Page 27

Jules

The Second SoulTaker Invasion At The Eyrie

“She is fierce,” he says, his voice low and reverent. “She is my viyella. And I thank the Fates every damn day they gave her to me.”

The others go quiet, and I let the moment stretch, not quite able to speak. I never thought I'd feel like this.

Respected, seen, like I belong.

And finally, I admit the truth to myself.

Heaven help me.

But I wouldn't trade this wild, magical, chaotic life for anything.

And in that moment, I believe in Alaric. In his words. His truth.

I feel it.

Not just in the bond, but in the eyes of every person standing here. They don’t see a human woman out of place.

They see one of their own.

And I’m just me.

Wearing awesome armor, my man magicked for me. But still covered in soot and sweat. Still shaking inside from the terror and adrenaline.

I don't feel like a warrior or a ruler. Just a girl who stumbled into a fight and didn’t back down.

“I’m going to check on the children,” I murmur to Alaric.

“If you wait, I’ll come with you,” he offers, brushing a strand of hair off my face.

But he’s needed here.

“Don’t worry,” I murmur, pressing a kiss to his cheek, not because I have to, but because I can , and I want to . “I’ve got Shade with me.”

Alaric’s jaw tightens. He nods, but I feel the reluctance in every inch of him as his fingers trail down my arm before he lets me go.

My body aches, bruises blooming under my skin, but my heart— gods, my heart is so full it might burst.

“My lady? You wish to check on the children?” Shade materializes at my side, quiet as a shadow, but her eyes are alert, bright.

I slip my hand into hers and give it a squeeze. “Are you okay?”

She tilts her head, a small smirk playing on her lips. “I am a Demon, Lady Jules. Battle sings in my veins.”

And to be fair, she doesn’t look shaken at all. Even streaked with soot and blood, with a bit of someone else’s armor stuck in her braid, she radiates calm competence.

But she’s smiling. And for that, I’m grateful.

I’m still reeling, to be honest.

I mean, no one tells you that when you’re kidnapped to a new world, you’ll end up in an actual battle for your life.

I wonder for a second if those tae kwon do classes I took in grammar school helped at all. Decide probably not.

What happened today? Well, that was all instinct. Fear. Protectiveness.

Still shaking slightly, I make my way into the keep with Shade while Alaric and his boys make a plan for detoxing those bespelled by the SoulTakers.

It seems like a long and heady process, but even as I leave his side, I know he will handle it.

We head toward where I sent the children during the battle—inside the Eyrie for their protection.

I feel a twinge of comfort at the thought of those precious tiny lives—Christol with his gap-toothed grin, little Allanah who always wants to braid my hair, and tiny Thimble who’s obsessed with my Earth stories.

But the moment I open the doors and walk down the hall to the children’s reading room, the one I had set up right outside the library, that comfort dies.

Dauphiné stands in the center of the room. Her terrible beauty seems even more unhinged than it was the last time we met.

Her hair is wild, eyes glowing unnaturally bright, a strange necklace with some kind of amulet glows strangely with something smoky and dark. She keeps clutching at the thing, hissing when she does.

The torn and frayed gown looks like it was once intended for a wedding. Not a war. And her emotions are everywhere, going from anger to fury to despair.

The Eyrie seems to pick up on them, and I swear it’s like the keep is trying to calm her.

Rage drips from her voice like acid.

“You’ve ruined everything,” she hisses.

Behind her, the children lie still, bound in shimmering coils of magic. It’s like they’ve been drugged, or maybe magicked by some sleeping spell.

Above their tiny forms, daggers hang in midair, pointed down, trembling as if her magic might just drop them at any moment.

My heart stops.

“Mistress Dauphiné!” Shade gasps, skidding to a halt beside me as we burst into the quiet nursery chamber turned nightmare.

My heart drops.

The children— Christol, Thimble, little Allanah, Anchor, and Beffany —are slumped in a neat row on floor cushions, unmoving.

Suspended above their tiny, slumbering bodies are three blades, hovering midair, trembling slightly with magic.

At any moment, they could drop.

Dauphiné stands at the center of the room, arms raised like a conductor orchestrating death.

Her once-perfect gown is torn, her hair wild, eyes gleaming with feverish light.

“What are you doing?” I demand, stepping forward.

My voice is cold, sharp steel laced with fury. I can’t help it.

How dare she do this?

“You might fool the Lords,” she says, her voice curled in contempt, “trick them into thinking you're brave and strong. But I know better. You feel too much for those beneath you.”

“Is that what this is about? You think kindness is weakness?” I ask, my tone clipped.

“Dauphiné, let the children go. Whatever this is, whatever delusion you’re spiraling into, we can settle it between us.”

“I would never sully my hands with you,” she hisses. “A tavern wench from another world, dressed up in Dragon's silk. But he is the Lord of Illusion, right? Maybe you should take care what you choose to believe is true.”

That hits in a way I didn’t expect, but I push it aside for now.

“Look, whatever happened would you really harm children?” My voice rises, edged in horror and disbelief.

“Lady Jules,” Shade whispers, and her horror is palpable. But I don’t stay quiet, I simply can’t.

“These are your people, too! How can you justify this?”

The woman’s laugh is brittle. Cracked glass. And I know she’s having some sort of breakdown.

“You fool. I would risk the entire North for what I deserve. Alaric was supposed to be mine! We were betrothed in all but name. I was raised to rule at his side, born to bear the next line of Lords!”

“No,” I say softly, taking a step forward. “You weren’t meant for him. If you were, he would’ve chosen you. But he didn’t.”

