by Lola Taylor
The three judges, which included a high-ranking witch, werewolf, and vampire, all looked at each other.
“Your blood test results revealed traces of Green Magic in your blood,” the pale-faced vampire said, thumbing through the pages of lab work again.
“Apparently so,” Norman said, raising his brows and shaking his head. “I was as surprised to learn that as you were.”
“So you’re saying you have no idea how you came into possession of Green Magic?”
“Not at all, Your Honors,” Norman purred.
“And you do not deny you had Green Magic.”
“Of course not.” He shrugged. “I trust the lab work to be completely accurate. After all, you sent it to one of the finest labs in the country.”
More murmuring between the judges. The witch glanced down at the glowing pink-and-purple ball on her podium. Due to their gifts at lie-detecting spells, there was always a witch present at every trial in the country. Some humans had secretly begun employing them too, though illegally. The paperwork to practice such magic in a human court was horrendous, not to mention all the spells the human had to undergo to ensure he or she would never speak of the Underworld to anyone.
The judges, at a loss, reluctantly let Norman return to his seat beside his lawyer.
So far, the lie-detecting spell hadn’t gone off, meaning everyone who’d been questioned so far had been telling the truth.
Which worried Gage even more.
He sat beside Megan, who tapped her golden pen against her folder. Her eyes were narrowed on Norman and her magenta-colored lips were pursed.
“Does the prosecution have any further questions?” the witch asked, looking at Megan.
Megan sat down her pen and stood. “Yes, actually,” she said in a dark, authoritative voice. She put on her hot pink, wire-rimmed glasses and smiled. “I call Norman Black back to the stand.”
Norman’s lawyer rolled his eyes, as if to say this was foolish, but Norman politely stood and sidled over to the stand. He lounged against the seat and crossed his long legs, smiling at Megan as she approached.
“Mr. Black,” she said, “are you aware magic infection is extremely rare?”
“Of course,” he said congenially, “but it does happen.”
“And it just so happened to you.”
Norman’s lawyer shot out of his seat. “Objection! The prosecution is being antagonistic.”
“Sustained,” the witch said, with a warning glare to Megan. “Tone it down, counselor. And make your point.”
“Yes,” Norman drawled. “Where exactly are you going with this?”
“There’s a particular type of antibody certain paranormal species produce that wards off magical infections. Werewolves are among these creatures,” Megan went on. “It’s estimated only 1 percent of the werewolf population carries this antibody.”
“We’ve already had blood work done, counselor,” Norman said with a yawn. “They didn’t find this antibody.”
“You’re right. They didn’t. Which means one of two things: Either you really don’t have this antibody, or you paid someone to write a false report and alter the test results.”
“Are you insinuating I sabotaged my own test?” Norman growled, his eyes glinting gold.
“I’m saying that for someone who was one of the final two candidates for High King, I wouldn’t put anything past you. You may have started out with innocent enough intentions when you first decided to run for the crown, but I’d wager the closer you got to that much power, the more desperate you became.”
“I did not tamper with my tests!” Norman snapped. “This is outrageous!”
“Then you won’t mind if I bring in one of my vampire associates to retest you?”
Norman stalled. “I…” His eyes darted to his lawyer’s, who minutely shook his head. Norman looked at Megan and raised his chin a bit. “You have no right to touch me.”
“I have the right to ask questions when things seem fishy,” she said with just as much steel. She rested her elbows on the stand and leaned forward as she lowered her voice. “Come on, Mr. Black. It’s just one little prick. All we need is a drop. What are you so afraid of?”
“I’m not afraid of anything.”
The lie-detecting orb flared to life, casting a pink-and-purple glow about the room every time it pulsed.
The judges’ lips were weighed down by severe frowns. The witch snapped her fingers, and guards started forward toward the stand.
“What are you doing?” Norman demanded, his face going white as they seized him and forced his head back so his mouth faced the ceiling. “What are you doing!”
His lawyer stood. “Your Honors, please reconsider the truth serum. What if the orb is wrong?”
“That spell is never wrong,” said the witch. “And you should know our laws by now, counselor. It is illegal for us to administer the truth serum without the person first activating the lie-detecting spell. Once it’s triggered, he or she must consume the serum.”
Norman thrashed as Alara walked forward with the serum, her eyes alight with dark satisfaction. Norman’s eyes widened as she came into view, and she uncorked the delicate purple bottle.
“Bottoms up,” she said softly.
The guards forced his mouth open, and she dumped the contents of the bottle down his throat.
He gagged, trying to spit it up, but the magic within the serum took hold fast. Norman quickly went still as a spooky white glow filled his eyes, blotting out his irises.
“Ask your questions again, counselor,” the vampire instructed Megan.
Her expression never changed. Gage had never seen her wear anything other than her business face.
“Did you tamper with your blood test results?” Megan asked.
“No, I didn’t,” Norman said in a monotone voice. His tone was raspy, like the answers were literally being ripped from him. “I didn’t have to. I infected myself with Green Magic.”
Gasps went up around the courtroom.
“You infected yourself?” Megan asked, crossing her arms.
