Chapter 48 Folly
FOLLY
KINGFISHER (Khydan Graystar Finvarra)
THE ENDLESS DARK shattered.
As it did, the lump of ice in my chest thawed and exploded like a newly formed star taking its place among the celestial sphere. Time contracted, and as I opened my eyes, the wood surrounding me came into brilliant focus.
Many new pieces of information took root in my mind at once.
I had been inside the shadow gate.
I’d heard Belikon’s voice. I’d registered his command to come to him . . . and I’d been powerless to refuse. Things were blurry after that.
I knew precisely where I was now, though, and my mate’s cry was still ringing in my ears like a desperate call to arms.
Rise, Khydan Graystar Finvarra, in honor of the name you were given at birth! Rise up and fight!
The name resonated in my chest, triggering something fundamental, deep within the foundations of my soul. I knew the name. Knew it like I knew the sky was blue and which way was up. It was a part of me—had always been a part of me—and now it had settled on me like a perfectly tailored cloak.
The command that came along with my name set my soul alight, but it was darkness and vengeance that poured out of me as I obeyed it.
My magic thrummed, soaring up from the well of power faster than it ever had before.
Glittering and furious, it slammed out of me in every direction, obliterating the cage that held me.
Not a cage. An oubliette.
Shards of decaying wood fired through the air like shrapnel. The air filled with smoke . . .
. . . and when it cleared, the first thing to emerge from the destruction was my mate. Was I really seeing this? She’d come for me? By herself?
Her hair was wild, her blue eyes wide as saucers, full of defiance and shock.
Her mouth and jaw were painted red with blood.
The front of her fighting leathers, too.
When she saw my growing panic, she shook her head, running to close the last few feet between us.
“It’s okay. It’s nothing. I’m fine. Belikon—”
Oh, I’d already seen him.
The bastard was kneeling in the churned-up snow with not one but two god swords spearing him through the chest. They weren’t enough to kill him, but the iron in Nimerelle was leaching his power.
That alone was keeping him on his knees.
He was dressed as if for a great celebration.
His thick, chocolate-brown ermine cloak was of the highest quality, though obviously ruined now thanks to the god swords.
Atop his head, he wore an elaborate crown I hadn’t seen before, far more ostentatious than the humble winter laurel he had stolen from Rurik Daianthus.
Blood trickled from his mouth and down his narrow chin.
He laughed when he saw me stalking toward him through the snow.
“If you want your sword back, you’re going to have to pull it out of me. And trust me when I say you don’t want to do that.”
I kicked him square in the face as hard as I could, and the king sprawled on his ass in the snow. The obnoxious jeweled crown fell from his brow and went rolling off into the wood.
“I’ve been waiting a long time to do that.” My voice was raw. I had screamed plenty in the hellish landscape the dryad had created for me, and it felt like I’d done all that screaming out loud.
The king lay on his side, unable to roll onto his back thanks to the swords impaling him. I had questions about how Nimerelle had become wedged between the asshole’s ribs, but I was a patient male. They could wait.
“My guards are posted throughout this wood. You’ll never get past them all,” Belikon said.
I cocked my head, considering him. “Won’t we?”
Another burst of laughter spluttered out of the king. He sighed, lying back in the snow. “You know,” he said, squinting up at the sky, “you have done your mate a woeful disservice. She knows nothing of how this realm works. Nothing of our ways. Nothing of the rules that govern our existence here.”
I prowled toward him, wondering where I should hurt him first. “Is that so?”
A deep, rattling cough seized the king. For a moment, he couldn’t breathe.
When he’d recovered again, he spoke. “She came here and used your true name to free you. And it worked. But it’s a hollow victory,” he said, emphasizing the words as if I were stupid.
“She used your true name . . . in front of me. She armed me with the most powerful tool I could have hoped for. You’re fucked, Kingfisher.
Or should I say Khydan? Let us see if I recall it correctly, shall I?
Khydan Graystar Finvarra, I command you to draw this sword from my chest and use it to kill your pretty little mate! ”
The air around me shivered. His will crashed down on me, bringing me forward, urging my hand to reach for Nimerelle.
I grabbed the blade. I drew it out of him.
I carried it over to where Saeris stood, bloodied and swaying on her feet, and I lifted it, aiming the point of the smoking black blade at my mate’s throat.
