The muscles in Finn’s arm tensed into hard bands. Fate turned to look at him. His eyes were closed behind his black Colombina mask, his jaw set tight.
“What is it?” she asked.
His eyes opened. They were dark and disturbing. “I can see the serpent inside Moria. There’s nothing but black rot in her heart. She finds these people loathsome.” When he looked at Fate his eyes lightened, only to turn dark again when his gaze returned to the empress. “There’s something inside her––some sort of demon. It’s what lights the red fire in her eyes. We have to stop her. She means to crush this empire to dust.”
Fate looked at the empress, unable to see the demon he spoke of.
A troupe of performers paraded past and began entertaining the guests and royal party for the next hour. Surprisingly, the last and most highly acclaimed performer of the night was Sithias. After several encores, he ended off with a tragic comedy. Everyone cheered, showering him with flowers and gold coins.
She started toward Sithias, but admirers were swarming around him.
Finn took her hand, flashing a dashing smile as he did so. “Would you care to dance?”
Her heart fluttered against her breastbone like a frightened bird in a cage as she followed him onto the dance floor and fell in step with the other dancers to a somewhat stilted waltz. She was playing a fool’s game by loving someone whose heart was divided and who couldn’t remember he hated her for inventing him. But she clung to the fact that Finn had chosen to leave Tove to be with her. And as far as his origins were concerned, she could only hope he never remembered.
“You’re a hard one to figure out, lass. One minute you’re as soft and warm as a feather bed, and the next as impenetrable as granite.” He tapped a finger over her heart. “Tell me, love, what’s going on in there?”
His touch made her knees go weak. “I––”
“May I have this dance?” asked a young man whose face was hidden behind a baroque lion mask.
The look Finn gave him was sharp and Fate thought he’d say no. But he surprised her by bowing out without a word. Feeling trapped, she watched him disappear behind a sea of people. As her new partner talked about how much he enjoyed the leg of mutton stuffed with garlic, she did her best to smile and act like she was interested. But when he turned the subject of food to roasted blackbirds and a list of other poor birds she’d never consider eating, she simply nodded while scanning the masked faces for Finn. Was it too much to ask for one peaceful moment to get comfortable with each other without something always getting in the way?
When the dance ended, she tried to escape but an endless line of suitors hedged her in and kept her whirling around the dance floor for the next hour. As much as she wanted to make an abrupt, probably rude exit, she couldn’t risk offending the wrong person. Maybe she’d have to pull a faint. Odds were good that having a touch of the vapors was perfectly acceptable in a time of tight corsets.
“May I have this next dance?” someone asked from behind her.
“I’m sorry, but I do believe I’m feeling faint and must sit down,” she said breathily as she turned with all the fragility she could muster up. When she saw Finn standing there, heat flooded her face.
He gave her an amused smile. “I thought you said you weren’t one of those wimpy fainters.”
“I am if it’ll end this torture.” She frowned. “Where have you been?”
“Waiting in line. It seems someone’s taken an interest in orchestrating your dance card to save you from being devoured by these hungry wolves all at once.”
She rolled her eyes. “Good God, someone has a twisted sense of kindness.”
“How about we sneak out ‘til it’s time for the bonfire?”
“Yes, me and my sore feet thank you,” she said as they waltzed off the dance floor.
Taking the nearest stairwell leading to the outer bailey, they joined the lesser gentry who were boisterously celebrating with music, dance and wine. Removing her mask, she kicked off her satin slippers. The cool grass soothed the ache in her feet, but she was still much too warm and wanted to be barefoot. Hiking up her skirt, she started rolling one of the thick stockings down the length of her thigh when Finn tugged the skirt back down in place.
“You have an audience,” he said, directing a protective scowl at some leering faces nearby. He scooped her up off her feet with a devilish smile. “It’s best I let them know you’re with me, temptress.”
She gave a little gasp, then laughed and wrapped her arms around his neck. He carried her effortlessly to the nearest turret, up the stairs to the south rampart, taking a seat on the parapet and keeping her on his lap.
