Shadow Cursed: A Noblesse Oblige Duet Book Two

by Sage, May

  I force myself to ignore them, focusing on Morgana, waiting to see what'll come next. More torture, no doubt.

  Then, Rose lifts a knife in her hand and shoves it down, aiming for Morgana's shoulder. Instants before the blade can find its target, the queen catches her wrist, twists it in the air, and plunges it down, forcing Rose to stab herself in the stomach with a cry.

  Another girl I've never seen tries to fight her, too, but Morgana is as well trained as she's ruthless. Her body's a beautiful, merciless weapon. Watching her fight is like watching a dancer. Every girl tries to attack her, and all fail, so quickly their attempt is pitiful.

  I'm slow to notice whatever hold she had on me is gone. I'm so drained I almost can't tell the difference.

  I crawl on top of the bed, and reach toward her before taking her energy. To my surprise, it works. Not well. I feel like I'm only absorbing tiny droplets—she's guarding the rest. Somehow.

  Morgana is far more skilled than I've ever been.

  No wonder she never allowed me to be trained. She wanted to keep all the power to herself—and it is.

  My wrists, I note, are unbound. Violet must have freed me. I lift my other hand, and grunt as I suck her in. I'm too tired. My mind and body don't want to do it, but I force myself to keep taking her in.

  All three girls and Dekren are on the ground, bleeding out or already dead. The fae lasted longer than the mortals, but Morgana won.

  The queen’s snake unfurls from her throne, and slithers to her shoulder. Only when he touches her do I understand his purpose.

  He’s feeding her his energy. He’s granting her power. Yet I don’t sense that he’s losing any of his own.

  When she’s sufficiently restored, she turns to me, her cruel eyes filled with rage. She raises her hands, and I brace myself for the oncoming onslaught on my soul.

  On shaking legs, Violet steps between her mother and I, my sword in her hand.

  Morgana stills.

  "You know what your problem is, Mother? You like wolves to kneel for you. You should have put us down when you had the chance."

  Violet disappears, and reappears behind Morgana. The first flick of her wrist cuts the serpent’s head clean off. Morgana screeches in fury. Her daughter’s blade already found another target, slicing her back. Morgana moves to counter the blow, but already Violet's on the other side. Her swordsmanship is poor—worse than mine, and I am no expert—but I've never seen speed like that. Not even when I have my wings have I ever moved as fast as she.

  I don't need to wonder why she never used her ability before. She didn't have the strength, depleted as she was, and there was no hope of taking on Morgana when she could just drain her life force. Now while I'm draining Morgana, she can't use Void, just like I couldn't when she was taking me in. And that leaves her prey to Violet's strikes.

  I finally feel some part of myself awakening. Morgana's life force is feeding mine, giving me back some strength. I use it to drain her faster, harder. Soon, I see fear in those hateful eyes.

  Keeping one arm outstretched, I reach for the key on the bed, and unlock my ankles, before standing up to join the fight.

  I catch Violet's eye, and tilt my chin, gesturing for her to take Morgana's back.

  Then I let go of the Void.

  Morgana is quick to turn to me and bombard me with the full extent of her power. She's taking her daughter's advice: this time, there's no teasing. This time, she wants my death.

  I fall to my knees, and she smirks, victorious.

  Then blood spatters, showering my face. Violet plunged my sword right through Morgana's throat, screaming.

  I gasp, falling back as Morgana's power suddenly flickers out.

  Her body drops to the ground.

  There's nothing but silence in the tent, save for our breathing.

  Then Violet screams again, lifting the sword for the second time, and stabbing the cooling corpse, over and over.

  I get to my feet, and join her.

  Soon, we're laughing like children. I've never known a more entertaining game.

  Then I swear. Drusk!

  I rush out of the tent. I'd know if he was hurt. I'd feel it. But that doesn't mean he isn't in trouble.

  I freeze as soon as I get out of Morgana's stuffy chamber, laughing out loud.

