Loving Lies (5 page)

Chapter Nine

The night was a deep, blue velvet with stars twinkling with mischievous flare. The crowds began to arrive first from the shadows, strange folk with brightly coloured clothing and ornate hairstyles as though it was the perfect night out and they’d dressed their best for the occasion. Each of them bowed low to Willow but, apart from caustic glances, she paid them no mind.

Magical seating formed around the edges of the wooded glade, seats soon filled by the curious arrivals. Muted chatter, discreet finger pointing and shrill laughter did little to quell Willow’s soaring nerves.

“Look how they come to watch me die,” she spat coldly, reminding Nico of her mother’s tone.

“We can leave here before anyone else arrives. We have a place you can hide until Colson forgets you exist,” he offered, watching Willow’s face for a reaction.

“Been there, done that,” Willow snapped. “Colson will never forget. He hates me. He always has. He’ll hunt me down and kill all of you in the process.” Vestiges of memory danced through her mind; childhood glimpses of a cruel and nasty boy pulling at her hair, pinching the soft skin of her arms and the needless slaughter of a much loved cat and her tiny kittens. Colson was older and capable of so much more. Her only option was to face him, no longer caring if she lived. Donovan’s betrayal had stolen her life. What did she have without him?

She still couldn’t remember her husband although she’d chased through her dreams in search of anything she could hold to her heart. But all thoughts previous to the last few days eluded her every effort. He would be here today, although in her enemy’s camp, but she would see him, would get to look at that beautiful man before she left this world and his forever. It was a price worth paying.

“I’m ready,” Willow faced her father’s frightened features. She wore a long gown of the deepest emerald green, her feet bare and touching the earth’s leafy carpet. Her hair was pulled off her face, exposing wide eyes which flashed sapphire blue. “I’m not afraid,” she whispered as Garion drew her into his arms. He didn’t speak, couldn’t speak. All his fears of the last seven years had materialised and there was nothing he could do. After a quick hug from Helen, Willow stepped into the centre of the glade where Colson awaited. His hair was wet to his head, weighed down by copious handfuls of some sickly scented gel, his face pink from the addition of a thick layer of cosmetics. From afar he looked healthy, but up close he reminded Willow of a badly made-up clown.

“I’d begun to believe you had run, like the nauseating little coward you are,” Colson hissed out of the corner of his mouth as they awaited the seating of Queen Felicity.

“And deny you the chance of killing me? I don’t think so,” Willow murmured which did little to appease her cousin.

“You won’t deny me that pleasure. How’s the memory?”

“I don’t need a memory to recognise a nasty, spoiled little weasel when I see one,” she snapped back, refusing to show the fear building in her chest. “Did you leave your hound dog at home?”

Colson smiled a cruel grin, a flash of white teeth beneath his pale lips. He spun slowly, his arms raised in praise of the audience gathered all around them and bowed slightly in appreciation of the gentle applause, before stepping closer to Willow, his lips next to her ear as he whispered.

“So you finally gained something of your memory, but it won’t help you. Lord Donovan was so brave, offering his freedom for yours, pleading with me to spare your worthless life. It would have been amusing had it not been so nauseating.”

“Is that your word of the week?” Willow absorbed his words, taking in the truth of Donovan’s offered sacrifice. Would a man who didn’t love her offer such a thing?

“What?” Colson spluttered at her insolence. What had happened to the frightened girl he’d terrorised in their youth?

“Nauseating…do you even know what it means?”

“What?” Colson repeated, a tight knot crossing his brow but his next insult was interrupted by a fanfare of trumpets and the heralded arrival of Queen Felicity. The cousins turned in unison, their faces neutral, as the Queen and her retinue took their seats, the red velvet throne visible to all eyes.

Felicity wore a sleek gown the same colour as her pale skin so that if one looked too fast she’d appear naked; an effect the Queen believed enhanced her beauty. Many of her subjects would disagree but never in her hearing. It was foolish to argue with a woman so bloodthirsty.

