7. Isabel

Chapter 7

Isabel

M y eyes blazed as I strode down the winding stairs and remembered the rush of power that filled me as the spirit of Irina returned and nested within my soul. A thousand years of caged anger coursed through my veins. It took all of my will to contain my sister-soul.

Children in their long brown robes and ridiculous masks of twisted beasts flocked to the base of the stairs, anxiously awaiting their Queen’s arrival. Through the pulsing soul-gems on my crown, I felt the abject devotion pouring from each of them. The waves of emotion were unnerving. Empathy was one of the Gifts I had stolen through the seven sacrifices.

“Focus. There is yet much work to do,” my sister-soul chided from within.

My grin faltered. Apparently, Irina could hear my thoughts and share my feelings. That could prove inconvenient. Irina’s every desire was bent on destruction and, while a certain amount of war was necessary to win the day, I did want there to be a continent filled with people to rule. The more the spirit writhed within my consciousness, the more I wondered how aligned our aims truly were.

That Irina remained silent through those ruminations frightened me more than anything.

When I reached the bottom step, Danai Thorn, the only one not in a mask and robe, dropped to one knee before me.

“Your Majesty,” he said respectfully as he stared at my now-scarlet eyes.

“Yes, Danai, we succeeded.” I stunned him by placing a hand on his shoulder. “But this is only our first step. What happened with Jess? With those men who tried to stop our ceremony?”

“Most died, Your Majesty. Jess and a few men in black fled across the lake. Our archers failed to stop them.”

I removed my hand and crossed the ceremonial chamber, its roof now open to the night sky. The bloody haze of Irina’s return remained thick, cloaking the statue that towered above in a shroud of crimson light.

Danai trailed a few steps behind, struggling to keep up with my purposeful strides. He craned his head to watch as I closed my eyes. Ripples of magical energy flowed throughout the room as my senses sought my quarry. After a long moment, my eyes flew open.

“She’s in a field, sleeping by a small fire. The Melucians are with her, but I could not See much else. There were no landmarks, no hills or roads to mark their location.” I thrummed my fingers against my chin. “As long as she’s on the run, she cannot trouble our plans. I will deal with her later. Did the generals on the border receive our orders?”

“Yes, Your Majesty. I sent three plans, two of the King’s war games , and yours. Our generals will assume each came from the King. They await orders on which to execute.”

“Where are they in preparation? How long before they can send the advance units to clear out the Rangers?”

“I received word only a few hours ago. The men and equipment are in place. When the weather clears, they’ll be waiting for your command,” Danai said.

“Excellent. Send word to them. Begin Phase One. Take out the Rangers immediately .”

“Majesty, word of the King’s death will surely reach the generals before any other instruction. They may not follow your command.”

I whirled and pinned Danai with a glare. “They will do as I command. I will be Regent by the time the order to advance reaches their ears.”

“Regent? Yes, of course, Majesty.” Danai’s gaze faltered. “But . . . what about winter? The plan is to wait until spring. First snows have already fallen in the mountains, and we cannot get siege equipment through the pass. Our men will die in the cold of the peaks.”

I stopped at the door that led to my private chamber, knuckles white as my hand clutched the handle, then turned to face him. My eyes flared as a bloody mist swirled around Danai’s shoulders, gripping him with its icy touch.

“Begin. The. Invasion.” I glared down at him. “I will deal with winter—and never question me again.”

He dropped to a knee as I released him. His head bowed and shoulders trembled. “Of course, Your Majesty.”

I slammed the door behind me, leaving Danai on his knees.

“Idiot! A thousand years of waiting, and he wants to let a little snow slow us down?” Irina’s spirit stirred.

Unable to resist, I reveled in Irina’s wrath.

I marched into Cradle wearing a gown of solid gold with the Phoenix emblazoned across the front.

People gaped with varying degrees of awe, trepidation, and a fair measure of righteous indignation as I strode from the shore into town. Nowhere in the world was more than a line or two of gold on a collar or cuff considered appropriate. My blasphemous dress proclaimed me more a mythic goddess than a Gifted royal.

People were enraged.

I couldn’t have cared less.

Why should I?

The legendary spirit of Irina, the most powerful Mage to ever live, raged within my soul. With every step, I felt Irina’s power churning, yearning to wreak vengeance on those who imprisoned her a thousand years before.

So entwined were our souls, I could no longer tell where my own feelings ended and Irina’s simmering fury began.

That distinction mattered less by the moment.

I had plotted and planned for decades, patiently waiting for the day when I would step forward and claim my rightful place. The world was mine to conquer, mine to rule—and now I had the power to do both.

