Storm Princess Saga- the Complete Series

by Everly Frost

  “Which is why…” The grin drops off his face as he turns to the others, drawing his sword. “Anyone who wants a piece of her goes through me first.”

  As I leap forward to pluck the dagger out of the ground, I break the stand-off. Rhydian’s five lackeys charge toward me but Baelen’s plan is as clear as the moss sparkling on the stones beside those beautiful trees. Jasper and I are the not-so-helpless bait. Baelen and Sebastian are the predators. The other males, well, they’re the mush in between.

  I pick up the dagger as the first male reaches me. It looks like Rhydian is cunning enough to let someone else take the first shot so he can figure out my weaknesses.

  I’m pleased to discover that my new weapon is made entirely of steel. Electricity shrieks through my arm, lighting up the dagger, my hand, and my torso. The high-pitched crackling sizzles a warning and Jasper’s smart enough to side-step and stay out of harm’s way. He allows the attacking male through but that’s fine with me. I greet my attacker with a snarl and an armored foot to his face. The shimmer husks lining my armor may as well be iron cracking across his cheekbone.

  He stumbles backward and I give him one last chance. Don’t get up.

  The fool jumps back to his feet, dagger drawn, aiming for my shoulder. My lightning illuminates his face as he flies toward me.

  He’s aiming high so I drop to my knees, driving my dagger into his left thigh. His scream is drowned by the shriek of electricity. I use my free fist to thump his other kneecap. I can’t hurt his knee through his armor, but I push both his legs out from under him, using his forward momentum and the strength of the storm to flip him bodily over me. He lands with a crash onto his back.

  By then, Jasper fights two other males and Baelen and Sebastian are battling another four. Rhydian is still keeping at a distance from all of them. He’s not the only one staying back: another male hasn’t moved from his position right at the end of the arena. None of the other males are bothering with the loner and I don’t have time to identify him.

  Before my attacker can recover, I slide across the floor, banging against the shield that protects the dais, and bounce off it. On the dais, the Elven Command jumps backward. Elwyn Elder moves so fast that he knocks over his chair. The hourglass wobbles and one of them grabs it before it smashes.

  I drop to the male’s side, holding the dagger in both hands, ready to plunge it into his heart. I recognize him now. “Garrett of the House of Glory. Do you yield? Or would you rather bleed to death?”

  He clutches his thigh, trying to stop the flow of blood. His efforts aren’t doing him much good. He’s lost his dagger and I draw his sword before he can reach for it too. Now there are two blazing weapons in my hands. I keep at the barest safe distance from him so that I don’t electrocute him.

  Despite the threat in front of him, all he can do is stare beyond me to the Elven Command where the powerful males watch from so close by, protected by their spellcast shield. Gideon Glory takes a step forward, his robes floating around him. The fury on his face is like a dagger itself.

  The penny drops. Each member of the Elven Command has a grandson in the arena. All of them are fighting against me right now except for Sebastian Splendor.

  I shout at Garrett, “What did your grandfather tell you? What did Gideon Glory order you to do?”

  The male looks at me and it’s like he’s seeing me for the first time. “You weren’t supposed to be here. They wanted to force you out.”

  “I got that already. What else?”

  He sucks in a breath, groaning and in pain. “They ordered us to take Commander Rath out by any means necessary. They don’t want him to win.”

  Behind me, a male crashes across the arena and Baelen thunders after him, loosing arrows at the same time.

  I swing back to Garrett. The Elven Command would always have a Plan B. “And what if I came to the fight? What then?”

  “May the ancients forgive me, my grandfather told me to take your power. The first male you touch will have your power. He told me… He ordered me…”

  I throw my head back and scream. “He told you a lie. My power will kill you.”

  I slam the dagger into the earth beside his neck. Lightning leaps from my hands and zaps his skin. It’s the lightest touch, but he flinches, scooting away from me to escape the deadly energy.

  Despite the threat, he shakes his head. “No, it’s true. He said you’re different. You’re not like the other Princesses. He said that one of us has to claim you and…” His eyes flick to the fighting males. “It can’t be Baelen Rath.”

