Long Live the Elf Queen: The Elf Queen Book 2

The empty glass vial plopped to the ground at Layala’s side. She tugged on Aunt Evalyn’s arm. Her steps were wobbly, and the antidote would take time to counteract the poison. Layala couldn’t risk a healing rune not working for poison. Layala suspected poison would require a different kind of magic to withdraw or counteract and so she’d made a calculated move.

She slung Aunt Evalyn’s arm across her shoulder and carried them both into a run. “You have to get off this battlefield.”

“That was stupid,” Aunt Evalyn croaked. “You risked the princess’s life.”

“Yeah, well,” Layala murmured. “Now we’re even. She almost got me killed once. And I did what I had to to save you. I knew Thane could heal her.”

“Will Thane see it that way?”

She frowned, knowing her action would hurt him, but this wasn’t the time to worry about it. She could ask for forgiveness, but she couldn’t ask for him to bring Aunt Evalyn back from the dead if she hadn’t taken action. Aunt Evalyn’s toes hit a rock and she stumbled. Layala caught her with her other arm. The pounding of hundreds of horse hooves charging their way kept her from answering aloud.

A lone black horse rode out ahead of the others and turned their way. Layala smiled at the white star on his forehead and the thick black mane—Midnight. And it turned out he wasn’t alone. Tif rode in the saddle. She looked horrified to be here, but that little creature was braver than she ever thought. Shooting out heavy breath, Midnight stopped before them, and Tif said. “Thought you could use some help.”

“You’re the best, Tifapine.” Layala pushed Aunt Evalyn up until she swung her leg over the other side of Midnight. “Now go. Get far away from here. Both of you.”

Tears welled in Tif’s eyes. “Be safe.”

“And take off Tenebris’s head,” Aunt Evalyn said. “Too long has he been afforded breath after what he’s done.”

“I will,” Layala vowed to them both. The thundering of feet drew her gaze. Both sides charged now with only moments before they clashed. Layala gave one last look. “If I don’t survive this, know I love you both, and tell Thane I loved him and I will find him in the next life. Take my ashes to Briar Hollow and bury me next to my parents.” Before she could let a tear fall, she turned and ran. Because it wasn’t just a battlefield she must survive, it was the Black Mage when she woke him.

Her feet flew over the uneven grass, pushing her legs harder with each breath. Thane was out in front of his soldiers by several yards, alone. Maker, he was a bullheaded fool sometimes. He couldn’t even wait for his Ravens to catch up with him? Her heart thudded hard against her ribs.

She searched the enemy’s side for Tenebris. She didn’t know if she could trust Thane to kill his father when it came down to it, so she’d do it for him. Then they could sneak inside the Void and follow their plan. The line of soldiers rushed forward on foot, deep voices roaring and bellowing the way males did before they clashed in battle. Tenebris’s soldiers wore silver armor, easily distinguishable from the Raven coal.

There the tyrant king was, sitting atop his horse in the back with Aldrich beside him. They would have to fight through hundreds of soldiers to get to him. Thane was seconds from colliding with the first soldiers. Legs and arms pumped faster. Her heart lurched; he swung both swords, blocking a blow and shoving the tip of his other blade straight through chest armor as if it wasn’t even there.

“Fightbringer!”

Layala looked left, one of the Ravens pointed up.

Dax swooped down. His shiny pearl scales glinted in the light like a sword. He dropped low enough she threw out her magic to hook it like a lasso on his back horn and up and up they went. “Tenebris!” was all she could manage to say through heavy breathing. She gripped her magical stalk, and in seconds she flew over the heads of the soldiers, ready to spring when she was close to Tenebris. She glanced over to Vaper plowing into a row of the enemy, bowling them over, slashing her massive claws. The screams of terror and pain were horrid.

When she finally killed Tenebris, she hoped the soldiers would surrender and turn to Thane. He was once their king, the rightful heir.

