Celeste imagined she looked even worse.
Swiping the back of her hand across her forehead, smearing the blood that stained her face, Celeste stumbled a step, trying to keep her legs under her as she made forward movement across the room. The gash along her side throbbed in a dull ache, the cut along her cheek stung as sweat dripped into it and the half a dozen or so wasp stings along her neck and back burned. She forced herself to concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other, on accomplishing her goal before she gave into the need to pass out.
Putting a foot down, her leg gave out and she crashed to her knees on the floor. Pain shot up her thighs and down her spine as her teeth clacked together from the impact and tears welled in her eyes. Breathing heavily, she stayed on her hands and knees, willing the new agony to subside so she could move once more.
The Queen's cackling laughter grated on her ears, "You cannot win, child."
Celeste's eyes fluttered shut for a moment before she raised her eyes and met the Queen's one good eyes. "I'm prepared to die, Azaerlyn, but I'm taking you with me."
The Queen huffed out an incredulous laugh as she nodded toward the dagger in Celeste's hand, staggering forward a step or two herself. "With what? That tarnished dagger? Even if you plunge it into my heart I will not die."
Celeste closed her eyes once more, letting out a shuttering breath, letting all of her pain go until she couldn't feel anything at all; until she was numb. She just had to do this one last thing and then Auberon and Adamanteros would be free forever. A new Queen may eventually come along. Or maybe Adamanteros could restructure the entire system and become the Apocritae king.
Pushing herself to her feet, she swayed as she found her legs once more. With steely determination, she lurched forward inch by inch. The Queen staggered forward as well, holding her dagger out in front of her as if it could stop Celeste. But Celeste was already so battered and broken what was one more knife wound? With grim resolution, she slunk closer to the Queen. Since she was already dead she no longer cared what tomorrow might bring, just so long as the Queen wasn't going to be waking up either.
"My children will heal me," the Queen sneered with conviction, stumbling over her feet but somehow managing to remain upright. Mere feet separated them; mere moments until their hearts stopped beating.
Smiling grimly, Celeste tilted her chin up, sliding the edge of the blade against the laceration on her cheek, coating the metal in her molten blood. "Not this time, Your Majesty."
With the last of her strength, she surged forward and felt the Queen's blade slide into her gut as her blade slipped into the Queen's black heart. Celeste collapsed against Azaerlyn and in the heartbeat before they fell, she rasped into the Queen's ear, "Now we are both dead."
“Why?” the Queen choked out in a harsh, wrecked voice. The former Queen. Celeste was Queen now, at least for a few more minutes.
“Because I could,” Celeste rasped, rolling off the other woman and onto her back. With effort and a pained grunt she managed to pull the Queen's dagger from her side, letting it fall to the floor with a dull thunk. Turning her head to the side, she opened her eyes and saw the hideous face of the once exquisite and perfect Queen and she smiled. Letting her eyelids drift back shut, she huffed out a laugh, wincing as pain shot through her. “I did it to free… to free your sons; to free the Apocritae.”
“My children love me,” the Queen protested haughtily. Even on the verge of death she was still proud.
"Oh, shut up," Celeste muttered, so weak her words were mere puffs of air.
From far away, Celeste heard the secret door slide open. Opening her eyes, she watched as Adam ran into the room, rage and anguish carved into his face. He turned his head towards the Queen – the former Queen – and she smiled, “Adamanteros, my son, I knew you’d come. Pull this cursed blade from chest and heal me; save me, Adamanteros. Kill the girl and save me.”
Celeste twisted her head and saw Adam standing there, staring down at the woman for a long moment. Indecision warred on his handsome face as love and hatred for the wretched woman played out their roles. He took a step towards the dying Queen, falling to his knees by her side as tears welled in his eyes. In that moment, Celeste knew she had lost.
She wanted to tell him, to warn him, that he shouldn't heal the Queen, that it would be his death if he did, but she didn't have the strength. She took a shuddering breath, closing her eyes once more. It was unbearable and she couldn’t watch her beloved Adam choose the former Queen; well, current Queen, since she was about to die. Wow, Queen for all of five minutes; that had to be the shortest reign in the history of any monarchy.
