Possessed by the Fallen. Sharon Ashwood

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СКАЧАТЬ no one could overhear. There was much she couldn’t explain even to Amelie—not yet. She didn’t want to frighten the princess by telling her the fate of an entire race was in her hands.

      The fey were beings made of magic as much as they were of flesh and blood. Very little bound them to a physical form in the earthly realm, especially after isolating themselves for centuries. Now they were dying before their time. Lark had held her own mother’s hand, dry and lifeless as old paper and twigs, as she’d dwindled to nothing. Her eyes had grown dull as the magic within them had dimmed and guttered like a spent candle. Those had been the worst days and nights of Lark’s life.

      Only an anchor in the mortal realm would save the Light Fey from fading away, and that anchor would come through the power of royal blood. This was why the royal wedding and the coronation that followed mattered so very much.

      The treaty surrounding Amelie’s marriage to Kyle stipulated that within a year of the royal wedding, the kings of Marcari and Vidon would step down. Then Kyle and Amelie would ascend the thrones, unite the kingdoms and rule together in an equal partnership. Amelie would be a queen in her own right.

      Like many coronation rituals, the oath of the Marcari monarch would symbolically tie her to the land in a wedding every bit as binding as her marriage to Kyle. Such unions worked in very concrete ways with the fey. Even though the princess had only a little of their blood, it was enough that Amelie’s coronation would bind the Light Fey to the earthly realm and save them from extinction.

      The fact that the prince and princess had a love match would make the magic that much stronger.

      Amelie’s face was grave. “If I marry Kyle, any children of ours will carry Light Fey blood. There are those among the Vidonese who would think nothing of harming them because of it.”

      “True, and that brings me to my business here tonight.”

      Lark reached into her coat pocket and withdrew a bottle containing a few ounces of clear liquid. It was small enough that Jack had missed it when he’d frisked her. “It took some time for our spell experts to find the right ingredients—some are incredibly difficult to obtain—but this was what your mother used to keep both her and you safe when you were very young. If you drink this, it hides every trace of fey characteristics in the blood.”

      Amelie took the bottle. “Why do I need this? I’m not having a blood test.”

      “Perhaps you should. Or perhaps you should cut your finger somewhere public enough to leave traces of your blood behind. Any enemies who suspect your bloodline will test the evidence only to find out their suspicions were unfounded.”

      “I would like to say that is an unnecessary precaution, but I know there are those who hate nonhumans enough to go to any lengths.”

      “Using the potion is a small price to pay for peace of mind. There are no side effects.”

      “Thank you,” said Amelie. “Thank you for teaching me what my poor mother could not.”

      Lark felt a pang of sadness. The death of Amelie’s mother had left her half-fey daughter without magical protection. Discreetly, without even the Company’s knowledge, the Light Court had kept a watchful eye—which was why Lark had been given the task of visiting the princess as often as she could. During those secret visits, Lark had taught Amelie about her fey heritage. Bringing the rare potion was the final step, and now that her mission was accomplished, the Light Fey had only to keep the princess safe until the wedding and coronation were completed. That should have been easy, but Lark wasn’t taking anything for granted.

      “I’ll look after you, Your Highness,” she said. “I promise on my life.”

      No sooner had the words left her mouth than a shudder ran through the room, rattling the china and knickknacks. The abandoned shoes toppled off their high heels. A split second later, a roar pounded from outside, sending another convulsion through the palace. Startled, the little dog scrambled from Amelie’s lap and bolted for the bedroom.

      “That didn’t sound like an earthquake,” said the princess, her voice small and tight.

      “That was an explosion.” Lark jumped up, catching sight of the orange glow through the balcony doors. Instinct warred between terror and a reckless urge to rush to do battle. “There’s a fire.”

      “What?” Instantly, Amelie was at her elbow. “Is anyone hurt? Can you tell?”

      “Let me get a better look.” Lark motioned to the princess to stay where she was. Cautiously, she opened the balcony doors, all of her magical senses on high alert. The sea breeze was cool, but held none of its usual sweetness. Instead, it reeked with the thick smoke hanging in the air—and with the now-familiar stink of Dark Fey spells. She stepped outside, keeping low. There was no point in tempting snipers.

      Amelie was far less cautious. In seconds, she was crouching to Lark’s left, craning her neck to see what was going on. Her stance was as urgent as a strung bow, every trace of the girlish bride abandoned like another pair of shoes.

      “Your Highness, get back inside!” Lark exclaimed.

      Amelie ignored her. “That’s the memorial arch that’s burning! How is that possible? It’s made of marble.”

      Despite herself, Lark stared at the graceful monument that framed the entrance to the public garden. It was indeed on fire, eerie orange and blue flames streaming from its surface. The flagpoles beside it were burning, too, and the flags with the proud black hawk of Marcari were already all but consumed. “Marble doesn’t burn, princess, but magic does.”

      Fear twined like an icy serpent up her back, and she barely gulped back the acid taste of panic. Whatever happened at the Company headquarters is happening here.

      And after the fire that had burned her, flames were Lark’s nightmare. She’d spent months healing from her injuries. Now the urge to bolt was so strong it made her shudder, and she gripped the balcony rail to steady her knees.

      But this was no time for fear. Lark summoned her best voice of command. “Your Highness, get back inside. Now.”

      Amelie gave her an imperious look. She clearly didn’t like giving in, but was smart enough to retreat indoors. Lark followed, latching the doors and drawing the curtains. Her hands trembled a moment before she let the lace panels go, then she took a steadying breath. She’d promised to protect Amelie, and the daughters of the Light Court kept their word.

      “I’ll be right back,” said Lark. “Someone needs a lesson in manners.”

       Chapter 8

      “I’m coming with you,” Amelie said at once. “And don’t tell me to stay here and twiddle my thumbs like a good little princess!”

      Lark shot her a look. “I’m sorry, but that is precisely what I’m begging you to do.”

      “Lark!”

      She tried for humor, hoping to soften her words. “I’m prepared to conjure a troll to sit on you if you try to follow.”

      Amelie’s eyes went wide with annoyance. “I don’t care if you’re an agent of the Light Court or the Company, you have no authority over me!”

      Lark СКАЧАТЬ