Chapter 1 #2
“But of course. I knew you must have intended to invite me, even if you did somehow mislay my invitation.” Lorelei smiled sweetly and felt every human guest around her cringe at the sight.
“How could my ladies and I possibly stay away? In fact…” She clapped her hands together in theatrical delight.
“Why don’t we liven things up a bit with a party game?
I seem to recall that, for some bizarre reason, your husband recently chose to expel every one of your fae citizens from Savelberg’s borders …
so why don’t we make up for everything you’ve all been missing since then? ”
Glancing over her shoulder, she sent a sparkling grin at her attendants. “Shall we, ladies?”
Katrin shrugged with the same easy grace that made her an excellent swordfighter. “It would make tonight more interesting…”
“… And I have been longing for another treat.” Feral gold flashed in Ilse’s green eyes, and her teeth sharpened in anticipation.
“Wait!” The Archduchess started forward, lifting one lace-bedecked arm as if she actually hoped to stop them.
She should have known better. Mere humans could never act as quickly as a powerful fae queen and her most trusted inner circle.
It only took a single wrinkle of Lorelei’s nose and two high, eerie whistles from her attendants before the familiar spell was cast and vibrant green vegetation surged up from the floor of the ballroom.
Bejeweled guests started back with cries of raw fear as tall trees and giant, poisonous blooms erupted between them and their companions.
Even more greenery fell in long, trailing loops of ivy and carnivorous blossoms from the crystal chandeliers, while tiny sprites shot through the room, darting in and out of elegantly piled hairstyles with gleeful, tangling mischief and sneaking stolen sips of aristocrats’ champagne.
Shadows shifted and elongated in the corners, transforming into tall, spindly creatures made of branches and thorns, with drooping fingernails and sharp teeth that glistened wetly in the candlelight.
The wild, exhilarating scent of Faerie filled the air, and Lorelei smiled with perfect satisfaction.
“General de Moireul!” The Archduchess bleated the name like a prayer, spinning around and searching the vegetation-shielded crowd. Her voice rose above all the other panicked commotion in a screamed demand: “General de Moireul!”
… And there was the real reason Lorelei had chosen to grace this particular gathering with her presence. Her eyes narrowed as she prepared to finally meet the new enemy whose name had been popping up more and more often in worried whispers among the Empire’s neighbors:
The Golden Beacon.
Ever since Lorelei had first claimed the throne of Balravia, spiting her late father’s wishes and all of her male cousins’ hopes, new Imperial generals had been appointed again and again across the border, spilling like brainless salmon from the dreary military schools where would-be officers were sent from across all the Empire’s archduchies.
They generally seemed interchangeable to her—but there was something different about the way she’d heard this one discussed.
As Lorelei had learned since her own ascension, there was a magical point where songs and stories tipped into legend and took on a whole new power of their own, overwhelming every detail of the tedious truth with their own irresistible, infectious appeal.
Right now, “the Golden Beacon” was still only a name.
All too soon, though, it could become a symbol and a rallying cry that spoke doom to every kingdom still clinging to freedom …
Unless someone clever, strategic, and full of magic stepped in just in time to tarnish that golden gleam.
Lorelei’s target stepped through the crowd of panicking aristocrats and greenery, and her smile deepened.
Sylvana be praised, he looked like a mountain in a uniform!
She couldn’t kill this man without making him a martyr and inspiring a bloody war of retribution—but corrupting him for the sake of her kingdom?
That might not be the chore she’d expected, after all, but a genuine pleasure.
“General de Moireul.” The Archduchess sagged with relief as he joined her. “Thank the gods, you’re here to save us all.”
“I beg your pardon, Your Highness, but … from what, exactly, do you require rescue?” The man’s voice was deliciously deep and rumbling. Still, as he turned from the Archduchess to look at her, Lorelei’s chest tightened with sudden, instinctive warning.
Those wolf-like amber eyes were far too keen. They bored into her as if he could see all of her hidden secrets laid bare before him, through every layer of glamour and gossip that functioned as her shields—and his grave, unhurried question showed no hint of the alarm he should have felt.
“Well—but you can see—just look around you, man!” The Archduchess flung out one sweeping arm to indicate the feral, fae wildness that had overwhelmed her ballroom.
Clasping his hands behind his back, the Golden Beacon nodded thoughtfully.
“As I understand it, bringing a gift—such as this decoration—to any festivity is a point of courtesy for the fae. They all follow the laws of hospitality without fail. Having publicly announced herself as your guest, I am quite certain that Queen Lorelei would never allow any actual harm to come to you or any of your guests this evening.”
Well … fuck. Lorelei’s smile didn’t lessen, but she purred her next words with sickly sweetness.
“A soldier who’s paid attention to his studies!
