Page 49

49

Reyla

“ A ct as if we don’t care that she escaped,” Lore told Lord Briscalar. “No, pretend we know where she is and that she’ll soon be locked up—this time with double the wards.” His gaze sought mine. “We’ll hold court as usual.”

“Very well.” Briscalar bowed but paused before opening the door to the hall. “News has arrived about High Lord Zeiger.”

Lore lifted his eyebrows.

“Sadly, his body was found outside the wall. It’s believed the borgons killed him during their attack.”

“I see,” Lore said with a frown. “Please announce his passing to the court and see that his estate is managed until his family can be notified.”

“Very well, my king. I also wish to report that I've accommodated everyone's needs.”

“Well done. Tell me more.”

Briscalar’s lips trembled, and his face filled with color at the praise. “All displaced have temporary shelter, and fine goods have smoothed whatever uncertainty that might’ve lingered among those who were…less eager to assist.”

“Fine goods from our coffers, I assume,” Lore said dryly.

“Where else? Tithes will replace them in a short time. The city is rebuilding faster than I’d dared hope. And thankfully, none of our patrols beyond the wall have seen a single borgon.”

Lore nodded. “Good. Stretch the patrols wider. I want double the coverage across the forest side of the city. If anyone sees even a hint of a borgon, I want to hear about it right away.”

“And you shall.”

“Anything else?” Lore asked and the lord shook his head. “Do attend us in the throne room after we arrive.”

“As you wish, my king.” After bowing again, Briscalar left.

We bathed and dressed to impress.

The deep lavender fabric felt cool under my fingers as I adjusted the dress Lore had chosen for me to wear to the throne room. Its simplicity complemented the intricate embroidery along the neckline and made it shimmer like starlight. Every thread seemed alive, humming with magic.

Across the room, Lore stood in front of a gilded mirror, smoothing his formal black tunic. The collar framed his sharp jawline, and the silver detailing on his cuffs caught the early sunlight cutting through the windows. His was a dangerous kind of elegance, and his self-confidence only made me adore him even more.

“How do I look?” I asked, spinning to let the fabric fan out before settling again.

Lore turned, his gaze running over me, and I felt the heat of it more vividly than any compliment. His expression softened, though a spark of mischief flickered in his eyes. “If we're trying to outshine the court today, you’ve thoroughly succeeded.”

I raised a brow. “We do look good. It's not too much?” The last thing I wanted to do was flaunt that we were doing well when so many of our people were not.

“They will take heart in seeing us wearing our finest.” Stepping closer, he entwined our fingers. “It's important to maintain the facade.”

Before I could reply, a loud knock at the outer door snagged our attention. We went to the sitting area and called out for whoever it was to enter.

One of the castle guards stepped in, metal glinting where sunlight caught his armor. He bowed low. “Your Majesties, the court has assembled.”

Lore pressed a kiss to my temple and nodded to the guard. “Lead the way.”

Our guards clustered around us as we took the stairs down to the first level, their magic and weapons ready to deploy. As we approached the throne room, those on either side of the heavy double doors swept them open.

“Rise for their majesties, King Lorick and Queen Reyla,” the herald called out from inside.

Whispers within the chamber came to an abrupt halt, followed by the rustle of clothing. As we strode down the red-carpeted aisle, the high lords and ladies and lessers alike, draped in their best, rose from their seats on either side of us. Their gazes shot between Lore and me, and I suspected they were trying to guess how we were holding up after the recent events. The news must’ve spread quickly.

Lore had been right; it was good to maintain the facade.

We climbed the dais and took our places on our thrones.

“Lord Briscalar,” Lore called out. “Please come forward. ”

The lord strode down the red carpet and out into the center of the large open area. He bowed deeply then straightened, his hands linking behind his back.

“I wish to commend you for all you’ve done for this court and our people,” Lore said.

“Hear, hear,” someone called out, followed by cries of approval from many of those watching.

“No one could represent us better,” I said once their voices had died down. Lore and I had talked about this before leaving, trying to decide how best to reward Lord Briscalar for all he’d done.