  The Phoenix told me I was something else. Now I know why that sounded like a really bad thing. When I nominated myself for the trials, the Elven Command was unprepared. But while I was away on the mountain, they had the chance to think and plan. They had time to change the rules—because I changed them first. I opened that door and now they’re running through it.

  Baelen told me he was a target. Now we both are.

  “If you truly believe that you can take my power, then do it.” I hold out my bare hand to him. It’s bathed in energy that crackles at the edges, leaping beyond my palm in strikes and flashes. “Take my hand.”

  He reaches for me even though it means letting go of his wound. I can’t believe it. He actually believes what his grandfather told him. He’s going to try…

  At the last moment, lightning leaps out and bites his hand. He cries out and snaps his hand back, nursing it and trying to press his wound again. His face is seriously pale. He’s lost a lot of blood and won’t last much longer at this rate.

  I say, “That is what happens if you touch me. Now tell me that you yield.” I slam the dagger into the ground again, closer this time. “Tell me that you yield!”

  “I yield!” His voice cracks as his eyes meet those of his furious grandfather. “The House of Glory yields.”

  Inside the shield, Gideon Glory is like ice. He turns his back on his grandson. I jump to my feet and slam my fist against the shield. Lightning travels through it, bending and wobbling it so much that Gideon flinches back in alarm. If I struck it hard enough, I’m sure I could break through, and he knows it.

  I shout at him, disgusted that he turned away from his injured family member. “Come and get your grandson before he dies.”

  Then I take both weapons and spin to the battle raging behind me. Of the four elves who were fighting Baelen and Sebastian, only two remain standing. They’re both large males and they’re putting up a solid fight. The other two have dragged themselves to the side of the arena, badly wounded, seeking safety away from the battle.

  The two fighting Jasper haven’t given up so easily.

  I launch myself at one of them, shoving him aside. I’m careful not to touch him with my bare hand, connecting only with his armor, but I allow electricity to flow through me for a second before I release him. He shudders, shaking as he collapses to the ground. He’s alive, but he’s not in good shape. I’d love to zap the other male too, but I’m angry enough to kill him. Despite the chaos, the Elven Command ordered that nobody can be killed. If I break that rule, they’ll force me out of the trials. Which is exactly what they want.

  I throw a glance back at Jasper and the male he’s now fighting one on one. Jasper is light on his feet and the other male is tiring fast. At least it’s now a fair fight.

  I step over the fallen male on my way to Rhydian, advancing on him behind his protective boulder. From across the room, Baelen suddenly increases his attack strategy against the male he’s fighting. Every angry frown he casts in my direction tells me he wants me to stay with Jasper, but what Garrett told me drives me on. The males were ordered to take Baelen out of the competition. I’m not going to let that happen.

  I round on Rhydian. “You don’t get to sit this out waiting for everyone else to yield.”

  “Just waiting for you to come to me,” Rhydian says without budging. “I figured you would eventually.”

  I grip the dagger in one hand and the sword
in the other so tight that my knuckles turn white. I circle around the boulder to find that he’s clasping a dagger in each hand.

  I’m three feet away from him when he suddenly shouts. “Now!”

  There’s a flicker of movement from the side of the arena closest to me. The two males who crawled over there have nocked arrows into their bows. I frown, not sure what they’re aiming at because they don’t seem to be pointing at me. They let loose and the arrows fly harmlessly to either side of me, easily missing my torso, but too late I realize their real targets…

  My hands!

  No! Pain explodes through my fingers as the arrows nick them. The wounds are only grazes but I can’t stop the reflex…

  My fingers open. I drop both my weapons. The lightning spirals away from me, draining away without the steel to harness it. The Storm’s power goes with it.

  I drop and stretch for the steel I need, but Rhydian’s on me already. He plows into me, using his shoulder and brute force to knock me to the ground, following me down to the ground. I land beside the boulder, the grass cushioning my fall so I don’t crack my head. With my body behind the rocks, I can only just see the rest of the arena.

