The Light Unleashed Read online

  “Is something wrong?” Geran asks.

  “No. I just wanted to give you something.” I may not be able to say the words yet, but I do care for the man. I step forward and give him a hug.

  His breath catches, causing his voice to crack, “Until tomorrow then.”

  I force myself to say the traditional response, “If it pleases Ruahk.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  The Ice Melts

  “You mean Kyran won’t automatically become King when we’re married?” I survey the faces of my advisors seated all around the library table.

  Naill, the grey-haired, grizzled leader of the Commoners, shakes his head. “His official position would be that of royal consort. Most monarchs provide a provisional title such as ‘princess,’ or ‘prince,’ in this case.”

  I use my finger to draw imaginary boxes on the woodgrain. Doodling has always helped me focus my thoughts. “If I don’t make him king, what is Kyran’s role?”

  “Advisor,” Naill chimes. “Counselor. It is assumed he would help you in your rule, but he would have no authority to act on his own without your approval.”

  Rafer, another member of the Commoner Counsel, rests his elbows on the table and leans in toward me. His brown hair looks red in the room’s golden torchlight. His bushy beard fills his face out, rounding it into a gentler countenance than Naill’s. “We could draw up a list of what powers and responsibilities you want to grant, or deny, him.”

  My grandmother nods. “But first, we need to know what title you will grant him.”

  Although I’d like to turn the reign of Ayden over to Kyran completely, I know this isn’t what I should do. “I’m thinking, for the moment, I should probably allow him to be a prince, but not king.”

  I scan the faces around the table to see their reactions. The Elders seem pleased. The Commoners, neutral.

  Based on my decision, they begin to hammer out various responsibilities they feel Kyran would be capable of performing as my husband. I’m grateful my father isn’t here. He loathes Kyran because of his Mystic blood. If Geran had his way, Kyran’s sole job would be to rot in the dungeon.

  “Your Majesty?”

  Everyone around the table is looking at me expectantly. “I’m sorry, what did you ask?”

  Maris repeats her question. “Do you agree to the list of Kyran’s rights and responsibilities we have discussed so far?”

  My mother, who has been a silent observer throughout the morning, must sense my confusion. “May I make a suggestion?” She stands after my nod of approval. “Why don’t the advisors here draw up the new amendments this afternoon? After they review it with the rest of the Assembly tomorrow, they can present their recommendations to the queen.”

  The advisors agree and I feel the tension in my shoulders ease away as they discuss something besides my impending wedding. My muscles soon tighten again when they begin passing parchments for me to sign. As they’re written in Latin, a language I’m familiar with, but not proficient in Simon, my secretary, gives me a summary of each as he places it before me for my signature. There are troops to be paid from the royal treasury, armories to be hired for the making of weapons, landowners that need to be promoted to lords so they will fight against the Mystics. The business of running a kingdom and preparing for war takes up the rest of the morning and much of the afternoon.

  Hours later, Simon takes away the last sheet. I flex my fingers, trying to get some freedom of movement back into them after holding the stylus. After a little more discussion, we break to get ready for dinner. I make my way to the door, hoping to escape before anyone asks me any-thing else.

  “Alystrine? I need to speak with you.”

  My shoulders tense again at my mother’s voice. I let out a sigh before turning to her. “What about?”

  She arches an eyebrow at me. Conflict rages behind her eyes. If we were back in our condo in Connecticut, she would scold me for my attitude. But here, I’m queen. That trumps her mom card. She licks her lips. “Do I need an official reason to talk to my daughter?”

  I bite back my exhaustion and attitude. “Of course not.”

  “Thank you.” She steps to my side and slips her arm around mine. “Let’s go to the small sitting room.”

  We make our way around the corner to one of my favorite spots in the castle. It’s cozy, with a fireplace on the left wall and a large, shuttered window opposite the door. Two armchairs, a wooden bench and a desk fill the rest of the space. I don’t know what the room was originally used for, but it’s seldom occupied now, except by me. The servants have learned to keep the fire burning as I often find my way here before attending meetings or instead of eating dinner. I curl up in the cushioned windowsill as I’ve done so many times before.

