Chapter 6
T he next two days passed in a frenzy of preparations.
Menelaus, Aeolia, and I worked frantically from dawn until dusk to supply and plan our flight north. Jacinthe and her companions helped where they could, which lightened our burden considerably.
I was proud of how much my daughter had matured during the eighteen months we’d spent apart. She’d grown into a fine young woman able to command the loyalty of a diverse group of friends, including the Duke of Frankia’s children.
I recalled how the present duke’s father had been a thorn in my parents’ side when I was younger, along with Beltrán’s father.
For my part, I shared how the imperial legions marched and fought, and everything I’d learned about Beltrán de Norhas, who’d served as the Dominion’s defense minister until his downfall for plotting against Mother.
Fernan de Norhas willingly told us all he knew about his father’s plans to usurp the imperial throne, and his information helped shape our strategy.
Every night, I slept in Menelaus’ arms in the chamber he’d dug and furnished for me deep in the cliff’s heart.
We tried making love again on the second night, only to have an unreasoning, breath-stopping fit of panic seize me once more and fling me into the grasping hands of the recent past.
After that, we kissed freely and traded cautious caresses, but took things no further.
Menelaus evinced no irritation, only concern for me. But I chafed at the knowledge that Beltrán’s treatment had broken the wings of my soul.
Even though Jacinthe had freed me from his foul compulsion charm, I was still crippled and unable to fly free, even in the hands of the Wind-Walker I loved and trusted completely.
Despite my exhaustion at the end of our busy days, I still lay awake for a long time, wondering how soon Menelaus would lose patience with a mate he couldn’t bed.
Wondering if my invisible wounds would ever heal, or if they’d continue to fester for the rest of my life.
* * *
On the third day after our arrival, Menelaus and I departed the royal aerie of Hierapolis and headed north to the capital.
I only prayed we weren’t too late to stop the Duke de Norhas. Beltrán had been planning his coup for years, and had suborned half the legions in the imperial army, while I’d had less than a week to gather allies to oppose him.
Then again, my allies were Wind-Walkers, who commanded the elements of Air and Fire. Beltrán de Norhas and his forces wouldn’t be expecting Dragons to cross the border and fight to defend the Domina-Regent. That gave us the element of surprise and a slim chance of victory.
On the four-day journey to Neapolis Capitola, Mage Armand shared my saddle on Menelaus, while Jacinthe and her friends accompanied us on Boreas’ back.
We followed the coast north, with a loosely organized group of several dozen Wind-Walkers flying in our wake. All of them were young, unmated males and females eager for battle and enough booty to establish their own aeries.
My love was a vision of shining black plumage. His Wind-Walker form was larger than even Lady Aeolia. His proud crest feathers were brilliant red, and his wings were edged with matching scarlet feathers.
Using a navigation spell to guide us, we crossed the invisible border dividing the Province of Monteleno from the Imperial Capital Territory and turned inland, crossing over vast swathes of green pastures and fields verdant with sprouting wheat and barley.
My chest tightened with emotion as the outskirts of the capital city finally came into view an hour later. The Fluvian, the great river that linked Neapolis Capitola to the sea, flowed through the heart of the city in a broad gray-green ribbon.
I gazed down at the vast metropolis that stretched out on both banks. It looked exactly the same as when I’d last seen it twenty years ago.
Dozens of graceful stone bridges still arched over the water like the stitches of an elaborate tapestry. Columned temples and ornate civic buildings with colored marble facades gleamed in the afternoon sun as they always had.
Mansions belonging to the Dominion’s leading aristocratic families lined the wide boulevards, high walls hiding their lush gardens from passers-by.
On the south bank of the river, my old home, the imperial palace, sat in the middle of a vast walled park.
“Jacinthe, look,” I shouted to my daughter, pointing down at the sprawling, tile-roofed complex of buildings and courtyards. “I never thought I’d see this place again. And not like this!”
I leaned forward and patted Menelaus’ neck feathers. “Brings back memories, doesn’t it?”
“Most of them good,” he replied. “Except for that last day.” He huffed a laugh.
