Chapter 24
Chapter Twenty-Four
ANU
T he atmosphere shifted the instant the Fire King and his Queen stepped foot in Anu.
It wasn’t hard to detect. Something in Merick’s mother’s blood tied her uniquely to this realm. She felt a protectiveness over it. As such, she, same as Alaric and Stefen, could note when other supernaturals entered.
In particular, those with fire in their origin story. Most specifically, Ashdon LaGoryen.
The Fire King’s presence here was as triggering as an erupting volcano.
His lovely mate, not so much. Merick knew it was due to Kielyn’s dual elements. The water in her nature called to and calmed the realm born of water.
“They’re here,” Merick confirmed, but she didn’t look up from the prayer pool’s glassy surface.
She was too close to making the final connection. Here, deep in the belly of the palace, beneath the throne room, at the very core of the mountain, was a spring. A circular pool in the center of a cave where brightly colored koi swam beneath the glassy surface, weaving in and around water lilies and lotus, their brightly colored blooms bursting from deep green pads.
Candles lined the pool’s edge. Forever burning, their wax never dripped. This was the Temple. For solace and worship, dedicated to gods long gone.
And the source of Merick’s enlightenment over the past twenty-four hours.
Her three vigilant companions didn’t budge from their self-appointed positions along the cave walls. They had stayed down here, refusing to leave, bearing witness to her journey.
Alaric would occasionally drift closer, whenever Merick went deeper into her meditations. His energy flowed through with a calming pull–cautious, prepared to yank her back into this world at a moment’s notice.
Teakin and Stefen kept their distance. The latter checked in on her through their mated bond. Sometimes with concern, whenever she drifted too far away. Most of the time with lewd suggestions. Things he’d rather be doing in the pool.
Her father, though… Lack of concern didn’t make Teakin keep his distance from the water’s edge. His was a different type of fear. A visceral concern his unworthiness might corrupt her experience. Might influence whatever powers spoke to her, might cause them to turn away.
It broke her heart, the impossible standards to which he held himself. So much so that she sent a special prayer into the placid water. One to bring him peace. Relief from the past that haunted him still.
Merick focused again on the one white fish larger than all the rest gliding gracefully under the water. Its long, iridescent fins weaved like plumes of feathers, gently stirring currents in its wake. Its scales held a vibrant sheen, catching light where there was none, as if the moon lit it from within. She let it be her guide .
Watching the koi’s tranquil movements, Merick picked apart the silent vibrations, wavelengths separating the joints and bones of this realm from the lifeblood of the universe.
Second by second, she sank further into history. Releasing her body from its current form, she free-fell through time, past these sacred waters, over memories and stories, maps and manuscripts, art and actions. Further and further, she plummeted, feeling her way by senses long forgotten. The taste of soil, the drag of air, the feel of hands once familiar. She left behind the choreography of this life. Left all that she loved, all that she was, until she remembered.
Merick’s eyes snapped open.
“What is it?” Alaric stood an arm’s reach away.
Teakin and Stefen moved off the wall like matching bookends of concern.
“She’s not the only one,” her mate answered, having seen the vision down their bond, through Merick’s eyes.
“There’s another?” Alaric asked, just as Ash and Kielyn took the final step into the cavernous space. “Who?”
“There are two others walking the realms.” Merick turned from the pool. “Direct scions of the gods.” She smiled at the Fire Queen. “I will need your help, Kielyn, discerning who they are.”
Ash immediately tensed beside his mate. Stefen’s attention went straight to his brother. Rightfully so. Alaric looked ready to toss Kielyn into the pool himself, if it meant getting answers quicker.
Thankfully, for everyone–not excluding the mountain they were underneath–Kielyn inclined her head and said, “Whatever you need.”
Merick would have sworn the universe sighed in relief. There would be no battle between the two stubborn kings. Not today, anyway. Not over this issue.
“There’s something else,” Merick continued. “I think I know what the fifth realm is.”
They all stared at her .
“What it is ?” Teakin said.
She nodded. “I was able to trace my past lives back through time and space. Not in a way of remembering each experience,” she quickly added. “More so…like I was passing through different hemispheres, unknown planets, parallel worlds. Pockets of total darkness and vast expanses of blinding light.”
