The Dark Queen (The Dark Queens Book 5) (23 page)

He shook his head. “Fable, you should know better than most that magic can take on many forms.”

She snapped her mouth shut, heart beating like thundering hooves in her chest. Was it possible that Snow White had not only been cursed by Brunhilda, but that she was even now still under the witch’s influence? Was it really possible that even in death Brunhilda haunted them?

“I would have noticed. I would have—”

Gathering her flailing wrists in his hands, he squeezed tight. Centering her thoughts back on him. His gaze was steady and sure.

“We sometimes fail to see the truth of things closest to us. The daughter’s hatred has cut you deeply, far deeper than you might even suspect.”

Her nostrils flared. “What do you mean?”

“Fable, it was only the night of George’s death—the night that Snow saw you kill him—that caused your heart to turn dark.”

“No.” She shook her head hard. “No. I was studying the black craft before that night. That’s when—”

“No,” he said again, his voice steady. “No, learning the arcane arts does not make one’s soul dark. It is only the gleeful invocation of it that does it.”

“I killed George and Brunhilda with a killing curse.”

“To defend yourself. Again, you did not call upon the darkness with avarice.”

Her brows dipped as she began to think back to when it first started for her. When she’d begun to employ the black arts with willful deliberation.

Back, back, back her thoughts spun until the very moment of inception. The moment that dark seed sprouted deep in her soul, the moment she decided to step completely into the void and embrace her baser instincts.

The moment she’d looked up at Snow and the girl’s eyes had burned with hate. It had been that precise moment that the small tether of Fable’s humanity had snapped. That had been the moment she’d decided that love was a weakness, a blight, and a disease of the soul. The moment she’d stepped away from the light and into the darkness.

And all of that had happened because she’d lost the love of a little girl she’d cared for as her own.

She shook her head. “I’m a weak, selfish, awful person, aren’t I, Owiot.”

Fable didn’t phrase it as a question because it wasn’t a question. She knew it was fact and she felt an emotion she’d not felt in a long, long time.

Shame.

But rather than fight it as was her instinctive reaction, she allowed herself to feel the full weight of it for the first time in her life and what she saw made her sick.

Her breathing grew harsh. Her thoughts focused on all that she’d done, all she’d been about to do. It was never easy coming to grips with one’s ugliness, and it was doubly so for her because her sins were far greater than most.

“Breathe, darkness. Breathe.” He was there, holding her face in his strong hands and she startled, looking at him as her beacon, her focus.

He nodded. “Good. You’re going to be okay, my beauty. Simply breathe.”

“But...but, I’m a—”

“You were.”

She shook her head, curling her fingers around his wrist. “And now I’m not? In just a matter of days, I’m not, is that what you’re telling me because we both know that’s nonsense. My sins are plenty; I’ve done so much. So much, how can I ever make this right? How can the scales of justice and balance ever be righted?”

“The choice is yours, Fable. Whether to continue on this path or go back to the one you know. The familiar twisted one full of thorns and weeds. Alone and forever battling the weight of your own demons.”

“How do I stop, Owiot? Here, I am a different woman because here no one cares who I am. But back there, in the Enchanted Forest, no would believe I’d turned over a new leaf. It’s impossible.”

“The journey of a thousand miles begins with the first step,” he said gravely. “You are right; some may see you and not believe. But all it takes is one to light a spark of hope. You can make them see you’ve changed, you only have to be patient.”

She bit her bottom lip, wishing she was brave enough to tell him that she didn’t want to do it alone, that she wanted him to be by her side through all of it. That he made her feel safe and not afraid to be vulnerable. But those words were far too heavy to be spoken so soon.

“And Snow? Do you know what I was about to do to her before I was brought here?”

He nodded. “I saw.”

“You did?” She swallowed hard; saddened that he’d seen that side of her. Disgusted by her own actions, disgusted that she’d let her hatred of George destroy all that had been good within her.

“But you didn’t kill her. In fact, you didn’t kill any of them. When you get back to your land—”

“If I get back. You know the last ones in these games can’t leave.”