I couldn’t argue with him. I’d spent a happy childhood within those walls.
Then, after graduating from the Imperial Academy as a mage-healer, I’d worked at the palace infirmary under Mage Armand a few days a week. My parents had also started training me to prepare for my future role as domina. I remembered sitting at Papa’s side during endless hours of imperial council meetings and formal audiences with officials and ambassadors.
Behind me, Mage Armand said, “I heard Mage Koray was promoted to Chief Court Healer after I was exiled. I wonder if he’s living in my old apartments at the palace.”
I remembered Tansel Koray. We’d attended many of the same classes at the Imperial Academy for the Magical Arts, and we’d both served as Mage Armand’s apprentices in the academy’s infirmary.
“At least Papa promoted someone competent,” I commented, recalling some of my better-connected but less-talented classmates at the academy.
“Indeed. He was one of my best students, though not as powerful a mage as you, Highness.” Mage Armand said. He added, “He was kind enough to send me most of my library after I arrived at Darkstone Academy.”
“Do you want us to land in the palace gardens?” Menelaus called.
Well, that’ll give the palace guards the shock of their lives , I thought with amusement.
“Yes, but don’t—” I began.
Then the thunderous roar of cannon fire and the distant clamor of battle caught my attention.
In the distance, but far too close to the city’s eastern suburbs—and the Imperial Academy—for my comfort, I saw smoke rising.
“A battle! And close by!” Menelaus exclaimed eagerly.
My stomach dropped. Are we too late? Has Beltrán already defeated Mother’s troops? Will his legions overrun the academy grounds?
Worry for Talisa, Mira, and Juno washed over me, immediately followed by concern for all the other students there.
“Forget the palace,” I decided. “We need to see what’s happening over there.”
He banked and flew toward the smoke and noise.
There, on a vast plain just upriver from the Imperial Academy, we found the beleaguered imperial forces locked in desperate combat with Duke Beltrán’s turncoat legions.
The rebel legions marching under Duke Beltrán’s silver and black double-mountain standards were accompanied by dozens of wagon-mounted cannons and other weapons of war.
As Menelaus neared the battle, I saw the loyalist forces were being forced to retreat towards the city.
Neapolis Capitola had torn down its walls a century and a half ago. It had no defenses. If Beltrán’s troops broke through the imperial defensive lines, they could slaughter the helpless citizens and loot the city at will.
The sight of wounded and dead loyalist soldiers, their bodies scattered across the trampled grass like broken dolls, made my stomach churn with rage and despair.
“We have to help them,” Jacinthe shouted. “All those soldiers down there!”
She’d always been compassionate to a fault. When we were reunited a fortnight ago, I’d learned she was studying to become a mage-healer like me, with Mage Armand as her mentor.
But as a princess-royal, I’d learned that a ruler must sometimes sacrifice for the greater good.
Jacinthe’s friends were speaking to her. I prayed Boreas, Lord Ilhan, and her other friends could to talk her out of breaking ranks to set up a field hospital.
“I don’t know! ” The wind carried Jacinthe’s words over to me. “But we can’t just let them die without doing something! ”
I had to do something. And now. Before she divided our forces.
I called, “Jacinthe, my dearest, I know it’s hard, but we have to stay focused on our mission. If we don’t stop the Duke de Norhas here and now, he’ll take the city and the imperial throne.”
Her mouth thinned in an expression eerily like Mother’s as she considered my advice.
I held my breath, hoping she wouldn’t let her emotions override the necessity for our small force to stay focused on the greater goal.
“All right,” she said at last, her expression unhappy but resolute. “Let’s go stop the Duke de Norhas.”
Menelaus opened his jaws with a deafening roar of approval. His body thrummed with anticipation, and his golden eyes blazed with joy.
He dove towards the battle raging far below us. As one, the Wind-Walkers followed us.
“There!” I heard Lord Ilhan shout. “The left flank is weak, and their center is overextended. If we strike there, we can break their lines and send them into disarray.”
