by Donna Grant
His head jerked to Balladyn. “Who?”
“Anson.”
“I want to talk to him.”
Balladyn started to turn away. “Follow me.”
“Wait,” Ulrik said. He walked farther inside the room to Muriel’s form and squatted down beside her. He put a hand on her cheek and closed his eyes.
He found her soul easily enough. When she saw him, she smiled and took hold of his hands. “I’m sorry,” he told her.
“Don’t be. It was Mikkel. He tried to get your secrets from me, but I told him nothing.”
She didn’t owe him anything, especially that which had cost her her life. “Thank you.”
“It’s time to stop playing games with him, Ulrik. He’s coming for you. Show him you’re the King of Silvers.”
“I will.”
“Farewell,” she said and dropped his hands before walking away.
Ulrik took comfort in the anger that cooled into righteous indignation. Muriel was right on all but one account. The game was just getting interesting—and it was his move. He stood and retraced his steps to Balladyn.
They walked in silence through the palace for a while before the Dark asked, “You were able to speak to her?”
“Aye.”
“I didn’t stop Mikkel.”
He wasn’t surprised to learn that Balladyn had witnessed the murder. “If you had, he would’ve returned later. This was a strike against me.”
“So the war between the two of you has begun?” Balladyn asked as he took Ulrik down back passages to keep away from others.
There was a part of him that wondered if the Fae was leading him to a trap. Their alliance was a shaky one at best since neither trusted the other, but he had to take a chance.
“It began the moment Mikkel showed himself to me and told me of his intentions. I knew in that second that I had to move my plans forward, as well as kill him,” Ulrik explained.
“He’s your family. After sending your dragons away, he’s all you have left.”
“Blood doesna always make family.”
Balladyn descended one last stair before walking down a hallway to the door at the end. “I’ll get Amdir away,” he whispered.
Ulrik hid in the shadows as Balladyn entered the room and had words with Amdir, who stormed out a second later. Balladyn followed the Dark to the top of the steps.
Ulrik made his way into the lab and came to a halt when he saw Anson slouched against the wall with his arms chained over his head and his body healing from blows of Dark magic. Their gazes met.
“Hello, old friend,” Ulrik said.
CHAPTER FORTY
Anson blinked, unsure if it was really Ulrik before him. Amdir’s magic hadn’t just burned away his skin and muscle, it had affected his mind.
Ulrik walked closer and came down on his haunches. “Can you hear me?”
“Aye,” Anson replied and blinked his eyes to try and focus them.
“Some things have changed. I have all of my magic.”
Then that meant Ulrik could shift. Anson grabbed the chains and tried to sit up straighter. He didn’t know why Ulrik was telling him this, but Ulrik didn’t do anything without reason.
That left Anson with a knot of worry in his gut. “Have you attacked Dreagan?”
“No’ yet, but when I do, it’ll be Con I’m after.”
Anson shook his head. “We were all a part of what was done to you.”
“It was Con’s decision.”
“It took all of us to bind your magic.”
Ulrik’s face tightened. “And only one word from Con to banish me from my home.”
“So you want Amdir to torture me for my part?”
Silver eyes flashed with aversion. “I had nothing to do with you being taken.”
Anson had wanted to look into Ulrik’s eyes. Now that he was, he could see the truth of his friend’s words. “And the Druid?”
“No’ of my doing.”
“Devon,” Anson said, swallowing. “The Dark have Devon.”
Ulrik was shaking his head. “I doona believe she’s here.”
“They wouldna have left her behind,” Anson insisted.
“The Dark wanted you.”
“She’s my mate.”
Ulrik issued a loud sigh. “Anson, Kyvor has been watching Devon for a long time.”
What? That couldn’t be right. “Why?”
“Devon is … special.”
Anson jerked at his chains, his heart pounding as his mind fought against what Ulrik was telling him. “What do you mean?”
Ulrik looked over his shoulder and hurriedly said, “You can help me find her right after I release you.”
