Queen to Ashes (Black Dawn Series Book 2) Page 13

  She calmly responded, “King Adair called on me. I wish you to take me to his chambers.”

  A tilt of his head. A pause. He turned and started to lead her away.

  Following, her pulse hammered viciously against her ribs. The distant echoes of song called to her, and she tried not to think of Wren or Riona down in the market. Or the possible alliance she could have cultivated with them. Swallowing hard, she kept her chin up, making her body respond: One foot in front of the other.

  The hallways curved, and the staircases loomed in front of her as she paused, the hairs on her arms rippling in goosebumps, when she first heard the voice.

  “Emmmorrrry.”

  The chilling call stopped Emory in her tracks as the crisp high notes of the whisper shivered down her spine. The guard continued, the flickering lights dancing along the wall. Her breath caught as the temperature suddenly dropped in the hallway. One-by-one behind them, Emory watched the lights snuff out, plunging them into shadows. Turning, unsheathing Anithe in front of her in one motion, Emory squinted into the semi-darkness: The hallway was empty.

  Her ability surged down her arms and pooled in her palms as the blade ignited, responding to her fear. Swirling embers trailed off it, flickering in the shadows. She was utterly frozen, adrenaline making every noise too loud, every shadow tricking her eyes. The guard must have stopped, his footsteps ceasing behind her. Another light was doused until only one was left.

  “Emmoooory.”

  Clenching her jaw, she yelled, “Show yourself!”

  Emory caught a glimpse of the guard, his face taut with fear, before he turned and ran away, leaving her alone.

  Her breath caught.

  There at the end of the hallway in the shadows stood a woman, her long, stringy, black hair framing her pale face. She wore a simple, white dress that was unstained. Ice ran through Emory’s body as the figure slowly looked up at her, lips pinned back from her pointed teeth. Her empty eye sockets, macabre.

  Slowly, she tilted her head, her bony limbs lengthening and cracking before Emory’s eyes.

  The last light ceased to be, and Emory was plunged into complete darkness.

  Screams clawed at her throat as she heard the thud of flesh against stone, and the creature charged at her, hidden by the shadows. Run. The air rushed by her, her footfalls like thunder as she raced blindly. Giggles sounded from behind her, as below, the screams climbed up towards her.

  Pumping her arms, she concentrated on her breath as she flew, her feet connecting with the floor. She swore as she narrowly missed slamming into a wall when she sharply cut left. Sweat clung to her skin, and she pushed harder, trying to not look behind her, trying not to imagine why these creatures had come, who they were.

  Run. Run. Run.

  The thought seared into her mind, and she felt the solidness of the floor beneath her. And then she was greeted with air as she fell. Screaming, Emory plummeted down. The air howled around her as she slammed into the concrete, tasting blood in her mouth, the pain lacing around her ribs. There must have been a staircase. Cursing, she pushed through the pain making her body move. At the base of her neck, hot blood trickled down her skin. Looking ahead, the stairs slowly came into form as her eyes adjusted; a light flared at the mouth of the entrance about a hundred feet away. Her body lurched as cold hands gripped her arms, pulling her back.

  “Emorrry, we have waited a long time for this.”

  She saw saliva dripping off the creature’s teeth, coating her cheeks as she thrashed.

  “You will pay for what you have done. For what you have destroyed.”

  Wrenching her arm down, she slammed her boot in the creature’s chest, buying her a moment. It hissed as she scrambled up, slipping on the cold stones, crying.

  “You are only delaying your death. It is time we finally spill Fae blood.”

  No, no, no!

  Her palms found the hilt of Anithe, and she gripped it, slashing it as she poured every ounce of her ability down the handle, into the metal, into the lingering magic she knew was there. Flames erupted between them, sending the creature rolling back from the golden inferno. Her chest heaved as she now looked at not one but four women baring their teeth at her, trying to press forward to rip and tear at her. To end her.

  Running again, she soared down the steps, the trail of fire searing behind her. Smoke choked her as she wheezed, coughing up blood, and pain overtook her thoughts.

