Chapter Seventeen

Flora

I 'd no idea what to expect when we landed on top of the temple, a wide, flat space that could easily accommodate several dragons. I was prepared to beg, plead, and even fight the guards if they refused to give us shelter. I shifted back into my original body, not caring that my gown was in tatters and covered in Derrick's blood. My knees wobbled in relief when I saw Lady Cassandra, formerly Queen Ariadne Celsus, urgently waving us forward while holding open a heavy metal stairwell door.

I dug my fingers into Marius's arm, pointing toward Cassandra. "There!"

I clung to him while we moved forward, trying not to get trampled in the rush. I mouthed my thanks to Cassandra as we passed by, and she handed off the door to another witch while leading us down the stairs. Then she pressed on a hidden door within a wall on the landing, ushering us forward while everyone else continued down the stairs.

"I will bring him to our best green witch," she said, motioning toward Derrick, whose color had drained from his face. I feared we were too late, though I dared not voice it aloud. I couldn't lose my mate. I couldn't.

"Thank you, Cassandra." I worked hard to push out the words through a mouth drier than dirt and a throat constricted with emotion.

"And the queen," a burly voice said behind us.

I looked over my shoulder, scowling when I noticed Malvolia's lover followed after us, my limp sister in his arms.

"Of course," Cassandra said, flashing a tight smile.

Cassandra brought us to a small but comfortable bedchamber with a wide bed that took up most of the room, then she waved a witch in a light purple robe forward. I remembered all temple witches wore a varying shade of purple, so it was hard to tell their magical skills, but as soon as the witch sat down, green magic flowing from her fingertips, I knew that she was my mate's last hope. I swiped tears from my eyes while sitting at the end of bed. If only Tari was with us. She would heal her father in a matter of moments.

I scowled at Malvolia's lover when he loudly cleared his throat. He stood in the doorway, shifting from foot to foot while my sister moaned in his arms.

"The queen needs a healer, too," he said.

Cassandra went to him, frowning while she examined my sister. "Her injuries aren't life-threatening." When he made to protest, she interrupted him. "Come. We will get her into a warm bed, but the healers will be delayed until the gravely injured are saved."

Then Cassandra was gone, leaving the green witch, Marius, and me with Derrick.

The green witch was a young girl with dark skin and hair twisted in intricate weaves on top of her head. Her thick brows were knitted together, her breathing shallow as she hovered over my mate, magic spilling out of her.

Ignoring the shivers that coursed through me, I chewed my nails, worrying that her magic wouldn't be powerful enough to heal him.

Flora, we have to get you out of those clothes.

My gaze snapped to Marius who was sitting at the end of the bed. I'm not leaving Derrick.

I'm not asking you to. He stood, ruffling his wings. I'll find some clothes for you.

I turned my gaze back to Derrick's wound that still bled despite the green magic flowing into him. Fine.

Flora. His voice broke on a plea.

Clenching my jaw, I refused to look at him while rubbing warmth into Derrick's knee. You wouldn't save him.

I was protecting you.

My vision blurred with tears. Derrick would've died.

Derrick wanted me to keep you safe.

I jumped from my seat, bearing down on him with a snarl. "Do you know how many tears I cried for you?" I asked aloud, the cracks in my voice mirroring the fissures in my heart. "That I never stopped mourning you?"

He flinched then paled.

For almost twenty-four years I was the shell of the Fae I was before with only half of my heart beating, I projected through thought as my throat had tightened so much it hurt to speak. I turned from him, biting down on my knuckles to keep from crying out. Do you think I can survive such heartache again?

Flora. His plea echoed in my mind as he grasped my shoulder.

I jerked away from him, biting harder on my fist as silent tears fell. I hated how vulnerable he made me feel, how everyone I loved made me feel, and for the first time I envied Malvolia for her hardened heart.

Flora

AFTER CHANGING INTO warm robes, I climbed into bed beside Derrick, alarmed at his cold and clammy skin. Fire mages were naturally always warm. It was as if the fire had drained out of him. I wrapped my arms around him, wishing I could summon fire to warm him, but even if I transformed into a winged mage, it was all just an illusion. I still wouldn't be able to access fire magic. Where was Marius? He could warm his brother. I had sent a servant for him, and neither of them had returned. Was Marius angry with me after I'd turned my back on him earlier?