“The human fledgling is right,” Menelaus said, and banked sharply.
The fighting faltered as loyalists and rebel soldiers stared up at us with awe and terror. Some fell to their knees, others brandished their weapons defiantly.
For thousands of years, Wind-Walkers had raided across our borders, carrying off livestock and peasants alike from farms and villages. They were still legendary monsters among the commoners.
“Fear not!” Menelaus bellowed, his voice carrying across the field like a thunderclap. “The Wind-Walkers fight for the domina-regent this day!”
Moments later, Menelaus issued a piercingly loud command in the Wind-Walker tongue.
As one, Boreas and the other Wind-Walkers opened their great jaws and unleashed torrents of white-hot Dragon-fire upon the rebel legions massed below us.
I watched, horrified, as soldiers and wagons burned like torches. Horses reared and bucked, throwing their riders to the ground and trampling them underfoot in the ensuing chaos.
Below us, kegs of gunpowder exploded with deafening blasts, and thick, billowing gray smoke cast a dense pall over the battlefield.
The acrid stench of sulfur and smoke from burning wood made my eyes water and my throat burn.
The Wind-Walkers dove with mighty wingbeats, scattering men and horses alike. Huge taloned feet bent and crushed cannons.
Menelaus let out a triumphant roar, his voice seeming to shake the very sky. His roar was echoed by the Wind-Walkers all around us.
The duke’s soldiers quailed before this onslaught, their courage failing in the face of such raw, primal power. Many threw down their weapons and fled, their black-and-silver standards falling to the ground as they deserted their posts.
Victory appeared to be within our grasp, though at a terrible price.
Then I heard Jacinthe’s friends shouting in distress.
Menelaus banked and wheeled around. In the distance, I spotted Boreas diving toward the ground. To my horror, Jacinthe was slumped forward in the saddle. Behind her, young Lord Ilhan held her around the waist.
“Twelve Gods!” Mage Armand exclaimed from behind me. “She’s dying!”
His gnarled fingers dug into my waist as Menelaus drove forward with powerful beats of his giant black wings.
What? My blood ran cold.
I opened my mage senses and saw twisting darkness invading my daughter’s bright aura.
“Hurry!” I urged Menelaus.
Ahead of us, Boreas unleashed a torrent of Dragon-fire on a cluster of black-robed mages, instantly engulfing them in an inferno of flames. As they shrieked in agony, Jacinthe shuddered and her screams joined theirs.
What in the name of the Divine Mother is happening to my daughter?
“Jacinthe, hold on! We’ll break the curse, I swear it!” Gwydion shouted.
I felt sick. Beltrán’s mages put a death-curse on her?
“Hurry!” I screamed at Menelaus. “There isn’t much time!”
The world around me blurred into a tempest of fear and worry as Menelaus beat his mighty wings, driving towards the patch of ground where Jacinthe now lay on the ground, surrounded by her friends.
“My love, hold on! We’re nearly there!” I shouted to Jacinthe, my voice cracking under the strain of my fear.
The sight of my sweet daughter, writhing on the crushed grass, her aura rapidly darkening as a curse devoured her life inch by inch, sent me into a protective fury.
Lord Ilhan and Prince Gwydion kneeled on either side of Jacinthe, their hands pressed to her torso as they poured a torrent of Wood magic into her. But the healing green light wilted and withered away as soon as it touched the foul curse’s tendrils.
Both young men wore expressions of panicked desperation. I watched with horror as Jacinthe fought to breathe while the black magic tightened inexorably around her chest.
Boreas, who lay curled protectively around Jacinthe and her companions, bellowed in agonized fury.
Then Menelaus landed next to Boreas. With desperate haste, I unbuckled the safety straps holding me to the saddle and slid down his side.
I only paused long enough to help Mage Armand dismount before I sprinted to where Jacinthe lay.
I fell to my knees next to Lord Ilhan and pulled her convulsing body into my arms. “Dearest, I’m here now.”
I looked up to see Mage Armand lower himself to the grass at Prince Gwydion’s side, across from me.