  “You seem distracted today.”

  I lift up my head. “Sorry. There’s a lot to think about and it’s all stuff I’d rather not deal with right now.”

  She shifts one of the chairs so it faces me, then sits. “I know, darling. I never expected you to have to marry so soon after you returned to Ayden.”

  “It’s a little freaky.”

  “You know, you don’t have to do anything, even after you’re married.”

  “What?”

  Kennis speaks in the matter-of-fact tone she used to reserve for her nursing duties back in the Other World. “It’s your prerogative entirely. As the queen, you don’t have to have sex with your husband until you’re ready.”

  “Really? Because I get the idea Geran and the rest of the Assembly want me to produce an heir as soon as possible.” I can’t shake the image of them all waiting outside my bedroom on the wedding night with their ears pressed to the door.

  “It would be different if you were marrying a king, but in this matter, your authority as Queen outranks his as your husband. He will have only the power you give him.”

  “That’s a relief.” Although having seen Kyran’s prowess with women, I doubt he’s the kind to take “no” for an answer.

  She makes her way over to the fireplace, holding her hands toward the flames. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

  The fact that she’s not looking at me means this isn’t good news. “What?”

  She stares into the fire. “Quinn has returned.”

  I close my eyes at the mention of his name.

  “He’s helping Geran bring the other Assembly members through the passages.”

  The silence between us is interrupted only by the crackling flames. I finally look over at her. Her normally pale skin is ghost white. Tears glisten in her eyes.

  “Mom?” I sit up. “What is it?”

  Her back straightens and she sniffs sharply before turning toward me. “He did as you asked.” After hours of talk about betrothals and wars, my brain struggles to catch up with her. “Quinn brought Josh’s body back home. To Connecticut. ”

  There it is again. The sharp knife of grief in my chest. I curl back into the window seat and stare at the stone wall in front of me.

  She inhales deeply. “He risked his life to do this for you.”

  The knife twists hard and fast. Turning grief into anger. “If he had done as I asked in the first place, Josh would still be alive.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “Alystrine, please. Let him explain what—”

  I jump off the window seat and face her. “I don’t trust him anymore. I don’t think you should, either.”

  Her chin trembles as she tries to hold in her pain. “Please.”

  I understand her desperation. I do. As queen, I have to give my permission for any marriage within the royal family and I’d promised my mother she could marry Quinn. But that changed the night he disobeyed me and caused the death of my best friend. My throat is tight, “I can’t forgive him. I can’t.”

  My mother’s choking sobs follow me as I flee into the hallway. Because of the blizzard, I can’t escape to the hedges or the stables for solitude. Instead, I have
to imprison myself in my rooms, ordering the guards that I am not to be disturbed.

  I rise before dawn the following morning, having spent the night staring up at the canopy above my bed. Pulling aside the tapestry, I unlatch the wooden shutters that cover the window. The snow has stopped, leaving behind a pristine carpet of white. The pink and gray streaks across the horizon don’t stand much chance against the mountain of black clouds sweeping in from the south. More snow will fall today. Probably within the hour.

  Tamra comes within moments of my ringing for her. Her blonde hair is still in a braid, but random fly-aways circle her head like a halo. Her eyelids are heavy with sleep. “Yes, Your Majesty?”

  “Sorry to wake you so early, but I want to go to the garden.”

  I see no hint of the frustration I’d have felt if the shoe were on the other foot. Once we are both dressed, we make our way through the halls to the door leading outside. Although about four inches of snow has fallen, the crunchy top gives way to the powder beneath.

  Tamra walks with me to the opening of the hedge maze but does not enter. “I will be here if you need me, Your Majesty.”

  “You can return to the castle, if you get too cold.” I say the same every day, but she is always waiting here when I’m ready to leave.

