A Thief of Nightshade(83)
He pivoted and saw, to his shock, a giant bear. Seconds later, the bear morphed into his brother. Aislinn’s eyes had locked onto something beyond where Jullian stood.
“Aubrey,” Jullian choked. As he rushed to her, everything that had happened since his return to Avalar came back to him–their dance at the masquerade and her tears, the desperate heart-shattering cries as he’d pushed her into the Sidhe’s steely grasp with his own hands, the grief in her eyes as she’d looked to him for help and lastly, the sound of her singing waking him the night before.
He pulled her limp body into his arms, brushed the hair from her face.
Tears came as the knowledge of what she’d done for him fell on his heart. She had come to Avalar. She’d found a way to cross over and had fought her way here, defeated the Fae Queen. Aubrey had saved him and she’d saved Avalar.
“Aislinn, what’s going on?” He still couldn’t quite believe this hadn’t all been another one of his nightmares.
“Jullian, she’s not well.” Aislinn’s face was flushed with exertion as he knelt beside him. “Saralia sent a Time Wraith...”
“Ash ... no!” Jullian raced to look her over. His memory of what Saralia had said to Aubrey at the masquerade, of her wounds, took on a new and heavy weight.
“Please, no. Tell me this isn’t real. Tell me!”
Aislinn tugged the back of Aubrey’s dress aside to reveal the wounds that marred her skin. “She used everything she had left to make it here and fight for you.
I’m so sorry. She won’t remember you when ... if she wakes up.”
Something swung toward them and Aislinn blocked it with a sword. “Hang on Jullian, just ... stay with her. We’re not done yet. Saralia isn’t a threat anymore, but everyone else on her side...” Morrigan had come at them. “Don’t move. You don’t have your bearings back enough to fight.”
Jullian started to shift to his feet, one hand outstretched for the sword. Aislinn couldn’t fight to save his own life the last time they’d seen one another.
“Don’t even think about it,” Aislinn said, “this one is mine.”
“Cedrick!” Aislinn didn’t want anyone’s help with this, but an idea had suddenly come to him. Morrigan’s sword clashed with Aislinn’s and sent him stumbling to one knee. He quickly recovered and moved just in time to avoid a blow to his head.
Cedrick, who could take care of most of his enemies with the use of magic, dropped two Sidhe with a bit of dust from a pouch on his bag, and sauntered closer.
“Saralia’s right-hand man?”
Aislinn gained enough of a foothold to slice Morrigan’s forearm, but the upper hand didn’t last and soon their swords crossed and held. Aislinn grunted, “Yes it is. Could you do something for me?”
“Why should I do anything for you?”
“You turned my arm into a tin can!”
Cedrick grimaced. “Perhaps. Tell you what, I’ll do whatever you want if you promise I can have Saralia once we’re all through here.”
Aislinn daringly took his eyes off Morrigan long enough to glance at the Queen, who still writhed on the floor in pain caused by the spell Oberon had cast on the false Oran. “Without the Lyr, she’ll die soon anyway. She’s all yours.”
Morrigan snarled, “I should have killed you when I had the chance, Ellohim.”
He hooked one of his feet around Aislinn’s ankle, which brought them both to the ground.
“What do you want me to do?”
Cedrick asked, casually peering down at them.
Aislinn took both his feet and planted them against Morrigan’s chest, then pushed with everything he had. “Turn him into an ass.”
Morrigan hit the wall with a loud crack and slumped to the floor.
“Seems like he’s already got that under control. You don’t want me to just kill him for you?”
“A donkey! And no, I want you to take him wherever you’re planning on taking Saralia and make him work like the animal that he is. Or you’re more than welcome to eat him.”
“Isn’t this final showdown supposed to be drawn out ... you’re supposed to get injured somehow,
make
the
final
vengeance sweeter, or something like that.”
“Oh no ... believe me, nothing will be sweeter revenge than knowing he’ll spend the rest of his life without opposable thumbs or toilet paper.”
Cedrick shrugged, reached into his pouch and waltzed to where Morrigan lay.
With the smallest bit of powder, Aislinn’s archenemy was turned into a baying donkey. The sight of it made his eyes water and that tickled him. He laughed under his breath.
He heard more scuffling nearby, but needed to catch his breath. That’s when he heard Given’s sobs.
She hunched over Oberon’s body, her head lowered to his lifeless chest.
Blood covered her right shoulder from what appeared to be a knife wound.
Lipsey quietly sat next to her, big tears rolling down his chubby cheeks.
Jullian approached Aislinn with Aubrey in his arms, as all movement in the throne room stilled. “Who is that?”
Aislinn cleared his throat as grief for Oberon, the King he’d never wanted to admit to even liking, reached his heart.