“How dare you! You don’t know me. You know nothing of—”
Grabbing her wildly, flailing hands he jerked them toward his chest. Covering her cold fingers with his warm ones, almost like a hug. And the touch of him...by the gods.
Her mouth parted just slightly, words completely lost to her.
“You are right, Fable. I do not know you. But you are wrong too. For I do know you. I know your kind.”
“My kind?” She lifted a shapely brow, saying the words far sharper than she’d intended to. “And what exactly does that mean?”
If he was scared of her tone, he didn’t show it. Instead, he chuckled warmly. “Do you think that I’ve lived amongst gods all my life and haven’t learned a thing or two in that time? Do you think that I cannot see that beneath the sharp tongue and spine of steel is a woman unsure of herself and who she really is?”
She gasped a tiny inhalation of sound because he was stripping her bare, exposing her worst fears and bringing them out into the light of day by simply speaking the words into being.
If anyone within her realm other than Mirror had ever spoken to her thus, he or she would have quickly been reduced to ashes. And though Owiot was a god, there were ways to hurt even him.
Ways she knew well. She could defend herself by might, by power, demand he take it all back. But all she could do was shake and tremble and damn the silent tears sliding down her cheeks.
“How?” she asked, the only word she was capable of speaking in that moment.
She’d expected him not to understand, but he smiled gently, thumb stroking the inside of her wrist and making her feel crazy, wonderful, confusing things.
“I’ve told you my names, Fable. But not what I can do, or who I am.”
She sniffed, yanking one hand out of his grip to wipe up her stupid tears. “You like kids, and you make people sad.”
A bitter laugh escaped her.
“Sort of like you’re doing to me now,” she said softly.
His eyes—so soulful and penetrating and lovely to gaze upon—finally did flinch. And immediately she felt like an arse, wanting to take the words back, wanting to say it wasn’t true, simply to spare him.
Which was a first for her. She wasn’t exactly known for sparing the feelings of others often, if ever.
“No. Though I am not surprised you think so. The truth is, that when I’m around others, I do not make them feel what they don’t already feel in some shape or fashion. Humans and even gods bear a great capacity to hide from their darkest, most troubling parts of themselves. But the sentiment is always there it’s simply buried so deep that most times they think it does not exist.”
The hand that had released her earlier, he now placed against her breast—which should have elicited one of two responses from her. Either an enraged and indignant gasp of outrage followed by a satisfying slap to his handsome face. Or a kittenish mewl of pleasure and a subtle drifting in toward him to let him know she wanted more. And though in some ways she felt both emotions, the way he held himself absolutely still and stared at her like he was actually peering into her soul, she couldn’t seem to do anything other than look back at him. Owiot wasn’t feeling her up; instead, he was covering the wild beat of her heart with his palm and forcing her to listen to her sadness.
His intense gaze literally seemed to swallow her whole, and she found herself falling into a web of stars—an infinite string of them that lit up the vacuum of night with winking pinpricks of silver dust. And as she fell she saw. Saw herself as a child. Happy, carefree, and much loved. Then as a young woman. Idealistic. Naïve. But still happy, still sure in the goodness of others.
Then she saw herself step through the portal between the above and the below. Saw the sparkle of joy dance through her lioness gaze, the rapturous smile take over her face as she tipped her face up toward the sun for her first inhale of air.
Her heart trembled to see that girl.
So young. So sure of herself and the world she moved in. Sure that she’d made the right choice. Even when that damnable driver had accosted her. She’d just known she’d been made for this world.
That she’d finally found the place where she belonged.
Then she saw him.
George.
Come galloping up over the hill. Wearing his crown and riding his white stallion. So handsome. So virile. Literally her knight in shining armor. Reaching a hand down to her, and inviting her to stay with him forever.
She’d been so smitten, so immediately drawn into his web that she’d never noticed what she noticed now.
The hardness to his lips. The calculating gleam in his deep blue eyes. Or the tortured gleam in his guardsman’s eyes. Charles sat astride his own mount and shook his head once. An instinctual type of movement that spoke volumes without saying a word. He’d tried to warn her off. Tried to make her leave.
But she’d been so silly, and young, and trusting.
And the moment she took George’s hand was the moment she’d sealed all their dooms.
Fable wanted to scream at Owiot to make it stop. But she was falling, falling, falling...unable to halt the perpetual slide into that darkness she’d bottled up for years.
Tearing through more images and memories.
Feeling the heavy weight of the crown upon her head the moment she’d said, “I do.”
How George had squeezed her hand, near to the point of pain, and deep in her soul, she’d known that her white knight had just become her tormentor.
The visit from Brunhilda, where under the guise of lavishing wedding gifts upon her, she’d fooled Fable into putting on that cuff. And then the slow descent into madness and pain.
Being smacked in the face by the dowager for not dressing appropriately, or saying the right thing. Brunhilda telling the rest of the castle to never approach the queen, or even so much as speak to her, upon pain of death.
Losing any potential allies she could have had. Seeing the noose slowly tighten around her and knowing she could do nothing to stop it, until finally she’d been locked away.