  The silence of the snow is deafening, but it cannot quiet the roaring in my head. The constant what ifs that steal my sleep. As I near the center of the maze, I notice tracks in the snow, coming from the opposite direction. The hairs on the back of my neck bristle. I come here to be alone. I hurry to turn the last corner. The snow has been brushed off Josh’s bench and a robed figure sits on it.

  The intruder stands. “Your Majesty.”

  “What are you doing here?”

  The figure draws back its hood to reveal the handsome face of a young man with dark hair and eyes.

  “Josh?” My knees turn to jelly. I drop unceremoniously to the ground.

  He kneels at my side. “My queen!”

  Now that he’s close, I see it’s not the ghost of my best friend, but Noam, the Elder who helped Josh try to escape.

  He scoops me up in his arms. “Should I fetch Lady Kennis?”

  “No.” The authority in my voice keeps him from leaving the clearing, but he holds me awkwardly, unsure of what I want him to do. “Just bring me to the bench.”

  Noam obeys. Once he places me on the hard marble seat, he steps back. “I’m sorry I startled you. I was told you visited here every morning and hoped we might talk.”

  “No one told me you arrived.” My breath is returning to normal, although tiny clouds float on the wind whenever I exhale. “When did you get here?”

  “Last night. I’d hoped to see you, but Lady Kennis said you were not receiving visitors.”

  I study him. He’s my height, but older by several years. I try to put him at ease. “Is your mother well?”

  “Yes. Very well.”

  He rocks on his feet. I’m not used to Noam’s self-consciousness, he’s normally calm and self-assured. “Did she come with you?”

  His Adam’s apple moves as he swallows hard. “I travelled with Quinn.”

  I close my eyes at the sound of that name, willing myself to stay calm.

  Noam’s voice softens. “I would very much like to tell you what happened that night. If you would allow me.”

  I stare at the blood stain at my fingertips. Trace the dark black spot, larger than my hand. Follow the streaks out to the spatters along the edge of the marble. “Quinn was supposed to take the Chrysaline and use it to transport Josh back home. But he didn’t.” My voice breaks. “He didn’t, and Braedon ripped his heart out because of that stupid betrothal contract.”

  Pity and sorrow swirl behind Noam’s brown eyes. “He couldn’t use the Chrysaline that night without alerting the Portals in Braedon’s power that he had it. They would have targeted exactly where Quinn was when he returned and killed him to get the Chrysaline back.”

  My anger is a roaring beast inside me. “I don’t care about the Chrysaline! I cared about Josh!”

  “Don’t you understand? To the Elders, the Chrysaline is their connection to Ruahk. To his power.” He lifts his palms in a gesture of surrender. “If the Mystics recovered the Chrysaline, they would have used it against us in the coming war. There is no telling what kind of power it could wield if placed in the hands of a Black Guard, or worse, a full demon.”

  My rage weakens, but I struggle to hold on to it. “Quinn should have stayed with Josh until he was safe. He shouldn’t have left him alone.”

  “Josh wasn’t alone. He rode with my mother toward the Elder Lands. To Quinn. If you want to blame anyone for his death, blame me.”

  The breath is knocked out of me. “What did you do?”

  “The Black Guards were on my heels after I escaped from the palace. In my panic, I cried out to my mother. I do not have the gift of Mind Speak, except with her. She reared in her horse to try and hear my words. Josh insisted on knowing what I said.” Noam steps closer. “When she told him the Black Guards pursued me, thinking I was him, he turned his horse around and sped back toward the city.”

  I don’t want to believe him. I don’t want to be angry at Josh as well.

  “He came out of the Fey just as I came out of the river with the Guards behind me. He cried out, ‘I’m the one you want. I’m the prisoner.’” Noam’s voice catches. Tears glisten in his eyes. “I tried to stop him, but he smacked my horse and spurred her into the forest. By the time I quieted my mount and turned back, Josh and the Guards were already gone.”

  My mind tries to comprehend his story.

  “I know he did it to save my life. It is hard for me to fathom why he would make such a sacrifice for one he hardly knew.”

