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

Zyren

Chapter Fifteen

Zyren

I feel a strange emptiness wash over me as Sarielle strides off into the darkness. The urge to go after her is almost overwhelming.

This woman has strong magic.

Letting out a growl, I shake my head to clear it. To erase the taste of her, the scent of her, the feel of her body beneath mine. I may not be able to remember the last few years, but Sarielle is etched in my head permanently.

I need to find my brother and figure out what we’re going to do next. I head in the direction of the palace gates. Not that I intend on getting wrapped up in the attack, but I want to see if I can identify the attacking army. Unlikely, since I’m not from this realm…

Of course, part of me needs to know that Sarielle isn’t right. That it isn’t Avonia attacking.

My brother told me the whole story. How Sarielle arrived mysteriously from another realm and used her magic to manipulate her way to the throne. How she’d convinced Jonavus to marry her, only to attempt to assassinate him on their wedding day. That’s when Avonia had arrived, saving Jonavus and making Sarielle flee. Apparently, I’d joined the hunt to find her, but she’d traveled the realm, trying to turn other courts against us, until finally creating the rift into Eldare and escaping. I’d gone after her, and she’d used her magic to strip away my memories in an attempt to turn me against my brother and his allies.

That must be why sometimes I feel so strongly that I know her, even though I have no actual memories of her before awakening next to the rift. I’d been tracking her for weeks, trying to capture her and end the discord she’d sewn throughout Valaron.

But then why does it feel like I know her far more intimately than I should?

I shouldn’t have these kinds of urges towards my brother’s wife. It makes my gut twist with shame every time I think of it. Even now, our kiss replays over and over in my head…

The sounds of battle pull me from my dark thoughts. I’m nearly to the palace gate now, skirting the fringe of forest that runs alongside the wall. I can hear hoofbeats, the screams of both warriors and nightmares, the clash of weapons. Smoke makes the air hazy and burns my eyes. The glow of flames can be seen through the trees.

As I draw closer, I tread slowly, carefully. I find a good vantage point within the trees a couple dozen yards from the gate, off to one side, and I crouch down to watch. Horses and riders are galloping back and forth, and there’s a thick cluster right at the gate, locked in battle. The palace cavalry riders wear pale gray uniforms, and the attacking forces are in black with a white emblem. My eyes catch on the emblem on one of them, and my chest tightens.

I recognize it. A dragon with spears crossed behind it.

It’s the house emblem of the Court of Memory.

My thoughts spin. Jonavus said we’d all been at the Court of Memory right before I went through the rift, and, ironically, lost my own memories. He said Sarielle attempted to wed one of the lords there, the nephew of the high lord and lady of the court, and that he and Avonia had shown up just in time to avert another attempted coup.

But then why would the Court of Memory be here, in Eldare, attacking the royal palace?

That meant they’d found one of the rifts and ridden a whole army through it. Why would they want to travel to Eldare, let alone make enemies of its people? It makes no sense. Jonavus said the only reason he and Avonia traveled through the rift was to capture Sarielle and bring her back to Valaron to await trial for her crimes, that her capture was the key to peace for our realm.

A prickle of dread moves along my skin. I need to find my brother now .

I turn and scan the horizon, following the line of cavalry pressing forward onto the palace. Beyond the riders stands a row of catapults, and beyond that, in the moonlight, I can see several battalions of foot soldiers waiting for their turn to siege the palace once the warriors on horseback have taken the gate. My eyes keep scanning, moving across forest and field, until they land on a small circle of tents and fires atop a hill perhaps a mile in the distance.

Without second thought, I make for the encampment on the hill. I don’t know what drives me. My brother shouldn’t be there—surely he wouldn’t condone this attack. But I don’t have anywhere else to start. And there’s some urge inside of me, something that compels me. I hear Sarielle’s voice in my head, telling me my brother and Avonia are responsible for this.

I have to know that she is wrong. I have to .

It takes nearly an hour to reach the summit of the hill since I have to go the long way, skirting around the waiting warriors, and navigating unfamiliar land. In some places I cut through deep, dark forest, the sound of night birds making me tense since I know all too well that nightmares are loose in this realm, too. Other places I cross moonlit meadows strewn with rocks. The terrain becomes steeper, and a granite cliff rises above me. Once I get close to the base of the cliff, I can’t see the tents any longer, but curls of smoke rising from the summit mark my way.

When I finally find my way up a steep path and emerge into a small clearing at the top of the cliff, I stop to catch my breath and observe from the shadows before moving forward. There are five tents, four of which fly flags bearing the Court of Memory house emblem. But the largest tent, the one in the center, flies a different one. The emblem of House Septarus, a red serpent on black.

