Realm of Mirrors (The DeathSpeaker Codex Book 3) (27 page)

Levoran gasped. “Lord Daoin!”

Without a word, Daoin drew his sword and charged.

The struggle was short-lived.

Levoran was too stunned, and too loyal, to put up much of a fight. He didn’t even touch his sword. When Daoin swung at him, he leaned out of the way and made a half-hearted attempt to shove him.

Daoin shoved back. And though Levoran was nearly twice his size, he shouldered him to the ground. Then he grabbed the dead guard one-handed, flung him back-first against one of the stone columns—and drove the sword through both him and the column with a horrible grinding sound. Sparks showered to the floor behind him as metal screamed through stone.

“I’m all right,” Levoran gasped, waving a dismissive hand. “Still dead.”

He shuddered, and his head rolled forward bonelessly.

Daoin trained a flat blue gaze on him. “Shall I finish him, Highness?” he said in a deep, rich voice that was nothing like the Daoin I knew.

“No,
gallae
. You’ve done well…you have pleased me,” she said. “Leave him for now and come to me.”

My mind refused to understand the word she called him,
gallae
. The closest I could get was
my sweet bitch
.

Some term of endearment.

“Of course. I live to please you, Moirehna.” His eyes softened as he looked at her. If he was under some kind of spell, it was an extremely natural one—because he seemed happy, almost proud to do as she told him. He mounted the platform, went to her side and looked out across the room. “What of these others?” he said. “Are they a threat to you?”

His cold stare held absolutely no recognition. He didn’t know us—any of us.

Without even seeing him, I could feel Taeral’s pain.

“Not particularly,” the Queen said. “But there is one I’d like you to…deal with.”

She gestured at me, an impatient flick of her wrist. And I could move again.

“What the hell did you do to him?” I had to forcibly restrain myself from trying a spell. I only had one in me, and something told me it would be wasted on her. The power rolled from her in waves, bright as a beacon.

Whatever I did with my last bit of magic, I had to make it count.

She laughed. I shook my head, trying to dislodge the sound from my brain—it was enthralling, pure as silver bells. “Why, I’ve restored his memories,” she said. “For the most part. At least those of the years before he had such determined, foolishly daring sons. A time when his loyalties lay only with me, his Queen.” Her smile was lethal. “And I’ll restore the rest…after he’s killed you, and your oh-so-noble brother. So that he must live with the knowledge of exactly what he’s done.”

Jesus Christ. There was no way I could take Daoin—not like this, with his magic and physical strength intact. He’d been a feared warrior in Arcadia for centuries, and I had zero chance against him. But maybe I could keep the Queen talking until I figured something out.

“So you can only have his loyalty through magic,” I said. “Isn’t that kind of a letdown?”

Daoin snarled and went for his sword, but she held him back with a touch. “Surely you do not think
you
can rattle me,” she said. “You, the whelp of that filthy human whore who stole him from me. And you are the DeathSpeaker as well.” She walked forward a few steps. “That alone merits your death sentence, before you become too powerful. If that is possible with human blood in your veins.”

“Maybe I’m already too powerful.” I jerked forward, like I was going to attack.

In a single, lightning move, Daoin jumped from the platform to land at the bottom of the stairs with his sword drawn. He glowed with a threatening black light. “Move again, foul halfling spawn, and I’ll lay you open and strike you dead before your guts hit the floor.”

And I thought Uriskel was terrifying. At full power, Daoin made him look like a newborn puppy.

“It delights me so to hear you say such things,” the Queen trilled. “But take your time,
gallae
. Kill him slowly. I wish to savor his anguish, like the finest of sweet wine.”

Daion gave a frosted smile, colder than deep winter. “It will be my pleasure, Highness.”

“Wait!” Desperation sparked an insane idea that would probably make things worse—but it was my only play. Levoran said the Queen wanted the moonstone.

So I’d give it to her…and hope like hell she commanded her loyal Guard to deliver it.

An expression of bemused impatience crossed her face. “The worm wishes to speak?” she said. “Choose your words carefully, whelp. They will be your last before you scream.”

Right. No pressure. “You like loyalty, right?” I said. “Well, I like being alive. So I’ll swear loyalty to you, in exchange for my life. I even have a gift to prove my devotion.”

I tried not to think about how the others were feeling right now. They could still hear, and they probably wanted to kill me. For a few seconds, I was uncomfortably grateful that they couldn’t move or speak—because they’d ruin any miniscule chance I had.

Her perfect lip curled in disdain. “You’ve nothing I want, halfling brat.”

“Oh, I think I do.” I pulled the pendant out of my shirt. “How about this?”

Her eyes grew impossibly wide. “The master stone,” she breathed. “How did
you
lay hand to that?”

“Doesn’t matter. I have it.”
Master stone
? I couldn’t even begin to figure out what that meant. But I knew one thing—the first time Daoin touched it after we brought him out of Milus Dei, he’d remembered something important.

He remembered that Taeral was his son.

I only hoped it would work again.

The Queen smiled. “Yes. I will have the stone,” she said. “Bring it to me at once,
gallae
.”

Perfect.

I slipped the cord over my head. As Daoin approached with an outstretched hand, I slapped the stone into it—and before he could react, squeezed his fist around it. “
Cuimmáihg
,” I said with all my remaining strength.

Remember.

Daoin went rigid. Clean, blue-white light poured from his fist, bathing the entire room in its glow. He shuddered, stumbled back and dropped to one knee, his mouth open in a silent scream.

