Debbie Mazzuca Bundle (43 page)
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Authors: Debbie Mazzuca
A tear slid down Evangeline’s porcelain white cheek. “I’m sorry, princess.”
In a burst of light, she disappeared.
Chapter 11
The Enchanted Isles, 1604
Power can be intoxicating. Use it wisely. Don’t become enslaved by it.
Uscias’s warning resonated as strongly with Syrena now as it had on that day a year ago when she’d gone to reclaim the Sword of Nuada. Devastated by Evangeline’s abandonment and the knowledge her brother and Aidan wanted nothing to do with her, she sought out Nuie. Vowing never again would she be at someone’s mercy.
The wizard had persuaded Syrena to remain with him, using their time together to teach her everything she needed to know about Nuie and healing her heart in the process. Although there was nothing he could say that would ease the pain of losing Aidan and Lachlan, his insights into why Evangeline left had helped.
Evangeline’s mother, Andora, had destroyed Tatianna and the Fae of the Enchanted Isles. She’d been responsible for releasing the dark lords, and because of that, Uscias assured Syrena her friend would never do anything to bring harm to their world, including murdering King Arwan. Evangeline had lived in fear of anyone finding out who her mother was, and thanks to Morgana, the secret she’d tried desperately to hide had been revealed.
Once Syrena’s sorrow had eased, Uscias taught her to wield a sword with deadly accuracy, pitting her against first one royal guard, then two. Until at the end of her training, she fought three easily. She battled them from sunrise to sunset, and when they begged for a day’s reprieve, she built her stamina and strength by running from the base of the mountain to the top. At night, no matter how exhausted she might be, Uscias taught her the strategies of war. Soon their efforts had paid off, and she had become a warrior worthy of carrying the magickal weapon.
Syrena sat astride Bowen with her sword across her lap and rubbed her thumb over the precious stones embedded in gold. “I think Uscias would agree, Nuie, I have used my power wisely indeed.” Her heart swelled with pride as she watched the women train in a meadow dotted with purple and pink flowers. Shayla trained five of them in the use of bow and arrow while four others rode alongside Riana. The women watched as Riana leaned over the side of her black steed and struck the stuffed target with brutal efficiency.
Fallyn, and Riana, Shayla’s youngest sister, galloped up the grassy knoll, reining in her mount alongside Syrena. The rays from the midmorning sun glinted in the long, curly mass of her chestnut hair. “Good morning, your highness. You’re up early. Is something amiss?” Fallyn’s emerald eyes sparkled with amusement.
Syrena smiled at the woman who over the last year had become a dear friend, helping to fill the void left by Evangeline. Fallyn had fled from her betrothed, King Broderick of the Welsh Fae, on the eve of their nuptials. Catching him with another woman was only one of the reasons she’d chosen to forgo the arrangement.
Shayla and Riana had followed their sister to the Enchanted Isles. The three women had proven invaluable to Syrena, not only on the battlefield, but in the friendship they so readily offered.
“I wanted to check on our new recruits before I have to meet with Morgana.”
Fallyn winced. “Not the scrying mirror again?”
“No, I’ve hidden it. I won’t let her torment me any longer.” Syrena chewed on her bottom lip. She’d said more than she intended to. She didn’t want anyone to know how seeing Aidan take his pleasure with other women still had the power to affect her, to twist her insides into knots that didn’t unravel for days. But her stepmother seemed to have a sixth sense when it came to Syrena and her feelings for Aidan and her brother.
Whenever the urge to visit the Mortal realm tempted her, Morgana took great pleasure in using the scrying mirror to show her just how little she’d meant to them. Taking advantage of the opportunity to expound on the failings of men—both Mortal and Fae alike.
Fallyn gave Syrena’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “Good for you. I don’t know how you’ve put up with her torture for as long as you have. If I had to see Broderick cavorting with his many mistresses, I think I’d go mad.”
“Do you still love him?”
Fallyn grimaced then nodded. “Silly, isn’t it? After all this time you would think I’d be over the man.”
