Chapter 19 Prophecy Fulfilled
PROPHECY FULFILLED
One look, that’s all it takes. One look at Thane and I know that she’s not finding a way to twist the truth.
Oh, Thane. No…
Like, really? He didn’t think to mention that little tidbit when he was vowing to be honest and prove I can trust him?
No, ‘Hey, Alana, I forgot to mention… the queen is my kin’!
And, godsdamn it, essence exchange? You had no problem showing me the pretty, pretty fae that’s his betrothed, but you never thought I should know something this problematic?
With Thane staring at Queen Celeste, I take the opportunity to jerk my arm out his grip. A second later, I realize that that means I’m free to go over to Rafe—until a guard materializes at my side, using a sword to block my path before I can take more than a few steps.
I stop short, glaring at the guard, glaring at the queen, and then glaring at Thane for good measure.
That seems to knock him out of his stunned stupor. His hand goes to his waist, lifting his sword by the hilt a scant few inches before Queen Celeste tuts, and he yanks his away. That doesn’t erase his sudden furious glare as he stares her down from over the cage.
“You say that I’m your nephew, Celeste,” he snaps.
“The whole Court knows I was your ward. Sold to you by my noble parents, and left with a debt that has taken me decades to even make a dent into.” He slaps at his belt, but even I don’t think he’s reaching for his sword again—and neither does she.
She pats her lush lips, faking a yawn, as he grabs his pouch of gold, chucking it at her feet.
“There. How much more do I owe you now?”
Rather than answer him, she turns her soulless gaze on me.
“This is the sort of gratitude I deserve?” she asks before turning with a sniff on Thane. “You should be thanking me on bended knee, boy.”
If looks could kill, she’d incinerate on the spot based on the force of his stare. “Thank you?” His hollow echoes around the cavernous, gaudy hall. “And only land myself deeper in your debt? Never.”
Now it’s my turn again as the queen… the same fae female who has my best friend in a cage… gives me a simpering look. “Do you believe how he treats me? After all I’ve done for him.”
Honestly? “Yeah.”
She purses her lips. “What if I told you that none of it is true? That he’s lured you here as an offering, same as my demon pet?” Her gaze lowers, directed right at Binx. “And you’ve brought one of your own, I see. Maybe I shall take the creature, too.”
That will never happen.
The only way I can keep Binx from attacking Queen Celeste is by promising through our bond that I’ve got this. That, even if I didn’t, I would never let someone try to take him from me. And, you know what? I feel the same way about Thane.
“Fae can’t lie,” I tell her coldly, “and my mate certainly doesn’t lie to me.”
For a moment, she loses the simpering look. The flash of surprise is the only thing that seems truly honest about Queen Celeste, though that fades just as quickly as it appeared.
“Mate, is it? One would think that such a high-ranking noble would tell his queen that he was taking a mate.” Lifting her hand, he taps her pouted lower lip with a longer, gold fingernail. “Especially when he has a betrothed to consider.”
She gestures, and as though one of the females along the side was waiting for such a signal, she glides gracefully across the floor.
Fiona.
Oh, gods, no. Sorry. Maybe it’s the Sombran demon in me, or just the fact that my mom is Shannon, but I am way too possessive of anything that I consider mine.
From the books I borrowed from the EL and hid in my room to when I first bonded with Binx and Rafe tried to sneak him to his house, I won’t let anyone get between what’s mine.
And that includes Thane Aurex.
I tighten my fist, remembering the way that Queen Celeste gathered the shadows around her fingers. If she can do it, and we have the same sort of shadow magic… why can’t I?
The shadows at my feet stay where they are, hidden away as though they sense it would be dangerous to call the queen’s attention toward them. That’s fine. There are more than enough shadows in this throne hall, and before I know it, I’ve coated my fist in the inky black tendrils.
“Not now, Fiona,” I mutter through grit teeth.
It’s not as strong as Queen Celeste’s gauntlet.
Not as impressive. Still, when I fling my hand out, sending the shadows flying at the flawless beauty moving toward Thane, it works.
The dark shadows slam into the bodice of her gown, sending her stumbling back until she’s swallowed up by the other nobles again.
Queen Celeste doesn’t like that. She doesn’t like that one bit.
Losing any pretense of friendliness, she looks at me, fire in her eyes. “You think you can best me, halfling? A full-blooded fae with over a thousand years of mastery over my shadows? How old are you? Three centuries? Four?”