Avonia’s house.

There are two guards posted outside Avonia’s tent, and I see a handful of warriors sitting around a fire right on the edge of the cliff. A dozen horses are hobbled close to the tree line where I’m hiding, and there’s a large nightmare perched on a tree on the opposite side of the clearing, staring down at them as if anticipating its next meal. Its glowing blue eyes are fixated too close to my hiding place for comfort. My own inner nightmare growls and claws for the surface, sensing a challenge.

But I can’t wait any longer to find out what’s going on. I stride toward the central tent, my movement causing uneasy snorts from the horses. The nightmare flaps its wings and pivots its glacial eyes to me, but I ignore it and keep moving. As I approach, the two guards turn to face me, drawing their weapons.

“I’m here to see my brother, and Avonia,” I say, my tone daring them to argue.

After a moment’s pause, one of them ducks inside the tent. A moment later, he reemerges, gesturing me inside.

I duck beneath the thick flap of the tent and straighten once inside, taking in the sight before me. Avonia is sitting on a pile of furs in the center, drinking something nearly black in color from a silver goblet. One hand is wrapped around the growing curve of her belly. Several torches in iron sconces dot the space, casting flickering, golden light across her. My brother sits at her side, holding a plate of food. As I enter, she plucks a piece of fruit from the plate and places it into her mouth, eyes locked on mine.

After a moment to swallow, she says, “You’re alone. Why?”

Jonavus smiles. “We’re of course delighted to see that you escaped the Eldarian warriors, brother.”

“The chaos caused by the attack on the palace made that fairly easy,” I say, keeping my tone neutral despite the feeling of wrongness rising through my chest. “But I have to say, I’m confused as to why the Court of Memory is attacking Eldare. We got separated at the ruins, and next thing I know there’s an army at the palace gates.”

“Sarielle was going to do the same to us, so we decided to go on the offensive,” Avonia says. “She’s from Eldare, remember, and she made an alliance with the king and queen. They were preparing to attack Valaron.”

I am careful to keep the confusion from my face. Sarielle had been gone at most an hour from the prison. Why would she have been imprisoned in the first place if she knew the king and queen? But I remember then how she told me they’d let her go, how she seemed so casual about it. Perhaps she was imprisoned by mistake, and that’s why the guards took her before them. Had she planned this attack all along?

A rumble of thunder enters my voice. “If I’m going to assist the two of you in tracking our enemy, it’s vital I be informed of your plans, especially when it comes to attacking armies.”

“Relax, brother,” Jonavus says, waving a hand at me. “We just didn’t want to tax you, what with your memories being erased. You’ve gone through an ordeal lately.” He pauses. “We have to ensure that Eldare is under control and won’t attack us. Eldare, or any other realm in Aureon.”

Avonia takes another piece of fruit and chews it thoughtfully while she stares at me. Her gaze is all predator. The beast within me can feel it, and it struggles to the surface again.

“Again, where is the one you are supposed to be tracking? Why have you come back empty handed?” she asks.

I stare back at her, my gaze unflinching. “Well, since you chose to leave me in the dark about your invasion of Eldare, that caused complications in getting Sarielle alone and delivering her here.” My brother may be wrapped around Avonia’s finger, but I certainly am not. “Now that I know what’s going on, I’ll begin tracking her again. She won’t get away next time.”

“For a warrior of your renown, Zyren, it’s somewhat shocking she ever got away in the first place.” Avonia drums her long nails against her thigh. “Remember what we told you, since you don’t remember—she is incredibly cunning and her magic strong. Be careful not to fall under her spell.”

“I should know,” Jonavus adds. “I fell under her power all too easily, I am ashamed to admit. She’s a seductress, that one.”

Images flash through my head. Sarielle’s glowing golden eyes. Her lips, parting for me. That sigh, how she melted against my touch. The feeling of her hip pressing against mine…

“I will not fall for her,” I snap. “I’ll find her, and I’ll bring her back.”

“Actually,” Avonia says, “there’s been a change in plans.”

“Oh?” My brows lift.

“It’s clear now that she’s opened the rift that Sarielle intends to continue finding allies here in Aureon to help her take over Valaron. She’s too great a risk—we want peace with our new neighbors, not endless wars, never knowing what’s going to come through one of the rifts.”

Jonavus locks gazes with me. “It pains me to issue such an edict against my own wife, but we no longer want her brought back here. We want her dead.”