by Everly Frost
“At first I thought I should be on the battlefront,” he says. “But Baelen Rath helped me see that building a new home for the children is just as important as the fight ahead. We have to look to our future with hope, not fear. He gave me a team of builders—gargoyles he could have easily sent to the border instead. I never would have gotten so far without them.”
“I’m grateful for your work, Iago. I can’t wait to see your progress.”
As the firelight flickers and begins to die, Senturi approaches me, dropping to a knee, his wing spikes gleaming in the light the same way they did the first time I saw him. He is very solemn. “Supreme Incorruptible,” he asks in front of everyone. “May I have permission to speak with my grandson?”
I cast a quick glance at Jasper. He is sitting with Elyria snuggled close to his side, but Senturi’s question causes a hush that grabs his attention. He raises his head from the kiss he dropped on her forehead, peering intently at the older gargoyle.
Senturi stands and turns. Recognition flashes instantly across Jasper’s face. He’s quicker to see the resemblance between himself and his grandfather than I was.
I say, “I believe you have much to talk about.”
Beside Jasper, Elyria is in a state of awe, her mouth dropped open and her eyes wide. “Jasper, you are descended from Sighted Ones!” Happy tears leak down her cheeks before she can stop them and my ladies crowd toward her, asking if she’s okay. She accepts their hugs and their concern, smiling and crying at the same time. “This has been a very emotional day.”
Jasper rises to his feet, eyeing the older gargoyle’s spiked wings and the chain of talons he wears around his neck. The two males stand head to head, their facial structure and the color of their eyes so similar despite the very different color of their skin and the fact that Jasper doesn’t have wings.
Senturi begins, “Greetings Jasper, son of Grace. I am Senturi of the Outlier Clan.”
At that moment, Adalie runs over and tugs on Senturi’s hand. “Is this my uncle, Papa?”
Jasper startles, studying her and the way she uses her power unwittingly when she looks up at him. She breaks into a sweet smile.
Senturi grins from her to Jasper. “And this little one is—”
“Adalie,” Jasper says for him. “I somehow know… that her name is Adalie.”
Adalie beams at him.
Senturi says, “She has wanted to meet you for a very long time. As I have.”
Jasper gives his grandfather a sincere nod and gestures to the seat nearest to Elyria. “Please, we should talk.”
Everyone gives them space to get to know each other and I spend the rest of the evening mingling with my friends and ladies until eventually, they all start heading to bed.
Before I leave, the old Priestess draws Baelen aside, beckoning him to lean down so she can whisper something into his ear. He gives her a curious glance and then a formal nod. He promptly spins on his heel and leaves the room.
He is already gone before I can ask what’s going on. “Baelen—?”
The Priestess hurries over to me. “Please don’t worry, Supreme Incorruptible. The Wrathful One has something he needs to take care of, but you do not need to be concerned.”
The last time Baelen tried to take care of everything, he almost pushed me away. I’m reluctant to agree, but it doesn’t look like I have much choice. “Oh. Okay.”
She waves to someone at the side of the room and the Head Cook approaches me with a bowl full of berries that makes my mouth water despite the big meal I just ate. “We have prepared a special dessert for you, Supreme Incorruptible, in honor of… uh… your return to us.”
As I take the bowl, he quickly adds, “And before you ask: yes, the kitchen staff all enjoyed a hearty meal earlier this evening.”
I smile. He knew exactly what I was going to say. It’s been a long time since I enjoyed dessert. Even Grayson didn’t eat sweets. As I take the first mouthful, I’m suddenly aware of Elyria’s gaze, her mouth pursed into a wondering “oh” before she quickly returns her attention to Jasper and Senturi. They are the last to leave before I finish eating and stretch my legs, handing the bowl back to the Head Cook with my thanks.
“It is our honor, Supreme Incorruptible, to serve you on this night.”
The old Priestess walks with me to my room. Before we reach it, I admit to her, “I don’t know your name.”
