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

Sarielle

Chapter Thirty

Sarielle

T he blare of the horns dies, and I can see four riders galloping from the gates in the distance, making way for the palace. They’re halfway to the courtyard when Avonia’s army comes into view on the road through the mountains. They arrive at the gate with a battering ram, which soon begins to crash into the gate with a resounding clang .

I do not know if we will survive until nightfall.

Time seems to move slowly, measured in heartbeats that echo the battering ram. The gate is brought down within a matter of minutes, and then Avonia’s forces make way for the palace. Above them flies a swarm of nightmares, perhaps a hundred in total. Avonia had released many more than I realized, but still only a small percentage of the tens of thousands that still dwell in their territory, locked behind the magical barrier.

Avonia rides at the head of her army astride a large black horse. I wait until they reach the outer courtyard gates before I summon Astherius. The ancient, deadly nightmare swoops down from her perch in the mountain peaks just out of sight, and she lands with a reverberating boom behind me in the courtyard. The dozens of nightmares that had begun to dive toward my warriors pull up and spin away into the sky.

“Hear this!” I call across the courtyard. “I will grant freedom to any nightmare that fights by my side, today and forevermore! I am the first Queen of Nightmares to share your blood, and I will free you from your prison.” I let my words ring across the sky a moment before continuing. “But if you choose to be my enemy, you will draw your last breath at the steps of my palace. Make your choice!”

Avonia stands in her stirrups and points at me. “You know your true queen—take the head of this false one and bring it to me!”

One of the nightmares circling overhead dives for me. I see it coming, see the murderous glint in its eyes. Astherius surges upward and snaps the thing in two between her massive jaws, spitting the broken, bloody pieces across the courtyard. When she’s done, she releases a mighty roar that shakes the very ground beneath my feet.

There is a moment of silence, and then chaos descends.

Overhead, the nightmares turn on each other and begin to fight. Others start diving at my soldiers, or Avonia’s. Avonia kicks her horse forward through the gate, followed by about a hundred cavalry, and another several hundred footmen behind them. I can’t tell who’s taken sides with whom. But somehow, the nightmares seem to be able to sense who is now an enemy.

I stand in Astherius’ shadow, watching the chaos as it swirls toward me. It seems about half of the nightmares have joined me, but even with those numbers, we are greatly outnumbered five to one. For a moment, a wave of despair moves over me. Have I led everyone to their deaths?

Behind me, Astherius growls and shoves me with her snout. I turn to face her, and when she bends down and stretches out her front leg, the message is clear. I climb onto her back, and we make for the sky. She lets out a terrifying shriek that’s loud enough to tear the heavens, and we make a big circle over the battle before she begins to dive toward the enemy.

Time begins to move slowly. At first, I think it’s the fact that my life and a hundred others are on the line. The fact that this battle, this moment, I’m faced with the reality of my choices. And in this moment, it’s possible I might not live to the next. Or the next, or the next.

But then I realize, it’s not just that. Time is literally slowing. Xinius had told us this was happening as part of Valaron’s collapse, but experiencing it firsthand is something else entirely. The battle unfolds before my eyes in exaggerated images and garish streaks of color. A horse leaping over the body of a warrior who falls to the ground, an arrow in his side. Crimson sprays arcing across the gray sky like a woman’s fan. Faces contorted in pain or rage or surprise. The wings of a nightmare beating so slowly I can count the veins running through the leathery skin. Swords cutting downward or stabbing upward at their mark, the blades reflecting the scene around them.

The battle restarts again, and it’s as if everything is moving at lightning speed. Astherius finishes her dive, crashing through dozens of warriors coming up the road to the courtyard. Their screams fill the air and their bodies fling out to either side of us, making me cringe. I know they’re the enemy, but who knows what lies and coercion Avonia has fed them to bring them to this place, this day, this end.

But before I can contemplate it too much, time slows again.

It stops and starts so many times that I lose all track of how long we’ve been battling. Had it been five minutes, an hour, a day?

Astherius circles above the battle once again. Looking down, I can see dozens of arrows sticking out of her thickly scaled body. I wonder if she can feel them, or if perhaps they’re too shallow to affect her much. My eyes scan wider, looking for Zyren in the mass of bodies below. He’s locked in combat with three of Avonia’s warriors, and I see, too, a familiar face approaching from the south.

Jonavus.

I try to call out a warning, but my voice is drowned out in the cacophony of battle.

I notice, too, as we circle, that we’re still vastly outnumbered.

If the tide of this battle doesn’t change soon, my court will also be my grave.