The Queen’s advisor stood motionless, hand poised on the elegant handles leading to her private chambers. Even though he was new to the prestigious position, he hesitated at the sound of her voice. He didn’t want to report the latest news.
Images skated across his mind and he shuddered. The last fool who had delivered less than pleasing news had been tortured without mercy. No one could guarantee the mood they would find her in—her fickle reputation was notorious throughout the Court. Some made excuses for her extreme behavior, saying it was her age that made her somewhat unstable. Others said she found sick delight in making her subjects squirm under her scrutiny. There was one truth they all agreed on—everyone strove in finding ways to survive her temper.
The advisor offered a hopeful prayer she was in good spirits, in the very least the bored and dismissive attitude she’d recently displayed. He released a nervous breath, however, knowing that what he was about to share could unleash her fiery temper. He didn’t want to find himself joining his predecessor.
His hand trembled slightly as he continued to grip the entrance handle, pained over being this shaken. Naturally stronger in disposition, he wasn’t a fool—he knew the potential danger he was stepping into.
“Unless you wish to visit my dungeons, Orville, I would come through those doors now. I won’t be kept waiting.”
She knew it was him—she always did. He marveled how a sound so beautiful to the ears could be equally as threatening, striking fear in his heart. He swung the doors open after bracing himself and stepped into the dimly lit room.
He noticed the Queen wasn’t in her usual spot at the bay windows, sitting instead on the ornate chaise by the brick hearth.
Part of her face was hidden in shadow; the other half glowing from the flickering light produced by the fire she had blazing. Orville found himself momentarily pausing as her undeniable beauty struck him—the same reaction he had each time he was in her presence.
Their people were naturally a graceful, beautiful, race. Human minstrels had dedicated sonnets about them for countless ages—their tireless infatuation immortalized by the written word. With just one glance, even the most uncreative amongst them began waxing poetic. As he approached his Ruler, Orville could see why. She was breathtaking.
She had recently started having her hair woven into intricate designs, feathering in the delicate flowers found only in Faery. The blonde, almost white, strands shimmered when light reflected off them, creating a glowing aura that some said portrayed innocence and vulnerability. Those were the fools who were easily ensnared by her—trapped by flights of fancy.
Her face was one of perfection. Large, doe-like eyes stood out—framed with the longest lashes he had ever seen. Her pale blue eyes shimmered against her ivory skin that was soft enough to touch.
Without a doubt, she gave the image of everything virtuous and pure, but he knew how deceptive those looks could be. There were many who had underestimated her, believing the Queen could be easily manipulated. Those buffoons were either still residing in the depths of her dungeons, or their heads were cruelly shoved on spikes—gruesomely displayed high on the palace walls.
No, Orville had promptly learned it was crucial, if not vital, to always remember the viciousness that lay deep within the Queen’s heart, and never forget.
Standing at the entrance, he’d hoped the room had been lighter so he could judge from her expression how she’d receive him. Without it, he needed to rely on her body language. Despite the many layers of soft taffeta and brocade she was wearing, he could see her foot furiously tapping, and instantly wished to be elsewhere.
It was just as he feared. She was upset, and he’d be lucky to leave with his head intact. With no other choice, he threw himself into a deep, respectful bow and held it until she gave him permission to straighten.
“Your Majesty, excuse the interruption but it is important that I speak with you.” He risked a brief peek through his cascading hair and saw her looking at him with vague annoyance. He dreaded the message he was instructed to deliver, but it was unavoidable. With the way things were unfolding, if he waited even a moment longer, it could spell certain disaster.
“I have very little patience this evening, Orville. Speak quickly, and then leave by the way you came.” Her tone held an undeniable coldness.
He waited to be released from his bow, but she remained silent. With no other option, Orville swallowed his pride and continued staring at the carpet.
