Damnation. “Averell, don’t do it!” He followed after her at a loping pace.
“Dearest Quinn, I will live or die on my own terms, or not at all,” she threw over her shoulder. “Surely you can understand that.”
“I can, of course, but…” It was maddening to have this discussion while on the run. He caught up to her in short order and wrapped a hand around her upper arm, halting her forward momentum. “Stop.”
She swung around, her eyes rounded and full of confliction. “Please let me go. I have to do this.”
“What of making a choice?” His chest seized so tight he could barely breathe.
“I am.” She wrenched from his hold, imploring him with her eyes that held so many emotions he couldn’t discern just one. “I am making my choice as well as my stand. Let me do this.”
“But—”
“For us.” The plea seemed to echo in the quiet of the night.
His wolf growled deep inside his head. Quinn’s own body tensed with anxiety. The decision was hers alone, and in her place, he would probably do the same thing, but right now in this moment, anger raged through him. No one should have to make such a choice. “Averell, I… I need to say…” Could he do it? Did he have the courage?
“I have to go.” Her voice broke on the last word and she backed away.
I’m losing her. He held out a hand to her and pushed through a breaking heart. “I love you.” How amazing it was to say that to another person, yet it wasn’t enough to keep her with him in this moment.
“Oh, Quinn.” Averell’s chin quivered. Wonder filled her expressive eyes. Her lips moved but she didn’t utter a sound. She turned and ran through the gardens, toward the rose arbor—and his brother.
Away from him and all the possibilities before them.
Go after her. Don’t let her do this.
While he agreed with his wolf, he snorted in frustration. You’ve met her. I cannot stop her from doing anything.
He lost sight of his brother while chasing after Averell. Barely could he keep her flapping skirts in view as she wove through the trees and around topiary sculptures, her heels crunching on the pathway. By the time he gained the rose arbor with its wooden lattice-work arches arranged in a semi-circle, he was too late.
Henry had been tied to a pear tree that grew in the middle of the garden, his hands bound behind him. Thick ropes lashed about his chest and kept him motionless to the tree trunk.
He addressed his brother. “How the hell did she manage to do that to you in seconds? I was right behind her.” Astonishment and horror rang in his tone.
“Don’t be an idiot, Quinn. She didn’t.” Henry strained at his bonds. “Get me the hell out of here. There is dark magic at work.”
Quinn shook his head. No matter how hard he looked, he couldn’t spot Averell. Where is she? “What are you even doing out here? I thought you’d become enchanted with the blonde.”
“The clock struck midnight and she ran from the castle as if the hounds of hell were after her,” Henry spat out with a fair amount of ire in his voice. “I’d taken the girl out here—by the by she calls herself Cinderella but I’m certain that’s not her real name—meaning to get off a kiss or two in the rose arbor, but she ran. Left behind a glass slipper.” He gestured at an object glittering in the light of the silver full moon nearby. It looked forlorn on the thick, green lawn. “Who the devil wears shoes made of glass when going dancing? Or at all?”
Before Quinn could reply to the fantastical tale, Averell came into sight with a golden dagger in her hand. The moonlight glinted off the wickedly sharp blade, the same one that had been used to kill her father. She’d no doubt kept it strapped to her thigh beneath her full skirting.
“I knew I should have tupped her during the ball,” Quinn mumbled beneath his breath and his wolf internally growled. Seeing her naked would have revealed the concealed weapon, perhaps stopped the events that were about to unfold. “My fault for not confiscating the damned blade to begin with.”
Despite the circumstances, Henry chuckled. “You’re tip over tail for her, brother.”
“Aye.” But the knowledge brought him no peace. Not now.
“Go away, Quinn,” she asked quietly, her voice clear and unwavering, a plea in her eyes. “There is more at play than you realize. I don’t want you hurt, but you were right about one thing.”
“What’s that?” Warily, and with stealthy steps, he circled the area while Henry bounced his attention between him and Averell.
“My mother is here.” She sent her gaze to the opposite side of the garden where a tall woman cloaked in black removed herself from the shadows.
