The Fall Of The King (Lightness Saga Book 3)

by Stacey Marie Brown

  “Yeah, too bad.” I growled, crushing his throat with magic hands. “Our family has always been so close.” My brother and I actually were. Rare for demons. Killing him was the hardest thing I ever had to do. My father had never liked his twin, but he couldn’t destroy him.

  Daggers of pain shot across my head as I hurled more magic at Stavros, my lungs grappling for more air.

  Fuck. I was getting tired.

  Stavros coughed a strained mechanical laugh, his face relaxing as though he were at a spa. “Keep fighting me, son. It feels amazing.”

  Fighting him only enhanced his magic and weakened mine. For the first time I could remember, I didn’t know what to do.

  Clangs of swords and shouts from across the field finally broke in, shooting my gaze to the other fight going on around us.

  Unfathomable terror filled my chest and almost dropped me to my knees.

  Fionna.

  My eyes raked the open space, trying to find her, anxiety curling up in my throat. It was like being shocked awake, emotion firing up my veins.

  If anything happened to her…

  My gaze finally landed on the petite Druid, my mouth parting.

  She stood with her arms open, air fuzzy around her as if she were in a bubble. Margo and a handful of strighoul surrounded her. But they weren’t fighting her. They were protecting her, clashing against the other strighoul attacking.

  Black magic.

  I was highly aware she could do this, but seeing her true power—the ability to shred fae of their will and use them as puppets—and more than ten of them? I had vastly underestimated her. But the closer I looked, the more I spotted the strain on her face, the blood pooling from her nose and leaking from her eyes. Death danced on the edges of the barrier, ready to jump.

  She was killing herself.

  “Fionna!” I bellowed, ripping my magic from Stavros, reeling it back like a fishing rod. Stumbling with exhaustion over the rough terrain, I scrambled to the Druid.

  Halfway there, magic shot into my spine like a bullet. I sailed forward and landed a few feet from her, feeling every bump and jostle in my tired bones. My body wanted to curl up and sleep, give in to the lethargy, and replenish. But my ego did not understand the depletion. Not this fast, nor this easy. My mind would not give up.

  I clawed the dirt, picking myself up. Fionna still stared forward, oblivious to my presence, her forehead frowning with determination. Blood covered her face and clothes, the stream growing heavier with each passing moment.

  Her soldiers continued to fight for her, their faces void of emotion, similar to robots.

  “Fionna, stop!” I yelled.

  She didn’t react at all, capturing one more strighoul in her web.

  Any more and it would be too much. The energy it took to bend just one mind to your will was immense. Multiply it by twelve or fifteen. The resistance they flung back at you, and the focus you must maintain to keep each in play.

  “Fionna. Stop. Now!” I tried to wiggle my magic into her sphere to stop her, but it rebounded against her magic shield. I stumbled back. At the sound of a deep laugh, I spun around.

  “Not even your witch listens to you.” Stavros strolled up toward me. “What kind of King are you when a lowly Druid doesn’t even respect you?”

  “Fear is not the same as respect,” I snarled, wiping blood from my lip. “And what kind of man or King needs to have people tremble before him to make himself feel powerful? That’s not a real King or man.”

  “And look at what your lack of leadership has brought the world. Look around, nephew. The world is at war because of your leadership. Humans are killing fae with no repercussions. Even fae have lost their way. People need laws, to know their place.” He lifted his hands, his skin thinning to almost nothing. “Including you.”

  Invisible hands wrapped around my throat. I could not breathe. My feet swung as I went up into the air, my hands going to my throat. How many times had I used this same magic on others?

  Fight. Fight back, I shouted at myself, but with every struggle, energy dripped out of me, siphoning to Stavros as though we shared an IV.

  Spots dotted my vision, my muscles falling limp as more compression crushed my throat. My lids lowered; my vision was now black. I had never imagined dying. I was always ready for it, but I never gave any thought to the particulars.

