Queen to Ashes (Black Dawn Series Book 2)

by Mallory McCartney

  The sea crashed around her as she whispered to the empty space, “I’m fine.” She couldn’t move. She couldn’t pry her eyes open. She gave in to the numbness waiting for her as Brokk’s expressions were branded into her mind: His fear. His anger. His conviction.

  As they sailed to the edge of the world, she allowed herself to feel every sharpened edge of her pain, and she knew that in the process of claiming her throne, she had lost herself. How much more was she willing to lose in the process?

  Grabbing the stale, musty pillow, she covered her face, allowing the screams to claw out of her throat, and the waves and thunder to drown her anguish.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Brokk

  Endlessness surrounded them. The sea and the horizon blended as the traces of dawn ignited in the sky. Flecks of midnight-blue and silver lingered, the turmoil from the storm long over, but as always, the trace remained.

  “Are you trying to be brooding, Foster?” Riona was at his side, the sea salt caking her skin, hair unbound, a sly smile hiding in the corner of her lips.

  “No.”

  Riona looked up to her sister, the light illuminating her. With wide eyes, Riona constantly searched for something more than the crashing of the inky sea all around them. Something more than what they had all left behind.

  To be honest, it put him on edge. Turning to look at Kiana, Brokk said sarcastically, “So, it must be hard being good at everything you try, isn’t it?” She flashed a rude gesture down at him, and a snort escaped through his lips.

  “In all seriousness though, are we safe for the moment from the Oilean and the Dark King?”

  Pausing, Kiana furrowed her brows. “Nothing is for certain; our fates change like the push and pull of the tide. Now, we wait and see where our decisions lead us. Do I hope that we are safe? Of course. Can I be sure? Absolutely not.”

  “Are you always this cryptic in the morning?”

  “A war is exploding behind us, Brokk. I’m just focusing on making it to the Shattered Isles alive. There are worse things than Marquis Maher within these waters.”

  Curiosity piquing, Brokk was moving. The deck was soaked from the raging storm, but he was sure-footed as he climbed the crooked steps.

  Kiana manned the ship’s wheel; she said between pursed lips, “Are you ready?”

  “For Marquis? Do you know him as well?” Brokk asked.

  “Of him. And we are on a dangerous path. How else do you think he has survived Adair untouched? Because he has played the game, Brokk, and he has played it well.”

  He ran a hand over his chapped lips, his mind spinning. Naturally, their world had made them all adept to survive in whatever manner they could. Them in resistance. And Marquis...?

  “We have to make him listen, Kiana.” His voice cracked.

  She finally locked her ancient eyes on him, the depth of her stare pinning him. “I have lived through a lot of dark times. I have lived through thinking I lost you, the sole person I swore my king and queen I would protect. I have lived through losing my Warriors and our magic. Our world whittling down to nothing more than shadows and myths.

  “Prepare yourself, Foster, because this time is different. I can feel it quaking the world. Whatever those demons are after, your princess has it, has defied death for it. We all have a reckoning falling on us.”

  Looking out to the horizon, he allowed the words to sink in as he watched the sun crest above the waters, shimmering like a fine jewel.

  Clearing his throat, he murmured, “Don’t you need to sleep?”

  “You’re sweet, but no. Being an immortal and a Warrior does have some perks.” Riona smiled.

  Shaking his head in awe, he turned. “Well, I’m glad you have this under control. I need some rest though. Not all of us are naithe, Kiana.”

  “You make fun, but just give us some time, Prince. You will see.”

  Sighing, his bones popped as he stretched. “Do we have food and water on this forsaken vessel?”

  Her grin widened. “Why, not a fan of open water?”

  “No, it’s fine. But your mood swings are giving me some trouble.”

  Her laugh chased him down the steps as she decided not to answer him. Brushing past Riona, Brokk tried not to think about the king across the sea. Digesting his own past had his mind reeling. Or that Emory had died. And last night...