Discovering the truth of who George and the witch really were. Being repeatedly raped, night after night. Learning her dark craft at the hands of a wicked fairy. Growing in power and rage.
Until finally...she killed them all.
Seeing Snow’s eyes and knowing any love she’d been given by the little princess had been dashed to ribbons forever.
And then her rebirth into evil.
Fable hadn’t realized until now how even the outer had exposed the inner. When she’d first arrived at the Enchanted Forest she’d dressed in pale, light colors. But slowly her style had evolved into shadow and darkness.
Her harsh and unflinching look as she’d smite an entire village for threats against her crown and right to rule. Her cruelty.
“Stop.” She was finally able to mumble miserably; voice cracking as she pleaded with him. “Please, goddess, stop this.”
And then she was back. No longer falling through an endless parade of stars, but staring deep into molten eyes that saw far too much.
His palms came up to her face, and she waited for him to look at her in disgust. With fear.
He’d seen the very worst of her soul. Exposed it completely.
But instead, he glided his fingers down her cheeks, drying her tears as best he could.
“I see you, Fable of Seren.”
She swallowed painfully, almost too afraid to move, afraid that if she did the kindness in his gaze would finally turn to recrimination, to hate. Like it had done with so many others.
She circled his wrists with her far smaller hands, not able to close the circle. She wasn’t sure whether it was to hang onto something, or push him away. All she knew was that touching Owiot grounded her back to the present.
“I’m not worth seeing, Owiot. I fear I never have been.” There. The truth she’d buried down deep, the one she would kill to never let anyone know of it. She told it so easily to him. Fable tasted the bitter tang
of self-loathing on the back of her tongue.
He shook his head, and then in a move that surprised her. He pulled her toward him. He was going to kiss her.
He was...
And then he did.
The press of his firm lips to hers rocked through her soul. Not because there was passion, or intensity, or even longing—though there was for her—but because he’d opened himself to her too and let her taste of the divine.
Of the godhood within himself.
Of the healing white light of his own soul and that of the world that surrounded them. And she remembered. And suddenly the words that Button had whispered to her made so much sense.
It wasn’t a point in time that she needed to remember. Rather, it was the sweet, innocence of her youth. The burning memory of what it was to be pure of heart and happy again.
The carefree joy and radiance of that light washed through her, and where the light touched the darkness fled.
Not permanently, or even forever. Not if she wouldn’t allow it. But he was showing her another way. He was showing her who she could be if she’d just let it in.
He pulled back, and the light was gone. She whimpered, wanting more. Wanting all of it.
“Look at me, dark queen.”
She did. No longer able to fight her pull to him.
And she gasped, because the sadness, the pain that had been inside of her, was now reflected in the depths of his chocolate eyes.
“What did you do?” she breathed, touching her fingers to the corner of his eyes as she watched her terrible memories play through his gaze like a rolling image.
“I took it inside of me, Fable.”
“No. Give it back. You cannot handle what I’ve done, it will hurt you, it would ruin—”
His smile was gentle. “I did not take it all, Fable, but I wished to give you at least a little peace.”
“Why?” she asked again because she was so very confused by him. He did not know her, and yet he’d done this for her. He’d taken out her darkness. He let her breathe again. “Why, Owiot? Why did you do this?”
“Because,” he said after a moment, “we all deserve to be happy sometimes.”
~*~
Owiot
Gritting his teeth against the unbearable pressure of her demons waging battle inside of him, Owiot had no choice but to leave her there. He’d sensed he’d pushed her as far as she was capable. She sat on that bed, bathed in shadow and beauty, and staring unblinkingly at the wall ahead of her and his heart ached to stay by her side.
Owiot could not understand his irresistible draw to her, or his need to save her from herself. He’d promised himself after the last time that he’d never do this again. Never again allow his emotions to gain the upper hand on his common sense, but when she’d abandoned him to flee like a terrified rabbit from a prowling coyote, he’d had no choice but to follow.
Fable’s sadness was such a tangible, terrible thing that he was helpless but to respond to it. Though it was more than that. More than the call of that emotion that played havoc with his soul, it was the woman herself.
Once, many moons ago there’d been another woman. One who’d made his soul long, just as Fable did now. Weary, aching everywhere, he forced himself to not think about Aiyana.
Walking painfully slow down the winding staircase, he made his way gingerly toward the exit of the castle itself. He needed to rid himself of her demons soon.
It was never pleasant hanging on to the sins of another, but Fable’s sins were far darker and deeper than most. By the time he took the last step his body ached like that of a broken and aged elder not long for this world.
The moment he stepped into the weak rays of sunlight, he tipped his face toward the Great Spirit—in any realm, tribe, or incarnation, his peoples never changed. The names might be different for all, but they were all one and the same.
“I call you Sister Mountain Lion. Brother Coyote. Sister Crow. And Brother Eagle,” he intoned, feeling his insides began to quake and tremble as he prepared to shed this weak mortal form for that of his true one. “I ask you to accept my sacrifice. Take of me. Cleanse me. Purify my heart, mind, and soul to do what it is I’ve been called to do. Show me truth.”
