What did this mean? The likeness was uncanny. She was supposed to be his relation… was this a magic trick? It must be an illusion to make her hesitate. Thane could trace his royal lineage back for thousands of years on both sides. There was no way he was related to the mage.
Layala glanced over at Mathekis and slowly slid her dagger from her hip. Turning her back to him and blocking his view of what she was doing, she jabbed the sharp point of her blade at his heart. The tip of her weapon didn’t even touch the leather armor he wore. A translucent veil shimmered against her weapon, hard as stone, impenetrable and unyielding. The magic protecting him in this state was indeed there.
“It won’t work,” Mathekis said smugly. “So don’t bother trying to kill him.”
But if the veil surrounded him, could she even do the spell to wake him? She slowly reached for his face; her fingertips brushed his skin, and she jerked back at the icy feel. So she could get through the veil if she didn’t intend to harm? Clever. There was no other choice then. She drew the sharp edge of her blade across her palm and took a deep breath as blood welled up.
Mathekis watched her with an unnerving hunger, his face contorted as if he could barely contain himself, but he stood completely still. “That’s it,” he encouraged.
Hand visibly trembling, she hovered it over his mouth and let her blood drip into his slightly-parted lips. The goddess didn’t specify how much but when lines ran down the sides of his chin, she set her hand on his armored chest for balance and leaned forward. Her heart hammered; it was suddenly hard to breathe. She once thought she would take the life of Thane, the elf she thought was the worst in the realm of Adalon and now, she was about to give life to true evil.
Her skin crawled as her lips grazed his. She stared at his long dark lashes and whispered the words the goddess told her to recite, “I give you my blood so that your heart may beat and my breath so that your lungs may draw air. I give you life,” and then she blew into his mouth. She waited. Her heart thumped hard against her ribs, and then his chest rose beneath her hand as he inhaled. Layala jumped. It worked. His light ashen skin took on a vibrancy as if he radiated from the inside.
Now he was vulnerable. Now he could be killed. She threw out her hand, wrapped her vine around Mathekis’s mouth like a gag. Vines circled his body and pinned him there. He roared but he had to speak words to use his persuasive power. Varlett slammed her fists on the invisible wall and scratched her talons against it, but she was powerless to get through.
Swiftly, Layala took the pommel of her sword in both hands and leveled the tip with his heart. The fact he looked so much like the male she loved made her gut churn, but this was the Black Mage. The elf responsible for the death of so many, the one who brought the curse on this land. She drove down with all her strength. Her blade hit and with a loud snap, it broke in half. Holy shit. Holy shit. Lightbringer! Shocked, she stared at the fragmented jagged piece lying on his chest. The magical shield was supposed to be gone. Why didn’t it work? With her mouth hanging open, she picked up the other half of Lightbringer. No. This had to work.
Mathekis broke free of her magic and said, “Do not strike him again.”
She felt the power of his persuasion, but it didn’t hit like before. She’d grown resilient to his magic somehow. With no time to lose, she tossed the sword, and it clattered on the floor, loud in the silence of this room. Her dagger was swiftly in her hand.
The Black Mage’s eyes flashed open, and he bolted upright. Layala gasped and brought up the dagger to jam it into his neck, but a strong hand snaked around her throat before she could strike and retreat. As if ice slid through her veins, every muscle froze. She fought to move, to jerk away but she couldn’t. She tried to scream, to cry for help though it would have been in vain.
Maroon colored eyes that seemed to shift and glitter from deep red to vibrant magenta trailed over Layala, starting from the top of her head to her hips and then his stare met hers. All she could think about at that moment was why he looked so much like Thane even though she should be fighting to break free, calling her magic to destroy this evil bastard. But even if they resembled each other, Thane was beautiful like the sun, warm and bright with the power to burn. The Black Mage was the night, cold, full of shadows and darkness and yet, the only time the stars shined.
“Where are we?” His powerful and seductive voice snaked down her spine.
The hold he had over her vocal cords loosed. “Get your hand off me!” she spat.
