16. Melisandre

16

MELISANDRE

M y hand slammed down on the magic mirror, shattering it.

Damn that angel. That demon.

And especially damn Gwyneira.

She’d escaped the dark. She’d escaped my spell again . And now she’d destroyed the Huntsmen I’d sent to stop her—including that Huntsman, broken toy though he had been.

How the hell did that brat still manage to survive?

I wrapped my hand around the sword that lay on the table beside me. The grotesque emblem upon its hilt hadn’t warped or twisted recently—because of course it had not. That had been merely my imagination.

And to every hell with the Voidborn who swore I was going mad.

My hand tightened. I could be rid of the thing. But it would be infinitely more satisfying to keep it just long enough to ram the ugly blade straight through that annoying girl’s ribs.

“The Nine have changed course,” one of the Voidborn hissed and clicked at me.

“Forget the damned Nine !” I flung a hand out, crushing the Voidborn-possessed shifter who had dared to speak.

The creature howled and died. The other Voidborn recoiled, a rumble of discontent passing through them.

Ignoring them, I looked back down at the sword. Damn those imbecilic Voidborn and their obsession with a fairytale. I knew Gwyneira had changed course. The Voidborn among her people still whispered of where they were going, so I hardly needed the information repeated to me now.

And besides, didn’t they understand it scarcely mattered what Gwyneira and her band of misfit creatures were, much less where they went? I had plans within plans, and no matter how many obstacles that child survived, in the end she would still die.

My lips curled into a cold grin.

It took a moment for my reflection to smile back.

I tensed. That… that had been my imagination. A glitch of my attention caused by too long enduring the presence of fools. I needed rest. Perhaps to feed on another commoner—or a lord, since their blood was all the sweeter from their diet of fine foods. That was all.

Drawing myself back up, I turned my focus resolutely to the map on my table.

The bowl of apples burst into flame.

I gasped, recoiling. Swiftly, I spun, searching for the witch or sorcerer responsible. “Don’t just stand there, you fools!” I snapped at the Voidborn, pointing at the bowl. “Put out the fire!”

“Fire?” one of them hissed.

Red apples glistened in the glass bowl, untouched by any trace of flames.

I stared, my chest heaving. “There… they…”

Dark, mocking laughter echoed in the distance. Familiar laughter.

I bit back a snarl, my eyes raking the room. This was a trick. Some ploy of the Voidborn to destabilize me. But it wouldn’t work. No matter what they tried, I knew Alaric was dead.

The laughter grew louder.

Dammit, Alaric. Was. Dead.

Something moved at the corner of my eye. I whirled, fangs bared.

On the far end of the room, the gilded frame of my mirror hung. The glass lay shattered on the floor beneath it, same as it had for days now.

I didn’t know who had destroyed it. Perhaps a servant or maybe the Voidborn themselves after I left to capture Gwyneira in the mountains, back before that brat of a girl drove me into the empty realms. I scarcely cared, since the Voidborn no longer used it to speak to me.

But now, glints of light caught my eye on the thick rug beneath the mirror’s frame.

Growling low, I stalked closer. I’d forbidden anyone into my chambers, with the exception of the Voidborn and that idiot steward, Harran—and while the former wouldn’t dream of cleaning this room, the latter was too terrified to even try. Thus, shards of glass no bigger than my palm lay scattered about, reflecting the stone ceiling pointlessly.

Except now… they didn’t.

In every shard, the ceiling’s reflection drowned beneath swirling fog as the glass grew dark and murky.

Just like it had when the Voidborn used it to communicate with me.

A face began to emerge from the fog. Alaric’s hissing voice surrounded me. “You made a mistake, pet.”

Snarling, I recoiled from the glass. “I know you’re doing this,” I spat at the Voidborn-possessed monsters behind me. “How dare you continue to play games with me?”

Their faces were inscrutable. Cursing them, I spun back, raising my hand to smash the glass shards.

The glass reflected only the stone ceiling again.

My heart pounded. This was a trick. All of it. The Voidborn resented me, and so they thought to play with my mind.

The sword quivered in my hand. When I looked down, the blade’s surface was dark and swirled with fog.

What in the?—

A timid knock came at the door. “Your Majesty?”

I shrieked, flinging my hand at the thick wood. My chamber door exploded into kindling.