  Now as my life slowly drained, it wasn’t Devlin or Aisling I thought of—most likely I would be seeing them soon enough. Ember was my first thought. I wished I had told her I loved her. I wanted to see my daughter one last time. And lastly, I thought of her. The Druid who had bounded into my life, literally knocked me on my ass the first time I met her, and completely flipped my world upside down.

  “Noooo!” a voice screamed in the far distance, barely carrying into what was left of my conscious mind.

  I turned away from it, floating in silence and calm, letting it take me where it wanted. Peace. Is this what it felt like? I felt neither asleep nor awake. Just there without worries or concerns. It felt amazing.

  Then, as though someone had flipped a switch, I was flung from the serenity, spinning out of the dark cocoon into the blinding light. I hit the ground, air flooding my chest with a choking gasp. My lids popped open. I inhaled as much oxygen as my lungs could take, trying to stop the sky from spinning over me.

  Slowly, I rolled onto my knees, coughing and wheezing. My gaze shot around, but it took a moment for understanding to connect to what I saw.

  No one attacked me, and no sounds of a conflict filled my ears.

  At last I spotted one form standing in the field, her back to me, the wind whipping her dark ponytail around.

  “Fionna?” My voice sounded weak as I stood. She didn’t respond. I took a few steps, noticing lumps lying across the land. Bodies.

  “What the...?” Strighoul, Margo, and even my uncle lay unconscious at her feet. I could sense they were all still alive but knocked out cold. This level of power was astonishing. Unprecedented. She had done it to save my life. “Fionna, what did you do?”

  Her head jerked, twisting to me. “Lars?” she whimpered.

  Terror stuck in my throat. Her eyes, nose, and ears were no longer bleeding red. Black ooze streamed out of them in surges. Death was the payment for the use of dark magic.

  “I can’t see.” Her legs wobbled under her weight.

  “Fionna!” I sprinted, reaching her as her body collapsed into my arms, her head falling back. “Do not die on me, Druid.” I could hear the panic in my voice as I placed my fingers at the pulse on her neck. It was light but still tapped against my hand. For now. She didn’t have long. I had to heal her. Soon. And I was aware it would take a lot more from me than normal to fight against the black magic. It would make us both vulnerable and weak for a while.

  “Stay with me.” I lifted her up, her limp frame dangling in my arms.

  I peered down at my uncle. He should have been my concern, my only interest, using the last of my magic to kill him. But he wasn’t. All I could think of was the tiny woman in my arms. She was going to die.

  I rolled her into my chest, stepping over my uncle, and carried her away.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Fionna

  Warmth flamed against my skin. The sound of crackling fire encouraged my lashes open. Shadows and lights flickered on the rock above my head similar to shadow puppets. I blinked again and turned my head toward the heat. My sight took in Lars crouched in front of a fire, the muscles along his bare back clenching as he poked at the blaze. His shirt hung on a rope, drying over the open pit.

  We were back in the cave. Kevin’s home.

  My memories of the last few hours hurtled back into my mind, recalling the magic that surged through my bones. When I saw Stavros killing Lars, my brain shut off and my magic took over. I had used black magic a lot in my life and learned where my limits were and how many fae I could control at one time. Yet I had gone way past my boundaries. And I only grew hungrier for more in th
at moment. I couldn’t stop even though I knew it could kill me.

  And when I saw Lars dying, his life dwindling out, filling his uncle, I lost it. Power I’d never felt before came blasting out of me. It took over my brain and insides. My body barely contained the energy.

  I should be dead. My hand went to my stomach. Foreign magic filled my insides, wrapping around my muscles like a blanket, numbing me of the pain I knew I should be feeling.

  Black magic didn’t come without a huge cost. The price should have been my life. But it wasn’t. And I knew it had to do with the man by the fire.

  Pushing myself up to sit, the bundles of grass and blankets under me lulled me to lie back down. I watched Lars, taking him in.

  He saved my life. And you saved his…

  “Hey.” My voice cracked, blending into the sputtering blaze.

  Green eyes flashed at me, then back to the fire. Muscles along his back tightened, responding to my presence, but he didn’t speak. A dense silence strung between us in which I stared at the designs the flames created over the cave.

