Queen Felicity stood, her eyes raking over the figure of her only child, the disappointing daughter. Only Colson could control the land. Only her brother’s son could rule the people in the same manner as herself so she could remain, a counsellor in power at court at Colson’s side. Her future depended on Colson’s victory.
“Let it be. Her words, although softly spoken, were heard throughout the glade. Garion held Helen’s hand tightly as he watched his youngest daughter slowly back away an equal distance from her cousin.
Soft moonlit crossed Willow’s face; her fear apparent to all who watched but there was only one she sought, only one to give her the courage to die proudly. Was he here?
“Prepare to die, my dear cousin. Your useless life will end shortly,” Colson mocked coldly. His arms flapped furiously about his head but ceased when he noticed Willow’s eyes searching their audience. “Missing someone?”
“What have you done with him?” Willow drew up the last vestiges of her courage. She hadn’t asked for this, she wasn’t ready, but her thoughts were of Donovan, her husband. He mattered to her, more than she could explain, but this emotion, this heady sense of overpowering love, was more than she could contain in her slight body. It didn’t matter that she couldn’t remember him; she loved him and she hoped, she prayed he loved her too. She could die content if she knew for certain. Colson laughed, a sound that chilled Willow down to her bare feet. There was death in that sound, as he waved his hands, and she could smell the distinct odour of magic. She knew that smell, recognised the power. It dove into her heart, her head, bringing all sorts of images swirling in her mind. Most of them were of Donovan -his face gazing into hers, his mouth breaking into a warm smile and that smile was lit by the love he held in his heart for her. Only for her.
“He loves me,” she whispered, a confirmation of the feeling building inside her chest, but the pain, the heat of the lightning bolt as it struck her stole all thoughts from her mind. She slammed into the ground, the leafy carpet the only thing to break her fall. She screamed, echoed by her sister’s cry. It was only the soft words in her ear and the strength of their father which prevented Helen from attempting the arena’s barrier.
“Do you still live?” Colson stepped forward, his tone a mocking insult. “Yes, he still loves you even after spending seven years in the darkest pit. Nothing could destroy that love, not the beatings or the food deprivation. The fool endured everything believing you were outside my reach but even now he struggles to save you. That is my revenge; he will watch you die and live out his days alone.”
Willow pulled her aching body to her feet, her head turning at the movement of her cousin’s hand to where Donovan stood outside the perimeter of the glade, beyond the shimmer of the magical protection. Heavy chains looped his body, his arms were tied behind his back as beefy uniformed men ensured his captivity. But he stood tall, with his gaze upon her face. Dark bruises covered his face, one eye was swollen shut; but his pain, his fear was for the danger she faced alone.
“I love you,” he whispered on the breeze. His words touched her skin like a soft caress and a blue-white energy began to grow, her hands warm with the flow of power. This was their energy, the power created by their love that had never died despite their separation. Donovan loved her, what more did she need? She had everything here at her fingertips and the love of the man she loved could only boost that power flow.
“You’re a cruel sadistic bastard,” Willow turned her eyes to the cousin whose smile drooped at the sight of the blue flame curling around her hand. “You don’t frighten me, you never did.”
“I don’t want you to be afraid, I merely want you to die,” Colson raised his hands again, a finger pointing towards Willow but she was quicker. She had more to lose and decided seven years without her husband was long enough.
This time it was Colson flying through the midnight air, a heavy hush invading the astonished audience. No one expected the Lady Willow to fight back; none considered her capable of retaliating. She’d always been such a sensible child, meek and placid, everything her mother wasn’t. It was no wonder the Queen had expressed disappointment in her only child. The loud slap as Colson reconnected with Mother Earth issued through the silence, all eyes on his enraged features. How dare she embarrass him this way? He pulled himself to his unsteady feet, his face red with rage, his left eye twitching erratically.
“You will die now,” Colson’s hand moved through the air, a spiral of power swirling around him as he prepared for Willow’s death.
“Kill him.” Helen’s voice leapt through the air and Willow turned, surprised by her peaceful sister’s vehemence. “You can do it!”
“Fool!” Colson hissed, his hatred a mask altering his bland expression to that of an obsessed monster. “You will die and Donovan will watch his love, his life expire before his eyes. You’re not my match, cousin, dear. You never were.” Colson waved his hand but not at Willow—as one of the huge men at Donovan’s side raised an evil-looking staff to beat at her husband’s defenceless chest and head. He cried out to her, words of power, of love, and she realised she had only moments to save the life she’d always dreamed of with a man like Donovan.
