Made From Death (The Darkest Queens Series Book 1), page 5
Shelby, she recalled his name. His attention drifted from her vibrant irises down to the white marble scar on her neck. He stared for a minute, so long that Ace wondered if he was going to finally react to her.
"What are you? And what do you want?"
Ace grinned at his question. He was uncomfortable, dare she say nervous? She liked the way his hands fidgeted at his sides, his fingers opening and closing in his palms as if he was trying to decide whether he should reach for the butcher knife next to them or unleash his magic without sanction from the queen.
"I told you I would see you again. I just didn't realize it would be so soon…or here."
His voice lowered to a dark rasp. "You are evading the question."
"That's a question with an answer I don't have time to give you."
Ace blinked and Shelby lunged for the knife, opening his mouth to yell. The cool wooden handle met Ace’s grip first as she yanked it away from him and shoved her other palm against his mouth to stifle him. Moisture dampened the inside of her hand as a shout vibrated up her arm. She pointed the knife at him knowing that should he choose to break the rules he could have her incapacitated in under a minute. But what she had was a rule follower, and judging by their small interactions she was willing to bet he wouldn’t dare.
Shelby stilled under her touch, his lips closing and his eyes following her outstretched arm to where the point of the knife was aimed for his neck.
"Now I'm going to remove my hand and you are going to remain quiet. Do you understand?"
His brows pulled together tightly creating a series of wrinkles across his forehead, those dark eyes burning so violently they nearly turned black. He didn’t speak, nor did he nod as the knife pressed against the soft skin at the base of his neck. To keep the knife pointed there her arm had to remain stretched and straight, their height difference making her feel like a child next to him. A child with power, seeing as she was the one with the weapon in her hand.
Time ticked away in Ace's mind; she had a very small window of opportunity and this stupid warlock was taking it away from her. All she wanted was peace. Quiet in her mind from the gods. All she wanted was her resting place, the very eternity she had been ripped from to return here to play puppet.
"Come with me," Ace hissed through her teeth, spinning Shelby toward the warlock’s quarters, letting the blade press between his shoulder blades.
"Thieves are such vile creatures," Shelby whispered back to her. "I do not like you."
"I didn't ask you to like me, warlock. I asked you to stay silent and come with me." Pushing the blade a little deeper, Shelby took that step and another until he hovered at the door. "Open the door."
A heavy drawn out sigh lifted and lowered his broad shoulders. The purple of his marking sash around his neck peeked out from under the collar of his white shirt. If she made him bleed with this knife it would easily show on his clothes.
The door swung shut behind them. The noises of the staff moving in and out of the halls were muffled on the other side of the door with the distance they'd just created too. Ace sighed, grunting with effort as her palm met Shelby's back and she shoved him forward. When he stumbled she took a quick glance at the space they'd just entered.
Just as her blueprints had suggested, to her right was a common area. Plain stone walls, an unlit fireplace, worn green couches, and a long dining table with the chairs haphazardly shoved back into place. To their left was the long hallway Ace had anticipated. A few doors down was the room where the warlocks worked away on their spell books.
Shelby caught her gaze as he crossed his arms over his chest and scowled. Muscles rippled across his jawline as he ground his teeth together.
"Listen to me," Ace started quickly, "I know you aren't going to believe a word I say but I'm here because the gods have sent me." This made him crack a small smile. His brows lifted when he snorted in amusement. "I can prove it to you."
She stared straight at him, trying to bare her soul in this single plea with her eyes. The heat of his attention fell to her scar as if that wasn't proof enough.
"Pray," she said forcefully.
"Pray?" Somehow his eyebrows shot up even higher.
"Pray for the thing you want most. The gods—they talk to me. I do their work for them. Should they grant you favor I will be at your side fighting to answer this prayer. I'll be able to tell you what you prayed for as evidence of my honesty.”
"Are you human?"
"Something like that."
"And you think you have the power to grant me the answers to my prayers?"
"I think the gods have the power to answer your prayers. Unfortunately, I am their hands and feet." She tried not to let too much of her sour attitude seep into the words. "Please just pray."
His beautiful hazel eyes drifted closed and he shook his head frowning. Once again she expected to hear the murmuring of the gods. The chanting of everything he prayed should've repeated to her as he spoke it, but it was quiet. Damn. They’d granted her silence. Please, please! She pleaded with both Sylik and Greshta. Anyone.
"Well?" Shelby asked.
Oh gods…oh gods…she'd done this to herself. Ace squeezed her eyes shut tightly cursing herself and begging for an answer all at once.
"Does it usually take you a while to hear from them?"
"Be quiet!" she snapped, suddenly feeling the weight of her helplessness. She couldn't keep Shelby at knifepoint all night, that was not how her plan was supposed to go.
"The longer you stall the less I believe you," he grumbled, more and more skeptical by the second.
"I—"
Then a far off voice answered her call. A whisper of a god she hadn't heard from before. A voice soft and nearly so sweet she thought for a moment she'd tasted sugar on the back of her tongue. One word. An answer.
Freedom.
Oh, Ace beamed then. She smiled so big it made her cheeks ache. That grin faltered when she really registered what the god had said, what it was exactly that Shelby was wanting.
