Esmeray and Sparrow strode out of fae female’s bedroom simultaneously. Lenna took one look at the pair and knew blood would be spilled tonight.
Sparrow was dressed simply, but lethally. The leather she wore was white, with the same flexible golden armor Lenna wore. Sparrow’s top came up to her throat, down to her hands, held in place with thin loops that hooked to her middle fingers. Her hair was pinned back, out of her face, showcasing her pointed ears. A sword was strapped down her back, keeping her hands free for whatever gifts she would utilize. Lenna realized with a start that she hadn’t seen Sparrow use much magic besides making flowers bloom. Lenna wasn’t sure what Sparrow kept hidden but the blacked-out tattoo that covered half her arm alluded to some deadly surprises.
One look at Esmeray, and Lenna’s heart stuttered.
Esmeray was dressed in black leathers as Lenna, but without any armor protecting vital organs. Her top was designed as a harness, wrappingaround the back of her slim neck and buckling at the side, leaving her arms and wings exposed. The black leather pressed against her breasts, pushing them up, the tight black breeches curving around her muscled thighs.
Her wings and horns complimented the picture she portrayed of death itself. Either from illusion magic or if Esmeray had sharpened them, the talons gleaming atop the apex of her wings and at the bottom junctures of the black membranes were wickedly pointed and looked ready to slash into unfortunate souls blocking her warpath.
But it was the crown that sat atop her head, perfectly formed to wrap around the base of her horns, that made Lenna pause. The golden crown displayed a huge black diamond held in the center by two entwined golden serpents. The Queen of Nothing was about to make an entire Kingdom bow. Without knowing exactly why, Lenna did just that, bowing down onto one knee.
BeforeherQueen.
Lenna felt a hand on her shoulder, and looked up to see Esmeray kneeling before her, a soft smile illuminating her face. “Rise, Oracle,” Esmeray murmured softly, curling a finger under Lenna’s chin. The Queen’s dagger nails were gentle against her skin as she guided Lenna up.
“You look…badass.” Esmeray grinned wide, her fangs peeking out as she took in Lenna’s armor. Lenna blushed and crinkled her nose sheepishly at the compliment but was relieved to see some of Esmeray’s normal demeanor peeking out.
The three stood in the hallway for a moment, before Merrick appeared from the living room, dressed in flexible grey armor with many scuffs marring the leather. His dark brown eyes were somber, the assortment of daggers and swords strapped and beltedto his body alluding to his proficiency in battle. Lenna couldn’t count how many weapons the gargoyle carried.
“It’s time,” he rasped, his tone commanding and curt. The voice of a lethal King’s Guard. Lenna felt sweat begin beading on her body as she trailed after them into the living room. The portal stood, thrumming with impatience, before Laurent. The swirls of smoke were gone, leaving only pure white light in its wake. The power radiating from it was palpable, making Lenna’s chest heavy with pressure.
The portal Lenna traveled through from Doortan had been half the size of the one currently pulsing in Sparrow’s living room.
Laurent turned to take them all in, dressed in his usual styled robe, but these were matte black with golden threading woven through the seams.
“No goodbyes,” Sparrow said quietly. “We go in together, we come out together with Keerian.”
“No goodbyes,” Esmeray repeated firmly, as she looked from Merrick and Laurent to Sparrow and Lenna.
They gripped each other’s hands, faces grim. Everything on the other side of this portal was unknown. The only thing Lenna knew for certain was that her soul would never be the same after this.
Chapter fifty-one
Keerian
Hehatedher.
Keerian seethed with quiet rage as he sat upon the white marble throne next to Queen Adara, unable to speak due to some godsforsaken spell from Adara’s book that rendered him completely mute.
If he could use his voice, Keerian would roar for the court assembled to run. They were here under the guise of a special celebration for Carra’s Soul Moon, unaware they were sheep being led to their slaughter.
This wasso fucked. His thoughts were a garbled mess. The False Queen at his side was portraying them as a pair, acouple. But really, Keerian was bound with invisible chains upon the throne the late King Scottrell had ruled from. It felt wrong, dirty, to sit on this throne–like he tainted the image of the great fae king that he had sworn his life to serve and protect. Even if sitting here wasn’t his choice.
But the King was dead, the Queen was dead, and Esmeray, his love, his mate, had disappeared into the night kissed wind.
Up to gods only knew what.
Esmeray had been silent, barely more than smoke and whispers, over the last year. The only way he got any information about his mate’s whereabouts was through the bits of gossip he overheard from the OpalPalace’s guards stationed outside the small room where Keerian had been held. The guards tended to disregard Keerian completely while he was imprisoned, unless they were bored–then they goaded and mocked him, trying to get him to smash against the invisible barrier keeping him contained. Keerian patiently watched, listened, and waited, identifying each guard by their individual scent, and made a mental note to seek bloody retribution on every single one.
Okay, he was male enough to admit thatpatientmay be a strong word, but he only allowed the digs to get under his skin once, and when he had bounced against the barrier, his nose broken and bleeding, he vowed to keep a much tighter leash on his temper.
For Esmeray.
Ifhe ever got out of this predicament. Adara had locked him in a tower, outfitted with a single barred window, warded so thoroughly that even Keerian, with no magic besides what he had been blessed with as a gargoyle, could feel the wards sapping his strength.
Queen Adara sat next to him now, poised on her own throne, her pure white wings clasped tightly behind her back. Keerian threw a seething glare to the False Queen besmirching the name and throne of the late Queen Elera.
Adara was dressed in an elaborate yet modest gown of snow-white lace, the material hugging every inch of her too-thin body. A crown of silver and white diamonds circled her head, and her horns peeked out from her unbound hair. She would have looked beautiful, demure, if the monster lurking under her pale skin hadn’t stained her soul.
