Chapter Sixteen #13
“You!” Bradach charged her, hate contorting his face. He truly hadn’t known the woman he was falling for was the body? vessel? of Constance, and he didn’t give a shit. Looking into his eyes, all he wanted was her dead.
Constance flicked her finger. “Ferramenta.”
Bradach vanished in a cloud of dark smoke. Thudding to the ground, a golden candlestick dropped at her feet.
Roaring, Foalan unsheathed his blade—his crystal-studded hilt glowing. “Eld—!”
“Ferramenta.”
The cloud snatched Foalan. A mantel clock fell on the pile of his empty clothes.
“Attack!”
My guards came at her from all sides, Eadaoin leading the charge. Magic burst from her palm—soaring straight at Constance’s smirk.
“Ferramenta!” She clapped, her voice resounding through the throne room.
The feather duster that was my first friend in Lumenfell thudded next to her love, Keefe—the broom.
The cloud shook out its collection of furniture, utensils, plates, and cleaning implements—striking the entire room dumb.
“Hmm, that was always my favorite spell.” Constance swept the room, grinning. “Anyone else?”
No one moved. No one breathed.
Except for Alisdair.
“Evil, rotted bitch!” He fought against his bindings. “I put you down once, Constance! I’ll do so again! I swear it on the deepest depths of your black heart! Your victory will be short-lived.”
Her smile twisted, teeth clenching. “You’ve become quite ill-mannered during our time apart, darling. A few hundred years in a dungeon ought to help you remember your manners.”
“I’ll remember them when I burn the flesh from your bones and piss on the ashes.”
She snarled, that disgusting grin finally gone. “How dare you! You should be begging for my forgiveness! You betrayed me,” she shrieked, madness in her eyes. “You turned me into a filthy servant, bowing and scraping after that!”
I didn’t know what she was talking about, until she pointed at me.
“You dared to marry that worm. To make it your mate and promise it the throne that belongs to me!” Constance roared, red eyes popping out of her head. “You will atone, Alisdair, and you’ll do it in silence!”
Her hand slashed the air, and Alisdair’s jaw snapped shut.
“Hmh! Hmpf! Hmm fmnnm!” he shouted, but nothing got out. He couldn’t open his mouth. He couldn’t speak.
“What did you do to him?” I yanked on my manacles. “Undo it! Release us and undo it!”
She didn’t so much as look in my direction.
“My throne.”
Constance twisted around. “What?! Who spoke!”
“Me.” Emiana stepped forward, chin held high—not a trace of fear on her face. “I think you’ll find the throne is mine, Constance. That was our deal. I free you, and you free me. It’s me who’ll become the high empress of Elva. No one else.”
A thousand emotions flit across Constance’s face—all variations of rage and disgust. Then they washed away, leaving her expression blank. “You’re right, of course. Forgive me. I’m sure you know how a lover can goad you into saying things you don’t mean.”
My soul burned hearing this madwoman call my husband her lover.
“You held up your end of the bargain, and I will hold up mine.” She snapped her fingers. “The binding spell is lifted.”
Emiana cried out, joy filling her as she lifted into the air—cradled by the magic that was always there, but just out of reach.
“But.”
Emiana’s joy vanished. She dropped hard on the floor. “But?” she snapped. “What but?”
“Well, surely you know it’s not as simple as declaring yourself high empress,” Constance breezed, shrugging. “As the worm told you, you didn’t marry a king. It did.”
I bristled at the way she spoke about me.
“You have no claim to the throne of Wind and Wild. You don’t even have a claim to the throne of Lyrica. You are a princess in name only. Your father made sure of that.”
“You said you could fix that,” Emiana cried, rushing the dais. “You promised you could make me high empress!”
“If it was as easy as waving my hand, I’d have done it myself!” she shouted back. “I said I could give you a throne, I never said it would be easy!
“There will be war, girl. War, and death, and pain. Are you ready to accept the toll—?”
“Yes,” Emiana sliced in. “This is my birthright. I will fight for it. No matter the cost.”
“To everyone else,” I exploded. “You will plunge the nations into war to force their submission to an empress that has no business breathing the same air as them! And I don’t speak of you, Emiana.
” I glared at Constance. “I speak of her. Whatever lies she told you, she will not give you rule of Elva!”
Emiana’s expression flickered.
“Once she’s gained control of the kingdoms, she’ll slaughter you and take—”
“Silence.”
My jaw snapped shut. I shouted—yelling and cursing through lips that wouldn’t open.
“As I was saying,” Constance continued. “If you accept the cost, then we will begin here. Today.”
“What must we do?” If I planted any doubt in Emiana’s mind, she promptly ripped it out and tossed it away.
“There are ancient texts within these walls. They will aid us,” Constance said, receiving Emiana’s bobbing acceptance. “Also, hidden in the dungeons, is a siren.”
“Hhhmph!”
“Alisdair had brilliant plans for the creature. An idea so good, I wish I thought of it myself,” Constance said. “We will take it with us.”
“Very well. What else?”
“There’s a rat woman somewhere nearby, who has power not even I possess. She will serve us or die.”
“Naturally. All are my subjects. They serve me loyally, or they burn in the Plains.”
“And the witnesses,” Constance said smoothly, “who have been listening to your treason and now know I am the power behind you. They must die.”
Emiana held her gaze unflinchingly. “Kill them.”
