Chapter 21

I just stare at him for several silent moments.

"How?" I breathe.

He frowns as if he doesn't understand the question. "They captured me, chemically forced me to mate with your mother, and then simply…never let me go."

I shake my head. "The experiments happened in Colorado."

He arches an eyebrow. "I must say, I thought you'd be more intelligent. They have airplanes. And mage-cuffs."

I shake my head again. "I'm just…stunned. Mage-cuffs? I thought they wouldn't work on a vampire. When I was cuffed, they…" I think back. "Well, I partitioned myself. And I'm a vaer, and they're not designed for me."

He regards me without expression. "For a vampire, mage-cuffs are especially vicious. Fae use magic. Shifters use magic. We vampires are magic. It is intrinsic to our existence." He rotates his arms upward from behind his back, over his head, and down in front—a series of sickening cracks accompanies the movement, and then, with a casual shrug, he re-locates his shoulders, and gestures with the mage-cuffs adorning his wrists. "I cannot take blood wearing them. But I also cannot escape into the madness of bloodlust. I have not tasted blood in…well…a few months longer than however old you are."

"Twenty years? You've been here for twenty years ?" I breathe.

"You would know better than I."

My eyes sting, burn. "That's…it's awful. I'm so sorry."

He tilts his head, curiosity on his face. "You weep for me?"

I blink hard. "I weep for what you have endured. Unless you're some kind of sadistic monster, no one deserves what you've gone through."

He bobs his head to one side. "I admit I wasn't always a moral paragon, but a sadistic monster? My pride would have me deny such descriptors." He lifts his cuffs and gestures at the door. "Care to free me?"

"Is it safe?" I ask.

He shrugs. "I feel quite controlled. Once the cuffs are off, I can't say how I shall react. Remove the ward but leave the cuffs, until a source is available. That would be my suggestion."

"What's your name?" I ask.

"Raphael Grindlay."

"Grindlay?" I think back to my first conversation with Aeldfar, and his claim that I am, somehow, genetically descended from Elias's mate as well—whom vampire culture would consider my grandmother.

He blinks. "You know the name?"

"Do you know who my mother was?"

His jaw tightens and his brow furrows. "Was?"

"She was murdered by the Tribunal a few months ago."

"My sympathies for your loss." He shakes his head. "I never knew anything about her other than her appearance. She was stunningly beautiful."

"For a fae?"

His answering snarl is vicious and dark. "No, child. For a person . She was a beautiful person . It is that kind of thinking that put me in this gods-and-blood-be-damned cell."

I smile at him. "That is the correct answer, Raphael."

His smile is slow, spreading across his face like flames licking across a piece of paper. "We have much to discuss, daughter. I admit, the taste of freedom tingles quite sweetly upon my tongue. If you will release me, I will tell you everything I know, and you shall have my life-long gratitude and loyalty."

I nod. "My name is Maeve…Father."

His smile becomes kind, almost gentle, transforming his severe, regal features. "I suggest that, for now, we simply use our names. I am your father, it is true, but to call me Father must be your choice."

I nod. "I appreciate that, Raphael." I look to the side, at the other two cells. "Tell me, what do you suggest I do about them?"

He sighs, frowning. "Free them. They are cuffed. But, like me, once the cuffs are removed…all bets are off, as the mortals like to say." He considers. "Have you dealt with Zirae? That is the monster in the mountain, Maeve."

I shake my head. "Not yet. But I'm looking forward to it."

His features turn vicious. "Not so much as I," he nods his head to the side, indicating the other cells. "Or them." He grins, and it's savage. "Turn us loose upon Zirae, and his cadre of guards."

Alistair leans close. "It's a good plan, Maeve," he murmurs.

I look at him. "Do you know him? Have you heard anything about him?"

He nods. "Indeed. Until his mysterious disappearance near the turn of the millennium, he was a prominent member of vampire society and a strong advocate for change in immortal society. I do not know if he was part of the various factions not just advocating for change but working for it."

I look at Raphael, who is listening intently and curiously, and then back to Alistair. "Can we trust him?"

Alistair lets out a slow, thoughtful breath. "I believe so. Carefully, of course. But he will be an invaluable ally and representative. His disappearance was always thought to be suspicious, especially considering how powerful he is." A pause. "The vampire community will listen to him. He can help bring them to our side."

Raphael frowns. "Your side?"

Alistair takes my hand and lifts it. "Maeve is the Once-Mortal Queen."

Raphael's eyes widen. "Truly?"

"More to the point, I'm going to destroy the Tribunal and the IRRC, and create equality in human society, between mortals and immortals."

It's the first time I've ever said it out loud, in so many words, and I realize for the first time how deep my conviction runs, how passionately I believe in that cause. The last month has solidified those beliefs and set fire to my hatred for the Tribunal.

Raphael drops to one knee, head bowed. "My queen. My daughter. Free me, and I will fight to my dying breath for your cause."

My eyes sting. I don't know what to say. What does a queen say when someone bows? I don't know how to be regal or majestic or whatever a queen is supposed to be.

"Stand up. Please." It's a whisper. So much for regal.

He rises. Looks past me. "A mark of fealty?" His eyebrows rise. "I would gladly take your mark, but the cuffs will nullify it."

"Once you're freed, then," I say, and take a breath, rolling my neck on my shoulders. "Here we go a-fucking-gain with the fucking wards ."

I call on my prana, forming into three needles, but before I can go any further, a commotion down the hall distracts me.