How could she think Fallyn a fool when she still found herself thinking of Aidan, a Mortal who not only didn’t return her feelings, but despised her for who she was.
Syrena sighed. “Maybe we should be more like Morgana.”
Fallyn looked horrified. “Surely you jest. The woman has no heart. She thinks of no one but herself and her desires. She goes through lovers faster than most men.”
Syrena wrinkled her nose. “You’re right, but for many women, the Isles have become a sanctuary. And without Morgana’s vision, it never would have happened.”
“I suppose, but don’t diminish your part in it all, Syrena. Without you leading our army, protecting the Enchanted realm, none of this would be possible. Lord Bana and Erwn’s rebellion wouldn’t have been put down, and the battle you fought against Magnus and his army has become legendary.”
Syrena waved a dismissive hand. “I didn’t do it alone. None of it would have been possible without you and your sisters, or the other women who fight with us.”
“I know, but it’s you who lead us.”
“And I thank Uscias every day for his guidance.” A flash of red shot between her fingers and Syrena laughed, patting her sword. “And you, too, Nuie, I haven’t forgotten about you.” The red glow turned golden, indicating Nuie’s pleasure at her praise.
“How is Uscias?”
“I don’t know. He’s been busy seeing to Aurora’s training. It seems like forever since I last saw him, but I hope to spend a few days with him once the new recruits are settled.”
“You should go now. We can—” Fallyn’s lips pursed in a grim line as she looked over Syrena’s shoulder.
Syrena shifted in the saddle to see what had drawn her friend’s attention.
“Nessa.” She acknowledged the older woman while tightening her hold on Nuie. Morgana’s handmaiden did little to disguise the fact that she disliked her. Not that it had ever been any different, but it seemed to Syrena that Nessa’s dislike of her had intensified of late. She thought her growing influence over the Fae most likely the cause.
Nessa sneered then thrust a rolled parchment bearing King Rohan’s red seal toward Syrena. A flicker of unease stirred to life inside her. They had been skirting her uncle’s authority for some time now and it seemed he meant to take them to task over the matter.
“Why didn’t Morgana open this?”
“Because your uncle chose to send it to
you
, instead of to the rightful Queen.”
you
, instead of to the rightful Queen.”
Syrena ignored her comment and carefully unraveled the scroll. She scanned King Rohan’s missive. Looking up to meet Fallyn’s questioning gaze, she said, “We’ve been called before the Seelie court and this time my uncle will not tolerate our absence.” She turned her attention to Nessa. “You’d best tell my stepmother to make the necessary preparations. We depart within the hour.”
“My Queen answers to no one. She will call her council together and decide how to respond after they have considered the matter.”
Syrena leaned over Bowen’s flank. “You will tell my stepmother to prepare herself now. I will not risk my warriors in a battle with King Rohan, King Broderick, and King Gabriel simply because of some petty machinations on Morgana’s part.”
“How dare you think to dictate—”
“You go too far, Nessa. See to your mistress. We leave on the hour.”
Fallyn shuddered after Nessa departed in a bluster of smoke and light. “That woman turns my blood cold.”
Syrena absently stroked Nuie. “She does the same to me.”
“You did well. I wouldn’t have guessed,” Fallyn reassured her. “So, you can’t put your uncle off any longer?”
“No, to do so would be pure folly. We are a formidable opponent, but not if the three of them join forces against us as they appear ready to.”
Fallyn looked past her to the line of oaks swaying in the gentle breeze. “Broderick will be there?”
“Yes, I’m certain he will be. Is there anything you’d like me to say to him? I can deliver a missive if you’d rather.”
Fallyn’s gaze met hers, and Syrena noted the sadness in her eyes. “No, I’ve been here close to a year and he hasn’t cared enough to inquire into my well-being.”
“He’s a fool for letting you go without a fight. You’re an incredible woman, Fallyn, and if he’s too stupid to realize that, you’re well rid of him.”
“Thank you, you’re a good friend.” She gave Syrena a hug. “Good luck.”
“I think I’ll need more than luck unless you’d like to render my stepmother speechless for the duration of our visit.”
