Night of the Storm: An Epic Fantasy Novel (The Eura Chronicles Book 2) (11 page)

WAKING UP IN AN EMPTY ROOM
was jarring.

Lilae sat up in her bed as heat filled her legs, like when she’d run for too long with Pirin and the twins.

She rubbed her legs in an attempt to ease the lingering pain. All she remembered was darkness, agony, and Dragnor’s face.

But, to her delight, Liam was there, waiting for her to wake up.

“How do you feel?” Liam handed her a warm cup of tea. “The healer retired for the evening. I refused to leave you here all alone.”

The corners of Lilae’s lips lifted as their eyes met. She accepted the cup, a ragged cough coming out instead of words of gratitude.

Liam put a hand on her back and started gently patting it.

“I’m okay,” Lilae said in between coughs. She winced, an unsettling rush of heat filling her once again.

Liam sat in the chair beside her, watching with concern-filled eyes. “Do you need anything else?”

Lilae shook her head. The coughs ceased. “Thank you, Liam.”

She tried to steady her hands as she took a sip of the dark liquid, delighted by the surprisingly sweet and minty flavor. She let out a long breath as she leaned back against the wall.

“What happened?”

He folded his arms and leaned his back against the door. “The tattoos Dragnor put on you. He used them to hurt you.”

Remembering his face in her dreams horrified her.

What was Dragnor up to?

Could he truly hurt her from so far away?

Lilae’s face paled. “I almost forgot about his promise. He’ll never let me be.”

“The Gollushan healers were able to suppress its effects with a little magic of their own. We just don’t know how long it will last.”

“So, I am at his will again.” Lilae lowered her eyes to the symbols on her arm. She wished she could claw them off.

“I hate to see you suffer. There has to be something I can do.”

“You can relax. I’ll be okay.” Lilae forced a smile despite the anger boiling inside of her. “I’m stronger than I look.”

“I don’t doubt it. We have to stop the Shadow Elf that did this to you.”

“I know. I should have killed him when I had the chance.”

Liam stepped away from the door and knelt down before Lilae’s bed.

“Give me your hand,” he said, a curious smile on his face. “I want to try something.”

Lilae sat up a little straighter when Liam took her hand into his own. She bit her lip as he placed the palm of her hand against his cheek.

He was so warm, and his scent was nearly intoxicating. She would be happy to be close to him always.

She eyed his full lips as he closed his eyes.

“Relax,” Liam whispered.

“Okay. I will try.”

Lilae was sure he’d hear her heart beating and tried to slow her breaths.

She jumped when a flood of cold filled her. The sensation was unlike anything she’d ever felt. It was as if Liam replaced her blood with cold water. Curious, she watched his face, seeing the glow of his skin fading. Her eyes widened when she noticed that her skin started to glow.

The pain started to lessen.

“Oh my,” Lilae breathed.

“You felt that?”

That would be an understatement.

“Yes. I still do.”

“Splendid.” His eyes brightened. “How do you feel?”

“I could kiss you,” Lilae joked. “I feel amazing.”

Liam didn’t reply. Instead, he leaned over and kissed Lilae on the cheek.

He stood, and Lilae’s hand touched the spot his soft lips had touched.

“I’ve never used my Enchant on a person before,” he said. “Hopefully, its effects will last.” He opened the door. “And if the pain returns, I’ll use it again.”

Lilae nodded, watching him with disappointment as he began to leave.

“Don’t go,” she whispered.

Liam paused. “What was that?” He looked back at her.

Lilae swallowed. “Stay with me. Please.”

“Are you sure?”

“I am.”

Liam nodded. His face turned serious.

Was he was conflicted by her request?

Doubt filled Lilae. Did she really just say that? Her mind raced. She’d never been so forward before. But Liam gave her courage, and she now understood just how short life was.

Too short to hide one’s feelings and desires.

Lilae took a breath and pulled the quilt aside so that he could climb into bed with her.

“Please.” She offered a smile.

Sharing a bed with a man before marriage wasn’t proper, but she cared nothing about such things. She just needed Liam’s company and perhaps his protection.

Nothing more.

She didn’t want to be alone—not with Dragnor threatening to invade her dreams. Liam was her dream man. Perhaps just being near him would fight that Shadow Elf’s evil.

Liam closed the heavy door and took off his boots. She scooted and let him under the quilt with her. Her heart raced. Having him so close excited her. Turning her back to his chest, she melted into his warm embrace.

Bliss.

“I do hope you get to meet my mother one day, Lilae,” Liam whispered. “I think she’d adore you.”

“I’ve never met a queen before. What is she like?”

“My mother is kind, wise, and always made sure I knew she loved me.”

“Lucky,” Lilae said, closing her eyes as sleep began to overtake her. “I wish I’d had that growing up.”

Liam held her close, his warmth relaxing her into oblivion. “You can have that now.”

