Shifter Queen (Dragons & Phoenixes Book 3)

by Miranda Martin

  I saw plenty of men and women in pretty court clothing, the ornate embroidery and glittering strands woven into their outfits letting me know that they were not prepared at all for this attack. Or likely for anything else real. These were the people who had their noses so far up Emberich's ass that they couldn't even see what was going on around them or read the mood of the populace as they continued to live their life of brown-nosing luxury.

  Of course, maybe I was just projecting and they didn't want to be here anymore than Sven had. Maybe it was just survival. Survival or not, none of them tried to stop me as I ran through the palace, simply giving me a wide berth when they saw me. Obviously not people who were tethered to any particular cause other than their own. As long as they didn't bother me, I didn't waste time on them.

  I ran through the kitchen, empty now with pots still cooking on the stoves. The people working here had just run away in a panic. Through the residential wing, ducking in to look at rooms and finding only more people not prepared for this attack.

  Where was that little weasel?

  I stopped in the middle of a hall, pausing to think as I caught my breath. If I was Emberich and I sincerely thought that nobody could best me even in an attack on my own stronghold, where would I be waiting?

  It was possible he had gone out to fight with his people, I supposed. But with someone who was so attached to his own head and his own life, I doubted he would risk himself out there when he didn't have to.

  Oh.

  I should have checked there first. Doing a quick calculation in my head, I turned to my left and ran down another hall. This place was like a maze. I hoped I was going in the right direction.

  Where did Emberich most likely feel the trappings were appropriate to his station?

  Where I was brought when I first came here to unknowingly turn Omari over to that psychopath of a sperm donor?

  The throne room.

  I burst out into the front of the palace where fighting was already happening, guards changing into their phoenix forms and launching themselves into the air, others fighting ground forces with swords, some in archer stances shooting up into the air.

  I looked up to see the seething mass of dragons and phoenixes battling each other to the death, their wings and feathers combining and confusing the eye.

  I wouldn't want to shoot into that. I'd be too worried I'd be just as likely to hit a friend as to hit a foe. But I was sure Emberich gave orders to shoot anyway. As long as his enemies died, I doubted he cared about any kind of collateral damage.

  One of the archers saw me and turned his bow to me instead of up into the sky, his face twisted with rage. Not a fan.

  I threw my knife at him and it hit him in the shoulder, incapacitating him from doing any kind of accurate bow work. He cried out and dropped his bow, clutching at his shoulder. But I didn't bother to stay and finish him off.

  I needed to get to my goal, the reason why all this was happening at all. I avoided the rest of the fighting and made my way directly to the doors leading inside. It was surprisingly easy.

  Too easy.

  When I walked into the throne room, I was met with rows of guards lining either side of the room, at the ready with their swords and their bows. A good portion of the guards that were most likely assigned to the palace, if not all of them. He'd pulled them in from their stations just to protect him, leaving the palace staff and the rest of his people here to fend for themselves.

  Classy.

  At the very end, past all the guards, sitting in a deceptively nonchalant pose with his ankle crossed over the opposite knee...sat Emberich.

  The reason for all of this.

  For the attempts on my life.

  For the destruction of my apartment.

  For all the talks I had to have with Omari when I had to head into danger.

  For the deaths of all those dragons and phoenixes.

  I wanted to wring his neck.

  All I had to do was get through fifty bows and swords aimed in my direction.

  I stepped inside.

  No guts, no glory.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  I faced forward as I took a step into the room, not taking my eyes off Emberich even as four of his guards stepped directly in front of me, two arrows and two swords pointed at my torso and head. A little overkill, but they didn't have anyone else to focus on at the moment, so I'd give them a pass.

  As I stared at Emberich, I realized he looked like a dad. A rich dad maybe, but a dad. Too bad the physical attributes were the only resemblance he bore to any kind of father figure. He was tall, with salt and pepper hair and a full beard trimmed down neatly, a white stripe running directly down the center of it. His face was even and handsome if you could get past the coldness of his eyes.

  Currently, he was wearing a gold-embroidered tunic and loose pants combination again just like the ones I had seen him in last time, though these had more glittery strands woven in this time rather than the dull gold I remembered. His crown was still set lightly upon his head, the ruby ring still on his middle finger. The only real difference I could see this time was that instead of the impractical gold slippers he'd been wearing last time, his feet sported a pair of well-formed and no doubt expensive boots in a light tan color.

  My gaze rose back up from those boots. Prepared to run were we?

  "Ready to surrender?" I asked calmly.

  One of the guards took a threatening step closer to me, just itching to close the deal I was sure.

  "Let her through," Emberich said laconically. "I want to see what my whore bitch of a daughter has to say to me."

  Kid gloves were off. He wasn't even trying to pretend he didn't hate me. I honestly preferred it to the veiled threat he'd been before.

  I saw a couple of the guards flinch at the language he used before they went back to their stoic faces. Interesting. It made me wonder exactly how many of these guards were actually on Emberich's side and how many were just pretending until they didn't have to anymore.