“Hear ye, hear ye,” a stout man in a scarlet doublet and hose rang a bell, calling for the attention of the Gathering. “Here is the time of the Gathering, the midst of the most worthy. We are gathered to witness the merging of the mighty, the champion for the crown. Our most beloved Queen has deemed this day to be her most majestic finale and commands her daughter, the Lady Willow and nephew, son of Bryon, Lord Colson to commence their long-awaited
ch
allenge for the right to govern the Kingdom and beyond.”

A soft round of applause echoed around the glade, the line of the watchers etched into the distance. A slight shimmer of power flew around the edge of the glade, creating an arena and bringing about a barrier between the audience and the two waiting to do battle.

Queen Felicity stood, her eyes raking over the figure of her only child, the disappointing daughter. Only Colson could control the land. Only her brother’s son could rule the people in the same manner as herself so she could remain, a counsellor in power at court at Colson’s side. Her future depended on Colson’s victory.

“Let it be. Her words, although softly spoken, were heard throughout the glade. Garion held Helen’s hand tightly as he watched his youngest daughter slowly back away an equal distance from her cousin.

Soft moonlit crossed Willow’s face; her fear apparent to all who watched but there was only one she sought, only one to give her the courage to die proudly. Was he here?

“Prepare to die, my dear cousin. Your useless life will end shortly,” Colson mocked coldly. His arms flapped furiously about his head but ceased when he noticed Willow’s eyes searching their audience. “Missing someone?”

“What have you done with him?” Willow drew up the last vestiges of her courage. She hadn’t asked for this, she wasn’t ready, but her thoughts were of Donovan, her husband. He mattered to her, more than she could explain, but this emotion, this heady sense of overpowering love, was more than she could contain in her slight body. It didn’t matter that she couldn’t remember him; she loved him and she hoped, she prayed he loved her too. She could die content if she knew for certain. Colson laughed, a sound that chilled Willow down to her bare feet. There was death in that sound, as he waved his hands, and she could smell the distinct odour of magic.
She
knew that smell, recognised the power. It dove into her heart, her head, bringing all sorts of images swirling in her mind. Most of them were of Donovan -his face gazing into hers, his mouth breaking into a warm smile and that smile was lit by the love he held in his heart for her. Only for her.

“He loves me,” she whispered, a confirmation of the feeling building inside her chest, but the pain, the heat of the lightning bolt as it struck her stole all thoughts from her mind. She slammed into the ground, the leafy carpet the only thing to break her fall. She screamed, echoed by her sister’s cry. It was only the soft words in her ear and the strength of their father which prevented Helen from attempting the arena’s barrier.

“Do you still live?” Colson stepped forward, his tone a mocking insult. “Yes, he still loves you even after spending seven years in the darkest pit. Nothing could destroy that love, not the beatings or the food deprivation. The fool endured everything believing you were outside my reach but even now he struggles to save you. That is my revenge; he will watch you die and live out his days alone.”

Willow pulled her aching body to her feet, her head turning at the movement of her cousin’s hand to where Donovan stood outside the perimeter of the glade, beyond the shimmer of the magical protection. Heavy chains looped his body, his arms were tied behind his back as beefy uniformed men ensured his captivity. But he stood tall, with his gaze upon her face. Dark bruises covered his face, one eye was swollen shut; but his pain, his fear was for the danger she faced alone.

“I love you,” he whispered on the breeze. His words touched her skin like a soft caress and a blue-white energy began to grow, her hands warm with the flow of power. This was their energy, the power created by their love that had never died despite their separation. Donovan loved her, what more did she need? She had everything here at her fingertips and the love of the man she loved could only boost that power flow.

“You’re a cruel sadistic bastard,” Willow turned her eyes to the cousin whose smile drooped at the sight of the blue flame curling around her hand. “You don’t frighten me, you never did.”