He gripped her throat hard enough to cut off her air. “I asked you a question and you will answer. If you make a remark like that again, I’ll crush your windpipe.”
Her skin prickled and her lungs burned for air. She nodded once, and his digging fingers eased slightly. “The Void.” Maker, how was she going to get out of this? Just as every inch of her body was held hostage, so was her magic. Her skin tingled with its power, but nothing happened. It felt like that shimmering veil he once had over him was over her now but to keep her magic trapped inside.
His dark brows pulled down slightly. “The Void?”
“In Adalon. In the Kingdom of Palenor.”
Thane, please come. Please. Or Prince Ronan, Piper, Fennan, someone. But they were all locked in their own battles. This was supposed to be easy. Bring him to life then kill him all in a matter of seconds. She reached deep inside herself again, searching for her magic, imagining the black vines shooting around, wrapping around him, crushing the life from him.
Mathekis stepped toward them and said, “My Lord, I am here.”
The Black Mage barely spared him a glance as his legs slid off the table, and his boots hit the ground. His intimidating stature loomed over her. He glanced over at Mathekis, scrutinizing him a moment and then he was focused on her again. With whatever magic he wielded, he took control of her legs, pushing her to walk backward until she hit the wall. Her heart slammed against her chest. Why can’t I move? How is he doing this? She was at the complete mercy of this mad elf. His grip on her throat didn’t hurt but was uncomfortable. He blinked a few times and whatever confusion he once had vanished. She saw it lift in his malevolent eyes.
“I knew you’d come to me.” He paused. “Valeen.”
Layala swallowed hard. “My name is Layala. You’re mistaken.”
“It’s her, Lord,” Mathekis said. “I’m certain of it.”
“Oh, I know it is.” He licked Layala’s blood from his lower lip and then slowly shook his head. “So, it’s games you want? It’s been a long time, but I will never forget you.”
He was out of his mind. With all her might, she fought to gain control of her dagger. Her right hand shook a little. “I’m an elven mage and my name is Layala Lightbringer.” What if she could convince him she was on his side long enough to get away. “I brought you back—to fight with you, and yet you grab me by the throat.”
A cruel smirk lifted the corners of his mouth. “More lies.” He licked more blood from the corner of his mouth. “You loathe me. I can feel it radiating off you.”
He glanced toward the doorway where Varlett still stood, palm flat against the barrier. She looked—sad. Or at the very least, worried. Her gaze bounced back and forth between them. But it wasn’t as if Layala had the upper hand here, so her worry was unwarranted.
“Why is she here?” he demanded of Mathekis.
“To make amends, Lord.”
He let out a low growl and looked down at Layala once again. “You don’t remember anything? I don’t look familiar to you?”
He did but not for any reason he was thinking. She shook her head.
“And you don’t remember Varlett either, do you? At least from before.”
What was there to remember? He was long gone by the time she was born. This must be a case of mistaken identity. Maybe she only looked like the Valeen they once knew, a doppelgänger. “All I know is that Varlett is your very devoted lover.”
He smiled. “You must still be young.” His hand felt its way up from her throat to her cheek, sending an involuntary shiver through her. He brushed his thumb over her lips. If he moved it any closer, she’d sink her teeth into him. “Twenty-five?” How could he know that? And what did her age have to do with anything? “Maybe twenty-six. Mathekis knew he had to wait until you were the proper age to wake me.” He tilted her face side to side. “But your power is weak. You haven’t been using it like you should. No one has trained you.”
How could he know all this simply by looking at her? Her chest rushed up and down with panicked breath. All she wanted was to be able to move her body again and fight. Her muscles felt so taut and strained they ached.
“I didn’t remember in the beginning either.” He tsked. “What are we going to do about that, love?” He took the dagger from her hand and held it up. “You tried to kill me with this? You’re either misguided or a fool.”
Layala gathered all the saliva in her mouth and spit in his face.
He chuckled and wiped his cheek. “Maybe you do remember me.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, you smug bastard. Release me!”