When the Ravens’ horses collided with the line of Palenor soldiers, a sick crunch of hooves on armor and screams of agony made her want to gag. They were elves, not cursed, not mindless beasts who wanted them dead, but high elves like her, following orders of their king. If she could end Tenebris quickly, it might save them too.

Arrows soared past her head and bounced off Dax. Tenebris was close now, but a swarm of soldiers moved in to block him. Concentrated arrows came down like rain. One deflected off her shoulder. She’d never make it without more protection and Layala had asked Dax not to burn the soldiers down unless it was necessary. It was too gruesome of a way to die. Now if they were pale ones, she’d say burn them all.

Layala held out her hand, summoning that power she once used against the dragon prince. It was in her somewhere, even if she hadn’t mastered it.

A warm pulse left her palm and the arrows stuck into a shimmering wall. It formed around her like a bubble. Tenebris had turned his horse and was making a run toward the Void. Coward. Even if he went inside, it wouldn’t stop her. Dax barked out a roaring dragon call and swung her around cutting off, Tenebris’s escape. She sprang off her vine, landing gracefully on her feet and jerked out her father’s sword. She held it out in front of her and Lightbringer’s blade caught the sunlight. Tenebris shielded his eyes from the glare. Good. It was only fitting she ended his life with it.

Tenebris’s horse reared up, and the fear leaching out of him gave her a level of satisfaction she thought only killing him could bring. Every footstep she took brought her closer to the one thing she’d wanted almost more than anything.

Dax let out another throaty call, and with great whooshes soared back to the main fight.

“Your father cried, you know,” Tenebris said, pulling back on his horse’s reins in her advance. Layala’s vines wrapped around the horse’s legs. He wouldn’t be running. “Cried like a little girl before his head fell to the floor. It made the strangest sound, like a watermelon being split in half. I’ll never forget it.”

The hairs on the back of her neck rose along with the flood of heated anger. “Looks like you don’t have Mathekis to save you this time.”

Somewhere in the distance she heard Thane calling out to her. He was too far away to stop her, if that’s what he wanted. He wouldn’t take this moment.

“Layala!” Thane’s voice grew louder, more frantic, closer. Dragons roared and screeched. Elves screamed and weapons collided but none of that mattered right then.

She continued with determination. It was only then that she noticed a dark cloud had amassed at her feet and followed her steps. She paused a moment, but whatever it was, didn’t stop her. She stood a few feet from Tenebris and raised her chin. “Get off your horse and fight me.”

Body visibly shaking, he took out his sword. She was surprised he even had one. After he slid down, all she could think about was how pathetic he looked standing there with his sword awkward in both hands. It was limp to the left side and his stance was all wrong. His armor didn’t have a scratch, too shiny, unused.

One hard swing clacked against his sword, and he sucked in sharply, face scrunching in horror. She nailed him again and sent him stumbling to the ground. “That’s it? You’re the great King Tenebris, the one I feared for so long?”

He rolled onto his back and reached up with one arm to shield himself. “No, please don’t.” She strode forward and kicked him hard in the face and heard the sickening crack of metal on bone. His head snapped to the side and his temple split from the impact of her armor-toed boots. She stomped down on his hand like he once had to her. “Stop,” he choked.

“Stop?” Layala shook with built-up rage, pressing her weight harder onto his hand, grinding her toes back and forth. She hoped every single one of the bones snapped.

He whimpered, trying to pull his hand away, and slammed his other fist into her armor-covered calf. She barely even noticed the hit.

“Why would I do that?” She dropped down and her fist collided with his cheek, cracking bone. “You’re not so tough now that you don’t have others to fight for you. You created an assassin the day you took my parents, and a monster the day you took my mate from me. Oh, you may have put me down for a minute, but it only made me stronger.” She hit him again and again, letting the fury flow through her. He curled into himself on his side. She stood over him, shaking her head. Maker, he was pathetic.

