Burn for Me (Edanholme Book 1)

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Burn for Me (Edanholme Book 1) Page 24

by Catherine Fitzpatrick


  her birth. “I’m so sorry…”

  She whispered to the surrounding oaks before blasting wide the doors leading to the throne

  room. Cat could hear her own frantic heartbeat above the stillness of scores of noble bodies

  crowding her vision. A path was laid out, as males of equal beauty shuffled away from the

  promise of violence. Six tall figures emerged, to hold back a mass of goggling Sidhe.

  Nodding thanks to her marked mates, she strode forward with a phalanx of armed warriors

  at her back.

  “Hey Grandma, guess who’s come to visit.” Cat trilled in manic tones as she advanced on

  the throne. Catching a glimpse of Drusal standing tall and proud at the Queens right hand,

  she blew him a kiss.

  This is sneaking? He blasted at her, arms wedged tightly over an armoured chest.

  I re-thought the plan, grovelling is not in my nature.

  A growling laugh resounded in her mind as Drusal shook his head in resignation.

  Istirina rose from the throne, resplendent in the same blood red gown as the night before.

  “You dare to enter my court uninvited child?” Stepping down from the interwoven branches

  of glittering oak, the Queen glowed red gold, in homage to the fire element.

  Gliding to a halt, a mere hand span from the creature who had tried so often to demean and

  denigrate the heir to this Court, Cat smiled, a gentle reminder of Teyrnon’s nobility of spirit.

  “I do so dare my Grandmother.” The smile widened into a wicked grin.

  “I am not the one who broke the truce. I am not the one who sold mate and Granddaughter

  to the Dark Court, in a desperate attempt to hold onto a reign that is fragmenting under the

  weight of its Sovereign’s depravity.”

  Turning to face the males whose lives were controlled by a Queen who held them in less

  esteem than vermin, Cat offered to them as a whole the deference of allegiance, protection

  and love.

  “You greet my Court, but fail to greet me?” The whiplash of Istirina’s hate shot out in a

  useless effort to wipe out the latest viper in their midst.

  “You have not the decency to dress appropriately and expect to be respected?” Returning

  to the throne, Istrina draped herself close to the one male Cat would die for.

  “Little thing, you come unarmed into my home.” The Queen ran her hand over Drusal’s thigh,

  all the while smiling with confidence at her control over the males.

  Turning to face Drusal, Cat offered him the form of love, bowing low.

  “I am armed Grandmother…” Shimmering from head to toe, she became Iscatya, with all the

  attributes Teyrnon had gifted to her. Fangs gleaming she registered the shock on Drusal’s

  face. Close your mouth Fur ball…

  Her thought flashed to him in an instant. I warned you, how distasteful my Sidhe form is.

  Burgundy hair undulating over her shoulders, gold streaks playing in arcs of flaming light,

  Cat faced her mirror image.

  “Grandmother you may be stunningly beautiful, but I make jeans and t-shirt look hot…”

  A melange of male voices grunted in agreement at her statement.

  “The fangs were a gift. Grandfather sent his farewells as he burnt to ashes. Did you plan

  for me to exterminate a discarded mate who would not die? Or did you hope that we

  would kill each other?” Pacing the floor, hair wildly out of control, Cat assimilated the fear

  on the Queen’s face.

  “Sorry to disappoint you, but The Lord Teyrnon gave me more than fangs, he made me the

  ruler of the Dark Court. In doing so, I stand before you as an equal. I make no deference to

  one who is no more than I.”

  Istirina’s laugh was vicious as she gripped tightly at Drusal’s thigh.

  “A vampire my equal… You overestimate the power that emboldens the waste that was

  once the Dark dimension. You are deluded by the self-importance of ruling a nation of

  walking dead.” Sitting forward on the throne, luxurious hair skimming alabaster shoulders,

  Istirina sneered at the female built in her image.