“If you’d been using your power like you should, Val, you could break free of my hold.” He smiled, showing off his beautiful teeth and the dimple on his left cheek. He even had that small scar across his chin too as she’d seen in her dream. “You had the power to rival even me.”
As if his words gave her strength, she curled her right hand into a fist and punched him straight in the jaw. His head snapped to the side, and he growled, low and menacing. When he looked back, darkness clouded his eyes, and he slowly grew a wicked smile. “Ah there you are.” He gripped her throat tighter and that iciness in her blood stilled her completely again. “But that won’t happen again.” He paused looking her over. “I couldn’t have asked for a better welcome back gift than to watch you helpless under my touch. I wonder, would you beg me to let you go?”
Her knees suddenly crumpled, and she dropped to the stone. The pain of the impact flared up her injury and she winced. “Thane!” she shouted but her voice echoed around the room as if a sound barrier kept it inside. Was she trapped in here now? The anxiety of being stuck in that tower at Castle Dredwich coiled its way through her. Her breaths came quicker; her composure began to slip.
He smiled again and tapped his finger on his chin. “Thane?” he purred. “Maybe I’ll let you go to him if you say, please, Hel let me go. Please, Hel, most wise, handsome, and all-powerful god, show me mercy.”
“Piss off,” she snarled. She wouldn’t beg.
His smooth-as-honey laugh bounced off the tower walls. “Oh, what fun we’re going to have. And I do so enjoy seeing you on your knees but…” He stood from his crouch and with one simple flick of his finger Layala rose and her feet lifted off the ground until her face was level with his. “It’s unbecoming.” He shoved his palm against her Raven armored chest and pinned her to the wall. The harsh impact stole the breath from her lungs. “See, a queen should never be on her knees.”
Layala’s eyes widened, a queen?
His gaze drug down her form. “This won’t do either.” With a snap of his fingers, her armor vanished, and a gown of blood red wrapped around her body. Straps wrapped around her neck and his hand slid up the length of her thigh where a slit in the dress revealed bare skin, all the way to her hip. His gaze fell to the stab wound. “Who hurt you?” He didn’t sound concerned but almost as if it delighted him. His eyes were fixed on the blood.
Anger and fury burned hot in her chest, as his fingers danced around the throbbing pain. She wanted to tear his hands off her, but she still couldn’t move. “Stop touching me.”
He finally tore his gaze up. “I asked you a question, love.”
She almost felt compelled to answer, as if she couldn’t resist. “The elf I hate most in this world hurt me. King Tenebris. More than once. More than anyone ever has.”
He cupped his palm over her injury. Warmth radiated from his touch and to her utter surprise, the throbbing stopped. “Why does that name sound familiar?” he mused.
“He was the elf prince you made a deal with, Lord,” Mathekis offered.
The Black Mage tsked again. “Ah, yes. He should know better than to touch what is mine. He and I had a deal, you know. I’d kill his father so he could be king and if he ensured you were brought to me, he’d become a mage. He couldn’t resist but neither could the rest of the elves. Oh, the fun back then.”
“You tortured and killed and cursed elves because you thought it was fun?” Her voice overflowed with disdain. “That’s why you did this?”
“Why? I did it because I could, love,” he said in a tone that sounded flirtatious. He stared at her face as if he couldn’t look away. “Gods, you are even more beautiful than I remembered. The envy of all in Runevale.”
“I’m not Valeen. I’m a descendant of Runevale but I’m not from there. As you said, I’m twenty-five. I was born here.” She hoped he would see reason. See that this was a mistake.
His lips hovered an inch from hers, and his wild magenta eyes filled with mischief and delight. “You may be known as Layala Lightbringer but that’s not who you truly are. There is only one person who could bring me back. One single female in all the realms. And her name, your true name is Valeen. A goddess reborn.” He tugged down the collar of his shirt to reveal a lily mark exactly like hers on the left side of his chest. “And you are my wife.”
