by K.N. Lee
Outside, Theron stood in the back garden. He smiled when he saw her, his eyes brightening as he approached. He wore a suit and red cape, secured at his chest by golden brooches.
For a moment, she almost turned around and ran back inside so that Vera could fix her hair, but his smile convinced her that she looked just fine.
Mila stepped forward, not sure what to do with her hands, as he reached out for her.
He stepped forward, the moon’s light shining onto his slick, dark hair. “Have you given my request some thought?”
Despite herself, she grinned. “I have.”
“And, do you have an answer for me?”
Shrugging, she averted her eyes. “Not yet.”
He kissed the back of her hand and she noticed blood on his shoes.
“What happened?”
“There was trouble in the city earlier this evening,” he said. “A lot of people got hurt. I tried my best to quash the violence, but it was of no use.”
She touched his cheek, brows furrowed.
“Are you okay?”
“Yes, I’m fine,” he said, smiling. “I’m immortal. Remember?”
“Yes, you are. But, that doesn’t make me feel better. Must have been something pretty nasty to injure you.”
He scratched the back of his neck. “Magic users,” he said. “Some are quite powerful. You know that better than anyone.”
She cupped his face in her hands and kissed him on the lips. “I do. Which is why we must act now. Things are getting out of hand from what I’ve been hearing. Veruth is on the brink of a major revolt on both sides.”
“I know,” he said. “Which is why I summoned you as soon as I could. The ball is today.”
Her face paled.
“Oh, yes. I’d nearly forgotten about that.”
She wasn’t ready to face the king. There was still so much to learn and prepare for.
“Drake has requested you,” he said, and she shot a stunned look at him.
“Where?”
“Come, I’ll take you to him.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Drakes lair resembled a castle, with so much brass on the outside architecture that it glowed beneath the moonlight.
Mila and Theron made their way inside, and together they went into the deepest depths where stairs plunged into the earth. With only the light of a torch to guide them, they continued down a series of corridors and staircases, the black walls slick with moisture and traces of precious stones.
At the very last staircase, there stood two large doors made of stone that reached up the entirety of the cavern. Two giants stood outside the doors, eyes cast down to Theron and Mila.
She marveled at them, having never seen a giant before. They wore armor, and helmets, and carried spears with golden tips.
“Master Drake has been expecting you,” the giants said in unison, their voices echoing throughout the hall.
The doors were pushed open, and Mila gulped as she and the prince stepped inside.
It was cold, dark, damp, and smelled stale. Large spider webs clung to the corners of the doors and ceiling.
Inside the cavern awaited a group of people waiting in the dim light of a few gas lamps. They wore gray cloaks and stood around a platform in the center of the room.
The resistance.
They perked up when they saw the prince with Mila at his side, whispering, and marveling at her.
“Dear spirits,” an old woman said, covering her mouth. “She’s really here.”
The smiles that came from those people left Mila speechless. They all but bowed to her as she entered the room, touching her, kissing her hands.
Such appreciation had never been shown to her. She was born an outcast. Raised an outcast. And thrown away like rubbish.
This—this love they showed—was new to her. She found herself smiling at them. She wanted to be the savior they’d been waiting for.
Was this her destiny?
“They don’t even care that I’m here,” Theron whispered, nudging Mila in the side.
She glanced at him and he grinned.
“Come,” a voice bellowed from the dark.
Her grin faded and everyone turned toward the voice, bowing their heads and falling to their knees.
She glanced at Theron, and he nodded for her to go.
She swallowed, inhaling and exhaling a cleansing breath.
As stepped forward, her heart began to thump in her chest. What was that feeling that made the hairs on her arms rise? Or, the cold air that made clusters of gooseflesh cover her flesh?
She kept her eyes fixed ahead, listening to the soft hum that filled her ears.
Her feet seemed to float, leading her toward something, when Theron’s voice broke her from her trance.
Whatever was in the center of the room affected her from within.
It was strong. Persistent.
It wanted her.
Darkness smothered her, so thick that she couldn’t make out her own hands in front of her face.
Mila blew a yellow light into her hands and held them out before her.
A gasp escaped her lips as a dragon outstretched its golden wings and landed on the empty platform. He roared, fire lighting all of the candles that lined the cavern.
Firedrake, she thought. Yes. Drake. It all made sense.
As he landed, he shifted into that of a man—a man with dark ebony skin. Tall, dressed in golden armor, he was an imposing figure, much different than what she’d expected from a prophet.
Her face blanched as her eyes fixed his.
Silver eyes rose to meet Mila’s—eyes that matched her own.
“Father?” Her lips trembled.
A smile came to his lips, and he gave a nod. “Yes,” he said, his voice filling the entire space, vibrating along her bones. “I was that at one time. Before my calling.”
“How?” Mila asked, covering her mouth.
Dear spirits. Her father was still alive.
“The gods have blessed me. They have blessed you.”
Falling to her knees, she sobbed into her hands. How good it was to see him. For the first time in ages, Mila felt something raw tear at her heart. She remembered that same pain when her father had died. How could this be? How did he now stand before her?
