“If you would just let me—”
With a yell, I rush headlong at the nearest cluster of changelings, their eyes widening in terror. Unfurling my wings, I leap into the air and flap them hard, the burn of my muscles a welcome reprieve from the headache I get each time I reanimate a corpse.
The clouds flow around me as I soar. I relish the damp chill, and my wings expand, gripping the air and pushing me up and up until the sun beats down on my face and the valley is nowhere in sight. The voice goes silent. Good.
“You’re a fast learner.” Shathinor follows me up, his black wings beating steadily. “That first day, I had my doubts.”
“I’ve never had wings before.” I shout over the wind. “What did you expect?”
“You’re my child.” He shoots in front of me. “I expect excellence.”
“Does Cenet give you that?” I tuck my wings in tight and dive through the clouds, heading straight to the ground like an arrow from a bow. The roar of the wind is my companion as the valley reappears, the soldiers below running drills and sparring with each other.
Before I get too low, I spread my wings and let myself drift lazily, like a leaf in a stream.
“Cenet has his uses.” Shathinor floats next to me. “You should make peace with him and work together to—”
“He’s a mistake.” I glare at him. “One that you made, and one that I don’t intend to live with.”
“You plan to kill him?” We loop up and around the camp.
“Isn’t that obvious?” I won’t let him live, not when he might try to challenge me for the throne one day.
He looks away, then roars with laughter, his wings shaking. “The Ancestors were kind to send you to me, my dear heart. You do me proud.”
“You won’t interfere?”
“No.” He points to a peak up ahead. “Let’s set down there.”
I want to keep flying to stretch out my sore wings even more, but I acquiesce. For now. Snow crunches under my black boots as I land a little unsteadily, and I turn to lean against the dark rock at my back.
A twisted, stunted tree grows from a narrow crack, its thin branches trying so hard to reach the sun. But it will die, just like the soldiers milling about in the valley below. Everything will die and be reborn, this world mine to shape as I please.
Shathinor lands and turns his gaze to the valley.
“When can we march?” I’m itching to start the war, to bring death to the summer lands.
“You are so like me.” He tries to tuck my hair behind my ear.
I duck away.
He looks almost … crestfallen, and his tone turns wistful. “I missed your entire life.”
“You didn’t miss much.” The memories of my ‘human’ life disgust me.
“But I did.” He sighs heavily. “If only I’d known you existed, I’d have …”
“You’d have what?” I wave his words away. “Saved me from my stepfather’s beatings? Brought me to Arin? Had me live with you and your undead in that slovenly cave for centuries? Is that it?”
Irritation flickers across his face, but he tamps it down and continues, “If I had known when you were still a child, still here in Arin, think of how all that could have been different.” He peers at me, his black eyes probing. “Maybe if you’d been allowed to grow and thrive, you could have fought by my side in the last war. You could have saved me from the pretender. We could have ruled together, and I wouldn’t be in this state.” He glances at his silver chest plate and to the ruin hidden beneath it. “You and I could already have the world in our grasp. But your whore of a mother took all that away from me, banished you to earth, and sent herself to the Ancestors to make sure that secret was never revealed.”
I smirk. “What she didn’t know is that Cecile is an utter moron and sent me to Arin anyway.” I laugh, the sound harsh like crushing rock. “Good job, Sis.”
“Perhaps it had to happen this way.” He goes to reach for me again but lets his hand drop. “You are more powerful now than even the prophecy suggested. I can feel you, the darkness inside you seemingly bottomless.”
“Jealous?” I summon a ball of black death into my palm.
“Proud.” He swipes the ball away and tosses it at the stunted tree.
It withers and dies, its remains cascading down the unforgiving rock and into the oblivion below.
I run my fingers along my shoulder as I peer into my mirror. Leander’s bite is healed, but the fang marks will never go away. Claimed. Just like he promised me. But Leander claimed a foolish girl, one who believed in unicorns and fairytales. I press my thighs together as I contemplate our next mating, how much more it will be for both of us. He will be surprised, I’m sure, to find me in this vastly improved state. No matter. The bond is still there. I am still his. Soon I will show him how much better our mating will be now that I’m fully fae and imbued with my father’s dark power. He will love me like no other, and I will reward him for his devotion.
I sigh and lean forward, the dresser’s shoddy wood nicked and marred, though my father has laid out precious jewels along the top for me. Did he expect me to fawn over them? I swipe them aside but stop when my hand touches the soulstone.
The simple pendant has no power over me now. I run my fingers down its face, the smooth opal warm under my touch. Sometimes I think I hear it whispering to me in Delantis’s voice. The obsidian blade does the same. But whatever she wants to tell me, I don’t care to hear. I have everything I need. My army is prepared to march, and I’m ready to lead. Cenet plots behind my back, telling my father I’m not battle-tested, that I’m not ready. I close my hand into a fist. When the time comes and his head is on a pike, we’ll see who was ready.
Cecile walks in, my laundered clothes in her arms. She doesn’t look at me, and for the first time since I’ve known her, her confidence is drained away. Shoulders slumped, eyes down—she’s beaten.
“I like you like this.” I spin away from my dresser to face her.
She hangs my clothes without a word.
I smile. “How’s your little human?”
Her motion stops for only a moment before she continues.
“I thought perhaps I’d killed her.” I call the darkness into my palm and play with it, tickling the tendrils of death with my fingertips. “But I hear she lives.”
When she doesn’t respond, I send a wisp of black to curl around her throat. “I’m speaking to you, Sister.”
“We’re not sisters.” She turns to me, the fire back in her silver eyes. “We will never be sisters.”
“Blood is blood.” I pull the darkness back inside myself, as if sucking it through a straw.
“You’ll never take the summer realm.” She hugs herself. “Queen Aurentia will—”
“Fall just like all the rest.” I rise and walk to her, reveling in the dark circles beneath her eyes and her lackluster hair. A week in the caves has robbed her of all the beauty she used to wield on earth. “I never realized it when you were in the human world, but here, surrounded by your own kind, you’re nothing special.”