Skye
I forgot how dizzying traveling through a portal was. My body tensed from anticipation and nerves as we followed Selene and darkness closed around us. Then, just as fast, light. The vivid flare forced my eyes closed, and Thomas’s arm tightened around my waist, a low grunt rising from his chest. His fingertips cut into my ribs, keeping me upright when we stumbled from the portal and into a clearing. I blinked rapidly, acclimating my eyes to the bold blue of the winter sky. A prickling rush of energy shocked my body as it swept up from my heels to the roots of my hair. The atmosphere was different here. Alive.
Looking to Thomas to see if he felt it, my lips parted to ask when I found myself staring at a line of weapon-wielding fae in the middle of a meadow. A band of Semvon circled us all.
My free hand grabbed the edge of Thomas’s tunic blindly. “You will run if we’re attacked.”
“And invite your husband to slit me open?” My loyal guard scoffed. “I will do no such thing. I believe I like my odds against these creatures better.”
Our movement set off a wave of murmurs between the fae.
“Thomas—” I hissed.
“The heir to the Mercier throne has come to me at last.” Tabor’s words slithered through the air and across my skin like poison trickling through the bloodstream, slow and damaging. My shoulders curled inward, protecting my body from the perceived threat. Beside me Thomas stiffened and the fae grew more restless. Weapons clicked like mugs of ale in celebration as feet shuffled.
The last time I was in the same room as Tabor we left scars on each other—courtesy of Xander’s dagger—as parting gifts. My fingers closed over that same dagger now, needing the caress of steel to fortify me while Tabor stepped through the line of fae before me. I drew a deep breath and stood straighter, even as swallowing became increasingly difficult.
The head of black stringy hair was familiar, but the rest of the man walking toward me looked nothing like the angry one I fought in the Queen’s chamber months ago. Little human remained in the curves of his face or the movement of his limbs. No emotion flickered in the black eyes studying me.
His dark head turned as he glanced about. “All alone?”
Thomas grunted. “I imagine I should be offended at being overlooked.”
I resisted the urge to kick my overzealous protector. “You sent fighters to our villages, and this witch”—my gaze didn’t transfer from Tabor’s as I spoke of Selene—“to my doorstep. There was little time to form a traveling party.”
The verbal jab didn’t draw a single grin. Sarcasm was wasted on the evil. My thumb traced the etchings on my dagger’s hilt, pulling an invisible strength from the Guardian who wasn’t here. “Do I call you Tabor? Or are you someone else now? Drakoon, maybe?”
At the name Drakoon the fae shifted. Their dull eyes watched me closely. Exhaustion and pain were etched on their once ethereal faces. Whatever magic the Drakoon used had scratched away at their beauty leaving them mindless. Emotionless.
“I. Am. Riglă.”
His words echoed through the meadow like he’d shouted them from the highest mountaintop instead of uttered them from half-closed lips and the air stilled. I winced at the sound and the sharp twinge in my temple from it. Beside me Thomas groaned.
“Thomas?” My trusted soldier fisted his unruly hair and swayed drunkenly. His dark eyes flicked to mine. “What is it?” I reached for him.
Muted hisses joined Thomas’s moans in a crescendo of pain. Behind Tabor, weapons fell to the ground as his army dropped to their knees. Even Selene clutched her head.
His power. Whatever mind control he possessed, he used it now. The prodding at my temple returned and retreated. It was uncomfortable, but not unbearable. Nothing like what Thomas and the others knew. The elves were right, the Drakoon’s ancient magic could not control me. Thomas grunted at my feet and my temporary relief faded. I was stupid. So, so stupid to bring him with me. I touched his cheek and steered his focus to my face. Pain etched deep lines around his eyes. I looked at the writhing fae as if my help lay with them. Of course there was nothing. They were possessed by a demon with a lust for power. All of them. The few here and the many rushing toward Montibello, Ridgecrest, and Ballinger right now. And Thomas would join their ranks because I’d brought him here with me.
I gathered myself from my knees. “Let him go, Tabor! It’s me you want. I’m here.”
For the first time since I followed her through the portal, Selene spoke, though it was through gritted teeth. “The human would be useful if the Queen does not cooperate,” she said almost too softly for my ears. “Leverage.”
With the strength of power he displayed, why would he need any sort of leverage? He could easily control the population of Tyalbrook.
The tension in the air loosened its grip and the pained gasps and writhing bodies stopped as quickly as they’d begun. Thomas released his grip on my gown with a sigh. I offered him assistance to his feet and Selene sidled to Tabor’s side. Her pale gaze slid to where I stood while her lips moved close to his ear.
With a nod, Tabor turned. “Seize them both.”
My fear returned. “Stop,” I shouted as the red eyes that haunted my childhood floated toward us and Tabor retreated from the way which he came. “Where is my sister? What do you want with me?” I shouted at his back.
There was no response as the Semvons’ black shrouded forms closed in. Thomas gained his feet with a menacing growl, his hand already on his sword. I stopped him. “Don’t.”
“Milady?” he implored. His dark eyes surveyed our predicament. I knew his thoughts, but…
“They will only kill you. Or worse.” I added. I couldn’t handle anything happening to him, and Xander needed time to catch up with us.
