Page 19

FORBIDDEN HUNGER

DRAGAN

Mercenary Stronghold

She’s alive!

Seeing Eilish fills me with immense relief followed by gratitude, the likes of which I’ve never felt before.

She sighs into my shoulder and I can feel how overwhelmed she is. Noni climbs off my shoulder and hops onto Eilish and immediately begins tending to her wounds, which aren’t as deep as my own.

“Noni must focus on healing Mr. Dragan,” she says as she hops back onto my shoulder.

Eilish eyes me with worry. “Dragan... will you be all right?”

“I’m fine,” I insist, although I don’t know the extent of my own wounds.

“Should I go to Earlann and find you a healer?” she continues.

“We were lucky to make it out of that battle without attracting Variant’s attention. Let’s get back to the stronghold and tend to our wounded there.”

Myerdoth offers to assist me onto a horse and I accept his help.

The gateway to the mortal realm is only a few miles away, but the journey through the scorching sands nearly bleeds the remaining strength from my body. Sweat mixes with blood and marsh water, soaking through the lining of my armor until I feel chapped and sore. I can barely keep my eyes open.

I can see the canyon valley in the distance and Eilish reaches for my hand. “We’re almost there,” she says encouragingly.

Sentries blow the horns and the south gate to the stronghold opens. The camp is set just inside the walls and healers tend to the wounded. Eilish and Myerdoth help me to our tent and Myerdoth lowers me onto the floor.

“Can you get a Mage or a healer?” Eilish asks him. He nods and disappears as she leans over me and helps me remove my armor. When she sees the gash in my stomach, she recoils and then swallows hard.

“How bad is it?” I ask.

She nods. “Pretty bad.” She looks at my face and holds the top of her hand against my forehead, in the age-old way of judging my temperature. “You’ve lost a lot of blood, Dragan.”

A few minutes later, Myerdoth returns with a member of the Mages Guild with him. The older woman immediately enters the tent and sidles up alongside me. She focuses her hands above the wound and uses her power to knit the injury closed.

“How long until I heal internally?” I ask between breaths. The pain is terrible.

“Your body is exhausted,” the old woman answers, her long gray hair falling in front of her face as she lifts her head from her handiwork to look at me. “I would suggest a week or so until you are fully healed, maybe less if you have regular healing treatments.” The mage hands Eilish a small black pouch. “Make sure he drinks at least one cup of this each morning, or else he will prolong the healing process.”

As the mage leaves the tent, Kolvar steps inside. “King Galmer wishes to see you both.”

“Dragan’s in no shape,” Eilish starts but I wave her concern away.

“I’m fine. Just… help me up.”

Kolvar comes to my side and assists me in standing. I’m unbalanced on my feet and I have to lean against him. He looks at me with concern in his eyes.

“I could tell the king,” he starts.

“You’ll fucking tell him nothing,” I interrupt as I glare at Kolvar, followed by Myerdoth, followed by Eilish. “And will the three of you stop fucking babying me?”

Eilish smirks as she looks at Myerdoth and Kolvar, who just shakes his head.

The entrance to the stronghold opens to see us inside. The market is filled with people draped in black cloth as they cry for the lives lost in the liberation.

An enchantment causes petals of white lilies to fall from the sky like snow. A choir of female elves sings a low lament in honor of the dead, their voices rising in a beautiful, somber melody.

Eilish lowers her head and I reach over and tap her on the shoulder. She looks up at me and I offer her a smile. “You did the right thing—regardless of what you see around you.” I take a deep breath and steel myself against the pain from my wound. “This is just what war looks like.”

When we arrive in the courtyard of the Hall of Clans, King Galmer stands in his garden, long hair blowing in the hot breeze as he turns his gaze on us.

“More mercenaries returned than I had thought possible,” he says. “We feast tonight in honor of the fallen, but rest assured the fae you rescued are safe.”

Eilish and I bow our heads humbly to the king. I do my best to stand unattended, but it’s a feat.

Galmer moves to stand before us. “You and your allies may seek refuge among us. Those who wish to join your cause may do so freely.”

“But?” Eilish asks.

He nods at her. “But... I speak for my own in that we don’t want to be thrown into the thick of war with a false king and a crazed sorceress.” He takes a breath. “The Midnight Queen considers you an enemy and therefore you endanger us all with your presence.” Galmer takes a deep breath. “I wish for you to understand that, as your flag flies beside the other clans here.”

“Are you asking us to leave?” I demand.

Galmer looks at me. “No, I’m asking you to understand.”

“We do,” Eilish answers and reaches over, taking my hand.

Galmer nods at her again. “Come to the meeting tomorrow night. If the people speak in your favor, we will offer you a more permanent place for you to grow your resistance.” He clears his throat and faces Eilish. “I wish to have your ear for a moment, Lady Fulthain.”

