by LJ Rivers
“Not on my watch, false king.” Taryn pointed his spear in Auberon’s direction. “This is Avalon, and—”
“—and I am your king, Taryn of Wenhaven. You can either accept it or wait until I erase all your Crimson soldiers. Your queen, the late Morgana, refused my generous offer for a peace treaty, and by doing so, she chose war.”
He motioned with his arm at his overpowering number of soldiers; there were still more joining, and even the path up by the mountainside was lined with Sorcerers and Changelings. Among them was Gemma. My lips curled into an involuntary sneer as I locked eyes with her. If I got the chance, I would end her.
“Ruby,” my father said, lowering his voice to a conversational level and forcing me to turn my attention back on him. “Be reasonable. Behind us, in the streets of Avalen, I have ten thousand troops. Your Junipers were easy pickings, all wallowing in their own grief, too blind to see what was coming. The battlements are manned by my people now. Outside the city gates, ten thousand more await my signal to attack. There is no way you will be able to save your people, unless you surrender.” He took a few steps towards me and held up his palm.
Taryn and two other Crimsons moved in front of me once more, crossing their spears. “One step further, Sorcerer, and you lose your head.”
Auberon seemed mildly amused and focused his gaze on me. “Save these fools, Ruby. You know they cannot harm me.”
Something new had taken residence in his already dark eyes. A blackness unlike anything I had ever seen before.
“You’ve really allied with the darkness, haven’t you?” I whispered.
“You know I’ve never been bound by normal Sorcery.” Blue flames swirled around his feet like a fiery cloud of doom. “Don’t let the vain dream of a dead queen colour your decisions. My powers are too much for you to handle.”
He took another few steps, raised his hand and pushed the three Crimsons aside as if they were nothing but annoying strands of cobweb. The Sorcerer king, more powerful than any Magical in history, stood two feet in front of me, lowering his chin to bore his eyes into mine. He looked taller than I remembered from only a couple of weeks earlier. And stronger.
Somewhere behind those black diamonds lay the remnants of Gabriel Kaine, Lucius Abel, and all other pseudonyms he had taken on while roaming the earth. There were the remains of the man who had once seduced my mum and become my birth father. And I couldn’t help but think there must be some tiny slivers of the boy, too. The one Morgana had told me about, who had visited her and played with his mother and aunt in the fields. But all these versions of him were locked away, and King Auberon of Mynydd Dewin had thrown away the key. For good.
I had only one option left.
“Not a single life more,” I said. “Not one.”
Auberon nodded. “Agreed.”
“Then I accept.”
His eyes grew a shade darker, which in itself was an impossibility, but nevertheless they did. “No.”
“What do you mean, no?”
“Say it, Princess. Say the words.”
I swallowed hard and glanced around. The scene was like a tableau from some medieval history assignment. Nobody moved. All eyes were on my father and me. I looked at Charlie inside Prime Diwella’s force field. Then at Jen, who had taken the aggressive stance of a wolf about to jump its prey, her eyes fixed on Gemma. My attention drifted to Brendan, who met my gaze. “Don’t do it,” he mouthed.
Finally, I looked at the resigned face of the late queen’s closest advisor. Pullhelli seemed to have aged twenty years in a matter of seconds, making him look past dead. His shoulders slumped, and two glowing balls of fire slowly retracted into his hands, as if to underline the defeat.
I turned back to Auberon and straightened my back. “I, Ruby of Morgana, heiress of Morgana of Fay and successor to the throne of Avalon, surrender to you, Auberon of Merlin, on the condition that you spare the lives of the Avalonian people, and aim to rule over them fairly and justly.”
“Impressive, and quite a bit more than I had expected,” he said in such a low voice that only I, and possibly Jen and the closest Shifters, could hear him. “I, Auberon of Merlin,” his voice now boomed, “King of Mynydd Dewin, accept your surrender, Princess.”
He turned and held out his arms, the long, black sleeves swaying like wings. “Soldiers of Mynydd Dewin! Arrest the princess and her followers. Kill anyone who resists. You, Fae. Drop your force field.”
