Chapter 27

CHAPTER27

Abraxas knew it would be smart to calm Lore down before they approached the castle. But his horse was skittish the moment he swung his giant leg over its side. The forest worked against them, and Lore herself seemed more grumpy than usual.

And if he was being honest with himself, he didn’t want her to go into this meeting calm. He wanted her to be angry at Margaret, to force the older elf to see just what her nonsense had wrought.

He also liked the idea of seeing Lore at her worst in a moment like this. She’d been holding herself so honorably the last few days and he knew they should all fear the avenging goddess version of her would kill them all. But the more he thought back to that battle the two of them had fought together, the more he realized she had become justice for this kingdom. He’d make sure it didn’t tear her apart.

And so he kept his mouth silent. He kept his words to himself and his thoughts quiet so that Lore could think and prepare herself for this battle of words that would set the pace for the rest of their journey in this kingdom.

Margaret would wait for them. The witch was probably waiting even now, knowing that they were moving toward her castle and placing themselves where Margaret wanted them.

The elf was nothing if not ready for every situation. He remembered how easily she had planned to destroy a king and upend him from his throne. He only hoped that Lore remembered as well. This would not be an easy battle of words.

He could only hope it became a real battle so he could taste the blood on his tongue once again.

The castle loomed in front of them, and he had forgotten how sinister it was. Dark stones that ringed the castle were now stained with black watermarks that leaked from the top. The clouds above it loomed heavy and dark, filled with water that would soon rain down upon them. Perhaps thunder rolled in the distance, or that was merely his heart kicking in his chest as he remembered all the terrible things that had been done here. All the suffering he had endured.

“Are you ready?” Lore asked, her voice floating over to him like a salve on a wound.

“No,” he replied. “That place is cursed. Only terrible beings live within it and even worse acts are committed there. I am not surprised she was corrupted within those walls.”

“Ah, but Margaret was corrupted long before she walked into that castle. She’s been planning this for a very long time, Abraxas.” Lore leaned forward, the reins loose in her hands as she balanced her elbow on the pommel of her saddle. “She lied to me. To all of us. She made us think we were safe and that our futures would flourish in her hands. Instead, she opened up this world to another war. I am tired of it.”

There was that anger he adored so much. The anger that had pushed her to come back here and to see what their people had wrought in the kingdom she had gifted them.

He sat up straighter in his saddle, staring ahead at their goal, and nodded. “Perhaps you should remind her how she won this kingdom in the first place. Make her see who she has to thank for the throne she sits upon.”

Lore’s gaze turned hard and flinty. “It seems as though she has forgotten that, yes.”

“And I believe she has forgotten who lived in that castle for hundreds of years.” Abraxas tapped his fingers on his knee, watching the movement of guards along the top peaks of the castle, certain that none of them knew the secrets he did. At least not yet. “Would you like to arrive unannounced?”

“It would leave a lasting impression if it seemed that we appeared out of thin air.”

“Could you do that without me, you think?” He was curious now. If she could teleport and bring herself all the way to that throne room without him, it wouldn’t be all that surprising.

Lore tilted her head to the side, considering his words. “Perhaps? I’m not sure how I would do it without splitting myself in two.”

“Then it’s a good thing I’m here,” he replied before swinging off his horse. He’d let the beast find its way home on its own. The deepmongers always trained their mounts very well, for the rare moments when they used them.

Lore followed him with ease. And then watched him expectantly, as though she already knew this would turn in a direction that she might find intriguing. “What’s your plan, dragon?”

“Ah, nothing all that grand. I merely wish to see what they have done with my hoard.” He tilted his head back and took a deep breath in through his nose, already scenting the gold on the air. “Considering most of it was melted, I believe it is very likely that it is still where I left it.”

“Your hoard with the hidden entrance into the king’s chambers,” she whispered. “Zander hid that entrance very well.”

“He didn’t want anyone but his most trusted to know where it was. Therefore, no one but himself and me remembers where it was. And it would be rather difficult to find, considering the spell that hid it was created by a master magician who the world has never seen the likes of again.”

