Witherstone- Wings of My Legion

by Elizabeth Holland

  It was going to be Tristan. I was certain. But as he stood there, brow furling, fingers twitching, waiting for something he wasn’t entirely prepared for—while Lorcan let out a shriek of pain—I felt my entire body tremble. My eyes shot to Tristan as he watched Lorcan grab at his chest in a fit of anguish. It looked like there was a fire—a blinding, white-hot fire—starting beneath Lorcan’s suit. His chest pocket was burning from the inside out. I turned and faced Bryn and caught the fear flickering through her eyes. Lorcan was a changed man—apparently changed enough to earn a kingship—but to Bryn, he was still a tyrant. And by the time I faced Lorcan again, he was on his knees, ripping at his suit, unable to free the tie and cool his skin. I left my seat quickly and went to his side as Tristan and Aislinn slowly knelt and lowered their heads.

  This wasn’t exactly the best time to bow down, but everyone did. After Tristan—somewhat reluctantly, and with sorrowful red eyes—lowered his head to his new king, the entire audience followed suit. Up from the chairs, a unanimous rustling of movement rattled my ears. Onto their knees, the faeries in attendance bowed down as Lorcan cried out in terror.

  “How can I help?” I pleaded as I fought to loosen his tie.

  “Get it off!” he shouted, repeating himself over and over until I finally got the thing undone. But it wasn’t enough. Lorcan tore through his vest, popping the buttons off like they weren’t even sewed on, and then did the same to his shirt.

  And then I saw it.

  The blazing, searing mark of the king, swirling around under his left shoulder, etching a pattern onto his skin from within. His own magic, the ice that had been his ally from birth, was now so intense that it raged a burn no one could ease. And the details of the mark grew by the second. Starting out as a large circular design, the pattern traveled around like a maze, leaving little tendrils here and there, all culminating into a mystical, mastery of nature’s art.

  Lorcan clenched his teeth as he gripped my arm. I looked to him as I watched as his eyes shift from cerulean to crimson to aquamarine. He was fighting the transition, and who could blame him? He had renounced his right to the mark. No one, least of all him, had expected this to happen. Crying out, Lorcan was in terrible pain. And everyone there was just letting it continue. I wondered if I should be doing the same, that it was maybe a right of passage or something. But Caleb didn’t let me suffer. I couldn’t just let Lorcan lay there in agony.

  Placing my hands on his chest, I breathed out into the wind and closed my eyes. White. Emptiness. Nothingness. Clear and pure. No pain. No love. No fear. And soon, I could feel Lorcan calming down. When I opened my eyes, he was still breathing in shallow bursts. The pain of a new mark doesn’t just go away. Lorcan still had my arm tight in his grasp, but I couldn’t think about that. I had to keep my focus on the white expanse. A few minutes later, while the faeries remained on their knees in silence, Lorcan was able to breathe through the last of the branding. The design shimmered fully, from one edge to the opposite side, and then the icy blue light went dull.

  Lorcan, taking hold of the ground for stability, got up from his knees. Bent over, probably still feeling the dull ache of the branding, Lorcan took a moment to regain his strength. His undershirt was the only thing still tucked into his pants. But even that had ripped at the chest. His jacket was off, his button-up shirt was hanging from one arm, and the vest was in pieces. Steadying his breath, the man stood up and eyed the place. Everyone there was still knelt with their heads down to honor the new King. As I scanned him over, carefully inspecting the mark on his skin from a couple feet away now, I felt the urge to bow down as well. Maybe it was nature, maybe it was just that I wanted to be respectful. Whatever the reason, I didn’t give it much thought. I fluffed my skirt and went down to my knee, and he quickly called to me in a raspy, broken voice.

  “I’ve told you before,” he paused to swallow. “You should never bow to anyone.” I took a second to let his words sink in, and then I gave him a nod. “Come here,” he told me, and I went over and stood at his side. “Rise up,” he said to the people. Repeating the words in his native tongue. “Stand for your King.”