  Charging through the entranceway, Emory stopped, looking at where the Night Market was usually in full swing, the beauty of the night sky blinking down at them, to where she had entered a nightmare. Dabarnes roared around her, their long bodies flexing, revealing the muscle underneath as they crashed into the vendors, roaring. Their yellow eyes too familiar, their hooked teeth and grey bald skin transporting her to a different time, when the Academy had fallen. Adair had said the monsters that made up his army had lived in the Noctis woods as his allies.

  A green gas bathed the cavernous floor, wafting between the creatures and clawing into people’s mouths, into their eyes and ears. Emory watched in horror as their eyes turned dim and empty, their pupils gone, until all that remained was an inky emptiness. Screams overlapped one another, piling and piling and piling. But it was one scream—Riona’s scream—that slammed her back into reality as she spotted the blacksmith wielding a hammer—one edge flat, the other sharpened into a deadly hook—swinging it with fierce precision toward Adair. The Mad King laughed amongst the chaos. Amongst the monsters and death, he laughed. She felt her body respond, charging through the gas.

  The last six years bled away from Emory. She felt that ghost of a boy get whisked away as she allowed herself to remember that he had once been her friend. That she had once cared for him. Trusted him. But he had chosen this path; he had chosen to kill and to segregate. He had killed her parents, and he had bred fear in their world. Bred a fear in her, shackling her to the darkness. To a life of pain. And she could never forgive him for what he had done.

  Her roar was all consuming as the flames grew, and her ability raised its head as Adair turned.

  Confusion flickered across his face for a split second before she was met with a wall of ice. Slamming her sword down, it cracked through the ice, and their blows met with equal ferocity.

  “RUN!” she screamed at Riona, blood and spittle flying. She willed her body into compliance, into remembering their deadly dance: Adair was relentless, and she ducked, as his blade missed her by inches.

  “You cannot win this.” It was a quiet whisper.

  She bowed her body, slashing at his chest as he turned to smoke, appearing behind her.

  Turning, she said, “I can try.”

  He arched an eyebrow. “Oh, the truth comes out now. Very much like our visitors tonight, you have come to take what you have lost.”

  “Yes.” She was blasted back, her head slamming against the floor as he stalked up to her.

  “Then take it.” The floor shook beneath her as she staggered back up to stand, blood dribbling down her chin. Her breaths came in short, wet-filled bursts as she ran up, screaming. The flames from Anithe’s blade roared, forming a protective shield before Emory as Adair’s dark magic slammed into her.

  She felt that prick of needle against her skin. No. And then a hundred followed the first. It was like falling through ice, the adrenaline turning into shock. Each moment was captured with a serene clarity. The poison surged through her just as she erupted through the flames, her mother’s pendant burning against her flesh, as her free hand closed against Adair’s wrist.

  Her world exploded.

  She gasped as his energy drained into her body, his ability racing through her veins. Looking into his wide eyes, fear filled them. Pressing harder, each second slipped her closer to her death, but she pushed the monstrous creatures from her peripheral. All except one.

  “Emory, please,” Adair pled

  It was one last desperate attempt. To manipulate, to play her for a pawn. She would n
ever break. And she would never bow to him.

  Lowering her lips against his ear, she rasped, “I tried to believe in you.”

  Adair stilled, the inferno of chaos rattling around them, splitting their world. His breath was hot against her cheek. Gods above. There was pain everywhere. Erupting, splintering pain.

  All she saw was his eyes when she said, “But you underestimated me.”

  The end of her sword drove upward, right into his heart. Her world was filled with screaming as she watched black blood pour from his wound, from his mouth, racing up her sword, she tried to pull away, to fight against it. But she was so tired. She just wanted to lie down. Just for a moment.

  Adair’s blackened blood raced up to her as she fell backwards, everything blurring together, the fire and ash, her guilt and rage. All greeting her one last time, intertwining around her heart. In the distance, a silver light brightened, calling her name, softly as if it had always been waiting for her. Always knowing it would come to this. Her end. She smiled as she met it, hand outstretched, leaving the pain behind.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Brokk

  Ice cold water slammed onto his face, and Brokk lurched up, sputtering. He saw the hand blur as Kiana slapped him hard, his head snapping back from the force. Her silver eyes came into focus, along with her scowl.