  The other males’ attack strategy suddenly changes. The males fighting Jasper and Sebastian launch themselves forward, tackling both of my friends and shoving them as far away from Baelen as they can. The two males with bows and arrows leap to their feet, shooting at Baelen as they run at him. Now there are three males circling Baelen and their methods turn savage. Swords and daggers drawn, they bait him with cuts and nicks, but their real target seems to be his lower spine—his injury.

  I have to get to him, but Rhydian slams me down, his body a dead weight against mine. I jam my hands against his armor, pushing as hard as I can. I have to get him off me but I can’t let him touch me. Not just because of what the Elven Command believe but because I couldn’t stand it if he did. I can’t let Rhydian Valor be the first male to touch my bare skin.

  Only my hands and head are exposed. I have to keep them away from him, which means I can’t hit him.

  Lucky me. Those don’t seem to be his target.

  He slices the dagger down the armor between my breasts, attempting to cut it open but the Elyria web doesn’t break. He tries again, ramming the blade against me.

  I scream as my chest burns, grabbing his armored sleeve to stop him. His blade can’t cut through my armor, but the pressure against my chest is unbearable. Every blow forces the spider web into my torso, tearing against my ribs and the soft skin between them.

  I kick my legs, trying to throw off his balance, but his hip rests against my groin, one knee keeping him balanced and straddling my right leg. He’s turned far enough to the side that I can’t kick any part of his body that matters.

  “Get off me!”

  His big face snarls down at me. “Not until I get what’s mine.”

  “You insult my House!”

  “Elves in the House of Mercy were bred to be insulted.”

  I retort. “The House of Valor once had integrity. Where is your honor?”

  His lips draw back into a vile grin as he rams the knife at my chest, over and over in rapid succession, harder and faster. My attempts to hold his arm back are useless—gravity and his sheer weight give him the advantage. Agonizing pain thumps through me with every blow and every rip against my skin.

  It’s too much. I scream, pushing at him, hitting back, thumping his arms and side, trying to make him stop. But the awful truth is that I can’t stop him without touching him—my bare hands on his. He rams the knife at me again, his sweat dripping down onto my face, and suddenly… suddenly… I understand…

  He’s trying to force me to touch him. He wants me to hit him, skin on skin. He wants me to grab his hand—even to head butt him. Anything that means I willingly touch him…

  Sobs tear out of me at the awful realization. “No…”

  I press my hands against his armor where it’s safe, squeeze my eyes shut, turn my face away, and close my mouth against the screams forcing their way into my throat. I have to bear the pain. I have to hold out long enough for Baelen to get to me. I won’t connect with Rhydian’s skin.

  I won’t do it. “I won’t do it.”

  “Yes, you will.”

  I open my eyes. My head is turned to Baelen. I can’t see Jasper and Sebastian, which means they’re still cornered, or they would have either run to Baelen or run to me.

  Baelen is covered in blood. Two males lie on the ground at his feet and I can’t tell if they’re alive or dead. He roars at the third, taking the brunt of the male’s knife in his shoulder as he slams into him, choosing to allow the blade to strike him in an effort to get close enough to grab his opponent’s arm. The other male screams and I can only guess what Baelen did—dislocated his arm, maybe ripped it from the socket. His opponents may have been trying to bait him but they’ve well and truly released the Rath monster now.

  Rhydian says, “He won’t get to you in time. You will submit to me.”

  My torso is on fire. Rhydian’s hateful face is inches from mine. If he can’t make me touch him, he’ll simply drop his face to mine, a single kiss to drain the life out of me. But what’s most agonizing is that he’s right. It will take Baelen ten seconds to reach me across the distance and Rhydian can take what he wants in far less time than that.

  I’m sobbing but I don’t care that I’m showing emotion, because I have to release this fear and anger somehow as Rhydian’s face lowers to mine…

  Another male appears above him, his outline watery through the tears and sweat in my eyes. A voice I don’t recognize says, “No, she won’t.”

