Black Moon Draw

by Lizzy Ford

  Self-assurance. She didn’t doubt her ability to command the medallion; she owned that shit. She had a man as powerful as the Shadow Knight at her feet, devoted enough to give her all the magic in the world. A woman like that doesn’t hide in trees like I always have.

  A woman like that gets what she wants, even the sexy Knight of a non-existent world.

  I close my eyes to concentrate. There are patterns when the medallion sparked to life: when I’m in mortal danger, when the Shadow Knight is, and when we both are. Danger is the common thread, but it’s not clear why it operates sometimes and not at all other times.

  Danger and . . . what? There’s got to be another factor. With the arrogance of a man who rules a kingdom, the Shadow Knight seemed to think provoking me was the right way to force the magic to work.

  I think there’s something different at work here. A shield to protect me, a shock to prevent him from losing his head, flattening an army, a lift for both of us out of the falling tower.

  “What’s the common factor, LF?” I demand of the author that stranded me in this world. There’s no writing on my hand to help me out. “Something I said? Something I did?” I think back to those scary situations. They’re somewhat fuzzy, given the amount of emotions and adrenaline that were in my blood at the time.

  “Extreme emotion. Instinct,” I murmur to the black Heart in my hands. Fear? Anger? Were those the keys? It seems like a horrible way to devise a weapon, like linking a nuclear bomb to a cranky three-year-old and hoping it doesn’t go off. The image of the battle queen lingers in my mind. “I didn’t have a chance to second guess myself.”

  The Shadow Knight’s declaration from the tower returns to me, his claim that I needed to abandon my self-pity and appreciate who I am. Could he have been hinting at what the key is without knowing it?

  That sounds so stupid. I can almost hear Jason say the words.

  But he’s not here, and this is my story, not his.

  “I didn’t beg it to work. I commanded it,” I say with an uncharacteristic dramatic flourish. My face grows warm and I glance around to make sure no one heard. “Why the hell not?” I respond aloud. “Why am I never good enough? They built an entire legend around me here!” There’s nothing wrong with my thoughts or feelings or looks. It’s a lot to swallow after a lifetime of hiding myself away, but this is my second chance.

  Heroes are normal people who do extraordinary things, the battle queen had said. Not always because they choose to, and rarely because they want to. But you know what? When it matters, they take a step they never thought they’d take.

  Is this my step? Can it be as corny as learning to believe in myself? In not being afraid to take a chance, seize control of my life, and live?

  I opened the door to my soul last night with the Shadow Knight. Even if I didn’t let him enter, the entrance remains open, my emotions raw, and my newfound determination to try to live on my terms hovering in the doorway.

  The writing on the medallion flares to life.

  I almost drop it. “That’s it, isn’t it?”

  A tingle of electricity tickles my fingertips.

  “Maybe I should show Westley to be sure I’m not going crazy.”

  The light goes out and the tingle vanishes.

  With a startled laugh, I turn the medallion over in my hands. “You only work because . . . what? I believed in myself for a fraction of a second?”

  A flutter of warmth runs up my arm.

  The magic of a kingdom, collected over a thousand years, in the palm of my hand. The key to the Shadow Knight winning his battle and saving his world. And all I have to do is turn off those negative thoughts that make me feel bad about myself and believe.

  “If you’re that strong, then do something amazing. Bring me a cup of coffee.” I wait. Nothing appears before me and my brittle hope starts to wane. Self-doubt returns. “No! I believe in me!” With a quick look around, I thrust out my arms the way televangelists do on the television, squeezing my eyes closed. I’d do anything for a cup of coffee, even suspend my self-consciousness and turn off my thoughts.

  And then I smell it, the rich scent that wakes me each morning, compliments of the coffee pot with a timer my mom got me for my last birthday. Leaping to my feet, I frantically look around, ready to overturn everything in the tree for a chance at some coffee.

  I find the mug near the fire at the center of the tree, tucked between two logs.