To Anson’s shock, Ulrik tried to break the chains. But no matter how much magic Ulrik used, the chains wouldn’t budge. It was the sound of approaching footsteps that halted them.
“Go,” Anson urged.
Ulrik stood. He raised his right arm enough that his sleeve shifted. Anson saw a flash of silver before Ulrik touched it and disappeared a second before Amdir returned with Balladyn.
“I heard voices,” Amdir stated.
Balladyn looked around. “There’s no one else in here.”
Anson didn’t know what to think of Ulrik’s visit or even how he’d gotten there. It almost appeared as if Balladyn had helped him, but surely that wasn’t the case.
“Never mind,” Amdir said angrily. “Leave so I can get back to my work.”
Anson braced himself for the next round of Dark magic as Balladyn walked away. Instead, he heard Devon. She was calling his name, the pain in her voice his undoing.
He fought against the chains, straining to get to his feet and reach her. And through it all, he heard Amdir’s laughter. That only drove Anson to fight harder.
The thought of his Devon being touched by the Dark enraged him. He was supposed to protect her, to keep her away from anything that could harm her.
She was too precious, too beautiful of spirit to let anything as foul as the Dark breathe the same air as her. He thought of her blue eyes, so bright and so warm. If the Dark touched her, she would be changed.
It wouldn’t alter his love for her. Nothing ever could. Devon was the only one he ever wanted to hold in his arms. She was the only woman he would ever need to satisfy his body.
Even if she didn’t accept the magic or him, it wouldn’t change his feelings. His heart was bound to hers with unbreakable ties—the kind that would stop time itself.
Anson barely felt the pull of his chest and arms still healing from the torture. He kept yanking on the chains, his bellow of fury growing.
There was only one way to save Devon. He had to shift.
Each time he tried, the magic of the chains prevented it. Yet he felt the Dark magic begin to break. And with that, he let the rage consume him, shouting Devon’s name until there were no more words, only a roar.
Anson looked to Amdir after he’d shifted and let loose a burst of fire that engulfed the Dark where he stood. His head swung to the door when he heard someone approaching.
The room confined him. He wanted to spread his wings and straighten. He pushed against the ceiling that kept him bent. Dust and dried mortar rained down upon him. He halted as soon as a form appeared in the doorway.
“Anson,” Rhi said as she raised her hands to him. “You have to stop doing that.”
No. He was going to destroy the palace brick by brick if he had to.
“Stop!” she shouted.
But he was beyond hearing.
* * *
Devon gripped the knife Rhi had given her and stood beside Con as they walked through the Fae doorway. Though she couldn’t see anything. Apparently, only a Fae could see the doorways.
There was no doubt that a single step had taken her into another world. Devon could hear Rhi talking about making the doorway herself and hiding it. Whatever that meant.
If only Fae could see the doorway, and one of them hid one, how did they ever fi
nd it again? It was a conundrum, and one that Devon couldn’t afford to think about at the moment.
“Doona leave my side,” Con ordered.
Devon looked around at the dark gray stone. The palace was dark in lighting as well as decoration. But it was the feeling of evil that seemed to seep from the very stones themselves that made her shiver. “Not going to be a problem.”
Now that she was in the Dark Palace, she was more than a little terrified. It had taken her and Rhi an hour to convince Con to allow her to come. It was Rhi’s statement that Devon was crucial to finding Anson that had turned the tides.
Though Devon had no idea how she could help, she was glad to be there. Yet it was the odd way Kinsey and Rhi had kept looking at her that unnerved Devon. Kinsey was sure there was a reason Kyvor had chosen to follow her.
And Devon was positive those at Kyvor were just pricks and had singled her out because they could.
Eventually, Con had relented and allowed Devon to accompany them, but he wasn’t happy about it. She’d seen firsthand what the Dark could do to Anson, and she wanted to be there to help.
“This was a mistake, bringing Devon,” Con whispered.
Rhi’s lips flattened. “We need her.”