  Sucking in a deep breath, he leaned against the stairwell wall. Fear burned deep within him as he still tried to digest everything Emory had told him. A growing doubt pitted in his mind. How could they conquer the Oilean after both needing time to heal? Adair had broken her in the deepest way—making her become a nightmare, blood staining her hands. And himself, in the quiet of the night, he could still hear the Oilean whispering to him, wanting his blood, and he would wake from the nightmares, prepared to still be captured deep beneath the earth.

  Yet, there was no time to allow the pain to overcome him. They were broken—lives constructed from love, pain, loss, and hope, and for the moment, he would have to hold on, instead of wanting to fall into that oblivion. Groaning, he silently prayed to any force looking over them to keep the resistance alive and his friends safe.

  “You look well rested.”

  Snapping his head up at Emory’s voice, he pushed himself off the wall. She dug her hands deep into her tattered pockets, her hair catching in the salty breeze. The obsidian gem rested on her chest, the patch of skin showing from underneath her collar looking as if it had been burned. But those emerald eyes blazed, clear and focused.

  “Brokk?”

  He had always been terrible at small talk. “And you too, Em.” Both clearly lies. She smirked, her hands fidgeting. He climbed down the rest of the stairs, his voice even. “Want to help me find something to eat?”

  Her face cleared at the normalcy of his question. “Absolutely.”

  The air was musty below decks, the constant moisture clinging to the boards. Goosebumps raced along his skin, as he frowned, trying to remember the crisp air of the forest, the ground beneath his paws, his safe space.

  “So...”

  “So?” A thousand possibilities coursed through him.

  “After we find food, maybe we can sit down with the others. After what happened yesterday...”

  “You don’t need to say anything more. I agree. We also need to plan. Do you have an idea of what Adair was after? Other than Marquis himself?”

  “No. I mean, Adair was after his allegiance. We can’t win against the Oilean without the numbers. It was a risk, but we were lucky that it wasn’t worse.”

  “Wasn’t worse? Em, you died.” Gone was their second of peace as the ice cut through him again.

  “I was almost dead. A key point, but it would have been worse without you. Also, it bought us more time.”

  “What do you mean?” Brokk asked.

  “I think my mom... Somehow, she left me this necklace knowing that I might be in this position with Adair, harnessing this dark magic. You know how I was telling you that I am...changed? But this necklace, Brokk, I think is somehow containing what was in Adair.”

  The world stopped. Turning, he stared at the blackened gem, his mind racing. “You’re saying you think the Oileans’ magic from the Book of Old is in your necklace?”

  “I know it sounds crazy, but with my ability, I can sense it. I can feel it.”

  Exhaling hard, he ran a hand through his hair. “Em, if that’s true, they will be hunting you. They want that magic, and then they want to kill us. All of us.”

  “Well, I guess we better find some food and then put our heads together. I have no intention of dying again anytime soon.” Brushing past him, he gawked but followed, dread pooling in his stomach.

  ***

  The jerky and stale bread was disgusting. Gripping his cup, he washed it down, the water cleansing his palate as Brokk watched the dark rolling waves. They had been at it for hours, sitting around the wheel as Kiana steered them toward the Isles. She was constantly smelling the win
ds and looking to the skies as they bantered. Swearing, Riona polished her hammer with vengeance, not looking up.

  “Do you think Emory is right?” Riona asked.

  Sighing, he said, “Without a doubt.”

  She stood, and Kiana whispered, “Riona, don’t.”

  The hammer swung from her grip, to which she pointed at her sister’s chest. “No. You two are blindly following her calls? How can we trust her?”

  “And how can I trust you?” Emory stared her down.

  Riona smirked. “I sacrificed my entire life to be a spy! I watched how you were with Adair for months, all the while the Rebels scattered, and now, I can guarantee you they will all die. All for what? So, we can go visit a man that wants nothing to do with this war.”

  “You’re not the only one who has sacrificed their life.” Emory scoffed.

  “From what I gathered from Kiana, it’s more like you ran away from your life,” Riona sneered.

  Standing, Brokk downed the rest of his water. “And continuing to argue isn’t going to get us anywhere. Riona, Kiana, once we reach the Isles, if you want to head back, then go. I stand by Em.”

