by Jocelyn Fox
“Can you guard him and make sure he doesn’t rejoin the fight? Hit him again if you need to,” said Tess, her disembodied voice emerging from the fierce glare of the Sword.
“I can do that,” Vivian said. She positioned herself a few feet away from Donovan to give herself some reaction time, keeping her eyes focused on his boots as Tess walked away. It was difficult to resist the urge to look up and watch the Bearer, but she forced herself to maintain her downward gaze. Blinding herself after she’d been warned not to look directly at the unleashed Sword would be a truly rookie mistake. And besides, she’d stared at the sun once as a kid, testing Evie’s assertion that it wasn’t good for her eyes. It was an experience she didn’t want to repeat.
Donovan groaned again but didn’t move. In the new light of the Sword, Vivian saw Luca finally dispatch the hound; or maybe it was a second hound, she couldn’t be sure. He strode toward her, his shirt torn and bloodied in several places from the claws and teeth of the hounds.
“I’m guarding Donovan,” she told him.
He grunted and then knelt by the Unseelie man, gripping his hair and pulling his head back severely. Vivian stepped forward in alarm, but Luca didn’t raise his axe. He growled something into the man’s ear and then released his head. Standing, he nodded to Vivian. “He shouldn’t give you any trouble.”
She pressed her lips together. “I didn’t think he was going to, but thank you.”
The ulfdrengr gave her another brisk nod and then scanned the room, looking for his next fight. He raised his axe and shouted a war cry in the Northern tongue as he plunged back into the melee.
Mab screamed again, the pitch higher than her last cry. Vivian kept Donovan in her peripheral vision but couldn’t resist raising her eyes to watch the final showdown. After all, it wasn’t every day that she not only fought in her first battle as a Paladin, but witnessed the demise of a Fae Queen. Her body tightened in anticipation and she gripped her sword reflexively, her heart racing as she tried to make out the figures within the smoke and shadows.
A wind that smelled of snow and pine washed away the fumes from the battle. As the fog and smoke cleared, Vivian saw Molly standing opposite the swaying figure of Mab. She drew in her breath and watched in morbid fascination as the sorceress advanced on the Sidhe Queen, knowing that she was about to witness the end of a centuries-long reign. Her eyes drifted to the distant sight of the skulls by the throne, and she found herself silently cheering on Molly.
She wanted to see Mab’s demise. She leaned forward and held her breath, waiting for the moment that would forever change the course of the Fae world.
Chapter 54
Tess wondered for a brief moment if leaving Vivian to watch Donovan had been a mistake. The Sword and her war markings and the pendant at her throat all blazed in concert, wrenching her attention back to the battle unfurling in the center of the throne room.
This felt eerily similar and yet different from the fight in the Dark Keep. One part of Tess marveled that their plan was well on its way to working: Molly stood on the precipice of defeating Mab, Titania and Vell containing the destruction with their own power, the armies of the Vyldgard and the Seelie doing their best to save the remnants of the Unseelie Court. Even as she walked toward the two Queens with the fiery Caedbranr unsheathed, Tess felt superfluous. There were no hordes of Dark creatures spilling from the shadows. Now, at the end, with her cruelty laid bare and her power challenged, there was only Mab, screaming shrilly, tentacles of oily darkness wrapped around her legs.
Tess saw Finnead at Vell’s side, his blue eyes alight with the dark flames of Molly’s power. Liam guarded the Vyldretning’s other side, holding an axe in one hand, his muscular body tensed and ready for a fight from any quarter. Titania’s Three arrayed themselves around the Seelie Queen, their handsome faces stoic as they watched the bone sorceress stride toward Mab.
The Sword tugged at her hand in warning as she reached the boundary of the Queens’ enchantment. Tess toed the line and watched her motion generate a silver ripple. She stood now behind Molly, Vell on her left and Titania on her right. Again, she was reminded of the battle against Malravenar, forming the diamond with the river-stones, the three Queens murmuring their incantations.
There were no incantations now, only the last vestiges of the sounds of battle echoing through the cavern as Beryk and Kianryk fought the last of Mab’s hounds and the other Seelie and Vyldgard fighters subdued the last Unseelie. She turned her attention back to the duel. She couldn’t see Molly’s face, and that made it a little easier to put aside the fact that the woman who’d once been her best friend was the one who had accepted a fragment of Malravenar’s spirit and used arcane, forbidden Dark sorcery to gain her revenge on Mab.