  Pacing in front of the throne, a picture of volatile impatience, Cat caught Turi’s eye, shrugging

  off the heavy jacket she tossed it to him with a wink.

  With a wide grin of approval, he snatched it from the air. “Grandmother Dearest…”

  Planting her boots firmly in front of the throne, hands on ample hips, she hooked both thumbs

  into the waist band of skinny jeans. “In betraying your bonded mate you did not break his will.

  Teyrnon was not idle as he languished in the dark. Grandfather wrought subtle changes in his

  subjects. Their thirst is quenched. They are free to walk in daylight, as am I. The dark Court will

  rise to meet a new era with my help.” Her eyes sought Drusal’s. Cat was explaining the shift in

  power, more to her mate than to a Queen who wallowed in her own invincibility.

  “I have not come to test your strength. I come only to take my marked mates. As a paid up

  member of the Sidhe, you cannot deny me the right to take the males whose bodies belong

  to me.” A wall of tall warriors overshadowed Cat as she lay down the ancient lore to her

  maternal Grandmother with no fear and a bucket load of spite.

  “Showme these marks you are so inordinately proud of.” Istirina kept a firm hold on Drusal.

  The fear on the Dark Hound’s face was apparent to all the Court. He was not deemed worthy

  enough to be counted amongst the favoured of a Princess.

  Sending out the element appropriate to the six warriors at her back, Cat invoked the brands

  of marking in a display of earth, air, fire and water. A green glow hovered over Turi’s heart

  and Phelan’s Brow. The air element, a wreath of misty cloud encircled Teague’s throat in a

  dance of joy. Fire burned blinding white and heated red on the wrists of Charon and Fintan,

  an affirmation of their dominant life force. Water formed a coat of ice over Kynthelig’s palm.

  With a warm breath he blew on his hand to disperse a second skin in a fine spray of crystal

  droplets in Cat’s direction.

  “They are yours Iscatya. I cannot deny the obvious brands of mating… I see no mark on my

  Hound, therefore him I keep.” Licking at her lips, Istirina ran an arm round Drusal’s waist.

  Anguished at all he was about to lose, a frown creased the proud warrior’s brow in dull

  acceptance of his fate. With a bow of deference and respect, he sent Cat a wash of love.

  Go… Take my brothers and leave before the Queen reneges upon the truce.

  A smile as cunning as any Istirina could hope to conjure lifted the corners of Cat’s lips.

  “You think to take my eternal mate Grandmother?” Lifting both hands out to Drusal she

  sent to him all the elements that bonded them as one. “Burn for me my love….”

  A whisper of devotion, a regal command, held the males of Court spellbound.

  Tongues of flame, alive with all the colours of the rainbow engulfed Drusal. As light as air

  he shifted to settle at the side of his glowing mate, arm settling around her waist he kissed

  her solidly on the mouth, staking his claim. I am marked…?

  The tenor of his question was amazed, and infinitely adoring.

  Yes, and so much more. I marked you as soon after your brethren as I could. The mark is

  soul deep and binding. I can release you if you wish it?

  No… Drusal tightened his grip on the female who resembled all that he hated.

  Get us out of here before I harangue you with all
angst I have suffered at your hands.

  With all her men at her back Cat faced the Queen’s anger with sangfroid.

  “The Lord Vardon belongs to me. His essence I hold, as he holds mine.” Easing away from

  the vibrant strength emanating from the bonds of all mates, she took a step nearer the

  throne. A figure of immense beauty and untold power had no wish to start a true war,

  but stood ready to finish one if need be.

  “I take only that which is rightfully mine. I will not strike a blow at you grandmother, not

  unless you force my hand. Can we not have peace as we strive to survive in this modern

  world?” A true child of a gracious Grandfather offered a way out for a malicious Queen.

  With a wave of one hand Istirina called forth Dardanos. The giant troll drove straight

  through the Sidhe nobles, an entourage of hideous soldiers at his back.