Surrounded by shattered wood, Harran blinked in shock. Only the idiotic gods knew how the destruction hadn’t turned him into a pin cushion.

“What?” I demanded.

“Th-the lords are here, my queen.”

I scowled. Of course they chose now to arrive. Never mind that I’d ordered them here. They chose to present themselves together like a collection of rabbits pretending to be wolves, thinking their numbers would serve as intimidation.

They’d learn differently soon.

My eyes twitched toward the shards of the mirror. Nothing stirred in the reflection. And on the blade, no trace of fog or darkness remained.

This was the Voidborn’s trickery.

But they wouldn’t win.

“I will see the so-called lords now,” I snapped at him over my shoulder. “But be certain my instructions are followed to the letter by the kitchen staff.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” Harran bolted for the servants’ stairway as fast as his old legs could carry him.

“You should be embracing my power.”

I froze at the sound of Alaric’s voice again. My eyes darted around, landing at last on the blade.

The grotesque face on the hilt curved its gaping mouth into a devilish grin.

Rage surged within me. “Get out,” I snapped at the Voidborn. “Now!”

The creatures paused, glancing at one another questioningly rather than obeying.

A twist of my fingers had them screaming as they died.

“Or should I say,” Alaric commented as their cries faded, “embracing more of it.”

I looked down at the sword again. “What is this? Did you hide in the blade?”

Alaric chuckled. Between one eye blink and the next, the face on the hilt snapped back to its ordinary appearance.

But the mirror shards were gray again.

“Do you remember, pet?” he mused. “How our power twisted and formed you into this? Why do you hide from it now?”

“I hide from nothing, ” I snarled.

His chuckle made me stalk back toward the mirror. In the shards, the gray fog gave way to his face. He didn’t look the same as when I killed him. No, he looked like when I first met him after escaping the empty realms. His skin was once again made of silver scales. His face was blunt like an eel’s, with only slits for his nostrils.

“Once upon a time, you were unafraid of us.”

“I am not afraid!”

He grinned, his mouth full of metallic fangs. “Prove it. Remember how you reached across the miles without ever leaving this room. Remember how you bent the world based on your will alone.”

My teeth ground. “I still do.”

“Really? A few apples. A few trees.” He scoffed. “You’ve barely scratched the surface of what you could do.”

An angry sound escaped me. Damn these Voidborn for trying to toy with me. How they’d continued their ruse when none of them even remained in this room, I wasn’t certain. But I would cease bothering with it immediately, and I sure as all hell wouldn’t let them succeed in thwarting me.

Alaric’s inhuman face turned taunting. “Or admit you are going mad, not from power but from fear.”

My fingers curled into a fist. I shouldn’t respond to him. This was merely a trick.

“I know you’re afraid, pet.”

To hell with it. “I fear nothing.”

He merely regarded me in mocking silence.

My fists shook. They thought me afraid and weak, these Voidborn fools who taunted me with false visions? They thought my power was a joke?

I’d show them.

Whipping around, I strode from the room and stalked through the corridors, silently summoning more of the Voidborn bastards to join me in the main dining hall. My servants had made quick work of the preparations, arraying a feast on the long table that served as the center point of the room. Chandeliers hung overhead, resplendent with candles and crystals, while gold-lined plates filled the long spread beneath them, awaiting the delicacies that would emerge from the kitchen when I gave the order.

The Voidborn mocked, but they understood nothing. Victory was mine.

And only one food would be served tonight.

“Queen Melisandre of Aneira,” announced the servant at the door when I entered, and to his credit, the man’s voice only shook a little.

Around the table, the lords looked over at me. Several tried to stand up out of respect, only to be tsked and tugged down by their glaring counterparts.

Arrogant fools. As if their displeasure could possibly matter.

“You think to host a party as your city lies in ruins, queen ?” called a lord near the head of the table. His thinning, gray strands were slicked over the top of his balding head, each one desperately trying to portray itself as being still among all its brethren, rather than a lonely, useless pretender to a crown of hair. Like all the other lords here, he wore robes that likely cost more than a peasant family would see in its lifetime, trimmed by luxurious furs and threads of gold. Though I knew he hadn’t earned his title—it was an inheritance, same as many others here, and privately the king had confessed the man irritated him to no end—he was still the lord of a powerful province in the Aneiran economy. His position at the table would have been one of honor in the late king’s court.

I scarcely cared enough to bother remembering his name.