She shot to her feet, running toward him. He threw out his arm and a gust of wind sent her sliding backward. “No, my child. Do not come any closer.”
“It’s me. Mila,” she croaked.
Drake’s Mila eyes didn’t blink.
“Yes. The Dragon Goddess. You are my child. You are our savior. But, you cannot come any closer. Our magic will destroy the kingdom if we do,” he said, his voice lowering. “It is why I had to leave you.”
Tears streamed down her face as he looked at her with sorrow pooling in his eyes.
“I did what I had to, for you.”
Mila shook her head, her brows furrowing. “I don’t understand.”
“I am the truth and the light. I am a prophet. Not the first, or the last. But, you—you are a goddess—chosen by the gods.”
Mila shivered. Goddess?
“Mila, the people of the world need you to be strong, stronger than I was, stronger than your mother and all of the sorceresses, witches, and magic-users who have come before you. Break the Curse of the Fae, rid the lands of the plague, stop the High Fae king, and maybe the world will survive.”
“King Cosimo.”
“Yes. Kill him, or we will all be subject to an eternity of darkness,” Drake said, his eyes finally meeting Mila’s.
“But, I need you,” she whispered. “By my side, like when I was a girl and we’d hunt in the woods.”
He smiled then, nodding at the memory “Aye. You have me. I will always be with you, for our blood is bonded, and our magic is strong. You are the sorceress who will bring peace, and the dragon who will set the people free,” he whispered and into the dark, his image faded.
“Wait,” she said. “I have mo
re questions.”
“No, you don’t,” Drake’s voice said, coming from inside her head. “You already know what you have to do. Now, go do it.”
With that, he vanished, and a gasp escaped her throat.
“Father!”
She searched for him in the darkness, dumbfounded by what had just happened.
Magic.
She took in a deep breath, turning to the humans and shifters who made up the resistance. Was she truly a dragon, like Kellan? So many questions filled her mind, but as her father said, she knew what she had to do.
Here we go.
Chapter Twenty-Six
The palace was lit brightly on the night of the ball. The golden towers glowed with yellow light, and thousands of people, High Fae, and shifters crowded the pristine grounds.
Mila and Prince Theron entered via a white stone staircase that spiraled downward into the deep underground.
Tonight, the king would die.
Minstrels played their lutes and drums and the chatter of a thousand voices vibrated within her mind.
Mila suddenly wished she’d have taken more time on her appearance. Like a goose in a pond of swans, she stood out amidst the fine ladies of the High Fae court. They wore their best gowns, of satin and lace, with corsets that pushed their bosoms upward. Hair braided or twisted upward, their pointed ears were jeweled and faces painted with bright colors.
Even with all of her insecurities, the multitude of eyes on her as they descended, having Prince Theron by her side made it all okay.
“Tomorrow,” Theron began, leaning close to her ear and they stepped onto a moving staircase that led to the bottom where everyone awaited and flashing lights flickered over the dance floor. “They will all be wearing yellow dresses with wet top knots.”
“Great. I’m inspiring bad fashion.”
Theron chuckled. “Isn’t fashion subjective though?”
Shrugging, Mila watched the crowd.
Her heart sank into her stomach the moment her eyes went to a door at the back of the large, rectangular room that reminded her of the Vasily ballroom. The banners of the High Fae of Veruth line hung from high above, red and gold. Several guards stood watching over them from their posts, armed, eyes aglow.
The room was lit with crystal chandeliers that glittered from the ceilings. Even the servers were remarkable, wearing elaborate masks shaped like butterflies or birds, their uniforms red dresses with golden sashes.
She clutched Theron’s arm. “Theron,” she said, her skin tightening with dread.
His gaze followed hers and she felt his body tense beneath her grip on his arm.
“There he is,” Theron said, his brows furrowing. “Keep calm.”
Mila swallowed. Dear spirits, she thought as her eyes locked with King Cosimo’s.
Once they reached the bottom of the moving staircase, a path was made for them as the crowd separated for King Cosimo.
“Wine, my dear?” A server asked.
Mila nodded, taking a glass and downing it, before handing it back and taking another.
The server lifted a perfectly shaped blonde brow and nervously giggled before moving to the next guest.
“He’s coming this way,” she said, and drank more of her wine as they stood toward the back of the room.
“Don’t worry,” Theron whispered to her. “You’re doing just fine.”
“My stomach is in knots,” Mila said behind her cup.
“You can do this. I believe in you. And, I am right here by your side.”
She glanced at him, chewing her bottom lip.
“And, that’s where I will stay if you let me.”
She swallowed, her heart soaring at those words. It was real. She knew it. Not everything about this plan was a game.
She imagined a life with Theron, one where no one or nothing could stand in their way.
It was up to her to make that a reality.
Her eyes went to the servers who passed food around from their trays, her mouth watering, but stomach churning with worry.
The DJ played a different song, the bass vibrating along the walls.