“Yes. I bought a vial of Green Magic from the Black Market and had a friend slip it in my food or drink so I wouldn’t know exactly how or when I’d been infected.”
Understanding dawned in Megan’s eyes. “So you could truthfully say you didn’t know how or when you’d been infected, thus avoiding setting off the lie-detecting spell. Very clever, Mr. Black.” She shook her head in disbelief. “Why did you want Green Magic?”
“Because it was the cheapest.”
Megan snorted.
“And so I would have the same abilities as a Green Warlock for a few days.”
“Why?”
“So I could make it look like Gage Johnson was using Green Magic, and thus, eliminate him from the race for High King.”
Gage smiled grimly. Gotcha, you sneaky son of a bitch.
Megan glanced at Danica thoughtfully, who sat in the row behind Gage. “Mr. Black,” Megan said, “did you by any chance have anything to do with the attempted shooting of Danica Johnson at the mall? And at the castle a few days ago?”
“Yes. I hired both shooters.”
Danica’s lips pressed into a thin line.
“Why?” Megan pressed.
“To be assured Gage would be eliminated in case the Council, who already favored him, decided to still let him run. An unmated wolf cannot be an Alpha… or a High King.”
“There’s also an eye-witness account of you conducting a late-night meeting with Malachite.”
“Yes.”
“Tell us about that.”
“I needed him.”
Megan’s jaw ticked when he didn’t go on. “Why, Mr. Black?”
“Because I knew Malachite was infatuated with Danica, and I needed a reason to make him want to be near her all the time. I knew he would want to protect the woman who resembled his dead wife, thus pitting him against Gage.”
“So Malachite was a distraction, I take it?”
An unexpected pang of pity over Malachite’s death went through Gage. He had been played, just as Gage had. All so Norman could get closer to the crown.
Norman was exactly the kind of politician Gage despised. He felt no regret in ruining the lives of people below him if it meant getting what he wanted.
“How did you get rid of the tattoos?” Megan said.
“I didn’t get rid of them,” Norman answered. “A witch I blackmailed cast a spell that hid the tattoos from sight and muted the bond between Danica and Gage.”
“Is it permanent?”
“No. The spell will wear off on the next full moon.”
“So they’re still mated?”
“Yes.”
Danica bit back a squeal and reached forward. Gage took her hand and squeezed, his smile as wide as hers.
Megan looked around. “Any further questions?” When no one nodded, Megan started to walk away and then paused. “Oh, I did have one more. Do you have any ties to the witch mafia or know anyone who does?”
“No.”
Megan’s shoulders fell. It was smart, digging for a lead while a criminal was under the influence of the truth serum. Too bad Norman didn’t have any connections.
“No further questions,” Megan said, walking back to Gage and rejoining him at their table.
Gage leaned into her. “You’re too smart for your own good.”
She shrugged, as if her stroke of genius had been nothing. “My gut still said he was hiding something. No one had phrased the questions in a way that would make him lie and allow the lie-detecting spell to pick up on it.”
Gage reached over and squeezed her hand with gratitude. “Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it,” she said with a wink and a foxy smile.
The witch snapped her fingers, and the glow faded from Norman’s eyes. He shook his head and blinked several times, squinting at his surroundings. When his face landed on Alara, who stood beside him, he frowned. “What are you smirking for?”
“You were right, Mr. Black,” Alara said, giving him a dark smile. “Magic never lies.” She looked at the judges, who stood. Everyone else in the room rose.
“Norman Black of the Nightshade Pack, you are hereby stripped of your rank as Alpha and are sentenced to one hundred years in Vulcan,” said the witch.
Gage trembled internally at hearing that prison’s name. It was the one place in the Underworld where only the vilest of criminals were sent.
“You are also disqualified from running for High King,” the witch went on. The gavel slammed down, the clank of wood against wood ringing throughout the room.
Everyone on Gage’s side stood and cheered. Gage hugged Danica, laughing. He felt like the weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders.
Another gavel slammed down, interrupting their impromptu celebration.
“We have just gotten in the results for High King,” Alara announced. A hush fell over the room as everyone waited in anticipation.
Gage mostly felt confused. Everyone had been eliminated from the running. Since the fight with Malachite, and his subsequent disqualification, he hadn’t been told he’d been allowed back into the competition.
Alara’s eyes sparkled, and she could barely contain her smile. “It is both my honor and pleasure to announce that the Council has ruled that Gage Johnson will be the next High King.”
The floor nearly dropped out from underneath Gage.
It couldn’t be true. This had to be a cosmic joke.
But as the crowd gathered around him and other royals congratulated him, he knew this was real.
High King. He was actually going to be High King.
“So they ultimately chose Gage as the High King because they respected his ideals and his honor,” Danica gushed to the three women preparing her for the impending coronation. “Once they learned what he did to save the Moonstruck Pack from Malachite, they knew he valued other people’s well-being above his own. That’s how they decided he’d make the best king.”
“Wow,” one said with raised eyebrows. “He sounds like an honorable man.”
“Not to mention he’s so much hotter than King Victor was,” the teenager, Marie, breathed with a dreamy look on her face.