She seems surprised. “I am Dorothea of the Prime Clan.”
“The same clan as Badenoch,” I exclaim and then point to my headpiece. “The Prime Heartstone.”
“The most passionate heartstone.” She shows her dimples as she smiles and her rainbow-colored wings glisten.
We enter the corridor to my room and I head toward the end, but she stops me before I reach it, her bony old arms snaking around me in a sudden hug.
I return it, surprised. “Hmm?”
She grips both my arms and turns me to the right—toward a closed door that is closer than mine. She gestures, palm out toward it as if she wants me to go in.
I raise my eyebrows at her. “That’s Baelen’s room.”
“Yes,” she says simply. “It is.”
“But he’s in my room.”
“No. He isn’t.”
My eyes widen, remembering her whisper to him earlier.
I’m standing in front of Baelen’s bedroom and she isn’t blocking my way. “May I… go in?”
“I will not stop you. But the choice is yours—and yours alone.” She withdraws with a cheeky grin. “Although… you did already eat the royal wedding berries so you may not be able to back out now.”
She skips her bony ass along the corridor and disappears around the corner before I can say anything else. I press my palms against the wooden door.
This is Baelen’s room.
With Baelen’s bed.
And Baelen.
I don’t wait another moment, pushing on the handle, swinging it wide. He stands in the middle of the room, in front of the bed, naked to the waist, water droplets dripping from his hair onto his broad shoulders and down his massive chest. His head is down, his strong hands loose at his sides. I remember the first moment I saw him inside the Storm Vault’s anteroom. His head was down then too; he’d dropped to a knee and held his heartstone out to me, offering it to me even though it might mean his death.
I close the door behind me and the sound of the lock clicking makes him look up. The intensity of his gaze sets my body on fire, but he doesn’t move. He won’t move. Everything from this moment is my choice.
I cross the distance, craving his hands and mouth, his strong arms, but instead of touching him, I whisper, “Wait for me, Baelen. I won’t be long.”
As fast as my wobbly legs can carry me, I race to the bathroom, turn on the shower, and let the water run over me, my body already tingling with the electricity in the air around Baelen. If he wanted to, he could blast this door down and whisk me into his arms, but he won’t. He waited an eternity for me while he slept. He waited seven years for me while I was the Storm Princess. He will wait again because I asked him to.
Drying myself off, I remove my headpiece before I return to the bedroom, wanting nothing on my body when I go to him. He hasn’t moved from the spot where I left him on the other side of the room, except to half-turn, one corner of his mouth lifting into a sexy smile as his gaze runs from my dripping hair all the way past my naked parts to my toes.
I clear my throat, my voice a low rasp. “If I’m going to come to your bed, Baelen Rath, I think you need to be in it.”
Without speaking, he removes his clothes and lies himself down, his big body filling most of one side, never taking his eyes off me. My heart thunders in my chest but I have no doubts.
As I lie down beside him, I inhale the wild air around us, his power igniting mine, and I welcome the storm we’re about to create in his room. In his bed.
When my lips find his, I finally understand why the gargoyles and my Storm Command came to see m
e tonight. Not because they knew I was going to make my choice, but because we only have a few nights left.
In five days we will go to war. We will fight for our lives and our future. We will fight for our world and our freedom. We have to love while we can, live while we can, share our stories while we can, fight for each other while we can.
Because there might not be a tomorrow. We might not have any more days.
I open my heart and share every part of it with Baelen, giving him all of myself, accepting every part of him in return, a whole world of love while we have it.
33. Marbella Mercy
A blood moon rises the night before war begins. Incorruptible’s light shines crimson across the mountains of my kingdom and all the way across Erawind. I find Baelen outside, alone on one of the balconies, studying the sky, his sword at his side. His armor and mine wait in our room. Everyone else has left for the border except the gargoyles and the Phoenix who will guard the springs. All of the children and the elderly have been evacuated to Mount Denrock, the safest mountain and furthest from the battle.