The king approached, and Mila was certain he’d see right through her as soon as he was close enough. She tensed, her abs tightening, as he stopped right in from of them.
“Good evening, Lady Mila” King Cosimo said, his eyes looking Mila up and down, lingering on her bosom, before meeting her eyes again.
Forcing a smile, she curtsied and nodded her head. “Evening, your highness.”
“Father,” Theron said, bowing.
“I’m a bit surprised you decided to bring your mistress along,” the king said, and Mila’s eye twitched.
“She’s more than that,” he said.
“Oh, yes. I’m sure she is. But, dear son, I just wanted to introduce you to someone,” King Cosimo said, motioning for a young woman to stand by his side.
Mila lifted a brow. The young High Fae was stunning, her hair long and black, eyes an unnatural shade of purple, and rosy-red lips. Those lips curled into a smile as she curtsied to Prince Theron.
“Good evening, my prince,” she said.
“This is Princess Katana of Surine,” King Cosimo said, watching Mila’s expression.
She wanted to vomit. The king was toying with her.
Theron rolled his eyes, locking arms with Mila. “Lovely to meet you, princess. May I introduce you to Lady Mila?”
She shot Mila a smirk, humor in her gaze. “Oh, Prince Theron, trust me, I care not if you have a mistress or two. As long as they stay out of my sight.”
King Cosimo chuckled. “Lady Mila, join me for a drink in private.”
She tensed, unable to move an inch in his direction. This was perfect. But, what was his motive? Why did he want to get her alone?
“I’ll join you,” Theron said, holding a hand out for Mila.
“No,” King Cosimo said, glaring at Theron.
A red light flickered in his dark eyes.
Everyone around took a few steps away, as the air grew tight and warm.
Theron clenched his jaw, but he followed the king’s orders.
He and Mila shared a look. So much was said without exchanging words.
“I’d be happy to join you,” Mila said, hoping to break the tension.
She gave Theron one last look, her heart thumping in her chest as the king held a hand out for her.
When she accepted his hand, both of their eyes widened as an electric shock shot between them, and her forearm tightened as if it were being squeezed.
“Oh no,” she whispered as King Cosimo’s eyes narrowed at her face.
She knew it then…that she was exposed.
His face turned red with rage.
“Sorcery,” he uttered, drawing his sword.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
In the next second, Mila found herself lying on the floor with a crunch. She gasped, a sharp pain in her head, eyes blurred, and stomach churning.
What just happened?
The king had struck her.
She shook her head and squeezed her eyes shut, hoping that when she opened them again that she would be able to see straight.
Instead, King Cosimo placed his boot on her chest and glared down at her. “You and my son are sneaky little bastards. Very sneaky indeed,” he said and Mila coughed.
Her eyes widened as his sword began to glow, radiating blue light all around the sharp blade. “When I first heard rumor of a prophecy that would send me to my grave, I was skeptical. But, a great king doesn’t become great by ignoring threats to his life or his reign. And, you dear beauty, are said to be the only one who can kill me.”
“Aye,” she said. “This is true, and no one is as worthy of death as you, dear king.” Mila raised her hand, a gush of wind following it as she tossed him across the room with all of her might and power.
The guests screamed, running for the doors.
King Cosimo slid to a stop, just before crashing into the far wall. He sneere
d at her, enchanted sword held ready. “Stop this, or I will kill Theron and everyone you know and love.”
“Enough,” Theron said, and the king shot a glare his way, sword pointed to the prince’s throat.
“One more step and I will end her life here and now. Hold your tongue, and I will simply imprison her and use her to fulfill my conquest of the entire realm.”
She wiped her mouth, stunned to see that she coughed up blood. “Leave him to me, Theron.”
“This is madness,” Theron said, and the king—growling with fury—held out his sword and sent a bolt of blue energy into his chest.
Theron was sent crashing through the wall and into another room.
The gloomy dark took over her mind and consciousness. Just as she began to fade, she was pulled away, like someone held onto her on either end, tugging. Fighting.
Her head lolled to the side, vision blurring.
A man stood there, black hair falling into his eyes. Teeth gritted, he outstretched his arm, the palm of his hand facing her.
A black mist flew toward her.
Mila gasped.
Kellan!
He was beautiful, regal, a true marvel.
And, as the darkness threatened to consume her, she was certain his body began to glow.
It was then that the king spun on Mila, lifted her over his shoulder, and vanished in a swirl of energy and light.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Theron
Crashing into the wall, and into the outer corridor of the palace, Theron cried out in pain as his head struck another wall, stopping him.
Despite the pain, he leaped to his feet and ran for Mila.
He gasped as a young man leaped across the rubble and landed before him.
His brows rose as their eyes met. “Kellan?”
The young shifter nodded. “Yes. Prince Theron, I take it?”
“Yes,” he said, and raked through his hair, pushing it from his face as he caught his breath. “Mila needs my help.”
“The king has taken her from the palace,” Kellan said, voice firm, arms glowing with strange markings. “I will find her by our linked magic. You must release Emory from the dungeons. Together, we can put an end to this.”