Claiming the Prince: Book One (24 page)

“Just like you assisted me with the Enneahedron? Where is it?”

“It is quite safe.” He winced and grimaced as another dwarf fell, dead, next to him. “But I do believe we should go.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you. I should murder you! You—”

A splintering crack, like lightning, interrupted her. A huge chunk of ceiling crashed. Dwarfs and Elves fled, but not all of them made it clear. A black scaled snout that made Anqa’s beak look like a sweet little canary’s thrust through the hole. A snort of smoke shot from the dragon’s slitted nostrils, filling the hall with sulfur.

“Oh shit,” Magda muttered.

“No more time to argue,” Kirk said. “Hold on.” He placed his hands on Kaelan’s leg.

A jet of violet-white flame funneled down through the hole.

Wrenching, piercing cries filled the hall. A sound she knew too well—the screams of blood spilling.

A wolf’s fangs bore down on her. Two ice blue eyes trembled before her. A low growl rippled out of the beast’s throat. Hero darted down her shirt, balling at the small of her back, digging his claws into her skin.

“Thank you, Kirk,” Python said as he stepped forward.

The brownie bowed. “Yes, Master.”

Python placed a hand on the wolf’s head, which came up to the oracle’s shoulder. Two slate-gray wings stretched from the wolf’s back . . . not a wolf after all.

“Semargl,” she said, hugging Kaelan’s shoulders tight. He groaned softly, but didn’t wake. “I thought they were extinct.”

Python ran his hand over the top of the semargl’s head. “If the Elf King had his way, all of the wolf breed would be.”

Kirk had magically transported them to a rough-hewn stone chamber. Behind Python and the wolf-semargl, a yawning opening as big as a double garage showed the star-soaked sky beyond. On either wall, torches guttered against the salty ocean breeze. The crash of water breaking against rock churned somewhere nearby. Just when she was about to speak, the call of the dragon pierced the night, echoing from a distance.

She swallowed hard, resisting the urge to skewer Python with her dragon blades. “You planned this, didn’t you?”

“No,” Python said, smiling sadly. “I do not make the future, I only see it.”

She laid Kaelan’s head gently down on the stone floor and rose. The semargl’s wings flexed again, his head and ears lowering, his icy eyes never leaving her.

Python stroked the creature’s head. “You’ll have to forgive my friend. She does not trust Elves.”

“All this time, you knew I would come back here?”

“No,” he said. “I only hoped you would. So many visions I’ve had, so many paths that could be, but you are our best chance, our only chance.”

“Chance for what?”

“To bring an end to the Elf King’s tyranny.”

“You mean for him to bring an end to it,” she said, gesturing to Kaelan. “Is he really who you say? An . . .”—her jaw locked up for a second—“Elf Prince?”

“I don’t know,” he said.

“Then why did you say—?”

“Because I foresaw that you would find him and bring him forward. And that is just what you did.”

“I didn’t bring him forward. We were accosted and dragged into Froenz’s hall. And where is the Enneahedron?”

“Here.” Python took it from his pocket and held it out to her.

She hesitated, nonplussed by his willingness to hand it over. Charily, she took it from him. Relief and a fresh influx of much-needed strength passed into her from the smooth stone.

“You will take the Prince and become Radiant, correct?” Python asked.

“Is that why you lured me to this island?” she said.

Python’s expression was impossible to read. “I had to bring you before Froenz and the others.”

“The other dwarfs?”

“There were more eyes in that hall than you realize.”

“Why?”

“I had to convince them to support you.”

“Support me? Froenz was going to kill me.”

“I would’ve persuaded him otherwise,” he said. “It is in their interests to join with the Crown, as much as they hate Elves.”

She stuffed the Enneahedron deep into her front pocket. “I am not an Elf.”

“You are
Ljósálfr
—light elf,” he said.

She shook her head, digging her hands into her hair, grinding her teeth. “What do you want from me?”

“To become Radiant and then take the Crown and then destroy the Elf King,” he said as if it were all so simple and obvious.

“Why don’t you kill the King?” she asked through her teeth.

“The gods have chosen the Elves to rule Alfheim. This cannot be changed. Your strength is our strength. That is what Froenz and so many others in the Resistance choose to forget. If we wiped out all of the Elves, Alfheim would die, we would all die. But if he”—he nodded down to Kaelan—“is the Prince foretold, then you and he can change this world for the better. So all those displaced and exiled can return to their rightful homes. I will do what I can to show the Resistance that
Ljósálfar
are different from the dark elves that rule here. They will not believe at first. They have been hounded, hunted, persecuted, and tortured.”

The semargl whined and nosed Python’s hip. He stroked her head again. “This must be done, Magdalena.”

“You want me to start a war,” she said.

“War has already started,” he said, gold eyes flashing. “Too long your kind has turned your backs on the plight of the other races, ignored the crimes of the King. That has to change. And it will. Yet, my visions . . . they are so dark now. I cannot see what is to come, but I know that you are crucial to this—”

“Then why did you allow Lavana to find me? To nearly kill me?”