Among the shouts and the weapons clashing, and dragons roaring, she heard Thane call to her again. This time she looked for him in the fighting and chaos. What if he needed her? But she found Dax and a sleek black dragon—Varlett clawing and biting at each other in midair. A sharp sting seared Layala’s thigh, and she nearly dropped from the shock of it. Only the gold hilt of the dagger showed, and the blade must have struck bone. She gasped at the wave of pain that suddenly washed through her and leaned all her weight to the left. Tenebris got up and ran toward the Void.

With a roar through her teeth, she jerked the blade free, and a wave of nausea hit. It hurt more to pull it out. “You’re not getting away, Tenebris!” She took off after him, pushing through the pain and blood pouring down her knee over her shin. A throwing star to the back of his thigh made him arch and cry out then he dropped to his hands, crawling now. Crawling like the worm he was.

With no care as to how much it would hurt her injury, she caught up to him and kicked him hard in the ribs, dropping him to his side, gasping for air. “Wait, wait don’t kill me,” he begged. Blood flowed down over his left eye and the swelling had already started from her hits. “We can make a deal. Thane can have the throne. You can be queen. I’ll—I’ll go away, far away.”

Angry tears burned her eyes. She imagined her parents might have asked for him to spare them and their pleas fell on deaf ears. With her sword raised and the point angled at his chest, she said, “This is for my parents, for Reina, for all the people you’ve hurt and murdered, for Thane, and—for me.”

“Layala, look out!” Thane bellowed only yards away now.

Varlett’s dragon form careened toward her at the speed of a shooting star. Black talons shone in the sunlight, her mighty roar pierced Layala’s ears, so loud she thought her eardrums would burst and bleed. Instead of plunging that blade through Tenebris, she turned to bring up her magical shield, but the hit was like a mountain falling on top of her, driving her into the grass and dirt, whisking the air from her lungs, then those ebony talons wrapped around her body, and she was in the air, rising faster and faster. Her fuzzy mind whirled. The dragon’s grip was so tight around her she couldn’t move, could hardly breathe. She gripped her sword’s handle, laying on her chest, like it was her last line of survival.

She willed her magic to set her free… where were her vines, her shield… anything? “You forgot I know more about magic than you, Layala. You can’t hurt me.”

“Why didn’t you let me kill him!” Layala screamed and her throat burned. “Why!”

“Oh, did I steal your moment? My apologies,” she crooned. “But you have more important things to do.” Red slashes covered her chest and neck area, gaping wounds that could only be from Dax’s talons. But what happened to him? She peered down and his giant body lay off in the field far away from the ongoing battle. When he slowly rose, she sighed in relief.

“I was going to go to him on my own!” She was wracked with an involuntary shudder giving in to his words from her dreams. “Come to me,” he’d said and now she was.

“So you can kill him? I don’t think so.”

Layala’s tense body went limp—defeated, flying a hundred feet in the air in the clutches of her enemy. She watched Tenebris grow small, and Thane looked up at her with terror. Why couldn’t this one thing work out? Why was that wretched elf always spared?

The black mist swirled in the wake of Varlett’s whooshing wings. The black bogs, the stink, and the waiting groups of pale ones littering the ground made her stomach turn. She was in the Void and there was no turning back now.

It only took moments for the landscape to change. As if a desert oasis grew out of seemingly nowhere, thick trees with wide tropical—red fronds, shoots of tall bamboo, kapok trees but with thick maroon leaves and massive branches… so unusual. She could hardly believe it. Was it a magic trick? A full red jungle, not devoid of life like everyone thought. She’d never heard of anything like it. But strangest of all, rising in the center, was a single, white brick tower. Its pointed roof peaked out of the canopy of the jungle. She’d expect it to be dark and menacing if anything, but it was—quaint, almost inviting. It reminded her of the mage’s tower in Doonafell.

