The Void is still in my grasp and I feel the sparkling pain of it sliding through my veins and beneath my skin. It’s a living, breathing thing that pulses within me. I look everywhere in the purple wilds surrounding me. All I see are dashing shadows, glowing red eyes, and the snowflakes, still hailing from the blizzard. My pounding heart hammers against my ribcage like a drum, so hard it’s almost painful. My body doesn’t stop shaking and the hair on my skin is standing on end. The Fae senses at my core are screaming and roiling with confusion and fear at the disorienting snow.
A wicked laugh cackles into the air and my heart stops its heavy thrum. My eyes flick to my right and I see the woman I hate the most. My mother has arrived.
I scramble away and begin running down the mountain. My feet can’t move fast enough as tears cascade down my cheeks. I stumble into a barrel-roll tumbling through the snow. I break through branches of trees, thorn bushes shattering beneath my body. The small needles are impaled into my flesh through the fur outfit and leather armor.
My descent stops and I get my feet under me as I wipe the tears from my face, my hand catching on thorns in my cheeks and blood stains the fur on my gauntlets. I look up at Evaflora, my enemy, the villain to my hero story, and worst of all, my mother. She smiles down at me. When I fell down the mountain, my powers slipped from my grasp, so I quickly illuminate the dark, a violet torch in the night, and take in the full image of my mother. Her dress is made of dark leather, scaled like a dragon’s skin. Darkness mixes with her obsidian hair, unbound, as it flicks through the wind like tentacles. I know it isn’t my mother because tendrils of night don’t seep from her body on the passing wind. The boy, my mother, they’re the Umbra. I had speculated earlier, but I am sure now.
Green flames erupt to life at near the creature’s fist and the colors of its fire and my Void battle in the darkness that ripples like ocean waves around us. Before the Umbra can kill me, I toss a ball of roiling purple at it and it dodges the blow with ease and vanishes into the dark above.
“No, no, no,” I mutter to myself. The blizzard doesn’t hide my voice or the snapping branches of the beast sprinting towards me out of the darkness. I can’t see the details of what it is, but I notice the obsidian silhouette in the shadows approaching from my left. I break into a sprint heading further down the mountain dodging tree after tree, dancing between the trunks that seem to lean in my way. A guttural howl, familiar to my ears, resounds from behind me, the source of the pounding steps quick on my heels. I cast an orb of purple smoke-like flames at a tree and orange fire immediately blasts in the face of the beast behind me. It hisses at the flames and I don’t waste time looking back.
I no longer hear an attacker in pursuit of me, but I don’t stop running. The slanted ground soon becomes level and I’m trudging through the heavy snow, panting, every breath is burning my lungs from the core. I tried to find Jax and instead found the damn Umbra.
I try to make sense of my surroundings, but everything looks the same. Pine trees shoot up towards the sky and snow, thick and heavy, clumps around my calves. I am lost in the forest of monsters, nightmares, horrors. The Forsaken will likely eat me up before I can even find the Winter Kingdom. I want to start walking towards the birth place of Jax, but I think better of it. I just ran down the mountain from the Umbra and whatever beasts are also on Archaic Mountain. I don’t want to walk straight back to them, not yet anyway.
On that thought, I start walking away from the mountain. I’d much rather arrive at Equadoria than be stuck in Elkwood. Fear flows through my veins, pumping quickly thanks to my fast beating heart. The rush of adrenaline when fighting the Umbra made me forget the bitter cold which is now creeping back through my damp clothing. The pelts and furs lining my leather-plaited armor are likely ruined. All of the supplies I would need are in the damn cave, lost from me, as I am lost from Jax, as Jeremiah is taken from us.
When my legs get too tired and my body aches from pushing forward, I finally collapse in the snow. The Void is locked away inside me and no longer painfully pulsating beneath my skin. I stare up at the sky and almost laugh at the pink now shattering the palette of night. The moon is still an adamant silver disk in the sky, but the sun will come out soon. The blizzard has either stopped or isn’t reaching the base of the mountain. The pines still tower above me and I take my breaths in slow, greedy, gulps. One. Two. Three.