“How?” Con demanded.
Rhi’s silver gaze met Devon’s before she shrugged. “I’m not sure yet.”
Well, that certainly didn’t give Devon any confidence. The longer she stood in the Dark Palace, the more she agreed with Con. What could a non-magical mortal do in such a situation?
Not a damn thing.
Devon swallowed, doing her best to keep a tight rein on the anxiety that threatened to cripple her. While they walked the dark halls of the Fae, a few of the Kings were in Dublin, attempting to draw the Dark to them.
Once the Dark took the bait, the Warriors would come out of hiding and join in the battle. Meanwhile, the Druids were gathered at a rock formation on an isle that she hadn’t heard the name of. Evidently, it was a source of magic that could amplify theirs.
With the mates and other Dragon Kings guarding Dreagan, that left only her—with no magic—Rhi, and Con. Against a palace full of Dark.
This was a very bad idea.
Then she thought of Anson, of his midnight eyes as he gazed at her with longing. He’d held her, comforted her, and protected her as the entire nightmare had unfolded. He’d walked into a trap—just for her.
The least she could do was swallow the sickening dread and be there for him.
“Remember what I told you,” Rhi said to Con before she vanished.
It was going to take Devon more time to come to terms with the idea of people being able to teleport. That was one magical power she wished she possessed. It would make things so much easier.
“I can take you back,” Con said.
Devon shook her head. “I’m here for Anson. Besides, I’m immune to the draw of a Fae.”
“That doesna mean they can no’ hurt you.”
She looked at the King of Kings. “That’s why you’re with me.”
One side of his mouth lifted in a smile. “Cheeky.”
“Shall we find Anson?”
They hadn’t gone a hundred yards before Rhi was suddenly there. “I found him. I think he’s gone insane.”
“Tell me,” Con ordered.
Rhi held out her hand, and a sword appeared. “He’s shifted.”
“He needs to calm down,” Con said.
Rhi looked her way. “He needs Devon.”
“Take me to him,” she said.
Con put out a hand to stop Rhi from grabbing her. “No’ until he’s composed.”
“She may be the only thing that can soothe him,” Rhi argued.
“In his rage, he could harm her. Trust me. He’ll never forgive himself if that happens.”
Rhi rolled her eyes. “Fine. I’ll see what I can do.”
When she was gone once more, Con looked Devon’s way. “I can hear him. He’s below us.”
“We’re going to get him out, right?”
“I’ll no’ rest until I do,” he vowed.
* * *
Anson felt something slam into him. He stopped thrashing his head as wooden beams fell to the floor around him, only to break apart. He looked at Rhi to find she was glowing and flinging magic at him while she yelled his name.
He knew it was dangerous when she glowed, but his sole purpose was to get to Devon. She needed him. And he needed her.
He growled when Balladyn came up behind Rhi and wrapped his arms around her. Anson couldn’t attack the Dark without hurting Rhi, which left him unable to help his friend.
Rhi shouted something that had Anson shifting back into human form. As soon as he did, the ceiling above him caved in, crushing him beneath the weight.
He used his magic and strength to blast away the rubble before shaking off the dirt. Then he started to advance on Balladyn.
Only Rhi quit glowing. And Balladyn placed a kiss on her cheek as she rested her head back against his shoulder. The shock of it went through Anson like lightning. There was no denying that the two were lovers.
“You shouldn’t have come,” Balladyn told Rhi. “The entire palace will be here shortly.”
Anson fisted his hands. “Let them come.”
“Stop,” Rhi told both of them as she moved to stand between them.
Balladyn glared at him, his nostrils flaring. “If you want to end what Kyvor is doing, then you need to find Harriett. She’ll lead you to the Druid.”
“Why are you helping us?” Anson asked.
“I’m not helping you.” The Dark’s red eyes moved to Rhi. “I’m doing this for her.”
Rhi smiled before cupping Balladyn’s cheek and kissing him. Anson couldn’t look at them. It was wrong to see Rhi with someone else when she belonged with her King.