The green witch was asleep in a chair beside Derrick, having drained the last of her magic trying to heal his wound. His stomach was a grotesque mess of scars, but he no longer bled. I still wasn't sure if the green witch had saved him or just prolonged his demise. The thought that I still might lose him was a blade through my heart.

I shot up when the door cracked open, my shoulders slumping in disappointment when Lady Cassandra entered, quietly shutting the door behind her.

"Flora," she whispered.

I leaned against the headboard, cradling Derrick's head against my bosom. "What news have you from above?"

"The fire mages have prevailed for now," she said as she sat on the bed beside me. "The wyvern corpse has retreated." She visibly swallowed. "Along with his master."

I understood too well the horror reflecting in her eyes, for that master was Cassandra's former husband, the vindictive king who'd hunted her and her shifter sons, my daughter's mates. I feared if there was any trace of Fachnan left inside his corpse shell, he wouldn't stop until he enacted vengeance on Cassandra and her sons. I shuddered to think what that vengeance might be.

"Tell me." Cassandra cleared her throat while twisting the frayed end of her rope belt around her finger. "How were our children and grandchildren last you saw them?"

"Well." I forced a smile. "And how are you, Cassandra?"

She turned her gaze to her lap, a visible shudder rolling through her. "First, I was told he was dead, and now I hear he lives." Panic clung to her skin like a shroud.

"Fachnan is dead." I reached forward, squeezing her hand. "That abomination is not Fachnan."

She turned her hand in mine, squeezing so tight my fingers ached. "Did you see him?"

"Yes." I heaved a shaky sigh while turning my gaze to the door. Where was Marius? "And I don't think I'll ever be able to erase that horrible visage from my memory."

She pulled her hand from mine and sat back, her shoulders rigid. "Our walls are strong, but we won't be able to hold him off forever."

"Let us pray our children come to our aid before then."

I tensed when I heard heavy footsteps in the hall, for I feared if it was Marius, he would have harsh words for me. Whoever was outside kept walking. Where had my mate gone?

"Have you seen Marius?" I asked.

"Marius has taken charge." She motioned to the ceiling above us. "He's assigned mages to reinforce the battlements and protect the city."

I inwardly cringed, looking away. I'd been too hard on him when he'd been trying to protect me. Still, I didn't regret saving Derrick. I'd never regret trying to keep my family from fracturing again. "I should be there."

Cassandra flashed a warm smile while gently patting my hand. "You're exactly where you need to be." She nodded down at Derrick. "How is he?"

I turned my gaze on my mate. For over two decades he'd taken care of me and our daughters without complaint. He'd kept us safe while doing everything in his power to provide for us. He was my lover, my protector, and most importantly, he was my shoulder to cry on during the nights my heartbreak over Marius became too unbearable. What would I do without him?

"He lives." I squeezed his arm, wishing I could transfer some of my strength to him. "Though he's barely hanging on." I gave the green witch a withering look as she snored in her chair, her chin pressed against her chest, her arms limp by her sides.

"Wren is our best green witch," Cassandra said, "but she's not Tarianya."

"We need to summon my daughters." I blinked back my tears, trying hard to keep my composure, though inside I was dying, my heart unraveling like a frayed piece of string. "Can you find them in your mists?"

"We will try." She stood, smoothing her hands down her skirts. "Do you know where they are?"

"They were heading to the Fallax Islands." I worried my bottom lip, wishing I could sense them. "But they could be anywhere with Aurora with them." When Cassandra gave me a curious look, I added, "Our granddaughter can teleport."

"Oh, Elements!" She clasped her hands to her heart. "Our couriers won't fly to Fallax." Cassandra frowned, looking from Derrick to the door. "We can send word to Cyrene and Abyssus that Lord Derrick is gravely injured. I'm sure they'll show up at one of those places soon. In the meantime, Gadea and I will try to scry them." She heaved a loud sigh. "But her mists haven't been cooperating as of late."

