Thane grabbed a fistful of his father’s hair and dragged him in a slow steady march. The soldiers around them stopped fighting and parted for him. They watched with what he could only describe as relief, that their fight might be over. In the end, this battle came down to who wore the king’s crown.
“Thane,” Tenebris hit and clawed at his hand. “Stop this. Stop it! I had no choice. I had to ensure she was brought to him.”
He vaguely heard his father’s begging, barely registering the excuses. “Tell them,” Thane said. “Tell them who the High King is.”
“I am High King!” he spat.
His fist cracked Tenebris’s already bruised cheek, knocking him to the ground. He wrapped his fingers around his father’s throat and jerked him up again. Tenebris wheezed, trying to pry his hand away. Then Thane placed the sharp edge of his sword on his father’s neck. Once Layala was taken, his remorse, his hesitation when it came to Tenebris vanished. This was his fault. This battle, the fact that she wasn’t in his arms at this very moment. All of it.
The word began to spread through the field. Swords stopped clashing, arrows didn’t cut through the air, and the dragons landed, hanging back in the distance. The smell of burning flesh and charred earth overwhelmed the normally pleasant fresh air. The cries of the dying still lingered, and the vultures hovered above but those remaining stood at attention.
“Tell them Thane Athayel is High King of Palenor. Tell them or I will show them by spilling your blood all over this field.”
Tenebris’s throat bobbed. The caw of a raven circling overhead interrupted the silence, until he said, “I am stepping down. I relinquish my status.” He hesitated. “Thane Athayel is your High King.”
Both the Ravens and the Palenor soldiers, side by side, differing only in armor and who’d they’d been loyal to moments before, like a wave crashed to their knees.
Still gripping his father’s hair, he forced him to turn. The scrunch of pain on his father’s face only made him want to squeeze harder. He was so weak.
“I didn’t want to do this. I had no choice,” Tenebris started. “I made a deal with the Black Mage hundreds of years ago. Mathekis made sure I upheld it. I was driven to find her, or I’d turn. You understand, don’t you? I had to hold up my end of the bargain. Just like you once did.”
There was no sympathy for what his father did. He made a selfish choice. “This was for power, nothing more.”
“I was stupid. I wanted to be king. I wanted magic which I would only get when she woke him. And by the time I figured out I made a mistake, it was too late.”
“How could he know about Layala that long ago?”
“He said he remembered, and he knew she would come.”
“Remembered what?” Thane snarled, pressing the blade harder.
“That he was a god and so was she. I thought he was delusional, but I was only thinking of myself.”
Thane stared at his father, at the way his skin creased between his light eyebrows. He remembered they were gods? What did that mean? In another life?
“He said that they were being punished, that they had to repent, and they were sent here to learn their lesson…” he licked his lips in hesitation. “And that she was his wife—his eternally-bound mate. I truly didn’t know if your mate bond with her would work but you never finished the spell. You never joined your blood in a wedding ceremony to see.”
Thane felt the color drain from his face, and he released his father, moving back in a faltered step. “No.” He wouldn’t accept that. She was his mate, his wife. He felt it in his soul. They belonged together. But something about that statement stirred at the back of his mind. He could almost hear music, a tune he didn’t know he knew. Dancing, gowns—a wedding. His? No—not his.
Tenebris stared down at his hands, opening and closing his fingers. It was an odd movement, like he was testing out if they were stiff. “I’m sorry, my son. I should have never dragged you into this.” He held out his palms. “My hands were tied.”
He wanted to be remorseful now? To apologize now? Thane watched him closely. The fear that once gripped his face vanished. So, he thought Thane would be lenient.
Thane shoved a finger at Tenebris. “The only reason I’m allowing you breath is so Layala can be the one to end you.” He looked to the soldiers to his right. “Bind him. And Aldrich, too. Wherever that snake slinked off to.”
He needed to get to Layala. The Void was quiet, too quiet for how close they were. Would they have followed Varlett and Layala? Where was Mathekis? Did they wait for the Black Mage to wake? “Battle formations!” Thane shouted. He wouldn’t allow them to be caught unprepared. “Make ready for a pale one attack!”
“Oh, Thane, one more thing before you rush off to her rescue.” Tenebris smiled while the soldiers held his arms behind his back. What did he have up his sleeve? What did he know?
He swept out his leg and dropped the Raven to his left. With confusion, Thane watched the other Raven’s skin turn an impossible shade of light blue then… frost covered his hair and even his armor until he was a frozen block of ice.
With a start, realization hit him. The Black Mage was awake, his father’s deal was upheld, and Tenebris could now wield magic. With Tenebris’s palm facing Thane, fingers splayed wide, a blast of frost hit Thane in the chest with the force of a ten-foot-tall ogre swinging a club. The blow sent him flying back into the group of soldiers, knocking them all down.
His body began to convulse. A cold so deep it felt hot seared his center. He watched in horror as the frost covered the Palenor sigil on his chest, then down his torso, moving like flame over oil. Thane slapped his hand over the cold, and it infected his hand and shot up his arm. The soldiers around him scrambled back. No no no no, he was paralyzed as the ice covered everything below his neck. It crept up to his chin—he wanted to scream, called his magic to stop it. It fought to warm him, to break free, then he felt it reach the top of his head.
Everything was dark.
An intense darkness like the stars fell from the heavens and the moon lost its luster.
He heard nothing.
Felt nothing…
… but cold. Bitter cold. Was he dead? Was this hell? An eternal punishment for the lives he’d stolen? It didn’t feel like he had a body. He couldn’t move… was there anywhere to move to?
