“One kiss and now you
believe you love this creature? Preposterous. I will not have it. She has you
hexed. Bewitched from your right mind. That is the only reasonable explanation
to account for such impudence. Such lusting can only be derived from dark
magic. It seeps from her pores, can you not feel it?” Mab, the Queen of Air and
Darkness surveyed me with cold disdain before refocusing her wrath on her
son.
“I would never do that,” I
blurted. “I’d never use magic to force someone into loving me.” Venus and I were
very different that way.
Mab snarled. “Do not address
me unless I have given you permission to do so,” she said. “I am the queen of
this court. And you are nothing more than a whelp on the verge of losing her
life.” Her cutting glare flicked back to her son. “I cannot allow this. You
traipsing across lands following this…” she waved her hand in my direction. “It
is madness. I prayed that after you'd taken a taste you would have been
satisfied, satiated of such empty hollow carnal delights and moved on to saner
tasks. Like serving your mother.”
“You removed me from your
court, Mother. I no longer serve you,” Zanthiel replied evenly.
Mab’s voice lowered, and
grew sickly sweet. “My darling, it was but to show you your love for me. Your
loyalty lies within you still. It merely needed a subtle reminder.”
“By way of banning me from
my home, and resigning me to live among thieves, shadows and the dead. It is an
odd way of demonstrating motherly love.”
“There are many expectations
of you. You cannot fulfill your duty with your mind blinded by your heart. This
unhealthy obsession has you transfixed, Zanthiel. Can you not see? She has you
immobilized.” Her voice grew louder and the rafters latterly shook. “And to
what end?”
She looked at me, but I
wasn’t certain she wanted me to answer, so I remained silent. I studied the
chains enclosing Zanthiel’s hands and ankles. Could I break them open, dissolve
them? What if something went wrong, and I hurt him instead? No, it wasn’t the
right time. I glanced over at her statuesque guards, their skin blue from
decades of cold. Two of them were studying me with a vile mix of curiosity and
hunger. One caught my eye and he ran a bloated tongue across his chaffed lips.
My stomach turned over.
“I am hers for as long as
she requires my assistance. It has always been that way. Fated by prophecy. You
know this to be true, Mother.”
He was having trouble
speaking and yet his expression held that same icy glare. By looking at him
you’d never know what pain he was in. But I knew him on a deeper level. I was
beginning to see through his façade, like a smokescreen of glamour, I saw
behind the mask. The fear and loathing and the inexplicable suffering as the
iron ate into his flesh like acid.
The queen’s eyes narrowed
and grew impossibly colder. “Why have you come? Surely you did not expect a
grand and hospitable welcome. What purpose drew you into my court to face
imminent death? Do speak now, whelp,” she said with sudden impatience. “And
know that if you are caught lying I will cut out your tongue and feed it to the
trolls.”
I shuddered, having no doubt
she actually would. “We have a… request.”
I glanced at Zanthiel, blood
seeping from the iron chains binding his wrists and ankles. I couldn’t let him
continue to suffer. The poison would eventually seep into his bloodstream and
kill him. Then she'd direct her wrath at me.
I took a tentative step
forward, not fully convinced I wouldn’t be cut down where I stood, for being so
bold.
But she leaned back against
her throne and tapped a broken fingernail impatiently. “You have my full
attention. Come out with it. What is this request of which you speak?”
Michele
Barrow-Belisle is chocoholic author and artist living in southern Ontario,
Canada with her super-sweet husband, brilliant son and a ridiculously
affectionate cat. Often told by teachers to stop dreaming and get her head out
of the clouds, Michele still spends much of her time lost in make-believe
worlds, populated with fascinating and occasionally terrifying characters. Her
passion for fantasy extends beyond her writing into her clay figure sculpt-ing,
creating miniaturized replicas of the paranormal beings she writes about.
Michele is as passionate about reading as she is about writing. When she’s not
reading or writing, she can be found sculpting tiny fairy desserts in polymer
clay. She also loves mocha lattes and watching fireflies at twilight. Did we
mention she loves chocolate?GIVEAWAY:
$10 Amazon Gift Card, ebook copy of Fire & Ice (mobi/epub),
signed bookmark, gift card for 5 free ebook downloads from Astraea Press
