Chapter 40
MAE
“How many times am I going to fail at this before we accept I can’t do this?” I ask through gritted teeth.
“Depends on how many times you’re going to make disparaging comments about yourself,” Asmo retorts as I pace back and forth in the training room.
I huff a sigh. “We’ve been at this for almost an hour and I’m no closer to shifting.”
“Then you’re doing something wrong,” he says maddeningly calmly, as if I’m not about to pull my hair out.
I come to a stop, crossing my arms and facing him. “Or you’re teaching me wrong,” I say with a glare. “Or, like I said, I can’t shift.”
His jaw clenches, his first and only sign of annoyance. “You can funnel, so you can shift. But if you keep believing you can’t shift, then you won’t. I told you, you have to imagine yourself in your shifted body and will it.”
“I don’t even know what my animal form is,” I fire back for the fifth time today. We’ve been having different versions of the same argument for the last hour.
“You don’t have to know,” he says, also for the fifth time.
“It’s probably like…a mouse,” I say as I throw my hands up.
One corner of his mouth twitches upward.
He strides toward me. “It would be the most beautiful mouse I’ve ever seen.
” He pulls me to him, and the tightness in my chest recedes.
“But, again, you know that’s not true.” He reaches for my antlers.
My back arches at his soft caress, nerve endings lighting at his touch.
My buzz dims as I remember the last male who touched me in this way. Marik.
“Your antlers are an obvious indicator of your animal form.” His hand moves to my hair, gently stroking the white strands, the buzzing returning, humming pleasantly in my belly. “And you know that hair color is another good sign of what your form will look like.”
“That’s the problem,” I grumble. “I’ve never seen a white deer.”
Asmo’s fingers snake to the back of my head, gripping the roots and tugging.
That buzzing in my belly turns into something feral, my annoyance now long forgotten, replaced with something else entirely.
His dark eyes bore into mine. “Have you forgotten who you are? The First Deer Queen’s granddaughter?
Direct descendant of Wrena? Why would you think just because you haven’t seen something, that means it can’t happen?
The Mother created you. Why do you keep forgetting that? ”
Because I grew up thinking I was weak and nobody. Because I’ve never believed in myself. Because sometimes my skin crawls and I can’t turn it off unless I harm myself. Because there’s something wrong with me.
“It just feels…” I look to the ceiling as I search for the right word. Wrong. Impossible. Insane. “I’m just me.”
He tugs on the roots of my hair again, forcing my gaze back to his. “You were created by the Mother to save our kingdom. To be the light that protects all of us from the darkness. This is what you were born to do. You can do it. So, I need you to start believing that you can.”
“But what if I can’t?” What if I can’t ward off the darkness that is Marik and Cora? What if I’m not enough? The thought is a whisper, one that I can’t stop from escaping. One I normally tamp down and hold onto, shielding it from the rest of the world.
He brings my hand to his lips, presses them against my inner wrist. To the space where his fang pricked the vein that thrums below. Where our blood mixed when we became one. “You can. And you will. And it’s that simple.”
I want to fight back. I want to tell him there’s so much more to it than that. But maybe he has a point. If I don’t start believing in myself, who will? Maybe that’s where I need to start. With myself.
I rise and press my lips to his, soft against mine. “Thank you,” I whisper against him. “For telling me I’m enough.”
“You’re more. In fact, if you were the only thing I saved in this wretched kingdom, I’d be fine with that. Now,” he says, arm tightening around my waist, “Shift.”
He releases me, and it takes me all of one second to wish I was back in his arms, which are now crossed. He gives me a pointed glare. Fine. I begin to pace the room again, thinking about what the hell a white deer even looks like, when the training room doors crash open.
“Sorry to interrupt, Your Highnesses, but a scout just returned with some urgent news,” Basil says from the doorway.
A young male, snow-white hair matching my own, stands next to Basil. His clothes are rumpled and his hair is greasy. He looks like he hasn’t bathed in days. Based on his large front teeth and oversized ears, I’m assuming a rabbit hybrid. His gaze flits nervously between Asmo and me.
Asmo shifts in front of me. “What is it?” The question is a command, the Prince of Darkness on full display.
I step around him and offer the rabbit hybrid a warm smile. “What’s your name?”
“Ewan, Your Highness,” he says nervously. “I just got back from the High Castle and came straight here.”
