by Gaja J. Kos
Yelena’s voice swept through the room, silencing the restless demons. I pushed back up with grace, mindful to keep my posture respectful but not meek. Never meek. Yelena had always been disappointed that I didn’t exactly live up to her expectations.
Well, today she was in for a treat.
I lifted my gaze to her delicate, triangular face, taking in the soft chestnut curls that fell down her ageless body, the sharp cheekbones I had inherited, and her rosebud mouth, slightly tilted up in amusement. Her golden gaze met mine, letting me feel the entire weight of the staggering power she held.
The power she was.
“Liva. Daughter. I haven’t seen you in years.” The syrupy sweetness of her voice nearly made me gag, but it failed to mask the lethal cold lurking beneath. Oh, she knew exactly how long I hadn’t come here. And I was betting she drew a nice little line in blood for each day that had whisked by. “I presume you have put some further thought into the offer Lena conveyed to you.”
She looked at me like some homicidal cat, merged together at the hip with a fucking spider, determined to snag me into its web. Naturally, that kind of murderous crazy was meant for me, and me only. Even her lackey demons saw nothing but their alluring queen.
I was tempted to tell her that she could cut the crap despite the fear pooling in the pit of my stomach, but I wanted her to play this game just a little longer. I wasn’t beyond stooping to her level to get what I came here for.
“You’re right, Mother. I have,” I said calmly, then fell into silence. Our gazes remained locked, my magic infusing every single cell in my body, making me more like Yelena than I would ever dare to admit.
The burnished gold of her eyes pulsed as she waited, a hint of surprise seeping through to the surface at my unexpected stand. I didn’t allow myself to think of the precious seconds that were slipping by, didn’t allow myself to seek the presence of the bond. I knew Cian was still alive. And that had to be enough.
The uneasiness within the chamber grew in proportion to the tension sizzling between us, my mother’s minion demons put out of their element by my act. They knew I wanted something. Knew enough about their queen’s daughter to be sure I would never have come here if it were otherwise. But the full extent of the truth eluded them.
As it did my mother.
Just as her lips parted in question, my voice filled the space and brazenly cut her off. “Give me the Sword of Ala. And the hallow is yours.”
Chapter 27
“The Sword is a sacred item.”
If her eyes could spit fire, I would be Nightwraith barbecue by now.
I crossed my arms in front of my chest. “So is the Stone.”
“You have it.”
“It is within my grasp.”
The entire chamber vibrated as raw power radiated for Yelena’s flesh. She wanted the hallow. She wanted it so badly I could taste it on my tongue. And the sensation was far from pleasant. The seconds stretched on as our magic pushed at one another, seeing which one of us would back down first.
“Give me the Sword of Ala,” I pressed, keeping my voice calm and hard even as my insides trembled, “and I will deliver the Stone to you.”
Yelena leaned back in her throne of mist, but I didn’t flinch beneath the weight of her gaze as she wanted me to. Instead, I let the magic surging in me speak of my resolve. She would never get the object she desired if she didn’t give in to my demand.
The vision of my death was a living thing, etched into the now dark gold of her eyes. But Yelena didn’t move, merely cocked her head to the side. “Leave us.”
The command swept through the room like the chill of death—maybe because that was precisely what it was. A promise to be fulfilled if they didn’t obey.
As it turned out, the demons had no desire to lose their lives today. They rushed towards the warded gate in their particle forms like a gust of wind, until there was no one left but us, still locked in our silent battle. Sweat was dripping off my brow, revealing that, unlike Yelena, this display was taking its toll on me. But I couldn’t do a damned thing about it.
My mother would see right through my bluff, and, in all honesty, my appearance didn’t matter all that much in the grand scheme of things. Not when my magic parried hers, vine for vine.
It was Yelena who broke contact eventually, and waved a delicate, manicured hand through the air. We reeled back our powers at her command, the sudden release of the pressure making me sway slightly.
I half expected her to strike when I was weak, but Yelena did nothing of the sort. She merely leaned back in her throne, her golden eyes on me. “You will return the Sword as well, once you are done with whatever foolish task you took upon yourself.”
As I dipped my head in acknowledgment, Yelena’s mouth flattened with displeasure, but the Sword of Ala appeared in front of my feet nonetheless. Slowly, I bent to retrieve the weapon, my magic roaring at the thought of being able to wield something as powerful, something as lethal as the legendary blade in my hands. The blade that carried the essence of the demonic Allfather in her core.
The sword’s surface glistened darkly, offering me glimpses of the contained thunderstorm of death that she was, but I didn’t fear the sensation. I welcomed it.
The bastards didn’t stand a chance.
I evanesced within the Court of Fire—in one of the many spots I had seen back at Cian’s manor. Luckily, my assessment had been correct and the choice of location placed me just a short distance away from the outer ward. Although I couldn’t see the damn thing, I could still feel it, and that was enough.
I had no intention of prying its layers open carefully. Especially if the state of things the objects’ memories had shown me still held, and the setting was similar to the one back home.
Home.
