Chapter 49 #2
With a motion of his hand, the shadows wrapped around her, replacing her nightgown for the attire of a queen.
She stood at the mirror, breath caught in her throat.
Gone was the girl who had once lived in exile.
In her place stood a vision forged by shadow and sovereignty.
The gown clung to her like liquid night, woven from silk as dark as the deep and threaded with veins of molten gold that curled across the bodice like vines.
Red gems gleamed like captured firelight, nestled at her throat, her waist, her hip.
The dress exposed her shoulders and dipped low enough on her back to whisper of power rather than vanity.
Her hair was gathered up and coiled with delicate gold chains that shimmered in delicate strands.
A crown rested upon her head, not ostentatious, but unmistakable.
Forged of volcanic glass and starlight, it traced her brow with sharp, elegant curves, a single red gem glinting at its center like the eye of a storm.
He admired her with that still, predatory calm, arms crossed, shadows curling at his heels. His eyes smoldered with embers and something heavier.
Alora’s throat tightened.
His gaze traces her slowly, from the glint of the crown at her brow to the gold threading her gown. The intention behind the dress was laden with meaning. As though daring the world to forget who she was.
Alora absentmindedly reached for her Sunstone dagger, until she remembered it was gone.
“It was lost in the Ruins,” Rune sighed. “I’m afraid it cannot be replaced.”
Her heart sank a little. She had been fond of that pretty blade.
Shadows swarmed in Rune’s palm as he summoned her daggers of Moonstone and Nightstone. “But these are nearly as dangerous, if not in equal measure.”
Once they were strapped to each thigh, Alora was ready to face whatever reckoning that waited.
She smiled at the golden doorknob in the shape of a briar rose and opened the door, stepping into a hall she didn’t recognize.
What had once been a humble, one-room-cottage, now rose into a luxurious, two-story manor with a wraparound hall and doors that led to other chambers.
The walls were paneled in rich oakwood, carved with the expanse of flowering meadows.
A gilded chandelier shaped into the branches of a willow glinted from the ceiling.
Every detail was exquisite yet soft and made for her.
An open loft framed the view, letting her see the living space from above.
The main room had transformed with lofted walls with floor to ceiling windows let in the soft pink light of dawn over a large couch and chaises framed like curling vines.
Delphi perched stiffly on a velvet green one, spine rod-straight, expression unreadable.
Her sapphire gown was torn, her face splotched with soot.
Rihan sat beside her, small hands folded in his lap, too quiet.
Perhaps because Caelum stood guard near them, hand on his hilt, every inch the loyal sentinel in his knight armor.
A rounded section of the room where the light didn’t touch held a hearth and a new dining table of polished wood stretched across the kitchen.
There, Lady Zinnia sat. She rubbed her face, looking like she’d aged ten years overnight.
Across from her, was Calla. The demoness watched her with glowing red eyes, legs crossed on the table, relaxed.
Yet she was still dressed in armor, knife spinning in her clawed hand.
“My lady was tortured,” Calla said coldly. “And her magic was stripped. How did that male manage to get his hands on her? Who taught him that siphoning spell?”
Zinnia sighed “The Calverons were proficient in magic, Harbinger. It didn’t take long for Eldrik to learn how to use the Elder Tree portals. The spell is woven into the bark itself. He used a few Tanzanite stones to focus the magic. I had no part in Alora’s capture, as you can see.”
She motioned to her wrists covered in burns and blisters.
The same burns Alora had before Rune healed her.
“He was armed with Hellstone,” Zinnia said tightly. “Do you truly believe I would willingly give that power-hungry fool the means to bind me?”
Alora absentmindedly rubbed her wrists, recalling the black stones veined in red.
It is ore from the Abyss, Rune answered before her question could fully surface. The same once forged for the prison holding the Primordials. Only a shard is enough to bind us lesser beings.
“As for the siphoning spell,” the Thornbearer continued, tapping on the scroll set on the table. “This array is far more advanced than anything I have seen in all my years. It is magic of the gods.”
Calla bared her fangs. “And you are a demigoddess. How do I know you speak the truth?”
“Because she is also fae,” Alora said quietly. “And the fae cannot lie.”
All looked up at her as she descended the stairs with Rune at her side. With a swipe of his hand, the shadows drew the curtains over the windows. Thick enough to block the sunlight without leaving them in complete darkness.
Calla stood and dropped to one knee, bowing her head.
“Is it safe?” Rune immediately asked.
Alora frowned. Safe?
“Yes, sire. I have warded the cottage,” Calla replied. “With the Thornbearer’s wards on the Midlands, full protections are in place. Everything’s been prepared.”
Before Alora could ask what that meant, Delphi looked up.
“No amount of preparing will stop what is to come,” Delphi said, her cold blue eyes meeting hers. “If you had simply not resisted—”
Rune snarled, shadows lashing across the floor. The wood split with a violent crack. Delphi flinched back, clutching her son.
Zinnia shook her head. “Remain silent, sister. You have done enough.”
Delphi glared at her. “And what have you done? We both made a promise to Salvia but only I attempted to right her wrongs.” Her gaze snapped to Alora again. “Everything I have done has been for the sake of the kingdom.”
Alora held Delphi’s gaze, holding onto every bit of calm she could muster as a slow burning rage boiled in her blood. “I will ask you clearly and I expect a sincere answer. Did you aid Calveron in their conquest for Argyle.”
“No,” Delphi replied tightly.
“Did you provide Eldrik with the siphoning array?”
“No.”
“Then why did you help him?”
“As if I had a choice!” Delphi snapped, clutching Rihan with shaking hands.
She bore the same burns on her wrists as well.
“I did not scheme, or plan, or set them upon you. Calveron came for the magic in our divine bloodline. I hid my son for I would not offer him up as chattel. When Eldrik set his eyes on you, I saw an opportunity for the benefit of us all.”
Alora’s chest tightened, her body trembling with memory of pain and terror, the utter helplessness as Eldrik peeled the divinity from her veins.
“Benefit?” she repeated.
The room darkened. Shadows spread through the room, swallowing the light and warmth.
Delphi shrank ever so slightly, her throat bobbing. “You misunderstand me. The magic you hold is damned, Alora. It is not meant for this world. No matter the pain, you should have let Eldrik take it.”
Rage spewed up Alora’s throat. “He did.”
Shadows surged outward in a violent ripple, knocking over chairs, curling up the walls, twisting the light into nothing. The air turned thick and heavy, darkness rippling off her in waves like the rising breath of a sunlit forge.
A hush fell as everyone froze.
Rihan’s hand clutched the edge of Delphi’s sleeve, his wide eyes locked on Alora in silent fear.
She caught a glimpse of herself reflection in the glass cabinet behind him and her breath caught.
Her eyes flamed a wild, bleeding red. Luminous marks smoldered beneath her skin like molten script, flickering with power.
Her nails had lengthened into claws, smoke rising from where they grazed the air.
“No…” Delphi’s voice dropped to a tremble. “He left what lay beneath.”