“Please approach us. We’re bestowing highest lord status on you today.”

Zeiger’s position. No one deserved it more than my friend.

Lore’s gaze swept the room. “Court, please remain standing.”

Lord Briscalar walked up the stairs and stopped in front of us, dropping to one knee. “My queen.” His voice shook. “My king!”

Lore and I linked hands, each of us channeling a bit of our power forward to wrap around Briscalar.

His face darkened. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Nothing is needed, Highest Lord Briscalar,” I said with a smile. “Rise as the herald presents you to our court.

“Hail, Highest Lord Briscalar,” the herald intoned.

Cheers echoed in the room.

“Thank you, my queen. My king.” After bowing again, Briscalar strutted from the dais and back along the aisle, moving to stand beside Talvon again.

We’d strategized as we bathed and dressed, and decided the best way to handle Erisandra’s escape was to act as if we weren’t concerned about it at all.

“This court is now in session.” Lore waved for the first supplicant to be brought forward .

All heads swiveled toward the entrance as a woman entered. Her hair was pulled back in a cascade of intricate braids that framed her regal features, and she held her head high, daring anyone to challenge her. The fabric of her gown shimmered in the low light, rich hues of deep blue and gold highlighting the sharp angles of her face. She strode down the aisle and came to a stop at the end.

Before she could speak, the chamber doors banged open behind her, crashing against the stone walls.

Gasps whipped through the room like flames on dry leaves.

The woman peered back and shrieked, staggering sideways, nearly falling over a man seated nearby.

Erisandra staggered into the throne room, her wild appearance catching the attention of everyone present. Her once-pristine gown hung in tatters, exposing bruised skin smeared with dirt. Her hair draped around her shoulders in thick knots. Gone was the woman who'd glared at me with snide dignity.

When she reached the end of the aisle and the open area before the dais, her head snapped up. The feral gleam in her eyes forced the air from my lungs.

Lore stiffened, his inhalation loud in the looming silence. “What in all the fates…”

With a scream, Erisandra barreled across the open area.

Cries surged among the lords and ladies, some leaning back as if her madness might harm them, others craning their necks to make sure they didn’t miss any of the latest scandal.

She came to a stop several feet from the steps, swaying as she focused on Lore.

“You will not win.” Her voice cracked, but its strange cadence rattled through the room. “There is not enough time, do you hear?” A shrieking laugh tore from her throat, clawing across my goose-pebbled skin .

Lore left his throne and stepped down from the dais. I followed close behind.

“Mother,” he said carefully, stopping a few feet away from her. He stared at her face, maybe searching for the woman he'd adored all his life. “What happened?”

Her head snapped back as though struck, then forward again, and she caught both him and me in her penetrating gaze. “Escaped. Had to, son. I had to tell you—” She screeched, ripping at what remained of her gown, smacking her limbs.

Was this some sort of…warning for us?

The air snapped, and her voice deepened to a guttural snarl. “You cannot hold me . No one can.”

There was something very wrong here, and not only in her appearance and the rabid way she behaved.

I drew both daggers, the scrape of steel against scabbard comforting, and angled my body between her and Lore.

“Guards,” I said, my voice shaking. “Attend us.”

Weapons hissed through the air as the soldiers closed in, their hands pulsing with summoned magic.

Erisandra's scream tore through the room, the sound sharp, jagged, and ending in a bird-like caw. It bored into me like shards of broken glass. Her body pitched forward as magic crackled in wild arcs around her. Everyone in the throne room seemed to hold their breath.

She dropped to the ground and writhed, her skin flashing to black feathers and back again until she morphed into a…crow.

The one who’d tried to keep me from climbing across the castle wall to reach Merrick?

A blink and she was Erisandra—or not Erisandra—again, rising to her feet with a violent surge.

Her hands snapped out, paler than I remembered, and magic blasted toward me with a force that made the room bow outward .

Calling shadows to protect me, I flung my blades at her. But with a lift of her hand, she deflected them, sending them toward the outer walls, where they impaled themselves to the hilt.