“I don’t want you to be afraid, I merely want you to die,” Colson raised his hands again, a finger pointing towards Willow but she was quicker. She had more to lose and decided seven years without her husband was long enough.

This time it was Colson flying through the midnight air, a heavy hush invading the astonished audience. No one expected the Lady Willow to fight back; none considered her capable of retaliating. She’d always been such a sensible child, meek and placid, everything her mother wasn’t. It was no wonder the Queen had expressed disappointment in her only child. The loud slap as Colson reconnected with Mother Earth issued through the silence, all eyes on his enraged features. How dare she embarrass him this way? He pulled himself to his unsteady feet, his face red with rage, his left eye twitching erratically.

“You will die now,” Colson’s hand moved through the air, a spiral of power swirling around him as he prepared for Willow’s death.

“Kill him.” Helen’s voice leapt through the air and Willow turned, surprised by her peaceful sister’s vehemence. “You can do it!”

“Fool!” Colson hissed, his hatred a mask altering his bland expression to that of an obsessed monster. “You will die and Donovan will watch his love, his life expire before his eyes. You’re not my match, cousin, dear. You never were.” Colson waved his hand but not at Willow—as one of the huge men at Donovan’s side raised an evil-looking staff to beat at her husband’s defenceless chest and head. He cried out to her, words of power, of love, and she realised she had only moments to save the life she’d always dreamed of with a man like Donovan.

“Enough!” Willow screamed, the very air around her steaming with her power. Taking a deep breath, she glared at the man killing the only man she could ever love. Her life was worthless without him and no one was going to steal him away again. The guard dropped the staff, his hand blistering, melting before his eyes as his agonised screams rent the air. Nothing could stop this now; nothing could prevent the magic eating at his flesh, at his bones, as he liquefied beneath the red uniform before disappearing into the soil itself. The stench of roasting flesh and the discarded scorched clothing was the only sign of the man’s existence.
Ev
eryone nearby fled until only Donovan stood, unbeaten but weakened, his proud eyes on his wife’s face.

“Very clever,” Colson whispered, his breath on Willow’s cheek and a knife-laden hand around her throat. “But too late; the kingdom is mine, it was always mine.” Poor Colson hadn’t noticed the blue flame creeping along Willow’s skin, an unnoticed defence, an unbidden protector, and while Willow sought a way to escape, the flame slithered ever closer.

“Willow.” Donovan had been freed by Garion, and sought to enter the glade but was unable to find a way through the magical protection. Colson chuckled cruelly but his glee soon turned to astonished disbelief and then to fear as he stepped back, his hand ablaze with blue fire, his skin crisping beneath its touch.

“Stop it,” he demanded, “you can have the kingdom. I don’t want it,” he cried, like the spoil
ed b
oy she’d accused him of being.

“I’m sorry,” Willow backed away. “I don’t know how to.” Nothing could stop the process once underway and Lord Colson, son of Bryon, cousin to Lady Willow and once heir to the Kingdom burst into a bright, blue cleansing flame leaving only one undisputed heir to the coveted Kingdom.

“Willow, my love.” Donovan’s arm closed around her and she lay her head against his chest, tears escaping her eyes as she absorbed the death of her cousin. Didn’t that make her a murderer? Only the warmth of her husband’s arm made it any better.

“Well, I didn’t expect that,” Felicity’s cold voice floated through the air, “but I suppose that makes you my heir. I will vacate the throne within the week and retire to my country estate…if you don’t mind.”

“I don’t want the throne. I didn’t want any of this,” Willow tried to explain but Donovan’s cool voice interrupted.

“You will vacate the throne today and remain in exile until Queen Willow determines otherwise. Be mindful, she could have ordered your death but her kindness will allow you to live on in comfort.”
Felicity, once queen, bowed her head knowing it was the new Queen’s right to dispose of the woman who’d hated her all her life and she realised she was getting a better deal than she would have given to Willow.

“I don’t want to be queen,” Willow tugged on her husband’s arm. “I don’t know the first thing about ruling a country.”