  The people got to their feet and stood silently. Tristan, though, was the last one to stand. And as he did, he breathed through a smile that was both relief and sadness. It obviously hurt him that Lorcan was chosen, but I think it also took the weight off his shoulders. Lorcan was made to rule, he was molded as a child and later as an adult. Tristan would have been forced into the role. And he would have done an amazing job, but it wasn’t the life he had wanted. Lorcan was now King; there was no going back.

  BY CANDLELIGHT

  I had to be dreaming. I was standing outside the Manor House in Frostmoor and the trees were covered in dark ice. I was shivering in the black dress from the funeral.

  “Hello?”

  The night sky was so clear, and all the stars were shining like little diamonds. I stood there in awe until a hand grabbed my shoulder.

  “It’s okay, it’s me,” my brother pulled away just before I swung across the air.

  “Dylan!” I gasped. I was hugging him before I could take another breath. “You’re okay!”

  “Not yet,” he corrected me. Setting me down, he warned, “This is far from over.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked him, but something past the trees had stolen his attention. He passed me, stepping in front of me to protect me, and called out to the darkness.

  “She will not be yours!”

  “What is that?” I whispered. The chills I had at first were now causing me to tremble uncontrollably. I watched the darkness billow out over the trees in a slow and unending fashion that had me gripping tight to my brother’s sleeve. “Dylan?” I tugged at him.

  “Go inside,” he commanded.

  I turned quick and went to run up to the doors when I felt a weight come over my body. I couldn’t run, I couldn’t hardly take a step. The dark fog was rolling closer, and there was Dylan, standing his ground as he transitioned into a wild beast. My feet wouldn’t budge; it was like I had been trapped in a slow-motion sequence. Now, as Dylan’s beastly roar echoed in the sky, I faced the rolling fog and cowered as it came over me.

  Then I jerked up from my bed in a sweat, screaming until I couldn’t breathe.

  “Are you okay?” Bryn rushed into my room seconds later. Sitting at my side, she studied me.

  “It was just a dream,” I ran my fingers through my hair. I had to repeat the words in my mind to convince myself.

  “More like a nightmare,” she shook her head. “Do you want me to stay?”

  “No,” I smiled in thanks. “I’m alright.”

  “Okay,” she agreed, and then left the room after telling me that I can call her back in anytime.

  I sat there for a few seconds before agreeing with my logical mind and accepting the fact that I wasn’t going back to sleep. It was cool in the room, but I had some of the biggest, comfiest blankets in all the realms. Honestly, I wasn’t sure why Frostmoor didn’t have things this nice. When I was there, I was freezing the whole time. Even a hot bath didn’t stay warm for long. Skye Sorn, though, was warmer in general. At least the times I had visited. I thought about the two realms and the people therein. The Lordship and Ladyship, the Kingship.

  I felt terrible for Tristan. He was confident he’d get the king’s mark; we all were. He was a good guy, an honorable guy. All he ever wanted was to have the woman he loved. He’d lost so much. And he was taking it very well. He bowed to his brother even though he swore he never would. He stepped aside and didn’t challenge him at all. Another perfectly obvious example of his honor. And now, what was he going to do? Would Lorcan choose to live in the city, in his golden castle? Or would he ask Tristan to leave the ancestral home and take the Caisleán an Spéir as his ruling ground?

  The sky through my window was a dull, dark blue. I twirled my hair around for a minute and then plopped back onto the pillows and sighed. I was so tired. But that dream. I knew it couldn
’t have just been a dream. It was a warning. I had seen my brother in his, I don’t know, his dreamscape? The place we forced him to stay in until the spell—the bond that Dune had forced—could be lifted.

  Dune.

  I hadn’t given him much thought in the past couple of days. I had my daughter to think of now. I had to see that Tristan and Lorcan were good before leaving for home. Then I had to help Elliot. Then, finally, Isle Lore.

  I let a big breath and went to roll over when I felt my belly against the bed. The sensation of my rounded womb was not something I expected, and I quickly jumped clear out of the sheets.