His lips twitched like he knew a secret she didn’t yet. And the look made her feel warm to the tips of her toes.

“You will get back, Fable. In fact, I wouldn’t doubt if you were the first to leave.”

Her heart thudded almost painfully in her chest. Was he saying what she thought he was saying?

That was impossible, right? True love, the kind that sonnets and poems were written about, it couldn’t possibly happen so quick.

Could it?

“When the time comes, you’ll know exactly what to do about Snow White.”

She wished she could believe him. Wished she had as much faith in herself as he seemed to have in her. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to change. She did. Even before she’d come here, she’d grown weary of the life she’d led, the lonely never-ending cycle of hate and war that had become her existence.

It had been so easy to let it go here. But what would she do when she returned home? How would she act?

Fable wanted to be a better person. And not because of him either, but because she was tired of being who she was never meant to be.

Leaning over, he kissed her gently. But just that simple ghost of a touch was enough to ignite the embers of passion.

“Mm,” she moaned, pressing her breasts tight against his chest. “I like that. Do it again.”

His lips twitched. “You’re changing the subject.”

She shrugged. “Yes, because I’m tired of thinking of all of that. I want to forget, help me to forget, Owiot. Please.”

And he did. This time, when they came together, it wasn’t animalistic or rough, but sweet, gentle, and full of unspoken and heartfelt confessions.

By the time they finally finished, Fable keenly felt the lapse of time and the knowledge that in a little while she was to face her first trial. A trial where she was given the freedom to not only wound but possibly even end her opponent.

The child eater. She shuddered just thinking of the infamous Baba Yaga whose powers, it was said, came from the very devil himself.

“In just a few hours I have to battle,” she whispered, cuddling in tight to his warm body.

Laying with Owiot was a lot like snuggling against a hearth on a blustery winter’s night, he was so warm and wonderful feeling. He kissed the crown of her head.

“I know. And I won’t leave your side, woman. I vow it.”

Fable

––––––––

W
aking up in the morning was exceedingly difficult to do. Today was the start of the “games.” It was also one of the rare times that she wanted to swear at her grandmother for creating something so dastardly.

Stretching her arms high above her head, she became suddenly aware that Owiot watched her.

Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she smiled up at him. “Good morning.”

“Morning,” he said, as he tenderly brushed a curl of hair out of her eyes.

He suddenly frowned.

“What?” she snapped, instantly aware that something was wrong. Touching her face, wondering if she’d finally turned into the vision of the hag she’d seen in Mirror, she shook her head. “What’s wrong?”

“Your eyes, Fable.”

She blinked. “What’s wrong with my eyes?”

Terrified that they were now milky white like a crone’s, or something else equally hideous, she called a looking glass to her.

Instantly a small, pewter colored handheld mirror rested in her palm. Biting her bottom lip, she held the mirror up and then froze.

Gasping.

Because the eyes staring back at her were eyes she’d not seen in ages. They were the very same texture and color as that of her mother’s, Nimue. Aquamarine—like the cool glassy color of the Caribbean’s.

“My eyes,” she whispered in awe as they filled with heat. “My eyes have changed. Why?”

Owiot pushed her hand away, forcing her to look him in the eyes. “I can only assume it’s because you are changed, Fable.”

“Is this permanent?” She touched the corner of her eyes.

For so long her eyes had been bronze-gold that to see them so different now was beyond startling. Her heart raced in her chest at the sight of a woman she did not recognize. Oddly enough, though it scared her to see the blue, it also warmed her down to her very soul. Because it truly was like gazing upon the pretty, aquamarine eyes of her mother. Seeing them now fill with tears, it was easy enough to imagine that it was mother looking back at her.

“What is this magic?” she asked with awe in her voice as she lightly danced her fingertips beneath her eyes and shook her head in wonder.

“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “Only you can determine that. What it does mean is this. You are changing, Fable. You’ve begun to solve the riddle Button gave you—”

“...Remember who you are,” they both said at once.