Varlett’s great wings beat rapidly as they lowered to a massive clearing at the base of the tower. She opened her paws several feet from the surface and Layala dropped, freefalling until she smacked into the soft dark-brown earth. Facedown on the ground, she spit dirt and leaves, and swiped the back of her hand across her mouth. The pain in her thigh throbbed but she was thankful the forest floor was covered in thick foliage and reddish moss or that drop would have been excruciating. She slowly pushed herself up, struggling through the stiffening and tingling in her leg and shoved Lightbringer back in her scabbard. The scent of jasmine wafted on the thick, humid air. Lifting her head, she spotted the small white flowers and their green leaves, growing all around the single door in the tower. And that door was covered in—lavender butterflies.

Sharp talons scraped loudly against Layala’s back armor then the dragon gripped her left arm and jerked her up. “Move.”

The stab wound radiated pain as she limped forward. A small part of her wanted to rely on Varlett’s assistance but she tore her arm away. With a shrug, Varlett strode ahead and took hold of the gold ring on the door, the butterflies scattered taking to the air by the hundreds. Layala watched them circle around her in a whirlwind then disappear into the jungle.

She found it odd there were no birds here singing in the trees. Insects hummed and the wind rustled the tops of the red leaves but no familiar bird calls. With a quick glance around the trunks and foliage, she found gleaming eyes watching from the shadows. A pale one leaned out from behind a tree and stared back at her. She jumped, ready to pull Lightbringer again but the creature didn’t move to attack, didn’t screech, or holler like they’d always done before. He simply watched.

With a deep breath she searched the skies one last time, with hope that Thane and Vaper might show, or Piper and Prince Ronan. She found only the sun peeking through the dark misty haze.

Layala touched the dagger on her hip, and Lightbringer on her back, ensuring they were there and stepped through the entrance.

Mathekis waited in the shadows. His black eyes gleamed in the dark until he stepped into the light. He looked her up and down and his black lips twisted down. “I suppose there’s no time to make you presentable.”

She didn’t know what about her appearance he didn’t approve of, but she couldn’t care less what he thought. The small foyer led directly to a set of stairs, short ivory candles lit in small alcoves in the stone walls, but there were no windows to provide light. A wood handrail lined the left side of the wall; she grabbed hold and started her ascent, skin crawling with Mathekis so close behind. A feeling crept over her that the Black Mage would be at the very top. This would be a painful climb.

The first hundred or so steps were like fire searing her bleeding thigh, but soon numbness took over, diluting the pain to a dull ache. She didn’t know if that was a good or bad sign, but she didn’t stop. She couldn’t hear Varlett. The wench was probably already waiting.

She finally reached the top floor, and the smell of jasmine trickled into her senses, again. She stilled. Why did it remind her of… something? She didn’t know what. It was like a known but forgotten name on the tip of her tongue, and all she needed was a reminder.

Varlett leaned against the wall, inspecting her talons as if the wait vexed her. “About time,” she said.

“Well, in case you didn’t notice, I’ve been stabbed.” If she thought she could beat her in a fight, they’d have it out right then. But until she found a way to break through Varlett’s magical shield, that would have to wait.

“Did you stab her?” Mathekis accused.

“I haven’t touched her,” Varlett growled.

“No, you just almost crushed me into the ground.”

A single torch burned, giving off a low orange light. Layala snatched it off the wall and angrily strode by. At the end of the empty corridor waited double doors. He was in there, wasn’t he? She swallowed hard, moving forward, slower now. This had been the plan since they left House Drakonan, but Thane was supposed to be with her, and being here was much different than imagining it. She almost felt him, or a sense of longing, something pulling her that way. It’s your blood connection, the goddess said. Ugh, she wanted to vomit the closer she drew.

“About our deal,” Varlett’s steps were eerily quiet behind her, like she weighed nothing at all. Her voice was suddenly in Layala’s mind, “It’s silence—what I’m going to require of you.”

Layala looked over her shoulder. “What?” Goosebumps slid across her skin. How had she spoken to her mind like that?

Without moving her mouth, she said, “Soon you will know a detail about Zaurahel and me, something you saw. You must never tell him or anyone. You’ll know what I’m talking about.”