The guards couldn’t move fast enough. Lore’s magic couldn’t encase her fast enough.

And my shadows…

They dropped away from me and sidled across the marble tiles toward her .

Her glare pinned me in place, and the dark magic she hurled at me again twisted through the air, seeking me with a hunger that gnawed on my bones.

I called more power and whipped it to shadows that coiled up from the floor in a fluid dance to meet her spell.

Lore’s elemental magic roared. Heat pressed against my side as flames licked up his forearms.

Our power surged out as one. Where my shadows devoured her spell like ink flooding water, his flames burned so white they scorched the air itself. This wasn’t planned. We didn’t need words or even a shared glance to know what we must do. Our magic fused and snapped between us in a wall unlike anything I'd seen or heard of before.

The collision was blinding. Shadows and flame tangled in a brilliant knot, battering back her attack in an unyielding tide. The room darkened and brightened in waves, power surging between us in a vicious current. Magic hummed through my veins as I sent more to join Lore’s.

Together, our power didn’t simply push her magic back. It shredded it, tearing it apart until it hissed and vanished.

Erisandra staggered under the backlash, and her shriek ripped through the room again, piercing my ears. Her face flickered, her features melting before knitting themselves back together again. What replaced them wasn’t a crow or any version of the woman I knew. This face was too flawless, its angles unnatural, its beauty unsettling in its perfection. The air grew thick with the scent of charred wood.

Someone in the audience gasped before her tremulous voice rang out, full of terrified recognition. “It’s the wizard, Prager .”

The name dropped through the room like a boulder hitting a still pond, and the ripple it made froze every person watching. I'd heard the name before. This powerful wizard had attacked Tempest, and my friend barely escaped with her life.

“She’s possessed the queen mother,” someone hissed.

For how long? Perhaps for years.

Erisandra—now Prager—turned with an eerie grace, her teeth exposed in a grin that was much too sharp. Her hand rose, and before anyone could act, magic lashed outward.

The high lady who'd spoken clawed at her throat. Blood gushed through her fingers and when her eyes rolled back and her hands dropped away, her head toppled, falling from her shoulders. Like an abandoned puppet, her body crumpled to the floor near her head.

Screams erupted from the crowd.

The high lady's blood pooled across the floor, the metallic tang of it soaking the air. Lords and ladies stumbled from their seats in a mad scramble to escape the throne room.

Prager’s eerie grin never faltered.

Lore prowled forward, all predator as he closed the distance between them. I rushed along with him, determined to protect him in any way I could.

“Get out of my mother, Wizard,” he snarled. “Or I’ll drag you out myself and leave nothing of you behind.”

Prager undulated Erisandra’s head in the hypnotic dance of a serpent. “Oh, how noble,” she sneered, her borrowed voice dripping with sarcasm. “Fused once more, are you? Such a novelty. You won’t get any farther.”

“Watch and see,” I bellowed, yanking up my skirt and pulling a small blade from the sheath on my thigh. I brandished it in her face. “We’re breaking the curse. Breaking it!”

Prager tipped her head back and cackled.

“Take her. Bind her.” Rage flashed in Lore’s eyes as our guards tightened around the wizard, magic pulsing from their fingertips. I stepped closer to Lore, coiling my shadows around us both.

Lord Briscalar rushed over from the side of the room, stopping behind us, his voice aquiver. “Majesties,” he hissed. “Prager is…” He gagged and cupped his throat, his wild eyes spiraling. “An ancient wizard. She can?—”

Prager’s arm jerked toward him. Magic seared the space between them, a spear of light meant to silence him as easily as it had the high lady. I threw my shadows up to protect him while Lore's icy blades crashed against Prager's chest.

Gasping and with his arms flinging outward, Briscalar backed away. “She?—”

“Out,” Lore barked, his eyes never leaving the wizard. “Get out now. All of you!”

Briscalar hesitated, but fear made him obey. With one last look at me, he retreated through the door behind the thrones in a panicked rush.

What was left of our court raced through the doors at the other end of the hall, and the panels boomed closed behind them, leaving us alone with a wizard seeking vengeance.