  “You...” I cleared my throat. “Saved my life?” It came out more of a question than I wanted.

  He huffed, standing to his full height. “You saved mine first. Just repaying the debt.”

  “Ah.” I nodded, disappointment pouring down on me like a waterfall. “A debt. That’s all it was.”

  He shifted around, his eyes blazing, but his shoulders slumped and he stumbled with fatigue. “What do you think it would be, Ms. Cathbad?”

  I ignored his response, observing the dark circles under his eyes, the exhaustion haunting his brow.

  “Lars…” I got up, moving to him, my hand reaching out for his face. He turned his head but didn’t jerk away when my thumb brushed over the deep purple ringing his eyes, my hand cupping his face. My lips pinched together, trying to hold back the shock at seeing the King look depleted and withdrawn.

  “Did I do this to you? By healing me?”

  “No.” He swallowed, not looking at me.

  “He’s taking your powers.” The pad of my thumb swept over his cheek. “And you still used your energy to save me. Why?”

  His jaw rolled, his gaze finding mine, burning me as if I had stepped into the fire.

  “Look who’s up.” A gravelly voice came from behind me. “Finally.”

  I swung around, dropping away from Lars.

  Kevin strutted up, his lips twisted in a snarl, his arm dressed with the sock, Gerry. “Sleep in my bed, burn my wood. What? You moving in with me now?”

  “You are a daft idiot, Kevin.” Gerry shook his head. “It was just getting good.”

  “What the fuck you talking about?” Kevin glanced with confusion between Gerry and us.

  Gerry sighed heavily, rolling his head back. “You really are ‘special’ as your mum suggested. How have I put up with you for so many years?”

  “Don’t be talkin’ to me that way, you ungrateful wanker,” Kevin growled at his hand.

  “Don’t remind me of that.” Gerry shivered.

  “It happened once.” Kevin flung his other hand against his leg.

  Gerry slowly turned to Kevin, looking as though he was rolling his lips together.

  “Okay. Twice... maybe three times, but you didn’t complain the last time.”

  “How can I complain when my mouth is blocked from talking?” Gerry swiveled to us. “Not much though, his dink is as big as his brain.”

  “Wow.” I scratched my temple, trying to block the images from appearing in my head.

  “Glad you’re well, cailin.” Gerry nodded toward me. “I was so worried when he brought you in. You looked dead. But now look!”

  Kevin scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Great. Eating my food, drinking my swill.”

  “He’s the King. Show some respect!” Gerry shot over at the leprechaun.

  “Well, get out…soon, Your Highness,” Kevin grumbled, moving back down the tunnel.

  “He really means well, Majesty.” Gerry’s reply echoed down the passageway, disappearing into the dark.

  “No. I don’t. Don’t tell me what I feel!”

  “You wonder why no one likes you. Because you’re a grumpy ole’ git. A bollix!”

  “And you’re such a lickarse.”

  Their voices argued back and forth until they trailed off into nothing.

  “Is it strange I’m growing fond of Gerry?” Lars muttered, forcing a small chuckle from me. “The leprechaun is a bastard.”

  My head bounced with humor. It was easy to start thinking of them as two entities.

  “He’s right about one thing.” Lars reached around for his shirt. “We need to go. My uncle’s still out there, which means he could find us.”

  “Lars, look at you. You are barely standing.” I motioned down him. “You will be no good if we run into them again.”

  “Fionn—”

  “Don’t Fionna me.” I shook my head, pointing to the bed on the ground. “It’s your turn to rest.”

  His mouth opened to object.

  “I’m not taking no for an answer.” I tipped up one eyebrow. “Do not challenge me right now, Lars. I will win.”

  He let out a small scoff. “I am beginning to see that.”

  “Then we might actually get along.” A smile curled my lips.

  He stood close, staring down at me, his gaze fierce on my eyes, heat sparking in his.

