Queen of Stars and Shadows (Dark Fae Guardian #3)

Zyren

Chapter Thirteen

Zyren

I t’s hours after my capture before I finally get an opportunity to escape.

I don’t even think of trying until they take us into the prison ward below the barracks. Even I can’t fight off a hundred warriors. After I’m placed in a cell, I watch as they carry Sarielle’s unconscious body down a corridor in the opposite direction. Fury stirs in my core at their treatment of her—punching an innocent woman in the face is unconscionable.

Of course, according to my brother, she’s far from innocent.

But I still don’t think it’s right.

After that, I spend far too long debating when I should make my escape. I should use my magic to break open the lock and slip out, taking out the handful of guards I’d seen at the entrance. But I’d seen them place other people in nearby cells, women and men that look terrified. I can’t just leave them here while I walk out.

As I wait, pacing and turning over options in my mind, I hear two of them talking from a few cells down. They speak of the nightmares who had stolen them from their homes at night, of the horror of watching others being eaten while they survived. My mood grows blacker by the minute.

Avonia told me the nightmares obeyed her. If that was the case, why had these people been abducted and nearly turned into a meal? My brother trusts her. But I haven’t decided yet if I do. Right now, I know I need to get back to them, and not empty-handed. I need to bring Sarielle with me. She’s the key to ending this war and bringing peace to both of our realms.

The clatter of metal echoing down the corridor breaks my thoughts. I hear the voices of the guards moving down the corridor, and they turn toward where they’d taken Sarielle and her friend. A couple minutes later I hear footsteps coming back, and this time there’s a third set of them. They’ve taken someone out of their cell. And even though I can’t see much in the darkness, as they pass by, I know it’s Sarielle. I can feel her magic, that slow spin of nightmare and shadow within her. That magic that calls to mine, like we’re connected.

That magic that makes my blood pulse and my head spin as if enchanted by a song.

I let out a low growl. I’m quite certain I shouldn’t be feeling that way about my enemy.

I begin to pace in my cell again, trying to decide my next move. I can’t leave here without Sarielle, and now I’ve wasted my chance lamenting the fate of my cellmates. Do I wait for her to come back? What if she doesn’t?

An hour passes, and I’m about out of patience when I hear a sound. Or rather, many sounds, coming from the surface.

A cacophony of screams and shrieks, most certainly not human. Trumpets, the same as the warriors who brought us here. But also another set, these trumpets unfamiliar to me.

Someone is attacking the royal palace of Eldare.

I can’t wait any longer. I have to get out of this cell and hope I can find Sarielle in the midst of the chaos. Calling my magic, I break the lock and step out into the corridor. Surprised murmurs come from the people in the cells nearby. After a moment’s debate, I stride to their cells and break the locks there also.

“Follow me,” I say gruffly. “But once we get outside the barracks, you’re on your own.”

They nod, eyes wide and fearful, and do as they’re told.

I move down the corridor until it intersects with the other one and pause. Suppressing a growl, I go straight instead of heading right toward the exit. The cells on that end of the corridor are all empty. I could have sworn that Sarielle’s friend was placed down that row of cells, but she’s not there.

Moving back to the junction in corridors, I turn and move swiftly toward the exit, not overly concerned about the guards stationed by the stairs to the surface. The others fall in line behind me, they apparently hadn’t wanted to risk heading out on their own, not that I can blame them. But when we reach the end of the shorter corridor, the guards aren’t there. Apparently, the attack above has drawn them from their posts, to assist or to flee.

I jog up the stone steps into the barracks above. Men and women are running back and forth, putting on battle leathers, strapping swords to their sides. I hear the sharp neighing of several horses from what must be the stable not far off. Remembering how we’d been brought in, I turn right and head down the hallway, my cellmates following on my heels.

“Hey!” yells one of the warriors, rushing toward us from down the hall.

