Page 56 of House of Gilded Nightmares

Dread sweeps through my veins. It’s clear the king thinks of me as nothing more than a broodmare, and his anger at my union with Zyren will ensure his cruelty as well. Just when I thought my fate couldn’t be any more bleak, I am proven wrong yet again. So very wrong.

The king raises a hand and beckons for someone behind us. “So, yes, Sarielle, I am ready to save Valaron. I am so happy that you and I are in this together.”

Xinius and a half dozen palace guards approach. I wish I could go numb again, wish I could drown out what happens next, but I am acutely aware of every sense, every detail, as we turn and march for the courtyard. The ring of my footsteps on the stone tiles beneath my feet. The crush of the king’s fingers around mine as he pulls me forward. The growing tide of voices as we approach the doors to the palace. The bright beams of morning sun in my eyes as we step outside to the roaring cheer of the crowd. The sickly-sweet scent of the flower urns as we step into place across from one another on the palace steps.

Zyren stands behind me, so close I feel the heat of his body and the stir of his shadows. Several of the robed sorcerers fan out behind him and behind the king, who is still gripping my hands hard enough to bruise them. Xinius stands on the step above us, to my right. The crowd falls into a hushed silence just a dozen feet away, beyond the line of palace guards keeping them back. From somewhere in the mountain peaks above, I hear the cry of a hawk.

“Today, we renew sacred vows,” Xinius begins, his voice ringing across the courtyard. “Today, we perform a ritual that was first performed many, many centuries ago by our ancestors to protect Valaron and its people.”

Cracks form in the ice around my heart, horror pulsing through my veins. This is wrong, this is wrong, this is wrong…

“The Obsidian Moon hangs above us, but before it reaches its zenith, we will once again ensure peace and safety for this realm and those beyond.” Xinius’s eyes move to the king, and then to me. “Hold out your palms.”

The king’s eyes move beyond me, past my shoulder, and I know he’s staring at Zyren. He extends his hand forward, and slowly, I do the same. From behind each of us, one of the robed sorcerers steps up with a long silver dagger. I barely flinch as the blade slices across my skin, a crimson line welling up along my palm. My inner turmoil is too chaotic for external pain to affect me. Xinius opens a huge black book and begins to read from it in a strange tongue, his words and his magic spiraling up into the sky.

The two sorcerers step to the side and the king reaches out, fast as lightning, and grabs my hand, pressing our palms together so our blood mixes. I feel a faint pulse of magic move between us. Xinius continues to speak, though I can’t understand a word he’s saying. Overhead, a brisk wind springs down from the mountains, whipping his red hair back from his face. Zyren’s shadows roil behind me, his inner nightmare dangerously close to the surface.

And then Xinius speaks in a language I can understand, looking first to the king. “Do you, Jonavus of House Lyonian, vow to wed Sarielle of House Otreyas, and together serve Valaron for the rest of your days?”

The king’s eye burns into mine. “From this day forth.”

Xinius turns to me. “And do you, Sarielle of House Otreyas, vow to wed Jonavus of House Lyonian, and together serve Valaron for the rest of your days?”

I open my mouth, but my heart is racing too fast, my blood sparking too quickly in my veins, my throat too tight to utter the words. The sun cuts into my eyes, and the Obsidian Moon hangs overhead, seeming to grow darker with each passing moment. But I cannot say the words. My silence condemns not only Valaron but Aureon as well, and yet my voice refuses to come.

“Sarielle?” Xinius says.

It’s at that moment three huge arrows bury themselves in the king’s chest and Zyren tackles me to the ground.

The world flips upside down. Screams erupt from the crowd as the king falls dead twelve inches away. From my splintered vantage point on the steps, I see through the throng of stampeding bodies several people wearing black tunics with a red emblem. And then, striding through the crowd, shoving people out of the way with blasts of magic, is Avonia.

Zyren climbs to his feet and towers over me, sword in his hand. He rotates it once and then charges her with a roar, shadows spinning out around him. They crash together in a storm of blade and magic. Their power rages for several long moments, so thick I can’t see either of them.

I, however, am not invisible. From either side, Septarus warriors run toward me, seeing me still alive on the steps next to the king’s body. I try not to look at the pool of blood flowing out of him onto the marble steps as I push myself to my feet and stumble toward the palace. Xinius and his sorcerers are casting spells at their attackers, and the palace guards are fighting with blade and arrow.

And then I see, flying over the city at full speed, a swarm of winged nightmares aiming straight for us.

There are hundreds of them. Everything from thin wraith-like wisps to huge horned beasts. Their howls and screams fill the air, and the shadow of them almost blots out the sun. The crowd of Valaronians erupts into even more panic, some rushing for the shelter of the palace, others trying to get out the gates of the courtyard before the monsters arrive.

“Zyren!” I scream.

My magic surges out of me, and in my fear and panic, it is not golden light but pure, deep shadow. Wings and fangs and fiery breath, it rises from inside and towers over me. The nightmare within is not afraid. It is furious. It steps forward with golden eyes that glow like burning amber, and with a blast of flame, it devours my attackers, everyone within a ten-foot radius, turning them to ash and dust.

The power within me claims not only my enemies, but my energy, too. I fall to my knees as my vision goes spotty and my bones turn to water. Those closest to me are vanquished, but the black wall of nightmares has nearly reached the courtyard, and I’m too weak to even call Zyren’s name again. My eyes flutter closed…

And then Zyren is there. He drags me to my feet and throws me over one shoulder, taking the steps of the palace two at a time. Arrows whistle past us, and blasts of magic, too. Shadowed wings erupt from his back and a wall of ravens fly out behind us. I hear a howl of rage as we vanish within the blackness, and I know it’s Avonia.

Instead of taking the stairs, Zyren runs through a door behind them. There’s a set of steps leading down into darkness, a tunnel lined with torches. He descends quickly, and within moments the sounds of battle have fallen behind us. The steps don’t go far. They exit onto a long, straight tunnel that cuts through the mountain. Zyren propels us down it, using his wings to aid his speed, barely skimming over the ground.

When we abruptly exit the tunnel into mottled daylight, I realize we’ve traveled all the way under the mountain in a matter of minutes. We’re in a forest that covers the slopes, leading downhill into a valley beyond. Zyren barely slows as we race through the trees, not until we reach the shores of a distant lake beyond the forest.

Only then does Zyren stop. I’m not the only one who cannot sustain heavy use of magic for long periods of time. No sooner have we stopped than Zyren’s wings fade and he stumbles forward. He has just enough strength to set us both down on a small boulder next to the water. His shadows dissipate and his hands shake from exertion.

We don’t speak for several long moments. I listen to the pounding of my heart and the wind over the water and the sound of Zyren’s breathing.

Finally, I lift my hand and place it over his. “I’m so sorry,” I whisper, my words breaking. Sorry I couldn’t say the words to save Valaron, sorry his brother is dead, sorry for so many things.

Zyren pulls his hand away from mine as if I’ve burned him and looks out across the water.

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