  “Omigod!” I almost squeal and carefully pry the mug free. I breathe in the familiar dark scent, a small piece of heaven, and then venture to take a sip.

  It tastes perfect. Completely, utterly perfect and fills my chest with warmth. Holding it up like Golem did the One Ring, I take a moment to worship my favorite drink.

  “My precioussssssssssss!” I say in my best Golem voice.

  “Witch?”

  Realizing someone is watching me, I look towards the entrance of the tree. “Just . . . ah . . . coffee.” Embarrassed, I lower the mug and clutch it to my chest.

  Westley is back, one eyebrow lifted in either curiosity or confusion, a hooded form beside him. “You are well?” he asks.

  “I’m amazing,” I reply.

  He doesn’t seem to know exactly how to take that either. “May we enter?”

  “You’re the captor.” Clearing my throat, I sit down and breathe in the scent of coffee. For the first time since arriving here, I feel a little less out of place, though thoroughly humiliated right now, too.

  But it worked. By either pretending to believe in - or at least not doubting – myself, I was able to use the medallion. The happy warmth inside me I attributed to coffee isn’t fading.

  So this is what self-confidence feels like.

  The tension of Westley’s face fades for a split second before he moves into the tree trunk. The person with him is a woman, judging by the gown she wears beneath a long cloak in the kingdom’s earthy brown.

  “I wanted you to tell her what you told me,” Westley starts, the fleeting amusement gone. “About the curse.”

  “Tell who?” I ask curiously.

  “Me.” The woman with him pushes off her hood.

  “Disney Princess!” I exclaim before I can stop myself.

  She exchanges an uncertain look with Westley.

  “They caught you, too?” I ask.

  “Not exactly.” Pink floods her cheeks.

  I wait for an explanation. Westley clears his throat, the same coloring creeping into his face.

  Forbidden lovers. Her broken betrothal to Westley, who had been unable to try to win her back because he was a prisoner of the Red Knight. My first thought sends fire coursing through my blood.

  The Shadow Knight isn’t engaged anymore.

  Yet this is more than two lovers who have reunited after a year apart. In the awkward silence, I recall what Westley told me about how his father had assistance outsmarting the Shadow Knight.

  “Tell me you didn’t betray him,” I say to the gorgeous woman, understanding settling into the base of my belly.

  “He would not listen!” she replies instantly. “I told him to leave Brown Sun Lake be, to consider an alliance rather than war. He insisted and I could not bear the idea of losing someone I loved.”

  “You’d rather jump on the bandwagon and kill the Shadow Knight?”

  “‘Tis the last resort. I made the Desert Knight swear to spare him and those of his people not in his armies, in exchange for telling him how to end a thousand years of war.”

  My coffee suddenly isn’t enough to keep my mood up.

  “I did not understand the depth of their blood feud,” the princess adds. “My brother warned me, but I did not listen either. The Desert Knight has no intention of sparing him. ‘Twas foolish hope.”

  “So you told the Desert Knight how to outmaneuver the Shadow Knight,” I murmur.

  “We both did,” Westley says, taking her hand. “I learned much from the Red Knight about the defenses of his neighbor. With my love’s acce
ss to Black Moon Draw’s inner workings, we were able to piece together a plan for defeating the Shadow Knight and present it to my father.”

  “The goal being to end up together again and stop the war.”

  They both nod.

  Young love is so stupid. As I look at them, I can almost see me, when I was head over heels for Jason. We met when I was nineteen and he was twenty-four, three years ago. From the beginning, I would’ve done anything for him, no matter what the cost ended up being to me. I liked the things he did and wore the clothes he said made me look good. I tried to be the person he wanted me to be without really thinking about who I wanted to be.

  I can count the times he complimented me on my hands. I starved for a kind word from him and received mainly criticism, no matter how hard I tried.