“Morgana.” Syrena nudged her stepmother toward the massive gilded doors leading into the chambers where her uncle and the Seelie court awaited them. “Stop stalling. We’re already late and I doubt the grand entrance you hope to make will have the desired effect. And please, could you at least try to be civil to the servants.”
Syrena smiled at the royal guardsmen, who bowed low as a measure of their respect.
Morgana whirled to face her, her ice blue robes swirling about her ankles. “Why should I? Princess Syrena this, Princess Syrena that, all of them bowing and scraping in your presence as if I, the Queen, were nothing more then your minion.”
Syrena suppressed a smile. “You’re exaggerating. They offered you the same courtesies they extended to me.”
Morgana narrowed her gaze, then tossing her glossy black mane, barked a command for the guards to announce them.
Syrena took a steadying breath and smoothed her hand over the creamy satin robes threaded with gold. Riana, Fallyn’s youngest sister, had outdone herself. By mutual agreement, the three women had taken over for Evangeline, and Syrena didn’t know how she would have managed without them. Determined to make sure Morgana would never learn just how limited Syrena’s magick truly was, they readily participated in the subterfuge. So much so, that her stepmother had begun to believe Syrena’s abilities were no less than anyone else’s.
Not that Morgana could use her lack of magick against her—not any longer. As far as the rest of the Fae from the Enchanted realm were concerned, Syrena was their true Queen. She knew she had Uscias and Nuie to thank for their acceptance.
Her dream of claiming a place in her people’s hearts had come to pass. But there was an emptiness inside her, a deep void she seemed unable to fill. She did her best to ignore the dull ache, putting it down to her inability to fulfill her father’s last wish—her quest, a quest that had been doomed from the very beginning. Lachlan, like his brother, wanted nothing to do with the Fae. She reasoned it was for the best. The last thing she wanted to do was hand over Nuie.
“Syrena,” her stepmother hissed, her silver bracelets clinking as she motioned for her to enter. Syrena knew Morgana only wanted her to go first in case of an assassination attempt. She would be the first to fall, and her stepmother would be able to make her escape.
Pausing beneath the intertwined branches of white ash trees, Syrena withdrew Nuie from the silken sheath strapped to her back. Her eyes adjusted to a hall awash in a crystal clear light. Sprites, with lanterns in hand, flitted from the branches that formed a high ceiling. Her uncle sat at the head of a marble table on an intricately carved throne of white ash.
A hush fell over the room, the only sound the gentle burble of water spurting from the iridescent blue fountains that fed the waterways lining the outer edges of the chambers. Pink and purple flowers floated peacefully on the turquoise waters. But the men and women surrounding the marble table looked anything but peaceful. They looked furious—with her.
Her uncle’s topaz eyes gleamed as brilliantly as the jewels on Nuie’s hilt. He rose from his throne, waving off the caustic muttering directed at Syrena. Two of the guards he motioned for hesitated before coming to her side, their expressions apprehensive.
“It has been a long time, my dear, and as you have never before graced us with your presence, I will not take offense that you have broken an ordinance by carrying your weapon within our hallowed hall. Please, give your sword to my men.”
“As if we would hand over our greatest treasure to you, Rohan.” Her stepmother’s voice was frosty enough to coat the branches in ice. Leaving Syrena to deal with their transgression, Morgana pushed past the guards to take her place at the far end of the table. The gilded legs of her chair scraped across the marble floor, punctuating the glacial silence.
“I’m sorry, Uncle, but Morgana does have a point. I’m afraid I must refuse your request. But you have my word I will not use my sword.” With that said, she sheathed Nuie.
Her uncle regarded her for a long moment. “You’ve changed, Syrena.” He bestowed a kiss on her cheek and waved off the Welsh King’s angry objection. While he led Syrena to a chair beside Morgana, he said, “Enough, Broderick, I trust my niece to keep her word. Besides, we have no time to waste.”
Fallyn’s betrothed slouched in his chair and eyed Syrena with unmitigated rage. His black gaze glittered like polished agate.
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