Of course not. I knew after watching my grandmother's gray witches that the mists never cooperated when they needed them most.

"Thank you," I said as she made her way to the door.

She stopped at the doorway, clutching the side of the frame. "I thought you'd like to know Queen Malvolia suffered from hypothermia and a few broken ribs, but she is recovering and should wake soon."

"I don't care," I answered flatly, turning up my chin.

"I understand," Cassandra answered. The look that passed between us was so profound, I had an epiphany. Fachnan was her Malvolia. He'd hunted her and her sons, just as my sister had done to me and my girls. She probably understood me more than anyone.

Only her tormentor was now an undead monstrosity. And mine, I hoped she choked on her own blackened heart.

Flora

THE WORLD WAS BURNING . Demons with vacuous eyes crawled up the temple walls like spiders. They ripped off fire mages' wings and bit off their heads before discarding their lifeless bodies over the wall.

My sister was there, striking the demons with black smoke, but the smoke went right through their chests and out the other end, doing nothing but angering them.

Then she looked at me, her eyes cold and unfeeling. "You must sacrifice your daughters. It's the only way to stop them."

I looked down, and there were two sleeping infants in my arms. I knew them to be Tari and Shiri, though I thought my daughters had grown into women. Why were they babes again?

"No!" I stumbled back as the demons crawled toward me with hungry, red-eyed gazes, their mouths and razor-sharp teeth smeared with blood. My heart thundered in my ears as my soul was being crushed by a giant's fist. "You can't have them!" I backed up against my sister, giving her a pleading look. "Please, Mal, help me save them!"

But then her eyes turned bloodred, too. She laughed, shoving me into the awaiting arms of the demons.

I sat up with a gasp, sweat dripping down my brow as I struggled to make sense of my surroundings. I was in a cramped room, tucked beneath the covers of a wide bed. I rubbed warmth into my bare arms. I looked down at my thin shift as a chill swept through me, an unusual feeling, for I had always been used to Derrick keeping me warm, the fire in his veins heating the sheets beneath us. Derrick was too eerily still as he slept beside me. Candlelight flickered on a low table beside the bed, illuminating the lavender drapes hanging from the gray stone walls.

And then I remembered. The undead king and his wyvern.

I'd woke from one nightmare into another.

I pressed a hand to Derrick's brow, alarmed at his cold and clammy skin. The green witch was gone, and he was not yet healed. I had to find her and demand she finish what she started. Just as I'd thrown the covers off my legs, the door cracked open, and a familiar witch stepped inside, quietly closing the door behind her.

I scowled at Lady Veronica's disarrayed feather yoke. It had not fared well during the attack. Neither had she. Many of her necklace feathers were missing or broken, and her hair and clothes were disheveled. She had dark circles beneath her pretty, tapered eyes, her mouth draped in a frown. Good. She deserved to look like I felt.

"How is he?" she asked as she sat at the end of the bed.

"Alive, for now." I swallowed back my unease. If I lost him... "Where is the green witch?"

"She used all her strength healing him." The witch gave me a pitying look. "Lady Cassandra insisted she rest."

I stiffened, anger boiling my veins. "She needs to return." They couldn't leave Derrick like this.

"She will after she's rested. She's no good to you now." Lady Veronica twisted her fingers in her lap, a look of guilt in her eyes.

The bitch. I clenched my hands into claws, sorely tempted to scratch out her eyes. "You saw this coming."

She raised her gaze to mine, and the pain I saw reflecting in her eyes nearly took my breath away. "I did. I'm sorry."

I swallowed back the burning knot in my throat. "Why didn't you stop it?"

She visibly swallowed. "Because the alternative would've been worse."

"What alternative?"

"The monster would've attacked Delfi, killing soldiers and citizens." Her knuckles whitened as she clenched fistfuls of her skirts. "He was injured in the battle yesterday. Not enough to kill him, but enough for him to need a few days to recover, which will buy us some time."

I smoothed trembling hands down my legs. "Until my daughters get here?"

She abruptly stood. "I've said enough."