“The devil you say.” He swung around as the woman crept—floated—closer.
“That is a rather lofty title, Prince Quinn, but I have not ascended to such heights. Yet,” the queen said. She followed the statement with a laugh that set his skin crawling and his wolf raging in frustration. “But, by all means, do as my daughter says and be gone. My fight is not with you—tonight.”
He curled one of his gloved hands into a fist. “What are you doing here?”
The woman laughed again and sour bile climbed the back of his throat. She threw back the hood of her cloak. Dark hair much like Averell’s gleamed in the moonlight, but her face was smooth and full with no sign of aging. Her blood red lips curved in a predatory grin. “First rule of being evil, dear boy, is to never trust a human to do the job correctly, especially if that human is related to you.”
Before he could respond, Averell laughed, the sound bitter. “Then why did you even put such a task to me, Mother? It is past midnight and here I stand, still alive.” She tsked her tongue as she taunted the queen. “Second rule of being evil, always keep your word.”
Was she mad or brilliant? Quinn couldn’t decide. Averell moved across the arbor from the opposite direction of the queen, eventually standing before Henry and… He sucked in a breath. She meant to defend him, regardless of what it meant to her own life.
If he hadn’t already lost his heart to her, he would have done so in that moment.
“Ah, then allow me to rectify the oversight.” The queen raised a hand and pointed a finger at Averell.
“No!” Quinn sprang into action. He bolted over the grass and didn’t stop until he wrapped Averell in his arms. “You’ll have to go through me first.”
“All right. Saves on the clean up afterward.” The queen shrugged and once more pointed her finger. A fast flash lit the area and then a bolt of lightning left her fingertip. It plowed into Quinn as he turned himself and Averell. He took the full impact in his back.
Agonizing pain ricocheted through his body as he fell to the ground at Averell’s feet. In his head, his wolf howled in rage. The act that would cease this debilitating agony and bring healing was activating his wolf’s magic. He gave in and let the shift claim him—had no choice really—and soon his body contorted, his limbs bending and breaking while he did what he never wanted Averell to witness.
He transformed into the beast.
Kill her, said his wolf.
Not knowing to whom the pronoun referred, Quinn shook himself. The chill in the midnight air filtered through his fur. Kill them all, he answered.
Let all hell broke loose.
CHAPTER 10
AVERELL THOUGHT she’d been angry when her mother had used magic to bind Prince Charming to a tree. It was nothing compared to the rage coursing through her veins when that same woman had zapped Quinn with enough energy to put down a large stag.
And then to see him shift into the wolf? A shudder rippled down her spine as he lay at her feet, still twitching but in his animal form. Ominous growls came from him that sent fear sailing over her skin. How long would it be before he regained control of his faculties and came after the queen—or me?
“Leave them alone, Mother,” she demanded. “Your fight at this moment is with me.” She resettled the dagger in her palm. “If I am to die anyway, it will be defending Prince Ch
arming, for he has done nothing to you and does not deserve to die.”
Queen Grimhilde, the ruler of Sarringden, narrowed her eyes. With a wave of her hand, she sent Quinn’s form careening across the arbor and crashing into one of the trellis arches bedecked with creamy yellow roses. Wood splintered and foliage scattered. “Why so noble? You do not know either one of these men, for your miserable father locked you away from the world.”
Heat slapped at Averell’s cheeks. “That is none of your concern.” She waved the dagger. “Destiny meets us regardless of what stands in its way or the roads we take to avoid it.” Her mind reeled at the truth of that statement. Her father had tried so hard to keep everyone from her, but the one man she’d needed had found her anyway.
She caught her breath at the wonder of it all, but there would be time enough to marvel at it later.
“Ha!” Her mother shook with laughter. “You love one of them, but which?” She tapped her fingertip against her chin as she contemplated Prince Henry. “I suppose it doesn’t matter, but how fortuitous to know that my daughter is very close to being an influence in this kingdom.”