I immediately straighten my posture and Eilish looks over at me. “It’s okay, Dragan. You need to go back and rest.”

She’s right. But I thought I lost her once…

“I promise her protection,” Galmer says with a smile as he faces me. “You have my word that she will be safe.”

“Dragan,” Eilish starts.

I nod and bow to the king as Eilish joins him inside. I stay behind and gesture for Myerdoth to accompany me back to the tent. The gargoyle is quick to comply.

“You can trust the king,” he says and I just nod.

“You mentioned this Stone Grimoire earlier,” I start as Myerdoth supports me with one shoulder. I accept his offer because I’m too weak to continue standing on my own.

“I did.”

“Tell me everything you know about it and where it was last seen.” He looks up at me with an irritated expression. I clear my throat. “Please.”

“To understand, we need to visit the library,” he responds. “Are you capable,” he starts.

“I’m fucking fine!” I insist.

“And fucking stubborn,” Myerdoth adds as he shakes his head. “If you pass out, I’m going to leave you where you drop.”

“Fine.”

We weave through the streets and I’m beyond grateful to have Myerdoth beside me. I couldn’t make this trek alone. When I feel as if I can’t move another inch, Myerdoth announces we’ve arrived.

We make our way to the large library and find a table near the back. Books float from one shelf to the next as mages use spells to replicate texts destroyed in the raids and small fae creatures organize the tomes.

I sit across from Myerdoth and the gargoyle watches the mages with distrust.

“The witch who created us wrote all of her spells in a black, leather journal with the symbol of strength and honor upon its cover.” He traces the symbol onto a scrap of paper. The scratch of the quill causes chill bumps to bloom on my skin. He passes the scrap of paper to me and I study the strange drawing.

“ Watch by day, protect by night. Only we can defeat darkness,” he starts.

“With darkness,” I finish as I look up at him. “I’ve known the oath all my life. It was from the grimoire?”

“Yes. The oath had been ingrained into us from the start. We are natural protectors, the gargoyle race.”

“Then you were there from the beginning?”

“I was.”

“Tell me the story of the witch you mentioned earlier,” I say. “Please.”

Myerdoth’s lips part slightly into the only semblance of a smile I’ve ever seen from him. “She gave us life and allowed us freedom, but I chose to stay with her. As her first creation, there was an incredible bond between us.”

I hold up a hand. “Wait a second,” I start and then take a pause. “Are you telling me, you were the first gargoyle ?”

He nods as I try to decide if he’s full of shit, delusional or just completely insane.

“I see the doubt in your eyes,” Myerdoth continues as he extends his forearm and unties a brown leather cuff that covers his skin. Beneath the cuff is a glowing red rune—and it’s in the exact shape of the picture he scribbled on the piece of paper.

“What is it?” I ask.

“The mark,” Myerdoth answers. “That shows I was the first of my kind.”

“What does it do?”

“Protects me,” he answers with a shrug. “I can’t be killed unless the mark is destroyed,” he continues as he covers the rune with the heavy leather cuff once more.

“Hence why you keep it covered?”

“Hence why I keep it covered. In times of war, I cover the leather with metal armor.”

I nod as my thoughts return to the witch and the story of the grimoire. “This woman created you and allowed you freedom, yet you chose to stay with her.”

“I did.”

“You loved her?”

“She was my mate,” Myerdoth reveals with a quick nod. “We only have one in all our lifetimes.”

“Is that true?” I ask, surprised to hear it.

“I would think you already know the answer to that question.”

I think of Eilish and I swallow hard. “Yes, I suppose I do.”

***

THEREN

Oronrel

I know I should fight these visions, the ones that pull me into her darkness, but I can’t. I glide my hands across her alabaster skin as my hips thrust into the wet, pulsating suction that holds me captive. The memory of Eilish’s love makes me dread ever leaving, ever seeing the light of day and feeling the burden of being king. Here, she’s my home—and my undoing. I lick the sweet-tasting sweat from her lips and push her knees toward her chest. She gasps, squeezing around me like a vise.

The snow melts beneath our heat, pooling around us…

Water fills Cambion’s mouth as he reaches for me. My arms refuse to move, but my muscles twitch. Morrigan stands over him and I see the horror of his fear in his golden eyes...

Blue eyes stare up at me as the sound of Eilish’s moans fill my ears. Pale fingers reach up to brush the hair from my face. The gesture is kind and out of place in the midst of our desperate race to reach inside one another’s souls.

Something breaks... the vision begins to shift between the study in Oronrel and the glade. Morrigan... she is weak... now’s my chance...

