Chapter 41
CHAPTER 41
I slam my fist into his face, snapping his head sharply to the side. He barely moves, unyielding as marble, and the strike sends a fierce ache through my knuckles. The pain is sharp and biting, but I need it to sharpen my senses. I have to feel something other than heartbreak.
Magic charges me now, and I strike again and again, until he blocks my punch with his forearm. He sweeps his elbow back, bringing it down onto my shoulder, nearly sending me to the ground. Dimly, the pain registers, but my magic is still pounding through me, dulling the agony.
I rush for him again.
Furious, we collide in a maelstrom of blows—hitting, blocking, fists slamming with bone-shaking force. It’s not just violence, it’s a revelation. We strip off until we are the real, primal Fey beneath the masks.
There’s a brutal rhythm in the way we tear into each other, testing each other. It’s easier this way. I’ll take the sharp physical pain over the unbearable conversation we were just having.
We meet punch for punch, a whirlwind of wild destruction. And it’s still safer than what we might say if we stopped.
My breath comes in ragged gasps, and his skin glows with the exertion, but neither of us is slowing.
Then, with a terrifying force, he slams me back. The air rips from my lungs as my spine meets a tree trunk. Pain reverberates up through my skull.
His eyes darken as he pins me to the trunk. Something flickers within those shadowed depths, an emotion I can finally read after all these months. I haven’t done much to hurt his body, but I’ve cut him deeply all the same.
A lock of his dark hair brushes his cheekbones, and pain burns in his eyes. In fact, for a split second, he looks utterly crushed . Ruined. And that wrecks me, carves me up. I feel like my heart is open to the elements, laid out for the crows to pluck.
What I want right now is a magic that can take me back in time to fix all this. I want to change it all. But that’s not a magic I possess.
So, right now, I’m drowning in regret. Gods, what did I think would happen? Did I think this could possibly end in anything except blood and heartbreak?
“I’ll go back to Camelot,” I say desperately.
His eyes narrow. “You were so fragile before. The wheezing breaths, the slow movements. But that was a role you were playing, too, because you’re not fragile anymore. You’re powerful.” His head tilts. “Layers and layers of lies.”
“I can explain my strength.”
His expression shifts, a mocking smile spreading across his lips. “But what good is talk when truth for you is as substantial as ashes in the wind?”
My heart hammers. I push away from him and try to run, but he grabs my arm.
Thunder booms in the sky, drowning out my words, and a flock of crows dart from the branches, cawing. It feels like an orchestra of chaos all around me. A symphony of heartbreak.
As I try to run from him again, he grabs me by the shoulders, shoving me back into the tree. The wind rushes out of my lungs. Overhead, lightning pierces the sky, illuminating his beautiful face.
Pain shows from the shadowed depths of his eyes. It’s the kind of thing he should put into words, but he never will. That’s not his style.
When I look at him, it feels far worse than his anger.
And in the next heartbeat, he’s mastered control of his expression, his gaze shuttering.
I know what that expression means now, too. An iron-studded door slamming shut, bolts locking in place. I won’t be getting back in again any time soon.
“And where do you think you’re going?” he asks quietly.
I breathe hard.
There are still more secrets to reveal, aren’t there? And suddenly, I want to let them all out.
Inside my body, the power of the three surges. Their magic floods me like an ancient river. Morgan and Nimu?’s melodious voices whisper in my thoughts. We speak in the voice of lakes, dark and deep, far below the surface where fire forges steel .
A queen’s power roars to life inside me. Take the crown that belongs to us. Take what’s yours.
Imbued with their magic, I shove him hard.
He staggers back, a sharp smile on his face. “Do you know what, wife ? It’s been far too long since anyone has truly challenged me. I think I was starting to miss it.”
Magic rushes into me from the earth, and I charge at him, but this time, he’s ready and moves for me with a shocking speed.
He grabs my wrist, twisting my arm sharply behind my back, then shoves my chest against the tree. Every nerve in my body is alight. My face presses against the rough bark, and I catch my breath.
Leaning close, he whispers, his breath warming the side of my face. “You’ve been playing me all along, little liar. And here I thought you needed to be saved…”
“Blocking you out of my head kept me weak,” I say. “But now I’m free.”
I slam my head back into his face, causing him to lose his grip. I spin around and kick him high in the chest, my foot colliding with what feels like pure rock. Even worse, he manages to catch my foot on the way down. With a dark smile, he twists my leg and flips me onto my stomach. I hit the ground hard, grunting from the pain.
I gasp sharply for breath. Rolling over, I kick him hard in the thigh, and he winces. Swift as lightning, he’s on top of me now, his hand around my throat. Not squeezing. Just holding me in place. Dominating. Owning me.
Curiosity flickers in his eyes, a flare of copper in the darkness. “What are you, exactly? How did a demi-Fey become this strong?”
