger high but Grimhilde laughed, the hated sound ringing through the rose arbor.
“Idiot! Do you truly believe a poison-tipped dagger of my own creation will end my life?” With a surprising show of strength, she bucked and dislodged Averell. “I am immune to such poison; I made it.”
“But not the sting of the blade itself, I’ll wager.” She grappled again with the queen but this time was thrown clear of the woman. When she landed hard on her back, the dagger flew from her hand to thud to the grass a few feet away. Behind her, Henry called softly in encouragement—to her or his brother?
The queen struggled to her feet. Hatred twisted her visage into a mask of horror. “You’ll not come close enough for a second attempt.”
“That doesn’t stop me from trying.” She had to reach that blade, but risked a peek at her mother.
The queen sneered as Averell crawled toward the weapon. “You disappoint me, girl.” Lightning flew from the Grimhilde’s finger.
Intense, heated pain pushed through every nerve ending of Averell’s body. It was as if she were being burned from the inside out. She screamed the same moment Quinn in wolf form lunged at the queen. Oh, Quinn, please don’t. “She’ll kill you” she whispered, or tried to, but her lips wouldn’t move. They were numb. Neither did her limbs listen to her brain’s command to function. It was almost as if her body was frozen, except she wasn’t cold due to the burn of magic sparking through her veins.
He didn’t listen anyway. Not her stubborn prince.
Grimhilde hit the ground. Quinn wasted no time climbing upon her. He stood upon her chest, his gaping jaws over her throat. “You do not know how to control your magic.” Her laughter grated across Averell’s nerves like salt into a wound as she stared down the wolf. “Pity. This kingdom could be so much greater, and it will once I take it over.”
Another flash emanated from her finger. The wolf yelped and flew off the queen’s form. He landed in a heap not far from Averell. Their gazes locked. Within his amber depths, Quinn implored her to keep fighting.
She nodded. I will, with any strength remaining to me so that you might live free and happy.
Slowly, the pain and fire faded from her body, and Averell again dragged herself toward the dagger. Once she had it in hand, she pushed to her feet and reached into the clever pocket the fairy seamstress had sewn into her skirts. While she withdrew a small leather pouch, she advanced upon her mother’s position.
“This ends now,” she whispered, the words forced from a tight throat. Every step she took brought a host of pins and needles to every muscle. Was it the original spell of death her mother had put upon her or residual effects from the lightning zap?
Queen Grimhilde laughed. “Haven’t you witnessed by now that you have no power to defeat me?” She raised her hand once more, her forefinger extended.
“Oh, I am well aware of that, Mother.” Would she expire if hit with that flash again? “However, I don’t need to defeat you. That is a task for another.” Averell loosened the leather ties of the pouch. She poured out a measure of glittering fairy dust into her palm—a gift from the seamstress. “But there is something equally important I wish to do.”
She rushed as close as she dared to the evil queen and then dashed the fairy dust into her mother’s direction. It shimmered and sparkled in a cloud of green, pink and purple around the woman.
“That is the extent of your powers?” The queen laughed and her finger bobbed. “It is weak magic at best.”
“Weak, perhaps,” Averell said as she settled the dagger firmly into her palm though it grew more difficult to hold, “But quite effective. It shows me the thread that connects us.” Sure enough, when the sparkling dust cloud faded, all that remained was a thread of spun silver, as if a magical spider had woven it, a thread that tethered her to this woman who held nothing but evil and vanity in her heart.
“What difference does that make? Of course we have a connection. We are related.” The queen frowned and she pointed her finger again, but this time to the side at Quinn, who had crawled back to their location. “I grow weary of these amateur games. Time to turn the princes into ash.”
“Not while I still have breath.” Averell moved, and her strength gave out. She fell to her knees at the queen’s side, but it was close enough. As the silvery illumination faded along the gossamer thread, she sliced through that link with the poisoned dagger’s blade. Silver sparks shot into the air. Powerful magic, indeed, that poison, but it did the job she’d hoped.
Queen Grimhilde gasped. She staggered back a step. Her beauty and young appearance diminished and in its place came the visage of an old woman, wrinkled, haggard, stringy white hair and with a wart on her chin. “Foolish girl, with this betrayal, you no longer have access to any magic I have given you upon your birth.”
“I am glad for it. Now you will leave me in peace.” The dagger fell from her hand to land in the grass with a soft thud. “Be gone. I want no part of you.” Her limbs had the constitution of cooked porridge and even now, her heartbeats had slowed to dangerous levels. No doubt part of her mother’s ultimate plan with the original spell.
“Such a waste, but I will return to Annanvale.” With a shriek that shook the leaves of the trees and bushes, the queen vanished into a puff of green and purple mist.
“At least she is gone.” Averell maneuvered to her knees so she could look at Quinn. “Set your brother free and leave this place.”
