Chapter 45

CHAPTER 45

ELODIE

Elodie fought as she had not fought in years. There had been no need. But she had lost none of her skill.

With the light of the Aurum blazing beneath her skin she moved like lightning. She barely noticed the faces who fell before her. Later, she knew, they'd come back to her. In her nightmares, or in the dark of the night when she couldn't sleep at all. But for now, for this moment, they were blurs.

All but Leander's. He looked too like his uncle. Too like Evander, who had hurt her and betrayed her. Who had betrayed everyone.

Perhaps they should have expected it all along. It had been a last-ditch attempt at peace, but she should have known it would never work. Her handsome prince had used it as a trick, a cunning plan to get inside Pelias, into the chamber of the Aurum and do his worst. A suicide mission perhaps, but Evander had never cared about that. He would have done anything to bring Elodie to her knees.

She hated him. Still hated him with a fire that never ceased, a fire she turned on his people now. It would have been too easy to lose herself in its blazing fury, let the Aurum fill her and be its instrument again, its hand on this earth. But there was a purpose to her action and she clung to that. She had to reach Wren, had to protect her. She had to stop this.

The prince – not Evander, Elodie reminded herself, but barely any better – retreated from Wren as the girl drew on more magic than Elodie would have thought possible and drove him out of the circle. This endless power belonged to Wren now, to her and the Nox. The two of them were working together, the magic entwining with her and wrapping itself around Finn. Wren was focused entirely on the man she held, the man who should have been long dead in any other circumstances.

But Wren wasn't having that. Finn was hers. Body and soul. Perhaps he always had been. Light poured through her, a light so bright, and it anchored him to the world, to her.

Her Wren. So brilliant, so powerful, so impossibly stubborn. Elodie realised that she had never been more proud. Her Wren, still holding firm, still clinging to the light, still determined not to lose anyone she loved.

And it was love. There was no way she would be able to do it otherwise. Not even the Nox could work a wonder like that.

I knew it, Elodie wanted to shout in triumph. I knew I was right about her.

Horses thundered around the clearing, the Knights of the Aurum riding to their rescue. Her knights. The Ilanthian troops still standing broke to run. Shadow kin turned on their would-be rescuers, a swarm of darkness and malevolence. No, not this time, not when she could do something about it. Elodie raised a shield of light over the newly arrived knights, incinerating any of the dark creatures who came too close to them.

She had to look for him. She couldn't help herself.

Her Paladin…

And on the far side of the clearing, across the circle of ancient stones, she saw him. She couldn't fail to recognise him. He had been in her dreams for more than twenty years. He had once been her everything. Roland shouted his commands as he always had, clear and precise, and moved like the warrior he had always been. Entirely present in the moment, focused completely on his troops, his role, on the battle. He and his mount seemed to be one being, moving with one mind. A killer, and a champion, and everything she had ever wanted.

She almost stopped in her tracks, staring at him.

The impact to the back of her body sent her down in a heap but the light still shielding her deflected the worst. Leander aimed a kick at her head that she rolled to avoid. As much of a little bastard as Evander ever was then. It figured. She was up on her feet again before he could strike a more dangerous blow.

‘You finally crawled out of your hole then,' he hissed at her. ‘It's never going to be safe for you again, understand? I'm going to make you pay for everything.'

His retreating men shouted for him, but he didn't move. He wanted her dead, she knew that. He wanted to kill her himself.

Like he would have half a chance of that.

‘Run away, little boy,' she told him, swinging her sword nonchalantly into position. ‘Go home and lick your wounds, and don't come back. Don't ever come near what is mine again.'

‘Yours?' he sneered. ‘Is that your claim now? She's going to be mine. She's going to beg me to take her. The Nox will see to that.'

‘The Nox is broken and banished. Your goddess is nothing now.'

At that he laughed, actually laughed. Like she was an idiot, standing there in front of him. This child, this boy, laughed at her.

‘Queen Aeryn of Asteroth,' he said with a sneer, drawing out each phrase in mockery. ‘Heading back home to the chamber of the Aurum, in the Sacrum itself. With little Wren beside her. What could possibly go wrong?'

Elodie narrowed her eyes, trying to work out what he knew, how he could possibly know. No, she told herself. I was right. All these years, I've been right.

Roland stepped towards them, and Leander backed up, a little less certain faced with two of them. Slowly, he shook his head.

‘What are you going to do, either of you? Kill me and it will be another war. Ilanthus will fall on you like a wave.'

‘Your uncle said things like that once,' said Elodie. ‘He died too.'

Leander grinned at her, that maddening, mad smile of the line of Sidon. ‘You murdered him.'

Elodie was about to answer but he wasn't exactly wrong. Her protest failed. Evander had died and war had come, a war from which she had fled. There was so much to plead guilty to here. She didn't know where to start.

‘He's right,' said Roland, his voice a deep rumble behind her. Elodie didn't dare turn around, couldn't. She told herself it was because she didn't want to take her eyes off the prince, but that wasn't entirely true either. ‘He's their crown prince. Let him go.'

‘He's broken the Pact,' Elodie said. ‘He shouldn't be here. He should never have come after Wren.'

‘Elodie,' Roland murmured. ‘He isn't worth it. Let him go.'

For a moment she wanted to ignore him, wanted to scream and run the little bastard through. But she couldn't move. Just like so long ago, when Evander had used the same threat, she knew he was right. Kill him and everything would fall apart. Show mercy and maybe, just maybe, there was a chance… if not to avoid war then at least delay it. For a time.

