Page 104 of A Frozen Pyre
First, she’d need to create something that would allow her to move forward unseen. Ideally, she could kill two birds with one stone and manifest a companion in the battle she knew was coming. Second, manifestation wouldn’t help her as she brainwashed the men. One would need to fall so she could use her newfound abilities in draining to convince them of one story alone: that Ophir had died on the voyage. Third, she would escape, and she would do so alone.
Thirty-Seven
One Hour Following the Wedding
Priory
Galena hadn’t hesitated.
Her vision twitched. She was in the forest. She was outside of Priory. She was safe. Yet her heart still thundered as if she were in Aubade’s coliseum. The screams of tens of thousands clanged in a dissonant cacophony. Their shouts of excitement became cries of fury and pain. Ripples of horror turned into gooseflesh running up and down her arms.
Everything had gone precisely as the others had assured her it would. Injustice had reigned for hundreds of years, and at long last, she had brought hell to them.
“Galena, are you okay?”
Her king was speaking. She looked into his eyes. His face was so kind. His wings flared around her, blocking the trees, the Queen of Tarkhany, the All Mother herself from looking upon Galena’s face to see what she’d done.
She opened her mouth to reply before she reeled, the earth tipping on its axis.
The bishop was talking again. She was back in the coliseum. The man had scarcely inhaled to begin his speech when Ceneth flashed the signal. Galena leaped for her king, and Zita spoke the single word that would be the world’sundoing. The only humans or fae spared from her frenzy would be those neutralized. With a flick of her fingers, man became monster. Pupils all around them dilated as the animals within took over, no sentience or sanity remaining in the madness that engulfed them.
Shielding was the queen’s gift. Frenzy was her curse. And as she was a good, fair queen, the threat of her power was plenty. No one pushed her, nor did they possess the desire. She wasn’t evil. She wouldn’t have called upon her dark ability of her own accord. But then it had come from the princess’s own mouth: She didn’t just want to burn her kingdom to the ground. She wanted to salt the earth when she was done.
Zita hadn’t had time to soak in the animalistic cries tearing through the throats as citizens and nobles clawed each other to shreds. Galena had saved them from Zita’s power, but it wouldn’t protect them from the bishop as he bared his teeth and lunged for them. Zita cast her shield with one hand, maintaining her frenzy with the other. An unseen bubble engulfed Ceneth, Galena, and her. Tempus, still wearing Ophir’s face, clutched Galena’s arm, sparing himself from the madness of Zita’s frenzy. Galena knew he’d lived in fear of her power for years. The day had come for his fear to be vindicated at long last.
From the distance, Ceneth was shouting at her. “Galena, hey, look at me. Open your eyes.”
She wanted to see him. She wanted to be back in the forest.
But she was still in the coliseum.
The bishop glanced off the shield and howled with bloodthirsty rage. He tore at the invisible wall, desperate to dig his fingers and teeth into feathered Raascot wings. Galena cowered at his first downward plunge but then straightened her spine and steeled herself as she faced the madness around her. Ceneth wrapped his arms protectively around her, sheltering her from the gore as chaos unfolded.
A man’s voice cut through the memory.
Her king was speaking.
“She needs help,” Ceneth called.
“She may not be ready for help,” the queen replied.
Perhaps she wasn’t. Perhaps she would never be.
***
Thirty Minutes Following the Wedding
Zita couldn’t tell if she was in a dark room or if she was still battling for consciousness. The world rocked beneath her as if she were at sea. She didn’t understand her surroundings at all until the impact of landing and the flutter of wings informed her that the blackness had been that of feathers.
“How long have I been asleep?”
“We just needed to get out of the city,” Ceneth said quietly. “It’s finished.”
He set her gently to the ground.
She was alive, which surprised her. An immense display of secondary powers often cost the user their life. She’d entered the wedding unsure if she’d make it out. Yet, here she was, opening her eyes in the arms of Raascot’s king.
Thirty minutes prior, she’d stood beside him in the coliseum’s center, prepared to upend the world.
