Sophie Oak - Beauty

He had to kill his niece and take the power back from the hags.

A loud crack took him out of his thoughts. The sky outside turned black as night, the sun sinking behind an enormous cloud.

“What is that?” Maris asked.

He had only to look at the smirk on his dead brother’s face to know the truth. “It’s an eddy cloud. The rebels are here.”

They began descending from the clouds, their numbers far more than he’d expected. Immediately there were the sounds of metal against metal and a sonic boom as the vampires proved to be terrible allies.

Still, he glanced down, his guard had more numbers and they weren’t without their own weapons.

And none of it would matter if the hags took him out.

Torin ran for the dungeon with only one thought on his mind. Bronwyn’s time had come.

Lach fell to the ground, bodies falling all around him, and realized he hadn’t known the true meaning of the word chaos. The sounds and smells of battle assaulted him.

Clanging from swords striking swords rang out across the field. In the distance he could see the White Palace, a gleaming pearl amidst the gloom of afternoon. The cloud they had ridden made it seem more like twilight, but they had hours to go before night.

Dellacourt brushed past him, Kaja in her wolf form at his side and the queen’s hand clutched in his. “Good luck to you, Your Highness. Kaja and I are on Meg duty. We’re getting clear of the field, but I can talk to you through the implants. I’ll look for a way past the guard and into the palace so you can get to Bron.”

Lach clutched his sword and with his instincts guiding him, brought it down on a guard trying to cut through the queen’s torso. First blood and the first corpse of the day. The soldier fell and then almost immediately got back up and bowed to his new master.

Queen Meg’s eyes went wide as the moon. “Holy crap. That is so freaking cool.”

Dellacourt shook his head and hurried her along. “No time for cool shit, Meg. Time for hiding and keeping your head on your body.”

As she was hustled away, Lach could still hear her. “But that was awesome.”

“You have a fan,” Shim said with a grin.

He looked at his brother who held Duffy’s axe in his hand. He’d been so weak for so long.

Shim proved his weakness was gone by hefting his axe and neatly decapitating a guard. He grinned at his brother. “I thought the head was the best way to go since you can use arms and legs without the head.”

That was his brother. Always a giver. Lach pulled at his new soldier and sent him into battle.

Lach heard a long scream and was shocked to see the guards who had been foolish enough to get near the tree line were being pulled up into them. The trees themselves seemed to bend, their branches working like arms and claiming the guards. The guard Lach watched screamed and attempted to hack at the branches that held him, but a vine wound around his neck and his scream was cut short. The guard disappeared into the foliage, sucked up in clawing green arms.

A short distance away, Cian Finn held his hands up, controlling the trees. The Green Man had his own army.

Lach gave himself over to the fight. He saw the Seelie Warrior King in the midst of battle. He obviously preferred to fight over using his power, but Lach knew he would use it if he had to. In such close quarters any weather the Storm Lord brought down on the enemy would come down on their own heads, too. Shim was the same. He would start a fire, but it could engulf their own troops. Shim’s power would be used for another purpose.

As long as the hags lived, no one would be safe. Torin could fall, but if the hags somehow got away, there would be no peace for any of them.

His body moving like a well-oiled machine, Lach tore through the guards. He allowed the fierce joy of battle to push him like a wave toward the palace.

Lach sent a corpse to protect his brother and then another. He would feel infinitely better if he knew Shim had someone to watch his back even if his new guard no longer had a head on his body.

Lach saw a familiar face holding a small body in his arms. Max Harper was covered in blood, but he looked down at the phooka.

“I don’t understand,” Max said, looking up at Lach. “He leapt in front of me. Why would this creature do that?”

The phooka’s eyes were half closed, his blood draining quickly. Lach could sense the creature, who should have lived for centuries, was close to death. His tail twitched slightly, an unconscious move. “Imprinted on you early, you bastard. I’ve been with you most of your life. I was your pet and the hawk who followed you and the horse you complained about but always fed so well. I know you, Max Harper. Hard on the outside and such a soul! It was an honor to share a piece of you.”

Max stared down. “I didn’t even know.”

“You didn’t have to.” The phooka looked up at Lach. “And don’t use me, Death Lord. My time is come. Did you know there’s peace in the after? I feel it.”

The phooka let go, his soul flying wherever souls flew. Lach wasn’t sure, but he’d learned that death wasn’t something to fear. It was simply a power that resided in him and once the war was done, he would find a way to use it in a gentler way.

But now he used it to save Harper. He commanded one of his soldiers to leap in front of the horse trainer and take the blow meant for him.

Harper got to his feet, the sword in his hand. “Thanks.”

“Don’t waste his sacrifice.” The phooka had been an odd creature, a thing that could cause great chaos, but love had sent him on a different path.

A million thoughts raced through him. Love. Ambition. Protection. Possession. They could all be used for good or bad. Love had nearly cost him his wife, his need to protect her so great he discounted her own soul.

Love was merely a tool and how a soul chose to use it became the measure of the man. The phooka had chosen wisely, and Lach was determined to learn the lesson.

He called his army of dead as he ran to his brother. It was a gamble, but she would need everything they had.

I am ready. Pull them back. Her voice was a sweet whisper through his soul.

Lach opened himself, giving her everything, heart and soul and life and power. It welled up and surged across the distance between them.

Shim shook and, in an instant, his brother fell, a limp body on the ground.

Lach got to his knees and prayed he could save him once more.

* * * *

The hags were upset.

“How is she so strong? She should be hanging like a carcass by now.” They stood back as though assessing whether or not she was a threat.

She was the least threatening thing in the damn room. As far as she could tell, she was in the dungeon. This seemed to be the hag’s special room. She’d woken up here, bound to the wall. She’d tried to see what was around her. To her left it looked like there were shelves and shelves of herbs and various scary items that they probably used to do bad things. And there was a pot in the center that was already bubbling, already preparing to stew.

“She’s wrong.”

Bron had to cover a smile because the hags were so very confused. All through the long night they had tortured her, leaving her a limp, sad little thing. And then the bondmates had answered her call. Over and over they had sent small bursts of energy to her. But more than any amount of life force, what they had truly sent to her was hope.

Bron held herself up. She could feel her men. They were a soft hum in her soul, buoying her. They were out there now. She’d sensed them the moment they had dropped from the eddy cloud and the battle had begun.