Recklessly, I promised, “We’re going to fix this, I swear it.”
“How can we help?” asked Lord Ilhan.
“We saved her from a death curse once before,” Prince Gwydion informed us, his inhumanly silver eyes shining with sincerity. His pale, beautiful features looked strained.
“The soul-bonding spell?” I demanded.
Both young men nodded, as did Tama, who hovered protectively behind Gwydion.
“Tell me,” I ordered.
“And hurry. We have little time,” Armand urged, confirming what I suspected.
As Gwydion quickly explained how to perform the Fae purification spell, I placed my hands next to Ilhan’s and added my power to fend off the curse’s advance.
When Gwydion finished speaking, I said, “I don’t care if the spell binds me to Jacinthe, as long as it saves her life.”
Mage Armand nodded. “I believe I know how to adjust Apprentice Gwydion’s spell to prevent it from binding us. If we translate the working to ancient Sabaean, we can alter the spell’s third verse…”
I listened to my old mentor’s explanation as I continued to channel the life energy of Wood magic into Jacinthe.
Gwydion cocked his head in a curiously birdlike gesture, as if thinking, then nodded.
“That’ll work,” he said, to my overwhelming relief. “I only wish I’d thought of it the first time we performed the spell.”
“I regret nothing ,” Ilhan said under his breath. A blush rose from his shirt collar and washed over his chiseled jawline.
Armand directed Gwydion and Ilhan to each take one of Jacinthe’s hands. They chanted the sustaining verses of the spells as they channeled a non-stop flow of life-energy into her.
Then Tama, Boreas and Menelaus added their own powers to the spell, their deep, resonant voices joining the chant as they poured their strength into my daughter.
Meanwhile, Armand and I joined hands. I let Armand take the lead in weaving the complex purifying spell as we invoked the power of all the primal elements while we sang the cleansing verses in Sabaean.
At first, the twisting black tendrils of the death curse resisted the white-hot purity of our spell. Desperately, I wielded our combined powers like a surgeon’s scalpel, slicing through the foul coils.
Slowly, much too slowly for my liking, the curse’s foul tide retreated from Jacinthe’s heart. Armand and I drew ruthlessly on Menelaus and Jacinthe’s friends to burn away every bit of darkness.
As we worked, Jacinthe’s tortured body gradually relaxed. Her expression shifted from agonized to peaceful.
The last vestiges of the curse shattered like a blown glass orb, then faded into nothingness.
I stared down at my daughter’s motionless form, frantically looking for signs of life. Had we beaten back the curse in time?
Unspeakable relief washed through me like cool water as she drew in a deep breath.
“We did it!” I exclaimed, every part of me trembling with fatigue and disbelieving joy. “We broke the death-curse. You’re safe now, my dearest.”
Jacinthe struggled up to a sitting position. I opened my arms, and she clung to me, burying her face against my shoulder.
Too close … I’d almost lost her forever. It made me want to scream. And fall down on the ground weeping.
But right now, my daughter needed me to be strong. And my people—the helpless citizens of Neapolis Capitola—needed me to protect them from Beltrán de Norhas.
I could fall apart later, when I was alone. When no one could see how weak I really was.
When Jacinthe raised her head at last, she looked around at the circle of concerned faces.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “That’s two death curses in a row foiled, thanks to you all.”
“We’re becoming experts in banishing those things,” Gwydion said flippantly, his Fae composure restored. “Perhaps we should advertise our services once we’re back at the academy.”
He, Tama and Ilhan helped Jacinthe, Mage Armand, and me to our feet.
I didn’t miss how fervently Ilhan embraced Jacinthe, or the tenderness with which he kissed her temple.
“Let’s saddle up,” he said to her. “The battle isn’t over yet.”
“Not while that fucking earthworm Beltrán de Norhas still draws breath!” Menelaus growled. His enormous head swung toward me, his eyes glowing with predatory intent. “My mate, come. We still have work to do.”
“Damn right we do,” Boreas agreed, crouching so that Ilhan and Tama could help Jacinthe back into the saddle.