Page 139 of Of Storm and Emerald
Her entire body buzzed from the magic that had been released through her grief.
She vaguely recalled the weightless feeling as wave after wave of power ripped through her. Could hardly comprehend the strength it took to blast through the countless windows that once filled the walls around the ballroom.
The sound of the torrential rain outside mixed with claps of thunder and lightning, and the howl of the wind, mimicked the storm that raged inside her, further muffling the sounds that surrounded her as she sank further into the nothingness that the black void of grief provided.
She was drowning. She felt like her head was being held underwater and she couldn’t fight her way back to find air. The longer she stayed there, the more she didn’twantto fight. The more she wanted to succumb to the numbness.
It was Daemon who broke through to her.
Daemon, who sat on the floor next to her and laced his fingers with hers–fingers that now looked like they had been dipped to her first knuckle in a shimmering emerald green–and whispered, “I’m right here, my star. I’ve got you.”
With those few words, the pressure that held her beneath the surface and pulled her into the endless void, released enough that she was able to suck air down into her lungs.
And with that breath, the storm that raged around them slowed.
The wind died down, the rain slowed to a shower, and the thunder and lightning calmed into a distant rumble.
“Well, well, well. That sure was entertaining.” A honeyed voice pierced through the noise of the ballroom, rendering it into an eerie silence, and filled her with a fiery rage.
“Who said that?” Xander asked. His voice was authoritative, but this close, she could hear the undercurrent of pain. Could feel the anguish that radiated out of him, because it was one and the same with hers.
Movement from across the room caught her eye, and she turned to the wall of broken glass that looked out over the garden.
There, standing in one of the shattered doorways, was a woman she’d never seen before.
She was incredibly underdressed to have been a guest at the celebration. Dressed in black leather pants and thigh high boots, a ruby-red corset over a white tunic, and a hooded blood-red cape that obscured her features and fell to her knees.
Even with the hood, Auraelia could see the feline grin that spread across the woman’s face.
“I did.” Her tone was matter-of-fact and it was like a red-hot poker had been shoved into Auraelia’s stomach.
The mystery woman pushed off of the wall and removed her hood.
She had long moonlight white hair that was pulled into a braided ponytail at the top of her head and fell to her shoulders. Her cheekbones were razor sharp, and she had full, blood-red lips.
But it was her eyes that caught Aurelia's attention, as they were eerily similar to her own.
Auraelia narrowed her gaze at the woman, and finally found her voice. “Who are you?”
“I’m Lady Davina of the Court of Garnet, and I’m here to take your throne, Princess.”
Shock rolled through the room, as people began muttering to themselves and to their neighbors.
“I’m sorry,what?” Auraelia gently laid her mother’s body on the ground and stood. She was exhausted and her stomach roiled as a wave of nausea slammed into her, but she wasn’t about to let this stranger see that. Wasn’t about togiveher anything. Taking a step forward to block her mother’s prone body, Auraelia straightened her spine; her magic once again rising to the surface.
Davina laughed, then cocked her head to the side. “Was I not clear,cousin? I’m here to take your throne.” Every word in her latter statement was harshly enunciated to drive the point across.
“Cousin? We’re not–”
“I see your mother kept some secrets from you, Princess. Here, allow me to fill you in.” Cockiness bled into her tone, and she spoke with an air of superiority.
When Auraelia failed to respond, Davina continued, her feline grin spreading further across her face.
“Years ago, before you or I were even a blip in this world, our grandfather decided that his wife was not enough for him and took a mistress. When both women fell pregnant, it became a race to see who would provide the female heir to the line.
“Your mother–” Davina lackadaisically waved her hand in the direction of the fallen queen, “Was born mere seconds before mine, so she was given the title of heir. And since that self-righteous male had secured his precious lineage, he cast my grandmother aside and sent her, and his newborn babe, to live in Garnet. Where my grandmother then married the lord of the court.”
A hush fell over the room as Davina spun her tale.