He held out his hand for her to take and then drew her through the edge of the forest. They stayed out of sight, making sure no one could warn Margaret that they were already here.

The waterfall still bubbled merrily, a mockery of what it hid behind it. Though it took them longer to walk up to his hoard in their current forms. But he still smelled gold in the air and gemstones buried beneath. He remembered when this had been the only thing holding him together. That the mere thought of such a hoard had given him peace.

Now, he wondered when he would build another. Or if perhaps he would have the opportunity to take what wealth he had already built.

Guiding Lore up a rather large boulder, he tumbled into the hoard with her, sliding over the molten gold and realizing it didn’t matter. He would build another hoard. Perhaps something less metallic and easily melted. Someday he would have a collection of new items to be proud of. A new gathering of objects that brought him peace.

Because this no longer brought him any happiness at all.

Lore stood in the center of it, right where Beauty had tried to hide in her golden gown, and grinned. “It is as beautiful as I remember.”

“It is useless,” he grumbled, kicking a rather elaborate crown away. “And it will all fade someday. Just like the rest of me.”

“But not our legend. Not the elf and the dragon who changed the fate of this kingdom. The goddess and her dragon who tore her from the sky.” Lore’s lips twisted as she looked at him. “Now, we get to decide what legend the rest will be. Do you want to be the villain? Or the hero?”

His heart thudded in his chest and he knew what she was asking. Would he want anyone to remember this thusly? He didn’t know. He didn’t care how anyone remembered him as long as they remembered that he was devoted to her.

Abraxas shook his head. “Lady of Starlight, I care not for what anyone thinks of me but you.”

“Then let’s go meet with a rather evil woman and prove who the real villain is in our story. If they remember her as such, then we have won.”

Together, they climbed up the cliff’s edge that led to the small platform where Zander used to stand. Where Lore herself had sat after a bridal trial, holding what she wasn’t supposed to hold.

All these memories filled this place. This was where he had first met his dearest friends and those who would change the course of his life.

Together they slipped through the cold passageway with wind that whistled down from Zander’s personal quarters. And when they stood in front of the door, he pressed a finger to his lips and listened for anyone on the other side.

They were alone. No one stood in Zander’s bedroom, and that worked exactly as they had hoped it would.

They slipped through the shadows of the castle like they were born to it. Abraxas remembered all the hidden passageways that the servants still likely used, and he hid her to their advantage. No guards saw them. No one suspected that people were watching them from within the walls and through the eyes of paintings or tapestries.

And when they finally reached the Great Hall, he could hear Margaret’s soft voice speaking all too convincingly.

“We need to find them,” the Darkveil elf called out. “I know you do not see the value in it, but if Lorelei and her dragon are in this kingdom, then they need to be brought here. I will not tolerate any more of their meddling.”

“Understood.” The clacking sound that followed made him think the soldier had clicked his heels together. “I will find them.”

“You said that last time. Do I need to remind you what the threat is? That I will not tolerate any more failure.”

“No, my queen.”

Lore looked at him and mouthed, “Queen?”

Much had changed indeed. Wait until Zephyr heard that Margaret was calling herself queen now.

Abraxas gestured for Lore to walk into the room in front of him. He’d make sure no one attacked her from behind. And if they did, he would explode into a dragon and devour them all in an instant.

Not that she needed him to protect her. He did because it helped his ego, and she allowed him to do so because she knew he wanted to.

Lore slammed the doors open so hard they hit the walls and shuddered with the force of her anger. He waltzed into the room behind her, the same massive columns and pillars lining a long walkway all the way to a throne. With an elf draped over it as though she had been born to sit there.

“Margaret,” she called out. “I don’t think you need to threaten any more of the few elves that remain alive. I’m already here.”

He had the distinct pleasure of seeing the Darkveil elf’s face go pale before she controlled herself. “Lorelei.”

“In the flesh.”

“And your dragon has come with you, I see.” Margaret’s gaze turned to him, and he felt as though she were trying to pull him apart with a single look. “I thought you had gone to the dragon isles to seek your end.”

“Clearly, I survived.” He swept into a low, mocking bow. “You have set yourself on a cursed throne, I see.”