Diwella looked at me, and I gave her a nod. She shook her head, but retracted her magic. The moment it disappeared, Charlie hurried over to Jen.
A bone-chilling squeal ensued from above. Six blurry figures emerged from behind the mountain and descended on us. Hondo was in front, with Amalli and Xavi on his flanks.
“Sorcerers! Ready to set the beasts ablaze!” Auberon commanded.
“Hondo, no!” I screamed.
He was only a hundred yards away now, closing in fast.
“Flee and save yourselves,” I commanded.
The giant griffin broke hard to the right and upwards.
“Now!” Auberon bellowed.
A battery of fireballs lit up the sky like it was midnight on December 31st. The griffins followed Hondo as he flew almost vertically along the mountain wall. Fireballs crashed into the rocks, exploding on impact.
“Force fields!” My order echoed over the area, and within seconds all present Fae, myself included, had spread a magical blanket over us. Thousands of rocks and pebbles came down like an apocalyptic rainstorm.
I glared at my father. “Let them go. Stop the fireballs!”
“Very well. Hold your fire!”
A final globe of red struck Xavi’s tail, cutting it in half. The burning piece thumped onto a slab of stone while the griffin disappeared over a ridge along with the others.
“Now, where were we?” My father’s voice had turned silky smooth, like the snake he was. “Oh, that’s right. I believe I was about to ascend the Avalonian throne. Yeats?”
“Here, my king,” said the Satyr, and stepped out from behind a row of soldiers by the entrance to the grove. Alongside him walked Puck, head turned down.
No! He had gone back!
“Bring the Princess and her earthly friends before me in my aunt’s old throne room.”
“Your Majesty?” someone called.
“What is it, Meera?”
The Dodgeress that had killed the Crimson soldier stood next to Diwella. “The old Goblin escaped.”
“Who?” Auberon asked.
“Goblin, Your Grace. And his son, I reckon. Oh, and the Crimson Commander along with them.”
“How?”
“Some herbs, I guess.”
“You guess?”
Meera cleared her throat. “He used the confusion when the griffins came, and some kind of potion. Big puff of smoke. The two Goblins grabbed the commander’s arms, and then they were gone.”
Auberon chuckled. “In that case, they deserved to escape. I assume it was Morgana’s cropkeeper who did the trick. Halwyn, if I’m not mistaken, Princess?”
I nodded. “And his son, Wadyan, one of your former slaves.” If I had thought bringing up taking his slaves away from him would have stung, I was sorely mistaken. And what did it matter now that he had everything he had wanted—a direct path to the Enchantium core at his disposal.
“Oh, well. The Goblins of Crochan will soon return to my service, all of them. Their crops yield five times what my best cropkeepers can produce.” He gestured at his people. “Yeats. Gemma. The throne room in half an awr.”
“Yes, My King,” they both replied.
Auberon extended his arm. Thin tendrils of shadows rose from the ground, wrapping around him. As he disappeared into the darkness, the soldiers moved closer, tightening the circle around me and the other guests and soldiers.
I had lost.
The image of my father on Morgana’s throne was a reality. Yeats led the way through the giant double doors into the throne room, where blac
k-clad soldiers lined the path to the podium.
Behind me, Gemma’s foul breath clung to my neck, as she held the tip of a curved dagger between my shoulder blades. Brendan, Charlie, and Jen followed, all surrounded by more armed guards.
“My King,” Yeats said as he stopped at the foot of the podium. “I bring you Princess Ruby and her earthly friends.”
“Subdue her.” Auberon waved a hand, leaning back on the throne.
Yeats clopped over to a wooden crate. He pulled on a pair of thick leather gloves that lay on top of it, and opened the lid. Blue sparks flashed from inside it, and I braced myself for the familiar feeling. Yeats reached down and picked up a black, three-foot-long mydredd snake. It hissed at him and spat electric sparks, but he was protected by the gloves.
I was not, and as the Satyr wrapped the slimy creature around my wrists, the numbing sensation filled my veins like a shot of sedative. In seconds, I could feel the magic in my core fade to a distant hum, and I knew it would not react to my summoning it.