I jumped from the bed, advancing toward her. "You haven't said nearly enough." I towered over the smaller witch. "What else have you seen?"

She turned her gaze to the floor. "Many things."

I gently grasped her shoulders. I had to know else I'd go mad with worry. Would my mates live? Would my daughters? "Will you tell me?"

She looked up at me, her eyes glossy with unshed tears. "We don't speak what we see for fear it won't come to pass."

Who was we? "Can you offer me any reassurances?"

The color drained from her face. "It will get worse, much worse, before it gets better."

My knees weakened. "Will we prevail?"

I wasn't reassured when she averted her gaze. "I have seen two outcomes."

I dug my fingers into her shoulders. "And?"

"In one Shiri and Tarianya destroy the demons."

"And in the other?" I rasped.

Lady Veronica swayed, looking ready to collapse in my arms. "And in the other we are consumed by the fire."

Megaera

Demon sorceress

most revered and feared of the Lamashtu Clan

MEGAERA PACED THE FLOOR to her cavern bedchamber, wearing a path in her plush carpet while ignoring the pathetic cries of her future meals that hung from the wall while rattling their chains—humans that were too weak or old to fight. She preferred to feast on young women and children, but she needed every able-bodied human for her army, so the infirm and elderly would have to do, though their meat wasn't as fresh and tasty.

She spun around as footsteps echoed outside her bedchamber. Her nostrils flared when she smelled the warm, delicious Ravini blood nearby. Using her third eye, she spied Gordin, as he was known by his unfamiliar name, her highest-ranking spymaster in the adjoining tunnel gathering the courage to pull back the drape.

"You may enter," she called to him.

Gordin pulled back the drape and quickly crossed the room to her. He was a Naraka, or an incubus as mortals called them, living in the body of a once noble and proud Ravini Fae, having easily accepted his host after fleeing Malvolia's Crimson Tide twenty-four years ago. He was big and strong, with an impressive wingspan. One side of his face appeared like a melted ball of wax, his ear and hair missing after a confrontation with Malvolia's mages, but that was his only flaw. Otherwise, he was a perfect specimen who didn't mind Megaera's ugly canine face, birdlike feet and hands, saggy breasts and paunch, or the stench from her crotch when she demanded to be pleasured. Even better, he had the ability to teleport, bringing her information from her spies all across the world within minutes. She had oftentimes thought about killing him and stealing his magic for herself, but as long as he remained useful and loyal, and continued to do that thing with his tongue, she would let him live.

He reverently bowed, his wings tucked in nicely behind him. As usual, he was shirtless, revealing a well-toned chest and abs. "Mistress, forgive my intrusion."

She waved away his concern, pleased with his groveling. Everyone called Megaera Mistress, for they didn't know her by any other name. They never would. For to do so was to subject herself to an eternity of miserable servitude. A demon never revealed her true name to anyone, even when compelled by magic, for they were spellcast to resist the siren's call. Only torture could extract their names.

There was only one other demon she trusted with her true name, her twin, Empusa. Having shared a womb, they had been born knowing each other's names. The bitch who'd conceived them expected them to devour one another at birth, but they'd combined their magic while still in the womb, clawing their way out of their bloody cocoon and feasting on their mother's remains. They had made a pact in infancy that they would protect one another for an eternity, and that's what they had done. When Megaera had wormed her way into this world, it was always her intention to bring Empusa with her. Empusa hadn't been able to come through the portal in her demon form, for it had closed before her sister could join her. But Megaera had found a way to bring her sister here by infecting a Fae infant with her blood. Now that Fae infant was a full-grown noblewoman with powerful magic who would soon join her, for she sensed Empusa's presence nearby.

Megaera rubbed her talons together. "What news do you have from the front?"

Gordin stiffened, focused on a spot beyond Megaera's shoulder. "Our spies report Thebes's attack against Peloponese has failed, and they have sought refuge at Kyan's Temple."

She let out a low growl. "How did Malvolia lose when Fachnan's dragons have fled?"

Gordin looked at her, then quickly turned his gaze to the floor. "Shamadi has a new body, a wyvern."