Prager’s face rippled again, the perfect symmetry of her features wobbling as if she was fighting against something internal.

Erisandra's features reemerged slowly, her lips forming strange, soundless words before she started choking. Her hands clawed at her throat as if she was trying to rip the wizard from deep inside her.

When she spoke again, she mangled the words, spitting them out broken and wet. “Find…the three. Split into… three .” Blood spilled thick and dark over her lips, gushing across her chin and the front of her gown as she swayed. “Before… Before it’s too late. Son. Love you…”

She convulsed, her legs buckling as she collapsed in on herself. As she tumbled to the floor, landing hard on her knees, Prager snapped back into place, taking over the queen mother’s body.

She lifted her head, her face radiating hatred. “It will not matter, precious ,” she said with a sneer.

Precious…

The old woman at Lydel harbor who’d been desperate to buy Farris.

The drunk at Evergorne pier who’d staggered close to me. He’d broken a bottle and hurt me.

Now she was possessing the queen mother.

“You cannot stop me,” she shouted. “The curse will not waver. It will soon drown you both.”

Erisandra’s fingers spasmed, and her hands jerked up. She clawed at her chest. Her face rippled again, flickering between the two identities. Finally, her features softened, and her wide, tear-filled eyes locked onto Lore with a desperation that made my lungs seize.

“I love you—” she croaked, her voice splintering with pain. “I didn’t—It wasn’t me!” Her words gurgled, choked off. Her body shook violently. Prager’s hold was tightening like wire around her throat.

“Mother. Fight it,” Lore begged. His face filled with steel, but the way his chest jerked in and out told me how much seeing his mother like this gutted him.

Erisandra's hands smacked into her neck, her nails raking grooves in her skin as if she was trying to rip herself free from Prager’s grip.

I stepped closer, unsure whether I should shield her or us, but Lore caught my arm, holding me back.

Her lips bled as she forced them apart, shoving out each word in torturous pain. “Under— throne —find what was…hidden.” The words sputtered, and she gagged, spewing blood onto the floor between us.

“I’ll kill it.” The assassin I remembered was alive and thriving in Lore’s every word. “I’ll tear it out of you, Mother, piece by piece. I promise.”

Prager surged back, her voice cutting through the air in a sly, twisted way. “You think you’re strong enough to face me this time, boy?”

This time?

When he’d run away as a boy and stumbled upon a cottage in the woods…

My memory reminded me of Erisandra slinking into the forest, peering back as if she hoped not to be seen, perhaps knowing I was watching.

Prager all this time.

Precious…

This wizard had been following me, determined to make sure I didn’t break the curse.

Erisandra’s features contorted, her gorgeous face morphing into something monstrous. Her mouth curled while Prager took over her throat and spewed venom. “No savior now.” Peering around, she huffed out a gloated laugh. “I will destroy you like I did every single male of your bloodline.” Her head snapped back, her gaze locking on us. “Even a willing bride cannot stop me.”

“Don’t do this,” Lore cried.

Prager’s swollen, bleeding neck quivered, and she chanted in a singsong voice. “Not together. Not apart. You’re weak. You’ll break just like they all did before you. Poor little King Lorick. I’ll enjoy slicing your world apart.”

Her body convulsed again, her limbs twitching. With a sickening snap of her neck, blue-green light surged from her chest, shooting from her body in bolts of lightning. The magic flipped around and drove back inward.

Erisandra’s face wavered into view, and she gasped, her hands flying to her belly as the light hit inside her and spread like poison.

With another push, Prager consumed her once more.

“Hold strong, Mother. I’ll destroy it.” Lore moved faster than I could process, closing the gap between himself and Prager, the assassin and the noble king perfectly intertwined. His fists curled, and when he raised his hands, the air answered his call. The marble beneath our feet quaked, shards of it splintering up, joining the torrent of energy gathering around him.

“Lore.” I couldn't reach him through the crackling charge of his magic.

“Get out of her,” he snarled, his voice jagged with horror and rage. But layered beneath it, I could hear the anguish threatening to undo him.

