The girl’s eyes widened, and she tugged on the collar of her uniform. “But I can’t just . . . you can’t just—”
Lorelai locked eyes with her. “I am Lorelai Diederich, daughter of Arlen Diederich the Third. This is my castle, and I am your queen. If you want the current usurper of a queen to spare your life in the upcoming battle between us, then you need to leave. Now. Go hide somewhere and don’t come back until morning.”
The page slowly backed away.
Lorelai turned away as the girl disappeared into a side corridor. The entrance hall with its sumptuous marble floors, ornately curved staircase, and decorative benches gifted to Queen Rosalinde I a century ago by the ruler of Balavata looked exactly the same as it did in Lorelai’s memory.
She walked to the middle of the room and sank to the floor in the spot where she’d last seen her father alive. Where he’d told her to protect her brother.
Lorelai hadn’t been able to save her father or her brother. But she could honor their memory now. And she could free the rest of Ravenspire, the people her father had pledged to lead and protect—the people he would’ve raised her to lead and protect—from the tyranny of its unlawful queen.
Her fingers tingled, and the cold, implacable heart of the marble stirred. Beneath it, Lorelai felt the barrier of mountain stone that had been used centuries ago as the foundation for the castle. It was her mountain, and the heart recognized her with a little surge of power.
She reached farther, pushing past the stone to the ground of Ravenspire itself, introducing herself to its heart once more. Telling it what she wanted and why she was asking.
Showing it that she meant to heal the damage it had endured all these years.
Lorelai pulled her magic back and let a single throb of grief for her father and brother ache in her chest before she lifted her hands.
She felt him—the terrible agony, the desperate need to hurt her—before she saw him.
“Kol.” She looked up and there he was, his eyes bleak and feral, his neck raw from the collar he wore, and his dragon talons curved and ready as he faced her across the expanse of marble that stretched from one end of the hall to the other.
She’d save Kol first and then look for Gabril and Irina.
It’s okay, she sent to Kol, even though she wasn’t sure he could hear her. She stood and faced him, opening her arms. My heart already belongs to you. Come and take it.
Her magic flared, racing through her veins to gather in her palms like lightning. Something flickered in his eyes, and Lorelai leaned toward him, willing him to see her. To trust that she wouldn’t let him become what he feared the most. That she would save him, no matter what.
“How absolutely touching. I do believe if I left the two of you alone, you might actually manage to rescue him.” Irina’s voice was sugar-coated knives, just like it had been in Nordenberg, but this time, Lorelai wasn’t going to run.
She turned, putting her back to Kol, and found Irina standing in front of the door, Gabril bleeding and chained beside her while an enormous black viper coiled about his neck. Irina’s hands were already wreathed in magic, her smile a slash of cruelty across her face.
THIRTY-NINE
LORELAI FACED IRINA, her magic burning in her palms, her knees shaking. Nine years of training. Hiding. Waking up screaming in the middle of the night with Irina’s cold blue eyes blazing in her memory.
She’d been terrified of what the queen was capable of—she still was. But Lorelai knew what she was capable of. And she knew how far her heart was willing to go—how much she would sacrifice—to take Ravenspire’s false queen off the throne.
It was time to end this. Looking Irina in the eye, Lorelai said, “I told you this was the last day you would ever breathe Ravenspire air again.”
Irina’s lip curled. “You disappoint me.” She took a step forward. “You had so much potential. I could have trained you into a mardushka worthy of being my daughter.”
“I already have a mother,” Lorelai said. “One you tried hard to erase.”
“Oh, I didn’t just try, princess. I erased her very existence.” She took another small step toward one of the wooden benches that lined the wall.
“You can’t erase someone when their memories live on.” Lorelai lifted her chin and held out her hands, palms toward the floor. “I remember my mother. I remember my father and brother, too.”
“You took Arlen from me.” Irina’s voice rose. “You took everything from me.”
Lorelai slowly crouched toward the floor as Irina came closer to the bench. She couldn’t allow Irina to touch the bench without having a spell of her own ready. She remembered the wooden vines from the night her father died.