Chapter 25
AVELINE
The crisp air is a welcome shock to my system, nipping at my cheeks. It cools the lingering heat of my morning temper.
Sandwich walks beside me, his giant frame and horse smell comforting.
His heavy hooves crunch over fallen leaves and frost-bitten earth. Sandwich’s back hoof’s healed nicely. Watching him plod along is even more comforting than I suspected it would be.
“I’m glad you have a soft place to land now, old boy,” I tell him. He nods his great golden head as he stretches his neck to crop at the final patches of clover hiding near the stone wall.
This part of the castle grounds is breathtaking.
The outer courtyard bleeds into a forgotten terrace where the very last bloom of the winter roses clings stubbornly to the iron trellises. They are a pale, fragile white, dusted with a fine layer of morning frost, defying the coming winter just as I’ve been trying to defy my own fate.
I run a hand down Sandwich’s thick neck, but my thoughts are miles away.
They’ve drifted right back to Malakai.
To my nightmare…. And then to the woods.
To the terrifying, exhilarating kiss against the oak tree.
My lips tingle at the memory, a spark flaring in my chest from just thinking about the hunger in his touch. And then there was this morning—waking up completely entangled in him, feeling safe.
Rested.
Protected… and cherished.
How bad would it truly be if I just... went ahead and married him?
The thought slides into my mind, unbidden. I stop walking, my fingers tangling in Sandwich’s white mane.
If I strip away my stubborn pride… the fear that’s driven me away from expectations my whole life… what am I actually fighting?
Malakai doesn’t treat me like property.
He’s heavy handed, sure, but has never once forced me. He listens to me. Takes care of me.
My throat gets tight.
He looks at me with a mixture of fierce desire and possessiveness that makes my pulse hammer in my neck. Compared to the petty lords I grew up tolerating, an ancient Shadow King with a soft heart and a rugged laugh is starting to look like… a miracle.
A very good-looking miracle.
With strong shoulders.
And calloused hands.
And a hard, warm body…
"If you sigh any louder, you are going to blow the remaining petals off these roses," a sharp, familiar voice croaks from above.
I nearly screech as Ter launches himself from a stone gargoyle and lands awkwardly atop Sandwich’s head. If the horse cares, he doesn’t show it, placidly walking alongside me like he’s always had a raven for a hat.
The raven cocks his head, watching me with one unimpressed black eye.
"I am not sighing," I tell him primly, adjusting the collar of my blue-green cloak. "I am thinking."
"You are mooning," Ter corrects, clicking his beak in annoyance. "The Shadow King has been out of your sight for less than an hour, and already you are standing in the weeds looking like a sad fishwife.”
“A fishwife?” I ask, amused.
“Yes, and not a very good one at that, seeing as how you have no fish.”
“Do you know what a fishwife is?” I ask Ter, narrowing my eyes up at him. Sandwich flicks his ears, and Ter ruffles his feathers. “I’m not sure they—”
“We have work to do, Aveline,” Ter interrupts. “The Shadow King’s realm’s defenses are still weak, and your little display at breakfast did not magically mend anything but your pride."
I roll my eyes, though the reminder of this morning makes me smirk.
"Cern and Valen needed to be taught a lesson. In fact, I’m fairly sure they should be taught a few more." I pat Sandwich for good measure.
"And they are currently upstairs repairing a heavy oak door with their bare hands because they are terrified of you," Ter mutters, shuffling his wings.
"But maybe hold onto that idea. We need to find that kernel of power again. Raise your hand and pretend like you’re going to smite the god of wild things. "
I let out a heavy breath, stepping away from Sandwhich. I face the frozen rosebushes, planting my boots firmly on the stone. I close my eyes, trying to reach deep inside myself.
I search for that strange place inside me, where that golden magic hides.
"Don’t force it," Ter guides, his tone surprisingly focused. "Let it flow. Feel it."
I bite back a bitchy response and remember how I summoned it last time.
How Malakai’s hands were on me, his chest pressed against my back.
The way it made me feel.
I exhale slowly.
A hot tingle sparks at the base of my neck, rushing down my arm. When I open my eyes, a brilliant, steady sphere of orange-gold light hovers above my open palm. The glow gilds the white petals, the frost melting away into tiny, shimmering droplets of water under the heat.
I did that.