This was the mother he’d adored when he was a child. Somewhere, buried beneath the parasitic force, Erisandra had remained. If I knew my Lore, he'd die to save her.

Prager laughed with Erisandra's mouth in a sound terrifying enough to curdle the air. “Tell me, High King of Evergorne, how does it feel to be powerless ? ”

“Why?” I shrieked. “Tell us why you’re doing this.”

Lore bent low, punching his fist into the shattered floor. Fire erupted from the point of impact, veins of molten flame streaking outward in a searing web. The heat was immense, the flames too bright, but my shadows instinctively coiled around me, dulling the intensity. The fire whipped toward Prager, but it split in two, surging around her without touching.

At his command, vines writhed up from the cracks beneath Prager’s feet. They snapped out, coiling around her wrists, her legs, her waist. She shrieked, the sound less human and more feral as the vines dragged her forward, forcing her to her knees in front of Lore.

His eyes shimmered with agony.

“Mother—” his voice broke, and that single word wrenched through me.

Something flickered in Erisandra's eyes. Her lips trembled, tears spilling over her sunken cheeks.

“Lorick,” she whispered in such a loving way before her face wrenched into the wizard’s again. “Weak little boy, drowning in useless sentimentality. I will feast on it as I did with all the others. Now you know what it feels like to be an object owned. I split you all. Split everything.” Her cackle rang out. “Cursed the same as the rest. Cursed to endure what it feels like to be divided and incomplete and never fully loved for all facets of who you might be. Each of you has been so precious . So tasty.”

Only one person in my past had sneered that I was “tasty,” and my friends and I had killed him. I would destroy this being with my bare hands if I had to.

Lore’s expression fractured, the rage tipping into something darker. His features sharpened, and the assassin surfaced fully.

“No,” he hissed. The fire and vines obeyed his command, bending and twisting, living extensions of this man I would willingly die for. “I am loved for all I was and all I am.”

“You won’t get any farther,” she barked out.

“I will! Weakness isn't sentimental. That would be letting a parasite like you think it still holds a leash on my soul.”

The room exploded with sound and force. Thunderous currents rippled outward as Lore drew not only the fire, the vines, and the air into his command, but the marble floor began to bend itself toward him as well. Even the foundation of the room couldn’t resist. Shards of stone lifted into the air, spiraling around him in a crackling sphere of elemental energy.

Erisandra's body contorted as the vines tightened around her throat.

Lore’s shoulders rolled. Even from where I stood, I could feel his torment. He flung everything at Prager, but like before, it slithered around her, leaving her untouched except by the vines.

Then, even they snapped away.

She straightened, her eyes shining with feverish joy.

“She’s still in there,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I can't get her out.”

“Oh yes, you can, my precious,” Prager said with a coy whine. “Try a little harder, why don’t you?”

“Three…” Erisandra croaked. “Find the three!”

Prager's voice snapped through, coming out of Erisandra’s mouth. “Enough. I will not allow you to say anything more.”

A crow surged up out of the queen mother’s body and with a pop, it disappeared from the throne room, leaving only the taint of wood smoke behind.

Lore's mother crumpled forward, her body collapsing in a heap on the blood-drenched floor. Her tangled hair splayed across the marble in a ring around her lifeless head.

After one shuddering breath, her chest stopped moving .

Lore rushed over and dropped down beside her, lifting her wrist before gently resting it on the carpet.

“Prager killed her rather than let her speak,” I said, tears burning down my cheeks.

“Coward,” Lore hissed, his head snapping up. His flame-bright eyes pinned me in place before flicking back to the body. Now, he was colder. Methodical. The hunter had taken over. “I vow to destroy her.” He rose to his feet and tugged me into his arms, holding me while he shook. “I will destroy her. This I vow!”

“Love, I’m here, and I’ll help you. Together.”

He stared into my eyes and nodded.

“A funeral pyre,” he said, his body shaking with fury and rage. “We will care for her body and then…” His grim gaze met mine. “We will find the three my mother died to tell us about.”