  “He was always doing that. Sticking up for people being bullied. Buying lunch for kids who didn’t have anything to eat.” I struggle to keep myself from crying at the memories trying to invade my mind.

  “The other reason will be harder for you to accept, but I believe it was his main purpose.”

  Despite the brutal cold, I grab onto the edge of the marble bench with my bare hands, steeling myself.

  Noam’s eyes lock on mine. “He didn’t want to go back to the Other World and live without you. He loved you. He told me so. I think he hoped, if he returned to the palace, he might be able to help you.”

  “So it’s my fault?” I stand as my grief takes on a life of its own. I am angry and sad and horrified all at once. I push Noam. He stumbles backward. “It’s my fault he was slaughtered like an animal?”

  Noam grabs my arm before I can run from him. “No one is to blame, Your Majesty. Not you, not me, not Josh.” He pauses for a moment. “And not Quinn.”

  “No! Someone has to be to blame.” I tear myself from his grip. “Someone has to be.”

  “Why?”

  “Because if I can’t be angry with someone—” My hand clutches at my chest as if somehow it will make my lungs take a full breath. I feel as though I’m falling down an endless, black tunnel. “If I’m not angry, if I don’t feel anything . . . I might as well have died with him.”

  “Be angry at the evil that sought his death. At Lord Braedon.”

  I slam my fist against him. He doesn’t flinch. I hit him again. “Why did this god of yours let it happen? Why?”

  Noam pins my hands against him. “Remember Ginessa’s Glade. Could the god who created that world be a god who kills innocent boys?” I want to pull my hands away, but Noam’s grip is firm. “Tell me, Your Majesty. Could that god do something this terrible?”

  I can’t find my voice, but I shake my head.

  Tears flow down Noam’s cheeks. “That god’s love is immeasurable. We must hold on to that.”

  “But why? Why did he let it happen?”

  “I do not know.” His voice drops to a whisper. “One day we will know the reason. For now we must hold on to the fact that Ruahk is good and kind and merciful. That his ways are greater than ours.
”

  My anger is gone, leaving behind a chasm of pain. I give into my grief for the first time since the night of Josh’s death. A wail escapes my throat. I fall against Noam’s chest and he clutches me to himself, keeping me upright. For a minute I lose myself in despair. The rough wool of his cloak scratches my face as I sob. He mutters comforting words.

  Footsteps crunch in the snow as someone rushes into the clearing. I bury my face deeper against Noam.

  “My lady?” Tamra calls to me. “I heard you cry out.” Her voice is wary as she sizes up the situation. “Do you need help?”

  “Leave us,” Noam orders.

  “I do not serve you.”

  “It’s all right.” I struggle to get myself under control and wipe the tears from my cheeks. “You can go, Tamra.”

  She eyes Noam with suspicion. “Are you sure?”

  “Go.”

  Her lips form a hard line. “I will wait in the hedge.”

  I press the back of my hand to my nose, hoping to stop the flow. “Go back inside where it’s warm. To my rooms. Noam will stay with me.”

  She’s not happy, but she obeys. I sniffle hard and dry my face with my cloak. My head pounds from crying. “I miss Josh.”

  “I know.” Above Noam, dark gray clouds speed across the sky, obscuring the red wisps of dawn.

  “I’ve never lost someone so close to me.”

  Noam remains quiet.

  “Have you?”

  His brown eyes seem to focus on something behind me, but I know he’s watching a memory.

  I read the pain it causes him. “How long does it take . . . to forget?”

  “You never forget . . . you just . . . move on.” He sighs. “One day you’ll find yourself laughing again. You’ll stop for a moment and wonder whether it insults the memory of the person you loved. Then you realize, no, to stop living would be the greater insult.”

  We remain in the clearing, lost in our thoughts, as the wind picks up. It’s comforting, this silence of grief. Eventually, a few fat snowflakes drift down. I tip my head back to watch their crazy dance. In honor of Josh, and how he used to love to play in the snow, I open my mouth wide to catch a flake on my tongue.