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Damn the Slayer. If only he could be trusted.
She had no doubt Westvane would neutralize the Wendigo. Not for her sake. No, never that. He’d recapture the beast for the fun of it. For the challenge of it. For the chance to pit his skills against another’s in the real world.
The Parkland bored him. His loneliness grew by the year, leaving him restless and wanting, more dangerous than ever.
His willingness to hunt for her didn’t mean he would do as she asked. He’d do damage in Earth Realm. Create something for himself. Become what she most feared — exactly like his sire. She’d dreamed of Nygard while he lived, hoping one day to make him hers. Like her sire, he’d betrayed her in the end, joining forces with an Assenta whore, breaking the law, siring a child never meant to be born.
Now, she dreamed of his son.
Dangerous yearnings lived in the dreamscape. Bad things stalked her in the darkness. Premonitions of the future plagued her now. Sending Westvane through theEcotonehad been a mistake. How big a mistake, she’d yet to determine. Her visions blurred before she caught hold of the details, leaving her with an unclear picture of things to come.
Unusual for her.
Normally, she saw the future with all-seeing eyes. Not so with Westvane. The moment he crossed over, her leash on him snapped. Now, the threads tying him to her unraveled, causing her casting pool to turn gray with uncertainty. The shift toward black days worried her. How was she to manipulate and control the outcome if she couldn’t see the future clearly?
An excellent question.
One without a good answer.
The wind rose, howling across snow-capped peaks, whipping ice along the palace walls. Nature’s fury whirled, tempting her to take flight and play in the updraft. Lyonesse ignored the impulse.
A decision needed to be made.
She hated to do it. Didn’t want to kill Westvane, but long experience with him made the way forward undeniable. She closed her eyes.Damn the Slayer.If only he didn’t remind her so much of his sire. Removing such beauty — such divine brutality and supreme skill — from the Mirror Kingdoms counted as a tragedy. Something to mourn, if she were so inclined.
Good thing she was immune to such things.
Grief was a waste of time. A human emotion, more ailment than constructive skill. No queen worthy of her crown had time for such idiocy. A Monarch must show nothing but strength. Her people expected it. Her position demanded it, which meant…
Time to do what she’d been avoiding.
A decision must be made.
Turning from the vast winter-scape, she walked across the balcony, toward the wall of frosted windows. Little more than shadows behind towering double glass doors, her personal guard waited. Waiting to be told why she’d made the trip. Waiting for her to decide. Waiting on her orders, forever ready to do her bidding. She felt the weight of their gazes, but ignored the yoke. Such was a powerful queen. Her life had never been, nor would it ever be, her own.
The doors swung open at her approach.
Two of her guards stepped over the threshold, blocking the wind as she walked into the warmth. Halting just inside, she turned toward her captain. “Anckar.”
He bowed, awaiting her command.
Despising what she must do, Lyonesse stared at the top of his head. Her hands curled into fists. Magic exploded in her palms. Hot pink sparks rained down on the floor tiles beside her feet.
“Majesty?”
“Proceed,” she said, her tone tight. “Open the chamber.”
Keeping his gaze downcast, Anckar straightened and stepped back. “As you wish.”
As she wished.
Here and now… so very far from the truth. Some things, however, couldn’t be avoided. Some things must be met with sword and shield. In the heat of battle. No surrender. No weakness shown. Strong in the face of the ferocious.
Footfalls echoing against hand-painted tile, Anckar exited the room.
Lyonesse followed, refusing to look at the portraits lining the walls, ignoring the dust covers draped like ghosts over furniture as she left one corridor and entered another. The door she dreaded lay in the belly of the beast, deep in the heart of Ramstein Palace. In no time, she stood before the portal, watching her guard slice through the seal preventing entry into the room.
The wax fell away.
