Heavy is the Crown: A Gothic Grove Novel, page 29
Astrea darts out from behind her shield, those two blades now in her hands, taking down anyone who crosses her path, as Onyx and Buttercup cut their own path of death through the crowd. At some point between when I last saw my friend fight and now, she’s grown into something incredibly lethal that I’m not even sure my magic can stop.
An agony akin to starvation grips me, and I cry out. My magic rips through me near constantly now, emptying the space it should hold in my body. “Oisin! You’ll fucking kill me!” But he ignores me, his sole focus on getting to Astrea, even as I collapse to the ground.
FORTY-FOUR
I often wonder if things would have been different if I never had visions. If being a seer wasn’t my destiny.
-Hansley Mori
Shadow
(“(I Just) Died In Your Arms Tonight” – Hidden Citizens)
The air explodes with the scent of magic, both Ava’s and Astrea’s. A cold wave of dread moves through the three of us as we see people come running from the palace, and guards pushing to gain entry through the massive crowd.
“Astrea is using her magic. I can feel the pull,” Ciaran says. “We need to fucking get in there right now.” His eyes flare red.
I glance at Drago, who nods. His power pulses through the air as his shift starts. “You two go in and get them. I’ll take care of anything out here,” Drago growls.
“I love you,” I say. “Don’t do something stupid.”
“I love you, too.” His eyes turn gold, and his skeletal dragon breaks free, pushing from the rooftop and letting out a massive ball of black flames into the air before his roar rattles the very foundation of the rooftop we are on.
Jackson
(“The Devil Wears a Suit and Tie” – Colter Wall)
I stare out over the crowd that's amassed outside what was once my home, eyes shifting uneasily. Since this fucking usurper invaded, it no longer looks like the space I grew up in. What was once vast and sprawling forest and gardens has been replaced by huge walls to keep people out . . . or to keep people in, it’s unclear. Oisin has created a separation between the citizens and the royals that even my monster of a father never had. The wind shifts, blowing my hair into my face and bringing the scent of magic with it. The sky overhead crackles as if it knows powers are about to clash.
Somewhere in the crowd are our companions, anxiously awaiting the return of the Harbinger witch. And even deeper in the crowd are the two that I brought in as back up.
Dios moves up next to me, the wolf shifter silent even on two feet. I allow my eyes to pull toward him briefly. “You got them settled?”
“Si.”
I let out a sigh. “I need your help with something.”
He raises his eyebrow at me. “What is it you need?” His voice is rich and feels smooth running over my body.
“There is a woman, my contact. I need her out and unharmed when all this goes down,” I reply without looking at him.
He moves closer, his scent washing over me. Leather and gasoline. He sets me aflame with things I never knew I wanted or needed. All my life, I have been the dutiful prince, something I was happy to do, honestly, never questioning what my own personal wants and needs were. At least until meeting Dios. Until I realized what it might do to me to say goodbye to him. And I will have to say goodbye soon. He cannot stay here with me. For so many fucking reasons, he cannot stay here with me.
“Sending me in will deliver a message,” he says simply, cutting off my train of thought.
I put a cigarette to my lips and light the end, watching the flame flare before disappearing, leaving nothing but the smoldering ember that I pull from. The smoke curls around us in a haze, clinging to us both. I want nothing more than to pull us back into that townhouse and get lost in his body again. I want to pretend that after today, nothing will change, and we will go back to this forbidden affair we have begun. That I won’t have to be a king, and he won’t have to be . . . what he is.
“Mi cielo?”
My heart stutters at the pet name he’s come to use for me. “I don’t give a fuck what kind of message it sends. Let them understand what they’ve done siding with that fuck.”
He lets out a deep, rumbling chuckle. Not one that inspires warmth but one that sends chills through my entire body. He’s right, it’ll send a huge fucking message when he’s seen walking through those halls. I know I should care, should worry what it’ll say about my reign as king. But truthfully, I’m not confident we’ll survive the fucking night, so that will be tomorrow’s problem.