  These two are the same age I was, but I get the feeling they don’t have my hang-ups. Of course, they were naïve idiots for thinking they could stop a war between the two feuding kingdoms without anyone getting hurt. Sometimes, situations can seem harmless, like letting Jason control how I felt about myself, but escalate quickly and lead to disastrous results.

  These two are totally giving off a Romeo and Juliet vibe, and I realize how far I’ve come from the naïve, enamored nineteen-year-old who thought her world revolved around someone like Jason. What did I find appealing about being constantly criticized? And why was I sad, as opposed to relieved, about not being married to him?

  It’s hard to think poorly of the couple before me for trying to be happy and ensure everyone else was, too. They erred out of good intentions.

  In doing so, they condemned the world to the curse. What would I have done, especially if I didn’t fully understand the impact of my actions? Would I have similarly betrayed the ruler of a kingdom for Jason and possibly destroyed the entire realm?

  Yes, says a little voice inside my head.

  But not now. Not ever again.

  “I mean this gently, but I think you might’ve destroyed the world,” I say finally. Oddly enough, I’m not angry about it. If anything, I sympathize with them for wanting to be loved so much, they forsook everything else.

  Westley says nothing. The princess’s eyes widen.

  I share with her what I was told by the warrior queen about the curse – and the only way to end it.

  She says nothing when I finish. For a long moment, she stares at me, frozen in horror, before she turns and flees.

  “Are you certain?” Westley asks me once more.

  “Yes.”

  “What we have done cannot be undone. There is no time for his armies to march here, no way to dissuade my father. He smells victory and he will pounce.”

  I wait, almost able to hear him thinking. With no real idea of the scale of war we’re talking about, I have nothing to contribute.

  “The only thing we can do is return you to him,” Westley says quietly. “And hope you can use your magic to defend the kingdom.”

  Tapping the medallion, I fight back the tiny voice that’s telling me I have a hand in destroying this world because I can’t be one hundred percent certain that the magic will work for me the way it should.

  “You risk angering your father,” I murmur. “You’d both be in danger.”

  “We can go to my brother.” The princess stands in the entrance, a tortured expression on her face. Even with eyes reddened from tears, she’s more beautiful than any actress or model I’ve ever seen.

  “You sure about that?” I ask uneasily, recalling what happened the last time Westley saw the Red Knight.

  “We may not have a choice,” Westley says. “If we can smuggle you to him, he can reach the Shadow Knight without the challenges we would experience.”

  My heart flip flops at the idea of seeing the Shadow Knight again then falls to my feet when I realize how bad the situation is. We have today and tomorrow to save the world – and no idea how to do it.

  “I’ll fetch him.” The princess leaves once more.

  The yearning on Westley’s face as his gaze follows her almost makes me want to roll my eyes.

  “Are you guys . . . bonded yet?” I ask.

  “Aye,” he whispers. “Last year, in secret, the day we met.”

  Love at first sight. I hate that in a book, LF. “I can’t believe you masterminded this whole thing.”

  “We put everyone in great danger.”

  “Everyone was in great danger already. You just raised the stakes a little.” Maybe I should be angry, but I’m envious of how they feel for one another. Deep enough to try to stop a war without knowing how much harm they caused. “Can we trust the Red Knight to help?”

  Westley’s hesitation tells me what I need to know. “We have no choice.”

  My thoughts return to the Shadow Knight. He must know by now how screwed he is. Is he sad? Desperate? Furious?

  My heart aches for him and the people of this world, who can’t know how important he and his war are. They don’t understand that his heart is bigger than his sword, that everything he’s doing is to prevent a much worse fate from befalling his people. He alone is waging a war on a thousand year old curse.

  Not alone. At least, not anymore. I will find a way to help him.

  “Whatever it takes, Westley. We have to help him,” I say urgently. “Please.”

  “Fetch your cloak. The Red Knight is here,” he says somewhat reluctantly.

  “That’s why you aren’t excited about him. He’s part of this, isn’t he?”

  “He did more than tell me about the Shadow Knight’s defenses,” he admits. “I dare not discuss it with you.” He’s troubled, his gaze stormy.