  Cat turned to face the threat bearing down on them, holding up a hand to Drusal who

  had unsheathed the huge bronze sword at his back at the first sign of danger.

  “It appears not…” Flicking a fingernail on gleaming fangs she frowned at a Queen hell

  bent on destruction, nose curling in utter contempt.

  “We meet again Dardanos the Devourer.” A sweet smile curved across her mouth as she

  scanned the horde of trolls. “Brought your beastie boys with you this time?”

  With a swirl of one hand she entangled them in a web of ice and fire, an ethereal cage,

  none but she could disperse.

  “Did you learn nothing from our last encounter? I will not be threatened.” Emerald eyes

  flashing derision at her Grandmother’s enraged face, Iscatya flicked her fingers at the

  bound mass of ugly storm troopers. “Bye, bye, boys…”

  The throne room was emptied of the stench of death, from one breath to the next.

  With a snarl the Queen shot a lance of fire directly at her Granddaughter, a whip-lash

  of hate and jealousy.

  Drusal blocked the strike easily, with a shield of ice that fractured into prisms of light.

  Cat held back the frightened curse aimed at his mind. The strength of a Sidhe warrior

  bolstered by the four elements of her life force stood firm enough to hold off any form

  of attack Istirina could conjure. “Tut, tut Grandmother…”

  Placing her fingers over her mate’s outstretched arm, she gently ushered him to stand

  behind her. “Trying to kill me in front of witnesses, you really are losing the plot. My death

  would precede your own downfall, summary execution is the penalty for murder.”

  A sadistic bitch under the banner of a ruling monarch had delivered pain and the promise

  of death with no remorse. Stepping up to the throne, Cat locked eyes on the face of the

  female who thought she was above reproach, beyond reprisal.

  “I am the law… These are my subjects, my vassals. They will do as I say, and I say you and

  your sex slaves are too dangerous to live.” Leaning back on the throne Istirina smouldered,

  heavy lidded eyes darkened to pools of inky black. “Take them prisoner my loyal males.”

  Her scream rocked the throne room, as a mass of bodies crowded towards the warriors

  surrounding the Princessin.

  Without a second thought Iscatya built a protective barrier to encircle the floor space they

  held. Sending calming thoughts to the males connected to her by the mate marks, she

  steadied hands that held broadswords flailing in a ring of glittering bronze.

  It was an impasse…

  Cat and her bodyguards could translocate to safety, but she wasn’t going to leave Istirina

  free to gloat over an ignominious retreat. Pushing the barrier outwards, clearing a space

  wide enough for her to pace the throne room, Iscatya sent out a blast of power directly to

  the Queen’s mind.

  I did not want to be the one to show you the errors of your reign. I was blissfully unaware

  of my heritage until the fear in your heart made me an enemy of that reign. You are my

  Grandmother, I was your Granddaughter… I deny that connection now and forever.

  You have left me no choice.

  Cat’s pacing brought her eye to eye with a Queen, locked to her throne in disbelief at the

  raging denunciation in her head. Iscatya stood squarely in front of the throne, palms raised

  up, as if beseeching a blessing from the ruler of the Sovereign Court.

  “I am Iscatya Edan-Fire, the Lady Vardon, Queen of the Dark Court and Edanholme.”

  The brands on her arms blazed with blue fire as the crystal swords shimmered to life in

  a chorus of disharmony. Clasping the hilts firmly Cat held the swords above her head, tips

  meeting with a backlash of sonic fury that rocked the ground beneath her feet.

  “I have been empowered with the guardianship of the oppressed by the Fates. The Swords

  of Justice, Saoirse and Breith hold the choice of freedom or doom. I wield those choices.