“I will not let you use me to further your demented agenda.” From the corner of her eye, Quinn crept along the perimeter of the rose arbor. If she didn’t do something and fast, both he and his brother would die.
“These men are not for you. They cannot give you what you most desire,” her mother crooned and recalled Averell’s attention back to her.
“Which is what?” Her mother knew nothing of her personal thoughts. She left the pear tree where the prince was tied. Perhaps if she could draw the queen away, Quinn could defend him and move himself out of danger.
“Using and strengthening your magic.” A grin stretched her red lips. “It’s what separates us from the peasants, and the animals, my dear.” Her voice was a purr. “I keep you alive even now in the hopes you’ll come to your senses. If you don’t, every minute that passes, your strength will fade and eventually your heart will simply… stop. Magic has a multitude of uses. Such is the spell I’ve put upon you in the event you do not carry out your orders.”
What a horrible scourge this woman is! “No, the ability to choose our actions is what separates us.” Averell tried to locate Quinn without breaking her gaze from her mother, but she couldn’t place him. Her time was limited; she needed to use it wisely. “If you are what happens when magic is abused, I want no part of it.”
“Nonsense.” The queen smiled with patient indulgence as if Averell was a wayward child that required discipline. “Everyone wishes to be more powerful, more beautiful or simply… more. It’s where insecurity springs from. Magic removes that.”
“I think not.” Averell shook her head. “Magic is all around us. It can work for good, and there are forms that are powerful, even more so than what you wield. Not all of it is evil.”
“Please.” Queen Grimhilde rolled her eyes. “If love is the magic you speak of, that fades and leaves naught but a broken heart and scars behind. Revenge, my dear, bolsters a person and forces them to pull from the power deep within themselves. That’s when a person truly accomplishes something, finds out who they are.”
For the first time, Averell felt a glimmer of understanding for the woman who’d given her life. Had it been her father who’d broken her heart, or another man, another scenario where life hadn’t played out like Grimhilde had hoped? In the end, it didn’t matter. A person’s choice made them good or bad. It guided them through life as the lessons were learned. “I don’t believe you.” She took a few steps toward the queen, the blade of her dagger leading the way. “We’re done here.”
“Oh, but we are not.” The queen drew an apple from the depths of her cloak. She held it in her palm, the fruit red and shining in the moonlight. “Take this, dear. Make certain Prince Charming has a nice, big bite of it.”
“Why?” Averell frowned as her mother tossed over the apple. She caught it in her free hand. “Now is not the time to ply a prisoner with foodstuffs.”
“Honestly, humans are quite stupid to work with.” The queen shook her head. “Foolish girl, it’s a poisoned apple, one I mean to use on Snow White but need to test it.” She gestured to the bound prince. “Two birds with one stone… or apple as it were.”
Averell’s heartbeat accelerated. She threw the apple far from her. It rolled beneath a rose bush. “You’re mad, and time is running short.” Hoping that Quinn would release his brother before he tried to fight, she sprang at the queen, tackling the other woman to the ground in a tangle of limbs and skirting. Her hair tumbled from its combs to further complicate matters. “Papa always said to never kill a human unless my life was threatened,” she panted as she rolled over the ground in the attempt to pin the queen beneath her. Her unbound tresses fell around her. The queen was slim but she was strong. “I’d say this qualifies.”
Finally, she straddled the other woman, securing the woman’s upper arms with a press of her knees. She lifted her dagger high but Grimhilde laughed, the hated sound ringing through the rose arbor.
“Idiot! Do you truly believe a poison-tipped dagger of my own creation will end my life?” With a surprising show of strength, she bucked and dislodged Averell. “I am immune to such poison; I made it.”
“But not the sting of the blade itself, I’ll wager.” She grappled again with the queen but this time was thrown clear of the woman. When she landed hard on her back, the dagger flew from her hand to thud to the grass a few feet away. Behind her, Henry called softly in encouragement—to her or his brother?
The queen struggled to her feet. Hatred twisted her visage into a mask of horror. “You’ll not come close enough for a second attempt.”