Mathekis looked back and forth between them, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“You’re making no sense,” Layala said.

“You’ll understand one day,” she whispered in Layala’s mind. “If your shiny new magic and that black cloud I witnessed around you earlier is any indication, it will be soon.”

“Keeping secrets, Varlett?” Mathekis said, casually, as if he didn’t care but it was obvious, he did.

“It’s between the elf and me.”

Was this a riddle? How could Layala know anything about Varlett and Zaurahel?

With Layala’s slow limp, they finally reached the end of the short corridor, and she held the torch closer to the shiny black wood. The carvings, similar to the Black Mage’s chair, were of lilies and serpents, intertwined together, weaving like an intricate dance. Something about the contrast between those two things was undeniably beautiful.

Steeling her nerves, Layala inhaled deeply. It was now or never. Her magic soared inside, biting at her flesh, ready to unleash hell. No doubt Varlett would have dosed her with katagas serum if they didn’t need her magic. Even if they said the Black Mage was in a deep slumber, she had to be ready for the possibility he waited, perfectly alert to fight on the other side.

But she paused with her hand on the door. “Why did you need Tenebris’s and Mathekis’s help? Why didn’t you just bring me here the day I came to your cabin in the mountains?”

“Zaurahel never told me how to wake him. As I said, we had a falling out.”

“But he told Mathekis?” She looked at him.

He nodded. “Though from what Varlett says, you already know what to do. I’m here to ensure what you were told was correct.”

“And Tenebris?”

“Made a deal with Zaurahel,” Varlett answered. “We all have our own secrets and parts to play.”

He made a deal four hundred years ago? She didn’t even want to know the details. Shoving her shoulder into the doors, she pushed through. Her gaze fell to the stone table and the body lying on top of it. No windows let in light. It was but a round tomb of ivory brick.

Something itched at the back of her mind; something about her dreams reminded her of this. One foot crossed the threshold, then two. She expected to hear Varlett trailing her, but the dragon shifter stood on the other side. Her scrunched, confused face turned to one of panic. Her hands pressed on the air in the middle of the doorway as if it was solid. “I—can’t pass through.” She even sounded like she was on the other side of a wall.

Mathekis, however, came inside with ease. “Interesting he would bar you, Varlett. You must have really angered him during that fallout.”

She let out a low growl. “Fix it, Mathekis.”

“You’ll wait and be invited in when he wakes.”

Layala full-on grinned at the dragon’s plight. Even her smallest inconvenience made Layala’s day.

“Layala, you must not kill him. Please. The goddess didn’t tell you everything.”

“I won’t allow her to,” Mathekis said and folded his hands behind his back, waiting beside the door like a sentinel. “Relax, Varlett.”

Layala ignored the dragon’s muffled pleas and Mathekis’s promises. They wouldn’t stop her. She planned for the possibility of them being here.

Her heart hammered with every footstep, quiet taps that seemed so loud now. It was as if a hush fell over everything. The torch in her hand crackled and sizzled, but that was the only sound. The hairs on the nape of her neck rose. The Black Mage’s chest didn’t move up and down with breath. He was utterly still. Would he somehow be perfectly preserved for four hundred years without a beating heart? Was he a pale one? Her eyes trailed over his black boots, then up the thick leather, fitted pants. At his waist a silver buckle etched with a rune at its center. A deep red leather, silver-studded vest covered his upper body, and an ebony cloak wrapped around his shoulders draped onto the floor. She was mere feet away now.

She gasped. The rushing of her blood throbbed in her ears. She gulped and took a step back. His ashy, near black hair brushed against his shoulders, curling slightly. His fair skin looked exactly like someone who hadn’t seen the sun in hundreds of years, but he wasn’t milky white like a pale one, and he didn’t have black lips or the dark circles around his eyes. She blinked several times, scrutinizing every inch of his remarkably beautiful face. Maker above, he looked so much like… Thane.