“I did it,” I say on a breath, almost too afraid to move. I don’t want it to pop; I’m not ready to let it go.
"Excellent," Ter squawks, flapping his wings once. Sandwich shakes his head in protest, and Ter hops down to the horse’s shoulders. "Now, hold the shape. Expand it."
I focus on the warmth, pushing the heat further, trying to make it. For a second, the gold light expands.
I suck in a breath, watching it with awe, wondering what my mother would think of me now.
She’d think I was making this up. She’d say it wasn’t ladylike.
The light flickers wildly, spitting jagged orange sparks into the grass before dying out completely with a pathetic hiss.
"You're overthinking again," Ter scolds, clicking his beak. "You cannot hold the power if your mind is jumping around.”
"It's difficult to concentrate when my entire life has been upended!" I snap, my palms stinging as the leftover energy dissipates.
It’s not untrue, but it’s also not… a bad thing.
Was I happy in Stormspire?
Before Ter can launch into another critique, before I can puzzle my way through my own question, everything changes.
Sandwich lets out a low, terrified whinny, his nostrils flaring as he violently stamps his front hooves, backing away from the trellises so fast his lead pulls taut in my hand.
The cheerful sunshine vanishes.
A sudden, suffocating darkness that has absolutely nothing to do with Malakai’s velvet shadows swallows the world around us.
The temperature plummets, and my breath plumes into a white cloud in front of my face.
Beside me, the pale white roses violently wither, turning pitch black before rotting into dust. The glossy green leaves wilt, covered in a layer of purple frost that smells wrong.
"Aveline," Ter whispers. "Get behind the horse. Now."
The air in front of us warps, rippling before tearing open.
A sickly violet light pours from the fissure.
I draw my cloak around myself, trying to move but frozen to the spot.
From the center of the crack, a figure steps onto the grounds.
My stomach twists with fear, and heat begins to crackle down my spine.
Devastatingly beautiful, the woman stares at me, imperious. There’s no joy in her features, rather, she seems carved from ice by someone who knew what beauty was but left out the warmth of it.
Lilac skin sets off liquid silver hair that floats around her shoulders. A crown of black ice sparkles on her brow, and her eyes are a solid, terrifying violet—completely devoid of pupils, pulsing with a wild, untamed magic that makes the hairs on my arms stand straight up.
I know who she is instinctively, though the crown and pointed ears would be a dead giveaway had I not.
The Unseelie Queen tilts her head, her gaze sliding past Ter, past the trembling horse, until her freezing, violet eyes lock directly onto mine.
A cruel smile cuts across her pale face.
She’s not beautiful at all, I decide.
There’s something rotten there.
"So," she purrs. My knuckles whiten on the horse’s lead, and I clench my teeth to stop from trembling.
"This is the prized little witch the Shadow King hides behind his walls.
" Her face is a sneer the likes of which would send a court into a full conniption.
"I do so wonder if your blood has the same power once it’s been removed from your body. "
Panic is a sharp blade in my heart, but my pride refuses to let me cower.
I slide a practiced, emotionless mask over my features and manage a polite, empty smile.
I lift my chin, looking the Unseelie Queen in her dead eyes.
"I am no one's prize," I throw back, my voice steady. "And you aren’t welcome here."
Ter lets out a long, loud caw.
The queen laughs. “A fragile mortal creature playing at a game for gods. You possess the blood of the first, yes, but you are a hollow vessel, Aveline."
Violet magic surges from her palm, spears of ice that hover in the air between us.
"Let us see how much light remains when I bleed you dry.”
The ice spears launch toward me with a sickening hum.
“Aveline!” Ter shrieks, throwing himself into the air from Sandwich’s back, a frantic flurry of black feathers and chaotic flapping.
Time slows.
Instinct takes over.
I do not think; I throw my hands out, reaching blindly into that deep, hidden reservoir of molten gold inside me.
Don't explode, I pray silently.
A blinding flash of fire erupts from my palms, expanding into a crackling shield of light. The ice spears slam into the barrier. I grit my teeth, willing the shield to hold. Boiling steam and shattered, glittering shards shower against the terrace stones.
The recoil sends me stumbling backward, my boots skidding across the ice-coated ground. My palms burn, but the gold light winks out as my concentration fractures under sheer panic.