A snarl shakes the bones inside me from the trees nearby. A sob shatters through my weak, tired, aching body and I rise on shaking legs. The sky now becoming light allows more visibility in the forest of nightmares and I see the Dreag’s grey, sandpaper skin crouched close to the snow next to a tree. I unstring my bow and fire an arrow at the beast. It misses and the Forsaken leaps from the brush. Three more arrows take flight in seconds from my quiver and I dodge the descent of the falling corpse. Its black blood leaks into the snow making the body sink further into the blanket of white mounds. I stare down at the Dreag and poke it with my fur boot; it doesn’t twitch, satisfying my unease. I take a deep breath in the following silence that is music to my ears.
“Why don’t you love me?” his familiar voice coos from behind. I scream in joy and spin to face my best friend, my lover, and not my mate. His words suddenly slap me in the face and I look at him for any signs of cuts or damage. Black blood covers him from head to toe and a small cut is stark on his cheek bone.
“I do love you,” I whisper, my voice carrying throughout the forest clearing. I don’t know why he is bringing this to me right now, but I’m just happy he’s safe. The small, slowly falling flurries waltz around us. Relief fills my pores, but so does regret. “I’m sorry.” I step towards him and a tear slides from his eye, trailing through the blood on his face before collapsing into the snow. I approach him on staggering feet and another voice, also familiar to my ears, echoes from behind me.
“Don’t trust him,” a second Jax steps from behind a tree and my relief vanishes instantly. I glance between the two of them and I hate to admit that there are no defining characteristics separating one from the other. In my eyes, they are both Jax. But I know one is not. I nock an arrow and draw the bow on instinct. “He’s an Umbra.” I am quite aware of that. But I almost cry as my shaking arms barely keep the arrow on the string.
The first Jax to appear lifts his hands at the sight of my arrow trained on him. “Ariadae, you know it’s me, I’m the real Jax.” How do I choose? Who do I choose? This is my worst nightmare. “You don’t think we’re mates and now you don’t believe I’m real. What more could this cursed world bring my way?”
The second Jax jumps in. “Ariadae! Kill him! You know it’s me! I’m Jax.” I feel like I’m flipping a coin. My bow groans and my muscles continue to shake from holding the string. My grip is slowly slipping and I bite my lip as I try to come up with a decision.
“I-I,” I can’t keep the shaking from my voice. “I don’t know.” What if I kill the wrong one? What if the second Jax is making me choose because he knows if I kill the real one than he can take me to Evaflora? Or is the Umbra not part of her army because they follow the Akuji? I’ll think on that later, but right now I try to find a way to survive my worst fear, my worst nightmare. My aim is starting to sway and tremble, more than before.
“Kill him,” the first Jax seethes. “He is going to murder you.”
“Ariadae,” the second Jax begs and I hold back a frustrated sob. “It’s me. I’m Jax.”
Right as the arrow slips from my grasp and the string snaps, I hear the echo of the bowstring from off the mountain. Another arrow, not my own, from my right, whistles through Jax one and Jax two. The two males explode in a cloud of dark smoke like the apparition of the boy. An indecipherable sound erupts from my throat and I look to the source of the arrow. The most beautiful male I have ever seen stands next to a tall pine and I gather in his features. Long, shoulder length, dirty blond waves frame his angular face, covered in dark stubble and his eyes seem to pulse with light. They are a sea-green blue and
my heart melts. With the recent shifting of the Umbra I draw my bow at the hunter in defense.
“Jax made it to the Winter Kingdom last night,” the deep male’s voice glides along my bones like smooth silk and I seem to shudder, in a good way. I shake the euphoric thoughts from my brain and remind myself this beautiful faerie is a stranger. Maybe even an Umbra. “Half of the Frost Guard has been trenching their way through the Archaic Mountain Range for most of the night. I am assuming you are, Ariadae Vox.”
“Yes,” I say, sounding like the queen I am. “And who are you?”
“Kane Drenth Archaeminza, Jax’s brother.”
“Heir to the Winter Kingdom throne,” I finish for him and he smirks with a lopsided grin that makes him too handsome for his own good. Oh how this male could get me in trouble.
“Let’s get you back to safety.”