  My breath caught, sensing every molecule of him move toward me, as though he were actually touching me. Every muscle tightened, not letting me move. Except my chest. It fluttered and banged with a mix of fear and desire.

  His energy glided over me, consuming me whole. But I sensed the cracks in it through which his magic leaked. The longer Stavros lived, the faster Lars would die.

  “Let me try and heal you,” I whispered, my fingers ghosting the skin of his torso, following the tattoo on his side.

  “No. What ails me won’t be fixed by magic,” he replied huskily. “You need to heal yourself. I’ve only mended you a little, then numbed it. It will start wearing off soon.”

  “I knocked Stavros out.” I swallowed, staring at his ink. “Why didn’t you kill him when you had the chance?”

  Lars’s silence drew my chin up. He watched me intently, his head tilted, as though he were thinking, “Don’t you know why?”

  Fireworks exploded in my chest, emotion almost knocking me over. He had chosen me.

  His chest and hips pressed into me, his arms staying at his sides. I nipped my bottom lip, choking back the rush of need I had for him. My fingers glided up his arms, thankful no clothing impeded my curious hands.

  He let out a breath and shut his lids when I skated over the tattoo on his heart.

  “What does this mean?”

  “Warrior, leader, protector…and lover.” He spoke low and husky. “One of the twin flames represent my brother, and the other flame is for my lost love. Her power was fire”

  “Oh.” I tried to swallow back the sudden lump in my throat.

  “They are there to not let me forget.”

  “Forget what?” I whispered.

  “What I have right in front of me.” He leaned in closer, his breath slinking down my neck. My heart slammed into my chest as his head dipped even closer to my lips.

  And closer. But he didn’t stop.

  “Shite! Lars!” I wrapped my arms around his waist, trying to hold him up. His legs bent as consciousness seeped from him. I grunted, holding on tight as I dragged him as best I could to fall onto the grass bed. I lowered down on my knees next to him. Not even hesitating, a healing chant pelted from my mouth.

  Snap.

  Like a band breaking, Lars’s magic morphine on me surrendered and sharp pain stabbed through me.

  The spell died in my mouth, and I bent over, taking in a shaky breath. A tickle at my nose towed my fingers above my lip. Black liquid stained my fingers.

  Shite.

  I needed to fully heal myself, but something stopped me
from greedily taking energy for myself. My gaze landed on Lars’s profile, his scruff reflecting in the firelight. Gray hair now sprinkled his sideburns. I reached out, needing to make sure my eyes weren’t playing tricks on me.

  Gray hair.

  He was aging.

  Fae aged so slowly it appeared almost nonexistent. He was far from those years.

  This was because of Stavros.

  Fury burned up my spine. He will not take Lars from me.

  I pushed my palm into his chest, then into my own. I had never tried this, to attempt a dual healing. I had no idea if it would even help him, but I had to try. We both needed to be restored. It was not one or the other.

  We were in this together.

  ~~

  When I woke up again, the fire was down to embers, the chill in the cave creeping over me. I shivered and nuzzled closer to the warm body next to me. The arm wrapped around me tugged me in, forcing me to peer up at Lars, his eyes glowing in the dusky glow.

  “Do you feel better?” I asked, enjoying the nearness of him far too much.

  “I do,” he responded. “But you shouldn’t have wasted your energy on me.”

  “I didn’t waste it.”

  “It was…if it can help you more. It’s only a temporary fix on me.” His fingers reached out, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “I am dying, Fionna. No Druid magic can fight against the laws of the Dark.”

  I propped on my arms, looking down on him. “Watch me.”

  “You will never pull a stunt as you did earlier again.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I believe I was clear.”

  I cocked my head. “And I believe I was clear when I said no one tells me what to do. You do not get to order me about, Lars. I am my own person. Not your underling.”

  “You don’t want to be under me?”

  I sniffed in a gallon of air, his implication spinning my head like a carnival ride. Was he messing with me? He wasn’t really one for being playful. My lids narrowed on him.

  “That a no?” A glint flicked in his eyes. Wow. The arsehole was taking the piss.