Wanting to see his face, she slipped off his mask. His tousled bangs fell into his eyes. As she brushed them off his forehead, she saw that his gaze had turned to the ocean. Resting her head on his shoulder, she stared out at the water, where the sinking sun spilled its radiance over the calm sea and the horizon blazed with the last of its fully ripened light. For once, everything was perfect.
“We don’t have long before the fires are lit,” he said, his tone grave. “Listen, when Moria comes out to light the bonfire, I want you to find Sithias and go back to the caravan.”
Not so perfect.
She sat straight and looked at him. “That’s not the plan. I’m back-up, remember? And I still think writing up a Gloom dragon to fly her into the Gray Waste of Hades is way better than O’Deldar’s idea.”
“Too risky. Do I need to remind you of the Green Man debacle?”
“I’m staying.”
He frowned. “No, I can’t have you there.”
“Why?”
“You know what I intend to do to Moria, and I’m telling you it’ll be hideous in comparison to throwing those men to the oaks.”
They’d gone over the plan in great detail with O’Deldar. She’d argued against the method in which the two of them had decided to stop Moria, but after much discussion, she’d agreed in the end. “No…I’m staying,” she said, gulping back her apprehension.
He pulled her close, his embrace tight and desperate. “Fate, you need to know––the poison…its been stirring up revolting thoughts that leave me feeling ugly as sin. It’s growing inside me like a seed of rage that thrives on punishing others in the most unspeakable of ways.”
“I won’t leave, I can’t,” she whispered, her lips brushing lightly against his neck.
His hands slid along her back until they reached her neck. She shivered feverishly under his touch. He tilted her chin back with his thumbs, staring longingly at her parted lips. Barely able to breathe, she closed her eyes, feeling his warm mouth exploring the line of her jaw.
Suddenly his lips pressed hungrily against hers.
She was wholly unprepared for the sweet taste of his mouth and the hot waves crashing through her body. Coiling her fingers through his hair, she pulled him close, kissing him deeply, wildly.
He pulled away after a few seconds. “Wait, slow down.”
She trembled all over. His kiss eclipsed every pale imagining she’d ever had.
“You have no idea how much I want this, but it’s not the place, or the time,” he said, his breath ragged with desire and his eyes flaming bright green.
“It’s Beltane, and we’re promised…it feels right,” she whispered back.
“By all that’s holy, it surely does, but not here––not now.”
Urged on by the thundering beat of his heart against hers, she pressed against him. But his conflicted gaze had already moved to the orange sliver of light slicing thin across the dark horizon. “No, it’s time to deal with Moria.”
Feeling like he’d just thrown her in frigid water, she stared at him, angry and frustrated. “I don’t care about any of that.”
He set her off his lap and stood up. “One of us needs to keep a cool head.” His tone had changed.
An icy trickle of fear slid down her spine. Within a heartbeat, Finn had transformed. He seemed taller, radiating a dange
rous, concentrated energy that scorched away who he was, leaving him unrecognizable––a stranger who stared blindly past her with the cold, emotionless eyes of a killer.
Chapter 22
WHEN THEY ARRIVED BACK INSIDE the castle, the royal guests had crowded onto a wide terrace overlooking the outer bailey, while those of dubious title gathered below. Moria stood at the tip of the balcony, which extended over a giant pile of timbers almost as tall as the terrace itself.
“If you’re going to stay, stand here at the very back,” Finn whispered to Fate, his hands gripping her shoulders to keep her at arm’s length.
She held her mouth in a tight line as she nodded, fear and anger in her eyes.
Resisting the urge to pull her into his arms again, he let go and pushed his way through the guests pressing in close to the front. Having Fate anywhere near him made it impossible to concentrate on what must be done. When he reached the terrace’s balustrade, he could see Moria holding a torch to light the bonfire below. Scanning the crowd, he found O’Deldar. The sage acknowledged him with an unwavering gaze of encouragement before turning to escort Tynan and Kaura away. The Druid priest had played his part: remove the heir prince before the chaos began.
