Page 12 of Queen of Legends and Lies
Deep in my core, the spark of my magic flares. My fire gushes out, not to run along his flesh, but to dance through his body. I hold him tight, pulsing with desire.
The world falls away, the very air charged with the current of our connection. Sterling and I, a fusion of ice and fire, meld together in a chaotic swirl of give and take. I’m aware of his every sigh and shift.
Each caress pulses through my being, and I release a breath I’ve been holding for an eternity. “More.”
Sterling complies, his movements mirroring my urgency. A storm brews within me, a tempest of emotion and elemental force that I’ve never felt before. Raw power gathers at our joined hands, our locked eyes, our entwined hearts.
And then, as I crest into a wave of pleasure so intense it borders on painful, I sense it.
Suddenly, I am awake and breathless, my body damp with sweat and sated. My power surges forth, unbidden and fierce enough to snap my eyes open.
I gasp, lost in the sensation, attributing this heightened state to Sterling’s adept touch, to the love that consumes us both.
As my head starts to clear from sleep, I register the noises outside my windows.
The shouts are loud enough to penetrate the glass and walls.
“Put that damned thing out!”
“What the hells? You want to burn the whole garden down?”
“Sorry, Mila!” comes the bewildered response. “It just…exploded.”
I groan, realizing I am no longer in the dream state. No longer in that perfect place where I could be with Sterling so completely.
I roll onto my side, filled with a curious mix of vitality and exhaustion. A few ever-lights dot the walls, and the flames from the candles and lamps cast dancing shadows across the expansive suite.
“Did I do that?” I murmur, half to myself, half to the memory of Sterling that lingers like frost on my lips.
But this time, there’s no answer.
“Hold on, my love. I’ll get you back.” I know he can’t hear me, know he’s somewhere far away, fighting his own battles, but tonight has given me new conviction.
A fierce need to act, to save Sterling, to cleanse the land of corruption, pulses through me. It strengthens my resolve, even as the softness of the bed invites me to stay, to rest, to dream once more.
As sleep claims me again, I hold on to the certainty that I will bring him home. That, together, we’ll face whatever nightmares await us. Because if tonight has taught me anything, it’s that our powers are greater than we know, and hope is a weapon all its own.
Chapter Five
Light filters through the windows as I head toward Queen Alannah’s quarters, the weight of delayed confessions pressing down on me. The palace is awake, the servants scuttling through the halls in a rush to perform their tasks.
“Your Highness.” A petite maid with chin-length blond hair catches my attention with a slight curtsy as I approach what should be the door to the queen’s rooms. I sigh, expecting to hear Alannah is not able to accept guests today. “The dowager queen is in her garden at this hour.”
“Thank you.” I offer her a nod, grateful for the direction and for one less barrier between me and my mission.
I follow the path she gave me, my steps echoing softly across the marble floors, until the scent of the earth leads me outside.
This garden, separate from all the other palace gardens, greets me with a flourish of colors and fragrant scents that would steal my breath on any other day. Like the healer’s gardens, thick panels of fine, clear glass surround this space. Outside, the summer is ending, but within these walls, the growing season never ends.
The warm sunlight gilds Alannah Barda’s nearly white hair as she putters among her beloved plants. Within the confines of her garden, Sterling’s mother almost resembles a wraith of mist.
Her hands delve deep into the soil filling the raised, stone-lined beds. She tends to life with a tenderness that suggests frailty has taken over her life in recent years. The sight evokes a pang of sorrow. She’s unaware of the storm brewing just beyond her tranquil haven.
Two maids, young and unfamiliar to me, sit on a bench nearby, waiting to assist with any issue that might arise. The dark-haired one with a beauty mark on her cheek bows from her seat, her eyes never leaving her elderly charge. The other one, with red hair peeking out from under her cap, also bows once she notices me.
The servants are always the first to know when the power shifts within the palace. Last week, they would’ve simply stared at me.
Stepping into the sun-dappled space, I steel myself for the conversation ahead. The garden’s vibrant, living tapestry is oblivious to human anguish. Dwarf trees are bent into stylish shapes with vines draped artistically to frame the myriad of colors growing underneath.