“I sent Kirk to rescue you, didn’t I?” he said. “You survived. Your warrior survived. But the Crown must not know about the Resistance. If I had not helped Lavana, she would’ve brought the Crown’s warriors. She would’ve brought attention to those in hiding on the other side. If the Crown finds out that you are colluding with the Resistance, she will kill you. She and the King are already in conference. The King wants her to turn over all the refugees, and to turn back any others who attempt to enter her Lands.”

“You expect me to believe that the Crown is in collusion with the Throne? That’s insane. Why would she—?”

“To prevent war,” he said, “and . . . I am told . . . to save her own life.”

“But—”

“We need this war, Magda,” Python cut in. “Any deal made with the King will result in more of the same. There cannot be peace. The Throne must yield to the Crown and your kind—
you
—must seize control of the Realms and return it to those of us to whom it rightfully belongs.”

The semargl’s wings shot up, buffeting the air, her fangs snapped together. Her growl filled the room. Python stumbled back.

Knives out, Magda spun.

Endreas smiled. “What interesting company you keep, magpie.”

“D
ON’T LISTEN TO HIM
, Magdalena,” Python said from behind her. “He will say whatever he must to meet his ends.”

As Python spoke, Endreas’s gaze hunted over her shoulders—to the semargl and Python—and then down to Kaelan.

He drew one of his swords.

His eyes returned to her. “Step aside.”

“Is it true?” she asked, moving between him and Kaelan. “Is he your brother?”

A dark tremor passed over his eyes. “Step. Aside.”

Hero scrambled down her leg.

“He will attempt to seduce you,” Python hissed from behind her, “to fulfill the older prophecy, to bring the Crown under the yoke of the King. But that is
all
he wants—”

She saw it happening, shadows sweeping around from the edges of Endreas’s body. He was about to move through the Shadow Realms.

She leapt, locking her arm around his neck, and was pulled into the Shadow Realms with him.

When they reemerged, she stumbled back from him. His face was all hard edges, his eyes quaking. They were still in the cave, but on the opposite end, near the opening and the vast darkness stretching beyond.

Python fell as she bumped into his back. The semargl snarled and flapped, skittering aside. Magda regained her balance in time to throw her forearm up against Endreas’s, stopping his sword, which had been arcing towards the semargl.

Her foot struck his chest, pushing him back. As he fell, he slammed his hand into her knee. She yelped, twisting and crashing face-first to the ground. Near Kaelan’s feet, Python was struggling to stand.

Though her knee burned, she pushed up and intercepted Endreas again. They traded blows. But she didn’t use her knives and he never drew his second sword.

His fist struck her kidney and her vision cut out momentarily. He flung her against the wall, knocking the air from her lungs.

She bit back against the pain, pushing off of the wall in a spin and kicked him in the face, breaking his nose.

Blood poured over his mouth. He wove back.

The semargl snapped at him, but Endreas was faster, even when injured. He swept around and sliced the semargl’s front leg. The creature yipped and whined.

“No!” Python howled, charging forward on his own hobbled legs, raising his cane as if to strike Endreas.

Magda, panting, sweat-slick, pain throbbing through her, rushed forward and knocked Python aside into the opposite wall next to the semargl.

The tip of Endreas’s sword, meant for Python, grazed the top of her thigh.

Endreas roared as if he’d been the one wounded and seized her arm, holding her upright as her leg buckled, blood seeping into her jeans.

“Stop protecting them,” he said through his blood-stained teeth.

“Magda?” Kaelan groaned.

She glanced back. Kaelan pushed upright, blinking rapidly.

Tearing away from Endreas, shoving him back for good measure, she unsheathed her knives and took up position between him and Kaelan.

“Leave, Endreas,” she commanded. “Now.”

“I see it,” Python said from where he was leaning against the wall, looking between Kaelan and Endreas. “It is true.”

Endreas swiped the blood from his lips, his nose swelling at the bridge. He glowered at her.

And then he drew his second sword.

“Magda, what’s happening?” Kaelan breathed from close behind her.

“You must kill him,” Python ordered her, inching away from Endreas towards the back of the room and a small, dimly lit door.

From some place deep down, a tremble worked through her as she held Endreas’s gaze.

Kaelan’s tone was perplexed. “Magda—?”

“I’ll tell you what’s happening, brother,” Endreas said without looking away from Magda. “You’re supposed to be dead.”

Endreas surged forward.

She sprang to meet him, slicing into his upper arm under the scale of his pauldron. His forward sword clattered to the ground. He didn’t move to attack her. Her wolf blade slashed down through the leather bracers and into his right wrist. His second sword fell too.

Before she could pin him fully, he slammed his shoulder down into her and flipped her up and over.

So that’s why he’d let her get so close.

She expected to land on her back, but instead she landed on her butt . . . on the ledge, her legs dangling, her shoulders tipping forward . . .

“Magda!”

. . . and over.

Her daggers scraped the cliff face as she tumbled out and down.

A glimpse of white water, of jagged stone, of brilliant stars, head over heels, cold sea air biting at her skin, stealing the breath from her lungs, she plummeted.

The roar of the wind in her ears was matched only by the ocean waves crashing against the cliff below.

She squeezed her eyes shut.

Someone slammed into her, spinning her into a whirlwind of shadow.

She blacked out.