My shadows and my ravens form around me, a big black cloud that fills the width of the wide stone passageway. The eyes of the warrior grow huge and he begins to back up, stammering inanely before turning to run. I don’t turn to look behind to see if my followers are still following, or if they, too, have fled in terror. I press on, jogging through the melee toward the exit.

I don’t encounter further resistance, everyone else is too busy rushing to the palace’s defense to care who we are and if we’re escaping. Before too long, I come to a wide wooden door that leads to the outside. I shove it open and night air flows in around me. I may not have been beneath the earth for very long, but I still feel a rush of relief to be back outside again.

I turn to the others. “I’d go north if I were you. It sounds like the attack is coming from south of here. Don’t trust the roads, stay within the forest.”

One of the women who looks barely out of girlhood turns to look up at me. “You’re not coming?”

“I have business to attend to here.” Without another word, I jog off in the opposite direction, going south around the barracks’ wall.

It doesn’t take long to skirt the wall and come around to the main entrance, the one that faces the palace in the distance. There’s a wide field that separates the two, and warriors flood it, making haste toward the palace and the attacking army. Here beneath the sky, I can hear the sounds of battle all the more acutely. The shrieks of the nightmares as they circle the palace, diving down occasionally to pluck an unlucky victim from the courtyard. Steel on steel. And a repetitive, resounding thud as the attackers work on taking down the palace gates with a battering ram.

The attacking army has a catapult as well, launching small flaming missiles into the palace grounds. Already, smoke fills the air, and flames can be seen taking hold here and there. It looks like a hellscape, and it can’t have been more than a quarter hour since the attack began. It’s abundantly clear that Eldare is not accustomed to hostility. At this rate, the palace will have fallen to the invaders before dawn breaks.

But none of that is my concern. I’m only worried about finding Sarielle and returning to my brother. We need to get back to Valaron.

The most likely place they would have taken her is the palace, which of course is the worst possible place to be right now. After another few moments to scan the scene before me and assess my plan, I run toward the palace, following the line of warriors heading that way. I’m halfway across the field when I feel a strange sensation. My magic stirs within me, my shadows roiling, and there’s a tug as if something is pulling me backward. As if I am tethered to something—or someone.

I halt and move out of the path of the warriors heading toward the palace. “That way!” someone yells at me, pointing sharply, but I ignore them. My eyes scan the distance between me and the barracks. Then, I see her standing there. Sarielle . In the shadows beneath a cluster of trees outside the wall. My heart crawls toward my throat. She’s clearly waiting for me.

Why do I feel a connection to this person I barely know, this woman who has betrayed my family and my realm?

As if entranced, I walk slowly toward her. I’d been looking for her just moments before, but now that she’d found me , something within me resists. I hear my brother’s words ringing through my head, telling me all the terrible things she’d done, and why it’s so important that we capture her. But another, much stronger part of me is drawn toward her like the moon pulls the tides.

I’m not sure I could stay away from her if I tried.

And then I am standing before her in the shadows. A beam of moonlight catches the golden glow of her eyes, and they spark against the darkness. Her silvery-lavender hair cascades down her back, and I can feel that stir of magic within her, that dark magic that matches my own. We are the same, she and I, somehow. I can feel it, even as my head tells me that it is very wrong.

“Zyren,” she whispers. “I’m so glad you’re okay.” Even her voice is intoxicating, like a night flower, sweet and dark at the same time. And oddly familiar. The way she says my name, like she’s said it a thousand times.

“How did you escape?” I ask, suddenly feeling unsure of my own voice.

She shrugs. “The king and queen let me go.”

“Just like that? Do you bewitch everyone you meet?”

Sarielle’s eyes widen slightly in surprise. She takes a step closer to me, dangerously close now. I can smell the scent of her hair, her skin. Can taste her magic on the tip of my tongue. “Are you saying you find me bewitching?”

“No.” The words come too quickly, too defensive, and I can hear the lie in them. “Just that you must be, to have deceived so many. To have led Valaron into chaos.”

A frown tugs at her pink lips. “Is that what they told you?” Her voice breaks slightly.