“Who is this girl to you?” He pulls the cigarette from my mouth between his thumb and pointer finger and places it in his own, drawing the smoke deep into his lungs. His mismatched eyes glow as he looks at me.
Taking a deep breath, I pause, trying to decide how much to tell him. “I’m not sure how to answer that,” I say truthfully. “She met me at a time when I had no one else, really. And she took a risk that I worry cost her more than it should have.”
He looks at me pensively before giving a shrug. “How will I know her?”
“She’ll have her mouth bound by a mask. You won’t miss her. Trust me on that.” Anger still radiates through me at what Oisin has done to her. Nothing survived in a five-block radius after she left me. My power incinerated everyone and everything before I managed to pull myself together. I had promised to keep her safe.
But that promise had been made before she volunteered to go undercover, I try to remind myself.
“And if I encounter anyone?”
I know what he is asking. “If they aren’t with us, kill them. Paint the fucking halls red.”
Another wicked chuckle escapes him before he passes the cigarette back to me and stuffs his hands in his pockets. “See you on the other side, mi cielo.”
I watch as I send a devil of a different kind into a den of vipers, before dropping off the roof to the ground below.
Drago
Rage flows through my bones. My dragon does not care who gets in the way.
We set the city on fire with our black flame.
Our skeletal wings push buildings over and our roar shatters glass.
Our goal is simple: Bring this city down. Make it impossible for any reinforcements to gain entry.
FORTY-FIVE
The Lady of Souls is a position of great importance. And it is incredibly lonely.
-Priestess Codex
Ava
(“Me and the Devil” – Soap&Skin)
The walls of the palace shake, the cold glass almost cracking as a roar deafens us. A roar that I would know anywhere. Drago. My mate.
Screams can be heard echoing throughout the halls. Astrea has left a trail of bodies in her wake as she has held her own against Oisin, against me. But I can see her energy waning, see that she is holding onto her mind the best she can.
“You can’t keep this up forever!” Oisin yells.
“We can’t, either,” I mutter as he drains more and more of my magic.
Astrea grits her teeth. “I don’t have to.” She dodges a guard's sword before gracefully stabbing her dagger through his armor. “I only have to hold out long enough to kill you. And I will kill you, make no mistake.” But even from here, I can see the sweat beading on her brow, and with each wave of that black mist she sends out, her body sags a little more.
“Tell me, Harbinger, is it the madness you are avoiding? Or do you truly just not know how to wield your magic?” He jumps off the dais, dragging me with him by the arm. The release of the leash gives me a moment's peace, my body sagging and my mind rapidly trying to make sense of everything that’s happened.
“Oisin!” My mother’s voice cuts through the room, the sound of her high heels suddenly piercing my ears. Oisin turns to look at her. “We are ready!”
“Finally,” Oisin drawls, his voice laden with annoyance.
That's when I see Lady Ornate, Cordelia, and a few other witches appear beside my mother. All of the witches are decaying and smell of death. Oisin didn’t just reanimate Cordelia, he reanimated the whole damn coven. The thought slams into me with the sudden understanding of just how deeply Oisin has gone into magic he never should have touched. When one of the witches shifts, my eyes meet the Mori grimoire held tightly in her decaying hands.
“No,” I breathe out as the magic starts to snap in place. I push against the control over me, forcing my mouth open. “Astrea, run!” I scream. Oisin turns, red eye flaring with rage as he grabs hold of the leash, silencing me again.
For a second, I think I gave her enough time to run, but I see vines of golden magic start to pepper the ground around her. When one attaches to her leg, she screams in agony before sending her magic slicing through another that was attempting to latch to her arm. Vine after vine appears until they manage to tether both legs and both arms.
More of her magic flares out as she fights off the containment, while Onyx and Buttercup attempt to intercept the witches crowding around her. Then another loop appears around Astrea’s throat, and the two snakes instantly mist away and reappear solid on her body again. I watch as my best friend thrashes against the spelled vines to no avail, and my heart drops to the floor when I realize we are losing.