Thomas’s gaze moved beyond the creatures surrounding us to the fae who disbanded. His brows furrowed with reluctant understanding.
“Tabor?” I shouted again, but my view was blocked by black shadows and robes.
The shimmer of a spindly arm reached for me and I jerked away, nearly spitting at the creature. “We can walk on our own.”
After a moment, the Semvon acquiesced. Their black robes fluttered around their legless bodies as they formed a path for us.
Thomas took my elbow and lowered his lips to my ear. “What have we gotten ourselves into?”
I shrugged, unable to admit my stupidity. Could Thomas outrun the fae or Semvon if they chased him? How far did Tabor’s mind control power reach?
“Don’t think it.” Thomas’s fingers dug into my arm. “I won’t be running off and leaving you.”
His intentions didn’t matter. We were separated.
“Follow.” A gravelly voice ordered as a Semvon pushed Thomas sideways, forcing space between our bodies.
The loyal Guardian jerked away and stuck to my side. His brown eyes questioning as he peered down at me. If I issued the order, he would fight. I knew this. He would slay however many enemies he could and die in the process. I gave my head a subtle shake. Go, it’s all right, I assured silently. His jaw clenched in frustration before he squeezed my arm and obeyed the nudging at his back. They broke off to the left as a group surrounding me pressed forward. There was nothing before us but open fields. No bodies of water, no forests. The western mountains were visible on the horizon, half a day’s ride at best. What was Tabor—no, the Drakoon—thinking? He had maybe thirty allies in an unprotected opening, and he had his enemy’s Queen. He brazenly courted war with this position. Was that his plan?
Hours later I was still contemplating the answer to my question as I sat crossed legged on a sodden patch of brown grass in the middle of a circle of Semvon guards. No one spoke. No one paid me attention, though every set of glowing eyes looked my way more than once. I had only the black robed backs of my capturers, the ground below me, and the sky above to look at. I shivered at the rhythmic vibrations pulsating through my body. The energy I’d felt when we first arrived was stronger now that I could focus on it. Magic. It had to be. But not Tabor’s. Not dark and evil. This was soothing, sparking awareness. It spoke to me, though the language was an unfamiliar one.
I ripped a patch of trampled grass from the ground with frustration. The grip of winter had only recently melted from this valley. My damp rear and legs bore that proof. In Montibello and the villages near the Pren Mountains, winter held its hold on the land. The elevation was higher there. Even the Western Mountains were still snow covered. I could see the white mist blowing from the peaks in the distance from where I now sat. But this little valley where a monster had chosen to set up camp? Spring was close here.
I envisioned spring at Montibello as the cold air of dusk crept in. Drawing my knees to my chest, I buried my hands between the excess fabric of my skirt and pictured home. The flowers covering the hills, the sun glinting off the Sea of Doran in the mid-afternoon. The new life that soon would be birthed in the stables and barns. Mentally drawing the ripples of magic kissing at my skin into my soul I clung to what was to come. The promise of new beginnings—but first we had to win this fight.
Xander
“Saddle a horse!” I ordered, turning around before the portal was fully closed. I did not allow fear to enter. I erected a wall in my mind—thick and unbreakable—separating emotion from action.
“Come and find me.”
I would do just that.
The prickling of our bond grew dull as the last wisps of the portal vanished, but the pressure in my chest intensified. Like a hook catching a fish, an invisible line drew taut between me and Skye; linking us even while we were apart. With every step I took back toward the castle, the line tugged. Go west, the internal compass whispered.
Barda’s clipped steps ate at my heels. He didn’t ask questions or voice concerns. “Find her mother and Emeline. Have them wait in the hall for me,” I snapped with as even a tone as I could manage.
“Aye.”
“And Barda?” I called after his back. His normally open and friendly tensed features tensed. “Be ready to ride.”
That drew a determined smile as he bobbed his redhead. “Aye.”
I marched through Montibello’s corridors with my head high and back straight. Curious looks told me the rumor mill was already spinning. It wasn’t until I reached Skye’s room, our room, that my legs faltered. I pushed away from the wall where I’d sagged with a curse.
No emotions, I chanted while I took up my swords and strapped them across my back.
No emotions, I repeated, buckling my thick leather armor across my thighs and chest.
No emotions. I touched the bed where Skye slept. My hand sinking into the blankets and fisting. The room smelled like her. A new aroma, a special herbal soap Emeline made for her recently. I inhaled deeply, writing the scent on my memory. Then I turned to leave. It was time to rescue my wife.
The hook and line tethering me to Skye’s whereabouts did not falter through the night. Our small band of Guardians rode fast and hard, remaining south of Ballinger, along the river west; stopping to rest the horses and our bodies for an hour once the moon was high in the sky. Mid-morning on the second day, we were crossing the channel dividing Tyalbrook south of the Falene River when something drew my attention to the forest tree-line.
“Whoa.” Barda raised his left arm, and our horses drew to a stop. “Xander?”
“I saw it.” My eyes strained as a cloaked form broke from the cover the trees provided. A single rider.
An elven scout.
“The elves will come.” Skye was so sure of it.
With relief, I spurred my horse.