  I make the law…” Voice dropping an octave, menace dripping in every musical note, the

  Princess Iscatya Edan-Fire of the Sovereign Court delivered the coup de grace, as a Queen

  in her own right. A brilliant pin point of coruscating energy arced to sear the ceiling above

  her head. Lowering the laser thin beam of light to sit above the throne Cat breathed slowly,

  releasing the song of the swords in an auditory barrage that knocked the Court to its knees.

  “I could take your life so easily Istirina.” The soft whisper was edged with the threat of dire

  vengeance for all the atrocities the Queen had committed. “That is not who I am.”

  Unlocking the points of the swords Cat crossed them across her breast.

  “I leave you in peace with those who wish to live in a sterile realm. Any of your subjects

  with the desire to dwell in a world ready to embrace all species will be welcome in my

  Court. I promise here and now, I will never step foot in your domain without invitation,

  unless I have need to. I also promise you will never get to play beyond the borders of

  Withins Underhill…” With the deference shown to equals Cat touched Saoirse to her

  forehead before spreading her arm wide. “Fare well Istirina… I know I will.”

  Locking the warriors to her mind, Iscatya translocated beyond a tainted reach in the

  blink of an eye.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Drusal had been held transfixed by the power play between females of similar visage but

  dissimilar hearts. Istirina had been beaten back, by the unstoppable might of the swords

  of justice, in the hands of a worthy guardian. In his heart he knew the blackness that

  consumed the soul of his previous mistress would not be deterred by the warning implicit

  in a display of energetic forces, power that could destroy the universe if it so wished.

  The battle for freedom was over. The real war had just begun.

  The compassion in his mate’s heart for all living beings was commendable, but vermin had

  to be eradicated. If the choice had been his, he would have parted the beautiful head from

  a voluptuous body without a moment’s pause.

  “Why let the witch live…?” He breathed into Cat’s ear as they shimmered into being on the

  verdant lawn in front of Cat’s kitchen.

  A frown of annoyance puckered the smooth brow of Iscatya, Queen of two realms.

  “No-one deserves to die because they are foolish. Why do you think, I brought you back

  from the brink of the abyss?” Turning to face her mate Cat held the Swords of Justice out

  to him. “Could you t
ake my life if I became as immoral as Istirina?”

  Backing away from a female with the power to scatter his atoms to the ether, Drusal shook

  his head in instant denial, he wasn’t an idiot. He would stake his life on the constancy of his

  mate’s generous spirit, on the love of life that garnered her soul.

  “No, I didn’t think so… She may be useless as a Queen but she is still of my blood. I do not love

  her, but her essence made me who I am.” Holding her hands palm up Cat willed the swords

  into abeyance. “Her power is bound to Withins Underhill. Beyond those confines, her will

  to dominate is diminished to a whisper of command. We have to make ready for an influx

  of refugees, Sidhe, vampire and human. The diversity of all three nations has the capacity

  to subdue any further bid for domination, until a depraved court collapses from lack of new

  blood.”

  Dropping to one knee Drusal offered his life to a female with the capacity to envisage a

  world free of restraint, a mate with a heart big enough to forgive all the pain an evil tyrant

  had inflicted upon her in a remorseless attempt to hold onto a redundant throne.

  The rattling of leather armour and countless weapons assaulted Cat’s ears as seven Sidhe

  warriors bent on one knee to declare allegiance to their new Monarch.

  “Hey guys… This is not what I want. You are free to live a life that is your own.”

  Cat’s hyper-alert senses registered Alex hovering behind the glass doors of the kitchen.

  “Get to your feet, embrace the challenge of independence. Edanholme holds no throne

  of power to subsume the free will accorded to any being willing to accept the differences

  inherent in us all.” Cat offered co-existence with a get out clause, if bigotry decided to rear

  it’s ugly head in her realm. “I want to introduce you to my sister in spirit.”

  A mental command flowed to all the warriors. My sister is to be treated with the respect

  due to any female, whether Sidhe or human.

  Six heads lifted in unison, Drusal let his gaze linger on the human female hiding beyond the

 

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