Shadow
(“Voices” – Hidden Citizens)
Ciaran walks forward, toward the back entrance Jackson directed us to. Off to the side and covered by shrubs, the gate has been all but forgotten, only used now as a way for servants to send trash in and out. Even from here, I can feel the wards rolling, black eels alive and well. Ciaran lifts his hand, his gold magic wrapping around them, and the magic drops out, our path suddenly clear.
As we move to walk forward, Ciaran stumbles, clutching his chest.
“Ciaran?”
He growls. “It’s Astrea. Something is wrong.” For a beat, he holds his chest, before righting himself. “We need to hurry.” He pulls his sword off his back, and flames wreath my hand as we walk in. The halls are quiet compared to the screams outside. The passage has low light, cool stone and marble lining the walkway. Shimmering torchlike lamps hang low, giving an eerie feel. Our footsteps are loud, echoing off the walls as we push forward.
“The passage lets out in a closet, he said,” Ciaran repeats to me, as if I hadn’t been there when he told us. “Just a little further. We can make it.”
I’m not sure who he is trying to convince, me or himself.
FORTY-SIX
We will return.
-Mori Family Grimoire
Ava
(“This Is Where It Ends” – Hidden Citizens)
Oisin circles Astrea. My own exhausted body lies in a pile next to the thrones he created. His voice seems distant as he talks with my mother and the decaying coven. My eyes stay locked on my friend, an apology hopefully evident in them. Oisin erected a shield of my creation around the palace, blocking Drago out and presumably Shadow, and he seems confident that the magic will hold against my mates. The way I feel right now, I am hopeful that confidence is misplaced.
I hope Shadow is safe. My heart stutters at the reasons Shadow wouldn’t be with Drago.
No. Just because you haven’t heard him or heard anyone talk about another dragon doesn’t mean something bad has happened to him. If Ciaran and Astrea are here, he is to.
Cordelia’s reentrance to the room stops the conversations. My mouth goes dry at what she holds in her hands. The same golden collar that I have on. They are going to collar Astrea. Her eyes flare wide at the same moment the realization hits me. Rage and fear are painted across my friend’s face.
It all happens in slow motion, Cordelia nearing Astrea, Oisin smiling in victory, and the door bursting open to reveal Ciaran and Shadow.
Shadow
(“Don’t Speak” – Hidden Citizens)
I zero in on Ava’s crumpled form near the gawdy thrones of gold. Nothing else exists as I see her pale body, shoved into that wedding dress. I don’t hear anything other than her broken sob of relief as she locks eyes with me. Relief unfurls in my chest, too, but at the same time, I’m consumed with rage.
“Astrea!” Ciaran bellows, pulling my gaze from my mate to my friend's mate, who is bound in the center of the room.
Astrea thrashes against those magical bindings, her own gaze pulled to us and those green eyes seeming to switch from black to green and back to black all in the span of a second. Her dark magic flickers like a candle flame as the magic holding her tightens its hold, drawing her body closer to the ground.
“Ciaran, go! Get Ava and go!” she screams. “He’s got more collars!”
Oisin’s cackling laughter echoes in the room. “Hello, brother. I was hoping you would come. It’s so lovely to finally have you home.”
Ciaran growls, and his golden magic snaps at Oisin. “I will fucking gut you, brother.” The magic slams into the wards erected between us and them. Oisin’s face pales slightly, the smile sliding from it as the wards seem to falter under the strain of Ciaran’s magic.
Ava
I laugh in shocked delight as hope fills me. “You are so fucked.”
In the blink of an eye, Oisin’s in front of me, hand wrapped around the chain again. My magic flows out against my will in a glittering expansion. I want to scream, but I can only stand there as he plays with his pretty puppet.
“Time to show them where your allegiance lies,” he whispers into my ear.
