Page 174 of Black Sea

And suddenly his horrifying beasts, peering at us while gurgling and hissing, dissolved one by one into thick puffs of black smoke.

As the snowflakes falling on us grew fewer and more scattered, I lowered the glass dagger, which then retracted into my wrist.

I stared at Mornon, stunned. Was it true, then? Was he abandoning the Crystal and the plan he’d worked on for thousands of years? For me?

Was it love that faint glow I saw shining in the ire’s fire blazing in his eyes?

Reading all those questions in mine, he inhaled angrily, and then, as if it hurt him physically, declared, “I, Mornon, surrender to you, Princess Nauriel.”

My heart skipped more than one beat.

My breath caught.

And the darkness in me rose in revolt with a tremendous roar.

“Finally,” Lady Calien’s deep, mellow voice suddenly resonated in Elvish.

A blinding white light emanated from the Crystal in the center of my chest. When it faded, the ethereal, opalescent form of my grandmother’s spirit appeared beside us.

“Calien,” I exclaimed, astonished to see her among us here in the real world.

“Mother,” my father gasped, and though I dared not turn to see the happiness on his face—too afraid of a sudden movement from Mornon—I could feel it.

Grandmother gave her son a smile brimming with love and nodded affectionately to Araton before turning her attention back to Mornon and me.

Mornon, who was gazing at her with such rancor that the tips of his hair were flaring again and the veins on his face were burning with alarming intensity.

Calien looked down at him with deep commiseration. “Poor boy,” she said, attempting to stroke his cheek with the back of her bony fingers.

He turned his head away with a grimace filled with disgust.

She withdrew her hand and regarded him with equal sternness. “Look what you’ve done to yourself for the wrong power.”

The enemy mocked her with a half-smile but didn’t meet her gaze.

I had a strong feeling he couldn’t do it. That even Mornon the Abomination was intimidated by Lady Calien’s regality.

“Except for the druids, I am the only elf to whom the Spirits have ever granted magic,” she continued, “while you were born with it. We were so much alike . . .” Her voice took on a note of sadness. “But you chose the path of solitude.”

He shot her a fierce glare. “I chose to become more powerful than you,” he said, refusing to speak Elvish.

She remained unmoved. “And you think you are?”

Mornon’s glowering expression cracked subtly.

“All this time, you have believed I sacrificed myself because I realized I wasn’t strong enough to defeat you?”

“You weren’t,” he hissed. “ No one is.”

“So, you have forgotten what I told you.” Calien paused, then solemnly said, “‘I won’t be the one to destroy you. She will.’”

Mornon stood perfectly still for seconds that felt like they stretched forever, and it was almost as if I could see his brain digging into his thousand-year-old memory to recall his fight with the Queen of the Elves. When he found it, his fiery eyes barely widened.

“ No . . .” he growled in a low voice.

A ghost of a victorious smile flickered on my grandmother’s lips. “I saw this very moment, that day. I saw you”—her gaze shifted to me—“and you.” Her face hardened. “I saw two mates fighting, instead of loving each other. And in the end, I saw light triumph over darkness.”

Mornon cut his rancor-filled eyes at me.