Feeling sexually sated, and stupidly happy, she laughed. From deep in her belly, the type of laugh that was full of wonder and light and eased the anxiety she’d felt upon awakening.

“My gods, you’re beautiful when you do that,” he said, and she grinned.

“Then maybe I should do it more often.”

He nodded. “Maybe you should.”

Fable was just about to suggest that he come lay down beside her, and maybe they could get back to what they’d been doing all through the night when she spied a looming black shape winging in the distance.

She groaned.

Owiot, attuned to her own emotions, turned to glance over his shoulders. “The dragon returns,” he said.

And immediately she sensed the light-hearted mood was gone. The time for war was now, and she was so not ready.

Normally she’d prepare. Have spells ready. Would have an active plan of attack. But she’d been so consumed by her time with Owiot that she’d firmly shoved Baba Yaga to the very back of her mind.

Well, now Baba was in the forefront in a very real way, and she knew she was in big trouble.

Owiot stood. Button drew ever closer.

Holding out his hand to her, he helped her to stand too.

“Get us dressed, Fable,” he said quickly.

And she obeyed without question. Waving a hand first over herself, then him, she willed clothing back upon their bodies. For Owiot, she wove a pair of leggings from supple tanned leather she’d had stored back in her true castle in the Enchanted Forest.

For herself, she’d fashioned a gown built from her own innate ability to draw on shadow and smoke. The dress was a thing of beauty, curling like billowing fog around her long legs, and leaving her arms and chest-line bare for easier mobility.

But it wasn’t simply a fashion statement. If say, grandmother transported them to a land of perpetual sunlight—like what Auntie Fiera’s home world was—then Fable would still be able to tap into the power of shadows and darkness by drawing on her dress.

As far as plans went, there really wasn’t much of one. She was winging it and cringing and praying to the gods that she didn’t do something stupid, like get her and Owiot killed in the process.

Knowing she’d screwed up so royally with her preparations made her anxious and that anxiety made her furious with herself.

“She’s going to try and kill you, Owiot.”

He shook his head. “Don’t worry about me, Fable. I need you to focus on getting out of there alive.”

Nothing more could be said, because that was the moment that Button decided to land. For such a massive creature, he could be exceedingly light on his feet when he wanted to be. The blooms barely stirred in his wake.

He looked far more massive this morning than he had the previous one. Button took his time tucking in his large bat-like wings tight to his body.

“Miss me?” he asked in his sibilant and throaty growl.

She glowered. “Hardly. Is it time already?”

He nodded his regal neck. “Mm. Indeed, it is, fair queen. But I must warn you, Baba has planned most exceedingly well for this meeting. To be honest, I hardly think you stand a chance.”

His laughter caused the ground to shake.

Fable clenched her fists tight. Owiot hugged her to him.

“Relax, Fable.”

“How? How can I? I was a fool, Owiot, a stupid, silly fool who lost her head and thought only with her heart instead of focusing on—”

He kissed her. Stealing the very breath from her lungs. When he was done moving those sexy lips over hers, she could hardly think straight anymore.

“Uh,” she exhaled heavily, swaying into his body, “what was I—”

He grinned, showing off his straight white teeth. She framed his face lovingly, the time for pretending how she really felt for this man was long overdue.

Rubbing the tips of their noses together, she breathed against his mouth. “I’ll protect you, Owiot. With my life.”

“It’s not me I worry about, my darkness.”

~*~

O
n the ride over Fable had asked Button to make sure Baba felt his landing. The dragon had laughed, but promised to do his best.

And when they’d finally sailed through dimensions, and she spied a world full of sandy islands, and waters overflowing with predators, she’d grinned. Good as his word, when Button landed, he sprayed the Magic Queen with large blasts of sand.

It wasn’t easy sliding off of a dragon’s back, even one that was willing; Button was easily two stories off the ground. But he crouched low and with the help of Owiot’s waiting hand, she managed to slide off without looking too awkward about it.

She turned, and that’s when she finally spied the infamous child eater herself.

Baba was dressed in boots, a thong, and a ridiculous looking vest that covered an exceedingly lumpy chest.