“What’s going on, Ewan?”
He looks to Asmo once, then back to me. “It appears they are preparing for a ball, Your Highness. I found castle staff running about with decorations and such. Some also made comments in passing about a ball.”
“Who’s they?” Asmo demands.
Ewan grips his hands together tightly. “The—The false king, sir.”
Marik and Cora are throwing a ball? Why?
“Do you know when?” I ask.
Ewan nods eagerly. “Yes’m. I overheard two guards complaining about their women being too busy with the preparations. Said ‘Only three days to set up for a ball. She’s mad,’” he says with an exaggerated deep voice.
“Do you know why?”
He shakes his head. “Sorry.”
I wave the apology away. “While you were there, did you see a red-haired female with antlers?” I ask, dampening the hope in my voice.
He hesitates. “Y-yes, Your Highness…”
His response puts me on guard. I steel myself but ask, “And? Is she okay?”
“She is alive, Your Highness. But she seems very…sad.”
The weight on my shoulders returns. What have they done to her? What have I done to her? I’ve never seen Elle sad. Happy, angry, frustrated, excited…but never sad. What have they subjected her to? A memory of the osseris pressed against me. The scrape of its—Marik’s—claws. I shudder.
That creature is her mate.
We need to get her out. Now.
Asmo turns to me, and I can see the gears turning in his head. “A ball would be a good opportunity to attack,” he whispers.
He’s right. “We need to meet with everyone,” I say, turning back to Basil. “Canis and Ursidae, too.”
“Shouldn’t we at least discuss the plan with Etta before we meet with them?” he asks.
“No,” Asmo says, “We only have a few days until this ball. This might be the only time we have. We don’t have the time to iron out details here, then do the same with the other Houses.
“Gather the Herd and send a message to Canis,” I order. “We’ll all meet at Ursidae.”
In under an hour, we’re all seated around a wooden circular table. Although the table is huge, there are far too many of us. Houses Ursidae, Canis, and the Herd all sit crammed together. Asmo’s leg rests against mine, solid and warm.
“So,” I say, “I think it would be wise to strike during the ball.”
Torben leans back in his chair. “You think it would be…wise…to attack when they most likely have heightened security, a heavy witch presence, and innocent civilians present?” His tone is dubious at best, but mostly insulting.
My ability to keep calm is an accomplishment of its own.
“Yes, Torben, I do.” I turn to the rest of the group. “Think about it. They’re not going to be expecting it. They don’t even know that we have the Fae or the Lower House members behind us, nor do they know that we’ve been in communication with the other Houses.”
“Unless it somehow got out that you slaughtered all the witches here,” Barrett says with a grimace. He tosses me an apologetic look.
“You’re right,” I agree. In hindsight, maybe that wasn’t the smartest move, but it gave a family—a court—hope, and I don’t regret it.
“But I think that’s a risk we take. Even if they know we’ve been in communication and we visited your court, they still don’t know that we have the Lower Houses or the Fae behind us.
Those numbers alone are big enough to make a difference in battle. ”
“And how do you propose to keep the civilians safe?” Queen Sasha asks.
The question hangs in the air as we all silently consider the best option. The first to speak, to everyone’s surprise, is Princess Eden.
“Are the Lower House hybrids able to shield themselves?” Her question is directed to Etta, voice timid, hands wringing in her lap.
“Most of them, yes,” Etta responds.
“Are they powerful enough to shield others?” Eden asks.
Etta looks at Basil, who answers, “Some of them.”
“What if we disguised Lower House hybrids as guests? They would need to be placed strategically throughout the crowd. They could also help direct the citizens away from the battle.”
The idea is solid. “That could work, Eden,” I say. “Every citizen is invited to the ball, so they could just walk right in.”
She blushes and shrinks back into her seat.
“All of the High Houses are invited, so us getting in won’t be a problem. But how are you going to sneak yourselves in?” Torben asks.
I smile. “We have the answer to that.”
Asmo explains the dark magic spell to change our appearance. Torben looks disgusted at the idea of using it, but Princess Lola leans forward in her seat and listens with rapt attention, eyes gleaming. Princesses Arella and Eden look at their parents skeptically.
“I’m not downplaying the use of black magic,” I say hesitantly, “but we need to use every tool at our disposal. Glamours are too easily broken. It’s our only option.”