If only.
I just my chin at her. “I’m twenty-five.”
Murmurs break out through the crowd. Even Thane’s head swivels toward me, surprised to hear me admit that. His fault. When I asked him his age, he never asked me mine, and he definitely didn’t dig into my essence enough to know how young I was as an immortal.
Hey, halfling. And, yeah, I know… in so many worlds, twenty-five is still considered a spawn when the race doesn’t mature until their first century or two.
That’s the beauty of being half human, though.
I’m twenty-five, still immortal, and hungry enough to go up against an ancient fae queen who (hopefully) has gotten a little too complacent on her massive golden chair.
The way her features twist, I think my age offends her more than my audacity at showing up here with my new mate, demanding that she release my best friend from his cage.
Clutching one of the gold bars, giving me a daring stare, she announces to all gathered: “The only way I’ll release the demon from his cage, and my nephew from his debts, is over my dead body.” Her grin develops a wicked edge. “Or yours, Alana of Sombra.”
Great. So she knows who I am. Not surprised, considering she already knew I was from Sombra. I don’t know if Rafe was the one who squealed before she gagged him with her shadows, or if Thane is right and she has eyes and ears everywhere, but it doesn’t matter.
“If those are your terms, your majesty, so be it.”
Her lips part. At first, I think it was my mocking retort—and that’s when I see a swarm of five… six… no, seven monarch butterflies appearing in the room. How? No idea. The doors are closed, armed guards on each side. And, yet, there they are, each one flapping their wings right toward me.
Celeste’s gaze sharpens on a straggler.
“The crowned wings,” she murmurs, more to herself than her audience. “The prophecy did not exaggerate.”
“Another one?” I cross my arms over my chest, pretending that my heart didn’t skip a beat to see their sudden reappearance; and in such numbers, too. “There are way too many prophecies about me. It’s getting annoying.”
Queen Celeste strokes the bar of Rafe’s cage before taking a few steps closer to me. “Are they? Well. Aren’t. You. Special.”
On the last hissed word, she shoots out her hand, snatching the straggler for the air. Before the butterfly can escape, she squeezes her first, dropping the broken butterfly to the slick, gold floor.
I gasp. “Why did you do that?”
Ignoring my pained cry, she lets the mangled butterfly fall by her feet. I gasp, wanting nothing more than to go to it, while knowing that I can’t. Not with her sword-happy guards at my back.
But… look. It’s still moving. It’s okay. Right? A sign of mortal resilience in a fae world, the human butterfly has to be—
Just when I thought it might survive the queen’s malicious cruelty, she stamps on the wing with the heel of her shoe. A flicker of irritation crosses her perfect face when she sees that she’s pierced it through, the dead butterfly stuck on the heel.
“Griselda? New shoes. Now.”
Another of the nobles peels away from the crowd, scurrying toward Queen Celeste.
On the way, she removes one of her heels, then the other, so that she has them in her hands as she approaches the queen.
Once she reaches her, she drops down, changing the queen’s shoes, replacing them with her own before disappearing among the other nobles.
Queen Celeste lifts her foot, marveling at the immaculate heel. “There. That’s better.”
It’s the easy way she killed something so harmless that makes me realize that prophecies… you can blame fate if you want. You can pretend as though you never had a choice. You did something because someone with a different power than you saw you doing it, and that’s all there is to it.
But, no matter if it’s a mortal life or an immortal one, we all make choices. And at that moment? I make one even without knowing that the true Prophecy of the Gilded Throne is.
Queen Celeste cannot be allowed to rule any longer.
Do I know how I’m going to make sure that she can’t?
Not yet. Just like how I had no idea what I was going to do to rescue Rafe.
Getting to him was more important. Now I’m here, and the only way I’m getting him out of that cage is by going through Queen Celeste.
And she knows it.
As though she can read my thoughts—and I really, really hope she can’t—the beautiful yet vicious queen tilts her head, letting her fiery hair fall to the side, showing off the slender column of her throat.
“‘From shadow and flesh will come her ruin,’” the queen begins, so obviously quoting something, I know it has to be the prophecy that brought me here.
“‘She will walk where she is forbidden. Her coming will be marked by the crowned wings.’” She pauses, throwing a murderous look at the swarm swirling protectively over my head and out of her reach before resuming the faux pleasant grin.
“‘And the Gilded Throne will not survive her.’”
Her gaze locks on me again. “And now you know why you’re here.”