Beyond the Mountain

by Lily Archer

  “We can be whatever we want to be.” Taylor’s words float through me, melding with my own.

  “I can hear her in there. But she’s you.” Selene taps my temple. “Confusing. But all will be one soon enough. Now answer my question. What shall you be?”

  “I can’t go home. I mean, back to earth.” Leander’s voice resonates in my heart. “I am your home.” I rub my eyes. “I don’t want to.” I realize that neither of us do. “I’m not a changeling. Maybe I don’t know what I am or what I should be. But I feel this desire to destroy. It’s so strong.” I close the ball of death in my fist, and it disappears, then open my palm and watch it ignite again. “I want to take it all and rule.”

  “Your father. That’s him in there.” She taps my temple again. “It’s you but not you. Locked away for so long by the soulstone, it came roaring out. Ready to tear the world to pieces and feast on its bones.” She grins as if she likes the taste of her own words. “This feral form you’re in is Shathinor’s blood, his soul as black as night. The wings, the hair, the red lips.” Her eyes dart to my mouth. “Makes me want to relive my college of magic days. Tempting feral.”

  I ignore her poor come-on. “Delantis said that the feral is the same as the fae. She could call hers forth in the form of a gryphon, but its name was Delantis, and it was her. They worked together. I feel like I’m at war with whatever I was before the stone was removed. She wants to overtake me, to push me back down into darkness again and lock me away.” I grit my teeth. “Never again.”

  “Delantis was correct. Very smart fae, that one.” She picks at her teeth. “Who’s Delantis?”

  “Doesn’t matter.” I sigh and sit up. “None of this is getting me anywhere. Besides, I’ve chosen my path. War. I can’t change what I am, whatever that is.”

  “I know what you are.” She pats me on the head. “I’ve known since I tasted you in the Greenvelde.”

  “Then what am I?”

  “A child of many worlds.”

  “You mean the prophecy.” I toss the black sphere into the air and catch it. “That’s not helpful.”

  “Not helpful? It tells you everything you need to know.”

  “It doesn’t even make sense. ‘She alone can start the war and be victorious, win or lose.’ How can anyone be victorious if they lose?”

  “Depends on what they lose and what victory means.” She cackles. “Prophecies are always so tricky. Maybe the seer was hedging, eh? Not wanting to say one way or another, so she twisted it into a knot.”

  “One I can’t untangle.”

  “No need. What will be is already set in motion. Choices have been made whether you know it or not.” She rises and strides to the dress. “Nice. Perfect for tonight.”

  “Tell me what happens tonight.” I itch to know where my father’s keeping Leander. The bond between us is alive but dimmed.

  “No, no, no. TMI, my dark beauty. T-M-I.” She claps her hands, the slap of stone jarring. “Besides, I can’t see the future.” She lifts the dress and holds it up to her body, then dances around the room. “I can only taste the blood in the air, sense the hate that echoes along these stone walls, and covet the bones that are soon to be stripped from their owners.”

  A knock at the door draws my attention, and Cecile returns, her gaze down as Selene waltzes around her. “Your father summons you.”

  “Fine.” I wave her away. “You can go.”

  She glances at Selene and shudders. “I-I’m to accompany you.”

  “Why?”

  She shrugs.

  “Whatever.” I strip and grab the dress from Selene as she eyes my body.

  Slipping it over my head, I roll my shoulders and let it fall in all the right places, my wings free through the open back. Before leaving, I take the obsidian blade, the haft always warm in my hand, reminding me of Delantis. She’s still here—at least some part of her is—living inside the black sword.

  Selene runs her fingers along the phylactery at my throat and licks her lips. “Blood.”

  “Not for you.” I smack her hand, and she grins.

  “Again?” She holds it out.

  “You have issues.”

  “Assuredly.” She turns to a terrified Cecile and takes her elbow. “Let’s away to the throne room. While we walk, we shall discuss ripe meat and flesh, the kind that’s rotted for weeks. Now, I like to strip the bones clean with my claws, then …”

  They stroll ahead of me down the long, dark hallway, Selene’s voice growing quieter as Leander’s begins to swell inside me. He’s afraid. My steps quicken. But not for himself. For his friends. I break into a jog. Not just for his friends, for Gareth.

