Thea Harrison: Storm's Heart

“The only two people we need to stop are you and your filthy animal,” Naida said.

Filthy animal. She tucked her chin in further and gave serious thought to some head-butting action. Apparently they didn’t want her dead right away. One really good crack, and she could break Naida’s patrician nose.

Naida continued. “If we kill the both of you, there is no succession to protect. Aubrey is the only real choice for the throne. He has cared for the Dark Fae people and worked on our behalf for far longer than you and I have been alive. His wisdom and experience in governance is unparalleled. The Elder tribunal will come to see his ascension as inevitable. And the Wyr have no right to stay in Dark Fae land, especially since your animal has cut all official ties with the Wyr Lord. They will have to leave. I doubt the Wyrkind will be interested in an alliance with us after this, but I am not concerned about that. The Dark Fae have done well enough without a Wyr alliance for the last two hundred years. We will succeed, especially when we place the right Commander at the head of the Dark Fae army.”

The right Commander. Gotcha.

“Greater good, my ass,” she growled. “Durin murdered Arethusa so he could become Commander, and if Aubrey becomes Dark Fae King, you get to rule by his side, which is all that matters to you, you psychotic bitch.”

Naida opened the pack. She said with edged calm, “You talk like the trash you have become. Speaking of tools, you know, exploring Urien’s house gave me a fruitful education and some unexpected opportunities.”

“If you’re referring to Urien’s fake company, we already know about it,” Niniane said.

“That tool is no longer useful. I refer to more than just that.” She reached into the pack and pulled out two sets of black chains with manacles. They radiated a kind of Power that raised Niniane’s hackles.

“What the hell are those?” she whispered.

“Urien made them,” Naida said. “He was such an expert metallurgist, and so gifted with Power. He was one of the most accomplished of us, and his notes on his research were meticulous.”

“You’ve got to be joking,” she said. “He was a treasonous mass-murdering, self-serving, Power-hungry bastard.”

Naida sighed. “Oh, get over it.” The Dark Fae woman regarded the manacles. Her gray eyes gleamed with admiration. “He designed these specifically to imprison Wyr. Apparently they worked so well they shackled the Great Beast himself. According to Urien’s notes, even though the Beast freed himself, he was not able to break these bindings.”

Oh shit. Niniane’s breath hitched and she grew still. She had heard of those shackles. They had been used when Urien had had Dragos and Pia kidnapped and imprisoned in the Goblin stronghold. They had blocked Dragos’s ability to shapeshift into his dragon form. Dragos had been able to gain his freedom only after finding the key to the shackles. Preoccupied with getting to Pia as fast as he could, he had lost the shackles and had been obsessed with trying to find them ever since.

A frigid gale-force wind howled through the trees, blasting into the clearing, and the bright sunlit autumn morning disintegrated as black clouds churned across the sky. Durin swore under his breath, and Naida looked up, her face blank with astonishment, as a massive bolt of lightning ripped the heavens. Thunder exploded.

Niniane didn’t give herself time to think. She took a step forward, lifted a leg and slammed the heel of her boot into Naida’s face as hard as she could.

Bone crunched. Blood spurted from Naida’s nose as her head snapped back.

Durin lunged to grab her, but she knew she had no hope of getting away. She was only interested in inflicting as much damage as she could. Durin missed as she let herself fall back on the ground. Agony shot through her shoulders as she landed on her bound arms. She ignored it, rolled toward him and sent the most vicious kick she could muster to the side of his knee.

Durin hissed in pain and toppled sideways to the ground.

Holy cow. She actually managed to get in two good, solid hits in a row. The sentinels were going to be high-fiving each other at her funeral.

She rolled desperately, throwing all her strength into trying to get some distance between herself and the other two. Hey, miracles happened all the time. You never know, she might make it. She might—

An iron-hard grip clamped on to her ankle. Gasping hard for air, she flipped on her back again and tried to kick at whoever held her, but Durin pushed forward onto her legs, and though she screamed in rage and bucked and kicked as hard as she could, she could not dislodge him.

That was when the monster walked into the clearing. He moved with a speed that was shocking for one of his massive build. He carried a sword in each talon-tipped hand, and his teeth were too long and sharp. His eyes blazed white like twin stars, and oh gods, she loved him so much, and she knew why they had kept her alive for so long, because she was both bait and leverage, literally all they had to use against the onslaught of this nightmare.

Durin sank a fist into her hair and yanked her up until she was on her knees. He jerked her head back, and Naida moved up beside her to put the knife at her throat.

Naida said, “Stop.”

The monster’s blazing eyes fixed on Niniane. He stopped.

“Drop your weapons.” Naida sounded ragged.

No no no.

His hands opened. The swords fell to the ground.

Vaguely she was aware of other people racing into the clearing, and something lethal and winged soaring over the trees. A harpy’s enraged shriek sounded in the air overhead. Somewhere close, Rune swore and ordered people to stay back. None of them mattered. The world had narrowed to just her and Tiago, Durin and Naida, and the knife at her throat.

Durin bent, grabbed the shackles and threw them. They landed at the monster’s feet. “Put those on,” he said. “Run the chain behind your back.”

The monster did not move.

Naida pressed the knife harder against the thin skin of her neck. Another sting, another small wound and warm trickle of blood. Naida said, “She is one slice away from death. Do it.”

“No,” she whispered. “Don’t.”

The monster held her gaze as he bent to pick up the shackles.

Durin and Naida meant to kill Tiago as soon as he put them on. She would throw herself on the knife if she could. Maybe they had not gone too far on mating. Maybe he would have a chance to survive if she did. Maybe—she strained forward, but Durin’s tight fist in her hair was rock-steady.

Tiago snapped one manacle into place on one thick wrist, ran the chain behind his back, and snapped the second manacle on his other wrist.

“My gods,” Aubrey said from across the clearing. He sounded profoundly shaken. “My gods—Naida, what have you done ?”

“As soon as we heard Urien had been killed, people started whispering,” Naida said. “You were going to be King. Didn’t you hear them? Everyone said there couldn’t be anyone better, and there was no one left with closer ties to the throne. Then she appeared, and she had become nothing more than a plastic Americanized whore who had been in bed with the Wyr all these years—”

The monster growled, his face naked with hate.

Aubrey shouted, “She is your rightful Queen!”

“She is not Queen yet!” Naida shouted back. “Why can you not see—when she and her animal are put down, there will be nothing to stop people from supporting you again—”

Naida pressed the knife harder into Niniane’s neck.

The monster bared his teeth and plunged forward.

Naida said to Durin, “Kill him.”

Durin’s grip in her hair loosened. She tried again to throw herself on the knife, but Naida shifted to take Durin’s place, holding her jaw in a bruising grip and forcing her head back. Durin strode forward, and time fell its inevitable fall, both backward and forward, toward that jagged place where everything shattered into pieces forever, and she screamed out her heart as the Dark Fae male impaled Tiago on his sword— oh god mother —