Lilae drifted to sleep with the sound of Liam’s breathing and the feel of his breath on her hair.

“Goodnight, Lilae.”

SOON SONA WOULD FACE
the woman that had once looked at her with love. The mother of the man she had loved with every ounce of her being.

Aria had no idea what was coming.

The look in Liam’s eyes when she’d stabbed him still haunted her.

Now, she had to ruin his mother.

Sickened by her own deeds, Sona walked through the abandoned manor with her swords down at her sides. Despite the current state of Oren, the manor she had grown up in looked virtually untouched.

Even as the green fog lingered in the air, seeping into the large building, one could clearly see the glory of what it once was. Beautiful tapestries still hung on the stone walls. Lush carpets still stretched unruffled along the quartz floors.

Once she entered the main hall, she slid the swords into their harness against her back. Emperor Kavien’s words still circulated within her mind.

There was something about that man she just couldn’t understand. She wondered if his insanity was for the good of the new world, or if there was someone better to take his place. Someone like her.

She heard something, footsteps, and turned around. A servant peered around the corner of the wall at her. He was sickly, barely more than a pale skeleton.

Sona raised an eyebrow. He looked afraid. He was all alone. She met his eyes and slowly took a small knife out of her belt. He glanced down at her hand, and she threw it at him, tossing him backward as the blade impaled his skull.

Leave no one alive.

She felt a lump in her throat as she listened to the silence. His small body lay sprawled before the grand archway leading into the main hall.

She’d killed her entire family.

She looked up at her father. He hung from his neck at the top of the staircase.

Lord Rochfort had made her what she was. Even then, his soulless, lifeless, eyes frightened her. She stared at him, half expecting him to come down and scold her for ruining their plan. He would beat her, making sure to leave her face untouched. That face was his only chance to gain influence in the Orenian palace.

Sona was his sixth daughter, the only one bred to possess Charm. Children were like a lottery to him, always anxious to see what skill they would be born with. Five children were born with nothing. Sona was born with a skill that would ruin any shred of her virtue.

Charm was something that could either be a blessing or a curse, depending on how it was used. Lord Rochfort made sure Sona never knew what a childhood or even a true moment of love was like.

Now, he was dead, and Sona had killed him. She’d wrapped the rope around his neck and kicked him off the banister. With her increased powers, he’d been defenseless.

“Did you have to have everything?” Sona stared up at him from the bottom of the staircase. 

He couldn’t hear her, and yet she expected an answer. He was one of the wealthiest men in the realm. Why couldn’t he be happy? Still, even as she contemplated such things, she knew she was just like him. She had inherited his blind ambition and wanted more than just influence in the Orenian palace.

Sona wanted the world.

Something dripped onto her forehead. She looked up at the ceiling. Blood was splattered and pooled everywhere. She hadn’t shown mercy to even the lowliest scullery maid. She wiped the blood with the back of her hand, smearing it across her pale, white, forehead.

This is what I’ve become,
she thought.
Death is my best friend.

“Sona?”

Sona tensed at the unexpected voice.

“Is that you?”

Sona turned around and looked blankly at Claus, her grandfather—the last member of her family. She had once thought of him as a friend.

He looked weak, his skin hanging off his face. Just another Tryan affected by Wexcyn’s devastating plague. His bloodshot eyes looked on in horror as he noticed the carnage all around her. Dismembered bodies littered the floor.

“What’s happened here?”

Sona didn’t speak. She slowly crossed the room towards him. Claus reached out for her, as if to embrace her.

She almost felt sad.

Almost.

It didn’t even cross his mind that she was the monster that he feared. To him, she was still that sweet little girl who used to beg him for sugar cubes meant for the horses. In the darkness of the large front room, he couldn’t see that she was soaked in blood. Her black leather concealed the evidence.

Claus met her blue eyes and she cringed. His tear ducts were bleeding red tears.

He’s crying
.
Why?

Such an emotion seemed odd to her. Did he actually care about those people she had slain? They had always treated him like nothing more than the servant that he was. Perhaps seeing what she had become saddened him.

She raised an arm to hug his neck. With one touch, he was hers. He melted into her arms.

Charm was funny that way.

She sighed. It was better for Claus to feel something similar to love in his last moment.

He smiled at her, rubbing her smooth cheek as he had so often when she was a child.

“Good bye, Claus,” she whispered reaching for one of the swords secured to her back.

It glowed green with her touch. With a single, powerful, swipe, Sona sliced his head off.

Claus’s head fell, and his body followed.

Sona looked down at his body. He was the last. She could feel the power of her ancestors pass onto her. Centuries of Tryan knowledge and skills radiated through her. She was the last of the Rochfort clan—a Legacy.

Her Charm and the powers of her entire clan would be unstoppable.

Her smile stretched across her pale face. One chapter of her life had ended, and now, another more ruthless and unforgiving one would begin