Now that Irina’s rebirth was complete, I faced a choice: Declare myself as Irina, name myself as Irina’s host, or keep the whole secret to myself?

The idea of announcing Irina’s return and displaying immense power did have a sadistic appeal. The little worms around me would squirm. I would enjoy watching that.

But, if I maintained the secret, I could continue to leverage relationships and bonds I’d cultivated as Queen over the years. The practical woman inside me knew I would need the simpering nobles and generals if I was to invade and truly conquer. I hadn’t done all this for wanton destruction. I wanted to unite the continent, to bring its people under one banner—mine. Even a goddess needed worshipers to do her bidding.

Goddess—I like the sound of that. I grinned at the thought.

I rounded the corner of a building, and the town square opened before me. The inn stood at the opposite end, while soldiers and guardsmen cluttered the grassy yard. The Royal Guard noticed me marching toward them and snapped to attention, pikes erect at their sides. Waves of surprise and fear—and anger—made me stagger, as my newly acquired Gift of Empathy revealed everything those around me felt.

Fear.

Confusion.

Doubt.

Anger.

The maelstrom of emotions that flooded through me threated to bring me to my knees.

I knew completion of the ritual would Enchant the crown I now wore with a Gift from each sacrifice. What I hadn’t expected was the disorienting experience of using those Gifts for the first time. There were so many people nearby, and every one of their emotions battered my mind and heart.

I held my chin high and pretended to ignore them. I was good at ignoring unimportant people. They were all unimportant now.

I reached the door to the inn, and the men in gold crossed their spears to bar my entry. My eyes widened as rage filled me.

“Get out of my way. What do you think you’re doing?” I glared from one man to the other. A thrill of satisfaction trickled through me as their emotions tilted toward uncertainty and fear.

And yet, they held fast.

“Fine, we will do this the hard way,” I said as I reached up and grabbed one of the guards by his breastplate. He stood well over six feet tall and had shoulders as wide as the inn’s doorframe, but I tossed him sixty paces as though he were nothing more than a paper doll. I had always been athletic and quick, but my new Gift of Enhanced Strength was incredible. Now I could probably best any of the Royal Guard in a contest of physical prowess.

The other guard hesitated a second too long.

I gripped his spear, wrenched it from his grasp, and swung it in a wide arc, slamming its butt into his ribcage. The man crumpled to the ground, clutching his side. I tossed the spear at him and strode into the inn without a backward glance.

Entering the common room, I was pleasantly surprised to find the Privy Council seated at a large round table in the center of the room. High Sheriff Wilfred, Treasurer Dask, General Marks, Trade Minister Carver, and High Chancellor Thorn were engaged in a heated discussion.

Heads snapped to the door as I entered.

All discussion froze.

I stood just inside the doorway and waited for their reactions. I was not disappointed.

The men were on their feet in a blink, offering respectful bows and words of condolence to their former Queen. Some glared openly at my golden gown, revulsion pouring through my Empathic Gift. I listened more to their emotions than their words, separating friend from foe. It was clearly time for new leadership within my Council.

“Good. You are all here,” I said smoothly. “Sit. We have much to discuss.”

The men looked at each other, confused.

Except Danai. He smiled and offered a congratulatory grin.

The men reluctantly settled back into their seats as I made a show of searching around the table. I asked innocently, “Where is my daughter? Should she not be here with the Council? She is Queen now.”

Wilfred’s mouth opened, but no words flowed out. He schooled his expression quickly, but his emotions gave him away.

“We don’t know, Your . . . Royal Highness,” the Sheriff said, clearly unsure which title to use.

For some reason, that amused me.

“Interesting. Two members of the royal family are assassinated, then you lose the new Queen? This is not going very well, gentlemen.” I turned to Captain Proctor standing behind the table by the bar. “Your job is protecting the Queen. Have you lost her, too?”

The massive man didn’t turn his head or make eye contact, but I could feel his disquiet. “She vanished in the night, Your Royal Highness. Along with our two Melucian guests.”

First shock, then rage overtook me.

Irina stirred.

“Melucians? What in Irina’s name were Melucians doing anywhere near my family? Are you people complete idiots? Does the number of soldiers streaming toward the border tell you nothing of our intentions toward our neighbor?”

Each of the men stared at the table, unwilling to meet my gaze.

Except Danai. He fought to hide another grin.

“Your . . . Majesty , the late King insisted these were simple war games. Surely, you can’t blame the men at Council for misunderstanding the Crown’s intentions?” Danai spread his hands wide. A trickle of amusement floated from him into me, and I resisted a smile of my own.