“News has reached the Court about a disturbance, Your Highness. Someone has been secretly moving amongst the nobility to amass a group of supporters. Court gossip speculates plans are being made to cross over into the Human realm and if you don’t step in and crush this attempt, your subjects will rebel and overthrow you.” Orville closed his eyes, silently waiting as the Queen digested what he’d shared.
“And what do you think, Orville? What do you speculate?” There was a veiled threat loosely camouflaged in her soft whisper.
He needed to tread carefully, his life hanging fragilely in the balance. “I think . . .” He paused to fortify his nerves. “I think it would be wise to investigate. I already have men who can go into the city and learn all they can. I just wait on your approval.”
He had barely finished talking before he realized she’d moved, quietly crossing the distance between them. A wave of cold fear spiked inside his chest as she bent over and murmured low in his ear.
“I don’t care what you think. I don’t care what the Court thinks. I am the Queen and my word is law. Why should I be concerned about what one person does? Tell me, Orville, why should I care who crosses over?”
She wrapped her hand abruptly around the back of his neck, forcing him into a deeper bow. His nose threatened to touch his knees, and he worried about falling head first onto the floor. Orville clenched his fists, struggling to hold his tongue and keep his balance.
There was no point reasoning with her and even if he tried, it would result in his death. Clearly she wasn’t interested and believed the threat didn’t affect her—the walls of her palace giving her a false sense of security. “Annoy me with this gossip again and I will show you my temper and cruelty. If this reaches my ears once more, I will hold you personally responsible.” She tightened her grip, causing him to flinch. “Run if you choose, there’s nowhere you can hide in Faery to escape my displeasure . . . my fury. Do you understand?” The Queen swept her leg forward and kicked his feet from underneath him, sending him sprawling across the floor.
Orville’s spine stiffened with stifled outrage. He had never been treated this way—never been forced to suffer such indignity. He was of noble birth and had anyone else treated him this way, he would’ve killed them where they stood—no questions asked. It was through arrogant pride that he’d found himself assigned to the Queen’s service—a decision he now regretted.
Adrenaline pumped through his system and caused the blood in his head to pound loudly in his ears. Fae vanity demanded he defend himself, yet Orville continued to lie on the floor. He removed any sign of defiance from his eyes and body language, knowing even the slightest display would end his life.
“Yes, I think you understand,” the Queen purred, standing over him. “Now get out of my sight.” As she turned away, Orville moved quickly and was through the door a moment later.
He didn’t need to be told twice. Without another look, he fled.
The private chambers of the High Priestess, Human realm
“Something’s stirring and we’re worried, Ruth. Even the animals are scared, and poor Sally has retreated into her room, refusing to come out. We’ve been searching through the annals hoping for another explanation for the restlessness. All the signs point to one thing—serious trouble.”
The voice on the phone sounded tired and Ruth could only imagine the long hours that had been spent looking for answers before they’d notified her. As High Priestess, she knew this conversation hadn’t been an easy one for Michelle. She’d also sense
d the unease churning over the past few days and had decided to send out inquiries. It had proven unnecessary, however, as phone calls began pouring in by mid-morning—this being one of many she’d already taken.
Ruth rubbed her face, trying to stay awake as she gathered her thoughts. She hadn’t slept in days. Each time she closed her eyes frightening images filled her mind. It was the one thing she disliked about the office she held.
Her nightmares were crowded with scenes of mass destruction. She saw war, death, and lifeless bodies piled high—blood drenching every surface, terrified screams, loud and deafening. Dragged from these tormenting visions, she’d sat up from a dead sleep, her heart beating furiously as she found herself twisted up in bed sheets. She dripped with chilled sweat, her mind frantically trying to make sense of the madness. But it was elusive and Ruth was soon left with nothing but a few snippets and a gut wrenching fear. She slept again with the hope of learning more, but each time she’d awakened with nothing. The nightmares came when they chose to, and she hated being this blind. It didn’t bode well.