  Flanked by Samel and his two knights, he's dragging Ceron uphill, bound like a hog.

  I rush back to the tent, kneeling in front of the four brave, brave souls who took on Morgana for us. Without them, who's to know what would have become of us? I have little strength left to me, but what I have, I give. I give, and give, till all four are breathing.

  Only then do I let myself collapse, knowing I'm safe with the girl who a day ago was supposed to be my worst enemy.

  Songs of Tenebris

  Vlari

  I wake next to Drusk. He’s snoring so loud the entire hall must hear him.

  I’m feeling a lot better than I would have thought possible. I’m not drained or weak despite the amount of power I’ve had sucked out of me. But I see bright eyes stare at me in the darkness, and then I understand.

  “You’re here again, hm?” I whisper to my familiar, smiling at him.

  The wyrfox only stares.

  “You feed me energy,” I guess. “You heal my soul.”

  He is quick to leave the room, happy to return to the wilderness now he doesn’t feel needed.

  I’ll have to name him, one day.

  I get up as quietly as I can. There’s much to do, but Drusk deserves all the sleep he can get.

  I’ve only let myself slink into the warm bathing pool when he joins me.

  We don’t talk. We could have lost each other a night ago. We could have lost everything.

  But we’re here, we won.

  We saved our kingdom.

  Words are useless. I let myself drown in him, for a time.

  Then I dress, brush my hair, and set my crown upon my brow.

  There are dances and songs despite the terrible losses. We've burned an army of humans, but over a thousand folk are gone. Great folk, gentle folk, soft, sweet folk. Friends and foes. Every single one of them will be missed. We celebrate their lives and scream their true names to the stars.

  I dance with my aunt, I dance with my seelie cousin, I dance with my friends, and of course I dance with my mate.

  My Drusk.

  "You knew," he accuses me, glaring, though there's little heat in his eyes.

  I don't have to ask him what he means. "It's not my fault you were slow."

  "When did you guess?"

  I shrug. "Ten years ago."

  Drusk and I sway to the beat of the drum Titus plays better than any unseelie I've ever heard.

  "You're wretched. You could have told me."

  I shrug. "You like wretched."

  He pulls me till I'm plastered all over his hard, bloodstained shirt. "I like nothing about you, princess. I like sunset. I like starlight. I like diamonds and wine. You, I adore."

  I get to my tiptoes, and he lifts me the rest of the way, to reach his mouth. I wrap my legs around him and let him carry me to our bed.

  Though it isn't quite ours. Whitecroft was never our home. Hardrock could never be either. The Wicked Court of Morgana will be destroyed along with the entire Shadow Peaks, if I have my way.

  And I shall. I am high queen.

  For one night, I let myself forget about it. I forget about the survivors from the Court of Ash, that I will have to send to trial. I forget about the immortal rotting in my dungeon. Violet is having her fun, torturing him, but she doesn't want to take his life, and for that, I'm grateful.

  The last thing we need is to destroy a Vikus and give Alfheimr reason to launch an open war with us. This time, they used humans as proxies, but if we were to kill Ceron and attack first, his father could come at us with all his might.

  If war comes to our gates, I'll be there to wage it, but I don't want to risk my people's blood again so soon.

  Fo
r one night, all that matters is feeling my mate inside me till neither of us can move. And we do just that.

  We drag him to the border, bound and blindfolded, and let him go without any supplies. He can beg or barter for them beyond the border.

  When we reach Mirthgrath, I kick Ceron to the ground, and remove his blindfold so he can watch me.

  His eyes are a storm of fury.

  "You came for my world and you leave with nothing. You tried to destroy me—us—and you failed."

  He holds his head high. "I will kill you, little girl. All of you."

  He's encompassing Drusk, Titus, and Violet in one sweeping glance.

  I bare my teeth. "Let me make you a promise. If you ever lay a hand on my family again, we will take yours. Not just you. Your children, and grandchildren, and their children, too. This is your last warning. Stay away from Tenebris."