Slowly, she let her sword arm drop and nodded. Hating him. Hating herself. Hating Roland.

Leander didn't need to be told twice. He broke and ran, vaulting onto one of the Ilanthian horses and tearing off to the north. His men, those still alive, fled with him. Just like that, the battle, such as it was, was over.

Suddenly, Elodie felt a million years old, her arms weighed down and her body wrung out. She let the sword fall from her hand, thudding onto the grass, and its light finally dimmed to a faint glow. The use of so much magic, even if it had come naturally to her with the dawn, left her drained and aching. It had been too long. She'd forgotten how hard it was, especially afterwards.

The urge to just drop to her knees right there in the mud and pass out was powerful indeed. And then, she realised, she had another problem as well. One much worse.

A shadow loomed over her. But it wasn't a creature of the dark. It was so much worse than that.

Oh no. Not this. Not like this.

How could she face him again, after so many years? What could she say?

She turned slowly, longing to just run instead. And looked up.

Roland de Silvius, older, a touch of silver in his black hair, a few lines on his face, but the same man. Towering over her. The same as he ever was.

Mine , her treacherous heart whispered inside her. He's mine.

His lips moved, as if numb or as if he'd had a blow to the head, leaving him almost senseless. The way they always did when he said her name. Her true name. ‘Elodie?'

Not like this, she thought. It couldn't be like this. She had to go. She had to run. She needed to get Wren and run. They could still make it if she…

She backed away and saw Roland's brow furrow. He knew, she realised. But then he had always known what she was thinking, sometimes better than she did. And behind that confusion she could sense his anger, his pain. She couldn't face that.

It was her fault. It was all her fault.

A voice cried out, one full of anger and fear. ‘Don't touch him! Don't you dare—let go! I have to—you'll kill him.'

Wren!

Her attention snapped away from Roland and straight to the girl. Two no doubt well-meaning knights were trying to help her with Finn but Wren wouldn't see it like that. Even now Elodie could see the flow of power between them, the way the girl had tangled herself with the life essence of the young man she clung to. And she was right. If the idiots tore them apart, they'd break the spell. They would kill him. Nothing was keeping Finnian alive except for Wren's erratic magic.

Their eyes met and Wren's face fell to desperation. ‘Elodie! Help!'

The newmade sword was still at her feet. She could fight her way out if needs be. Their weapons were old in comparison. Hers was newly forged Aurum steel, made from the manacles but purified by the light she'd poured through it. It was strong and beautiful, a blade for a hero. Not for someone like her. But all the same she would use it, even against him, even against her own knights, and she would escape.

But it would mean leaving Wren when Wren needed her most.

And Elodie knew, with a cold and terrible realisation, she could never do that. Not under any circumstances.

How could she have even dreamed that was possible after all these years?

Elodie abandoned the sword and sprinted into the stone circle. It was dormant now, the magical power engendered by the darkness drained away with the dawn, leaving only traces behind. She could still feel the potential rippling through the ground and the air. It shook through her, stirred up by Wren's use.

The two knights stared at her in abject horror. They were young, so very young. They looked like boys. ‘Get back from them, you idiots. Are you trying to get him killed? Stand down.'

They glanced over her shoulder and she was certain that, behind her, Roland caught their eyes and nodded in that slow grim way of his.

Still, they hesitated. Probably more out of fear than anything else. They'd seen what she'd done. They might even suspect who she was.

She didn't want to think about that. It was a problem for later.

‘I won't say it again. Get away from my daughter!'

The world seemed to freeze around her and tears stung her eyes, vicious little pinpricks that tormented her. Wren looked up at her, the girl's dark eyes glistening, and she held out a hand.

Her daughter… her child…

Elodie dropped to her knees, wrapping her fingers around Wren's and pressed her other hand to the wound in Finnian's chest, willing the flesh to reknit itself, and the internal damage to heal. She even forced the shredded metal to get out of her way so she could heal him.

It was a working of pure force, without subtlety or charm. She didn't have time for that. The light flowing through her came from the old magic itself, threading through the earth and the sky, the light that fuelled the Aurum and allowed her to work wonders. The boy was already touched by it. Wren had chosen him over and over, and she had all but anointed him already. He was more of a Paladin than half of the men standing around them. Perhaps more so than anyone but Roland himself.

What that might mean, Elodie didn't want to think. An Ilanthian, of the House of Sidon, Evander's nephew… blessed by the Aurum, light flowing through his veins like quicksilver. It was an anathema to everything she believed in. And yet, here she was.

When Elodie was done, and the light faded, Wren rested her face against her chest, sobbing so quietly. As she released Finn, Elodie wrapped her arms around the girl, holding her close like she used to when Wren was tiny and the nightmares had been the worst.

‘It's all going to be all right, little bird. I promise,' she murmured, not even able to believe her own lie. But she had to say it. She had to say something. ‘It's going to be all right.'

When she looked up, every man there was gathered around them. They dropped to their knees, heads bent, and Elodie knew what was coming next.

Roland was the only one still staring right at her, fixing her with that dark and endless gaze, the one she had once fallen into and never really found her way out of.

Then slowly he drove the point of his sword into the ground and dropped to one knee before her.

‘Long live Queen Aeryn of Asteroth,' he said, and the knights all took up the cry.

Elodie hung her head and hugged Wren close. My daughter , she had said, for them all to hear. My daughter. And Roland had heard her too.

The one thing she had never wanted to happen. And here she was.

Finally trapped back in her nightmare of twenty years ago. And this time she didn't even have Roland to support her. Not anymore.

This time, Roland was her captor.