  “There’s no way!” I tried to be quiet, so Bryn wouldn’t come back, as I rushed to the tall mirror that was standing near the dresser. “You’re so big,” I whispered as I turned and lifted my shirt to see the bump that was now protruding enough to surpass my cradling hands. I was indeed having my daughter soon. And, now that I had wasted a whole week in less than twenty-four hours, her arrival was coming faster than I had imagined.

  There were a couple of times that Elliot and I—the real Elliot—had been together. Of course, at the Manor, and then again when we returned to Hallow Hills. That meant, at the earliest, I had been pregnant for almost four months. In mortal time, anyway. That’s much faster than I would have thought, given that the dragons at my ceremony with Elliot were expecting a child, and that she had been pregnant for eleven months. I believe she had a few yet to go. But, in Frostmoor, time was a different thing than in the earthly realm. Their days were four times slower. Which meant those sixteen-ish months of pregnancy for a full-blooded dragon would equate to four months on Earth. And that actually made sense. Coupled with a few days in Skye Sorn—twice now—and I’d be pretty close to the end of my pregnancy. Maybe since I wasn’t a full-blooded dragon I’d have a more mortal pregnancy. Maybe it could go longer. Maybe.

  Who was I kidding? I shoved my shirt down and went over to the bed to grab the long black sweater at the foot. I tugged it on as I huffed about the whole mess. And what a mess! I had so much on my mind and I had no one to talk to. Well, yes, I could go bother Bryn. But I wanted to speak to Charlotte and Lydia. And Scarlet with her restless, curious mind.

  I left my room and stormed right out into the hall, rounding the corner as I mumbled about time travel and fairy tale creatures, and all the things I still thought were a dream—honestly, there were so many strange things in my life now—and I bumped directly into Lorcan. King Lorcan.

  “I’m sorry,” I stammered as I stepped back. He had that stupid grin on his face. I lowered my shoulders and sighed.

  “Bad dream?” he asked me. He was holding a candle for light, and, somehow, I didn’t catch my hair on fire. “I couldn’t sleep either.”

  I shrugged. “Something like that.” He leaned to assess my emotions—like he often did—and I caught sight of his mark through the open top of his collared shirt. “How is it?” I eyed his chest.

  Carefully touching the sigil, he gave a breathy, uncertain laugh. “Well, it still stings.”

  “Yeah,” I sympathized. “Mine still hurt when—” and I paused. My mind sent me a vivid flashback of the moment I had first met Lorcan in that moldy, rotten cabin.

  “When we first met,” he finished for me. I nodded. “Will you take a walk with me?” he asked. I nodded again. “I don’t know what to say to my brother,” he confessed. We were walking through the halls and around the castle just to pass the time. There seemed to be no destination.

  “Maybe you should just give him a little time.”

  “It isn’t right,” Lorcan shook his head. “I didn’t mean for this.”

  “Sometimes nature has other plans,” I offered.

  Lorcan grinned. “Manon knew,” he said. “She asked if we wanted to know before the funeral, just to prepare.”

  “You both said no?” I slowly came to a stop. The prospect of someone knowing ahead of time must have weighed heavily on Tristan’s mind. If Manon offered him the vision, to see who gained the mark, then it meant there was a possibility it wouldn’t be him. I understood his nervousness a little more now.

  “I was afraid to know that I had truly given my birthright away, but, at the same time, I couldn’t rightfully ask nature to be gracious.” We started to walk again. The light in his candle flickered in the breeze as we passed a window. I could see the moon as a sliver in the lower part of the sky. It was lighter outside now, but the atmosphere was silent. “I didn’t want the moment to be spoiled; it meant too much either way.”

  “You know, I haven’t seen your crown,” I nudged him as I laughed a little. And just like I’d expect, Lorcan faced me with a freshly grown crown of ice. “Okay, that’ll do,” I smiled.

  “I can hear her,” he said to me after we rounded another corner. The daylight was coming from the other side of the castle now, so this hall was quite dark. I looked down and felt my belly. “She’s strong.”

  “She doesn’t move much,” I said.

  “She’s alright,” he assured me. “Elliot must be proud.”

  “He’s… he’s having a hard time,” I crossed my arms tight as a whip of wind came over the land. Through the open stone areas that lined the hall we were now pacing down, the breeze came through at hit my face with a chill.