Yeats grinned. “To use an earthly expression, young Fae, game over.”
“Gemma, come join me,” Auberon said.
Meera appeared out of thin air beside me. Gemma nicked the back of my neck. I winced and felt a trickle of warmth on my skin. It wasn’t deep, just enough to draw a few drops of blood. The two women exchanged places, then Gemma strolled to my father’s side.
He patted the seat beside him, inviting her to sit in the seat that had been mine whenever I joined Morgana on that podium. “Princess. Step forward.” Auberon leaned on one of the armrests and waved at me. “Let’s talk about this predicament you find yourself in, father to daughter.”
“I’m not your daughter,” I said through gritted teeth.
“Your blood says otherwise.”
I flinched as the mydredd sent another surge of electricity into my arms. “If it’s that important to you,” I grunted, “you can have my blood.”
“Now, now. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Come closer, please.”
Reluctantly, I ascended the three steps and stood before him, close enough for him to touch me if he wanted to.
“Listen, Ruby,” he said in a low voice. “Look at your situation. You have lost. Avalon is mine, just as I said it would be. I have no choice but to imprison you, you understand that, right?”
I shrugged.
“But it doesn’t have to be like that. Like it or not, you are still my daughter, and my heart has nothing but love for you.”
Bile was building in my throat.
“Please. I beg you, Ruby. I, the King of Gwyn Fanon, am begging you.”
He motioned with his hand to the side. Two men carried a high-backed chair up to the podium, placing it next to the throne. I caught Gemma’s scowl, a hint of satisfaction running through me.
“Sit by my right side, Ruby, and we can rule this realm for ages. Together. We can rebuild Avalon and Mynydd Dewin again, and maybe even bring the Light back.”
“Almost two weeks ago,” I said, not in a low voice, “I watched the Avalonians display their true nature. They were willing to sacrifice their lives to free the slaves from your mines. And they did it out of love for the Gwyn Fanonian people. Not for power, not for glory. Love and loyalty, Auberon.” I glanced at the empty chair next to him. “If I sit in that chair, it means I recognise and approve of your kind of rule. The kind that is based on fear. What would separate me from the slaves in your mines then?”
Sadness spread across his face, but I held my ground.
“That chair is just as much a prison as the dungeon below. But in the dungeon, at least I’ll know I’m still a true Avalonian.” I spun on my heel and went to stand with my friends.
“I will not repeat my offer, Princess.”
“Good,” I said. “Then I won’t have to reject it again.”
“My heart is crying, but I will try to respect your decision.” He sat straight and seemed to shake himself, ridding his mind of what I believed was actual sorrow.
There was love in his heart, of that I had no doubt, in some twisted depth of his core. I just didn’t want any part of that love. It dawned on me then that, despite the severity of the situation, it felt like a ton of rock had been lifted from my shoulders. The last ounce of love I had had for my birth father was gone. I was to become a prisoner, but part of me was finally free.
Something stirred inside me. My instincts reacted as if it was the mydredd shocking me, but the surge never came. This was different. Someone was here. In the shadows.
I glanced up at my father, but he was ignoring me, discussing something with Yeats, most likely telling the Satyr which cell in the dungeons I was to live—and die—in.
A dark veil fell before my eyes, shading the vision of my father, the throne, and the whole room. I was being pulled into the shadows.
“Wait here,” a voice whispered in my ear.
Rowan?
In a matter of seconds, he had snatched Jen, Brendan, and Charlie, too, dragging them alongside me into the blob of darkness.
“Let’s go.” He reached out to move the shadow sphere.
We floated through the room, zigzagging between the armed guards, none of whom noticed us. How did he hide us from so many Sorcerers? And how the fudge did this youngster know how to manipulate the shadows this way, walking in them with four passengers?
“Stop them!” Auberon yelled just as we slipped through the open door at the far end of the throne room.