As a seer, Ruth’s station allowed her insight through dreams and visions. Whatever was occurring around the world had found a way to block her ability and it shook her to the core. This kind of disturbance could mean only one thing.
“People are scared. They need answers, and I haven’t anything to calm their fears. I worry if we don’t tell them something they will go out looking themselves. If it’s as bad as I feel it is, they’ll only get themselves hurt, even killed,” Michelle added.
“Have you gone to the sacred grove there?” Ruth asked. She held her breath for the response she knew was coming, her stomach clenched tightly with worry.
The groves were the cornerstone of their faith, places of infinite power and all they held dear. What looked like ordinary clusters of trees and greenery were in fact magical hot spots—places where the veil between realms was thin. Visitors from other worlds used these portals, and it was the Order’s sacred duty to stand sentinel—guarding mankind from invasion.
“Yes.” The anxiety in Michelle’s voice was unmistakable. “I made the trip this morning and what I felt there broke my heart. It seems like something is oozing out from the portal, a darkness. I’ve never felt anything like it before, and I pray I never will again. It doesn’t look good. It doesn’t look good at all.”
There was a pause in the conversation, both waiting for the other to say it. Ruth knew exactly what Michelle had felt—the same disturbing feeling had come over her when she’d visited the grove this morning. The powerful sensation, which usually coursed through her body, giving her clarity in her duties, had left her nauseous and weak. Something was altering the energy balance, distorting it, and Michelle’s report simply confirmed it.
“They’re coming, aren’t they?” The voice on the other end spoke softly.
A lump rose in Ruth’s throat as if to stop her from answering the question. She desperately wanted to deny the truth, declare the occurrences as mere fluctuations that meant nothing. She choked on the words and a cold wave of dread sank deep into her heart.
“Yes.” Ruth released her own breath of resignation at the sound of Michelle’s gasp. “There is only one reason for this change in the portals, and it isn’t in our favor. The last time they came, it took everything the Order had to fight against them.”
“Is there anything else we can do?” Ruth heard the plea in Michelle’s voice—the need for a positive answer.
“All I’ve read and been taught has shown us being victorious but only after a long and bloody battle. I have the records handed down from High Priestess to High Priestess I can review.” The authority rang through her voice as she spoke with the power of her office. “Take aside those you can trust and give them the assignment to dig deeper into the archives. Tell them to talk with no one but you, and keep me informed. We have tried and tested methods; let’s look for any forgotten advantage.”
“Yes, my Lady,” Michelle formally replied, her tone lined with newly found determination. “I know who to ask, and hopefully by the end of today we’ll have learned something helpful.”
As the conversation came to a close, a feeling crashed over Ruth and she knew it couldn’t be ignored. “As gently as you can, have everyone talk with their families to warn them. If things worsen, events will move quickly, and there may not be much time later. It’s important they don’t panic, so do what you can to ease their fears. It’s only as a precaution, but when the Spirit whispers . . . it’s necessary.”
“I’ll see to it straight away,” Michelle responded. She made plans to check in later and hung up.
Ruth stood briefly with the receiver in her hand, hearing the beeping dial tone. It was official—the order given—Michelle the last of the sisters to call. They were all aware now, starting preparations, and the only thing left to do was pray they’d be ready for the threat approaching.
She sighed and braced herself for what she needed to do next. Ruth lifted the receiver back to her ear and began dialing a new number. This call was being made with great reluctance because she knew she was about to changes someone’s world—a person she loved and cherished above all else.
Please let me say the right words, she silently chanted, waiting for the other end to pick up. And please, forgive me for the promise I’m about to break.
Chapter One
“Argh!”
It was unavoidable—no one could bump and grind with such enthusiasm and not end up doing themselves some serious damage. It could happen on a crowded, strobe pulsating, dance floor. Or for those blessed with the clumsy gene, it could occur in a death trap of a shower. I was part of the latter group.