  “Darling, you must not let your emotions control you right now,” he was eying me dead on. “You alone can cause massive storms. But she,” he glanced at my belly, “well, we don’t know yet what she’s capable of.”

  “Okay,” I agreed with a nod.

  A little further through the hall, and he asked me, “Will you be my guest at brunch this morning?”

  “There’s a brunch?” I asked as we had made our way to the third floor. We were close to the great balcony, the one that overlooked the vast lawn out front of the castle. Lorcan stepped up ahead, set down the candle, and then opened the French doors to reveal the rising sun.

  “The brunch I’m holding for all the members of the royal family.”

  “I’m not part of the family, though,” I said as I brushed back my hair with my fingers. Lorcan was stepping out to the balcony, leaning over the railing as he eyed the land. I followed him as I felt the shiver return to my bones.

  “You’re my guest,” he repeated. Looking back at me as he squinted, he smiled and said, “I’d like you to come.”

  “Today?”

  He nodded.

  “Okay,” I smiled and leaned at his side. “But I should leave right after. She’s growing too fast here.”

  We both stood there and breathed in the wind as the sun rose a little higher. Lorcan stood tall once the sun was over the horizon and took in the energy of the star. His orbs came into view, and I realized it was the first time I had seen them. Cool blue, translucent and oddly shaped, the orbs multiplied within seconds. But there weren’t bunches of them like there were for Tristan and Caleb on my last visit. Instead, there were enough to encircle him in a modest view of dazzling lights. The orbs were so similar to ice that it was tempting to reach out and touch one to see if it was cold. Some had jagged edges, some were oblong, and all were different from the rest.

  “I wish you knew how this felt,” he murmured after the orbs disappeared. I laughed like a child because I actually did want to know. I was so fascinated by all the magic in my newfound universe that I couldn’t wait to experience it all. “You’d never see the world the same.”

  “I bet not.”

  “My King,” a knight approached the doorway. Lorcan turned his full attention to the man. “Your mother has arrived.”

  “Your mom?” my brow lifted. Lorcan nodded at the knight, who then left the hall. “Wasn’t she… dangerous?” I sort of whispered.

  “Oh yes,” he confirmed. If he thought she was dangerous, then I wasn’t ready to meet her. “But she should be here when I take my throne.”

  Right. Thrones, kings, crowns.

  “Um, I was wondering,” I spoke up as we stepped back into the castle. “I haven
’t seen Iliana anywhere. Do you know why she isn’t here?”

  “She’s gone to Frostmoor,” he told me. “She left several days ago, before my father passed away.”

  “Why?”

  “She’s helping your dad bring Dylan home.”

  “Are they ready to break the bond?” I can’t believe my aunt didn’t tell me about this. “Who else is coming?”

  Lorcan laughed a near-silent chuckle. “Your curiosity never ceases to amaze.”

  “Why didn’t anyone tell me?”

  “Because my brother and I needed you here,” he revealed. “We must show our people that the dragons aren’t our enemies. That we can work together.”

  I was glad to hear him say that, but I didn’t want to miss seeing my brother.

  “I know, it’s a bit selfish,” he grinned.

  “If you’d told me that, I would still have come,” I sort of lied as we started off down the stairs.

  “Come now, darling,” he got me right away. “We both know your brother is more important than me or mine.”

  I sighed in a smile. How could I say he was right without being rude? But then again, it was what he expected.

  “You’ll be home before they return with Dylan,” he assured. “Iliana is there to offer a distraction. None of Markus’ men will believe she’s helping your cause.”

  “You don’t think so?”

  He shook his head. “Unfortunately, her life as my bride has left a stain on her credibility.”

  “At least you unbound her,” I shrugged. Back on the second floor, I could see the hall that led to my room. I continued to think about Iliana, and then about Samira. “Will you marry Samira someday?” I stammered through the words. I had no idea how to ask a king about his private life, at least not in a proper way. Or maybe it was best that I didn’t ask him personal questions at all. Either way, I was too curious.