Page 15 of Beyond the Mountain (Fae's Captive 4)

“I want it all.” Her fangs lengthen. “It’s mine to take.”

“You will have to kill, Taylor—innocents, children, babes in their mothers’ wombs. Are you prepared for that? Because that’s what war is.”

Her brows knit together. “I want—” She flinches. “Shhh. I didn’t ask you.”

“Taylor?”

She shakes her head. “Nothing. I will do what I must.” Her voice is cold, and she pulls her hand free. “You’ll see. When you’re king of the realms, you’ll thank me.”

“Taylor, please, this isn’t you.”

“I am whoever I want to be.”

“I thought you were my friend,” Beth calls from where she’s chained to the wall. “Or did you forget all about our chats and skinny dipping?”

“Don’t speak to me, changeling.” Taylor, menace rolling from her, cuts her eyes to Beth. “Keep to your own kind.”

“I thought you were my kind,” Beth persists.

“You thought wrong.” Taylor turns her back and strides up the stairs to the throne.

I pull my hand back through the bars, my mate’s warmth fading as quickly as a curl of smoke.

The crowd parts again as Shathinor strides by. He doesn’t even look at us, his head high. He’s dressed in full silver battle regalia, his love of pomp still strong despite all these years.

Brannon turns to follow Shathinor up the wide stairs to the throne.

“This is how you repay me?” I yell through the bars.

Brannon turns, and the black runes pulse along his throat as he approaches through the crowd of warriors. “Repay you for what? Taking everything away from me? Your throne should have been mine.”

“You would never have ruled the winter realm.” I growl. “You don’t have what it takes. Never have.”

“Liar.” He shoves the jailor changeling out of the way and rushes the cage, the impact rattling every bit of the iron. “I will enjoy watching your death.” He presses his face against the metal and doesn’t flinch at the sizzle of flesh.

“I told you.” Thorn rubs his newly-mended arm. “He can’t be trusted. The darkness in him is too great, too evil.”

“Too unseelie for you, Thorn?” Brannon spits.

“Not at all. But too ugly? Definitely.” He grins.

“You won’t be laughing when Shathinor takes your head.”

Thorn shrugs. “Guess not, but at least I’ll still be handsome, even in pieces. Your ugly is permanent.”

“Keep talking, fool. Your last words will be here soon enough.” Brannon backs away. Cenet steps out of his way but gives him a long look. Perhaps he didn’t know that Brannon had been Shathinor’s chosen heir before the war began.

“Shouldn’t have trusted him.” Gareth winces. “I told you so many times that he was ruled by the darkness, too poisoned by Shathinor to ever serve as an honorable member of the Phalanx. I hate to say it, but there it is. I told you, Leander.”

“You told me so, eh?” I grin and hold my fist over him.

“I did. I warned you. Thorn did, too. But you didn’t listen, and now Brannon has gone and—”

I open my fist, and the key to the iron cage Brannon just slipped me dangles from my palm. “Now who’s saying ‘I told you so’?”

15

Taylor

I stand next to the throne, the room filled with soldiers of all types, each of them bound by the desire for blood. Some of them think they’re fighting for freedom. What they’re really fighting for is me.

Shathinor climbs the stairs as the room goes silent. Once at the top, he turns and spreads his arms. “We are here to celebrate the capture of the traitor, the pretender to my throne, Leander Gladion.”

The room erupts in a guttural shout, then quiets again.

Cenet stands on the other side of the throne. He glances at me, but I don’t look at him. He’s beneath my notice.

“Tonight, we cement our alliance, our shared goal of bringing fairness to the realms. War is not an easy choice, but this war is a righteous one. One that will give changelings and lesser fae the equality they deserve, and in the end, make the realms a far better place for all who dwell there.”

Another roar from the crowd. The changelings and lesser fae watch Shathinor with devotion, their eyes alight.

Not Leander. I can feel him, his anger like ant bites on my heart.

But the soldiers believe every slimy word from Shathinor’s mouth, devour the lies like they are starving for them.