Dauphiné’s face contorts, beautiful features twisted with fury and heartbreak.

“I loved him!” she shrieks, her voice fraying at the edges of sanity. “I waited. I endured. Year after year, I stood in silence, groomed like a prize mare by my father to one day stand at his side. And what did he do? He took lovers, meaningless consorts—while I rotted behind cold stone walls!”

“You were hurt,” I acknowledge, my voice steady even as my pulse thunders. “But you can’t force someone to want you. You just can’t.”

“He didn’t have to love me!” she snaps, the words like broken glass. “He only had to choose me! That was always the plan! I was his. And Idris promised—he promised me?—”

The name stills my breath. “Idris?” I echo, already dreading the answer.

“Oh yes,” she hisses, eyes gleaming with manic triumph.

“He came to me in dreams. Whispered sweet poison. Promised glory and vengeance and Alaric’s heart on a platter.

And I—I gave him everything. My will. My soul.

” Her hand flies to the locket at her throat, the cursed thing pulsing faintly with a sickly light.

“My oath is bound to this locket. I let him in.” The last words, she speaks them in a whisper that chills me.

“You—You’re in league with Idris?” I breathe, cold horror settling in my bones.

“I almost had him,” she spits. “I would have had him. Until you came. With your soft curves and your helpless little mortal eyes. He started to care for you. Gods, he saw you.”

She’s pacing now, steps erratic, breath ragged with hatred and something deeper.

Madness. Delusion. Both.

“I thought if I helped Idris— if I betrayed the Eyrie just enough, revealed the cracks in Alaric’s guard, let the SoulTakers bleed into the north —then I could ride in as savior.

Grant him my lands. He would owe me. He’d finally see what a queen I could be.

He’d beg me to stand beside him. And together, we’d rule. ”

My heart twists. Not just for Alaric, not just for me, but for what this woman was willing to become in the name of obsession.

“You’re crazy,” I whisper. “You talk about love, but everything you’ve done proves you never knew what love is.

Alaric would die for his people. And you—” my voice cracks as I look at the sleeping children, innocent bodies lying inches from death, “you’re threatening them to steal a crown that isn’t yours. ”

Her eyes flash.

“He was mine!” she howls. “Until you came. A mortal. A nobody!”

Shade shifts behind me, silent and watchful.

Her fingers flex around her staff, ready. I nod once, just enough to signal her— hold. Not yet.

Dauphiné draws herself up, regal even now, though madness ripples beneath her skin like a second soul.

“If I cannot have Alaric,” she snarls, “then I will have what power remains. I will have the crown. Fetch it, human. Or I will spill these brats’ peasant blood all over Lord Alaric’s beloved stones.”

Her voice is low and serpentine, sticky with rage and venom. Over the children’s heads, the blades tremble— hovering —waiting to fall.

And for the first time, I realize she’s willing to do it.

I feel the zareth hum violently inside me.

And Alaric’s terror flares across our bond like a thunderclap.

He’s coming. But I may not have time to wait.

Not if I want to save them.

Dauphiné gestures, and the knives above the children tremble downward, glinting in the soft glow of the enchanted sconces.

My stomach flips, fury and fear roiling inside me like a storm.

I need to buy some time.

“You betrayed him,” I say softly. “You showed the SoulTakers how to get past his guard, endangered the entire Eyrie, all to feed your obsession.”

“I sacrificed for love!” she cries.

“No. You sacrificed for power. Love doesn’t look like this.”

The spell around the children shimmers.

Flickers.

Her control is slipping.

She’s unraveling.

I just need a few more seconds.

“Shade,” I say quietly. “You ready?”

Her eyes flash. “Always.”

Dauphiné tilts her head, suspicion creasing her brow. “What are you?—”

“Stalling,” I whisper.

And then—I don’t think.

I just move.

Because he would.

Alaric, with fire in his blood and thunder in his voice. He’d charge headfirst into danger to protect what’s his.

What’s sacred. What’s right.

And those children on the floor? With their small, sleeping bodies and their lives balanced beneath glinting blades?

They’re sacred to me now.

This place— Nightfall —isn’t just a strange realm I was dragged into anymore.

It’s my home.

These are my people.

And I will not let them bleed because someone like Dauphiné can’t handle rejection.

I take a step forward. Then another.

She snarls something. I don’t hear it.

Because all I can hear is the rush of blood in my ears, the hum of magic vibrating in my skin, the roaring in my chest that sounds an awful lot like my name in Alaric’s voice.

Myrrin? What is it, my viyella?

The zareth pulses, and I know he can feel me. But he’s too far.

I have to do this.

And I can do this because Alaric believes in me. He gives me strength. And now it’s my turn to prove I deserve it.

My hand goes to my side where that small blade I was gifted from the battlefield rests, still warm from the forge-fire enchantment Alaric placed on it.

My fingers close around the hilt. My knees bend.

Shade is behind me, ready.

I don’t need to look.

I feel her.

A shield at my back, fierce and sure.

This is it.

My heart is pounding, my muscles shaking, but my purpose has never been clearer.

I don’t know if I’ll survive this. If she’ll strike before I can act. If the spell will snap and the blades will fall.

But I do know one thing.

I have to try.

Because I want to be the kind of woman who stands her ground.

Because I want to be worthy of the lord that chose me.

Because I want to be someone my mate can be proud of.

Because I refuse to let innocent children die.

And if this is how I go out?

Then I’ll go out fighting.

For them. For him. For us.