Anson squeezed his eyes shut when he heard Devon’s scream. Her fear consumed him. He dropped to his knees as he threw back his head and bellowed, “Devon!”
He had to get to her, to help her. Vaguely, he heard someone shout his name. Was it Rhi? He wasn’t sure since his mind was on Devon.
Anson opened his eyes and saw Rhi battling Dark Fae, but Balladyn wasn’t anywhere in sight. Just as Anson was about to join Rhi, Ulrik’s words came back to him.
“Devon is special.”
He hadn’t elaborated on just what that meant, but it gave Anson an idea. Normally, Anson liked to have his quarry in sight before he possessed someone. He’d never attempted it otherwise, but drastic action needed to be taken.
There was no way of knowing what the Dark were doing to Devon, or even where she was. Shutting out everything else, he closed his eyes and filled his mind with only her.
Her scent, her soft skin, her blue eyes.
“Anson!”
It crushed him each time she called out to him, and he couldn’t answer. There was no mental link as he had with the Dragon Kings. Even knowing that, he couldn’t help but reply, “I’m here, Devon.”
“Where?”
His heart missed a beat. Had she heard him? Had she answered? “Devon?”
“There are Dark everywhere!”
“I’m here,” he told her. “Open your mind. Let me in.”
Neither of them mentioned that his power was possessing a body and not the mind. Using more and more magic, he put everything he had into Devon.
It wasn’t long before he could hear the sounds of battle. It was distant, as if coming through a tunnel. The next thing he knew, there was a blinding light, and he saw dozens of Dark all around him.
When he turned his head, he found himself staring at Con.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
Devon felt Anson within her head. There was no other way to explain it than that his mind, his soul was within her.
Her movements weren’t hers anymore. Suddenly, she was fighting as skillfully as she’d seen Anson move. She didn’t know how he controlled her, but she was happy that he was. Even if it was a ta
d weird.
“Devon?” Con asked.
There was no time to tell him that it was Anson helping as another Dark came at her. She held the knife tighter before she dove and rolled, coming up behind the Fae, she plunged the blade into his spine.
She bent backward as an arm swinging a sword came at her. With Anson controlling her, she was doing some serious ass kicking. And it felt good.
It also felt … familiar.
Which couldn’t be right. The most she’d ever exerted herself was during her marathon shopping trips. Why then did the way her hand held the knife seem as though it were exactly how things were supposed to be?
After a particularly brutal kill with her knife to the throat of a Dark, she caught Con looking at her peculiarly. He didn’t ask what was going on. Instead, he accepted it.
Because that’s what one did in a world of magic—as she was quickly learning.
Having Anson govern her movements wasn’t enough. She wanted to see him, hear him. Was it a fluke that she’d heard his voice in her head? Because only a Dragon King could have that link, and she knew for certain she wasn’t a dragon.
“Where are you?” she asked him.
“I’m with you.”
“Not physically. I need you.”
“I’m here. I’ll always be here,” he said.
Her heart hammered against her ribs. She wanted to slide her hand into his, to twirl his hair around a finger. She wanted to look into his eyes once more.
This had better not be the end for them. She hadn’t realized her feelings when she had the chance to tell him. No, she’d been too wrapped up in the magic to see anything else.
She let out a grunt when Con slammed her into the ground, covering her with his body. Barely able to take in a breath, it seemed like forever before he rose up on his hands.
“To the left,” he ground out.
Devon jumped up and spun, slashing the Fae deeply across the chest. She took out another before glancing Con’s way to find him yanking off what was left of his shirt. His back was burnt, threads of smoke rising from the edges of the wound left by Dark magic that had obliterated his dragon tattoo.
* * *
Rhi stood, staring over the eight Fae who lay dead at her feet. She waited for more to show themselves. As the seconds passed with nothing, she turned to Anson, ready to rip him a new one for not helping. Not that she needed his assistance, but that wasn’t the point.