He wanted to be free. Ace knew the feeling all too well.
The single word was quickly followed by another image. A boy—no, Shelby as a child—screaming as Fae pressed a red iron rod into his side. Scars. He had scars. And he’d been enslaved longer than the queens had ruled.
"Did they…do you…" Shelby swallowed as he watched her expression grow, then melt away.
Would the gods favor Shelby?
"You want freedom," Ace stated plainly. "I'm assuming from the queen."
Shelby took a step away, his back flattening against the wall. He swept his gaze from side to side as if looking for someone who might have heard. If anyone had been around they probably would have said something sooner about the fire-eyed girl holding a butcher knife at a warlock twice her height.
“You were burned.” She pointed to his side. “By Fae.”
"You are a witch."
"Witches don't exist. You know that." Magic was only passed down from man to man, never a woman. Witches, as he'd said, never existed.
"What do you want with me?"
"Well," Ace lowered the knife, "I didn't want anything from you but you so rudely interrupted my perfectly good plan."
"And that plan would be…to steal the appetizers?"
"No." One word; a feeble attempt at defending herself.
He deadpanned, waiting for her continued response. Ace caught herself taking in the entirety of him, the wide shape of his shoulders, his height that made her feel like she was straining her neck, his square jaw, and the cut of his cheekbones under his naturally sculpted eyebrows.
Clearing her throat, she started again. "I need a grimoire from the spellbinding room."
"Why would you target the castle when you could target the market again?"
"Because I'm not only here for the spells. I'm here to get a glimpse of the queen." Shelby's body tensed even at the mention of her. What was the queen to him? A slave driver? A cruel ruler disconnected from reality? "All the queens must die."
Ace turned on her heel, pointing her attention at her feet, hoping he'd follow. Two heartbeats of silence passed before she heard the squeak of his boots as he pushed off the polished wood floorboards and headed in her direction. Heat seared her arm as a large hand wrapped around her wrist. She dug her feet into the ground stopping so suddenly that when she turned Shelby's chest aligned with hers.
“Did you just confess your plans to assassinate the queens to me?” he growled, chest rising with a shaky breath. "How can I trust you?"
"The only thing you can trust is that we have a common enemy." She swallowed the lump that formed in her throat. His fingers still held her wrist tightly but without cutting off the blood flow.
Shelby's lips parted as he peeled his hand away from her skin finger by finger. Even after he'd let her go she could still feel where he'd gripped her.
"What do you need?"
"A spell that will make me look like anybody else. I can't just mosey into a party looking like this." She gestured toward her scar and her face.
His chin dipped in the slightest nod. The barest acknowledgment, or was it agreement?
Ace watched as he stepped around her and headed right into the spellbinding room. The door opened soundlessly but the light from the large windows in the room spilled out into the hallway. She hurried after him, stepping into the room and gently closing the door behind her.
She'd expected tables and leather-bound journals, pens, and ink stains but what she hadn't expected were the chains or the blood splatter. Bindings for ankles were secured into the floor. She swore if she looked long enough she could see blood stained into the wood grain.
Shelby walked straight past the chains to a pile of journals stacked on top of one another on a large desk at the back of the room. One grimoire alone could give any non-magic wielding person over a hundred spells to use as they saw fit. Which meant there were thousands of spells in front of her.
Not once did he look back at Ace as he sorted through the books until he settled on one. He stood, casting his shadow across the floor, arm outstretched with a red book in hand. She made her way through the room, trying not to look at the shackles for too long.
"Thank you," she whispered, carefully taking the journal in her hand. Power thrummed under the cover. Magic was finally at her fingertips and she needed it. Wanted to feel the pulse of it running through her veins and fluttering over her skin.
"I'm not doing this out of the kindness in my heart." He stared down at the stolen kitchen knife. "And if you really do answer for the gods and you're here to answer my prayers then you have a lot of work to do."
Tension riddled her shoulders and she forced herself not to let her attention drift away. Somehow Shelby could sense that too.
"The chains are the least of my worries," he muttered, lips pulling into a sneer. "Freedom is so much more."
"But not being chained up would be nice too." Ace tried to keep her voice confident, playful even, but everything about Shelby was stern, orderly, and least of all playful. It caused nervousness to bubble up inside of her, taking her right back to her childhood where being the youngest—the least mature in her family—was constantly frowned upon. She forced herself to recognize that she was no longer a child. She told herself that her carefree attitude wasn't always a bad thing and it didn't make her childish.
Shelby stayed close. His tightlipped expression and the still seriousness of his body never changed. It was like the man didn't know how to smile. That was somehow even more intimidating to Ace.
Shoving those feelings aside, Ace let Shelby examine her. Not for the first time, no, this felt too similar to the way he looked at her in the market. He was trying to figure her out. Most days, Ace couldn't figure herself out so she doubted he could come up with any sort of realistic assumption about her so quickly.
"Freedom is more," he repeated, his voice low and serious. "The gods gave you your hardest challenge yet. I don't just want to rid myself of chains; I don't ever want to run again. I don't want to be owned. I don't want to be hunted. I don't want to hide my true nature because you humans can't handle it. I want more."