Mab tore at the tentacles of shadow with her hands, her fingers tipped with the black talons that Tess remembered from the tense confrontation in the Queens’ pavilion. Icy wind screamed through the throne room, pummeling the dark-clad figure of the sorceress. Tess felt her own lips numbing from the icy air. The blaze of the Sword’s power and her own taebramh kept the rest of her body warm enough.
The Unseelie Queen’s otherworldly beauty still dazzled, twisted though it was with fury and fear. Her pale skin shone as though illuminated by starlight, her dark hair bound up in a diadem of silver and sapphires. Then the sorceress flicked one hand, and a cut opened on Mab’s cheekbone, oozing dark blood. The Unseelie Queen gasped in mingled outrage and pain. Tess watched, trying to smooth her face like Vell and Titania as she wondered how long it had been since Mab had felt any physical hurt.
The cut on her face, small though it was, ignited a different struggle from Mab, as though she had belatedly realized that this sorceress was no ordinary opponent. She snarled and tore at the twining black vines with renewed vigor.
“You think to challenge me, half-mortal whelp?” the Unseelie Queen snarled, her voice echoing through the chamber. Her words sounded hollow to Tess, laced with desperation.
“I don’t seek to challenge you, Mab,” Molly replied, advancing toward her quarry with slow, sinuous steps. When the sorceress spoke, Tess couldn’t forget that it was her best friend. Her voice had changed the least out of everything. Molly drew a darkly gleaming black blade from the sheath at her waist. “I seek to destroy you.”
“I am anointed by the First!” screamed Mab, her eyes white-rimmed and her beautiful face stretched in a rictus of madness, foam flecking her lips. “I am bestowed my power by the gods!”
“A mere fragment of the First anointed the High Queen,” replied Molly with eerie calm, nodding to Vell where she stood observing the duel. Vell showed no sign of recognition, her golden eyes flat and hard as she watched. Molly turned back to Mab. Tess couldn’t see what she lifted from her throat, but she knew it was the silver-wrapped river stone. “And a mere fragment of another deity will destroy you.”
“I have possession of another one of those stones,” snarled Mab. “That is nothing I have not already held in my own hands!”
Tess felt a prickle of alarm. Had Mab somehow used her river stone to gain some sort of immunity against Malravenar’s power?
No, said the Sword. It is anathema to her.
“Oh, but you have not felt the touch of a black blade turned from your late Vaelanbrigh’s Brighbranr,” purred Molly. “You have not felt the touch of my power, gleaned from an Exile and a bone sorcerer and my own hatred.” She flicked her hand again and another cut opened on Mab’s opposite cheek.
“I am the Queen!” howled Mab, the echoes of baying hounds and seas crashing against cliffs in her voice. “I will do with my Court what I will! They are mine, in life and in death! They are mine!”
“No more,” said Molly, the black blade crackling with dark fire.
The tentacles of shadow doubled their pace, coiling around Mab until only her torso was visible. Blood and spittle ran down Mab’s chin and neck, her hair escaping its net in tendrils as she thrashed.
“Enough,” Molly said in
a voice so low that Tess almost didn’t hear the word. Two thick ropes of darkness lashed around Mab’s wrists, rendering her talons useless. The Unseelie Queen looked wildly at Vell and Titania.
“Sisters, help me,” she said – not begging, still commanding, though her voice broke in desperation.
For the first time, Tess saw fear cross Mab’s face. Vell and Titania looked on stoically. Tess glimpsed mingled disgust and pity on her brother’s face, and a flash of something like satisfaction cross Finnead’s expression for an instant.
“I am the Queen of the Unseelie Court, by benediction of the First!” screamed Mab again. Her voice held no power, fraying at the edges in terror as Molly closed the last distance between them, the black blade shimmering with unearthly fire. Smoke curled from the sorceress, as though the power she wielded burned her from the inside.
The bone sorceress drew back her blade and plunged it into Mab. The Unseelie Queen’s howl stretched on and became a shrieking tempest of wind, shaking the foundations of the throne room, throwing the candelabras against the stone walls and flinging the skulls of her slain subjects through the air, picking up every loose object and turning into a deadly missile.