Perhaps he would kiss her one last time...
As she leaned on one hand, her lungs hurting with each breath, Quinn shifted from his wolf form in a mist of white light. While proudly and apparently unashamedly naked, he manipulated the bonds that held his brother.
“And you thought our family had issues,” he said to his brother in a joking manner as the ropes dropped away and Prince Charming stepped from the tree.
Averell smiled. He had such a pleasing voice. His form was every woman’s dream. Perhaps he could learn to love again once she had left this moral world. Find happiness.
“I think I’ll be more appreciative of Father and his foibles from now on,” Charming replied as he rubbed his wrists. “You have yourself quite a formidable woman, Quinn.” He waved at her, grinning as he did so. “As you know, I’m Prince Charming, but I’d be honored if you call me Henry. I have a feeling we’ll see much of each other in the coming days.”
“Thank you, but I am dying.” Her words were a whisper. She put both hands onto the ground. The cool, soft grass rasped against her palms. The light of the moon frosted it over with silver. How beautiful it looked, and combined with the heady scent of roses, it was a romantic place. A peaceful spot for her final rest. “Quinn, I...” Her heart thudded painfully, preventing her from speaking the words she most wished to tell him. She’d failed to complete the queen’s task, which ushered in her demise, but she had accomplished her own. “Quinn.” As he raced over the grass toward her, she closed her eyes and collapsed to the ground. Through the haze clouding her brain, she remembered the kindly centaur. “Tumius, help me.”
Heavy darkness snatched at her and pulled her under.
“Averell!” Quinn’s cry of anguish followed her down.
She awoke to the warm pressure of lips upon hers. Insistent lips. Lips that didn’t belong to the man who should kiss her, but magical lips just the same, for her whole body tingled with awareness and renewal. Energy zipped through her veins as if she were being knitted back together by a power she didn’t understand.
When she blinked open her eyes, from her position on her back, Averell stared up into the handsome face of the centaur she’d helped the night of her father’s death. She expelled a sigh, and then realized she was indeed alive, so she inhaled deeply and let out that breath. “You came.”
His blond hair gleamed in the moonlight. “I said I would, and I pride myself on keeping my promises.” He eased her into a sitting position, the muscles in his arms and chest flexing with the movement. Yes, he was a gorgeous creature, but he wasn’t the man who set her world on fire. Where was Quinn? “Careful, now. Reanimation after death is a delicate process and you’ll want to go slowly until the magic has finished its repairs.”
“How is any of this possible?” Her mind spun with the impossible implications.
“All beings possess a certain amount of magical powers. It is limited to specific tasks. However, most humans rarely wish to cultivate that power, so it fades, and they eventually grow out of it. Only the extraordinary ones hold it dear. My skill happens to lie in bringing back newly dead beings. It’s a one-time shot, so don’t waste it.” When a growl erupted behind her, the centaur chuckled.
Averell glanced over her shoulder. Quinn, still naked, had been frozen in mid-stride, but the flash of ire in his eyes was evidence he still lived.
“I can also temporarily halt someone’s movements.” Tumius smiled. “In some cases, because reanimation is activated by a kiss that essentially breathes life back into a being, others, especially the territorial ones, must be frozen for their own good if the magic is allowed time to work.” He smirked at Quinn and snapped the fingers of one hand. “Your man isn’t best pleased I’ve intruded on what he sees as his.”
Quinn regained his forward momentum but stopped abruptly when he reached their position. “If you wish to keep your arms, I suggest you step away from her before I rip them from their sockets and beat you with them.” The warning rumbling through his voice was unmistakable.
Behind him, Henry approached the scene with more finesse and grace. He had a glass shoe clutched in one hand. “Don’t make more of an ass of yourself than you can help, Quinn. Can you not see the man saved the life of your lady love? He has no designs on her.”
“It’s true,” Tumius said, but he did stand and back away a few steps, his impressive half human half horse form on display in the moonlight. “I have a woman of my own, and while she isn’t fond of the way I heal, it is a necessary annoyance which I make up to her in spectacular fashion.” His smile was as dazzling as the sun, and he extended a hand to Quinn. “I am Tumius, and my debt to Averell is now repaid.”
With an expression akin to a thundercloud, Quinn shook the proffered hand. “Thank you for the kindness and consideration.” The words sounded pulled from him. “If she had died...” He didn’t finish the thought but a muscle in his cheek twitched.
“I understand and you are most welcome.” The centaur nodded and then set his startling green gaze upon her. “I must away. The forests are filled with many horrors; some of which I can fix. Live your life happy and fulfilled. Show compassion to others as you have been given. Discover you magic and use it wisely.” He switched his attention to Quinn. “A word of advice, my friend? Find some clothes. There are times when naked is not a good look for a man. A well-dressed human can arouse more effectively as one unclothed.”