He felt something now. Shame. His father bested him, killed him with one singular blow? And oh, Maker above, Layala. She was alone with the Black Mage. He left her alone. No, he couldn’t leave her. He made her a promise.
The slightest light flickered. Like a spark in the dead of night. He felt it more than saw it, warming his chest. A thud, thud, thud, beat from somewhere. Was that a heartbeat?
It went faster. Thud, thud, thud, thud.
Heat blossomed and bloomed, melting the ice in his veins, covering his skin.
A glorious light shined so bright it stung his eyes. He blinked back tears, wiggled his fingers, curled his toes. The grass was soft under him. The scent of something burning invaded his nose. Whispers among soldiers started. But his father had his back to him, unaware. Thane shoved up, jerked free his second sword, and in three strides he drove the blade straight into Tenebris’s back.
With a startled, strangled cry, he arched.
“I just remembered,” Thane said in his ear. “I promised her that I’d destroy anyone who hurt her. She didn’t need to be the one to do it.” Tenebris’s legs gave way and Thane wrenched the sword free. Blood pooled out, filling the area around his body swiftly. He thought he would feel something as the light left his father’s eyes and he stared up at the blue sky. Thought he’d feel the regret and anguish that had haunted him for months. But there was nothing. He may as well have been back in the darkness—cold.
“Vaper!” Thane’s voice carried across the quiet battlefield. The bronze dragon rose into the air, and shot over the soldiers, casting a shadow to cover half of them. She landed with a grunt and smoke puffed out her nostrils.
“Yes, High King?”
“Take me to Layala.”
The thumping of Layala’s heart and a sudden ringing in her ears made the Black Mage sound far away even though he was so close she could feel his body heat spilling onto her. It couldn’t be true. She couldn’t be his wife—his mate. He was mad…But she wondered what their connection was, and why the pale ones were drawn to her. Rising nausea made her want to vomit. This couldn’t be it. It couldn’t be real.
His palm slid across the top of Layala’s head. Something heavy and round settled there, a halo. Her stomach dropped. Maker above, not a crown. Not for him. In her shadow on the stone floor, she saw the outline of stars poised above her head. Holy Maker above, she’d seen the likeness of this headpiece before in the temple on the goddess with the serpents wrapped around her arms and…. Blooms at her shoulders.
A dragon’s roar made them both look at the door. Please be him. Please. Varlett quickly disappeared, and Mathekis tensed, watching the entry with a narrowed gaze.
“Thane, I presume,” the Black Mage said with a smirk. “I cannot wait to meet whoever it is you so desperately want to see. This Thane you believe can save you from me.”
Layala felt sick. A creeping feeling that somehow the Black Mage would know Thane, overwhelmed her. Just like he knew her. That somehow the three of them were connected. She couldn’t fathom how but deep down that knowing enveloped her. The same way she knew she would stop Prince Yoren’s dragon’s fire from scorching her and Thane. The same way she knew to touch the protective shield and it would not burn.
Dark messy hair and Raven armor covered in dried blood appeared in the entryway. Thane peered inside, and with darkness creeping in and a rumbling like distant thunder, he stepped through the barrier. Piper and Ronan tried to follow him, but the magical force barred them. Piper’s fist crashed into the invisible shield.
“Thane!” Layala cried in relief. He would break her free of the Black Mage’s hold, surely and together they would take him down.
He raised his sword, the point of it leveled at the Black Mage. “Get your hands off her.”
The Black Mage’s eyes flashed wide for a moment then his finger slid down the side of her face and down her neck until he cupped her chin. His piercing gaze locked onto Thane. “I should have known it would be you, War. Oh, I should have known. The gods wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Mathekis withdrew his sword and in his commanding tone said, “Leave us, Prince.”
“I am the High King of Palenor. You do not command me.” His booming authority demanded respect.
The Black Mage’s eyes smoldered with delight. “He’s much more than that. He’s the god of war. Tread carefully, Mathekis.”
Mathekis halted, looking at his lord with confusion.
What in the realms is he talking about? Thane, the god of war?
Thane’s lips parted and his brows furrowed, but he blinked a few times, and something shifted in his gaze, a spark of recognition.
The Black Mage looked to Thane and said, “You did something, didn’t you, War? To block me from her? One of my own spells perhaps? Clever.” Layala blinked… Holy shit, she only started hearing his voice after the mate bond was broken. “She looks perfect doesn’t she, cousin, in her rightful crown? Our goddess. The one we both desired.”
Did he just call Thane, cousin? How can that be? Unless they’re cousins from… before. Was Tenebris even truly Thane’s father? Layala’s heart beat even harder. A memory just out of reach itched at the back of her mind. Why did this sound so wrong and yet… so right?
“I said, get your hands off my mate,” Thane barked, stepping closer but with trepidation. They met eyes. Thane looked worried the Black Mage would hurt her.
“Your mate? Oh, dear me.” He smirked. “This might hurt a little.” Thane looked as confused and furious as Layala felt. “I’ll catch you up. I won her over first and you stole my wife from me. You started a vicious war the realms had never seen before.” He paused to lick his bottom lip.
Layala gulped. The book at the dragon court—the war between the gods and realms Thane spoke of.
“You may have had her for a time but she’s my wife. My mate.” He swung her around, and then snaked both his arms around her waist, pulling her back flush against his front. To her disgust, his magic still controlled her completely. “I forgot to introduce myself. How silly of me. I am Hel, god of magic and mischief. The magic I was born with, the mischief was earned. King of Villhara, husband to Valeen, goddess of night. You know her as Layala.” His tongue slid across the edge of her ear. “Don’t worry, love, together we will get back home, and all those who sought to punish us will bow and profess, long live the queen.”