“Hhhhm!”
Constance snapped her fingers, and the world ripped away.
A jolt resounded through my chest, twisting my stomach.
It was like falling from a sudden, unseen cliff.
Blinking, I found us on the other side of the drawbridge, standing at the edge of the burned-out, smoking village.
Us being me, Alisdair, Constance, Emiana, and a large, glass orb—filled with seawater, and the siren within it.
I couldn’t even marvel at the sloshy, cold puddles everywhere I could see. The ice was melting—beaten down by the humid heat sweeping freely through the green, verdant trees—chasing the stars across the horizon.
I couldn’t even move.
Alisdair reached for me, his eyes frantic. I couldn’t respond as his wrist manacles snapped together, then plunged to the floor—dropping him to his knees.
Something living—something powerful—slipped inside of me. Racing through my pores, it surged through my body, filling me to bursting, latching on the chains around my soul, and taking hold.
“Pay attention, Alisdair,” Constance called. “I want you to watch this.
“Nabud Kardan!”
The ground rumbled beneath us. I had no idea what she’d done, until the first tower came down.
“Hmmh!”
Castle Riagin imploded. The walls crumbled, the windows blew out, and the towers collapsed—tumbling down on the people inside.
“Hmm! Hmmhh pghh!” Alisdair threw himself side to side, near wrenching his arms from their sockets.
It was no use. Our home. Our people. Our friends.
Gone.
And I registered none of it.
Tipping my head to the sky, the moon peeked through the clouds, took hold of my bindings...
...and tore them free, shattering my chains—erasing the clamps around my magic.
I exploded.
My magic roared like a wildfire, burning all in its path. Incinerating my insides. Scorching my nerves. Decimating my bones. Wiping out my mind. Breaking the manacles.
Emiana nodded, folding her arms. “Unfortunate, but it had to be done. What about the books?”
“Those will be easy enough to fish from the wreckage. It is the rat woman who will be hard to track down. And her daughter,” Constance added. “We will find and take them both.”
“What about her?” Emiana’s hateful gaze turned on me. “We don’t need a Gutter rat. Why did you take her?”
“It was necessary. The worm only serves one more function now, but it is an important one,” Constance said.
Once again, she did not deign to look me in the eye.
“Torturing her in front of Alisdair will bring him endless pain, and me endless pleasure.” She turned.
“I think I’ll start... by...” Constance trailed off, eyes widening as they landed on me—rigid and shaking.
“Meya, help me...” she breathed, daring to call upon our deity.
“What?” Emiana snapped. “What are you—? Oh, her hair. Revolting, isn’t it? You don’t know how it disgusted me to wear the skin of a moon-kissed whore, but thankfully, her affliction didn’t pass to me.”
Constance didn’t seem to hear a word Emiana said. She backed away from me, eyes rolling in her head raking me up and down. “You’re moon-kissed?!” she shrieked. “A worm like you? Bestowed such an honor? How? Ho—!”
Ripping open my jaw, my screams let loose.
I screamed. I screamed and screamed as overwhelming, unnatural power consumed its weak and fleshy wrappings—the poor, little woman ill-chosen to be its host. My little body couldn’t contain it.
Nothing on this earth could.
“No! NO!”
Constance turned to run, her grin nowhere to be seen.
Moonlight burst from my skin. Surrounding Constance, it enveloped her and hardened—holding her still in her tracks with only a stray thought from my mind.
“You fool,” Constance screamed at Emiana. “Why didn’t you tell me she was moon-kissed?! Why didn’t you—?”
“Die.”
The command erupted from my soul, spoken with a voice that was and wasn’t mine. Pure, magnificent light wrapped around Constance’s arms, legs, neck... and pulled.
She choked—eyes bulging and body uselessly flailing against unseen chains. Her limbs lengthened, spreading in all directions over the newly awakened land.
“N-noo!” she rasped. “M-Meya, please! I am... your rightful... chosen! I was b-born for this... world! It’s mine! IT IS MINE—!”
She tore to shreds, showering me, Alisdair, and a screaming Emiana in blood and gore.
“Ahhh! What was that?” Emiana cried. “What did you do? What did—?”
I snapped to her, my whole body glowing—my whole body singing with pain and power. Lifting my hands to the air, moonlight collected on my palm like starlings hopping along the branches—safe and knowing they were exactly where they belonged.
“Don’t you dare, you filthy Gutter whore!” Rage contorted Emiana’s face into something hideous. “Stay away from me! Eldur! Eldur!”
Fireballs soared at me, crashed into an invisible barrier, and glanced away—burning the ground around me.
“I am the high empress of Elva! Eldur! Eldur!” She rushed me when magic failed. “You will bow before me! You will obey—”
I swung my hands down, bringing the blinding, impossible light down on her like a ton of bricks.
It crashed on her skull, cracking it open and snapping her neck with her final insult still on her lips.
She was dead before she hit the ground.
Kicking away the useless creature, I turned on my gaping husband.
“Now, what were you saying before we were interrupted, my love?” I snapped my fingers, and his chains fell away like wet wastepaper. Just as easily, the power fled my body—leaving me weak but whole. “Something about loving me and worshipping my body until the end of time and after?”
A slow, wonderful smile spread across his lips. Surging forward, he scooped me into his arms—kissing me breathless.
“Yes,” he teased, nipping my nose. “Something like that.”