Now that he was free of Nimerelle, Belikon was slowly getting back to his feet. “Do it! I’ve had enough of this charade!” he barked.
Looking at my mate, I fixed her with a sorrowful smile. “I’m so sorry, Osha.”
She didn’t blink. Didn’t move. She returned my sad smile with one of her own. “It’s okay. None of this is your fault.”
I swung the blade, spinning at the same time, and plunged it back into Belikon’s chest. I drove the sword through him with both hands, slamming Nimerelle down so hard that she went straight through the sorry excuse for a male, pushing him back down to his knees and pinning him to the frozen ground.
“But—what—I—command—commanded—” Belikon insisted, panting out his words.
It was Saeris who stepped forward to break the news.
“You see this?” she said, holding out her right hand so that he could see the back of it.
The simple interlocking rune she traced with her left index finger didn’t glow, but Belikon’s face turned the color of ash when he saw it.
“A rune for undoing. For breaking.” She cut him with a bloodletting smile.
“Did you really think I would be stupid enough to speak my mate’s true name in front of you without protecting him first?
You’re out of your addled fucking mind. I couldn’t command the oath he spoke to you and render it moot.
But with this, I could undo it. And after I’d spoken his name and told him to be free, what do you think I did then, Belikon? ”
“His name. You—you—”
She nodded. “Yes. I undid the magic that binds it. No one can use it against him now. No one will ever control him again.”
“You poor . . . deluded thing.” The king bared bloodstained teeth. “You are simple if you believe that. So long as . . . you or your friends exist, there will always be leverage to control him.”
Pay him no heed, Osha. He’ll say whatever he can to get under your skin. Let’s get out of here before those other guards show up.
I knew better than to hang around. We’d gotten lucky.
I hadn’t been permanently trapped inside the dryad, and that was something to be seriously grateful for.
Once you went in, you normally didn’t come out again.
Saeris flared her nostrils, her hatred pouring out of every pore as she slowly shoved away from the prone king.
She grabbed Solace’s hilt and began to draw her sword from the king’s back—and a flurry of motion to our right came out of nowhere.
Black, swirling robes. A rough-edged dagger slicing downward toward Saeris’s neck.
And then white fur and snarling teeth, and eyes the color of polished jet.
Orious had been a second away from slitting Saeris’s throat . . . but then there was Onyx. The little fox raced out of the shadows and launched himself at the seneschal’s face. He snarled and scratched, sinking his teeth into the thin male’s jaw and cheek.
“Demon dog!” the seneschal growled. He clawed at Onyx’s fur, trying to get a hold of it. “I thought you were dead!”
“Onyx, no!” Saeris was gone before I could stop her.
She left Solace buried in Belikon’s chest. She had the dagger I’d given her weeks ago—it was in her hand by the time she reached the male, who was cursing fitfully as he tried to shake off the fox.
Canines sharp as needles sank into Orious’s wrist. The male let out a howl of pain . . .
The fox had saved Saeris. He had already done enough.
Saeris sank the dagger I’d gifted her into Orious’s side, burying the Fae steel deep.
I sent out tendrils of smoke at the same time, lashing the piece of shit around his ankles.
My magic swirled around his torso, about to draw tight and crush his ribs, when the seneschal pivoted, snarling like a rabid beast, and slashed out at Saeris again.
The weapon—a null blade, carved an arc through the air, its wicked edge seeking flesh.
And it found it. It just didn’t belong to Saeris.
Onyx let out an agonized yelp, dropping to the ground, and Orious let out a victorious whoop.
The fox had darted in front of the blade, ruining his opportunity to end Saeris, but from the gleeful grin on his face, the seneschal didn’t care.
He wobbled, staggering sideways, mad laughter boiling out of him.
“At last!” he hissed. “I got youulllcchh—” Saeris’s response was instant and ruthless.
She buried her face in the seneschal’s neck, and she ripped out his fucking throat.
Blood and viscera sprayed the snow. My magic struck the male a second later.
In, I ordered. Destroy.
My shadows went hunting. I’d never commanded my magic with a mind to cause pain, but I sure as hell did now. Smoke and shadow tore down the male’s mangled throat, eviscerating him from the inside out. He died in agony, robbed of the ability to scream.