  I supposed it didn't really matter so long as most of them were on his side. They'd kill me just as easily. And even if they didn't like Emberich, I was sure many of them didn't like me any better. Not with my so-called tainted bloodline.

  I walked forward into what I sure was a trap. But it wasn't as if they were going to let me just walk away at this point even if I wanted to.

  So I stepped forward onto the dark, iridescent stone floor, the sunlight streaming in to hit me from the glass panels set into the ceiling above.

  As I walked, shadows passed over me. They were distinctly dragon shaped, which I thought was appropriate for the occasion.

  I saw Emberich's mouth tighten at that. Didn't like the fact that his territory had been invaded, did he?

  The thick columns that lined either side had guards both in front and back of them. Even with this many people, the long room didn't feel crowded because the ceilings were so high. It could actually hold a lot more people than this and still feel spacious.

  Two of the guards stepped forward and crossed their swords in front of me, stopping me before I got any closer to the monstrosity of a throne that Emberich was sitting on. Why he thought a giant, gold, overly ornate chair with red embroidery was the way to go was beyond me. But Emberich's taste was the least of my worries.

  When I came to a halt, Emberich just waved the guards back. They stepped away slowly.

  I met Emberich's eyes briefly before looking around at the guards.

  "It isn't going to matter how many guards you have," I pointed out quietly before meeting his eyes again. "You've already lost the throne. We're just here to accelerate the process."

  "Do you really believe you're going to step out of here alive?" Emberich asked lightly.

  But I could see the rage in his eyes as he glared at me. He wasn't as unaffected as he wanted me to believe. Good.

  I shrugged. "I know that you wouldn't have been able to hold on to power for much longer even if it wasn't for us
. Your people are not loyal to you. Of course, you've given them no reason to be. And plenty to not be."

  "Oh, and you think you know about ruling?" Emberich snapped, leaning forward in his chair, his calm demeanor breaking and his real self coming through. "You know nothing about what it takes to hold on to power, to keep so many people united under one umbrella! You think this can be done with a gentle hand and a soft voice? Making moves only to ensure that everybody likes me?" he scoffed. "It takes a firm hand to hold this throne. And whether or not all of my people like me, they need me even if they're too stupid to realize it. I've kept us together even as the dragons have become more and more fractured." He banged his hand down on the arm of his chair hard enough that it echoed through the room. "I've kept us strong!" he snarled.

  I shook my head. This angry, bully of a man deserved what he was going to get. I knew this was his end, even if it didn't come by my hand.

  "The dragons aren't as fractured as you may think," I replied after a beat. "All you have to do is look outside to see that."

  His nostrils flared as he took another deep breath. And took a different approach.

  "You don't know what you're doing. You think that overthrowing me and throwing the phoenix race into a state of anarchy is only going to hurt us and benefit you? And anarchy is exactly what you're going to cause—nobody could keep everyone together like I have!" He thumped his chest with his fist. "Nobody!"

  I shook my head.

  "Anything will be better than you," I said quietly.

  He got to his feet abruptly and stepped down from the dais, stopping only a few feet away from me. I slid my other knives out from their holsters. He glanced at them and smiled without humor.

  "You think your knives will save you now?" he asked, chuckling without humor. "I made you." His face turned serious. "But I'm more than ready to remedy that mistake."

  The guards on either side of us stepped closer. But Emberich raised a staying hand once again.

  "It will be my hand that finishes this abomination," he said in a low voice. "Stay back."

  That might have hurt my feelings. If I gave a shit. Emberich stepped closer, no weapons in his hands.

  Confused, I took a step back, slashing at the hand that reached out towards me. He didn't even flinch as I cut a deep line across his palm, simply chuckling again as he grabbed hold of my wrist.

  I was so startled by the move that I didn't twist out of it right away.

  The ring on his finger flared and my attention went over to it.

  I smelled burning flesh before I felt it.

  I let out a short, startled scream even as I stabbed at him with my other hand and twisted my wrist out of his grip.

  I pulled my knife back out as I stumbled back, but again he simply chuckled.

  His upper arm was bleeding from the stab and his hand was dripping blood from the slice, but his face looked as calm as ever. Had he completely lost touch with reality?

  "I am the Phoenix King, little girl," he said, flexing his hand in front of me and then opening it, making a show of wiping away the blood.

  He held his palm up so I could see it.

  His hand was healed.

  How was that possible?

  When I looked down at my wrist, his handprint was literally branded into the skin there. How the hell had he done that? And how was I supposed to kill him or incapacitate him if he could just heal himself?

  He took a lazy step towards me and I took one back, watching him alertly.

  I couldn't let him touch me again. I would have to change to heal any burns and there was no way he was going to give me time to do that.

  Okay, I had to stay out of his reach and also hurt him at the same time. I only had two knives left. If I threw them, and he just healed the wounds, I'd have no weapons and he'd have no damage to show for it. And I didn't want to touch him with my bare hands, not after seeing what he could do with skin-to-skin contact.

  He kept walking towards me, his hands outstretched. And I kept dodging his touch, slicing at him. And he kept healing the wounds.

