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

Sarielle

Chapter Eighteen

Sarielle

“ H ere. Eat up,” Owyn says, handing me a stick with skewers of roasted rabbit.

I take the stick and begin to devour the meat hungrily. He hands Lilette one, too, and for several minutes there is silence as we eat, sitting around the fire at the camp we’d made.

We’re only a couple miles from the Amethyst Palace, just far enough so that I can no longer see the golden spires. Once it was forever out of sight, we’d stopped, and Lilette and I had built a fire while Owyn went and caught our dinner, which he no doubt had a little magical help with.

As I sit there, I listen to the crackle of the fire and the babble of a creek a few feet away. It’s late morning. We’d been trapped in the labyrinth overnight and walked through the break of dawn to find the place we’re now resting. I now have less than three days to reclaim my throne and stop hell from being unleashed.

But I can’t keep my eyes open another moment.

I toss my greasy stick out into the bushes and lie back on soft grass beneath a fringe of trees. “We can’t sleep too long,” I say, my words thick and almost unintelligible. “Don’t let me…” I am asleep before I finish the sentence.

When I hear a branch snap nearby, I sit bolt upright. The sun is setting. I’d slept without dreaming, something that hasn’t happened since… I can’t even remember. Owyn is a few feet away, rebuilding the fire. Lilette is still fast asleep on the other side of it.

“I told you not to let me sleep too long,” I say crossly.

“Well, good evening to you, too,” he says. “It was only about seven hours. You were exhausted.”

I raise my arms over my head and stretch tentatively. My muscles feel soft again, refreshed. He wasn’t wrong. I’d needed that sleep. But now I’m down to two days and some change.

Owyn must see the wrinkle in my brow because his smile drops. “What is it?”

My eyes meet his. And I tell him, finally. The thing I’d been too ashamed to tell anyone but Zyren and Lilette. And Zyren doesn’t even remember.

When I’m done, Owyn’s expression is so bleak, it makes my stomach clench into knots. “Say something,” I whisper.

“I wish you’d told me sooner.”

“And could you have done anything? Or would it just have burdened you these last few weeks as it’s burdened me?”

“I knew we should never have made it out of that forest,” he says softly. “I should have known.”

“Perhaps all I did was extend our death briefly.” I place my face in my hands. “I should have let Avonia have Valaron.”

“No,” he says after a long moment. “Her reign will be catastrophic as well, for as long as she’s in power. I understand why you did what you did.”

“But now what? I don’t know how I can reclaim my throne in such a short period of time.”

“Well,” Owyn says, “At least the magic has been freed. That should boost your powers quite a bit. We have a fighting chance now.”

My body goes still. I’d been too deliriously tired to even attempt further magic on our journey here. My only goal had been to distance myself from that palace, and then rest.

Tentatively, hands in my lap, I look down at my fingers and summon my power.

A faint glow forms at the tips of my fingers, but it’s barely stronger than it was before. My heart drops to the ground. For a moment, all I can hear is a deathly silence as the reality of the situation swoops down around me.

I’d freed the magic, but my own is still gone.

I can’t fight Avonia.

I’ve utterly and completely failed.

“Nothing at all?” Owyn asks, his tone delicate.

I shake my head, tears burning in the corners of my eyes. “Not enough to matter. I don’t get it.”

“It still must be the rift then. Or maybe all of them,” he says. His jaw rolls. “Somehow, they must still be draining your power.”

A wave of total helplessness rolls over me. It seems no matter what I do, I’m destined to lose this battle.

You can let me out , says the darkness inside me.

Ignoring the voice, and the panic and desperation spiking through me, I get up. “I don’t know what to do next. I don’t know what I can do.” I look down at myself. I feel sticky from all the sweat and blood that had caked on me in the labyrinth. “For now, though, I need a bath. I’ve got to get all this blood off me.”

Owyn nods. “I’ll make some dinner and wake Lilette up. We’ll think of something, Sarielle.”

I nod, though we both know his words are empty. We’re out of options. I turn and weave through the trees, heading down toward the creek. It’s only about a short distance from our fire, so when I reach it, I walk downstream a bit so I have some privacy. A look over my shoulder confirms that the camp can’t be seen. There’s only a faint, distant glow from the fire, and a curl of smoke.

It’s twilight now, the sun having fallen behind the tree line during my brief conversation with Owyn. Only a spot of sunlight comes through the trees across the field beyond the stream, turning the stalks of grass a deep orange, and glinting off the water that bubbles over large, smooth rocks. I strip off my boots and my cloak, then my tunic and pants, and set them all carefully in the grass on the bank of the creek. The evening air slides over my bare skin, cool and soothing.

Carefully, I step down into the creek and walk out into a spot that’s deeper in the middle, where the water eddies and creates a small pool. I crouch down up to my collarbone, scrubbing my skin with the water, washing all the blood from those wicked metallic hedges. Not just blood and sweat, but the last remnants of my past. At least, if I fail at all else, I’ve succeeded in one thing. I’d rescued Lilette and stopped the High Priest. There will be no one else raised within those palace walls to be enslaved by that man.

I close my eyes, relishing the cool water and the last of the sun glittering through my eyelashes. Somewhere in the trees, a bird sings for the night, and another one farther off answers its call. For a few moments, I let every terrible thing slide away, gone with the current of the stream. Then, clean and refreshed, I stand and climb back out of the creek.

I’ve just bent down to pick up my clothes when I feel the kiss of a dagger at my throat.

“Get up, very slowly,” Zyren says in a low growl.