Morgan’s power streams into me again from the earth. Dark-eyed usurper…you need to know your place. You’re not here to be king. You’re here to be consort.
“Do you really want to know who I am?” My words cut through clenched teeth, echoes of ladies long gone laced in my voice. “I’m the real heir to the fucking Fey throne. It’s not yours. It’s mine. I’m the Lady of the Lake. I’m the heir of Morgan.”
I drive my elbow into his forearm, breaking his grip on my throat as his hand hits the earth beside me. Grabbing a fistful of his hair, I thrust my hips upward sharply, flipping him off me and onto the ground.
Suddenly, I’m straddling him, breathless, and I slam my fist into his face again, pain bleeding into my knuckles as I strike his cheek.
I draw back to hit him again, but this time, he’s not taking any more. His fingers lock around my wrist, his grip unyielding, brutal. No restraint now. He’s giving me everything he has.
Blood drips from his beautiful lips.
“You’re the heir to Morgan?” A dark, challenging smile. “Please don’t tell me you’re my sister. I can’t even begin to contemplate the incestuous depths of depravity my mind has reached if that’s the case.”
His free hand slides slowly up my back, his caress so sensual and at odds with the brutality of our fight that I’m thrown off guard. His touch leaves a trail of heat in its wake. Over the silky material, his hand sears me.
I lean in closer. I shouldn’t want this. I shouldn’t want him. Especially not now .
His fingers tighten in my hair, pulling me closer. “If you are my sister, the things I have imagined doing to you, Nia, would need to be burned from my brain.”
A deep breath. A heartbeat. My lips are only inches from his, and his muscled body lies caged beneath me.
“I’m not your sister, nor your aunt,” I whisper, “but I am your queen.”
“That,” he whispers, “might just be the sexiest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”
The corner of his mouth curves upward, and he cups the side of my face. He brushes his thumb over my lower lip, and for a moment, I’m sure he’s going to kiss me or kill me. Both, maybe.
This time, he yanks my hair, flipping me onto my back. My head slams painfully on the ground. I struggle, but the power is draining quickly from my body. He twists my arm behind me again. Before I can fully react, I’m face down on the muddy snow. My body is turning to ice as the snow soaks through the thin layer of silk, and my teeth chatter wildly.
“But as sexy as you are, I’m afraid I don’t trust a fucking thing you say,” he murmurs.
He wrenches my arms painfully behind my back until my shoulders ache. And as much as that hurts, it’s the finality of his voice that kills me.
There is no coming back from this. I thought, somehow, this would end with us on the same side.
How wrong I was.
Somewhere in the distance, Tarasque’s cry rends the air, and my heart skips a beat.
Talan is tying up my wrists with vines.
Time’s up.
“Are you tying me up to burn me?” My voice stays steady, but barely. I want to sound strong. I want the regal bravado of Queen Morgan, but she’s gone now, and regret coats my tongue like blood.
From the corner of my eye, I see Tarasque landing in the forest, her scales shimmering under the sun. Talan yanks me upright by my bound arms, my entire body trembling. Not just from the cold, but the sheer devastation of this moment.
My thoughts have gone muddled and dull, and a white noise hisses in my skull. I can’t think clearly because of the utter, mind-bending panic exploding in my head.
Is he going to burn me?
It’s the punishment for traitors. Everyone knows that.
“I’ve changed my mind about you since I first came here,” I whisper, my throat raw. It’s a desperate, last-minute plea, and the words come tumbling out like I can outrun his judgment. “Yes, I came here to kill you. That was my role. But you’re not who I thought you were when I first came to Brocéliande.”
“ Not who I thought you were ,” he says with a razor-edged coolness. “Well, little telepath…that makes two of us.”
I flinch. “You were different when I got to know you. You’re the reason I went rogue, especially after I went into your dreams, Talan, and saw the real you. I saw how you took the blame for all those things you never did. You’ll see, when you get back, that Nivene already returned to Avalon Tower at their command. I was supposed to go, too. I didn’t.”
There’s a flicker of warmth in his eyes like a lit match almost catching, but then it’s gone again. Did I imagine it?
He drags me toward the dragon. As we get closer, she rears her head in the cold winter sunlight, her metallic eyes gleaming.
Storm clouds churn overhead. Lightning streaks across the sky, and the rain comes fast and cold, drumming over my skin.
I shiver, hollowed out. Utterly broken. All that ancient power has now drained from my body, and I’m left feeling empty.
Tarasque lifts her head and lets out a low growl that rumbles through my bones.
I stare up at her, and the fear that takes hold of me isn’t swift or sharp. It’s slow, creeping, like webs of frost spreading over glass.
The clock has stopped ticking. The hour has come. And I’m all out of time.