She set the knife down—closer to her than him and clamped her fingers tightly around the journal. She found herself reaching for the gods again. Her first day of silence from all the noise they created in her head and she felt…empty. What was she looking for in their silence? Reassurance that she could make Shelby's prayers come true? Release from this new responsibility? She couldn't be sure.
Ace nodded once. A silent agreement, a weary commitment.
Opening the journal, she could already feel the power of the spells on the pages before she spoke the words. The paper vibrated under her fingers sending a shiver up her arm. Each page had scribbles of words written in sloppy scrolling script. Her eyes scanned the spell, a finger already slipping behind the thin page.
"Here." Shelby stretched an arm over her and began turning pages. He stopped and ran his index finger down the spell before pulling his hand away. When his arm brushed hers he stepped away quickly.
Ace tossed him a dry look over her shoulder before she began reciting the spell under her breath. As she spoke she tore the paper from the book and crumbled it into her palm. Hot tingles chased over her skin. The back of her tongue burned like she was eating a hot pepper instead of reciting a simple spell.
With her eyes squeezed shut she felt the way her hair pulled up and away from her neck, the weight of her clothing transformed from thick fabric around her shoulders to around her waist. The too big boots tightened to conform around her feet, the sharp point of a heel lifting her. Not only that, but her entire body seemed to stretch. Ace knew without a doubt that when she opened her eyes again she'd have an entirely different point of view.
The only things that hadn't changed were her internal monologue—only the worst sort of spells could do that and those were forbidden to anybody but the queens and their highest ranking officials—and the weight of the book she quickly dropped to the floor. She cracked one eye and then the other. Everything in the room was still the same but somehow not. She turned slightly as she adjusted to the height she'd just been given.
"Mirror," she whispered, her new voice foreign to her. "Is there a mirror?"
Heavy footsteps told Ace that Shelby was obliging the request as she stared down at her own hands. Her normally warm brown skin had darkened a few shades, a tone more similar to Shelby's. Her fingers were longer, skinnier even, with long nails filed to a perfect oval shape, and no dirt to be seen underneath them.
Those hands—a stranger’s hands—began to roam over her torso. Wide hips narrowed to a slender waist and up…and up…breasts! Into puberty Ace had been relatively small chested but these things on her now were so massive there was no mistaking her womanhood.
That was how Shelby turned back to find her. Hands fisting her bosom, Ace marveled down at herself. Shelby’s lips parted with a sharp inhale. His legs stuttered awkwardly into his next step.
"What are you doing?" he snapped.
"My breasts! They got bigger!" Ace smiled widely, noticing the difference in how that too felt on her face.
"Would you let go of yourself? This is beyond inappropriate."
"Oh, relax. No one else is going to see me." His jaw chorded. "And don't act as if you magically changed your…you know… size you wouldn't be playing with it."
Those dark eyes flashed in warning. "You have a filthy mouth."
Ace laughed a little at that. "A terribly nasty, vulgar mouth. At least I didn't outright say penis." Shelby jutted his arm out, sighing loudly. "Or dick…" His mouth pressed into a firm line. "Or cock…"
"Shut your mouth!" he growled.
She rolled her eyes in response. Just as quickly as he had offered the mirror, Shelby retracted from her as she took the object, one hand still on her chest, and began gazing at her new reflection. Her words then became low mumbles as she tried to take in her image while keeping her train of thought.
"For someone with that body part, you sure do seem uncomfortable with the word." Her lips had thinned, her mouth widened to fit the long oval-shaped face she now wore. Her eyes had rounded and now watched her back with bright green irises. Beautiful but so much less startling than the orange. Her hair had become coarser, pulled up into a tight bun to contain the small curls. Instead of her servant outfit, all her clothing had been transformed into a lavender gown that flowed off her waist with the help of a small skirt hoop to hold it in place.
Her voice continued to grow weaker but she managed to finish her thought. "Does the word testicles bother you just as much?"
"Well, now you look the part of the lady but you'll ruin the magic of it as soon as you start talking." He looked her up and down, never once meeting her eyes.
"You'll just have to do all the talking then."
"What—no. No, I'm not coming with you. I'm not attending the queen’s party."
"Shouldn't you want to take up the position? The queen did invite all eligible bachelors." She lowered the mirror.
"I don't think she would consider me eligible."
"Nevertheless, you're my partner in crime now."
"Don't say that."
"Say what?"
"Don't call me your partner in your law breaking."
"But you are?" She offered him a coy smile she was sure was much more dazzling on this new body than her old one.
"No. No, you forced me into this. The knife, remember?" He pointed a long finger at the blade that sat on the messy desk, the evening sun reflecting off its sharpened edge.
"Ah, but we struck up a deal and you gave me the spell willingly."
Shelby ran his tongue over his teeth, bringing both hands up to rub at his temples to ease the headache Ace was giving him.
He wanted to continue arguing, Ace could tell that much by the way he continued to put distance between him and her. He placed his hands on the desk between them, leaning on it till the wood creaked at his weight. Before he spoke his lips always teased at a small frown. His mouth did just that before he started. "So wha—”
