Lenna cut her eyes, wider now at the implication, looking from Laurent to Esmeray. Her fully tattooed arm seemed completely ostentatious against the rest of theacatisaround her. If Lenna did the calculations right, the next most powerful being on the patio would be Laurent. But she didn’t know exactly what Laurent or Sparrow’s powers truly were.
“Esmerayisthe strongest being here. By far,” Merrick supplied. Esmeray scowled, as if the reminder was one she wasn’t keen on acknowledging.
“But I don’t know who my lineage god is,” she added, crinkling her nose slightly at her tattooed hand, “my father’s side, the fae side, have water magic. I obviously do not. My battle magic is gold, and my familial battle magic has always presented as water wielding.”
Sparrow said, “I don’t know my lineage god either. Meer and I both received differentacatisthan our parents.”
The two females shot each other a smirk. “It’s probably why we became such fast friends at court,” Esmeray confessed, “Sparrow has always understood me more than Adara.”
“Probably because you both have such a desire to be troublemakers,” Laurent quipped unhelpfully, smiling wide as Esmeray and Sparrow playfully punched each other’s tattooed arms.
“Anyway.” Esmeray shot Laurent a sarcastic grin before turning to face Lenna. Honey brown eyes met determined green. The Queen addressed the Oracle, and Lenna felt her cheeks flush as the rest of the group set their eyes upon her again. “Ready to use the Prism?”
Chapter thirty-eight
The Prism
Astunningfemalewithwings the color of fresh snow glided slowly along the pebbled path along the beautiful gardens. Her long, white hair was unbound, slipping down past her waist. Delicate, slim horns adorned the top of her head, no more than four inches long, and looked to be made of solid opal. Her pale hands were clasped in front of her, portraying the image of fragility and purity.
Next to her, a handsome gargoyle accompanied her walk. He was tall and burly–towering over the wispy female beside him by a foot. His wings shone metallic and golden in the light of the setting sun. Even the bone structure of his wings looked to have been crafted of the precious element, as did the thin membranes connecting the ligaments. Sleek gold horns curved up from his skull, solidifying the image of a godly warrior. Tight curls of rich brown hair were tied back into a knot at the nape of his neck. Dressed in a full regalia of white armor, the male walked slowly, his head turning on a swivel for any sign of danger.
The female led him through the winding garden, where hedges full of white roses snaked along the path, ever so often interrupted by a marble fountain, or an old, weeping willow with its branches swaying in the light breeze.
The gargoyle male listenedpolitely as the beautiful female pointed out flowers and exotic trees, but his dark green eyes continued sweeping across the landscaping, alert to any outside intrusions. She seemed to be shoving down irritation as the male politely nodded–without really engaging in any of her commentary.
As sounds of metal clanging on metal broke the tranquility of the gardens, the gargoyle pricked his ears up in unease. The male raised a hand to quiet the female, his body tensing. With a hand on the hilt of a dagger strapped to his side, his eyes darted around, searching for the source of the noise. Silently, he stalked forward, gaze roving over the hidden grass plots behind the hedges. Next to him, the female had her mouth clamped down in a thin frown–as if the sounds that would typically be interpreted as danger were merely an interruption to her day. The gargoyle stopped in his tracks as he beheld the female over the hedges to their left with wings black as night.
Esmeray wore a white gown, splotches of mud and dirt marring the fabric. The bottom of the hem was jagged, as if it had been purposely and haphazardly cut. Fluffy skirts that had undoubtedly been shaping the flimsy material lay discarded and dirty on the ground. She didn’t look up as the gargoyle with the golden wings paused–watching.
Esmeray’s black hair whipped, free and loose, as she swung the sword in her hand. Around her, four guards wearing the same armor as the golden winged warrior parried and blocked her sword’s thrusts.
The golden gargoyle smiled, his muscles relaxing. Behind him, the female scowled, white wings snapping close to her lithe body, her eyes shooting from the male to the dark-haired princess–her twin sister.
Adara watched as Esmeray whirled around, her sword clashing against the swords of two guards. The three weapons clanged together, catching–Esmeray’s sword holding in the middle. With a leer, Esmeray spreadher black wings wide, launching up and over the two guards, effectively dislodging her sword from the other two–and decapitated the guard on the left.
The male standing with Adara shouted, one hand thrown across Princess Adara in a protective stance, the other flying to the broadsword strapped down his back between his golden wings. Adara put a palm gently against the male’s muscular forearm, shaking her head. She did not look the least bit affected by the sister who just beheaded a royal guard in the garden.
“My sister is blessed with the power of illusion. The guards are not real.” Her voice was soft, but the words were short and curt, as she gave the male a tight smile. “Princess Esmeray has been prohibited from training with any real warriors by our father. In defiance, she makes her own. Flesh and blood yes–but nothing more than an illusion, Sir Keerian.”
Keerian, mouth agape, hand frozen around the handle of the still-sheathed sword, darted his eyes from the beautiful Princess at his side, across the hedge to the beheaded guard. As Adara spoke, the beheaded guard–the illusion–stood and headlessly bowed towards them before disappearing in a flash of gold. The three other guards mimicked the bow before the light enveloped them as well.
The golden wave of magic faded, leaving a scowling Esmeray glaring at the pair across the hedge.
“What.” Esmeray’s eyes narrowed as the sword in her hand disappeared. She crossed her arms, sending a leveled look at her sister. “What are you doing, Adara? And why are you with Sir Keerian? Father will be pissed that you left your room.”
Adara smoothed her hands down the front pleats of her pristine dress–as if the dirt on her sister would jump from her soiled gown to her own. “I asked Father if I could walk in the gardens. Sir Keerianvolunteered to escort me since the threat of the rogue fae band has still not been resolved.” Adara cocked her head, mirroring the look of irritation Esmeray shot at her, though the corners of her full lips turned up in a sneer. “Imagine Father’s wrath when he realizes you left your room, with no escort, to sneak away and play with swords.”
Esmeray’s jaw clenched as she assessed Adara and Keerian, seemingly weighing her options. Then, the black winged Princess smiled, a smile that did not reach her eyes.
It was purely predatory, Esmeray all but baring her teeth at her twin.
The dark twin versus the twin of light.
Finally, Esmeray huffed, “Tell him. I don’t care.” She shrugged with feigned indifference, the smile fading to a grimace, the fabric of her ruined dress rippling against her thinly muscled body. The twins appraised each other with disdain, but it was Keerian that broke the rolling tension.
“Princess Esmeray, it is not safe for you to be out here alone. Please, let me escort you back to the Palace.” He reached out for her, but Esmeray ignored him. Tossing her sheet of black hair over her shoulder, she turned away and waved her hand in the air. Six guards appeared, standing in perfect formation.
Keerian stepped back, his hand dropping listlessly to his side. Now, each guard created by Esmeray’s illusion magic appeared perfectly in his likeness.
