42 LONNIE
UNDERNEATH
As the king drew nearer, Bael erupted into motion.
He charged toward the enormous lion—a golden streak against the darkening sky. His own lion form was lithe and powerful, and seemed to drag tendrils of smoke in his wake, like he was made from magic itself.
Screams erupted from the marketplace and over the harbor, and I realized distantly that one of those screams was me.
My voice had gone hoarse from all the yelling. My mind was a twisted jumble of questions and fear, overstimulated and on the verge of collapse. Still, I yelled for Bael, and refused to tear my gaze away as the prince and king collided.
A thunderous roar echoed over the harbor. The two beasts met, and it was hard to make out who was whom in the frenzy of fur and blood. Even in this form, Bael and his father were nearly identical and I struggled to know who was winning. With every sharp blow, I gasped, unsure if I should cheer or scream.
“Rebel, we have to go!”
Scion’s hand gripped my arm, pulling me back to the harsh reality of our situation.
I turned to meet his gaze, and my vision swam, barely seeing him. He dragged me toward the water, apparently no longer bothered by the ship if it meant keeping me away from the battle in front of us.
“Stop!”
I demanded. “We can’t go.”
“We can’t help, either,”
he said, sounding as frustrated as he was desperate.
Dust and debris flew up as the lions swiped and clawed at each other, their fierce battle shaking the ground beneath our feet.
Scion turned and watched the battle for a moment, and I could see the conflict in his gaze. Without magic, Scion wouldn’t stand a chance against Gancanagh, but he seemed to still be considering going to help. I loved him all the more for it.
“No,”
he tore his gaze away. “You’re what matters. We need to go.”
“I don’t care about me,”
I insisted.
“Lonnie, go!”
My brow furrowed with confusion. I heard the yell, and my brain could not process it. I was looking at Scion and he hadn’t opened his mouth, yet I heard his demand.
For a moment, I thought I was losing my mind.
Then a silver-haired figure broke free of the oncoming army and sprinted toward us.
Ambrose skidded to a halt beside me, his black eyes were twin obsidian stones, hard and reflecting a resolve that brooked no argument.
For a long second, he and Scion stared at each other and the tension rose. I couldn’t have guessed what they were thinking if my life depended on it.
“We need to get her to the ship,”
Ambrose snapped.
“Right,”
Scion agreed, and picked me up once more.
Air whooshed from my lungs, and I struggled to breathe as we sprinted to the ship. Still, I managed to voice my protests, screaming curses at the pair of them as we ran.
The ship was anchored exactly where we’d left it, and on the deck I could already see Lin and Riven marshaling the crew into action. The sails were being hoisted, and crew members ran back and forth up and down the gangway, loading cargo back onto the boat.
We drew nearer, the male’s boots pounding against the wooden dock and my entire body bouncing with every step they took. I squinted toward the ship, and a small sense of relief washed over me.
The mysterious prisoner was easily identified, his long hair and beard standing out even at a distance. He was leaning over the side of the ship, watching us approach. If he was aboard, so too must be my mother.
“Go!”
Ambrose pushed Scion forward ahead of him, and the two of us traveled quickly up the gangway onto the ship.
Scion dropped me, but didn’t fully let go, his arms still wrapped around my waist and holding me in place.
“Set sail!”
Ambrose barked at the crew, and Lin echoed his yell, urging everyone to move faster.
“No!”
Tears stung my eyes, the salt of them mingling with the brine of the sea. My chest heaved as if I’d run for miles rather than stood frozen to the spot. “We can’t just leave him!”
“He can use magic here, Rebel. We can’t.”
“So?”
I demanded, new tears choking me.
“He can shadow walk to reach us,”
he replied. “Once you’re safe I’m sure he’ll follow, if…”
He broke off, a spark of pain appearing behind his eyes.
“If he’s still alive,”
I shrieked, my hysterical yell drawing the crew’s attention away from the battle on land. “That’s what you mean, isn’t it?”
Scion’s gaze was haunted, but he nodded. Then, seeming to want to distract me, he gestured to something behind me. “Go see to your mother.”
I glared at him. For a moment, I really did hate him.
Riven took charge of bringing my mother and the escaped prisoner below deck. My mother was still alive, but barely, and it was worry over her and Bael that drove the prisoner from my mind. I forgot to warn anyone where we’d found him or that he might be dangerous.
I forgot everything else entirely.
My gaze clung to the shore, trying desperately to keep Bael in sight. The sails unfurled, catching the wind and the ship lurched forward, like a beast awakening from slumber.
Dread sunk into my chest. We were truly leaving him behind.
In two strides, I lunged for the ship’s side, my hands grappling for purchase on the slick wood.
But Ambrose was quicker.
His warrior reflexes honed by years of conflict, this time it was the elder brother whose arms encircled my waist, pulling me back with an iron resolve.
“Let me go!”
I raged against him, my voice rising like the howl of the wind. “He needs me!”
“Love,”
Ambrose’s voice was a whispered plea, his breath warm against my ear. “If you interfere, you’ll die.”
I heard him, but I didn’t care. It wasn’t myself I was concerned about.
It was the golden-eyed prince that I loved, the one whose very presence had always been both unsettling and intoxicating. He needed me now, more than ever.
Just as I prepared to unleash another volley of protests, a guttural roar tore through the air, silencing all other sounds. Time and motion seemed to crystallize, the world narrowing down to a single point.
There, amid the chaos of the harbor, the two lions clashed with primal rage. Blood covered the sand, and both beasts seemed to be gravely injured.
From this angle, high above on the ship, it was easier to tell who was whom. Gancanagh was larger, but Bael was far faster and more brutal. As I watched, he danced around his father’s bulk with deadly grace, then struck, sinking his teeth into the king’s jugular.
“Look!”
I pointed.
Distracted by the fight, Ambrose’s grip loosened around me. My heart hammered, my breath caught in my throat as Bael tore again and again into Gancanagh’s throat.
The king’s roar turned into a strangled gasp, the sound of tyranny ending with a whimper, and he collapsed onto the sand. With one enormous paw, Bael dragged his claws down the other lions chest, splitting him open to reach his heart.
“Fuck,”
Ambrose’s amazed voice cut through the pandemonium, to rise above the crash of the waves and the screams of fleeing townsfolk. “This makes him king!”
I barely heard him. I didn’t care.
With a wrench of my body, I tore myself from Ambrose’s grasp.
I didn’t hear his protestations, nor did I see the shock on the faces around me as I dove headfirst over the railing.
The wind whistled past me, the long fall stealing my breath and making my stomach climb into my throat. I plunged into the icy embrace of the harbor, and the cold rocked me. My legs flailed as I spun beneath the surface. Then, with a splash I resurfaced, gasping for air.
My entire body screamed in pain as I swam frantically toward the shore. Saltwater stung my eyes, blurred my vision, yet I propelled forward, like I were drawn by an invisible string.
As I stumbled onto the rocky beach, coughing the sea from my lungs, I saw him.
Even in his exhaustion, Bael’s cat eyes found mine amidst the chaos. He was still a beast, but I could tell just from the way he looked at me that it was him. I stumbled forward out of the water, and ran to meet him.
In the distance, I thought I could hear Scion’s frantic yell, and the gasps of onlookers as I launched myself at the bloody lion, wrapping my arms around his neck.
Beneath my fingers, his form shimmered and shifted before my eyes. The lion’s mane receded, the tawny fur melted away, until there stood not a beast, but the man. Bewitching. Beguiling. Beloved.
“Don’t cry, little monster,”
he croaked.
I only cried harder.