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

Sarielle

Chapter Thirty-Two

Sarielle

O ne moment there’s a dark shadow flying toward us, then the next there’s a jarring impact as something strikes Astherius.

Her body spins in midair, and I’m flung off her back as we both fall from the sky. I catch flashes of the palace, of the battle below, of the mountains in the distance. Then there’s another crash as Astherius hits the courtyard tiles, and I have a half-second to wonder if I’ll survive before I hit, too.

It’s the swarm of fighting bodies that saves me. The courtyard is so packed with warriors fighting hand-to-hand that several of the poor souls break my fall. Agony shoots through my body, but pain means that I’m alive. Unlike the warriors crushed beneath my nightmare. I wince, both in pain and because I hope they were Avonia’s men, not mine.

I don’t have the luxury of peeling myself up off the stones and checking for broken bones. Someone stabs a sword toward my face, a flash of movement I catch in just enough time to roll to the side. Several people step on me, and for a sickening moment I’m afraid I’ll be trampled.

Shoving myself to my knees, I fight through the pain and then straighten all the way. My gaze sweeps over Astherius, who’s beginning to move. She’s likely just stunned. The boulder that hit us is nearly the size of her head. Another sword is thrust toward me, and this time I’m forced to pull a dagger and plunge it into my attacker’s heart as they lean in close to me.

After I shove the body away, I scan the courtyard for Zyren. I can’t see him anywhere. Which isn’t surprising with hundreds of warriors crushed together, but for some reason, panic spikes through my veins. I can’t help the overwhelming feeling that something terrible has happened.

But as I swing my gaze back and forth, I notice Avonia striding up the steps to the palace with a contingent of warriors. I can’t let her get inside. Xinius is in there, hopefully with the other sorcerers by now, and they need more time. I shove through the crowd, ducking past swords, moving around clusters of warriors. My inner nightmare surges to the surface, rage pumping through my veins. This is my palace. I won’t let her take it.

I catch her as she reaches the double doors of the palace, and a feral growl rips from my throat.

Avonia turns, her eyes widening slightly, no doubt at the sight of my black eyes. “I have to say, I didn’t expect you to possess nightmare blood like me. You were always so sweet and innocent.”

“My blood was passed down from my ancestors,” I snarl. “Not like yours, bought only through union with a nightmare.” My eyes rest on the swell of her belly.

“Had you told me sooner, perhaps I would have shown you mercy,” she says with a shrug. “Appointed you a position within my court.”

A laugh rips from my throat, and shadows swirl around me. “I am not the one who needs mercy. The only position for me is sitting on the throne five floors above us. Surrender before it’s too late for you. And for your child.”

Avonia stares at me coldly. “You will be the one surrendering, not me,” she snarls. “I have waited far too long to take what’s rightfully mine. House Septarus will be ignored no longer.”

The ground shifts beneath my feet, and I feel a dark swell of magic pour from Avonia’s core, from what’s growing inside her. It’s not a darkness like that of my nightmare, or Zyren’s, or Astherius even. This is something unnatural, something so black it sends a shiver of dread up my spine. Something deeper and darker than even the nightmares, something that feels more like…

And with a prickling of recognition and understanding, it all makes sense.

It isn’t nightmare blood that Avonia carries within her. Nightmare blood that allowed her to break the spell Zyren and I wrought through our marriage, a spell that had lasted over two thousand years. Nightmare blood that broke the barrier between their territory and the rest of Valaron, that created cracks in reality, and earthquakes, and frozen time.

It’s demon blood.

Because the magic I feel now, the presence, is one I am all too familiar with.

“Avonia, no!” I scream.

But it’s too late.

The earth rocks violently beneath our feet, and I fall backward onto the stone tiles. The sky changes from pale gray to deepest night. And in the distance, I hear a terrible sound, the sound of mountains tumbling, of Valaron tearing in two.