I blinked, taken aback by the unintentional admission. But it was true. Cian’s manor gave me a sense of security, of belonging I’d never felt anywhere else. Yes, it had everything to do with the male himself, but the place did still feel like home to me, and there was no point in denying it. So I shook myself mentally, shoving the rushing clouds of thoughts aside. I would have as much time as I needed after I got Cian back to ponder over just how I ended up becoming a future High Lady of a Fae court in a manner of days. A future High Lady who was sneaking into enemy territory, wielding the strongest weapon demonkind possessed.
Honestly, it was a miracle my mind didn’t already fragment from the overload of impossible changes.
Loosening a breath, I placed Lena’s bag on the soft soil and fished out three devices. Coiling tendrils of my magic touched the first of the explosives, the power activating the sweet little gadget and adding the additional juice to make it do its job. Once it was as loaded with power as it could possibly be, I repeated the process with the other two.
I could have sworn I heard the sword on my back snicker in delight as I marched up to the invisible ward, carefully balancing the bombs in my hands.
“Gods, I hope this works,” I murmured, then pressed the first device into the translucent barrier without further thought.
A mere second after the energy-laced explosive touched the ward, a pulse of power rushed from the device, the destructive wave spreading through the night sky like the wings of a storm. The air stirred uneasily, instantly saturated with the alarms my intrusion had set off.
I let my own magic wrap around me, the blend of light and darkness snuffing out the small cries of fear, and pushed on. There was no turning back now.
Not that I even wanted to.
I shattered the second ward within seconds, then sprinted towards the third, and shoved the final device into it. Even as the ripple of destruction spread, my right hand wrapped around the hilt of the sword. The power inside me grew, transformed into what it had always been meant to be—a tempest of annihilation.
My mind locked on the image of a subterranean chamber set deep within the bowels of enemy territory, and I evanesced, reemerging not as Liva Kasun, but Liva Ambrose.
The Nightwraith daughter of the Queen of Mist.
And the one who would feast on their lives.
Chapter 28
Inside the manor, my bond with Cian grew stronger, his essence becoming a beacon that guided me through enemy territory like the pull of a magnet. Magic shot out of my core and encompassed my environments, creating a map of all hostile beings in the vicinity. I didn’t dare dwell on their staggering number, but instead focused on the weight of the sword in my hands and allowed her to infuse me with her unimaginable power.
In her presence, I didn’t have to be a fighter to overcome my enemies, and with both my light and dark magic joined into an inseparable whole, there were few limits to my abilities.
The thought was frightening and reassuring all at once.
I held on to the latter rather than the former and sprinted towards the door to my right, then down a long, torch-lit corridor. Voices filtered through the air, the pulse of the Fae—those who were rushing towards me, as well as those who raced towards the ward—stirring the wide net of my magic.
I felt them all.
The awareness, the sharpness with which I knew where they were stole my breath for a second. But the moment passed quickly, the acceptance that this was who I was, moving my feet forward.
I turned the corner and ran straight at the four heavily armed Fae headed in my direction. Surprise flashed briefly across their chiseled faces once I came into their line of sight, so I used the gifted opportunity to let my power loose.
Ethereal vines pierced the fire coming from the torchlights, stealing its particles and multiplying them until a wall of flames materialized before me. One of the Fae laughed as he took in the barrier, and thrust a hand into his long, curly hair, the image distorted by the flickering tongues of heat.
“We are of Fire,” he sneered, the other three chuckling lightly behind him, and sent a pulse of his own power to probe at the wall.
His smile, however, faltered when he realized the flames were ignoring his call. The three cronies huddled behind him instantly took a step back. But the corridor was long, nothing but solid stone without any nooks or crannies to hide in.
It was my turn to smile.
With a silent command of my mind, the wall shot forward, flames hissing wildly as they reached for the retreating Fae. The bastards broke into a run, trying to escape the scalding touch of death, but there was nowhere to go. And they weren’t nearly fast enough to outrun the demon fire.
The stench of scorched flesh rippled through the air. Thick. Vile. My stomach churned, but the deep pleasure I felt oozing from the sword as well as the magic inside me snuffed out the nausea and replaced it with a craving for more.
More blood.
More death.
More vengeance.
That small, rational part of me I had cultivated over the years was repulsed by what I had become, by what I had accepted so willingly after fighting it for years… But I ignored it, dismissed it as the fairy tale it was.
I had been wrong to split myself in two and choose only a part of my heritage to create a false reality I thought was safe. A false image of who I was, too.
There was no light without darkness. I knew that now. Damn it, I’d known it for a long time but refused to accept the fucking truth. Just as there could never be a patch of purely peaceful antiques, reflecting the world as it was, I couldn’t hope to change my true nature. Because I was a part of that world, too, and my path, the one I was destined to walk, teetered on the edge of opposing forces.
I could never be like Yelena—but that also meant I could never be like my father. My true form merged their essences, creating something new in its stead.
The power inside me rolled and rumbled in response, its joy, its gratitude washing over me. I clung to the sensation like a drowning woman, snuffed out the remnants of my fears, and let it guide me forward.
I leaped over the charred remains of the Fae, constantly expanding the reach of my magic to pinpoint the threats with each step I took. Without the schematics of the mansion, I had nothing but the pull of the bond to steer me in the right direction.