Tess threw up a shield against the maelstrom, leaning her whole body into the glowing construction that had taken the form of her usual shield, strapped to her left forearm. Several hard objects hit her shield with such force that tendrils of pain shot up her arm into her shoulder. She gritted her teeth and set loose more of the Sword’s power, letting it build a larger protection in front of her. Through the shield that sparked whenever a sharp shard of bone or twisted coil of metal hit it, Tess saw Molly and Mab, locked in mortal struggle. The dying Unseelie Queen sank her talons into the sorceress, pulling her closer in a deadly embrace. The corrupted Brighbranr, now buried to the hilt just below Mab’s breasts, sent curling tendrils of dark fire across the Queen’s skin, the black stone in its pommel rolling with shadows like an awakened eye.
Tess heard Molly’s scream added to the chaos of Mab’s death throes. The scarlet lines of the runes on Molly’s skin brightened and crackled with real fire, as though an inferno raged within the sorceress, her body the vessel for a hellish power. Heat and smoke rolled from her, mixing with the freezing cold and ice of the Unseelie Queen. Tess pushed forward against the boundary set by the other two Queens, and it gave way. The Sword rebuked her sharply as she took a step toward Molly and Mab.
This is not your fight, the Caedbranr said.
She is my friend, Tess replied helplessly. She didn’t know any other explanation.
She was your friend, replied the Sword. And now she is a Dark sorceress.
Tess took another step forward against the raging chaos. Molly’s scream entwined with Mab’s howl as Molly fell to her knees, her hands still gripping the hilt of the dark blade.
This is not your fight, the Caedbranr thundered, its words resonating through her bones.
The edges of Tess’s vision wavered as the Sword’s power squeezed her lungs, stealing her breath in warning. She fell to one knee in an echo of Molly.
“Damn you,” she gasped, and she wasn’t sure whether she was talking to the Sword or to Molly.
Dark patches of ash crackled on Mab’s face, but the Unseelie Queen caught Molly by the throat with one hand. She wrenched the sorceress’s hands away from the sword embedded in her torso, and threw Molly aside. Tess pushed herself to her feet.
“Is it my fight if Molly isn’t going to kill Mab?” she demanded hoarsely.
You are not the only other, the Caedbranr replied.
As Molly struggled to regain her feet, Tess caught the flash of silver hair behind Mab. Appearing out of the maelstrom of smoke and ice like a deadly ghost, Tyr swiftly and unerringly drove his silver dagger into the place where Mab’s spine met her skull. Mab fell as Molly threw a lashing rope of dark fire at her enemy. Mab’s staring eyes disappeared in a blaze of black flames, and wind rushed toward the center of the throne room, as physically strong as a tide pulling at Tess’s feet.
Brace yourself, the Sword advised unnecessarily – Tess had already dropped to both knees, curling her body behind her shield even though the Sword’s shimmering wall still protected her as well.
The explosion ripped through the throne room, bright white followed by pitch black, so strong that it was soundless. Tess lost awareness of even her own body for a moment, and then sensation slowly returned. She dragged in a breath and ran through her automatic check: both arms and legs were there and functioning, though the arm that held her shield ached and the hand gripping the Sword stung as though burned. Blinking spots from her vision, she staggered to her feet, letting go of the conjured shield, allowing it to dissipate back into emerald fire that flowed up her war-markings.
The explosion seemed to have been mostly light and noise, because as Tess scanned the cavernous chamber, she saw with relief that everything looked intact. Even those closest to Mab and Molly hadn’t been consumed by the blast – though Tyr lay prone on the throne room floor, limbs flung as he’d fallen, he was still there.
Mab’s corpse lay a few strides away from Tyr. A few smudges of ash darkened her pale skin, and the cuts Molly had inflicted remained. The point of Tyr’s dagger gleamed at her throat. If Tess hadn’t known better, she might have thought it was a jewel suspended on some delicate chain.
Tess’s hearing trickled back as she swallowed against the bile rising in her throat. Her eyes found the second dark-clad body near Mab. Part of her waited for Molly to stir, and part of her dreaded it, because then it would beg the question of who would have to kill her.