When I don’t answer, she continues. “Listen to me, Zyren. Your brother is controlled by Avonia. He died and she used necromancy to bring him back. Anything he tells you is only what she wants you to hear. It’s not that he wants to lie to you, but he has no choice. You have to believe me.”

“Funny.” I cross my arms over my chest. “That’s exactly what they told me about you. Master of lies and deception. A traitor and a thief.”

She stares at me for a long moment before speaking. “And what does your heart tell you?”

I stiffen. It’s as if she’s reached into my head and plucked the most delicate string, the most vulnerable part of me. Because that’s exactly what I’ve been battling with from the moment I felt that zing of connection across the field. There may be a battle raging beyond the palace walls, but the real fight is the one going on inside me in this moment.

“My heart can’t be trusted,” I say, my throat thick with emotion.

As if I have no control over my own body, my hand reaches out and strokes a strand of her hair, curling it around my finger. Just that tiny touch sends an electric pulse between us. I know it was the wrong move, because instantly I need more . I slide my fingers further into her hair, my palm cupping the back of her head, my thumb stroking her cheekbone. Sarielle sighs and turns her face into my touch, her eyelashes fluttering and casting shadows across her face.

And it’s still not enough. My other hand slides around the small of her back, pulling her into me. I lean my forehead against hers, inhaling the warmth of her. She’s like oxygen, life essence, something so essential I can’t be without it. Her hips brush into me and she lets out a slight murmur, pressing herself against my body as if she needs me just as much. Our magic merges and mingles, sliding around us like deep, dark velvet.

I rotate my face until my lips hover over hers. She lets out an expectant rush of breath, and my hand that’s woven into her hair tightens. I taste her magic on the air between us, and then, tentatively, I taste it on her lips. A storm moves between us, darkness and light and tension and release all at once. Her lips feel so familiar, like finding some long-lost part of me. She trembles against me, and I probe further, deepening the kiss, drinking her in like I’ve been wandering the desert for ages and she is my oasis.

Then the ground shakes and there’s an enormous crash as the battering ram breaks through the palace gates.

Reality rushes in around me. I’m here to take Sarielle to my brother. She is the enemy , and I’ve fallen under her spell just as they’d warned me.

I step back, creating distance between us. Sarielle’s face widens in shock as if I’ve struck her.

“Don’t do this, Zyren,” she begs. “Come with me. We’ll find a way to get your memories back. And we’ll save Valaron together.”

“No. I’m not coming with you. You’re coming with me .”

I step toward her again, but this time she moves out of reach. “Don’t you see!” She flings an arm toward the palace. “Your brother and Avonia are invading Eldare. Just as they invaded most of Valaron. How am I the enemy when they’re the ones leading the army?”

My brow furrows and I shake my head, my thoughts clouding over. “No, you have it wrong. Jonavus said—”

“Jonavus is her slave !” Sarielle cries. “Go see for yourself if you don’t believe me. Who else would be able to command an army of nightmares other than me? And I’m right here before you.”

“Maybe you sent your generals to lead the attack while you tried to bespell me.” But even as I say the words, doubt worms through my head.

“Fine. Let’s go see.” Her expression has gone from sad to furious in an instant, every line of her body hard with anger.

“I’m not going anywhere with you,” I growl.

“Because, deep down, you know that I’m right.”

I catch movement out of my periphery, and four figures stride toward us from a cluster of trees a few dozen yards away. Sarielle’s companions.

“We need to go, Sarielle. The battle is drawing closer,” one of the men says, the sorcerer from Valaron with the blue eyes.

“I’m not leaving without Zyren,” Sarielle snaps.

“If we die here, or are captured by Avonia, both Eldare and Valaron are forfeit, and then you’ll never figure out a way to help Zyren,” the man presses.

Sarielle’s gaze locks onto mine, her eyes burning. “Don’t do this. Come with us.”

I shake my head. “I will not forsake my brother.”

She looks heartbroken, but she nods. “I’ll find you again.”

And with that, she turns and disappears with her companions into the darkness.