She doubted there were many Queens who came to as painful and bloody end as she had either. Oh, there were a few: Marie Antoinette, Anne Boleyn, but their reigns had lasted much longer. And everything Celeste had done was for naught; the Queen would heal, she would become more powerful and make her sons' lives even more miserable.
Celeste heard the slurping sound of the dagger being pulled from the Queen's chest and she sucked in a pained breath. In a few more heartbeats is was all going to be over; she was going to be killed by the man she loved, the man she betrayed to save his brother. Auberon was going to be lost but not forever, not forever.
A tear leaked from her eye, mixing with the blood and sweat on her skin, and she held her breath, waiting for the final blow to come, praying for it to be over with soon.
“No!” the Queen screeched and Celeste’s eyes shot open to see Adam kneeling in front of her. Fear and love shone in his beautiful black eyes as he looked down at her. With a smile, she let her eyes slide close; he chose her. In the end he chose her. She could die in peace.
“Celeste,” he breathed her name. She felt his hands drift over her body, the split in her side, the gash in her cheek, the cuts on her arm, the dozens of scratches, the welts of stings. She heard him cursing under his breath as she winced in agonizing pain. She wasn’t dead yet.
“You came for me,” she breathed, her voice hoarse and pathetic.
“You foolish, foolish girl,” he chided lightly, carefully gathering her up in his arms. “What were you thinking?”
“That you hated me; not that I blame you,” she admitted honestly as every inch of her skin screamed in misery. She felt the floor fall away as he picked her up in his arms, heard the beat of his heart as he cradled her against his strong chest. Softly, so softly, she wasn’t sure he would hear, she whispered, “I love you, Adamanteros; so much. I love you.”
*****
Her head fell back and her body went limp in his arms, her chest rising and falling with each feeble breath she took. With grim determination, he carried her out of the former Queen’s inner sanctum, ignoring the sniveling mass of flesh as he passed her. He was surprised to see a group of Apocritae standing in the throne room as he passed through the hidden door. Ignoring them, knowing it would be easy enough to deal with them if they decided to attack, he carried Celeste to the chaise, gently laying her down on the soft cushions. He wanted to weep when she flinched, whimpering in her unconsciousness.
A bold Apocritum approached, a man Adam recognized as one of his mother’s most devoted servants. Nervously twisting his hands together, he strained his neck to look at Celeste. “Is she….”
“She’s alive,” Adam said, ready to smash his fist into the man’s face should he make the slightest sign of distress at hearing that news.
“Thank the gods,” he sighed in evident relief.
Adam took a moment to look at him. He saw the whites surrounding his black eyes and growled, “Did you bite her?”
“No, my lord, never!” The man’s eyes widened in terror in the face of Adam’s fury and he took a step backwards, holding his hands up in appeasement. “The first time I tasted her had been when a human slave brought a vial of her blood to the Queen, the old Queen. The second time was when she was chained in this very room and the manacles had scratched her skin. I would never bite the Queen.”
Adam frowned as the other Apocritae inched closer. Carefully, he pulled the torn t-shirt up, exposing the ugly gash that marred Celeste’s perfect side. Bending his head, he was annoyed to hear the Apocritum ask, “And the old Queen?
“Dead,” he answered coldly, bluntly, bending his head and running his tongue along the worst of her wounds. He heard her sharp intake of breath and felt her shudder but he continued to heal her. As bodies bumped him, he became aware of the other Apocritae moving in, licking her wounds, worshipping her. He wasn’t going to lose her.
When the cut across her cheek was healed, the slice along her upper arm was fixed and the gash along her side was closed, he saw her fingers twitch and he sighed in relief. Her eyelids fluttered open and he smiled down at her, the bewildered look in her beautiful, luminous eyes. Splatters of dried blood marred her face but she was the most magnificent thing he had ever laid eyes on. “Hey, there, beautiful.”
