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He let out a low growl and looked down at Layala once again. “You don’t remember anything? I don’t look familiar to you?”

He did but not for any reason he was thinking. She shook her head.

“And you don’t remember Varlett either, do you? At least from before.”

What was there to remember? He was long gone by the time she was born. This must be a case of mistaken identity. Maybe she only looked like the Valeen they once knew, a doppelgänger. “All I know is that Varlett is your very devoted lover.”

He smiled. “You must still be young.” His hand felt its way up from her throat to her cheek, sending an involuntary shiver through her. He brushed his thumb over her lips. If he moved it any closer, she’d sink her teeth into him. “Twenty-five?” How could he know that? And what did her age have to do with anything? “Maybe twenty-six. Mathekis knew he had to wait until you were the proper age to wake me.” He tilted her face side to side. “But your power is weak. You haven’t been using it like you should. No one has trained you.”

How could he know all this simply by looking at her? Her chest rushed up and down with panicked breath. All she wanted was to be able to move her body again and fight. Her muscles felt so taut and strained they ached.

“I didn’t remember in the beginning either.” He tsked. “What are we going to do about that, love?” He took the dagger from her hand and held it up. “You tried to kill me with this? You’re either misguided or a fool.”

Layala gathered all the saliva in her mouth and spit in his face.

He chucked and wiped his cheek. “Maybe you do remember me.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, you smug bastard. Release me!”

“If you’d been using your power like you should, Val, you could break free of my hold.” He smiled, showing off his beautiful teeth and the dimple on his left cheek. He even had that small scar across his chin too as she’d seen in her dream. “You had the power to rival even me.”

As if his words gave her strength, she curled her right hand into a fist and punched him straight in the jaw. His head snapped to the side, and he growled, low and menacing. When he looked back, darkness clouded his eyes, and he slowly grew a wicked smile. “Ah there you are.” He gripped her throat tighter and that iciness in her blood stilled her completely again. “But that won’t happen again.” He paused looking her over. “I couldn’t have asked for a better welcome back gift than to watch you helpless under my touch. I wonder, would you beg me to let you go?”

Her knees suddenly crumpled, and she dropped to the stone. The pain of the impact flared up her injury and she winced. “Thane!” she shouted but her voice echoed around the room as if a sound barrier kept it inside. Was she trapped in here now? The anxiety of being stuck in that tower at Castle Dredwich coiled its way through her. Her breaths came quicker; her composure began to slip.

He smiled again and tapped his finger on his chin. “Thane?” he purred. “Maybe I’ll let you go to him if you say, please, Hel let me go. Please, Hel, most wise, handsome, and all-powerful god, show me mercy.”

“Piss off,” she snarled. She wouldn’t beg.

His smooth-as-honey laugh bounced off the tower walls. “Oh, what fun we’re going to have. And I do so enjoy seeing you on your knees but...” He stood from his crouch and with one simple flick of his finger Layala rose and her feet lifted off the ground until her face was level with his. “It’s unbecoming.” He shoved his palm against her Raven armored chest and pinned her to the wall. The harsh impact stole the breath from her lungs. “See, a queen should never be on her knees.”

Layala’s eyes widened,a queen?

His gaze drug down her form. “This won’t do either.” With a snap of his fingers, her armor vanished, and a gown of blood red wrapped around her body. Straps wrapped around her neck and his hand slid up the length of her thigh where a slit in the dress revealed bare skin, all the way to her hip. His gaze fell to the stab wound. “Who hurt you?” He didn’t sound concerned but almost as if it delighted him. His eyes were fixed on the blood.

Anger and fury burned hot in her chest, as his fingers danced around the throbbing pain. She wanted to tear his hands off her, but she still couldn’t move. “Stop touching me.”

He finally tore his gaze up. “I asked you a question, love.”

She almost felt compelled to answer, as if she couldn’t resist. “The elf I hate most in this world hurt me. King Tenebris. More than once. More than anyone ever has.”

He cupped his palm over her injury. Warmth radiated from his touch and to her utter surprise, the throbbing stopped. “Why does that name sound familiar?” he mused.

“He was the elf prince you made a deal with, Lord,” Mathekis offered.

The Black Mage tsked again. “Ah, yes. He should know better than to touch what is mine. He and I had a deal, you know. I’d kill his father so he could be king and if he ensured you were brought to me, he’d become a mage. He couldn’t resist but neither could the rest of the elves. Oh, the fun back then.”

“You tortured and killed and cursed elves because you thought it was fun?” Her voice overflowed with disdain. “That’s why you did this?”

“Why? I did it because I could, love,” he said in a tone that sounded flirtatious. He stared at her face as if he couldn’t look away. “Gods, you are even more beautiful than I remembered. The envy of all in Runevale.”

“I’m not Valeen. I’m a descendant of Runevale but I’m not from there. As you said, I’m twenty-five. I was born here.” She hoped he would see reason. See that this was a mistake.

His lips hovered an inch from hers, and his wild turquoise eyes filled with mischief and delight. “You may be known as Layala Lightbringer but that’s not who you truly are. There is only one person who could bring me back. One single female in all the realms. And her name,yourtrue name is Valeen. A goddess reborn.” He tugged down the collar of his shirt to reveal a lily mark exactly like hers on the left side of his chest. “And you aremywife.”

Chapter42

Thane grabbed a fistful of his father’s hair and dragged him in a slow steady march. The soldiers around them stopped fighting and parted for him. They watched with what he could only describe as relief, that their fight might be over. In the end, this battle came down to who wore the king’s crown.