Dark Throne, The (33 page)

She couldn’t have lost her
. She couldn’t. She’d only just found her and Setta had
only just promised to accept her for what she was. This bastard
couldn’t have taken her away. She pressed her forehead to Setta’s,
her body recognizing the rapid loss of heat from her mother’s. Sobs
heaved through her chest, as she shook her head in denial, the move
had Setta’s limp head following the same rhythm. As she cried, as
tears tracked down the path from the corner of her eyes, Heather
didn’t realize that they pooled in the slight cove of Setta’s eye
sockets. Heather didn’t even really know she was crying.

Despair was ravaging her system with a ferocity she’d never
before imagined
. This was like
losing Aunty May again. Another connection gone. Another connection
that would leave Heather’s life wanting.

She didn’t care, when she was dragged
upright
. She couldn’t stand,
her knees were too weak and she fell to the floor again. The sharp
bones collided with the floor and she cried out as the pain
ricocheted through her form. Her skirt tore and the sound ripped
through the room as a long rent splintered its way through the
fabric, urging the stones sewn into the weave to sprinkle the
floor, making a tinkling sound as they clashed.

Calder grabbed her arms, but they were like limp spaghetti
and they fell to her sides again
. Heather didn’t really notice. She was focused on her
mother, her mouth forming and mewling her mind’s rejection of
Setta’s death.

It couldn’t be
. It
just couldn’t be.

She longed to deny it, but the longer she sat there,
slouched on the floor, as limp as a rag, the colder, stiller and
more
dead
Setta appeared.

When she was lifted into strong arms and hoisted over a
shoulder, Heather ignored the resulting pain as her stomach
collided with the bony joint
.
She let herself be taken, tilting her head to see her mother’s
corpse until the very last moment.

She didn’t even notice when they passed through the
portal
. Only when the one in
the chamber in Jender disappeared and her eyes were no longer
trained on Setta, did she stir.

“
No
.” she cried, her
tears starting anew. “No.” She shook her head, physically denying
and rejecting what had just happened.

Regret filled her
,
plundered her mind until all she could see were the ways in which
she’d let Setta down. Couldn’t she have tried harder? Been kinder?
Tried to be friendlier?

Instead, she’d been so obsessed with Fade, that her mother,
who had lost and only just found her, couldn’t reconcile herself to
what had occurred
. Setta had
been floundering in the dark and Heather had been the only one with
the light to guide her. When she’d focused her entire attention on
her mate, Setta had felt adrift. It didn’t matter that it was only
natural for mates to seek each other out, guilt tore through
Heather, as she came to terms with the fact she was the fault
behind Setta’s churlishness.

The minute Setta had exhaled her last
breath
, understanding had
shimmered through Heather’s brain. But that was too late to make
any changes to her life. Too goddamn late.

The sobs started again, but this time, they weren’t
pitiful, they were raging
.
They tore through her body with a ferocity that unnerved the man
carrying her. Calder quickly deposited her on the bed and left her
there in a shapeless lump.

Once her body connected with the mattress, Heather shot up
and glared through swollen eyes at her mother’s
murderer
. Adrenaline enabling
her to do that as the desire to kill him pummeled through her
blood. She wanted his death on her hands just as her mother’s was
on his. Wanted to torture him, to make him suffer as she was now.
But mostly she wanted to know
why
. Why he’d had to
kill her mother? Heather had ascertained that he was a pretender to
the Haden throne, but why stoop to murder? Why kill someone who had
no connection to Haden? Save the weak connection to herself. Mearth
did not know they were mates. The people believed a union between
the kingdoms was the reason for their wedding. But that union had
not been completed, so why murder Setta?

Her throat throbbed with the ferocious sobs tearing through
it, so much so, she couldn’t form a word
. She felt weak, so weak by the strength of her misery
that her back caved in, no longer supporting her. The adrenaline
disappeared and with its loss, she felt even weaker. Exhaustion
rippled through her body as she fell back against the mattress and
closed her eyes. But the sight of her mother’s dead form plagued
her.

Would it ever leave her?

She didn’t think so
.
It would forever haunt her, forever be glued to the backs of her
eyelids.

More tears formed at the thought
.

Chapter
Fifteen

Mother of Mearth, the woman could cry
.

Her sobs were louder than anything he’d ever heard and
considering the things he’d seen in his life, the rituals and
sacrifices he’d monitored, that was saying
something
. She mourned. Every
tear, every wail was loaded with her grief to the point where he
felt disturbed.

It had all come to pass so easily that either his
organizational skills were superb or the Fates were on his
side
. He preferred to think
that it was a mixture of both, for his ego wouldn’t allow him to
deny the former, nor would it allow him to deny that the Fates had
taken to looking kindly upon his intentions.

That could only bode well, could it
not?

He had an Elder standing by, one within his own pocket,
just waiting to wed the pair of them
. The only problem seemed to be getting the bride to utter
the binding words.

The ceremony could not be a sham
. It had to be binding and real. Once the bride and
groom uttered the words of the ancient vows, for those few moments,
they were entwined with Mother Mearth. She, in turn, bound them
together mentally, physically and emotionally.

Calder had intended to drug Heather of
Jender
. In a stuporous state,
he was sure the words would have come easily but at the moment, the
girl wasn’t even capable of speaking. Her words were slaughtered by
the sobs choking through her.

Mother Mearth, if he’d realized the killing touch would
have had this effect on his intended, he would have left the
Jenderian Queen alone
.