I didn’t have the luxury of sneaking past my enemies.
I had to mow them down.
Threads of power rushed towards me as I entered a narrow, unfurnished chamber, immediately followed by the heavy thud of boots. I planted my feet on the ground and plunged into my core. My magic crashed into the lethal energy in an explosion of hissing tendrils that eroded the foreign force inch by inch as I faced the two muscular, dark-haired Fae. Their battle gear was far finer than what their now scorched brothers-in-arms had worn, hinting at a higher rank in the hierarchy.
But top dogs or not, I didn’t particularly care. And neither did my sword.
She rolled with thunder, her surface becoming the midnight blue and gray of a fierce storm. Lightning sizzled down its edges, vicious, hungry, calling out to taste the bastards’ flesh.
Guided by her strength and desire, my body moved with ancient knowledge, parrying then evading the Fae’s advances. The air became thick with the residue of the silent battle our powers fought in the background while we danced around the chamber, our blades clashing together in a blur. Lightning leaped every time steel touched steel, singing the Fae’s skin, and laugher erupted at the back of my mind. Only it wasn’t mine. It was hers.
As the Sword of Ala fed on the Fae’s flesh, I fed on their groans—on the pain that oozed from their bodies, becoming stronger with each passing second as the two males waned.
Block. Slice. Slice. Block. Slice.
Thunder encompassed the chamber, the bolts of lightning growing, extending their reach until every single jolt found its mark. Until the very air was saturated with demonic electricity.
One of the Fae staggered back as a particularly nasty bolt pierced his heart. Without wasting a single breath, I hit him with a pulse of power that threw him against the wall and stole that final heartbeat from his chest. My magic kept the other occupied long enough for me to make sure the bastard was dead. Satisfied with the result, I spun around and embedded the Sword of Ala into the male’s neck.
Lightning exploded in a ball of fury, feeding on the dying flesh wherever it spread. The burnt stench intensified until the Fae crumbled on the ground, nothing more than a heap of carrion that bore no semblance to the warrior he had once been.
As my magic made certain once again that both were down for the count, I closed my eyes and focused on the thread connecting me with Cian instead. He was close. So close.
And guarded.
A dash of something familiar caught my interest as I swept the wider surroundings—a faint pulse that stood out from the mass of signatures those positioned before Cian’s cell emitted, as well as the ones lurking in the vicinity. Damn it.
The signal was too far off my immediate course, lurking somewhere in the eastern side of the manor, but as much as I wanted to explore, it would take me time to get there. Time I—or, rather, Cian—didn’t have. Still, unease stirred in the pit of my stomach, carried on the wings of a suspicion. But one that would have to wait.
Readjusting my grip on the sword, I sent out a massive wave of power. The press of it splintered the door and temporarily incapacitated the seven Fae waiting on the other side. My magic chuckled as limbs flew through the air, presenting me a field of scattered, but easy targets.
I threw myself among them, cutting down each Fae in my immediate vicinity before they even regained their balance, while my power battled the rest, conjuring mist that disoriented them and paved the way for me to capture their lives.
Cian’s name became a chant within my mind as I bathed in blood and magic. As I became a whirlwind of death with only one goal in mind.
One chamber.
Just one chamber left and Cian would be mine.
Chapter 29
Purple eyes met mine as I blasted through the ward surrounding the damned cell. Relief rushed through me, but was quickly replaced by something far
less pleasant.
Fear.
My breath caught as I took in the chains, the blood dripping from dozens of angry cuts scattered all over Cian’s body. Even his energy felt…weak, somehow.
Fuck. I’d hoped I was wrong, hoped that the dampened presence of our bond was due to the distance or some spell that prevented me from sensing him fully. Because this…this was so much worse.
I forced myself to look away and scan the chamber. There was no way the Fae could have weakened him so much in less than six hours. I might have ran away from power half my life, but I knew it. Just as I knew how to unravel wards and break their layers into basic, individual components, I knew there was something sucking on Cian’s life force.
At least that solved the mystery as to why they hadn’t killed him outright. The bastards were feeding on him.
However, that didn’t mean the end result would be in any way different. If they syphoned every last ounce of his power—of his essence—there would be nothing left for Cian but death. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
“Liva…” His voice snapped me from my thoughts, from that relentless voice of panic that just didn’t shut up.
“Shush, I need to concentrate.”
A weak laugh brushed against my ears, and I spun around to see his eyes alight with love and amusement even as shudders rippled down his flesh, speaking of the agony he was trying to prevent me from seeing. The impulse to unchain him nearly clouded my mind, but the magic inside me issued a soft warning. Trap. It was a trap.
One last fail-safe to ensure Cian wouldn’t leave this chamber alive.
“I don’t suppose you know how they rigged your cell?” I asked gently to keep him in the loop.
He shook his head.
“I figured as much,” I said, hoping to the gods the tremors in my voice weren’t showing, “but a girl has to try…”
Then, blowing out a breath, I scooped more power from the depths. Only when my ethereal hands cradled as much of it as I dared, did I meet Cian’s gaze again.