An expectant hush fell over the hot sultry night until the only sound was that of the waves crashing against the moonlit shore. Moria seemed to glow as she delivered a lofty speech on the holy day of light. Her words inspired everyone under her spell, but rang hollow in Finn’s ears.
Closing his eyes, he sampled the atmosphere with his extraordinary senses. In his mind’s eye, he could see dark slithering specters emanating from the dragon empress, reaching out, feeding on the adulation of those she meant to destroy.
Justifiable hatred surged through him like an electric jolt. Wanting to get closer, he shouldered his way through the guests gathering close to the front of the terrace. Those nearest him drew back as if afraid. He stopped several yards from Moria and whistled two rune notes ever so softly. He smiled with satisfaction when he saw the breeze he’d summoned sweep over the sweltering faces of those nearby. Licking his lips, he whistled another rune note––a more powerful one––and felt the immediate tension of forces unleash from the North.
The breeze transformed into a sudden, icy gale and rushed at Moria. As she gripped the railing for support, Finn knew the bitter chill had slowed her serpent’s blood.
Fate grabbed Sithias by the arm and hauled him toward the front of the balcony. Curling his wings back, he tried not to disturb anyone as they wedged themselves past others who were also trying to get a better view, but his harp twanged and heads turned.
“Misss, what isss ssso terribly presssing that we need to be rudely pushing our way to the front?”
“I can’t see from back there.”
“Didn’t Finn sssay sssomething about ssstaying at the back?” He stroked his goatee with a baffled expression. “If I remember correctly, he sssaid it wasss of the utmossst importance. Why isss that?”
She stopped and looked at him. “Are you serious?” She stood on her toes and whispered in his ear, “Finn’s going to destroy Moria. You do remember the plan, don’t you?”
He looked alarmed. “Why would he want to dessstroy sssuch a beautiful rossse?”
She rolled her eyes in frustration. “Snap out of it. You’re under Moria’s spell. Remember how she plans to ruin the kingdom by first turning Tynan into a dragon tonight?”
“Oh…quite right.”
A frigid wind raged over them. Everyone gasped.
Shivering, Sithias hugged his arms. “Oh, thisss isss awful. It feelsss like the Twisssted Bone Foressst all over again.”
As much as Fate agreed, she pushed her way as close to the front as she could. Peering between the stubborn few ahead of her who wouldn’t budge, she caught sight of the empress looking ashen-faced as the icy wind tore at her beautiful gown. Searching for Finn, she spotted him standing on the other side of the balcony. The ruthless line of his lips and the depthless stare in his jet-black eyes chilled her far more than the North wind he’d summoned.
Her insides twisted with dread as he moved toward Moria, slowly and purposely.
When the empress saw him reach inside his breast pocket, she signaled the guards. They closed around him as he pulled out his flute.
“Your highness,” Finn said with a bow, “it would be my greatest pleasure to play a song to warm your heart, if not the air, while you light the Beltane fire.”
The torch in Moria’s hand guttered in the wintry wind as she scrutinized him. Fate worried she would somehow know Finn was the one who’d called the winds, but when she signaled the guards to stand down, she realized the empress didn’t have a clue about his powers.
“This is highly unusual,” Moria said, her voice silky despite the chill.
“A North wind as cold and strong as this during Beltane?” Finn said. “Indeed it is.”
The empress gave him her nod of approval, then returned her gaze to those waiting below. Finn began playing a soft, seductive melody. The notes seemed to gentle the wind, but the frosty air still bit the skin.
Someone bumped into Fate. She turned to see Sithias swaying drunkenly to the music. His dazed, amber eyes were fixed on Finn’s flute. “What’s wrong with you?” she asked.
“Sssuch entrancing musssic…” he muttered.