“They are,” Taylor says, her voice stronger than ever. It’s as if the link to Leander pulls her forward, presses her consciousness into mine. “They want freedom, and they deserve it. They shouldn’t be slaves. Changelings and lesser fae should be equal with high fae. You know it’s true. Their cause is just, and they want it so badly that they are blind to Shathinor’s ev—”

“Daughter?” Shathinor motions me forward, irritation gilding his tone as if he knows I wasn’t paying attention.

I stand next to him, his cold arm around my waist.

“This perfect blade of death will lead us to victory. With her, we will be invincible. The realms will fall before us.”

This is it. The moment when I embrace the prophecy and take my rightful place at the head of my father’s army. My dark heart craves it. All of Arin is within my grasp. I have but to take it. “Do not forget who you are,” Delantis whispers to me. But she never told me who I am. No one can do that. No one except me. Am I death incarnate? Or am I something different?

The soldiers stare at me, all those upturned faces, but the only one I see is Leander’s. He stands in the cage, his intense gaze like a touch, like his hand on my cheek and his lips brushing against mine. “My love,” he whispers. The bond is stronger than even Shathinor’s attempt to block it. Leander’s love infuses me, coating my heart with warmth.

The pure adoration in his stare, the emotion in his words, the feeling of being cherished—all of it breaks me in ways I didn’t know were possible. My fury seems to melt away like a spring thaw, the need to destroy fading as I bask in his love. I try to fight it, to stand my ground. But what we have is too strong, a love that surmounted my father’s curse, a bond too powerful to ever break. The wall between the old Taylor and what I am cracks, the distinction evaporating as she and I cross the barrier and circle each other around our shared soul. I am her, and she is me. The voice is gone. Because it’s my voice.

My bond with Leander has tamed my feral heart, opened the locked door between the two sides of my nature. I blink away tears as he pours his love into me. “We are one. We will always be one, no matter what form you take.”

I can’t go back to the waif in the woods, but I can’t become the destroyer of worlds. I’m somewhere in the middle, new but the same, old but different.

“You are perfect, little one.” Leander’s calming voice filters through my jumbled mind, calming me. Whatever I am, he loves me. And that has to be enough.

“I’ve been holding back, making sure she focused on honing her new skills, but neglecting her best.” Shathinor turns to me, his eyes infinitely cold. “Death. But tonight, I will unleash her, set her free to deal as much

destruction as she so chooses.” He points to the cage. “The traitors—you will kill all of them. It’s my gift to you.”

I freeze, my heart storming in my chest as the crowd of soldiers roar their approval.

My voice barely makes a sound. “No.”

Shathinor hears it and slashes his hand through the air, silencing the room. “What was that, my princess?”

“I already told you I won’t kill my mate for you.” I kick my chin up.

“I’m afraid you must, my dear heart.” He pulls me tighter against him.

“No.” I wrench myself free of his hold and back away. “That was not our agreement.”

Cenet stands behind my father, his reptilian eyes slitted. “I told you, Father.”

“Silence!” Shathinor thunders, and for the first time, lets his magic loose. Black tendrils flow from his eyes, fingertips, and mouth, the darkness swirling around him like a whirlwind. “Daughter, you will do as I ask.”

“No.” I call forth my own power, the blackness surging inside me. The well of magic is even deeper now that I’ve accepted myself, my mate, and the path we will walk together.

“I was afraid you’d turn on me, give in to that weak fool who lives inside you.” He tsks as his magic grows.

“Leave her alone!” Leander roars from the cage.

“Don’t push me.” I summon black death into my palms and back away from my father.

“I’m afraid pushing you is my job as a loving parent,” he sneers and matches me step for step.

“I’m leaving, and I’m taking them with me. All of them. Including Cecile and the changeling Taylor. I was wrong to ever join with you. I don’t want your throne. I don’t want anything from you.”

“Pathetic.” Shathinor glowers.

“I will kill you if I have to.” I pool my magic in front of me like a shield and keep the explosive orb in my palm. “But I don’t want to.”

“You will kill for me, my dear heart.” He follows me, his rage growing as his magic spirals faster and faster. “You will do everything I ask. And that includes killing your traitorous mate and his friends, my darling princess.”

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