  He gets to his feet, tall and proud as ever, though I know Violet cut him down a thousand times, waiting for him to heal before cutting again.

  That enrages me. I can't help it: I suck on his soul one last time, making him scream.

  He never begs, and I hate him for it.

  "There," I say. "Now your hair matches Daddy dearest's."

  It’s silvery-white, rather than dark. I've drained almost every drop of his life, and the man has the gall to laugh.

  "We immortals are patient," he tells me. "And one day, we'll take your pitiful kingdom."

  He turns around, walking away like a king.

  And we let him.

  “That promise of yours was careless,” Titus tells me. “You spoke for both of your bloodlines. You may have linked your fates.”

  I ignore him. There are more important matters to attend to.

  As soon as the Vikus prince disappears in the darkness, I start the second ritual.

  The tears. The blood. The stones. The sacrifice.

  It is my grandfather I set to rest today.

  And with his death, Tenebris is once again land of the unseelie fae.

  Epilogue

  Dursk

  Vlari is the worst at keeping secrets. From me, in any case. We have a tradition of sorts, she and I. Every year, she does her best to hide her presents and party planning for my birthday, and every year, I figure it out. The first few times, it hadn’t been on purpose; I just came across whatever gift she’d stuffed in a broom closet. I must admit that the last few years, I’ve sniffed around for it, knowing how it infuriates her when I find her presents.

  I haven’t found anything this year. Not in the lily pond, not on the roof, not behind the paintings in the armory.

  She knows it, I can tell. The way she smirks when she enters the hall of crowns shows she knows she’s victorious.

  I try not to pout.

  The fact that she’s particularly gorgeous tonight, wrapped in one of Ma’am Rolo’s long gossamer gowns, so delicate I almost see through the blush fabric, would drive any man to distraction.

  “Do you truly need to look at her like that?” Dornant asks, grimacing.

  Dornant despises any show of affection, from anyone at all—Vlari and I more than the rest.

  I ignore him. He’s a hundred and fifty now, twice the age Vlari and I were when we saved Tenebris from the human invaders, but in his entire life, he has known no sorrow, no hardship. We’ve built a world where our children have the luxury of being spoiled and naive. It’s our grandest accomplishment.

  “Oh, leave Father alone, grumpy.” Rulla yet again confirms her place as my favorite child, slapping the back of her twin’s head.

  I can admit that. Dornant is Vlari’s boy. Rulla’s my girl.

  Dornant glares at his sister. “Just because I have to accept Mother and Father must have had sex at one point doesn’t mean that I need visual reminders.”

  “One day, you’ll fall in love, and then I hope you know Father will exact his revenge.”

  I grin, imagining it. I’ll embarrass the hell out of him if the day comes that he sets his eyes on anyone.

  Vlari reaches us on the dais, but instead of joining us, taking the ornate throne at the center, she turns to face the court.

  All fall silent as she raises her hands, palms up.

  I frown, confused and on alert. I don’t know of any announcement scheduled for today, of all days. My birthdays are nights of mindless celebrations, much more casual than that of the queen. Hers are political affairs gathering the lords of all of Alfheimr.

  “Lords and ladies, kings and queens.” Her crisp voice fills the still room, and the folk silently bow before her. “For one hundred and thirty years, I’ve ruled our land as best as I could. I have weighed your complaints, I have quelled your anger, I have shielded us from our enemies.”

  “Praised be the queen!” Titus yells, raising his golden goblet.

  He's a frequent visitor now that we've moved to the Old Keep, deep in the Murkwood, so close to the seelie border.

  The court echoes him, drinking to Vlari’s health.

  She waits for silence before continuing. “What no one has ever said is that I wouldn’t have been able to do any of it without those who stood by my side, now and then. My mother, my father, my friend, my sister.” She turns away from the court, and faces me now. “And you, Rystan.”