  14

  Leander

  Brannon stalks into the throne room, Gareth in one hand and Beth in the other. “Your Phalanx needs a little work in the stealth department.” Brannon smirks and gut punches Gareth, who doubles over.

  “Stop!” Beth tries to claw him, but he shoves her into the waiting arms of a changeling guard.

  The iron door swings open, and Gareth joins us while the guard chains Beth to the wall.

  “I’m too good to go in the cage?” She wipes her busted lip on her arm.

  “You aren’t worth it.” Brannon slams the cage shut, and the changeling jailor locks it and pockets the key.

  “You shouldn’t have come.” I kneel beside Gareth, his face bloody and broken. “Why did you come?”

  “You are my king. I owe you my allegiance.” He spits blood as Valen goes to work on him. He can’t do much, not now that he spent so much magic to heal Thorn.

  Cenet strides in, a wide grin on his face. “We have almost all of them. This is easier than I ever imagined.”

  Beth runs at him, but her chains draw her up short. “You lying piece of—”

  Cenet strides up and backhands her. “Shut your mouth, foul changeling.”

  Gareth growls. She falls to her knees but gives Cenet a look so venomous I suspect it could kill a small child.

  I would scold Gareth for bringing Beth, but I have no doubt she insisted on coming. She’s just as tenacious as Taylor.

  Beth spits at Cenet, and he jumps back toward me. I reach through the bars and swipe for him, barely missing.

  He darts away, his eyes going snakelike.

  “You took my mate from me.” I pin him with a glare. “And sealed your fate.”

  “I’m not the one in a cage.” Cenet’s smug face begs to be punched in. “And if you try anything, this changeling will be the first to suffer.” He grabs Beth by the hair.

  She shrieks and tries to pry herself loose.

  “One hint of winter from you, and she dies.” He darts his tongue out, licking her cheek.

  “Don’t touch her!” Gareth struggles to turn over and crawl to her.

  “Lie still.” I push him down. “You can’t help her like this.”

  Cenet shoves her to the floor and re-takes his position across from the cage, his arms crossed and his gaze firmly on us.

  Gareth grunts and closes his eyes. “I’m going to kill that bastard.”

  More soldiers flow into the room, lining the walls with undead, lesser fae, and changelings. Something big is happening. I try to send a warning to Taylor, but the bond is quiet. Too quiet. Is something blocking her?

  The murmuring dead create a low hum around us as Cenet and Brannon stand watch. More soldiers trickle in, most of them looking at me with surprise, and a few with satisfaction.

  Selene’s cackle rattles around the throne room, and she walks in with Cecile on her arm, though the golden fae looks like she’s on the verge of vomiting or fainting—maybe both.

  My mind buzzes, the bond like a bolt of lightning linking me to my mate. She appears in a gown of midnight blue, and her eyes meet mine immediately.

  “Taylor.” I say her name like a prayer.

  She walks up, her chin high as she peruses all of us. “This is the best the winter realm has to offer? All caught and imprisoned in iron like fireflies in a j
ar?”

  “You rubbing it in, too?” Thorn tests his bruised jaw with tentative fingers. “We’ll never live this down.”

  I put my hand through the cage. She takes it without hesitation, the bond snapping back into place.

  “Something’s blocking our connection.” I squeeze her palm.

  “I know. I think it’s my father.”

  “He wants to use you.” I lower my voice. “He intends to control you, to have you win his war for him and then—”

  “Kill me?” She laughs, low and husky. “He has plans, but so do I. I will take the realms, and you and I will rule them. We don’t need him.”

  “Why do you want to run headfirst into bloodshed?” I move closer, peering down into her blue eyes. “Ruling the winter realm with me will have enough challenges. More than you know.”

  “I want it all.” Her fangs lengthen. “It’s mine to take.”

  “You will have to kill, Taylor—innocents, children, babes in their mothers’ wombs. Are you prepared for that? Because that’s what war is.”