Baelen and I will travel when the moon is at its highest to join the army on the border. We will arrive before daybreak when the battle will begin. We slept most of the day, curled up against each other, knowing that in the final hours before war, we will not be able to sleep at all.
I take his hand, “Promise me, Baelen.”
He meets my eyes, his own a blazing green.
“Promise me you will be alive at the end of this battle.”
He crushes me up against him, kissing me hard, but he makes no promises, leading me silently back to our room where we help each other into our armor.
Baelen dresses in armor that belongs to the House of Rath: armor that has no weaknesses, that nothing less than sorcery can pierce. That is what I am afraid of today: the five sorcerers we will face, including Grayson. Baelen’s storm power will be equal to their power, but he is not invincible like I am. When we are done dressing, every inch of our bodies is protected: Baelen is in finely molded metal plates decorated in red and black markings; I wear my suit of shimmering Elyria web overlaid with golden segments.
After Baelen hands me my sword, my daggers, my bow and arrows, I click Cassian’s bone lash onto my belt. I spent the last two days practicing how to use it under Llion’s watchful eye to make sure I didn’t take my own head off.
Baelen and I stride to the nearest balcony, where he hooks an arm around my waist and takes control of the breeze. I could fly myself—I know how—but I can’t fly as fast as Baelen and I want him close to me right now. The air pressure increases before I step into his side. He supports my head with his big hand and places a lingering kiss on my lips before he lifts off.
I press my face against his chest as the sky rushes past us, lightning shrieking through me as he speeds up and across Erador. It’s not the same as Grayson’s instant transportation. Flying with Baelen brings all of my senses alive, calling to the storm inside me, lightning and thunder crackling and crashing through me, my storm power and my heartstones existing in harmony.
When the border appears, we fly over the gargoyle army amassed across every access point, up and down the mountains, half of the gargoyle force on the ground, the other half in the sky, thousands of gargoyles ready to defend our home. Baelen doesn’t slow as much as I expected, heading upward in an arc before we drop, slamming down with a massive crack onto the top of the highest peak while dark storm clouds curl across the face of the blood moon and lightning streaks behind us, flooding the ground for miles in brilliant, crackling light.
I turn to face the elven army camped at the base of the cliff. We’ve landed right on the border. Right in front of their main force.
Thousands of elves are suddenly alert, heads upturned. They are massed on the gentle slope up to the base of the mountain. The mountains here are not as high as further inside Erador, only a thousand feet, so it’s easy to see the large banners flying above the elven army. They stand in neat squares, each one representing an elven House. There would be thirty of them if the House of Mercy were present. It makes me angry to see that the minor houses form the front line, including Jasper’s House of Grace, while the major houses take up the back rows and will only have to fight if the minors fall against the gargoyles.
I lean into Baelen as my gaze sweeps the elven army. “I could use my heartstone power and wipe them all out right now. I could stop this war.”
He answers me with a smile. “I could burn the earth they stand on and turn them to molten ash. But we won’t do either of those things. Because the elves are our people too.”
I can’t contain my anger. “Look how the Elven Command has put the minor Houses in greatest danger at the front.”
“They don’t care about our people, Marbella. They never did.”
My heart lifts when ten thousand gargoyles raise their voices, roaring a challenge into the night that booms across the distance. There are ten thousand more hidden in caverns all along the border, ready in case any elves get through the initial defenses.
A single answering form flies upward from the elven force.
Grayson lands on the cliff’s edge, keeping his distance from us, his olive green eyes shuttered, his emotions closed off. The storm light flickering around us highlights his pale hair and the golden runes across his chest. He still isn’t wearing a shirt and he is unarmed—not that he needs weapons.
In the distance, the sun threatens to rise. The daylight will bring death.
I say, “Turn back, Grayson. Take your army and go. Stop this war.”
“It’s too late for that, Marbella.”