“You’re merely jealous of what I offer,” Quinn tossed off with a cheeky grin.
“Am I?” Tumius moved a hand up and down to indicate his sculpted chest. “You haven’t seen me in my full human form; otherwise, it would be you who is jealous, wolf.” In a twinkling and with a wink, the centaur bounded from the rose arbor to disappear into the tree line beyond.
Henry’s laugh chased away any lingering ill-effects from the queen’s magic. “Oh, this has been a most memorable night indeed.” He snickered again until a look from Quinn quelled his mirth. “Obviously the two of you need time to adjust and no doubt utter sweet nothings. I; however, have a woman to find who fits into this slipper.” He held the footwear aloft. “Wish me luck. Would that I will be as happy as you, brother.”
Once they were alone, Averell sighed. “Your brother is correct. It’s been a most memorable night.”
“Don’t remind me.” Quinn held out a hand and when she slipped her fingers into his palm, he assisted her into a standing position. “Are you well? Will you suffer a relapse?” A trace of fear lingered in his eyes.
“I am weak, but my strength gains with every breath.” So wonderful was the ability to breathe again, she inhaled a lungful of crisp summer night air and expelled it. “And you?”
“Healing. My wolf’s magic is efficient. I’ll suffer no ill-effects.”
She nodded. There was much to learn about him. “I am free of the queen’s influence.”
“You lost whatever magic you possessed.”
“Yes, at least what was given to me from her.” She frowned. She’d never know what she’d been capable of. Even now, she no longer felt the restlessness deep inside, but perhaps magic came in many different forms, as the centaur had said. “I am unremarkable.”
“No.” He pulled her into his arms and wrapped her in a tight embrace. She borrowed from his strength. “You are as you’ve always been: extraordinary.”
Her heart fluttered from his words as a butterfly ballet began low in her belly. “Ah, Quinn. How glad I am that you are here.” Pushing out of his arms, she retrieved the leather pouch she’d dropped. When she emptied the remainder of the fairy dust into her palm, he gasped and stepped away.
“What are you doing?” His dark eyes rounded.
Averell didn’t answer. She threw the fairy dust at him. It shimmered in the air as it settled around him and soon the gossamer thread that connected them gleamed golden in the moonlight.
A sick expression crossed his face. “Do you wish to shatter our connection too—our fated bond?” He pressed a hand to his heart as if the very thought caused him pain.
How dear he was. “No.” With gentle fingers, she traced the cord. It emitted a faint hum and gave off a sharp zap of energy. She left it alone as the fairy’s magic faded and the thread was no longer visible. “I merely wished to see the truth, the evidence with my own eyes of how I felt for you.”
“Which is?” Now that she allayed his concerns, a wicked gleam sparked in his gaze that promised wonderful, delicious, decadent things.
A shiver wracked her shoulders. Her heart trembled. “I love you, every part of you. Man or wolf, it doesn’t matter. You are mine. It’s as simple as that.” Truly, it was. She smiled as need for him warmed her insides. “We’ve known each other for three days and already, I know I cannot live without you. What more do you want to hear?”
“This.” He sank to one knee before her, a picture of manly perfection and devotion. “Marry me. Spend your life with me. Discover the magic we can make together.”
“Will we live in the castle?” She chewed her lower lip. “I’m not certain how I’ll feel about that. The plush luxuries leave me anxious even if the trappings of such are beautiful.”
He snorted. “There are other residences my father owns, some even tucked away in the woods. We shall live in one of them if you so wish.” Quinn grabbed her hands in his, the heat of him sinking in through her gloves. “Your answer please, Miss...” A hint of embarrassment flooded his face. “Gah, I don’t even know your surname.”
A delighted laugh bubbled up from her throat. “It’s Woode. Averell Woode, and yes, Quinn, spare prince of Annanvale, I will marry you.”
With a shout of victory, he pounced, rolling with her in his arms, kissing her cheeks, her lips, her forehead, the tip of her nose as she landed on her back, while her hair wrapped around them. “When I thought I’d lost you...”
“Hush.” She pressed a fingertip to his lips, and then promptly lost her train of thought when he took the digit into his warm mouth. “I am here with you now. Let’s make the best of it and as Tumius said, don’t waste it.”
“Good advice.” He kissed her until her thoughts fled and her body responded with heated awareness.
Averell broke the embrace to hug him tightly about the shoulders. “I cannot wait to begin our new adventure.” Then she put her lips to his ear. “Let us start deep in the trees. I know a place near a stream where the moonlight shimmers on the water and the moss is soft...” She squealed when he moved with alacrity and caught her up into his arms.
Yes, everyone had a choice, and she was glad she’d chosen wisely.
The End