  Her brows knit together. “I want—” She flinches. “Shhh. I didn’t ask you.”

  “Taylor?”

  She shakes her head. “Nothing. I will do what I must.” Her voice is cold, and she pulls her hand free. “You’ll see. When you’re king of the realms, you’ll thank me.”

  “Taylor, please, this isn’t you.”

  “I am whoever I want to be.”

  “I thought you were my friend,” Beth calls from where she’s chained to the wall. “Or did you forget all about our chats and skinny dipping?”

  “Don’t speak to me, changeling.” Taylor, menace rolling from her, cuts her eyes to Beth. “Keep to your own kind.”

  “I thought you were my kind,” Beth persists.

  “You thought wrong.” Taylor turns her back and strides up the stairs to the throne.

  I pull my hand back through the bars, my mate’s warmth fading as quickly as a curl of smoke.

  The crowd parts again as Shathinor strides by. He doesn’t even look at us, his head high. He’s dressed in full silver battle regalia, his love of pomp still strong despite all these years.

  Brannon turns to follow Shathinor up the wide stairs to the throne.

  “This is how you repay me?” I yell through the bars.

  Brannon turns, and the black runes pulse along his throat as he approaches through the crowd of warriors. “Repay you for what? Taking everything away from me? Your throne should have been mine.”

  “You would never have ruled the winter realm.” I growl. “You don’t have what it takes. Never have.”

  “Liar.” He shoves the jailor changeling out of the way and rushes the cage, the impact rattling every bit of the iron. “I will enjoy watching your death.” He presses his face against the metal and doesn’t flinch at the sizzle of flesh.

  “I told you.” Thorn rubs his newly-mended arm. “He can’t be trusted. The darkness in him is too great, too evil.”

  “Too unseelie for you, Thorn?” Brannon spits.

  “Not at all. But too ugly? Definitely.” He grins.

  “You won’t be laughing when Shathinor takes your head.”

  Thorn shrugs. “Guess not, but at least I’ll still be handsome, even in pieces. Your ugly is permanent.”

  “Keep talking, fool. Your last words will be here soon enough.” Brannon backs away. Cenet steps out of his way but gives him a long look. Perhaps he didn’t know that Brannon had been Shathinor’s chosen heir before the war began.

  “Shouldn’t have trusted him.” Gareth winces. “I told you so many times that he was ruled by the darkness, too poisoned by Shathinor to ever serve as an honorable member of the Phalanx. I hate to say it, but there it is. I told you, Leander.”

  “You told me so, eh?” I grin and hold my fist over him.

  “I did. I warned you. Thorn did, too. But you didn’t listen, and now Brannon has gone and—”

  I open my fist, and the key to the iron cage Brannon just slipped me dangles from my palm. “Now who’s saying ‘I told you so’?”

  15

  Taylor

  I stand next to the throne, the room filled with soldiers of all types, each of them bound by the desire for blood. Some of them think they’re fighting for freedom. What they’re really fighting for is me.

  Shathinor climbs the stairs as the room goes silent. Once at the top, he turns and spreads his arms. “We are here to celebrate the capture of the traitor, the pretender to my throne, Leander Gladion.”

  The room erupts in a guttural shout, then quiets again.

  Cenet stands on the other side of the throne. He glances at me, but I don’t look at him. He’s beneath my notice.

  “Tonight, we cement our alliance, our shared goal of bringing fairness to the realms. War is not an easy choice, but this war is a righteous one. One that will give changelings and lesser fae the equality they deserve, and in the end, make the realms a far better place for all who dwell there.”

  Another roar from the crowd. The changelings and lesser fae watch Shathinor with devotion, their eyes alight.

  Not Leander. I can feel him, his anger like ant bites on my heart.

  But the soldiers believe every slimy word from Shathinor’s mouth, devour the lies like they are starving for them.