She tried to put it into words. “The fifth realm isn’t a physical space.” How to describe that which had no definition? “It is what we expected based on the ancient text. A place of souls. Both new and old. Good and evil.”
“How do we get there?” Alaric jumped straight to the point.
“If we locate the other two scions,” Merick said. “I think the three of us can unlock the door.”
Stefen looked hesitantly at her. “A door to a space that has no place?”
Merick replied, “The fifth realm is an eclipse.”
“I don’t understand,” Ash interjected. “It can only be accessed during an eclipse? Similar to how we were able to lock down Anu before the battle with Gerra? Sealing off passage between the realms?”
Merick looked at him. She looked at each of them. “The fifth realm is the eclipse.”
Ventus
“ I s my horse okay?” Eirik asked, when a door opened behind him.
The initial conversation with his captor had been too brief, his head too foggy to inquire then. But that was hours ago. So many he had stopped keeping track of time by the morphing colors of light splaying over the splintered floor and crumbling walls.
Night now oozed in, saturating the room in muted grays. At some point he had fallen into a deep sleep. Awaking with a jerk, minutes, hours, or days later. Eirik wasn’t sure.
All he knew for certain was his body was on the verge of betraying him. Between whatever magic held his powers in check and his lack of nourishment, he was close to a complete burnout.
“Unlike your sovereign, we do not kill the innocent,” the voice from earlier answered, the sound of her near-silent tread coming closer. “Your horse is well attended to.”
“His name’s Alydar. He’s picky about his grain, and he doesn’t get along well with other horses.” Eirik turned his head to the left. “I don’t know how he is with mythical winged ones.”
She stepped into the light of the window, the night revealing only what it wanted to; the silhouette of her body and that untamed hair. “He’s adjusting to them.”
“Them? You have more than one? In these ruins?”
“You ask every question like… What’s the Earthy definition?” It wasn’t quite a question. “An attorney,” she concluded.
“You find that disappointing?”
“I find it disingenuous and unproductive. This trapping of answers. Might as well try to cage smoke.”
He had no decent rebuttal. He’d never excelled at cunning. The intelligence gymnastics required for it were much more up Bastian’s alley. The sudden idea of this female interrogating his brother made him crack a smile. Gods, she would hate him.
“You may ask your questions, Eirik LaGoryen, just don’t sneak about them,” she said. “We know who you are. And you know more about us than you should. But here we are, our paths intersected.” A candle sparked to life. “There are only two options for this outcome. Your curiosity won’t alter either.”
“Two options.” He looked at the glass of water she had left on the table after their initial meeting. “Going to take a wild guess that one of them involves me dying.”
“It does.” She refilled the glass and brought it to his lips.
He drank it down, then asked, “My other option? ”
“Still being considered.” She sat the glass back on the table. “Now, you require blood. Correct?”
Eirik nodded weakly. “I have four bottles in Alydar’s saddle bag.”
She looked toward the door as footsteps approached. “Those have been poured out.”
“Why?” Surprisingly, the question contained none of the concern he felt.
She didn’t bat an eyelash as she replied, “It’s poison.”
Eirik barked out a laugh. “It is synthetic. I’ve been living off it for the last year. It was created so that my brother and I could stay–”
“Easier to control,” another female said from the doorway.
Eirik craned his head. The newcomer approached the bed. “The blood contains aconite and blackthorn,” she continued. “Aconite works only on vampires. To water down your strengths. Something you may have noticed if you ever tried to use your full speed in this realm. I believe you call it ‘flashing’. And the blackthorn will dull your instincts. Same as it does ours.”
What in the gods’ names was she trying to spin? Of course, he could flash. He’d done it…
The thought gave him pause. When was the last time he had tried? Use of his powers was forbidden in Windsong. Unless the royal family was under attack, or he was given orders to. Neither scenario had occurred in the last year. And when he was out of the city with the Warborn…
He hadn’t ever tried using his full speed. He’d been too afraid of giving himself away to potential rebels and blowing his cover. Up until his encounter on the crater, he hadn’t needed to.
The mystery female stepped around the bed. She was just as striking as the redhead, only taller, curvier, with deep olive skin, large brown eyes and long, pitch-black hair she wore in a thick braid down her back. She carried herself with a quiet, self-possessed sort of strength, as she looked down at him, waiting.