“What have you done?” the Queen cried. “You weak, miserable abomination!
What have you done to my love?
”

The light turned off, like a switch being thrown. And Daoin rose slowly, with sheer rage etched into every line of him. He turned to face the Queen in stiff, stilted jerks—like he was almost too angry to move.

“You do not love. Highness.” He raised the pendant in front of him. “
Calhaiom’nae solaas geahlí!
”

My mind whispered a translation. Sword of moonlight.

The moonstone flashed a concentrated burst of light that solidified into a gleaming blue-white blade with a simple hilt. Daoin gripped the sword and reached the platform in a fluid leap, the light of his weapon leaving an ethereal trail in the air behind him.

He drove it into the Queen, just below her ribcage.

Her anguished cry was piercing enough to shatter glass. The force of the blow slammed her into the throne, and he shoved the sword all the way through until the end jutted between the bones of the throne, dripping with blood. A crimson stain bloomed on her white gown and spread quickly.

Daoin wasn’t even breathing hard. “You killed the mother of one son, and exiled the other to her death. You murdered my oldest, most loyal friend. And you’d have had me slaughter my own sons,” he rasped. “I will not only destroy you. I will destroy the very idea of you, and Arcadia will never recall your existence.”

With that he stepped back and drew his dagger, preparing to follow through on his threat.

C
HAPTER 38

“S
tay your hand, Lord Daoin.”

The voice was Uriskel’s. I half-turned to find the rest of them free or moving—Levoran starting to stir, Sadie shivering and looking everywhere at once, and Taeral already headed for the platform. He didn’t even seem to have heard what Uriskel said.

But Daoin did.

“I know you,” he said. “The puppet of the Seelie Court. And I’ve no idea what you’re doing here, but this is not your concern.”

The only sign that the insult bothered him was a slight twitch in his jaw. “It is very much my concern.” He started toward them, pulling his deck of cards as he walked.

I grabbed his arm. “Don’t.”

He paused to glare at me, then shrugged me off and kept walking.

I had to assume he knew what he was doing—and I should probably stay out of all this, anyway. So I went to Sadie, who grabbed my arm frantically and whispered, “I don’t know what to do first. They’re going to kill each other…and look at Reun, and Levoran…”

“I think we should probably wait,” I said. “Just a minute, maybe.”

She looked unconvinced, but she calmed down a little.

Taeral reached the platform first. “Father,” he said, like he barely dared to breathe. “Are you truly restored?”

He faced him with a genuine smile. “Aye. And once I’ve seen this wicked wraith destroyed, we will rejoice together.”

“Why wait? Allow me to join you in her destruction.”

“My son.” Daoin clapped him on the shoulder.

Behind them, the Queen stirred and moaned on her bloody throne. Her eyes opened, glittering with wicked intent, and she raised a slender hand.

Uriskel ran onto the platform and threw one of his cards at her. “
Dhuunad sios’na draíohtae!
”

The card traveled like a rock. It struck her square in the chest and burst into smoke on impact.

And her glamour fell away instantly.

Her skin was true gold, gleaming like metal and tinged with a blush of blue. Delicate pointed ears, hair like blood-red vines with curling, feathered wisps that looked like leaves. Her narrow, heart-shaped face took on harsh angles and shadows, reflecting a promise of cruelty. And her long, triple-jointed fingers ended in sharpened ivory claws. Still beautiful, but in a predatory way—like a tiger, built to kill.

She gritted her teeth and gestured at Uriskel. “
Míilé lahn
.”

He failed to be struck by a thousand knives.

He approached her with an awful grin. As Daoin and Taeral looked on in shock, he grabbed the hilt of the moon sword, pulled it free with a grisly tearing sound, and handed it back to its owner. “Your weapon, Lord Daoin,” he said.

Daoin accepted it slowly. “
Tuariis
,” he said without taking his eyes from Uriskel. The sword collapsed into a pendant again.

“This cannot be,” the Queen gasped. She tried to rise, and fell back on the throne. “Only a full royal can strip another Fae’s magic.”

I’d heard that exact sentence before somewhere. Gee, I wondered where.

“Well, then. I must be a full royal,” Uriskel drawled. “Do you not recognize me, Mother?”

She shuddered and blanched almost as white as her gown. “Uriskel,” she said unevenly.

“Aye. The child you cast off to die…and now, the only heir to your throne.” He took a step forward. “You ignored my existence and left me at the hands of my father. For two centuries. Have you any
idea
what cruelties the Seelie Court is capable of?” he spat. “Compared to them, your idea of torture is a pleasant massage.” His face twisted in disgust. “A thousand knives. Really. Can you do no better than that?
Highness
?”

Taeral and Daoin glanced at each other, and backed slowly down the platform steps.

“You cannot destroy me,” the Queen rasped. “I am your blood. Your mother.”

Uriskel laughed. The absolute contempt in that sound made my skin crawl. “Perhaps Daoin could not destroy you completely, though his will might have given him the edge he’d need. But do not doubt that I could, if I so chose,” he said. “I’ll not do so now, but only because I’ve a worse fate in mind for you.”

She stared at him. “What might that be?”

“You will live, knowing that you can never touch those you’ve tried the hardest to tear down,” he said. “You will swear an oath, a binding promise never to harm nor command harm to my family and loved ones, nor Lord Daoin’s family and loved ones. Nor the Seelie noble.” He paused and clenched a tight fist. “Regarding him, you will restore his magic. You will clothe him. And you’ll erase the memories of every miserable courtesan who’s violated him—and his own as well, if he so chooses.”