The Shadow Queen (Ravenspire, #1)(37)
“He wasn’t wrong.” The finality in his voice silenced her. “You expended so much energy and caught one boy. Was it worth almost dying?”
“I had to.” She found the strength to sit up straight and leaned toward Viktor until she could feel the warmth of him against her skin. “Viktor, I had to. The rest of the village was loyal to me. They were ready to help me find the mountain girl. But this boy ran. Why would he do that if he wasn’t going to warn her? If he didn’t think she was the princess? I’d lose her and have to start all over, and I can’t. If Lorelai is alive, I have to find her and destroy her before she tries to destroy me.”
Slowly, so slowly she could’ve moved away if she’d wanted to, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers. Her body swayed toward him, finding a home against his chest where she fit perfectly within the circle of his arms. Warmth that had nothing to do with the burn of magic rushed through her, sparkling like champagne in her veins, and she grabbed his mangled collar and pulled him closer.
He made a rough noise, tilted her head back, and kissed her with a desperation he only ever showed her when they were alone. Gone was the calm, unflappable Viktor who managed the castle’s affairs with a steady hand. In his place was a man full of fierce longing and need who kissed Irina like she was the air, and he was drowning.
For a few heartbeats, she let herself feel it. Let herself believe it. This could be hers. All she had to do was say the word, and she wouldn’t be alone.
She wouldn’t be alone, but there would be a price for that. There was always a price. Her father, who loved her sister best, had taught her that. Her uncle, who crushed her dreams by breaking Morcantian protocol that stated the eldest daughter was to be married first and letting Arlen have Tatiyana for his bride instead of Irina, had reminded her. And Lorelai, the little princess with the power so like Irina’s own, had carved that lesson deep into Irina’s heart with the knife of utter betrayal.
She pulled away from Viktor.
He looked at her, the desperate longing still raw in his eyes, and said, “What do you need? Just tell me what you need.”
Her fingertips itched. Her palms burned. The memory of Lorelai’s betrayal obliterated the warmth she’d felt while kissing Viktor, and the awareness that tingled at the edge of her power rushed forward.
Lorelai.
“Bring me my mirror, please.”
The moment her palm touched the mirror’s surface, magic sparked from her fingertips and the swirling gray depths of the mirror began to move faster. Her hands shook, her skin clammy as she gave the command.
“Mirror, mirror, your depths I scry,” she said as power gathered in her palms and leaped toward the glass. “Show me the princess Lorelai.”
The white light of her magic spiraled into the swirling gray of the mirror, and suddenly there she was—lying on a blanket inside a tent, her eyes closed, a black man with his back to the mirror bending over her, and an enormous gyrfalcon perched just inside the tent’s entrance. Her skin was as white as snow, her lips as red as blood, and her long hair as black as ebony.
“Lorelai,” the queen whispered. She looked up at Viktor, her voice shaking. “She’s alive.”
FIFTEEN
KOL STOOD ON the balcony of his room in Ravenspire’s castle and stared at the midnight sky. How was Brig faring without him? How much ground had his army lost to the ogres while he’d been gone? The council hadn’t sent word for him to return, so he had to believe the ogres had yet to threaten the capital, but that could change in an instant. His people needed saving, and so far his desperate mission to get help from Queen Irina had been a spectacular failure.
He couldn’t hold up his end of the bargain without a specific scent to follow. The trip to Nordenberg had been as terrifying as it had been unproductive. It was one thing to know he was dealing with a mardushka of extraordinary power. It was another to see it in action.
All that power, however, had been for naught. No princess caught in the queen’s web. No scent for Kol to track. And at the end of the spell, Irina had simply collapsed. He’d been ensconced in the visitor’s wing of the castle for days now with no word on when Irina would be well enough to meet with him. In fact, judging by the somber looks on the faces of the maids and pages who served the Eldrians, many in the castle no longer believed Irina would recover at all.
Which meant Eldr and everyone in it was doomed.
He began pacing the stone balcony, his eyes tracing familiar constellations in the sky above. Did his sister wander her balcony at night staring at the stars while she worried over him?
Did his people fear their second-rate king had abandoned them in their time of need?
Most important, could he come up with a plan to save Eldr that didn’t involve Irina before the ogres destroyed what was left of his kingdom?
The cathedral bells tolled the hour—twelve strikes of a hammer against the bells. Twelve reminders that Kol was running out of time. Eldr was running out of time.
Maybe he could go to Morcant and beg King Milek for favor. Despite what Irina had said about mardushkas in Morcant obeying the laws restricting the use of magic, he bet he could find a price that would tempt Milek into finding a mardushka capable of helping. He doubted Milek would need reminding that Draconi were able to sniff out veins of gold and caverns of jewels buried deep under the ground. It was tantamount to agreeing to enslave himself to the king as a treasure hunter for the rest of his days, but it was better than allowing Eldr to fall.