She looked around at the Apocritae tending to her wounds before letting her gaze settle on his, “I survived? I won?”
“You survived, my Queen,” he murmured, bending forward and kissing her forehead. “You won, my Queen,” he added, kissing the tip of her nose. His breath shuddered out of him and he closed his eyes, “I thought I lost you, Celeste; I’m so sorry.”
Her eyes searched his as his face hovered just above hers. Reaching up, ignoring the grunt of protest from whatever Apocritum was licking her fingers, she touched his beautiful face. “I’m forgiven?”
“Like I told you, there’s nothing to forgive,” he breathed, meaning it this time as he bent his head and gently kissed her lips. “I love you.”
Her arm snaked around his neck and she pulled herself up into a sitting position, “You don’t know how wonderful it is to hear you say those words to me.”
“Did you ever doubt it?” he asked, lifting his head and gazing down at her with such adoration and love that it hurt to breathe and she shook her head. The corners of his lips tilted upwards, “Good.”
“Holy Christ, can’t a girl go anywhere without the two of you making calf eyes at one another?” Kim asked, striding towards them as if she hadn’t just completely failed in her duty to protect the new Queen. Nodding her head towards Celeste, she grunted, “There are still quite a few cuts that should be taken care of.”
“Where have you been?” Celeste asked, feeling the air caress her back as one of the Apocritae took it upon himself to lift her shirt and heal the wounds inflicted by the over-eager wasps. She tensed as she felt the rasp of several tongues along the sensitive flesh.
“Keeping an eye on you and making sure you didn’t get into too much trouble before your destined appointment with Fate,” Kim replied nonchalantly. “Whatever were you thinking heading into the House of FAB?”
Celeste’s eyes widened in horror, or admiration, it was a toss-up. “How did you know?”
Kim’s smile was slow as it lit up her entire face. “Celeste, I’m your Guardian Angel; I’m with you wherever you go.”
“But I almost bled to death back there,” Celeste protested.
“Come on, we both knew Adam would come through in the end if you won, which you did,” Kim scoffed, dismissing Celeste’s concern with the wave of her hand. “Besides, it was up to you to win or lose, no one else could interfere or your reign would never be recognized; to become the Queen you had to defeat the old Queen; you had to prove your worth.”
Celeste frowned. Kim must have seen the annoyance in her face because she laughed out loud. “Celeste, you’re chosen; your Fate was yours to win or lose, not mine or anyone else's.”
“I had my doubts,” she grumbled, snuggling further into Adam’s embrace, a little bit annoyed about the journey she took to get where she was, about everyone she lost. She looked up at Adam and added to that last thought; and those she almost lost.
Suddenly, she was annoyed with the whole situation. Shooing away the lingering Apocritae, she struggled to her feet, grabbing Adam’s hand as he helped to steady her. He came to a stand next to her, draping his arm around her waist and pulling her into his body. Looking around at her new subjects, all of whom refused to meet her eyes, she asked, “Did everyone here get some?”
Confused, a few raised their heads, but it was Ealasayd who spoke, “My Queen?”
Frustrated, annoyed, tired, she rephrased her question, “Has everyone here had some of my blood?”
At her side Adam chuckled, the sound so wonderful to her soul. As the Apocritae murmured their affirmative answers, she looked up at Adam. “Can we go home, please?”
“The Council is eager to meet you,” he said, scooping her up into his arms.
“I’m sure there’s time to do that later,” she demurred, looping her arms around his neck. “I really want to climb into bed and sleep for a few hours.”
“Just sleep?” he asked, lifting a dark blond eyebrow in a suggestive manner.
Lowering her lashes, she blushed, “Not if you wouldn’t mind.”
“Then I only have one request, my Queen,” he rumbled. When she lifted her eyes and looked at him, he smiled darkly, “Never sleep with anyone other than me ever again; you are mine and mine alone.”
“And you are mine, Adamanteros, my love,” she smiled, pressing her lips to his and teleporting them directly to their bedroom. In Paris where it all began.
