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Chapter 18

Melelea

Present Day

I’m in a cave, sitting on the throne of bones. The magic in them vibrates beneath me, waiting to be awakened. My lips curve into a cruel smile, and my eyes slide to the mouth of the cave where the storm outside is slowing.

Perfect.

“Hello . . . Melelea.” The sound is coming from my mind, but the voice is not my own. It is deep and dark. A monster’s voice.

“You wound me with such thoughts,” the voice says, amusement in its tone.

I’m dreaming of the demon, I realize, more clearly than ever before. I am in his head . . . and he is in mine.

“Yes, now you are getting it,” Grazrath says. “You may be seeing what I see, but I know everything that you know . . . everything.”

Alarm courses through me. He could be lying. Must be lying. Still, I need to be careful with my thoughts. He’ll be able to see anything that I actively think of, so I try to think of nothing, so that he doesn’t use what I know to help him with his twisted plans.

“I’m not lying. I already know what you know,” he says with cruel laughter coloring his voice. “About where you are, who you are with . . . and the baby.”

Mentally, I rear back, trying desperately to sever the connection between us. No! Not the baby! Anything but that! But the demon grabs onto my thoughts with a brutal grip, holding me as surely as if I were physically there.

“That’s right, Melelea. I know about the queen’s child. Can you imagine the magic of a child whose mother is Fairy-Blessed and whose grandmother is one of the last of the troll sasari? When I take Adalind, I’ll rip the child straight from her womb and drain it of its magic, every last drop. Who knows? Maybe that will be enough for me to become invulnerable again. And if not? Oh, well. I’ll still have your precious daughter-in-law. Convenient how she can heal from any abuse I enact on her.”

The demon’s mental claws tear into my mind, shredding my concentration and determination to keep him at bay. I can’t help it, I scream. Which only makes the demon laugh harder.

He continues, “And you’ll help me, won’t you, Melelea? You’ve let yourself be delivered to me in a neat little package. I’ll dig you out, and take you and drain you. Then I’ll harness the dragon’s bones, and Ilustan will fall. I’ll put your son’s head on a spike and take his weeping wife in front of it and laugh while she screams. And you won’t even be able to watch it from the Nether because I’ll drain not only your mana, but your entire soul until there is nothing left of you.”

I struggle against his mental hold, trying to tear away before he can say any more terrible things. I can see in his mind that he means them. In his mind’s eye, I can clearly see Rognar’s horrible death and Adalind’s unending pain. Archdemons pouring out of the Nether across Anar’i, destruction in their wake. The world on fire, turning to ash beneath his feet. Images that cause despair and agony to course through my veins.

Finally, Grazrath releases me, his thoughts smug at the ruin he has wrought, the hope he has crushed.

“So be a good little seer, and wait for me. Won’t you?”

✽✽✽

I WAKE WITH a scream, fighting arms that are holding me down.

“Peace!” I hear a familiar voice rumble in my ear. “Melelea, peace!”

I sob in both relief and residual terror, the fight leaving me as I remember where I am, who I am with. Wodred.

The orc’s arms tighten comfortingly around me, a warm, heavy hand coming to the back of my head, holding my face to his shoulder as I take in shuddering breaths, trying to quiet my sobs.

“It was the demon, wasn’t it?” he asks, his voice grim.

I nod wordlessly, unable to explain what I saw, what I was shown. The images that have somehow been burned into my mind.

“What does he want?” Wodred presses, still holding me in his strong arms. His hand on my head begins gently stroking my hair, a soothing gesture.

It takes me a moment to calm down enough to answer him. It is not that I have never known abuse and terror before. I have lived with grace and resilience under horrible conditions in the past, but something about being in Grazrath’s mind, feeling his certainty that he would win, seeing his plans, has shaken me to my very core. It is as if he took my hope and determination and burned them to ashes, the same way he plans to do to Anar’i. But being in Wodred’s arms, I feel the illusion of safety, if only for this moment. His pleasant cedar scent washes over me, the warmth of the heat charm surrounds me, his warm hands a welcome weight on my body that grounds me, and I finally pull myself together so that I can answer.

“It was a mistake for me to come here,” I finally say, resignation in my voice. “It’s me he wants. He tricked me with what he showed me. The bones that I saw last time are inert. He can’t use them. They require magic to harvest their power, and Grazrath plans to drain me of my mana and use that to access the bones. If I hadn’t come, then he would be farther from his goal. My quest was foolishness.”

Wodred tenses beneath me at my words. Then he carefully says, “It wasn’t a mistake. It was a risk. Perhaps we could have been more careful, true, but all wars come with risk. But, that’s what we are fighting, a war, or at least standing at the precipice of one. If we can kill Grazrath before he takes Ilustan, it will save not just our countries, but all of Anar’i. Countless innocent lives. It was not foolishness that brought you, but bravery.”

“What good is bravery when it is playing right into the enemy’s hands?” I ask, perhaps a touch bitterly.