When Sithias started to dance toward the tip of the balcony, Fate held onto his arm, realizing Finn’s music was influencing him as well. For all their planning, they’d forgotten one important detail. Sithias was a serpent too. She glanced at Moria, who seemed equally drunk; especially in the way she tossed the torch onto the bonfire as if she were throwing away garbage.
The torch landed on the timber below. Flames fanned by the brisk wind consumed the giant pile with an unnatural fury.
Everyone cheered and backed away from the sudden blaze and intense heat.
The empress turned to Finn with a look of longing. Her body––a vessel of pure sexuality––swayed to his music. Holding her fixed within his dark hypnotic gaze, he played each note as if his fingers caressed her ivory skin.
Fate’s heart hammered chaotically. Why hadn’t she listened to Finn? He’d been right, she didn’t want to see this.
Moria’s undulating movements roused an immediate primeval lust within Finn, an involuntary urge he resented–– further fueling his loathing for the demon she truly was. Moria was used to transfixing men and stripping them of their senses. But he was the one with the power here. He had the vile serpent mesmerized. It was her turn to suffer for the evil she’d inflicted on so many others.
The darkness inside him swelled like never before, merging with the energy of the Elder race runes embedded in his skin. As the two forces blended, he felt the thrill of a wild, dark power hissing and sparking past his lips.
He continued playing the beguiling tune, now adding a rune note to bend the wind to his will. All it took was a mere thought to plunge the gust downward to the base of the bonfire and stoke the fire from the bottom up. Without warning, the flames flared skyward into a raging inferno.
Onlookers stumbled back from the intense heat with cries of shock and surprise.
He narrowed his gaze on Moria, his fingers flicking rapidly over the holes of the flute. She danced wildly, flinging her head back and tearing at the neckline of her gown as if suffocated by it. Then her eyes fixed on the flames flickering well above the balustrade. He could tell she was drawn to the heat. Her cold, reptilian blood craved warmth, an instinct that pushed her closer until she stretched over the railing and hung over the scorching fire.
She was right where he wanted her.
Savoring the power he wielded, Finn waited for a fraction of time, then blew the final note. The blaze burst high in a wave of voracious flames, engulfing Moria and flooding across the balcony. As the molten tide flowed over those closest to the empress, chaos broke loose as blood-curdling screams echoed over the courtyard and human torches pitched themselves
over the edge.
The sudden burst of flames, scalding heat and ensuing pandemonium galvanized Fate into action. She hauled Sithias backward but not fast enough. Half his wing went up in a flash. Knocking him to the floor, she smothered the fire with the skirt of her gown. As everyone rushed to escape the encroaching inferno, she grabbed him and they scrambled on all fours to one side of the balcony to avoid being trampled.
Disoriented and confused, Fate looked for Finn. He stood where she’d seen him earlier, a malicious gaze leveled on the empress who was thrashing and clawing within a solid blanket of flames. Her keening scream resounded over all others. As Moria crumpled to the floor, Finn blew two more rune notes. The servile wind strengthened, further fanning the deadly blaze.
Putting her back to the intense heat, Fate curled in on herself, covering her ears and clenching her eyes shut. After what seemed like an eternity of screaming, the last of Moria’s tortured cries and dying rasps fell silent. Lifting her head, Fate glanced up as the frigid wind vanished and the fire receded with unnatural swiftness. King Balor trudged through the stillness, past the dead and wailing wounded, and knelt by the smoking husk of his queen. Sobs of despair and the reek of burned flesh drifted in the air, turning to nausea in Fate’s stomach.
Sithias stumbled to his feet, looking more than a little bewildered and frightened. “Wh-what happened here? One minute I’m lissstening to Finn’sss musssic, and the next, everything’sss burnt to a crisssp.”
Gulping back the bile burning her throat, Fate stood on shaky legs and held onto his trembling arm for support. “I’m sorry, Sithias. I can’t believe we didn’t remember you’d be just as affected by the music as Moria.”
Finn drew up behind her, slipping his arm around her waist. His touch sent a cold shiver through her and she recoiled.
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