I cringe as my will is drained back out of me and the strings are pulled taut once again. Shadow lunges forward, even as Ciaran continues to break down the wards. Flames meet the transparent barrier as my mate fights with everything he has to get to me.
“Get that fucking collar on her,” Oisin screams at my mother and Lady Ornate, who have taken the job from Cordelia. The zombie-witch is looking rapidly through the grimoire, no doubt for something to help Oisin. The two women seem hesitant to approach Astrea, whose eyes have gone wholly black now, and the golden vines are smoldering. Holy gods, she is going to break through the magic. If I can stall this for a little longer, she could break free. We could win.
Oisin’s voice pulls me away from her and back to Shadow and Ciaran as he addresses them. “I would like to introduce you to my new wife.” He walks us forward, my body following him like a loyal puppy. Shadow’s flames and Ciaran’s magic cut off, neither willing to risk hurting me. “She looks beautiful, doesn’t she? Tell them, my dear, tell them all about our time together.”
Whether it's true or not, Oisin forces my mouth open, and half-truths and lies pour from me like an avalanche. Shadow’s devastated look would gut me if I could feel anything. Oisin commands the words, and I repeat them. Ciaran looks furious, the runes burning brightly across his head.
“We will kill you,” Ciaran vows, his knuckles white as they hold his sword.
(“Paint It Black” – Hidden Citizens)
A scream from Astrea has me glancing back to her, only to see her magic faltering again, and the golden collar being placed around her pale neck. The pieces suddenly form together in my memory. This—this is how my vision starts. The realization is enough for me to push through the small fissure in that wall holding my will back. Tears silently track down my face as I realize this is the end. That despite it all, we are still losing.
Oisin drags me forward, the train of my white dress dragging behind me. Shadow is screaming my name. Ciaran’s eyes are locked on my mother as she firmly locks the collar around Astrea. I need to fight this. I need to get them out.
I pull against the inner chains binding me. I hit that small fracture, cracking it wider and wider until it splits open and I’m breaking through the magic. My purpose is clear. It’s my magic holding Shadow and Ciaran back. My magic they cannot breach in time. I might not be able to access it with this collar, but I can sure as hell cut Oisin off from it. A strange sense of calm washes over me like a gentle ocean wave pushes over a rock. There is strength in the knowledge that you know how something will end. Even if it’s terrifying.
My magic wanes as Oisin pulls and pulls, taking more than he should, before he finally releases me and allows my body to drop to the floor near Astrea, but not close enough to touch her. He blasts a wave into Ciaran and Shadow, sending them flying backward. Shadow manages to land on his hands and knees, but Ciaran hits the back wall with a resounding crack.
“CIARAN!” Astrea’s broken scream cuts through the room as she sees her mate's limp body crumpled on the floor.
“This is working out better than I planned. Not only will I have two dragons, but I’ll have the Harbinger as well.” He sneers at Shadow as he grabs me by my hair, pulling me back to my feet. “I’m going to keep you alive, dragon. You will have a matching collar to the one she wears; you’ll be at my service, whether you want to be or not. You thought the prison Alexi kept you in was bad? Mine will be so much worse.”
My sobs echo around the room as I think of what that will do to him. My chest cracks in two like the land on a fault line during an earthquake.
Oisin glances back to Astrea. “She’ll look beautiful tethered to me. A matching set, if you will.” His eyes are hungry.
The palace shakes, and plaster starts to fall from the ceiling. Outside, screams and shrieks echo through the air amid the sounds of Elkers and other hellish beasts that should never have been set loose. But it’s the roar in the distance that I focus on the most. Drago is not far; I can taste his magic. In a matter of moments, he’ll be here, and my gut tells me that will be the nail in the coffin. I close my eyes, steeling my spine, and give another shove against the magic of the collar.
Shadow lifts his head, eyes full of fear and panic as I give him a sad smile. One that I hope conveys how much I wish we could have had longer together, that this isn’t his fault, it's just our fate. He opens his mouth to yell, but I shake my head as I manage to pull control from the leash for just a moment.