How marvelously unusual.” Sweeping forward, she closed one hand as far as she could around his absurdly over-large, muscular arm and fluttered her eyelashes at him.
Colorful sparkles flew free at her command to dust possessively across his uniform coat and medals as she breathed in the pleasant combination of scents created by his soap, shaving cream, and sweat.
“Your Highness, you must allow me to claim this man as my escort for tonight. I’m sure he’ll keep all of us wonderfully safe. ”
“Oh, very well.” The Archduchess snapped out her fan and wielded it before her flushed cheeks. “I hope you and your ladies will all enjoy your evening as our guests!”
“How could we not?” Lorelei watched, still smiling, as the Archduchess turned with a sharp flick of her fan and marched into the crowd to attempt a belated reconquest of her party.
Lorelei couldn’t care less about that battle, nor about any of the aristocrats milling in a wide circle around her now, whispering excitedly and visibly debating the risks of swarming the infamous Fae Queen of Balravia while she stood within their midst.
She would leave Katrin and Ilse to find their own personal triumphs in that crowd. Tonight, she had a far more important battle to fight.
“So … the famous Golden Beacon.” She tipped her head back to meet his amber eyes.
The impact of that piercing gaze was just as much a shock to her system this time as it had been moments before—but that was the effect of mere physical charisma, to which she’d learned bitter immunity years ago. “We meet at last.”
“Your Majesty.” He nodded respectfully, his features as impassive as if she weren’t casting the delicious scent of just-opening roses from her skin.
He should have been leaning closer to subtly breathe it in by now, even if he didn’t want to shatter his dour affect by smiling—but he held his arm as stiffly within her clasp as if he were standing in a military parade.
“Would you care to be escorted to the refreshments table?”
“Truly, I would prefer to dance with you.” She leaned in confidingly, adding the first breath of spring to her scent and allowing a gurgle of laughter to enter her voice, as if she were sharing secrets.
“Perhaps I should have left a single open clearing in the ballroom, just big enough for the two of us to share.”
“Alas, I do not dance.” His features didn’t even twitch. “However, I would be happy to introduce you to any number of fine dancers in attendance.”
“No dancing at all? Ever?” She made a face, only half theatrically. “Don’t you allow yourself a single pleasure, General?”
“I enjoy serving my empire.”
Sylvana’s tears! Was any man truly so dreary? She tilted her head, lowering her voice into a husky drawl as she trailed one finger across his uniformed sleeve and let her magic tingle through that barrier to tease against his skin. “Perhaps I could teach you a few new pleasures tonight.”
“Your Majesty.” He kept his voice too low for any onlookers to overhear, but his words dropped like heavy stones into the air between them. “You are far too intelligent to waste any more of your time.”
“By spending it with you?” She blinked up at him with innocent, vacuous shock.
“General, you must have heard at least some of the stories about me by now.” If nothing else, the latest play based on her scandals was being performed to a sold-out theatre in this very city tonight.
“How better could I possibly entertain myself than by conversing with such a delicious military man? Everyone knows I care for nothing but my own selfish pleasures.”
“Forgive me my bluntness,” he said quietly, “but I know nothing of the sort—and regardless of the reason why you’ve sought me out tonight, you will not lure me into any indiscretions that might lessen my position, tonight or ever.
” His amber eyes held hers with implacable conviction.
“I will never falter in my duty to the Empire, no matter what the provocation. You will never turn me from my path.”
Oh, gods! Sudden insight flashed through Lorelei, and she sucked breath in through her teeth.
No wonder he’d seen through her so clearly.
She’d come prepared for yet another mortal general swept through life by natural charisma, noble birth, and a reasonably muscular build.
But in this man’s eyes, she glimpsed the inexorable flames of divine fire that fueled epic, world-shifting victories in his future.
In his voice, she heard the unmistakable echo of a destiny being written by the gods of the Imperial pantheon themselves.
Lorelei released his arm as if it had burned her like the magic-repelling iron rails currently being planned by Imperial engineers to crisscross the vast Empire—part of the mortal world’s endless, vicious fight to extinguish the life and color from every corner of the continent.
Meanwhile, the god of war and justice who stood at the head of the Imperial pantheon, Divine Jovar, smiled in benevolence upon His chosen few …
Including the man who loomed before her now, certain and protected in his god-touched path of conquest.
Unfortunately for him, Lorelei had her own divine sponsor—and more than enough personal stubbornness to move mountains.
“General de Moireul.” She swept a curtsey so deep, it went beyond respect into the deepest and most blatant public insolence.
Then she smiled up at his beautiful, impenetrable face with all of her own goddess-blessed ferocity and brilliance for once unhidden …
and she had the satisfaction of seeing his eyes flare wide in sudden, startled acknowledgement. “I hereby accept that challenge.”