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Thorin snarled. She’ll have no choice once her mates are dead. He curled his hands into claws, tempted to have his soldiers slaughter the entire village. They would, too, for Thorin had already convinced them the satyrs were demon possessed and only his magic could cleanse them.
It will take too much magic to alter our memories, the old satyr continued. Your magic isn’t a limitless well. By the time you reach Flora, you will be too drained to defeat Marius and Derrick. They will kill you, and with your death, your memory curses will be lifted. Then all this will have been for nothing.
“You’re wrong!” Thorin roared, the magic flowing through his veins turning to liquid iron. “My magic is endless.”
“You’re a fool if you believe that.” Naji shook his head. “I pity you, Thorin, for your blackened heart and poisoned mind.”
“I don’t need your pity, you foolish old goat.” Thorin flung out his hands and hit the satyrs with a torrent of blinding magic. Their neighs and screams pierced the air before their voices were silenced as an endless well continued to flow out of him. Naji was wrong. He would never run out of magic, for it was fueled by Thorin’s love for Flora. One day she would be his, and together they would rule the Fae lands.
Chapter One
Selig
Present day
Selig paced what was left of the great room, careful not to slip on the water that still streaked the floor. Though the wall of windows was nothing more than shattered glass ground into the carpets, the ceiling hadn’t caved thanks to that blasted tree. The glass dome concaved inward, buckling against the limbs like a cloth draped over an outstretched hand. Most soldiers had been too afraid to follow Selig into the great room, though the mage trusted the strength of the white witch’s magic and knew the tree would hold for centuries more. Chewing his nails to the quick, anxiety ratcheted up his spine while he continued to pace. His demon had gone suspiciously silent, offering him no comfort while hiding in the recesses of his mind. Though perhaps it was for the best that his demon remained hidden when so many of the remaining soldiers already eyed him with distrust.
He spun around, glaring at the tall entryway doors when footsteps echoed outside.
One of the doors creaked open then completely fell off the hinges, scattering debris everywhere when it hit the ground with a heavy thud.
Selig gritted his teeth, glaring at the Windhaven half-human, half-Fae courier with the disheveled hair the color of sand, his tattered beret sitting askew on his head, the one feather poking out of it bent at an odd angle. His puffy lavender satin pantaloons had a wide piss stain on the crotch that still hadn’t dried. Not that Selig cared about the courier’s appearance. Everyone here was looking a little rough after Arabella Viggo’s cyclone had brought down half the castle, and then the flood from the blast had nearly destroyed the entire city. Only a handful of the Windhaven servants still remained in Caldaria, the rest having scattered. Those who remained were loyal out of fear, for he could read it in their minds easily enough. He knew they’d scatter, too, after they found their courage. Just as all the Peloponese servants had done, following the dragon army to the Western Coast.
The color drained from the courier’s face as he approached, his slippers making squishy sounds on the grass that partially carpeted the floor.
“Well?” Selig asked with impatience while rubbing his bearded chin. “What news?” Fear jumped off the courier’s skin in electrified currents, his thoughts nothing but a swirling ball of terror.
“My Lord,” he said as he bowed low, “we have confirmation that Queen Malvolia captured the prince.”
Selig let out a snarl. “Damn.”
“There’s more, My Lord,” the courier said as he pressed trembling hands to his sides. “The prince’s dragon has already freed him.”
Selig’s breath caught, and he had to work hard to find his voice. “Freed him?”
The courier nodded. “Knocked off the top of Malvolia’s prison tower and pulled the prince from a cell.”
Selig inwardly smiled. This was excellent news. He jutted a foot toward the courier, fighting the urge to grab him by his collar and shake faster answers out of him. “Where are they?”
The courier visibly swallowed, taking a large step back. “The dragon was seen flying toward Thesan with the prince in his claws.”
Selig gasped. Thesan? Why there of all places? He resumed his pacing while stroking his scraggly beard. Had Helian followed his white witch whore? And why wasn’t the prince riding astride his dragon? He advanced on the courier. “Not on his back?”
The courier took another step back. “No, My Lord.”
This wasn’t good. “Was the prince dead?”
He shook his head. “He was heard yelling at his dragon to put him on his back.”
Selig’s veins turned to ice. “And the dragon refused?”
“Yes, My Lord.”
Selig anxiously chewed his lip as his demon let out a low chuckle in his mind. “There can be only one reason for that,” he mumbled. If Helian was demon possessed, it could either work for or against them. Selig had a sickening feeling the white witch wouldn’t stop until she found a way to expel the demon, which didn’t bode well for any of them.
“What reason, My Lord?”
His gaze snapped to the courier. “Never you mind.” He waved away his concern with a sneer. “And the other dragons? Have they responded to my summons?”