Part Two
Lord of Frost
Chapter Fourteen
~Fayla~
The Vampyre kings and queen are staying for a month at the castle. I have a month to be with him, Lunan, my mate. I don’t understand how it can be. Even though I’m half Vampyre and half Fae I can still have a mate. What makes the whole scenario even stranger is that mates are, so beyond rare, they practically don’t exist. Until now, I’ve never met mated Fae or even heard of someone having a mate, but I know what it is, I knew what that feeling between us was.
After the unplanned arrival of the Vampyre royalty last night, Acacius sensed something was wrong and sent me to my bed chambers. I didn’t get to see our guests be paraded through the castle on a grand tour, but the picture of his beautiful, but marred face is burnt into my brain like an image stained to a wooden plaque. When I saw Lunan I felt something deep in my gut, heard my body tell me what he was. Before the voice whispered in my skull I felt it, my heart beat, for the first time in months since my transformation into a Vampyre.
I pull my legs tighter to my body as the water around me in the tub ripples; it has been cold for quite some time. I ignore the chill that now touches my warm body. The feeling of my heart beating and blood pumping is so foreign to me that I almost laugh at the tingling sensation beneath my skin. I was alive for twenty years before I became a Vampyre and in less than six months, practically minutes on my immortal lifetime, I’ve forgotten the feeling.
For once in my Vampyre life I actually slept during the day. Now that the other Vampyre royals are at the castle, I know Acacius won’t go outside and there are more eyes watching us. We can’t risk being caught by Molaris, nor her frenemies. I take careful precautions in the passing days. This evening I awoke to an insistent knock at my door. I opened it in a heat of anger and was greeted, not by a person, but a rather large box on the ground at my feet. I have yet to open the gift, or trap, that is now sitting on my bed.
I quickly glide the obsidian rock of dye through my silver hair making it black and quickly plait the wet strands. When I step from the stone tub, the water an inky black from the color, frigid air kisses my skin. A thousand droplets twinkle on my slightly tanned body. The sun had certainly made its mark on my skin and I understand why Molaris was so persistent to question me last night before the arrival. She knows that I haven’t been sleeping during the day. That, in addition my tanned skin is basically waving a flag in her face, announcing I am not a pure Vampyre. I need to start being smarter with my decisions, especially now that my mate is somewhere here in this castle probably just as close to my enemy as me. And although I have no idea where he is staying, if I close my eyes and follow the feeling in my gut I know I’ll find him in a lavish chamber of red and black. It feels as if a tether is connecting me to him, keeping us together, even when we’re apart.
I leave the bathroom behind me as I head to the ominous box, sinking into the plush blanket on my bed. Whatever’s inside must be a bit heavy if it is being absorbed by the comforter. The silver box is wrapped in a gold silk ribbon, tied neatly at its top. A small folded paper is tucked beneath the knot of the bow. I pull the card from the box and open it. The paper reads, in flawless handwriting:
It would mean a lot if you wore this to the feast tonight. I picked it out myself and only the most beautiful Faerie in all the land could pull of such an elaborate piece of artwork. It will be ravishing on only you, Milady.
No name is printed at the bottom of the parchment and I tear the paper into minuscule pieces. I don’t need a name to see who it is. I can smell the warmth and sun on the shreds. He doesn’t know I’m a Vampyre. He thinks I’m a Faerie in a Vampyre court. I don’t need anyone cleaning through my room to find the ripped paper and put the pieces together like a puzzle, so I toss the shreds into the hearth. I stalk back to the box and tear away the ribbon that flutters to the ground before lifting the lid, revealing the masterpiece within. The gown is folded tightly into the square space and when I yank the golden dress from its package many, many, many lace and tulle skirts pool onto the floor. The gown is a warm gold, like a sunset yellow, and the bodice is like a large heart. The strapless top is made of fine, smooth lace. Crystals and gems of every shade of yellow are sewn to it like a mirror.
It takes far longer than I wish to put the artistry on and when I stare at the mirror in my room, surprised by how well I fill out the dress. The fire makes me look like a radiating star. I am a burning sun in the dark night of Crimson Island and I quickly apply some makeup onto my face. I put kohl on my eyes, a pale pink tint onto my lips, and lastly some dark color to fill out my cheeks. My dry, onyx hair is crimped from the braid. I toss the length over my head, hiding my usual middle part and causing a dramatic, yet elegant lift to my otherwise lifeless waves. I set the new part with a glittering golden comb and rise from my vanity where I keep my makeup. The red and black chamber of my room is awkward against the bright coloring of my dress.