A muscle jumped in her jaw as he watched, and then Margaret dismissed him. She didn’t want to talk about what she’d done, but ah, that was what they were here for.

“So the goddess returns to us,” Margaret called out. She swung her legs off the arm of the throne and stood, holding her arms wide as though she’d been waiting for Lore this entire time.

“I am what you made me,” Lore replied, accepting the term goddess in a way he hadn’t expected.

What game was his elf playing?

Arching a brow, he folded his arms over his chest to watch what happened between two old elves who had seen far too much.

“I’m glad you have not forgotten who made you a goddess.” Margaret’s words sliced through the air. A band of elves moved forward from behind pillars, all standing behind her while wearing ancient regalia. They were clearly from individual clans who had all come to support Margaret’s claim to the throne.

They looked like the elves of old. Smooth faced and wearing clothing that Abraxas somehow remembered. Clothing that was equally lovely and terrifying in the runes that were stitched across each of them. He’d forgotten how terrifying the elves could be.

Half of them were soldiers, the other half nobility who were here in the castle. Where they had always wanted to be. Where they thought they were owed an audience with whomever sat upon that throne.

Lore tilted her head back and laughed. “Oh, you did not make me a goddess! You threw me to the wolves. Your plan was never to keep me around for very long, now was it? Margaret, you think I do not know that you would have fed me to death itself, even if you had to cut up my still warm body?”

“I knew who you were, and I made sure you became what you could become.”

“You guessed.” Lore bared her teeth. “You sacrificed me at an altar of war and then you left me to rot. You thought it was over when I died, but it wasn’t. I returned and then you sent me away on an impossible mission to save a dragon on an isle that should not exist. And then you defiled what I won for you. This is not how my kingdom should be led!”

“Your kingdom?” Margaret barked out a laugh. “This is not your kingdom, little girl. We have been here for much longer than you have and we have been fighting for this kingdom before you even drew breath.”

“Oh, but this kingdom is my home and I don’t think it’s ever been your home. Has it?” Lore’s entire posture changed. Suddenly she was more aggressive, larger, her whole body tense with the need to fight. “You have forgotten much as well, Darkveil. Though perhaps you put me on this path, you were not the one to give me any of this power.”

“Power I have yet to see.”

Margaret was baiting her. Margaret wanted to see what they were dealing with and if Lore was actually the half elf from the prophecies. Abraxas almost whispered for Lore to stop moving, to do nothing in response, but he didn’t need to.

His starlit beauty merely shook her head in disgust. “You don’t get that answer.”

“I will have it. Prove that you are who you say you are.”

“You will stop what you’re doing. You will let the humans go, and they will elect a leader to meet with you. We should work together in building this kingdom to the glory it deserves.”

But Margaret had to push. Of course she did. “I will do no such thing. And you will crawl back to your little hovel and keep your nose out of the business of the full-blooded elves.”

Right, well. He wouldn’t be able to hold her back now if he tried.

Abraxas sighed and looked up at the glass ceiling they’d fixed. Apparently, he’d thought the same direction as Lore, because she lifted her hands and gestured for the elves to look up as well.

And then she pulled the moon in front of the sun.

The light turned red. Her power crackled in the air and every breath fogged as sudden icy rage flowed out between them all. For the first time, they were catching a glimpse of Lore’s true power. And it was utterly terrifying.

“You will stop what you’re doing.” Lore’s voice snapped through the air like a whip, and a few of the elves even flinched away from her. “Or I will return and destroy all that you have built.”

Margaret tried her best not to look frightened, but even she had gone pale in terror. “You would go against your ancestors? You would go against all who gave you breath?”

Lore shook her head. “My ancestors gave me this power to stop you, Margaret. I am the arrow they created to pierce your wicked heart.”

She dropped her hand, and the moon moved back into place, shaking the very earth as it did. And then she turned toward him and Abraxas knew she wanted to make one more display of power.

So he surged forward into a dragon, all the elves tumbling away from him but her. She climbed onto his back, and he shattered the glass ceiling as he launched them into the sky.