I dare to close the gap, knowing that I’m the only one he can’t hurt. Even Baelen will have to keep his distance. “It’s never too late. We don’t have to be enemies.”
His response is a growl—a gargoyle growl—but he doesn’t hide its origins this time. “Today I will fight the gargoyles I am descended from. I will fight the elves who have betrayed their own people. I will fight the storm.” He acknowledges Baelen before he pinpoints me. “And I will fight the female I want.”
Baelen thrums beside me but he’s far too smart to slug Grayson in the face.
“But at the end of this day, I will get what I want.” Grayson spins toward the cliff, ready to descend to his army again.
Right before he is about to leap from the edge, I call out, “You didn’t kill your mother.”
His mask falters. He half-turns. “What?”
“She knew too much. She was Gideon Glory’s first kill.”
Rage floods his face. He seems to forget everything as he advances on me, a force growing around his fists, deadly malice building in his eyes. “You will not tell me lies!”
I remain steady, knowing that I alone can kill him. “I’m not afraid to tell you the truth, Grayson.”
Inches away from me, he searches my eyes, his breathing coming hard and fast. The air between us crackles as my lightning builds, ready to defend myself if I have to. At the last moment, his eyes widen as he realizes… I have my storm power back. I got it back after I escaped from him.
He inhales sharply, whispering, “You’re the one with the power to kill me.”
“Yes.”
A painful laugh escapes his mouth. “Why did it have to be you?”
He backs away from me, one careful step at a time.
I call to him, “Ask Elwyn Elder why they bound you. Ask him, Grayson. Only the truth will save us today.”
“Us?”
I sweep my arm in the direction of the gargoyles and then the elves. “All of us.”
He arcs an eyebrow at me then shakes his head, exhaling. “We will see.”
He takes a step off the edge and drops from view.
We are minutes away from war.
On the next cliff top to my far right, my friends are dressed in Rath armor, awaiting the elven horde. Indira and Erit are stationed there along with Roar and Gilda. Baelen unlocked the main vault u
nder the Rath mansion and distributed all of the Rath armor to as many gargoyles as possible. To an onlooker, they appear to be defending the mountain, but actually, they’re protecting Elise.
On the cliff top to our far left, Llion, Liliana, Welsian, and Arlo have taken up position, protecting Talia. Each cliff top is a hundred paces deep and wide, and Talia and Elise are standing as far to the back as they can. They spent the last few days comparing spellcasting and deep magic, sharing their knowledge with each other, and they have a plan today.
Gargoyles from the Outlier clan form our first line of defense in the sky. I nod across the distance to Senturi, giving him silent thanks, as he and the other Outliers coast the air in a row beside us that stretches far in either direction from my left to my right.
Jordan, Sebastian, and my Storm Command soon join me on our wide cliff top, along with Jasper and Elyria. They are also dressed in Rath armor, their bodies gleaming, and Talia has painted my ladies’ cheeks with runes. Elyria refused to go to the safety of Mount Denrock with the others but I know that Jasper will protect her. Everyone on this central cliff top has been with Baelen and me since the beginning. It feels right that they will fight beside us today.
“We’re ready,” Jordan says. She was my friend and guide the whole time I was the Storm Princess, looked out for me, protected my body and my heart.
“Thank you, Jordan.” My throat suddenly constricts. “Please stay alive today.”
In the final dying dark of night, a hundred flying creatures approach from Erawind. Winged stallions soar toward us, along with giant eagles, each of them bearing an elven rider.
At the front of the swarm, three golden griffins carry the Elven Commanders: Elwyn Elder, Pedr Bounty, and Osian Valor, each of them hunched and twisted, their bodies misshapen and their skin gnarled. Priscilla rides an eagle with white-tipped wings, its wingspan stretching far wider than the others.
They stop and coast the air only ten feet away. Their eyes have turned blood red. Full of death. My stomach turns. How many lives did they take in the night to give themselves enough power to fight us?