“Enough!” Willow screamed, the very air around her steaming with her power. Taking a deep breath, she glared at the man killing the only man she could ever love. Her life was worthless without him and no one was going to steal him away again. The guard dropped the staff, his hand blistering, melting before his eyes as his agonised screams rent the air. Nothing could stop this now; nothing could prevent the magic eating at his flesh, at his bones, as he liquefied beneath the red uniform before disappearing into the soil itself. The stench of roasting flesh and the discarded scorched clothing was the only sign of the man’s existence. Everyone nearby fled until only Donovan stood, unbeaten but weakened, his proud eyes on his wife’s face.
“Very clever,” Colson whispered, his breath on Willow’s cheek and a knife-laden hand around her throat. “But too late; the kingdom is mine, it was always mine.” Poor Colson hadn’t noticed the blue flame creeping along Willow’s skin, an unnoticed defence, an unbidden protector, and while Willow sought a way to escape, the flame slithered ever closer.
“Willow.” Donovan had been freed by Garion, and sought to enter the glade but was unable to find a way through the magical protection. Colson chuckled cruelly but his glee soon turned to astonished disbelief and then to fear as he stepped back, his hand ablaze with blue fire, his skin crisping beneath its touch.
“Stop it,” he demanded, “you can have the kingdom. I don’t want it,” he cried, like the spoiled boy she’d accused him of being.
“I’m sorry,” Willow backed away. “I don’t know how to.” Nothing could stop the process once underway and Lord Colson, son of Bryon, cousin to Lady Willow and once heir to the Kingdom burst into a bright, blue cleansing flame leaving only one undisputed heir to the coveted Kingdom.
“Willow, my love.” Donovan’s arm closed around her and she lay her head against his chest, tears escaping her eyes as she absorbed the death of her cousin. Didn’t that make her a murderer? Only the warmth of her husband’s arm made it any better.
“Well, I didn’t expect that,” Felicity’s cold voice floated through the air, “but I suppose that makes you my heir. I will vacate the throne within the week and retire to my country estate…if you don’t mind.”
“I don’t want the throne. I didn’t want any of this,” Willow tried to explain but Donovan’s cool voice interrupted.
“You will vacate the throne today and remain in exile until Queen Willow determines otherwise. Be mindful, she could have ordered your death but her kindness will allow you to live on in comfort.”
Felicity, once queen, bowed her head knowing it was the new Queen’s right to dispose of the woman who’d hated her all her life and she realised she was getting a better deal than she would have given to Willow.
“I don’t want to be queen,” Willow tugged on her husband
’s arm. “I don’t know the first thing about ruling a country.”
“But I do,” Donovan bent his head low, his lips touching those of his wife, his queen.
Chapter Ten
His arms were hard like steel as he pulled the reluctant woman into them. Her lips whispered a denial but her body craved his touch, her hands reached out to touch his skin.
“I want you,” his lips touched the delicate skin at her throat, his tongue tracing a line of love.
“I can’t, I won’t,” she cried but they both knew it was a lie. He smiled, cold and dark but there was love between them, love and desire.
“Hello?” Willow looked up at the sound of the bell over the door. She’d forgotten to lock up again and this book was too good to be denied. “Can I help you?”
“I think you can,” his voice was deep, filled with dark emotion. “I have been without my woman all day and now I crave her attention. What have I told you about locking that door?”
Willow stepped forward, the book forgotten on the counter, her arms reaching out to the only man she’d ever loved.
“How was the Kingdom today?” she whispered, her hands on his neck bringing his head down.
“The same as ever but it can never be as important as my wife. I have missed you,” his lips were warm, demanding, as he stole her breath. In his hand he held a single red rose, a reminder of that day they found each other, a year ago. “Happy Valentine’s Day, my wife.”
Each and every night she waited for him to return from the land he ruled in her stead and each night he returned to her arms, to her love as she lived her life in this human land. One day she would return to the Kingdom, but for now, she was happy to welcome her husband and lover home every night.
Donovan looked down into the bright blue eyes of his wife, a broad smile crossing his lips as he swept her into strong arms.
“Time to go home, my Queen, my love.”
Willow laughed softly, her smile answering him. Her eyes danced over the romance novel she’d discarded. She had her own hero, tall, dark and very handsome and she smiled a little more.
“Home it is, my Lord Husband,” her words full of promise. Who needed such novels when she lived her very own romance?
The night saw a tall dark-headed man carrying a beautiful woman in his arms until they were visible no more and anyone seeing them would believe them to be no more than a dream. A gentle laugh echoed in the dark, an enchantment of love drifting on the breeze.
The End
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