“I think to do as I wish, Lord Antieron,” I replied, pacing past the long line of foolish men on my way to the chair at the head of the table. “And I wish to speak to those who believe themselves in charge of this nation. Are you suggesting there is someone more important to whom I should speak?”

The man scowled, giving a harrumph of displeasure. But he could hardly argue, since doing so would simply make him look like even more of a fool.

I suppressed a smile. “Very well then.” Turning, I seated myself at the head of the table, eliciting several more disgruntled looks from the lords. By their view, I should have left this seat empty, awaiting whatever next male would take the late king’s position.

Aneira would never have another ruler besides me. Neither would this world.

A spiral of darkness drew my eye to the empty metal goblet before me. Alaric’s grinning face swirled into view on its side. “But you only scratch the surface, pet. Remember how it could be.”

Snapping my eyes back to the lords, I tossed a napkin over the goblet, smothering him. “Gentlemen,” I said calmly. “I am certain it has escaped none of your notice that our nation was recently under attack.”

“ Was ?” Lord Antieron looked at his fellow lords incredulously. “You sit here surrounded by these things, looking halfway on the path to being one of them, and you dare to claim the attack has ceased?”

Around the room, the orcs and other Voidborn-possessed creatures shifted position slightly, hissing-clicks passing between them, and though I knew the lords did not understand a thing, several of the men still glanced around warily.

I smiled. “These things , as you call them, answer to me now. I took command of them from the one who dared to torch our fair city, and now they do as I wish.” At my glance, the Voidborn stepped forward.

Alaric’s voice was muffled. “But how much more could they do?”

My smile unfazed, I shoved the goblet off the edge of the table, ignoring it as it clattered to the floor. “So yes, Lord Antieron, I say the attack has ceased. I willed it so. And as for your insinuation that my appearance is somehow not becoming of a fair queen, well…”

My fangs slid past my lips.

Lord Antieron recoiled while around the room, several lords gasped, and others shoved to their feet. They raced for the door only to find it locked and bolted from the outside.

From the goblet on the floor, Alaric’s muffled laughter rose.

In spite of myself, my lip twitched. Illusion or not, that dead Voidborn bastard had a point. It was amusing to watch the vermin run.

“You trap us here?” one of the lords demanded, a note of panic beneath his polished tone.

“Deceiver,” Lord Antieron spat.

I made a dismissive sound and then gestured to the Voidborn-possessed creatures beside a small door to my right. One of them pushed past the opening, returning a few moments later leading several servants who carried silver trays.

Each platter held a mound of glistening red apples.

The effect on the room was immediate. Even the lords trying to escape past the locked doors suddenly paused, their gazes fixing upon the glistening fruits.

In silence, the servants placed the platters on the table and then left the room.

“What… what is this?” Lord Antieron asked, his attention also transfixed by the fruits. His face twitched as if he was at war with himself while his fingers wrapped around the ends of the arms of his chair, digging into the plush velvet.

“My answer to your impolite questions.” I glanced at the lords. “Eat, gentlemen. Far be it from me to stop you.”

Several of them snatched the apples, shoving the fruits into their mouths. Others hesitated, struggling to resist the lure.

Alaric’s voice was tiny, coming from a sliver of reflection on a fork at my side. “This is barely the beginning of what you could do, pet.”

But this was so satisfying.

I smiled as I watched the annoying noble wage a war with himself. Lord Antieron’s hand shook as he reached for an apple, but then his other hand grasped his wrist as if he was fighting to keep from taking the fruit. “Y-you… you trick us. Monster . You manipulated us into?—”

His eyes flicked to the others as, around the room, the lords started to choke. Alarm spread over the lord’s face.

I lifted one of the apples and placed it in his outstretched hand. Relief and horror battled in his expression. In spite of himself, he drew the fruit toward his mouth.

“Oh, on the contrary, Lord Antieron,” I said while he bit down. Ecstasy filled his eyes as the apple took effect, transforming him into my pawn. “I’m no monster, and I’m hardly a manipulator.”

Alaric scoffed from the cutlery.

Ignoring him, I didn’t take my eyes from the lord. “I simply make the world work the way it should work. No fear. No compromise. Better than any monster, witch, or mere human could dream. In reality, I think you’ll find—” I leaned back in my chair, watching the pretentious bastard fall to the ground. “—I’m the fairest of them all.”