  She uses my name so sporadically, particularly in public.

  “Thirteen decades ago, you reclaimed our country with me. Then, you raised our children, advised me, consoled me on my darkest nights. I may hold the crown, but you’re the pillar of the realm.”

  “To King Rystan!” Meda toasts, followed up by the rest of the court.

  I grin, accepting their ovation with a bow.

  I’m not used to it; my role as Vlari’s consort is to stand in the shadows. I understand how her grandfather ended up resenting it. I don’t. I’m happy taking care of my family. Of Vlari. But Alven never loved the late queen; he was trapped out of the sunlight, condemned to exist in her shadow.

  “Today, I considered giving you a spelled cloak, or a pretty ring, or a dagger that turns any heart it pierces to ice.”

  My mate has good taste.

  “Then I realized you’ve had that and more, these one hundred and thirty birthdays. There’s only one thing left for me to give you.”

  She nods at the children seated either side of me. They rise and move to stand next to her, both facing the crowd.

  Whatever is going on, they’re part of it, the two traitors.

  To my shock and dismay, Vlari gets to her knees and bends her head.

  “Nevlaria Bane, High Queen of Tenebris, do you recognize your heir?” Rulla asks, her clear voice as eloquent as her mother’s.

  “I recognize my son, Dornant Bane, as my heir.”

  We’ve talked of this. I believe Rulla is better suited to politics than Dornant, and Vlari agrees, but our daughter is seelie to the core. She’s always had her eyes to the north. Binding her to Tenebris would be unkind.

  Whenever we talked of succession, I imagined it would occur in the future—in hundreds, if not thousands of years. Not now.

  I search her eyes. She can’t mean—

  “High Queen Nevlaria, do you consent to surrendering the crown?”

  “I consent,” she replies, without a moment of hesitation.

  Just like that, it’s done. She’s no longer queen. Rulla takes the dark crown on her head, into which the green heart stone of Tenebris has been set, and Vlari rises to face the stunned court. My mother hugs her grandmother. The folk murmur amongst themselves, as stunned as I.

  Vlari’s giving me the one thing I wouldn’t have asked for, the one thing I truly want. Herself. Her time, her priority. She’s given up all of her power for me.

  Rulla strides to her brother, and Dornant kneels to receive his crown.

  “Long live the high king!” she bellows.

  There’s silence at first, but all, puck and pixies, elves and gentry, come to their senses and exclaim as one. “Long live the high king!”

&n
bsp; I woke up believing the rest of my life was going to be meetings and festivals, parades and war councils. I woke up knowing that I had to compete with the rest of Tenebris for my mate’s time. Now, we have our entire lives before us to do as we please.

  For the first time in centuries, I’m free. We are free.

  I wish Alven were still with us, little as I liked the bastard. Vlari cared for her grandfather. He’s gone, too. I wish Nero had shown his face sometime in the last century, but since his bondmate’s death, he’s retreated deep into the Wilderness, like so many shy folk. I wish my sister were here with us, but she’s one of the names we shout at the sky every year, in remembrance of the battle of Whitecroft.

  They should have enjoyed today with us, but they can’t, and I have to make peace with their loss. The one true shadow that can never heal from my heart is the absence of Cissa, our third-born daughter. A child of the sea who hardly knows us. I don't doubt that she was invited, but she never comes to us.

  I stride to my mate and wordlessly lift her, throwing her on my shoulder.

  I know just how I want to spend the next hours, and that’s not playing nice with a court that's no longer ours to rule.

  "Revolting," the high king states, glaring at us.

  I wink at my son, dragging his mother to our bed one last time, before we vacate the royal rooms that now belong to him.

  * * *

  The End

  * * *

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  Next in Álfheimr

  The Cursed Crown

  My lips hitch up an inch as the hulking, slender man bends down to whisper in my ear. “A divided kingdom without a leader is weak. You will fall. You will fail. You will all die without my kindness, little girl.”