Eirik looked between the two of them, processing, trying to pull apart possible falsehoods from fact. He was too tired, his body’s reservoirs too drained. “Forgive me,” he managed. “I fear I am going to pass out soon.”
“You need nourishment,” the dark-haired fae concluded.
“Any animal will do in the short term,” he said. “That is, if you intend to keep me alive.”
“I vote no.” The redhead crossed her arms.
“For now, Your Highness.” The other female’s lips curled upward. “And, I think we can do better than a rabbit or squirrel.” She began rolling up the sleeve of her white tunic. “You can drink from me.”
His gaze went straight to the perfect blue vein running the length of her forearm. He hadn’t fed on a human in over a year. Hadn’t even considered breaking the rules of his agreement here. But he’d never been this dangerously close to a blackout.
“I swore an oath,” he muttered, even as his fangs stretched his gums.
The redhead snorted. “That’s ironic, Princeling. Considering the court you swore that oath to didn’t trust you as far as they could throw you.”
The olive-skinned beauty sat down on the edge of the bed. “She has a point. They have been drugging you, inhibiting your true nature and crippling your powers.” She extended her arm. “Is it a valid oath if it was made under deception?”
He hesitated, his body at all-out war with his mind. “I don’t even know if I can feed from you. Your blood might be…”
“Drugged?” the redhead challenged. “Unlike the court you serve –we have ethics.”
Eirik scoffed, “Says the one with a lock on my powers.” He tugged at the chains binding his wrists. “More than these and a lack of food are weakening my strength.” His accusatory gaze darted between them. “Is it that pungent poultice that’s rendering me helpless?”
The curly-haired fae bristled. “That’s withdrawals, you simpleton. From the shit blood you’ve been consuming.”
“What she means…” The other female shot her accomplice a look. “Is that, with any drug the body grows accustom to, there are ne gative side effects when weening off of it.” A tender smile. “The herbs were for healing the wound to your head. We have used no spells on you. The shackles, and your body’s withdrawals from the synthesized blood, are the only thing hindering you.”
The redhead continued to drill holes in him with her stabbing glare. The less intense one added, “My blood has not been compromised, Your Highness.” There was no judgment or offense in her even tone. Just sincerity. “I give you my word.”
He looked her in the eyes. “As queen?”
She held his questioning gaze, unflinching. “As queen.”
“Can I just get him a godsdamned squirrel?” the redhead exclaimed.
“You’ll have to forgive her.” The queen smiled. “She’s still mad that you drew a sword on her mare.”
“And my ring?” Eirik pushed. “I need it back.”
“In due time.” She lifted her arm to his mouth. “It’s in a safe place.”
He could smell her blood now, the metallic scent mixing with her unique scent of sandalwood and jasmine. He could feel the pull of it, coaxing him closer.
He bent his head, lips hovering just over the prickled flesh of her wrist. He had never fed with an audience before. He had never drunk from fae. Especially not from a queen.
The list of nevers only heighten his desire, calling forth the vampire aspect of his nature. He wrapped his jaw around her slender wrist. And sunk in his teeth.
The sharp intake of her breath was the last thing he heard.
Like a cresting wave, it hit him. He had enough time to prepare for the impact before it crashed over the top of his senses. Then he was rushing headlong into oblivion, his basic need for survival obliterating any further objections. He drew on the vein, aware of every pore in his body as it gained strength from her sacrifice.
As with any host, glimpses of their memories sped past, like pages flipping in a book. The queen’s were no different in that regard, but the speed was blindingly fast. Too fleeting to get any real idea of her life.
Another drag from her vein, and his need quieted, hunger abating. The dizzying maze of images slowed, the fragments of shapes becoming clearer, and the structure of time revealed its secrets.
A child begging, screaming, pawing to be freed, held back by a fae wearing Windsong colors. The gaze Eirik was seeing through shifted. To crudely erected scaffolding in a village center.
A crowd had gathered, many pleading with the soldiers as a shirtless male was dragged onto the scaffolding and forced to kneel. His back to the spectators, the civilian’s arms were stretched away from his sides and tied to poles, exposing his bare back. The child continued to wail.
A female was shouting now, shoving her way toward the scaffolding. Two commoners stepped in front of her, forcing her back, blocking her view…protecting her.
Not commoners. They were rebels. Eirik could tell by the pulse of recognition in the queen’s memory.