“Fine. Jess is gone. She has abdicated her responsibilities again— which means she has also abdicated her throne. From this point forward, until Kendall comes of age, I will assume the role of Queen Regent. The nation is at war, and a firm hand is required. Are there any objections?”

I looked from one man to the next until I’d made it around to Wilfred. The Sherriff shuffled uncomfortably in his seat and struggled to speak.

I cocked a brow. “Yes, High Sherriff? Something to say?”

The war in his mind was plain in his eyes. Through my Gift, I felt terror, grief, and . . . The man was hiding something. I almost laughed at the thought of him trying to keep secrets from me.

“Sebastiano, you have been a friend to the Crown for so many years. You practically helped raise our children. Your boy was even wooing my daughter,” I said in as soothing a voice as I could muster. “What are you not telling me?”

He looked away, then toward Danai, then to Bril.

“I am here , Sheriff.” My voice was a lash across his face. “Answer me. What are you not saying?”

“Jessia is Queen. She is your daughter. Please, don’t do this.”

I stared down. Of all the things . . . Sebastiano was loyal to Jess . That could not be. She was impetuous, impertinent, and every other quality a teenage girl possessed that made her impossible to tolerate. She could never be Queen. The thought was preposterous.

Then I realized it wasn’t Jess to which he clung. He saw her nature as clearly as the rest of us. I could not count the number of conversations he, Alfred, and I had had over the years, usually over a bottle or two of strong wine, in which we wrung our hands over the girl’s latest tantrum.

It wasn’t Jess he sought to cherish. It was the principle lawmen prized above all else: order.

Of course.

“Sebastiano, rest assured, we will do things the proper way,” I soothed. “Once this war is won, I will call a conclave of nobles to codify her abdication and Kendall’s ascension. The line of succession is sacrosanct and should remain so.”

His knuckles whitened as his fists balled on the tabletop, and his gaze hardened. When he spoke, his words began as a hoarse whisper and grew into a writhing storm. “You can’t be Regent. You murdered our King and Prince Justin. You should be arrested and tried for treason, not given power. You are a traitor to the Crown.”

I raised my right hand, palm upward, and a ball of magical flame appeared. It was a pinprick at first, but quickly grew to the size of a man’s head, swirling and licking like the hungry beast it was. I flicked my wrist and the ball divided in two, one darting toward the Sheriff and vanishing into his chest, while the other continued hovering above my hand.

The Sheriff’s eyes widened.

He leaped to his feet and tore at his gold-banded collar.

His eyes flew wide, and sweat erupted from his forehead. His pale face turned pasty white, then deep crimson.

A curl of smoke slivered out of one ear as the magical fire boiled him from inside.

Wilfred staggered and stumbled backward against the bar. Within seconds, his breath failed, and flames erupted across his face and chest, spreading to his dark shirt and cloak.

He fell to the floor and writhed in agony, screaming for someone to end his suffering with a quick death.

No one moved. Even Captain Proctor stood rigid, his face frozen in horror.

The Sheriff’s skin riddled with burns as flames raced from head to toe like some school of predatory fish devouring newfound prey. The putrid smell of smoldering flesh followed a sickening sizzle as his skin burned away.

I glared down at the dying man, my palm still filled with magical flame. “The fire will not kill you quickly. It burns deliberately, with a mind of its own, taking each organ to the brink of failure, yet leaving it alive, before moving to the next. Your heart will remain untouched, and magic will sustain you, but your eyes, your lungs, your skin—everything else will burn. Your blood will boil until every part of you teeters on death’s door. Only then will the fire consume your heart and release your spirit.”

I stared a moment, then casually turned back to the men seated around the table, each staring in shock. Even Danai’s face was ashen.

“The Sherriff’s objection is noted. Anyone else?” I asked, as if ticking off items on an agenda.

Still, no one spoke.

“Good. Now, to my wayward daughter.” I looked at Captain Proctor. “I do not want to see you again until Jess is standing in front of me.”

“But, Your Royal Highness . . .”

I flicked the ball of fire in my palm at the guard. He panicked and began beating at the flame that clung to his golden armor and spread across his bulky frame. A second later, I waved my hand and the fire vanished, leaving his armor and chest unharmed. He stared down at his unburned hands, trembling.

“Bring my daughter back to me, Captain,” I commanded through gritted teeth.

Proctor didn’t quite run out of the room, but he moved as quickly as his wounded dignity would allow without meeting the eyes of anyone else. When the door slammed behind him, I turned back to the wide-eyed men of my Council.

“No more talk of war games. Tonight, we discuss our invasion.”