Adam looked around the familiar room, surprise darkening his face as he looked at Celeste, “I didn’t know you had enough power to do this.”
She shrugged, yanking the shirt from his pants and pressing damp kisses to his smooth chest. “Apparently I retain the power if I don’t come.”
“That hardly seems fair,” he growled, yanking the shirt over his head and throwing it across the room. “It is my greatest pleasure to watch your face as you find rapture.”
She smiled up at him as her fingers worked on getting him out of his pants. “I have enough power to last a few days; I think we can get away with a few orgasms, maybe one or two.”
Pulling the tattered shirt over her head, tugging the bra from her body, he grabbed her and tossed her up onto the bed. Her laughter stilled as he climbed over her, holding her colorful eyes with his black ones, “I was thinking maybe two or three dozen, at the very least.”
“I see,” she said solemnly, her eyes dancing with laughter. Grabbing the waistband of her ruined pants, she pushed them off her hips. Impatient, Adam grabbed them and tore them from her body, throwing them across the room and knocking over an expensive vase, sending it crashing to the floor.
“I also have to make sure we’ve healed all of your wounds,” he murmured, running his tongue along her inner thigh.
Her back arched, as she breathed heavily, “But I don’t have any wounds on my legs.”
“I’ll just have to lick you all over,” he rasped, flicking his tongue along her clit and hearing her gasp. He grinned, “Just to be on the safe side. I love you.”
Epilogue
A New Awakening
The girl opened her hazel eyes, not knowing who she was or where she was at. Turning her head to the side, she saw the pale pink color of the walls, the sterile environment, the machine that was measuring her heartbeat. A hospital; a private room in a hospital. But why was she in the hospital? She didn’t have any aches or pains; in fact, she felt pretty good; she felt strong. Perhaps she hit her head on something or caught a bug, but she didn’t remember getting hurt or falling ill.
Of course, she didn’t remember anything.
That wasn’t exactly true; she remembered the most fantastic dream she had been having before she woke up. She was fighting this woman, only she wasn’t quite human and the woman didn’t fight fairly. The woman had the strangest eyes: all black, almost like a bug or an alien. In the dream, she remembered being cut, by fingernails and a blade but her body showed no signs of injury.
She remembered feeling weak, almost defeated and then, she had felt a surge of power and everything changed. Her vision became sharper, clearer; she
was able to see so much that she had never noticed before. The colors had been so vivid, but that could have been because it was a dream. Something happened, her power coalesced around her; she could feel the wind as thousands of tiny wings rushed past her, but she didn’t know what they were. Pin pricks battered her back, her arms, but it hardly mattered anymore and then the scene shifted and the other woman was gone.
She remembered black eyes looking down at her from the most exquisite masculine face she had ever seen, black eyes that were normal; human. He had looked at her with such love that it made her heart pound in her chest; she could feel his love for her in her soul. But she was only… she was only eighteen. Frowning, she tried to figure out if that was right. It seemed right, even if she had seemed older in her dream. Of course, that was because it was just a dream. Wasn’t it?
She closed her eyes for a moment, massaging her temples with the tips of her fingers. It didn’t make any sense; she was fairly certain she hadn’t been injured and she wasn't sick and yet she was in a hospital. She was almost positive she had been sliced open and stung, but there were no stitches or bandages. And those two assumptions contradicted each other.
“I see you’ve finally decided to join the land of the living,” a kindly voice said to her right. Turning her head, she saw a…a… nun looking at her chart. The door must have been well-oiled since she never heard it open. “You’ve been asleep for nearly a month, dearest. We were worried you’d never wake up.”
“Where am I?” she asked, her voice surprisingly clear considering she had been asleep for so long. Weren’t there supposed to be tubes in her throat, or something? It seemed as if there should have been a tube in her throat. Nothing made sense.
“St. Michael’s Charity Hospital in England,” the nun answered and the girl finally heard the British accent. “The gentleman who brought you in assured us you would wake up but then he quite disappeared. We haven’t seen him since though it appears he was correct; you have awakened.”
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