Naturally, they were kin those two
. But still, the devotion that this one was displaying
took time to grow. Surely? Her reappearance had shot through the
kingdoms, the chit had only been returned to Jender a short while
ago. How could she weep such misery, when she hardly knew the woman
who was her mother?

He’d never understand women, Calder was quite certain of
that
. He was capable of much,
but that talent was quite beyond him.

His eyes wandered around the room as he tried to
contemplate his next step
. The
only thing he accomplished was to feel irritated. On the floor, the
mewling Elfen he’d used to transport him through time and space
were still writhing on the floor and over on the bed, Heather of
Jender, his future bride, was still wailing like a babe in
arms.

Deciding to take a seat, he sat back and pondered the
situation
. Rather than drag
Fade here and try and kill him, Calder had gone for the, he wasn’t
ashamed to admit, cowardly option. By stealing the man’s wife and
taking her for his own, Calder would have ties with the Jenderian
Palace. The drug he’d intended to use upon Heather would keep her
quiet for the remainder of her life as to how he’d smuggled her
away, and would hide the fact he’d murdered the Queen. Drugged,
she’d be a biddable wife and he’d retain all the power. Once her
father was dead, be that with natural causes or if Henrik was
pushed along by Calder himself, then as Heather’s husband, he would
take the throne and reign supreme.

He would have robbed Fade of his intended and of his future
as King of two kingdoms
.

Calder would have preferred the
Dark Throne. It was his right by birth, but he would
settle for being King of Jender.

As such, his plan had grown from there on
out
. His target had changed to
Heather of Jender and he’d set the date for the morning of the
nuptials.

Calder took great pleasure in knowing that Fade would
believe Heather had suffered with nerves and run from the hideous
throwback, as he so deserved
.
No beast such as was Fade deserved such a handsome and beautiful
wife. She shared her mother’s beauty that was the truth. Calder, on
the other hand, did deserve such a goddess on his arm and he’d take
her, all the while glorifying in the fact he’d stolen her from his
nephew.

A
smile graced his lips at the very idea
. Indeed, she would be a pleasure to tup but even more so
knowing that he had a woman who had accepted Fade, beastly wings
and all. For Calder knew that meant love was between the
pair.

His smile widened into a grin
. He grinned so wide that his face ached with it. The idea
of taking the love of Fade’s life, his only chance of acceptance
pleased him so deeply that there were no words to describe
it.

He sighed, content and came to a
decision
. Fade would have no
idea of his bride’s location. He’d be searching the Jenderian
palace first and foremost, before he split out and sent search
parties to look into the local village that was close to the
palace. Then, when they failed to find her, they’d spread out. Fade
would not think that she was here, in the palace that according to
Haden law, as foolish as it was, was rightfully his.

The irony was so delicious, he smiled
again
.

He would endure Heather’s grief and let it pass and when
her voice managed to wade through her tears, then, they’d
wed
. Time was, after all, on
his side.

Fade refused to doubt Heather
. He refused to even consider that she’d abandoned or left
him. He rejected it, because he knew it to be a falsehood. It had
to be. His only concern stemmed from the fact that for Heather to
be late, for her to not have shown up at the chapel and for her
mother to also be absent… well, Fade put two and two together and
came up with the only variable- in some part of the castle, his
bride and his mother-in-law had come to blows.

The palace chapel was but a few minutes’ walk away from the
chambers they’d been assigned, Fade made it in less than one as he
ran to the room which was beside his own and blasted through the
door
. He didn’t bother to
knock, simply rushed in and saw Setta lying on the
floor.

Her body was limp and lax
. Fade had seen too much death on the battlefields not to
know when someone had passed over.

His heart stopped in his chest as he scanned the room,
searching for his mate
. He was
both relieved and terrified, when he didn’t see her. It disturbed
him that he hadn’t sensed any danger from her quarter. Of late,
whenever she’d been as much as depressed or disturbed or even
elated by something, he’d known it.

Where was she?

She had to be unconscious
. Otherwise she would have contacted him, pressed
the
sleckil
to give him a clue as to her
location.

He could pity Setta’s loss of life, feel sorrow for Henrik
who had loved his wife, but all of his concentration was on
Heather
. And until he knew
where she was, he was lost.

Striding over to the security panel, which rested beside
the bell pull, Fade sounded the alarm
. A piercing noise rent through the entire palace. He
sounded it twice more, the inference being that one of the royal
family was in danger. Within seconds, armed, chain-mailed guards
barricaded the room. A captain strode in, after maneuvering through
the doorway with a kirk in one hand and a broadsword in the other,
the former raised to shoulder height and the other held at his
hips.

Cancelling the alarm, Fade winced with relief as the noise
disappeared and watched as the captain eventually spotted the Queen
and sank to his knees
.

“
Get up, man
.” Fade
shouted. “The Princess Royal has disappeared. The Queen is dead,
her daughter still lives. I would sense the loss if anything had
happened to her.”

Before the captain could comment, Henrik suddenly burst
in
. His eyes darted about, as
much as Fade’s had. When he spotted his wife’s body on the floor, a
low keening sound escaped his throat. It turned into a roar as he
rushed over to Setta’s limp form and dragged her
upright.

The armed men, Fade and the captain merely watched on,
completely unsure of how to approach the man who was King, as he
rocked his wife back and forth, back and forth like a ragged
doll
.