Queen of Blood and Vengeance (Secrets of the Faerie Crown #4)

2. Arran

2

ARRAN

The entire world shifted beneath our feet.

I grabbed for Veyka instinctively, but she held her ground even as the stones of the bridge shook. My fingers closed around her arm, feeling the jolt of pain where I touched her freshly inked Talisman as sharply as if it were my own. But I did not let her go—could not. Not with the castle behind us shaking on its foundations, the lake splashing up over the parapets.

“Can you feel it too?” Veyka shouted.

Of course I can feel it , my beast growled through the bond. But the concern ebbing through our connection was not for me. Veyka’s eyes were still fixed on Gwen, through the portal rift Veyka had opened. The shining white spiral edges wobbled and pulsed, but it was impossible to tell if it was the quaking ground or the nature of this new extension of Veyka’s power.

Gwen dropped into a crouch, one hand splayed for balance on the goldstone floor. She could feel it in Baylaur.

The entire continent was shaking.

Then, just as suddenly as it had started, the world around us stilled. It took several heartbeats to realize it, with the waves still gnawing at the stone around us, our bodies still trying to compensate for the movement that was no longer there.

Veyka’s arm slipped from my hold. Gwen rose cautiously to stand.

The ground remained steady for a full minute, but our reality was no more stable.

We did not have time to contemplate what could have possibly caused the entire continent of Annwyn to shake as if unmoored from the earth itself.

Gwen said again, a slight tremor at the edge of her voice— “Baylaur has fallen.”

Even as my heart struggled to comprehend the words, my mind understood. The strategist within me began to calculate the meaning, this new shifting of weight within the war. Was there time to muster the terrestrial forces from Wolf Bay? If the city was truly lost, then it was time to regroup and save our soldiers for a battlefield of our choosing.

The thoughts echoed through my mind simultaneously, crashing together and forming new, more nuanced plans. Until all of them coalesced into one single, coherent realization.

The war had begun.

A moment was all I could give to my mate, frozen at my side, gripping her weapons hard enough that her knuckles matched her moon-white hair. It was not enough.

Veyka’s face contorted with disbelief, her pale brows knitted tight together, her lips parted in a silent cry of protest. I needed to grab her to me, to reassure her that this was not her fault, to marvel at this new, magnificent feat of power. But I could do none of that.

That was not what she needed from me now.

I turned back to Gwen. “Are there survivors?”

Gwen’s eyes darted between me and Veyka, then back the way she’d come in her dark lioness form moments earlier. I listened to the screams in the distance only enough to calculate their proximity. There was no space for sympathy or sadness in battle.

Gwen’s gaze was steady as it connected with mine, a lieutenant reporting to her general. A dance we’d done dozens of times. “In the old palace,” she said. “We were able to barricade a small contingent of females there.”

They’d figured out that the succubus only came for males. Thank the Ancestors. But that information did not feel like a blessing, not now. It only spoke to the depth of the destruction that they’d been able to deduce as much.

“Males?”

Her head jerked to the side. “Some. We separated them into rooms in groups of two and three, to try and contain those taken by the darkness. But it all broke down two nights ago.”

And in those two nights, Gwen had not seen a moment of rest. I could see it in the thick lines around her amber eyes. We’d fought longer than that before, but she’d never been in command. The female that stared back at me through the shining spiral rift was not the one we’d left behind in Baylaur months before.

“What about the city?” Veyka rasped.

She did not—or could not—disguise the agony in her words.

Gwen did not flinch as she met Veyka’s gaze. “Gone.”

The edges of the spiral flashed a blinding white, but did not falter. Veyka remained still, weapons raised, her only movement the blinking of her eyes as she fought back tears. She may be young, inexperienced with war. But she realized that there was no time for those personal indulgences now.

Later, I would hold her. We would grieve for our city, our people.

But tonight, we would fight.

“Can you go for help?” I asked, my ears honing in on the sounds of revelry leaking from the hall of Eilean Gayl behind us. Even well gone to drink, the terrestrials within would constitute a considerable fighting force. One that had already faced the succubus.

Veyka shook her head. “Not while holding this open.”

I took a step closer to the rift. It was a rift, I felt certain. Not a mere window but a passageway through the void. A new depth of Veyka’s power; one that could change this war.

But all of that would be explored later. Now, she had to hold the rift open.

“I’ll go.” Every second was precious, but I did not shift. Not before issuing a final command to the two headstrong, desperate females. “Wait here. The terrestrials will need a guide to reach the survivors.” And then to Veyka, “Do not go through that rift.”

Not a command but an entreaty. I was begging her to remember the promise we’d made, never to be parted again. If Veyka went through the rift, if it sealed behind her, I would be powerless to help her.

I could feel the maelstrom of Veyka’s emotions through the bond. But it was Gwen who answered. “If they come, she will close it.”

I waited for the argument.

But Veyka jerked her chin down. Agreement.

I held her gaze for a heartbeat more, then I shifted.