  “And you know I stand by you, Brokk, until the end.” Kiana’s voice was soft, but her conviction rang true.

  “Well, that’s great. Because I’m not leaving my sister to get herself killed.” Riona shot a glare at Emory but, sighing, said, “I guess time will tell. Do we all agree then that our priority is to keep the resistance alive?” They all nodded, and the blacksmith relaxed, sitting back down. “Okay. Well, we best sail fast, sister, courting a king takes time, as some here know.”

  Emory’s face darkened, but Riona grinned.

  Stepping in, Kiana ordered, “Emory, Brokk, until we reach the Isles, train. Riona will gladly show you what Nehmai holds as a standard. We reach Marquis in five days.” Kiana turned her back, as Emory locked eyes with him. Nodding, she looked at the blacksmith, both sizing the other up.

  “Well, let’s begin.” Brokk’s voice was gravelly, as he looked behind them, at the rolling inky waters, the crisp afternoon air swirling around them. His heart wrenched, and he hoped wherever the Black Dawn rebellion was, they were preparing too.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Memphis

  The light stung his eyes as blinking rapidly, Memphis was thoroughly confused about how he wasn’t dead. The room was small, and the bed he lay on was neatly tucked in the corner. His body felt as if he had been pulled apart muscle by muscle and put back together again. Sitting up fast, nearly smacking his head against the wall, his vision dipped, pulling him under. Groaning, he cupped his head, breathing deeply. Snippets of blurred memories tugged at him. A room, the bars...and Morgan. If he was here, she must have been stopped. If she had been stopped... Memphis’s thoughts churned, not quite connecting.

  “It’s about time you came around.” Jumping, he looked up to see a very alive Nyx. Her purple hair was braided, and she wore leather boots, pants, and a loose grey shirt. And of course, she was armed to the teeth. Her eyes glinted as Memphis stared at her open-mouthed. She was alive. Jumping out of bed, he didn’t care that every move felt like knives stabbing him. He wrapped her in a bear-gripping hug, nearly crying. She was alive.

  Shoving him back, her lips curled up. “Memph, get off me. I’m not nearly as happy to see you. Though, I’m glad you’re not dead.”

  All he could do was stand there, mouth gaping. Nyx threw clothes at him. “Get dressed and get ready. A lot of things have changed.”

  Nyx left the room as Memphis ran a hand over his mouth, hastily putting on the fresh clothes and fitted leather shoes. Pulling his long hair back with a leather band, he sat on the bed for a moment. Coughing, he straightened, staring at the back of the door and what might be waiting for him behind it: The Rebellion broken and split, dancing with death, a world in turmoil.

  A thousand whispers hurled themselves at his mind, making the room spin slightly as he tried to take even breaths. Stay in control. Taking a step, his lungs ignited into flame. Another, and his bones felt like they were grinding into dust. And another, his gut felt like it was being wrenched out of him. Through the lacing pain, he made it to the door and, with shaking hands, pulled it open.

  They were in a small cottage, the pungent smell of herbs filling the air as voices overlapped one another down the hallway. Dappling light came in through the windows as he passed them, stalking into reality in a dreamlike state. The kitchen was small and cramped, cupboards and shelves toppling with books, utensils, plates, and well-worn cups. Nyx stood off to the farthest corner, arms crossed, shadows cutting across her sharp features. Grief flickered to anger as she took him in. The conversation died as he cleared his throat, looking at the group.

  Azarius stood first, Alby behind him. “Memphis, how are you feeling?”

  “Truthfully?” He scoffed.

  Alby smirked. “I can imagine just as youthful and jubilant as I am feeling.”

  “Sit, please. You will need your strength.” Azarius motioned for him to sit down.

  Memphis complied. Groaning, his senses were filled with velvety steam as he looked down to the cup that was placed before him.

  Lana smiled kindly, trying to break the tension in the room. “You will feel better, trust me. Drink it.”

  Stiffly, Memphis clutched the cup, the warmth searing his skin. The others took their seats, watching as he sipped; his taste buds exploded with citrus and hints of lavender.