  I swing on a cloak beside the uncomfortable bed I tried to sleep in last night. The teen looks ready to change his mind about helping me. I can’t imagine what’s going through his head, the enormity of his guilt.

  “You’re doing the right thing,” I tell him, approaching. “Really, Westley.”

  Pain flutters through his expression and I imagine him thinking about betraying his father.

  I can’t even pretend to know how that feels.

  He pulls my hood up and leads me out of the tree trunk.

  We’re at the edge of the foothills on the side of the mountains opposite the emerald hills. The pass through the peaks is heavily guarded by the Desert Knight’s men, and the foothills and forest area around me jammed with warriors.

  If the Shadow Knight was traveling with only a scouting party, the Desert Knight had taken no chances and brought his entire army. I’ve never seen so many people in one place and hurry to follow the teen boy.

  Ducking my head down, I grip the medallion with one hand and heft up my skirts with the other.

  The gray midmorning is cool, the breeze fragrant with the scent of the ocean. As we walk through the sprawling encampment, I start to notice the amount of men in White Tree Sound cloaks increasing.

  The Red Knight’s whole army is here. My gut grows heavy and I struggle to understand this man’s role in all this. At times seemingly allied with the Shadow Knight, at times neutral and now, working with the Desert Knight.

  The man is more confused than I am.

  “Son.”

  Westley stumbles and I suck in a breath.

  His father approaches, followed by two others. There’s a smile on his face. In full daylight, his features appear less severe – and yet just as hard.

  “Are you prepared to lead our men to victory?” the Desert Knight booms, clapping his son on the shoulder.

  “Aye, father,” comes the soft response.

  “Then you and your princess shall be bonded once and for all.” The Desert Knight glances in my direction.

  I barely breathe, heart hammering. Hopefully, this is one of those near misses, where he doesn’t realize who I really am and walks on by and we continue onward. Westley and I can laugh about how close our plan came to being ruined later, when we’re at a feast for the victory of the Shadow Knight, right before I tackle the sexy warrior and drag him into
bed.

  The idea makes my inner thighs tremble and my blood flare to life. Maybe the vision of Atreyu’s naked body on top of mine is what makes me miss the Desert Knight’s question because suddenly, everyone is silent and staring at me.

  Ripping my thoughts out of the ultimate fantasy, I glance towards Westley in the hopes he can discreetly guide me. He’s pale, bordering on alarmed, and I realize something has gone wrong.

  The Desert Knight glances between us before stepping forward and snatching my arm. He yanks the hood off and glares down at me.

  “Boy, what have you done?” he all but bellows towards his son.

  Westley is speechless, fear on his features for the first time since I’ve met him.

  “Nothing,” I say quickly, mind racing. If I’m caught, Westley can still get word to the Red Knight and plan with him to help the Shadow Knight. “I . . . uh, I put a spell on him, one that forced him to aid me.”

  That does it.

  “Stand back!” The Desert Knight releases me like I’m a hot potato, face flushing with anger while his eyes drop to the medallion. The men with him scramble away while Westley remains in place. “You said you could not use it!”

  “I only can every once in a while. It just so happened to work this morning.” I lie once more. “I used it on him to help me escape.”

  Drawing a knife, the Desert Knight snatches my neck, dragging me onto my knees. “Release him, witch, and I will not gut you right now!” he growls.

  Not sure what he expects a magical witch to do, I pick up the medallion, close my eyes, and toss one arm out to my side. After a few seconds, I open my eyes. “He is released,” I say as solemnly as I can, loudly enough for the teen to hear.

  The Desert Knight twists to see over his shoulder.

  I wave Westley away.

  He obeys and backpedals until he’s standing between two of his father’s men.

  “You will not go near my son!” The Desert Knight turns his attention back to me. “I know how to kill you. I planned on waiting for my victory to be complete, for your Shadow Knight to watch you die at my feet!”