  “Took you long enough.”

  Blinking, he took in the gentle swaying of the leaves, the warmth of the sunlight against his skin, and the blue sky above him. There was no trace of the dabarne as he rasped, “Water.”

  It was a second before a cup was before him, her ancient eyes roaming his own. “You took a beating with that thing. It’s been a day, but you have healed.” Groaning, he sat up, drinking deeply. “You have seen something like it before?”

  Sighing, he nodded. “Not one that had inhabited a body... But yes. A long time ago.”

  Darkness filled her face as she whispered, “We have to go. There has been a...shift in the magic. I’m afraid time is working against us.”

  Pausing, he closed his eyes. Around him, the calmness of the forest serenaded him, luring him into that peacefulness. But on the edge of it...silence—a harrowing emptiness that settled right into his gut. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end, and he breathed into the fact this was his fate. He thought he knew what fear felt like, but nothing compared to the realization he was finally going into Adair’s kingdom, into the heart of evil itself.

  Dark thoughts pulled at the edges of his mind. Was he too late to save Emory? Brokk could feel there was a greater evil in this world—bigger than kings or queens—and it was time to face it no matter the outcome.

  His eyes flew opened. “How far away are we?”

  “A few hours. We must leave. Now.”

  He stood, stretching, and she snapped her fingers. The camp they had set up disappeared.

  “Handy trick.”

  She smirked. “I had to be comfortable while I worried over your dying body.”

  Rolling his eyes, he grumbled, “I hope you have a plan.”

  Her lips pressed into a hard line, and she nodded. He had seen that look before. He had accepted that sinking feeling many times himself.

  Without another word, he shifted and ran, assuming Kiana could keep up. If not, he couldn’t stop. Wouldn’t stop. If Emory was about to face...to face an ounce of what he had experienced with the Oilean... He couldn’t bring himself to think about it. Couldn’t accept that reality.

  They flew, weaving in between the trees, and leaving his past behind. His paws shredded the earth, and he steeled his heart.

  ***

  The hours bled away as the tinges of night swept in. The Ruined City encompassed them, and Brokk shifted back, looking for scouts, for soldiers...for anyone. Kiana leaned against the dusty, crumbling wall, her scowl deepening with every minute.

  “Just get it off your chest now, Kiana.”

  Her eyes glowed in the dying light; her face unreadable. “I should have known that Tuca was already gone.”

  His heart turned to stone as he whispered, “That’s what the Oilean do. Blend reality and nightmare. Truth and lie. What happened to Tuca was just a taste of what is waiting for us. We can’t prepare for the impossible, Kiana.”

  Kiana unsheathed her sword, following his gaze. “I have lived a thousand days, century after century, waiting for the time that our world would settle into some sort of resolution.”

  “How about we focus on not dying for the next couple of hours, okay?”

  A ghost of a smile. “No promises, My Prince, but I will certainly try my best.” Her wicked grin made him swear colorfully under his breath.

  Wrenching his gaze back toward the mountain range, he stalled, his heart hammering. “Ready?”

  Emory. Time suspended in the clutches of the thrill. The anticipation. Brokk was terrified of what he would find nestled in the heart of the mountain. The soldier he had been trying to escape his entire life overtook every nerve, every fiber in his body.

  Kiana replied, “Yes. Now, how we have to enter Adair’s kingdom... Well, I just want to warn you, you probably won’t like it.”

  “What are you thinking?”

  Kiana smirked, “For your nerves its best just to trust me on this one.”

  Brokk shrugged, trying to settle his hammering pulse. “Let’s go.”

  Shifting back, he snapped his teeth. Kiana nodded, placing a hand on his colossal shoulder. At her touch, coolness settled in his muscles, and he arched his head, watching her magic weave into leather across his back, the straps secured- holding beautiful lethal knives.