"No." Her top lip pulled back, and she flashed her rotting fangs. "Who has given him so much power?"

Gordin visibly swallowed. "The demon now known as Fachnan."

Damn him. "Do we know the demon in Fachnan yet?"

"No, Mistress." Gordin shook his head. "Our spies report he may be a metamorphi."

Megaera sucked in a hiss through her teeth. "Metamorphis cannot be trusted, and they're harder to wield. I have worked too hard to gain control over this world. I will not let Shamadi and this metamorphi take it. I need leverage over him."

"You do have leverage." The melted side of Gordin's face barely moved as the other side pulled back in a slanted smile. "Shamadi is injured. Our spies say it may be fatal."

Megaera let out a purr of satisfaction. "Has Peloponese no green witches?"

"All Fae have fled Peloponese."

Megaera was pleased. Though the elements didn't favor demonkind, they had no control over their fates, and Megaera would use it to her full advantage. "Then send a tribe of demonlings to Shamadi and this demon king. Tell them they must swear a blood oath to me if they want our help."

Gordin arched his one good brow. "Hasn't Shamadi already sworn a blood oath?"

"Years ago." Megaera crossed over to the iron table beside her bed, pouring herself a goblet of blood wine. "The oath became void after he entered Selig's body. No one blood bound to me can summon a metamorphi without my permission." Of course, she failed to mention that Thorin had always found a way to defy her. His magic was stronger than her bond, but he was a rare mage.

"Yes, Mistress." Gordin bowed his acquiescence, though she sensed his hesitation.

She took a slow sip of wine while leering at him over the rim of the goblet. "What?"

"Our spies also report Malvolia has reconciled with her sister."

"No!" She tossed her goblet against the stone wall, enjoying how her human meals quavered when it splattered crimson liquid across the cavern. "Thorin's spells must be wearing off."

Which meant Thorin's mortal body was weakening. He had served her well, sewing the seeds of discontent across the Fae lands for the past twenty-four years, even though he unwittingly thought he was doing so for his own benefit. He had bought her enough time to grow her army while the Fae monarchs bickered amongst themselves, keeping their eyes off the goings on in the human lands. But now the mind spinner had outlived his usefulness. It was time to kill him and take his power for herself.

"Summon another tribe of demonlings to retrieve the mind spinner," she grumbled.

She was pleased she still had four tribes of demonlings, no easy feat, for each demonling tribe had their own queen. The difficulty was in keeping the tribes separated. She'd already lost a dozen tribes after they'd waged brutal wars against each other, for in their simple minds, there could only be one queen. Megaera had tried to supplant herself as their queen to no avail. She ruled the demonlings through persuasive magic and the promise of mannus, a special flower that produced a euphoric honey. After Megaera had seized control of the cavern where mannus was most abundant, controlling the demonlings had become much easier, though Megaera understood all too well the poisonous creatures would turn on her if they could.

He nodded. "I will personally summon the demonlings, but you should also know Flora, Derrick, and Marius have retreated to the temple in Windhaven with Malvolia."

"Perfect." She licked her fanged maw in anticipation. "The white witches will come to their aid."

"In the meantime," Gordin continued, "the queen has deposed the Lord of Elisi. The entire Northern Shore from Windhaven to Elisi is defenseless. Now would be a good time to strike Elisi. The ships are ready, Mistress. They await your or—"

"Enough!" She held up a silencing hand. Gordin had forgotten his place in giving her directions. "Tell them to hold."

He quirked his one good brow. "Mistress?"

She snapped her gaze to his, snarling until he lowered his shoulders and his gaze. "I won't go to war against the white witches without leverage."

"We have leverage." He looked up at her like an eager mongrel begging for scraps. "The white witches will be focused on the metamorphi and Shamadi, and they are no match for our undead army."

She shook her head. "You underestimate their combined power, and I refuse to take any risks. The portal is almost ready." She inwardly smiled while thinking of the treasure trove of hair she'd discovered in that brush—strands from all the Avias women, even the tasty little children. "Soon, I will have two very good reasons for the white witches to surrender."