I had actually been succeeding in washing away the day’s stress. My muscles were slowly releasing their built up tension as jets of steaming hot water pounded away at them. I wanted to kiss whoever designed the multi-headed showerhead I’d recently bought, because after the drama-filled week I’d experienced, it had seemed an impossible feat.
That was before a near fatal twist almost sent me sprawling on the shower’s floor, drowning in sudsy water.
“Smart move, Bri. Great way to start the weekend.” Sarcasm coated my words as I scolded myself for not thinking things through. “Sorry, Quinn, I’m cancelling our hot date tonight. Why you ask? Well, I did this dance step, you see, and just about knocked myself out. Am I okay? Uh yeah, just a little embarrassed. You want to come kiss it better?” I paused long enough from my mini rant to smile at the possibilities.
Being kissed by Quinn was my definition of ultimate bliss. It was well worth any teasing he’d give me, especially when it meant I’d spend the rest of the night in bed getting doctored by him. The thought elicited an excited shiver.
I was getting tired of hurting myself, whether it was small or emergency room worthy. I tipped my head back under the steady stream letting the water pour down my face and through my suds-filled hair, momentarily offering me relief. It wasn’t long, however, before my fingers scrambled and I scrubbed my eyes.
“Argh!” I screamed again.
The attempt was futile. The soap burned like it was aflame, causing me to scrunch my eyes tighter in the hope of protecting them. I scooped up handfuls of water to soothe the searing pain and groaned as it slowly began to ebb.
I pulled the slick curtain aside and began feeling around for the towel I knew was there. My fingers felt the soft, fluffy material and I used one hand to grip onto the shower railing as I leaned forward.
It should have been an easy task—completely manageable, but with my eyes still tightly closed, I couldn’t see how far forward I was leaning. Losing my balance, I slipped and grasped onto the wet plastic curtain.
It was a painful mistake. I lost my grip and tripped as my feet lifted over the ledge to step out of the shower. In a move that imitated the stunt that had started the whole mess, I thudded onto the cold floor—hard. The elusive towel slipped from the rack above and landed squarely on my head.
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br /> "Just great,” I complained, flinching from the pain. “Can’t wait to see what I do next.” I sat for a moment, softly groaning while I tested my body for which part hurt the most. My inspection was interrupted by the sound of my front door slamming closed.
I slumped in defeat. I knew who’d entered my apartment and the reaction I’d receive if he found me like this. My clumsiness was a constant source of amusement for him, a real sore point that irked me.
Taking a deep breath, I blew the strand of wet hair from my eyes, and tried hard not to look pitiful. I could hear Quinn walking through the rooms and imagined him draping his jacket over the couch before seeking me out. It wouldn’t be long until he discovered my awkward position.
“Bri, where are you? I can see your stuff in the kitchen so I’m assuming you’re in here somewhere . . . hopefully naked.” I heard him mutter the last part softly, finishing the sentence with a chuckle.
Loud footsteps paused outside the bedroom door, and I could only imagine his disappointed look at finding my bed empty. I wasn’t too worried because sometime tonight, he’d get me there, hopefully kissing away the still present pain.
“Baby, if I yell out Marco, can you give me a Polo in return?” He was inside the bedroom now, and I made one last-ditch effort to lift myself up from the floor. I was halfway there, bent at the waist, when I heard a low whistle of appreciation.
“Let me guess . . . Clumsiness 101 strikes again.” Quinn stood at the doorway wearing a cheeky grin, his eyebrows raised in amusement. My predicament was temporarily forgotten at the sight—the man looked sexy as hell.
With dark hair that always fell across his forehead, he flicked the annoying strands to the side, revealing his heart melting brown eyes. I loved looking into them, finding something new to adore each time, and I would tease him about how long his eyelashes were. He had a perfectly shaped face—chiseled jawline and high cheekbones. He was pure masculinity and when he smiled at me with his full lips, I wanted to drop everything I was doing so I could touch him. He was dangerous to my heart, he was beautiful, and he was all mine.
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