  “You can never have too many blades.”

  Rolling his eyes, he charged, jumping over rubble, dust clogging his senses as he heard the soft footfalls of Kiana racing beside him. Faster and faster, they pushed until they were blurs of gold and silver, the destroyed remnants of the capital encompassing him.

  Don’t think. Don’t think. Panic wasn’t an option, not when he was so close to helping end Adair, even if it meant facing the Oilean again.

  Kiana made a sharp left, cutting in front of him as she sprinted farther into the Ruined City, Brokk following her. At the end of roadway they were following lay huge chunks of rubble piled against one another. Brokk thought it built a disjointed looking stairs, and suddenly, Kiana propelled herself forward, grappling with the stone, pulling herself up. Following with ease, Brokk scaled the rubble, and they both climbed higher and higher. Wondering exactly where she was headed, Kiana turned, as if reading his thoughts and smiled softly at him. It was a snap of energy, of light and sound as one moment he was scaling the debris and the next he felt pressure.

  And then, the wind was howling as gravity left him. Shifting back to his human form, a steady stream of curse words flew from his mouth as the Ruined City became smaller and smaller until it was just bones scattered across the land.

  Then they were flying.

  Kiana grinned down at him, a cyclone of light circling around them as they sliced through the sky with ease. The Draken Mountain range grew closer, the mammoth’s jagged edges severe. He didn’t understand it, her magic, or how every story he was told as a child had become his life. But the landscape below him was nothing more than veins mapping the story their world told and the energy he felt.

  And Emory was somewhere down below him, fighting a battle alone or having accepted her fate was lost. But it never was or had been. Or would be.

  His cheeks burned, the air grew thinner, but Brokk tried not to look down. Kiana flew beside him, her magic propelling them at unearthly speeds. Through squinted eyes, he could see the top of the peak. It had been cleared off, revealing a massive space.

  It was like a window to the stars, and Kiana yelled, “It took me years to find out that Adair had done this. Naturally with a little help. Hold on. He has wards up.”

  The air howled around them when they shot down. Kiana screamed as sparks flew from around them, and he felt it, the ripping at his mind,
at his soul as the magic devoured them. Her inhuman hold on him tightened as they spiraled faster toward that brilliant expanse, the glass sheen coming into focus. They gained too much speed and he yelled, bracing for the impact.

  Flickers of yellow and red flared far below like those long nights when Adair would bomb them, and he could feel nothing but the bone-rattling shudders through the ground. He always imagined, above them, that the explosions of light, of destruction, of fire were breathtaking, just as much as it was lethal.

  “SHIFT!” Her roar brought him slamming back to reality as Kiana dropped him.

  Brokk’s heart dropped into his stomach, as gravity sunk its claws into him.

  And he fell.

  The wind sounded like screams as his body flailed, and he caught snippets of the world: Fading of light, the night sweeping in. The glass that separated him from the war that awaited him. And Emory. There were a thousand things he had always wanted to say to her. That he was sorry for betraying her. For choosing to stay behind when he should’ve gone. For not standing up to Memphis.

  His scream tore through him, and if he lived, he would try to put into words how the gaping hole in him had never healed since that day in the woods six years ago.

  Shifting, his screams turned into growls. The sunset reflected off the pane as the sharp tang of magic filled his mouth when he crashed through it. There was a crack like thunder, and shards buried themselves deep, tearing and flaying his skin effortlessly. His howls echoed around the cavernous room as the world seemed to hold its breath. But he only gained speed, and the floor rushed up to meet him. His body desperately tried to back pedal, but he couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. Finally, he slowed, Kiana’s magic making sure they both landed safely, as his paws touched the ground.

  The air was hot, and all he could smell was blood, and that scent-the smell of rotting flesh, smoky and acidic. Terror shredded through him just as he felt her grip around him, her magic radiating like a shield.

  A wild look sparked in Kiana’s eyes. “Let’s go get your girl, shall we?” He couldn’t even form the words that Emory was not his girl.