The gaze returned to the scene unfolding on the scaffolding. The man’s back lay carved open, his ribs cut away from his spine. Someone nearby vomited. Eirik smelled the contents as if he were there.
The soldiers delighted in their mutilation. The victim’s screams had stopped, his head bent forward, hanging to his chest. His lungs still fluttered inside the exposed cavity. Not for long. One of the soldiers reached inside the gaping wound with both hands and yanked out the organs.
The vision morphed, taking Eirik further back to another point in time.
Shell-like veins of precious ore sparkled on polished walls as they raced past. Past the giant stone columns, sprung up from depthless saffron, cyan, and azure tinged slate. Panicked. Eirik could feel the queen’s heart beating wildly in the memory’s chest .
An explosion above rocked the massive structure. The child in front of the queen went down, bracelet shattering against the slate, jewels tinging off the cold floor. Another girl with fiery-red ringlets grabbed her by the hand and hoisted her up. A boy joined them, urging them to follow him.
They ran. Fled as the ceiling crumbled around them and a boulder landed nearby, obliterating a wishing fountain, marble shrapnel detonating in all directions. Under siege.
They were under attack.
A servant darted out in front of them, covered in flour and blood, her neck sliced open from ear to ear. She collapsed in a heap, blood splashing from the gaping hole.
A soldier, with the lion crest of Hornhall stamped proudly in the center of his breastplate, stepped over the servant’s prone body and shouted, “I found them!”
He lurched for the closest child. The boy skittered out of reach and jumped to the opposite side of the narrowing hall, leading the solider away from the girls. “Go!” the child ordered.
The girls took off again. More cannon fire rained down, shattering stain glass windows and leveling whole walls.
“The stables,” the redheaded girl yelled, turning down a spiraling staircase. “We have to get in the air.”
They veered into an intersecting passageway and ascended to the castle’s battlement wall. The other girl glanced back as she ran, her long braids whipping around her pale face. “Hurry,” she urged the queen.
They just had to make it to the other side…
Soldiers burst forth from a stairwell on the far side of the wall.
Windsong soldiers.
The girls screeched to a stop, then doubled back. Hornhall males pouring onto the wall blocked their way. They were trapped.
The red-haired child rushed to the edge. When she looked back at the other two girls, resolution burned in her eyes. She drew a dagger from under her skirt and said, “You have to jump.”
“I will not leave you alone,” the girl with the braids exclaimed .
“For the crown we serve, the wings that carry us.” Her friend stared at her with willful determination. “And the magic in our blood.”
“For the crown, the wings, and the blood,” the queen’s small voice echoed the motto.
The pounding of feet and clanging of armor rang out at either end of the battlement wall. The girls looked at each other one last time, courage and sacrifice coursing between them–an unseverable link. They nodded in unison.
Right as a shadow swept over the wall and landed in the middle, cracking stone beneath its razor-sharp hooves.
The pegasus snorted, eyes blazing red, as it tucked its massive black wings into its sides. The boy sat atop the mighty beast, tunic torn, face bloodied, but looking down at them with unfaltering confidence.
Soldiers shouted, then arrows sang across bowstrings as they were drawn back.
The boy extended his arm. “Come on!”
The queen pushed forward the girl with the braids. She took his hand and scrambled up. The queen quickly climbed up behind her.
The fae warriors raced toward them, weapons out, magic stirring. The boy frantically reached for the redheaded girl.
She took his hand and swung up in front of him, yelling to the steed, “Volare!”
Pounding its great wings, the animal took flight. The force of its departure was so great, the closest fae were knocked back and sent flailing into the soldiers behind them. Arrows loosed. One grazed the ear of the queen as they rose higher. Eirik could feel the sting.
As real as the sensation washing over him in the present. He needed to release her wrist. He was dangerously close to taking too much from her.
Higher and higher the pegasus flew. He lost the ability to see the ground and the queen’s memories were cut off from him. He had to let go.
Now!
With enough effort to knock over an elephant, Eirik withdrew his fangs and snapped back his head.
The red-haired warrior had her sword at the ready. A look that bordered on hope colored her eyes. And the queen…
His gaze met hers. Her rich skin-tone had dropped a shade, but she was fine. She smiled faintly at him and said, “Welcome to Arrowren, Prince Eirik.”