Ramel reached Molly first, kneeling beside her still form. The air tasted acrid, tinged with a scent sharper than burned flesh. Tess didn’t have to put the question into words. The mingled relief and sorrow written across Ramel’s face as he sat back on his heels and ran his hand through his copper hair answered the query. She didn’t fight the tears that welled up in her eyes, and she didn’t care that she was allowing her emotions to dictate her actions. The Sword, for once, remained silent as she wordlessly stood beside Ramel. Molly’s dark hair, grown long during her time in the Fae world, covered most of her face. The scarlet markings still painted her skin, the edges of each line charred. Ramel stood. Tess sheathed the Sword and embraced him. Her old friend buried his head in her shoulder as his body shook with the grief he could finally express. One of her hands found the back of his head and combed through his hair comfortingly as they stood amidst the carnage of the battle to free the Unseelie Court from their mad queen’s reign of terror, mourning Molly’s death.
Tess watched over Ramel’s shoulder as Vivian flew to Tyr, her face white with fear. The Paladin dropped to her knees just as Ramel had done mere moments before, but as her seeking hands pressed against Tyr’s chest, she closed her eyes and breathed a sigh of relief. Tyr coughed and stirred, blinking dazedly as he opened his silvery eyes. Vivian helped him sit up, concern written across her face. She murmured something to him and he shook his head slightly.
The Vyldretning and the Seelie Queen solemnly approached Mab’s body. Through the tears still gathering in her own eyes and rolling down her cheeks, Tess tried to discern any hint of sorrow from the two other Queens. Vell looked at Mab’s body, nodded once and then turned away, speaking to Liam and Finnead in a low voice. Titania stood there longer, gazing down at the body of the woman who had been her counterpart for centuries. Her Three stood arrayed behind her, slender Ailin to her right, Gawain in the center and tall, broad-chested Niall to her left. Ailin bowed his head respectfully, Gawain watched Titania, and Niall stared down at Mab’s corpse, his pale eyes glittering.
Ramel straightened and drew back from Tess with a nod. He’d always had an expressive face for one of the Fae, but now he smoothed it into the mask they all wore so well. Tess wiped at her wet face with the heel of one hand, though she knew she had more latitude to display emotion simply because she’d once been mortal.
Nearly simultan
eously, they all became aware of another powerful presence in the throne room. Tess turned. Near the doors that led from the courtyard to the throne room, her blue eyes traveling over the gruesome carnage, stood Andraste. A flash of surprise jolted through Tess.
Andraste walked slowly across the throne room, her gaze settling on fragments of shattered skulls and the ruined bodies of Mab’s hounds. Sayre and Guinna walked behind her, both dressed for battle. A few other Unseelie, some looking dazed, some triumphant and some weary beyond words, followed in a ragged column. Tess glanced at Ramel, but his unreadable expression didn’t waver as he watched Andraste draw near. She looked at Finnead, but he stood behind Vell with nothing more than courteous interest in his eyes.
Titania reached down and delicately picked up Mab’s silver diadem from the floor where it had fallen during her death throes. Andraste stood silently before her sister’s body. She glanced at Molly and then back to Mab, her scarred face betraying no emotion. She held a sword in one hand, but it wasn’t stained with gore. Tess thought that Andraste had probably arrived after most of the fighting had died down.
Queen Titania turned to Princess Andraste, holding the Unseelie crown on her fingertips. “The Queen is dead,” she pronounced solemnly.
Andraste bowed her dark head, and Titania placed the crown upon it. The diadem blazed bright as a star as Andraste straightened and raised her chin.
“Long live the Queen,” said a voice that Tess had never heard. She looked sharply over at Tyr; Vivian gaped at him with unreserved shock.
“Long live the Queen,” repeated Titania gracefully, raising her mellifluous voice so that all could hear her.
“Long live the Queen,” said Sayre and Guinna in unison, and the cry was thus passed through the rest of the Unseelie in the throne room.
Exhaustion settled onto Tess’s shoulders as she turned her attention back to surveying the damage. She couldn’t bring herself to feel any kind of excitement about the new Unseelie Queen. The first wave of wrenching grief had subsided – perhaps she’d already partially mourned Molly after she’d found out that her friend had embraced Corsica’s offer and the bone sorcerer’s knowledge. Her chest still ached, but she knew that now they had to begin the painful tasks that occurred after every battle: gathering the wounded, counting the dead and preparing them for their pyre.