“That doesn’t stop me from trying.” She had to reach that blade, but risked a peek at her mother.
The queen sneered as Averell crawled toward the weapon. “You disappoint me, girl.” Lightning flew from the Grimhilde’s finger.
Intense, heated pain pushed through every nerve ending of Averell’s body. It was as if she were being burned from the inside out. She screamed the same moment Quinn in wolf form lunged at the queen. Oh, Quinn, please don’t. “She’ll kill you” she whispered, or tried to, but her lips wouldn’t move. They were numb. Neither did her limbs listen to her brain’s command to function. It was almost as if her body was frozen, except she wasn’t cold due to the burn of magic sparking through her veins.
He didn’t listen anyway. Not her stubborn prince.
Grimhilde hit the ground. Quinn wasted no time climbing upon her. He stood upon her chest, his gaping jaws over her throat. “You do not know how to control your magic.” Her laughter grated across Averell’s nerves like salt into a wound as she stared down the wolf. “Pity. This kingdom could be so much greater, and it will once I take it over.”
Another flash emanated from her finger. The wolf yelped and flew off the queen’s form. He landed in a heap not far from Averell. Their gazes locked. Within his amber depths, Quinn implored her to keep fighting.
She nodded. I will, with any strength remaining to me so that you might live free and happy.
Slowly, the pain and fire faded from her body, and Averell again dragged herself toward the dagger. Once she had it in hand, she pushed to her feet and reached into the clever pocket the fairy seamstress had sewn into her skirts. While she withdrew a small leather pouch, she advanced upon her mother’s position.
“This ends now,” she whispered, the words forced from a tight throat. Every step she took brought a host of pins and needles to every muscle. Was it the original spell of death her mother had put upon her or residual effects from the lightning zap?
Queen Grimhilde laughed. “Haven’t you witnessed by now that you have no power to defeat me?” She raised her hand once more, her forefinger extended.
“Oh, I am well aware of that, Mother.” Would she expire if hit with that flash again? “However, I don’t need to defeat you. That is a task for another.” Averell loosened the leather ties
of the pouch. She poured out a measure of glittering fairy dust into her palm—a gift from the seamstress. “But there is something equally important I wish to do.”
She rushed as close as she dared to the evil queen and then dashed the fairy dust into her mother’s direction. It shimmered and sparkled in a cloud of green, pink and purple around the woman.
“That is the extent of your powers?” The queen laughed and her finger bobbed. “It is weak magic at best.”
“Weak, perhaps,” Averell said as she settled the dagger firmly into her palm though it grew more difficult to hold, “But quite effective. It shows me the thread that connects us.” Sure enough, when the sparkling dust cloud faded, all that remained was a thread of spun silver, as if a magical spider had woven it, a thread that tethered her to this woman who held nothing but evil and vanity in her heart.
“What difference does that make? Of course we have a connection. We are related.” The queen frowned and she pointed her finger again, but this time to the side at Quinn, who had crawled back to their location. “I grow weary of these amateur games. Time to turn the princes into ash.”
“Not while I still have breath.” Averell moved, and her strength gave out. She fell to her knees at the queen’s side, but it was close enough. As the silvery illumination faded along the gossamer thread, she sliced through that link with the poisoned dagger’s blade. Silver sparks shot into the air. Powerful magic, indeed, that poison, but it did the job she’d hoped.
Queen Grimhilde gasped. She staggered back a step. Her beauty and young appearance diminished and in its place came the visage of an old woman, wrinkled, haggard, stringy white hair and with a wart on her chin. “Foolish girl, with this betrayal, you no longer have access to any magic I have given you upon your birth.”
“I am glad for it. Now you will leave me in peace.” The dagger fell from her hand to land in the grass with a soft thud. “Be gone. I want no part of you.” Her limbs had the constitution of cooked porridge and even now, her heartbeats had slowed to dangerous levels. No doubt part of her mother’s ultimate plan with the original spell.
Romantically Enchanted: A Twisted Fairytale Collection Page 47