A curt knock jumps me from my thoughts and I run to answer the door. It could be him, I think to myself. But to my disappointment Acacius waits behind the wood. “Don’t you look,” he chews on the right words to say. “Quite ravishing?” He doesn’t look bad himself as I notice the velvet black tunic, accented and trimmed in gold.
“Thanks,” I say sounding more bland than gleeful. He quirks his eyebrows in silent question. I make a twin of his look.
What’s wrong? He asks within my mind and I roll my eyes before walking down the hall towards the familiar entry hall. The disappointment must be written all over my face, so I shake away my features and place a permanent smile onto my lips. He runs after me and takes my arm in his before we arrive at the stairs that lead up to the throne room. We ascend the flight, my trailing skirts gliding up the steps, and reach the platform above, but make a left turn to uncharted territory. Many servants bustle through the dark corridors, illuminated by a few lamps on the walls. The dark light doesn’t stop my eyes from glancing at the crescent moon scars on the servant’s necks. Almost all of them have visible signs of being fed on. I wonder if, besides the girl Acacius saved, if any human in this castle hasn’t been fed on. Each scar on a human body is a reminder of what I am and what Lunan thinks I’m not. What if he hates me for being a hybrid? My stomach threatens to spill on the floor.
Acacius doesn’t notice my discomfort and keeps leading me onward down the never-ending corridor. The walls become barer and thicker, cobwebs fill the alcoves and cover the statues. I know we are somewhere that Molaris never uses. The doors at the end of the hall gape open like a yawning mouth and Acacius enters the room with a wide grin. I try to match his smile, but my eyes defy me. The two kings and queens glare at us and don’t even care about the adamant anger on their faces. They are outright bored with this dinner and it hasn’t even started.
Lunan is seated next to Tyrion and I get the best seat of the house, across from the Vampyre king and between Scout, to my right, and Acacius, to my left. Molaris is seated at the head of the table and Aaron is beside her and Tyrion is next to him. Strange looking Vampyre’s, fill the other two-thirds of the dark wooden table that dwarfs the di
ning chamber. A glittering chandelier hovers above the feast spread out before us. I ignore the livers and organs, my stomach turning at the thought of the people being carved up to feed the monsters sitting around me. No longer do I care to feed on human’s blood. My discomfort must reek because I notice Scout’s nostrils flare. Her sea-green eyes seem to be welcoming, but her demonic smile and face say otherwise. I hate to admit it, but she is regal in the black gown, accented in scarlet red.
Molaris is holding the title of queen very tightly tonight with a crown of twisting black thorns that circles her skull, like a demon’s halo, atop her head. Her once short, but now long ivory hair is braided over a shoulder and her dress, tightfitting to show off her alluring curves, is made of scarlet lace. I swear its blood red in the light of the dining hall. She keeps a horrifying grin plastered to her face as she scans the guests around the table, one by one, taking it all in person by person, Vampyre by Vampyre. Her iridescent irises hold onto me for a minute too long as they glide over my dress and then shift to Scout.
Aaron is the first to speak. “You have a truthfully beautiful home, Molaris.”
Tyrion quickly jumps in, pulling the attention back to him. “Not as wonderful as my castle in Vampyra.” I can only imagine what the Vampyre Kingdom must look like because from what Acacius taught me is that Molaris is the only Vampyre to not have a kingdom with living citizens in it. She just has a castle on Crimson Island and lets her court stay within the confinements of it. Tyrion has the biggest kingdom, homing over forty thousand Vampyres. Tyrion’s eyes slide to me and my skin immediately crawls beneath his stare. “Or maybe I’m wrong. Nothing is as beautiful as this work of art in front of me.” A blush rises from my neck and blossoms on my face. A growl ripples through the room and I look to Molaris. She wasn’t the source of it and neither was Acacius. The whole table looks to Lunan.
The Reign of Queens: A Kingdom of Diamond Antlers Novel Page 12