  A club swings down, arching toward Rhydian’s head. It knocks him right off me, rendering him unconscious at the same time. He drops like a dead weight off to the side, but his legs are still tangled in mine. I scramble away from him, kicking hard, as the male above me quickly drops the club, nocks an arrow into his bow, and shoots the final male still fighting Baelen. The arrow lodges in the male’s leg. It’s the only opening Baelen needs to knock him out with the hilt of his own sword.

  I press up against the boulder, kicking the last of Rhydian’s weight off me, as the new male drops to his knees, finally coming into focus.

  Eli Elder makes his movements slow, leaning back on his heels and folding his hands in his lap, making it clear he doesn’t intend to come any closer.

  I’m almost too bruised to speak. My throat aches and my lungs… oh my lungs burn so badly. “Eli?”

  “I wasn’t going to fight.”

  “It was you… standing at the back.”

  He nods. “But I couldn’t let that go on. I wouldn’t be alive if it wasn’t for you.” His eyes are crystal clear blue, his eyelids tapered at the edges like the rest of his House, his mouth set in a serious line. “I was tired and I was about to let go.”

  I frown, not sure what he’s talking about. Then I remember the mountain. He was the one who lost his grip and almost fell to his death.

  He says, “I heard your voice and it saved my life. So I want you to know that I don’t agree with what the Elven Command is doing—what my grandfather’s doing. He’s always been difficult, but he’s never been like this before. Something’s got a hold of him. He isn’t himself. None of them are.”

  “Get away from her!” Baelen appears, chest heaving, sword bloody, pointing it at Eli.

  Eli rises to his feet, his hands splayed out to show he isn’t a threat. He holds his bow lightly between his thumb and forefinger, letting it swing to make it clear he doesn’t intend to use it. “If you need my help, Princess, call on me. Until then…”

  He drops his bow to the floor and raises his voice. “The House of Elder yields!” He nudges Rhydian with the tip of his boot. “So does the House of Valor. May it regain its dignity in times to come.”

  He retreats to the side as Baelen drops to me, his hands swilling over me but never making contact. “Are you hurt?”

 
I don’t know how to answer. Pain thrums through every nerve in my chest but I need to peel off my armor to know how much damage has been done. What scares me more is the way Bae’s hands shake. He’s either in shock or he’s moving on pure adrenaline alone. Beneath the blood, his face is far too pale, his movements erratic. He’s lost a lot of blood and everything screams at me that he needs help but he won’t seek it until I answer him.

  “No, I’m fine,” I whisper the lie and I know he doesn’t believe me, but what else can I say? I’m not dead. Rhydian didn’t touch me. Those are the important parts.

  Up on the dais, the last grain of sand slides through the hourglass and a trumpet blares. Five males are still standing. The two that cornered Jasper and Sebastian both jump away from them, hands raised, their job done. The others are either unconscious or have already yielded.

  Other than the final note of the trumpet, the arena is deathly silent. Up high, in the viewing levels, female elves stand on their feet, watching me, watching Baelen, watching the Elven Command. One of the females, dressed in fine robes, suddenly strides forward, her movements graceful but full of power. The others make way for her, making it clear she’s a female of high position. As she approaches the shield, I recognize her as Sebastian’s mother from the House of Splendor. Teilo Splendor, one of the Elven Commanders, is her father.

  In one swift move she slams her fist against the shield, holding it there, glaring at her father. Her mouth moves but I can’t hear what she says. Then she turns and strides from the arena. One by one, the other females follow her, thumping their fists against the shield before turning their backs on the Command.

  Sebastian and Jasper appear at my side. Sebastian’s expression is filled with regret and sadness. “My mother’s right. We don’t treat our females like this.”

  My only concern is for Baelen. “Help Baelen, please. I don’t know what they’ve done to him, but I’m worried.”

  Sebastian catches Baelen as he sways, working with Jasper to lift Baelen to his feet. It takes both of them to shoulder his weight, neither of them quite as tall or broad in the shoulders as Baelen is.