Danica giggled as the head maid swatted at Marie, frowning. Marie blushed and went back to work at adjusting the poufy skirts around Danica.
The dress was beautiful. The skirts were eggshell-colored silk, which bunched in pearl clusters. The long bell sleeves were white lace dotted with tiny diamonds that sparkled every time she moved, and the corset was patterned in gold and silver whorls and filigree. True to popular belief, the corset was uncomfortable and stiff, but Danica forgave those vices because of how awesome it made her boobs look.
A diamond choker encircled her neck, and two large diamond studs shone from her ears. Her hair had been curled into dozens of ringlets and left down to trail over her shoulders and back. A few tiny tendrils curled near her face, framing it. Her makeup was light; she wore only a thin layer of powder, mascara, and soft pink rouge that matched her lipstick. It was the kind of natural look she could never seem to pull off on her own.
Marie, while being a bit of a blabbermouth, sure knew her way around a makeup kit.
The whole situation seemed like a dream as they finished preparing her. It still hadn’t fully hit Danica what was about to happen. The girls made light chatter as they wrapped up, and then they guided her to the cathedral where the coronation was to be held.
Dozens of rose vases sitting on white pedestals lined the hallway, alternating with golden candelabra. It was beautiful and romantic, though Danica thought it was a bit of an odd decoration choice for a coronation. Then again, what the hell did she know about these things? She’d never been crowned a queen before.
Holy shit, she was about to be crowned High Queen, in a freaking castle!
She almost started hyperventilating again.
“Just breathe,” the eldest maid said. They were all wearing matching dresses of red taffeta that were feminine and tasteful.
They stopped before the massive oak doors that marked the entrance to the cathedral. Much like the rest of the castle, the doors had been carved with moons, wolves, and the outline of thousands of trees and roses. It made it look more ancient and powerful.
Two guards outfitted in red dress uniforms with golden brocade bowed to her at the doors. “Ready, Your Highness?”
A nervous thrill went through Danica. She was only beginning to get used to her packmates occasionally calling her “Your Highness” back in Moonstruck. Now the phrase took on a whole new meaning.
With a nod, she gulped and sucked in a tight breath as they pulled the doors open.
The room was huge. Rows of cherry wood pews stretched to the stage along either side of a long, red velvet carpet. Rose petals had been scattered along the walkway. More roses hung from the rafters, their blossom-studded vines forming graceful arcs throughout the rounded ceiling. Long, wooden beams stretched along the ceiling, and windows of stained glass lined the walls. More golden candelabra lit with glimmering white candles dotted the room.
The sheer beauty of it took Danica’s breath away.
A large golden pipe organ stood against the back wall, its tiered pipes singing a familiar melody.
Danica blinked. Why on earth was it playing “Here Comes the Bride?”
Then it hit her.
Her eyes darted about the room, taking in the decorations again.
This wasn’t just a coronation—it was a wedding.
Danica let out a sob that was partially a laugh.
“Don’t start crying!” the head maid hissed, dabbing at Danica’s cheeks with a handkerchief. “You’ll ruin your makeup before you even say ‘I do!’”
“I just can’t believe this,” Danica blubbered through her tears. It was perfect, down to the last candlestick.
A dream wedding from a fairy tale, in her very own castle.
And at the end of
the walkway stood her prince, no, her king, waiting for her with a smile on his face.
Gage looked stunning in a black uniform with golden brocade along the sleeves and a red satin sash that crossed his chest. A long cloak of red velvet outlined in white fur hung from his shoulders. He really did look like a prince out of a storybook.
One of her maids handed her a bouquet of red roses and urged her to walk. She slowly made her way down the aisle, fighting back the tears threatening to spill down her cheeks and streak her mascara.
Her heart swelled with love and joy as she met Gage at the stage and took his arm.
He beamed at her. “Is it everything you dreamed it would be?”
“I can’t believe you did this for me,” she said softly. “It’s amazing. More than amazing. It’s perfect.”
Adoration and love shone in his eyes. “How’s about we walk toward that happily-ever-after now?”
She grinned at him. “After you, my king.”
And together, they ascended the steps leading up to the priest.
The ceremony was beautiful. Though the sheer number of people present had initially freaked Danica out, she found once the silver crown had been placed upon her head, she didn’t fear them anymore. That crown made her feel powerful, more in control, like she could take on the world without regret.
Dancing in her king’s—and new husband’s—arms afterward had been even dreamier.
High up in the castle, in their gigantic private suite, Danica and Gage toasted one another. Danica still couldn’t get over the shock of her new position in this world. Everything had happened so quickly she knew she’d be feeling whiplash for at least a week, if not longer.
She and Gage were dressed in nothing but bathrobes. A bottle of open champagne chilled in an ice bucket next to their bed. They toasted one another and sipped. “I wish they could’ve figured out a way to restore our tattoos,” Danica said with a bit of sadness. “It’s the only thing that would have made this night more perfect.”
“Yeah,” Gage sighed. “It’s too bad they couldn’t find the original witch who’d done it. It’s as if she never existed, which supports my whole alias theory. Oh, well. There’s nothing to be done for it. At least we’ll get them back in a month’s time.”