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

Zyren

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Zyren

W e’ve only been asleep for a couple of hours when I hear the blast of horns in the courtyard below.

Sarielle and I both sit upright at the same time, our eyes finding each other. We get up out of bed and stride quickly to the arched windows, looking out over Selaye. All seems still, but then I see a lone rider galloping up the empty streets toward the palace.

We dress quickly and rush downstairs to the courtyard. When we get there, the rider has just arrived and is dismounting. She sees us on the stairs of the palace and rushes toward us, falling to one knee in front of Sarielle, her short dark hair blowing in a breeze coming over the mountains.

“My Queen,” she says breathlessly. “I was out on patrol. Avonia’s forces are coming through a rift about a mile south of here.”

Sarielle turns to me, stricken, and I know I share a similar expression. “One of her warriors must have escaped when we arrived,” I say grimly, “and alerted her to your presence here.” It’s not that we hadn’t known she’d come, but we thought we had more time.

A sharp nod, Sarielle’s demeanor shifting from shock to resolve in a matter of moments. She places her hand on the rider’s shoulder. “You’ve saved lives today, warrior. You have my thanks.”

The warrior nods, looking both proud and petrified all at once. Sarielle looks out across the courtyard and calls for all to hear, her voice ringing clearly. “The enemy is here. Prepare for battle!”

Then she swings her gaze to me. “I need to find Xinius. We must get the realm merge spell done before Avonia arrives. I need my full power.”

My jaw rolls, but I don’t argue. My hand slides into hers and I squeeze her fingers. “I know, my love. Go. I’ll help rally the warriors.”

She nods and I dust a kiss over her lips before we rush in separate directions. I glance up at the sky as I jog down the steps into the courtyard, which is filling with warriors. It’s blanketed in clouds, gray and ominous. Fitting for what’s to come, as if the land itself knows the end is near.

But it won’t be the end. Sarielle will survive the realm merge. Because, if she doesn’t, I’ll destroy the whole world myself, and Avonia with it.

Within thirty minutes the warriors, plus the citizens who stayed behind, are all in their places, weapons in hand. I’ve got a sword and two daggers myself, strapped to my belt and shoved down into my boots. I’d left a small contingent of warriors at the front gates, but the rest are in the courtyard. We know we can’t win with a hundred people against Avonia’s armies. This battle is going to come down to Sarielle. Sarielle and the impossible spell she’s going to try to cast. We just need to hold our places long enough to buy her some time.

As if they’d heard my thoughts, Sarielle and Xinius appear behind me on the steps to the palace. I can tell by the look on Sarielle’s face that I’m not going to like what they have to say.

“The spell to merge the realms requires four sorcerers to prepare it,” Xinius says. “I summoned my fellow sorcerers yesterday, but they won’t arrive for several hours. I’ll begin what I can on my own, but we won’t be ready before Avonia arrives.”

I nod, my lips pressed into a thin, grim line. “Well then, we’ll have to hold them off until you are.”

“Yes,” Sarielle agrees, her expression fierce. “We will.”

“I will send for you when it’s time,” Xinius says to Sarielle. “We’ll be gathered in the throne room.”

Xinius turns and retreats within the palace, and I turn to Sarielle. She stands there, dressed in black warrior leathers, daggers strapped to her sides, framed by the Court of Nightmares and the mountains beyond. The wind whips her silvery hair like a banner, and her golden eyes glow against the gray sky. This is our home, and I want nothing more than to live here with Sarielle until the end of our days.

“I love you,” I say, grasping her hands. “Please don’t ever forget that, no matter what happens.”

“I know,” she says softly. “I love you, too. And if… if the spell is too strong for me, I want you to promise me something.”

I shake my head violently. “No. The spell is not going to be too strong.”

“Zyren,” she says gently. “Promise me that you’ll rule over Valaron. You’re the only one I trust.”

I recoil as if her words struck me. “You know I cannot…”

“ Will not,” she corrects. “Because of guilt you’ve been carrying for centuries. It is not your fault your brother died. And your nightmare blood doesn’t make you any less deserving. In fact, it makes you more so. Because in all these centuries, you’ve never once hurt anyone because you lost control of yourself, of your darkness. Don’t you think, after all this time, that you can trust yourself? And forgive yourself?”

“I don’t think I can,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper.

“The only way I’ve survived without my full magic these past few days has been because of my nightmare. We would be dead if not for her. Trust yourself, trust your nightmare. Promise me, Zyren. Promise you’ll at least try.”

I hesitate, but then nod. I would give her my life. I would give her anything, anything at all. “I promise,” I say.

And at that moment, we hear the horns of the sentries at the gate, and our time for fragile promises is gone.