"Let go! I'm going! Ow, fuck, do you have to bite me? I said I'm going !" It's a female voice, irritated and irate.

I open my eyes to see Sierra, still in her wolf form, with a younger fae woman's wrist clamped in her jaws, blood trickling from where Sierra's teeth pierce her skin.

"Sierra?" I say, moving toward the scene. "What's going on?"

The fae doesn't bear my mark and seems otherwise unharmed. She's a bit older than Stirling, perhaps, visually late twenties, which means probably close to three hundred or so. She's dressed in a gray jumpsuit and isn't armed. She's short and very curvy, with a typically beautiful fae face, curly brown hair, and a pencil stuck behind her ear. She strikes me as an academic type.

Sierra drags the woman up to me, releases her wrist, and then sits on her haunches, licking blood from her mouth. She whines, yips, and then looks at Caleb, who has joined the rest of us in the hall—in fact, the hall is packed, I realize, with the majority of my little band of immortals.

Caleb's eyes flash amber light, and then he glances at me. "She says she found this fae hiding in one of the upper levels. She can bring down the wards, according to Sierra."

I frown. "I thought you couldn't communicate in your animal form."

"We can't communicate with anyone not in our pack." He frowns. "You aren't a shifter, and you aren't a fully bonded member of the pack yet, so you can't hear her."

"Oh, I see. I have questions about that, but we can talk about that later." I turn to the fae woman. "What is your name?"

She trembles. "WorldBreaker," she breathes. "My name is Belliah."

"Can you take down the wards, Belliah?"

She nods jerkily, eyes wide, hands shaking. "Yes. That is one my primary duties—bringing down wards and replacing them."

I breathe a sigh of relief. "God, that's amazing news. I've about had it with breaking the gods-be-damned things." I frown, wondering when I started using the curses of the elder fae.

Her eyes nearly pop out of her skull. "B-b-breaking? You… broke …a ward?"

Caleb barks a laugh. " A ward? She's broken all of them but these."

" All of them?" She seems like she's about to faint.

"Including the main gates. How do you think we got in?" Caleb asks with a smirk.

She looks at me. "You… brOKE …the wards around the main gates to the mountain?" She puts her face in her hands. "Those wards were woven by the six most powerful fae to ever live, over a thousand years ago."

"Yeah," I say, my tone wry. "They were a real bitch."

She bites her lip. "You really are the WorldBreaker."

I sigh. "I wish I knew what that meant." I gesture at the cells. "Free them, please, Belliah."

She quakes. "But…but…" Her eyes go to the…whatever they're called, the ones like me. "They'll…they're—"

"They're our concern, Belliah." I let my anger, the rage that seems to always be simmering in my belly, bleed into my eyes. "They've spent their entire lives as prisoners for no crime other than existing—and their very existence is a result of rape . Would you like to spend twenty fucking years in a twelve-by-twelve cell, mage-cuffed, deprived of prana, and without any human contact but that of the guards keeping you prisoner?"

She blanches, her eyes tearing up. "N-n-no. I…I thought they were dangerous."

"They are dangerous, Belliah, but only because they've been treated worse than animals in a fucking zoo."

"But if I take down the wards, won't they attack us?" she asks.

"A valid concern, I suppose. We won't remove the cuffs just yet, but the first step is the wards."

She swallows hard, eyes dropping to her feet. "Are you going to kill me?"

I roll my eyes. "As long as you don't do anything stupid, no. What I will do is offer you a choice."

I conjure the mark of fealty, which I can do easily now that I've done it once; the threads of the glamour are simple, and it's a fairly easy matter of weaving the threads of prana into the correct shape and imbuing it with my will and intent.

I extend it to her. "Take my mark of fealty, and join us in fighting for equality and inclusion, and an end to the primitive barbarity of the Tribunal. Or, don't. Simply remove the wards and leave. I will not stop you, and no one will harm you, as long as you offer us no threat or resistance."

Primitive barbarity? Where did that come from? Mother's Spirit, perhaps?

A thought for later.

Belliah looks at me, and then at the two poor, tragic, half-feral creatures. "I'm no fighter, ma'am."

Ma'am. She's over two hundred years older than me.

"Not everyone needs to be. If you can take down these wards, and any others we come across, that will free me to do the fighting. It's painful and exhausting, breaking wards, and I am growing to hate it. You'll be doing me a favor." I shrug. "And whatever comes after, we will likely have need of someone with your skills."

Belliah licks her lips, and looks at me, holding my eyes for a long moment, as if looking for something. I keep my gaze open and let her look.

After a moment, she extends a hand, hovers it over the mark of fealty glamour, hesitating with another long, searching look at my face, and then places her palm on the glowing white ball. It flares briefly, and then the white sparrow traced in gold inks itself onto the front and back of her jumpsuit.

She smiles hesitantly, looking around at the others gathered in the hall. "I'm one of you, now?"

I nod and extend my hand to her. "Welcome to my little army."

"The army of the Once-Mortal Queen, the WorldBreaker, First of the Vaer."

"Hail, Queen," a voice shouts—Fin.

It's echoed by everyone, becoming a chant, fists raised and pumping toward the ceiling.

I let it go for a moment, hoping my face doesn't show my insecurity, my doubt, my fear.

I raise my hands, and they quiet. "I just have one thing to say: Fuck the Tribunal!"

A wordless roar rises and shakes the very roots of the mountain.