The queen sneers, lifting her hand, the violet light of her magic near blinding. "Middling effort, little witch. The thresholds will fall, and your blood will lubricate the turning of the wheel."
Before she can unleash the attack, the sky turns black.
The terrace walls groan as a roar echoes through the stone. The ground beneath my feet buckles, knocking me to my knees.
I gasp for air, my palms melting the ice on stone, as I try to force myself back up to standing.
I’ve never so much as slapped someone in my life, have no idea how to fight, but I know instinctively that staying on the ground is a death sentence.
In my next heartbeat, a maelstrom of shadows tears from the ground, entirely vaporizing her frost. The ground shakes beneath me, and the air changes, heavy and saturated with a scent I’d recognize anywhere.
Malakai materializes directly in front of me.
A ragged laugh tears out of me, and I manage to get back to my feet.
He does not look like the handsome lord who sat next to me at breakfast. No, this is the Elder God I am fated to.
This is the King of Shadows, and the territorial rage radiating off him is palpable.
Massive, smoke-woven wings of pure darkness expand from his shoulders, completely blocking out the remaining daylight.
His eyes are burning embers in the gloom, and the raw weight of his magic turns the air so thick it is nearly impossible to draw breath.
"Vesperia." Malakai’s voice is entirely demonic, an unrecognizable force that vibrates through the stones.
The shadow-swords at his back unsheathe themselves unbidden, hovering in the air like a lethal canopy, pointed directly at the queen's throat.
"Touch my bride, and I will tear the Underhill from its foundations and bury your court in the void. "
Vesperia steps back into the shimmering violet rift, her expression tightening into a mask of pure venom.
"The bonds are fraying, Shadow King." Vesperia’s silver hair floats around her shoulders. "You cannot hide her forever."
With a snap of her fingers, the violet rift collapses into itself, and I cry out as my ears pop as the magic vanishes.
The watery sunshine crashes back down onto the terrace, almost blinding after the absolute dark.
I take a deep shuddering breath, and the towering shadows around Malakai dissolve back into the ground, leaving only the ruined rosebushes behind.
Malakai rounds on me in an instant. The terrifying god disappears, replaced entirely by a frantic man.
His calloused hands catch me by the shoulders. His dark eyes inspect my face, my neck, my hands with terrifying intensity.
"Are you hurt? Did the frost touch you?" he demands, his voice raw, his thumbs nervously stroking my cheekbones. His touch is blazing hot against my chilled skin.
"You’re as bad as a mother hen.” My heart beats a staccato rhythm against my ribs, and the sheer proximity of his body is doing ridiculous things to my pulse.
He doesn’t laugh.
I reach up, my hands wrapping around his thick wrists to steady his shaking fingers. "The light... I stopped her first strike.” I lick my lips, trying to recalibrate. “I’m not completely useless, it seems."
Malakai drops his forehead down to rest against mine. His chest heaves against my shoulder, the heat of his body a balm to the chill the Unseelie Queen left behind.
It’s strange how easily my body maps itself to his, how I lean into his weight like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
"She created a rift directly into our realm." Malakai’s voice is low and furious. "The wards we sealed at the perimeter are holding, but she bypassed them entirely by coming here. You are our weakest link until we seal our bond, Aveline."
The weakest link.
I flash him a dry look.
The effect is no doubt hindered by the fact our noses are practically touching. "Because nothing says 'I value you as a person’ quite like being called the weak link of the household. Thank you for the vote of confidence, Malakai.”
A faint, strained twitch of a smile touches his lips.
"If the Unseelie Queen can anchor herself here through Aveline’s untrained magic, we need a counter-measure. Immediately." Ter gives an aggressive click of his beak.
“I didn’t see you volunteering any,” I tell him sweetly. “Aren’t you supposed to be helping me?”
Malakai pulls back from me, his dark gaze turning serious as he hooks a finger beneath my chin, forcing me to look directly into his eyes. The intensity in his stare makes my mouth go dry.
I turn my gaze away, feeling too vulnerable.
Too weak, after that.
"We are going back to the Wild Oak Woods," Malakai announces. "We’ll stay at the inn. Wren and the coven will figure out a way to protect you. If I cannot be at your side for every second of the day, you can wear the magic of your coven as a shield."
“Sounds dramatic,” I say with a sigh, but the effect is ruined by the trembling of my hands.