29. Danai

Chapter 29

Danai

I sabel watched as armored men streamed out of the lifeless town of Grove’s Pass. Bodies of fallen Rangers had been cleared and burned, but the place still felt gutted.

I stepped up to stand beside her, placing both hands on the remnant of the town’s wooden palisade. “The wheels are in motion, Your Majesty. We’re getting closer.”

She turned to head back toward her makeshift command center, never responding or looking back to see if I followed.

I did.

The house was empty. All the maps had been rolled up and secured. The tables and floors were now as bare as when we had arrived.

Isabel sat at one of the barren tables and poured herself a glass of the last remaining bottle of brandy. She savored the sip, swirling it in her mouth and tilting her head back with closed eyes. Then an almost pleasant smile parted her lips.

Almost.

“What is it, Danai? You’re hovering.”

She’d become so sharp lately.

“May I join you?”

She eyed me a moment, then nodded and poured me a small measure of brandy. I noted how much less she gave me than her original pour, then watched as she drained the bottle into her own glass, filling it past spilling. She raised the glass to her lips and slurped the liquid until the danger was gone.

Isabel never slurped.

She was the very picture of a regal presence, a rigidity that often chafed against her daughter’s rebellious nature.

“Our plans progress well.”

“But?”

I sighed. “But, their Mages—”

“What of them?”

“I am powerful. You know this. I can easily best any single Melucian Mage—perhaps even four or five at once—but they have nearly ten times our number, and their tower—”

She waved a hand and took another long sip. “I will handle the tower and their Mages.”

“Your Majesty . . . Isabel .” I gaped. “I know your Fire has strengthened, but it is not powerful enough to stand against dozens of Mages, especially with the tower strengthening them.”

I tried to keep the derision out of my voice but didn’t quite succeed. She glanced up from her glass, her eyes swirling with a disquieting crimson.

“You know the purpose of the sacrifices, Danai? I am Isabel no more. That pitiful fool would never have been able to handle more than a few of their number, but I am not that writhing worm of a queen. Everyone will soon taste the breadth of my power.”

I shuddered.

No longer Isabel?

Had the spirit of Irina truly supplanted Isabel?

Was such a thing possible?

Of course, I knew the purpose of the sacrifices and the Children’s ceremony. It had been my life’s mission for nearly a thousand years, but never had I thought Irina could consume another’s soul.

So many things suddenly made sense.

Her anger that never seemed to ebb.

The way she dispatched the High Sheriff, a man so loyal to the Crown he would have died a hundred times before seeing harm come to her.

The way her eyes swam in blood, the white having fled following Irina’s return.

Bringing Irina back was supposed to . . . what? Reunite lovers separated by time? I longed for her embrace, yet we had never been so close as that.

Had I fooled myself into thinking her return might change things between us? That she might see how long I had striven, how hard I had fought in her name? And what? She would love me?

With all my wisdom, was I truly such a fool?

Nothing made sense anymore.

Yet it all made sense.

What have I done?

“What will you do? When we have won, what is next?” I asked.

She set her glass down and studied me for a moment. “Danai, what do you think we are doing here? What does winning even mean?”

I sensed a trap but couldn’t figure out how to escape it. All I knew was the answer Isabel had given time and again. “You wanted to unite the continent under one banner, under one rule. Winning is just that. One land. One Kingdom. One Queen.”

She laughed.

Not a girlish giggle or subtle chuckle. She let out a long, sonorous cackle that rose from the depth of her gut. She laughed until tears of amusement formed and her eyes crinkled.

“Oh, Danai. You have not been paying attention at all.” Her voice lost all mirth. “I am not Isabel. I have no interest in ruling, or in having anything to do with the people of this land. I am here to take my vengeance on those who damned me all those years ago. I will hear them call for mercy, cry for death. I will watch as they draw their final breath with my face as the last thing they ever see.”

She rose and stood before the table.

“The Melucians, the Kingdom, this war? They mean nothing to me. I will have my revenge if I have to kill everyone alive to get it. There are only four Mages remaining, and I will see them ended.”

Her eyes blazed with anger and hatred.

I wished I could flee.

She was definitely not Isabel.

She no longer craved power. Death was her instrument, vengeance her only care.

How had I not seen that before?

How had I not known?

And now I was truly trapped.

“Your will be done, Queen Irina ." I raised my glass to her and downed the last of my brandy. “I have a few preparations to complete before we leave. Marks said we depart in three hours. By your leave.”

She nodded absently and returned her attention to her half-empty glass as I backed out, my eyes never daring to leave her.