  “They are,” Taylor says, her voice stronger than ever. It’s as if the link to Leander pulls her forward, presses her consciousness into mine. “They want freedom, and they deserve it. They shouldn’t be slaves. Changelings and lesser fae should be equal with high fae. You know it’s true. Their cause is just, and they want it so badly that they are blind to Shathinor’s ev—”

  “Daughter?” Shathinor motions me forward, irritation gilding his tone as if he knows I wasn’t paying attention.

  I stand next to him, his cold arm around my waist.

  “This perfect blade of death will lead us to victory. With her, we will be invincible. The realms will fall before us.”

  This is it. The moment when I embrace the prophecy and take my rightful place at the head of my father’s army. My dark heart craves it. All of Arin is within my grasp. I have but to take it. “Do not forget who you are,” Delantis whispers to me. But she never told me who I am. No one can do that. No one except me. Am I death incarnate? Or am I something different?

  The soldiers stare at me, all those upturned faces, but the only one I see is Leander’s. He stands in the cage, his intense gaze like a touch, like his hand on my cheek and his lips brushing against mine. “My love,” he whispers. The bond is stronger than even Shathinor’s attempt to block it. Leander’s love infuses me, coating my heart with warmth.

  The pure adoration in his stare, the emotion in his words, the feeling of being cherished—all of it breaks me in ways I didn’t know were possible. My fury seems to melt away like a spring thaw, the need to destroy fading as I bask in his love. I try to fight it, to stand my ground. But what we have is too strong, a love that surmounted my father’s curse, a bond too powerful to ever break. The wall between the old Taylor and what I am cracks, the distinction evaporating as she and I cross the barrier and circle each other around our shared soul. I am her, and she is me. The voice is gone. Because it’s my voice.

  My bond with Leander has tamed my feral heart, opened the locked door between the two sides of my nature. I blink away tears as he pours his love into me. “We are one. We will always be one, no matter what form you take.”

  I can’t go back to the waif in the woods, but I can’t become the destroyer of worlds. I’m somewhere in the middle, new but the same, old but different.

  “You are perfect, little one.” Leander’s calming voice filters through my jumbled mind, calming me. Whatever I am, he loves me. And that has to be enough.

  “I’ve been holding back, making sure she focused on honing her new skills, but neglecting her best.” Shathinor turns to me, his eyes infinitely cold. “Death. But tonight, I will unleash her, set her free to deal as much
destruction as she so chooses.” He points to the cage. “The traitors—you will kill all of them. It’s my gift to you.”

  I freeze, my heart storming in my chest as the crowd of soldiers roar their approval.

  My voice barely makes a sound. “No.”

  Shathinor hears it and slashes his hand through the air, silencing the room. “What was that, my princess?”

  “I already told you I won’t kill my mate for you.” I kick my chin up.

  “I’m afraid you must, my dear heart.” He pulls me tighter against him.

  “No.” I wrench myself free of his hold and back away. “That was not our agreement.”

  Cenet stands behind my father, his reptilian eyes slitted. “I told you, Father.”

  “Silence!” Shathinor thunders, and for the first time, lets his magic loose. Black tendrils flow from his eyes, fingertips, and mouth, the darkness swirling around him like a whirlwind. “Daughter, you will do as I ask.”

  “No.” I call forth my own power, the blackness surging inside me. The well of magic is even deeper now that I’ve accepted myself, my mate, and the path we will walk together.

  “I was afraid you’d turn on me, give in to that weak fool who lives inside you.” He tsks as his magic grows.

  “Leave her alone!” Leander roars from the cage.

  “Don’t push me.” I summon black death into my palms and back away from my father.

  “I’m afraid pushing you is my job as a loving parent,” he sneers and matches me step for step.

  “I’m leaving, and I’m taking them with me. All of them. Including Cecile and the changeling Taylor. I was wrong to ever join with you. I don’t want your throne. I don’t want anything from you.”

  “Pathetic.” Shathinor glowers.

  “I will kill you if I have to.” I pool my magic in front of me like a shield and keep the explosive orb in my palm. “But I don’t want to.”

  “You will kill for me, my dear heart.” He follows me, his rage growing as his magic spirals faster and faster. “You will do everything I ask. And that includes killing your traitorous mate and his friends, my darling princess.”