Raising his hands toward the sky, he spread his fingers wide, dropped his head and felt the call of the Great Spirit descend from above.
As breath left him, the wind rolled and gathered to the four corners of this land. A great cry sounded from the sky above, as the spirit form of Brother Eagle and Sister Crow fell upon him.
Eagle—a screen of clouds and starlight—landed on his shoulders. Hooking sharply curved talons into his flesh.
He grunted, beginning the chant of release.
Crow—came not as spirit, but in true animal form. With feathers, gleaming like polished obsidian and emeralds as his large wings fluttered gracefully, and with each flap thunder rolled. He rested upon Owiot’s head, cawing loudly.
Owiot’s body shook violently. Fable’s demons inside of him screamed, clawing at his innermost self, demanding he not do them as he was about to do. Biting down on his back teeth, he accepted the pain as his own, becoming one with it and sliding deeper into the spirit world.
“To me, Coyote...and, and Mountain Lion,” he stuttered with the last vestige of strength he still possessed.
And then he knew they were there. Even without turning, he felt the sly, trickster pad through the woods behind him, slinking in shadow and chuckling softly to himself.
Mountain Lion was not too far behind her brother. She came at Owiot from the front, her tawny-eyed gaze piercing through the veil of Owiot’s mortal form into the god beneath.
Coyote pounced from behind, and Mountain Lion from the front. Slamming him to the ground and sinking their claws into him.
The touch of the four released his soul. He erupted from the shell... a god.
~*~
Fable
She was drawn to the window. Knowing, without knowing, that he was out there.
Moving like a thought, as though in a trance toward it, she got to the casement in time to witness the majesty of Owiot’s transformation from man to more.
Her eyes grew wide as the animals—who were clearly not true animals at all—came to him. An eagle built of stars and clouds. A crow with feathers beyond the scope of imagination. A mountain lion more regal and lovely than any feline she’d ever seen, and a laughing coyote, they surrounded Owiot in a tight circle, and before she knew it the beautiful, beautiful man who’d touched something deep inside of her soul exploded outward like a supernova.
The sky exploded with lightning and thunder, turning from lavender to pitch black. And now bursting with stars.
But the stars, they did not remain just within the sky. The stars were everywhere.
In the trees. On the ground.
Even, in her room.
Gasping, she reached for one of them. An impossibly bright jewel of white that winked and twinkled and beckoned for her to touch it.
The tiny star landed on her palm, and she couldn’t begin to describe the emotions that assailed her then.
Glory.
Wonder.
Awe.
But so much more too.
“Owiot,” she whispered, somehow understanding that this, all of this was him. Caressing the tiny gem a moment, she then curled her fingers around it and brought it to her chest.
Warmth spread throughout her body. She closed her eyes and was once more falling into a net of stars.
But this time, it was different.
It didn’t hurt.
It was so lovely. And though she stumbled, she knew she’d not be harmed, because the stars were so much more than just lights. The stars were him—Owiot, and the wind whispered his chant to her, “you are not alone, Fable. Not ever alone.”
Chapter 12
Fable
She blinked her eyes open, confused for a moment where she was. Back in her tower in the Enchanted Forest, everything looked the s
ame and yet it was somehow different too.
But then slowly the memories of the night before came back to her. The games. A man bathed in shadows. Warm, chocolate eyes. A gentle touch. Coyote. Crow. Mountain Lion. Eagle. And stars.
With a gasp, she tossed her sheets aside. Wondering when she’d gotten into bed. When she’d fallen asleep. But the thought was fleeting.
Had he left her forever?
What had happened yesterday?
Really happened?
She’d felt him take of her darkness. Extract it from her. And though she still sensed a wellspring of it deep within her, she also felt freer, lighter than she had in forever.
“Owiot,” she breathed his name like a benediction.
Taking less than a minute to brush her teeth, and pull on a robe of whatever color—she didn’t even care—from the closet, she bounded down the steps as fast as she could. She could snap her fingers and escape, but she wouldn’t know where to. So she had to settle for searching for him the old fashioned way, by using the two legs she’d been born with.
Panic beat heavy wings in her chest as she looked inside one empty room after another. Had this all been a strange, wonderful dream? Had she imagined the god? Had he never even been real at all?
And if it had, then why did she suddenly feel so empty, sad, and lonely? That was her life on a daily basis. She never got to sit down to a nice spot a tea with a friend talking over the day’s events, never knew what it felt like to invited to a ball she did not put on, she never even got the chance to simply sit and have a conversation based on nothing with a stranger.
Because in the Enchanted Forest all knew her, and knew to stay well clear of their “Dark Queen.” Owiot had been the only human since she’d assumed the crown who had ever treated her—not even as an equal—but as simply another woman. He wasn’t scared of her, and never acted as though she was above him in stature or rank, to him she’d simply been Fable and not the Evil Queen.
It was that epiphany that had her running faster. He couldn’t leave her now. Not when she finally knew what it felt like to be normal.
The Dark Queen (The Dark Queens Book 5) Page 13