Glass shatters, and I stare into my own reflection. Scarlet liquid pools between my fingers. I pry a piece from the mirror and tear open my robes. I blink in the darkness of the study and see the rune Morrigan used to bespell me. I carve it out of my flesh, feeling the heat of my blood sizzle as I defy the magic. My reflection screams and claws at the surface, but I grit my teeth and dig a little deeper. A chunk of skin falls to the floor amid so much blood.

My hands slip and the mirror drops from the wall, breaking into a thousand tiny shards.

“I am… free.”

The magic of the Midnight Queen begins to fade, and I run for the door, glancing back at the droplets of blood that serve as a reminder of my path. I look at my wound and heal it with a simple charm.

I must find Cambion and the others, to warn them. The door eases open without so much as a squeak. My bare feet tap softly against the petrified wood. Holding my breath, I move quickly between each open archway until I reach the throne room. The doors open just barely wide enough to let me through.

Water... there’s water everywhere.

So, my vision wasn’t completely false. Is my brother still alive?

The doors open suddenly, and the servant who watched over Cambion leads a throng of soldiers toward me. “Halt! I’m your king!” I shout, but the soldiers don’t stop.

The man looks at me with narrowed eyes. I take a step closer, my mouth set in a line.

“Until Oronrel falls, I’m its leader!” I say with steely reserve. “The Unseelie Court hasn’t yet removed me from my position. It’s still my bloodright to—”

“I am the head of the Unseelie Court now,” retorts the man I thought was a servant.

I pull back because I don’t understand his words. What the fuck is he talking about?

His eyes flicker and his face begins to shift, to morph into someone or something else. The men under his lead begin to back away from him, their mouths dropping open in astonishment and horror.

As we watch, he morphs into a creature I haven’t seen in many years. The Cockatrice… at least, that’s what he appears to be. He must have come across dark magic over the years in order to alter his appearance in such a way.

I should have recognized him. The Cockatrice snaps his fingers and the Unseelie suddenly jump at attention, clearly under the thrall of the creature’s dark magic. They thrust me to the floor, using their weight to hold me down as I fight against them.

Morrigan’s dwindling magic still weakens me, so it’s a fight I can’t win. A heavy, blunt object strikes the back of my head and I see stars as my body goes limp.

I can hear the sound of movement and action as the Cockatrice summons the Unseelie Court to this room. But as I watch, it is only the women of noble blood who fill the seats around me as I lay limply on the obsidian floor. I don’t know where all the men have gone.

“Our great leader has defied the orders of one of our most holy figures,” the Cockatrice announces. “The Midnight Queen has long been a treasured ally and friend to this great kingdom.” A round of shocked inhalations and sounds of outrage fill the room. The Cockatrice continues: “Oronrel may suffer the loss of a blood-born king, but we gain the Midnight Queen’s allegiance in return. He’s a traitor to our people and a known affiliate of the war criminals who plot our demise.”

“Don’t listen to him. He lies!” I scream as I lift my head from the ground and am rewarded with intense dizziness and nausea. The Cockatrice must have afflicted me with magic, as I can’t imagine the blow over my head would leave me feeling such.

The Cockatrice speaks over my pleading. “We have all watched the Unseelie King’s sanity slip further and further away since the Great War that sent his brother into exile. Haven’t we already suffered at the hands of his father long enough, a man who succumbed readily to the darkness?” A round of cheers and claps ripple through the room. The Cockatrice then quiets all the women and continues his speech. “At the very least Theren, Son of Elioth, is guilty of treason for conspiring with the enemy!”

I watch as heads nod and voices sound in agreement. I feel so weak, so ill, there’s nothing I can do to force them to listen to reason, to ignore this insanity. Treason is punishable by death in Oronrel. Without me to protect the Unseelie people, there’s nothing stopping Variant and Morrigan. The Cockatrice might not be working for them, but his greed will serve their interests if he’s still devoted to Abedon.

The soldiers, who were once under my rule, pull me from the throne room as the court deliberates, and they toss me into a grimy cell in the dungeons far below the castle.

Once I’m imprisoned within my own stone cell and the guards have left me to my solitude, I punch the wall, feeling my knuckles tear and bleed. I broke free from Morrigan only to be imprisoned by my own fucking people. My head still throbs painfully as I flop onto the rickety cot. The place where I carved the rune from my flesh is already healed. I must regain my strength if I’m to escape.

The door to the dungeon swings open. I look up but I can see little in the darkness. But I can hear and the sound I hear grates against my nerves. The Cockatrice chuckles darkly.

“You are now an enemy of your own kingdom, Theren.”

“What do you get out of placing Morrigan in charge?”

“When the Midnight Queen is confident she will be victorious in her mission, I shall set Lord Abedon free,” the creature responds. “He will once again rule these realms and my kind will flourish, as we did under his reign, before he was exiled from this land. The Singularity must be completed; darkness must eclipse the light and burn it with chilling fire until there’s nothing left but ash and rubble.”