  We kept the back and forth going, the only sounds in the room our breathing and the scuffing of our shoes as we moved in tandem.

  The guards continued to watch silently.

  He moved again and I thought I could dodge him, but he was quicker this time, darting in faster than I could move away.

  He clamped his hand down on the same wrist he grabbed before, the burning excruciating on my already-scorched skin.

  Screaming, I slashed at his neck, going in deeper than I'd been able to before.

  With a growl, he let go of me and stepped back, slapping his hand over his neck.

  "Gutter trash!" he growled.

  My wrist and forearm were blackened now, and I couldn't move my fingers and palm very well. Gritting my teeth, I forced myself to hold on to my knife. I'd use my hand until it refused to cooperate anymore, damn it. I was not going down without a fight.

  Emberich took his hand away from his neck, but the wound was still bleeding sluggishly. Not gushing like it had been before, but definitely not completely healed like his previous wounds.

  The sight of it gave me a renewed burst of energy. Maybe he wasn't as indestructible as he made himself out to be.

  His previously light colored tunic and pants were already splashed with a lot of blood from the wounds he'd healed. And now the neckline of his shirt was saturated with the blood from his gushing neck wound. Maybe the blood loss was finally getting to him.

  He was mortal, just like the rest of us, even if he'd decided he was more, better. And I think that cut reminded him as well. The look in his eyes past his rage was undeniable.

  It was the sickening look of fear, real fear. He was finally afraid. Afraid for his own life.

  Even as he opened his mouth, I already knew that he was going to sic his guards on me. He would never take any actual risk with his own life.

  "Guards—" he yelled.

  Right before the same guards who'd stopped me from reaching the throne stepped forward and swung their swords in glittering arcs, their movements completely in sync as if they'd practiced this same maneuver a hundred times.

  Emberich's head rolled to the floor, his face still twisted in his rage.

  I stared down at it as his body slowly toppled over to follow.

  The blood on the floor spread out in a thick, viscous pool, the deep red of it almost blending into the floor as the guards watched on.

  I stepped back towards the door leading out as the guards turned on each other.

  "The king is dead," one of the guards who had beheaded Emberich stated in a clear voice. "The dragons and our own people have almost overtaken the city. Are you so loyal to your dead king that you will sacrifice your life to avenge his? The fight is already over."

  As he said that, I realized that he was right. The sounds of fighting had greatly diminished outside.

  What was going on out there?

  "Emberich was not perfect, I shall grant you that. But you would choose this mutt over a king so undeniably strong?" one of the opposing guards said, his face angry and incredulous, his buzz cut showing off his high cheekbones and slightly slanted eyes.

  "Yes," the guard said, glancing over at me with dark, somber eyes. "I choose her over a king so selfish he would hide in his own throne room while his people were dying for him." He shook his head. "At least she was here fighting for her cause with her own blood. I would rather follow a leader who is willing to put her safety at risk rather than just her people's lives."

  As he said that, I felt the burning over various parts of my body. Emberich had caught me many times, some of which I obviously hadn't even registered because I'd been so focused. And because the burn on my arm was so excruciatingly painful it took focus away from the more minor ones.

  The guards were silent after that last comment, obviously not knowing how to respond to that fact. I didn't make the mistake of thinking they agreed with the first one's sentimen
t about me. But it was difficult to defend a leader who hid when there was real danger. Especially not a warrior race like the phoenixes.

  As they had a standoff, I inched back. Was I going to have to make a run for it?

  I looked over at the door leading out.

  There was no way I would be able to make to the door without someone catching me if they wanted to. And I was already on my last legs. I didn't even know if I could run that whole way.

  And I'd lose all my cool points if I tried, only to collapse part of the way there.

  Even as I thought that, the doors burst open and light flooded in. I squinted, trying to see past the light to the broad-shouldered silhouette walking into the room.

  My eyes adjusted as Ashur stepped closer, others coming in behind him. I blinked as he came into view.

  His face was harsh as he took in the tableau of the guards, scattered out of formation, Emberich's headless body lying on the floor, the iron-rich scent of blood thick in the air.

  His eyes then went over to me, his own face splattered with blood, along with his naked body. There were burns and wounds that I could see, but he was standing straight and tall, his movements sure and not broadcasting any of the pain I was sure he was feeling. That was not a man I'd want to mess with. He emanated true strength in a way Emberich could have only dreamed of.

  The people coming in behind Ashur immediately made their way over to the guards, most of them dressed and armed with swords, knives, and bows. Our numbers easily overwhelmed the guards. They realized that as well, most of them laying down their arms without even being asked.

  But a couple of them didn't. They were unceremoniously cut down for their efforts. I looked away, not wanting to see any more gore if I didn't have to. I already knew Emberich's beheading would be haunting my dreams for quite some time.

  Ashur stopped in front of me, his eyes scanning my body, pausing on my blackened forearm.

  "I can't leave you alone for a second, can I?" he asked in a deceptively light tone, his eyes holding a whole mixture of emotions. Relief, anger, worry.

  I smiled slightly.

  "I swear it wasn't my fault."