  Azarius seemed to assess the dark bruises while he sized him up before sighing. “What do you remember?”

  “It’s all very choppy. After Nyx was brought here, I remember going to Morgan. After that...” Memphis trailed off, lost in the darkness of the bars enclosed around his mind as his body relived the dragging moments of desperation.

  “You were poisoned. You are lucky to be here, if I’m being honest with you. You should thank both of these talented ladies for that,” Azarius stated drily.

  Looking around the room, Memphis tried to voice his gratitude for being saved. But seeing Nyx so comfortable amongst these strangers, his resentment seared within him, until the harsh words burst from his mouth.

  “So, you have warmed up to joining the rebellion I have seen? Despite what Nyx did?” The darkest corners of his heart roaring at Nyx’s betrayal. In all their betrayal.

  Nyx pushed herself off the wall. “You want to do this now, Memphis? Fine.” Nyx stalked toward him, everyone else frozen in their seats. “I did go to Adair. I did try to trade the lovely princess for our freedom. Because I have navigated my life based on waiting. Waiting for a plan that would drag us out of this nightmare, for a miracle.

  “And I took a blade for you because I will always have that blood on my hands, and there is nothing that will ever take that back. That will make it better. That will bring them back. And I am not asking for your forgiveness. But right now, you need to put what happened between you and me aside and listen to what Azarius and Lana have to say.”

  Swallowing hard, he looked to Lana, and she leaned forward. “You will want to drink your tea for this.”

  And she began. This woman laid bare the truth he had been seeking his entire life. Of hidden worlds, lying monarchs, hiding the one thing that poisoned their world. Slowly draining his tea, his mind became clear as Memphis tried to grapple with it. Once she stopped, his mouth was dry, his head pounding. The walls seemed to close in as he slammed his fist against the table, making everyone jump.

  “All this time. All this time.” He fumed, pushing his chair back.

  “Memphis, listen to me.” Nyx was there, trying to navigate through his anger. “This is our shot. This is it. We have to trust them.”

  “Or what? Brokk is our only hope to have a fighting chance? What about finding him? I don’t even know if he is alive.”

  “We kill Adair, and the Book of Old will die with him.” Azarius’s voice cracked. “I have a hard time wrapping my head around this, but we cannot fall into the lies and mistak
es of those who are long gone. We can’t find the answers there. The answers are within us now. We are our future—this group here.”

  “So, what’s this grand plan?” The sarcasm dripped thickly off Memphis’s words.

  Lana looked at them all fiercely. “I have been waiting my whole immortal life to liberate this world along with my own, Langther. The Faes’ reign is long over, and we all must prepare that in this life, rebuilding the foundation will mean lives lost, and all our hands will be covered in the blood of our friends and family. It will mean the ultimate sacrifice and not letting our emotions rule our actions.” Her gaze burned into his.

  Alby laughed. “Well, by fire and flame. So, we are the start of what Lana said, The Original Six? A group of rebels to tip the scales of good versus evil. This is historical.”

  Lana shook her head. “No, we are the start of our freedom. No titles. Just us.”

  It was all too much. Memphis felt a hole being punched through his heart as he grieved for his family slaughtered at the Academy, but the wheels of war were only spinning faster.

  He couldn’t help himself as he asked, “And we truly believe that Emory betrayed us for Adair?”

  Azarius snarled. “She could be sitting here right now if she had chosen to. She betrayed us. Now we must move forward, understanding she is the enemy.”

  Narrowing his eyes, Memphis’s mind churned. It would appear Azarius was right. He had been there, hearing her scream tear through the stadium. Her conviction. Memphis wanted to let her go, but gods above, deep down, he knew he couldn’t. Not until he had a chance to talk to her, to separate his nightmares from reality.

  Lana stirred her tea slowly. “We must scour this land for every living soul that will join our cause to unite against Adair. If we are all in agreement, we start after today. Memphis and Nyx, you will leave to find survivors and bring them back safely. Azarius and Alby, you will man Pentharrow and make all the preparations needed. I will find Brokk, and once we have our army, we march on Adair.”