Rowan waved his hand, and the door slammed shut. He made another motion, and tables, chairs, heavy vases with withering flowers, and even a marble column with a bust of some former king or queen, flew through the air and slid into a pile against the door.
“It won’t hold for long, but it will buy us valuable seconds.” Rowan pushed the sphere of darkness down a flight of stairs to another set of double doors. We moved fast, faster than on foot, slipping from one shadow to the next.
Behind us, the sound of objects crashing into the wall as the doors to the throne room burst open made my bones rattle. Footsteps and loud shouts followed. We couldn’t possibly outrun all my father’s soldiers.
And where was Rowan taking us?
Chapter Twenty-Four
I stumbled out of the shadows, bumping into someone. The two of us spun round to face each other while I tried to gather fire in my palms, only to remember I was still being subdued by the nasty snake slithering around my wrists.
“Taryn?” I gasped, grateful to see a friendly face.
“Your Highness.” He regarded me with concern.
“How did you get here?”
“Halwyn.” A cut ran across his aquiline nose, and his face was covered in bruises and splatters of crimson. He gripped a sword in his hands, the blade dripping with blood. “He dropped me off by the gates. The Goblins said they would take off on Halwyn’s boat and they asked me to go with them, but I couldn’t leave.”
A group of black-clad men lay sprawled on the ground behind him, and two familiar figures hovered over them. Anwinar and, to my surprise, Aranos, the centaur who had put me in a dungeon on my first day in Avalen. We might have got off to a bad start, but his allegiances had been to Morgana, and now, it appeared, to me. I nodded at them in acknowledgement and returned my gaze to Taryn. His usually tidy armour was drenched in grime, and his hair was a tousled mess, far from the shining knight he had looked like at the Essencebearing no more than a couple of hours earlier. His eyes wandered from mine, and he stiffened. Grabbing my arm, he stepped ahead of me, as if to shield me from some immediate danger.
“Traitor!” he bellowed, glaring at someone. “Get away from Lady Carolina at once.”
Rowan.
Charlie spread her arms out in front of Rowan, mirroring Taryn’s protective stance. “He’s on our side.”
I narrowed my eyes at her. Not this again.
“I’m sorry, Ru, but it’s true. He had to play it safe, but he’s been on our side the entire time.”
Rowan folded a hand on her shoulder, shaking his head. “I realise you might find it hard to believe, Princess.” While he sounded earnest, I didn’t much care for the edge in his voice when he used my former title. “I’ve infiltrated Auberon’s forces to gain his trust. It started the moment he set foot in Nidra, my home village. I promise, I only want to help.”
“He saved us just now.” Charlie latched onto his arm, her eyes pleading. “Give him a chance to explain.”
Brendan stood behind her, giving me a shrug.
“We don’t have time for this,” Jen hissed. “We’ll deal with him later. Auberon will have sent people after us.”
“He should have come himself, that weasel,” I shouted at the walls. We were standing just on the other side of the moat from the castle. “You could have come through the shadows after me, you coward. Come on! I’m right here.”
“Red!” Jen growled. “Hate on your father later.”
I snapped out of my oncoming tirade. What use was it yelling at a wall, anyway? And Jen was right, of course. We couldn’t stay. Auberon had my throne now, and he wasn’t about to let that go. Not even for me. I had lost before the battle had even truly begun.
“Taryn,” I said. “Where to?”
He frowned, scowling at Rowan. “Anwinar, Aranos, you watch that Sorcerer with eagle eyes.”
“But we’re centau—” Anwinar started to say when Taryn cast him a look that could have crushed stone. “Yes, Commander.”
The eight of us turned away from the castle, with Taryn leading the way.
“Wait.” I halted. “Where’s Kit?” He had just been there, hadn’t he? When did I see him last?
Jen linked her arm in mine and began moving, Brendan walking close on my other side. “We can’t look for him. I know you have some special connection to that cat, but there’s no time to find him now.”
“Besides,” Brendan interjected, “that cat’s got skills, so I’m sure he’s fine.”
I wanted to turn back, to find my cat, my Faeguard, but instead I allowed Jen to guide me down the cobbled street and into the city.