Night Vision (42 page)

“You signed your final death warrant when you fucked with me, lover boy.” A glow began to surround her and she raised her hands, the flicker of flame springing to life.

The vampires, including Leo, stopped in their tracks. Geoffrey shifted, pulling me back away from the group. And then Leo jumped toward her, meeting her outstretched hand. The flicker of flame became a blazing jet, and the fire struck Leo straight in the face. As the other vamps swarmed around him, taking on the guards, Leo began to burn, bright and hot, and his screams filled the cavern. Rhia had gotten to him before Chatter or I could.

Geoffrey took that moment to drag me away, all the while whispering, “Since I have you, I might as well use you.”

I knew what he meant. I knew what he wanted, and I wasn’t about to allow it. He couldn’t keep his fangs poised on me now that we were in motion, and I took advantage to struggle against his hold. And then an idea hit me. He wouldn’t be expecting it at all. I began to shift.

The transformation was uneven, but I had been right. Startled, Geoffrey let go of me in order to get a better grasp, still not comprehending what was going on. At that moment, I pushed the transformation, hurrying it as fast as I could, and the next second, swooped up toward the high ceiling of the chamber, out of his reach. He thundered, and the next thing I knew, he had changed into a bat and was headed my way.

I swept toward him. In bat form, I had no clue if he was
as impervious to damage as he was when he was a vampire, but we were going to find out. As I barreled toward him, talons first as if I were picking a rat off the snow, Geoffrey veered, circling out of the way. But he must have been off his game, because I turned on the wing, a sharp turn, and cut him off. I clipped him a hard one, talons nicking his wing, and—disrupted—he plummeted to the ground, shifting as he fell. I knew I couldn’t damage him while I was still in owl form, so I retreated to a safe distance to transform back into myself.

As I landed, shifting, everything seemed like it was on fast-forward. The vampires and Fae were fighting so quickly, moving so fast, it was a blur of motion, and there was nothing I could do. I couldn’t even tell who was winning.

Leo was burning as Rhiannon pelted him with yet more fire. She seemed to source it out of an endless well of anger and fury. He crisped as ashes flaked off him. And yet she went on, a flamethrower on legs. A moment later, with a last shriek, he turned to dust, and the flames fell silent.

Meanwhile, Geoffrey tangled with Grieve. They were rolling on the floor, and Grieve had a huge wooden stake in his hand. Geoffrey slashed at Grieve and the stake went flying. My love was pouring blood from where the vampire had raked him.

Before I could move, Peyton dove into the fray, somersaulting over the both of them to roll and come up with the stake in hand. Grieve pulled back, and she landed, hard, on Geoffrey, impaling him through the heart. A hushed pause in the cacophony and Geoffrey turned to dust, scattering to the floor.

A few moments later and all the vampires were dead, along with ten of our guards. I pressed my lips together. It was over. We had won, at a cost. Wearily, we all slumped on the floor, staring at one another. Another moment saw Lannan and his men enter the cavern. As I looked at him, I realized there was no turning back. Life would never be the same.

It was time to go home to my icy realm.

The aftermath of battle is never easy. I could talk about how we made our way back to the Barrows…how we burned our dead on the sacred pyres…how, shell-shocked and tired, we were too weary to even speak. But I won’t. It’s impossibly dreary, and sad, and the cleanup after war isn’t much fun to reminisce over. Lannan and I said very little to each other, and Grieve avoided him, too.

But two days later, sitting in my chamber in the Eldburry Barrow, I began to feel halfway normal again. My leg was healing up—the scabs were starting to flake already, a by-product of drinking vampire blood and being the Winter Queen—and I had slept for hours upon hours.

Now, with the immediate crisis over, and Myst still in hiding, my new life was staring me in the face. I imagined Rhiannon was feeling the same way. I missed her being near. Missed Peyton and Luna, who were staying at the Veil House, with plenty of guards patrolling the borders.

Grieve entered the room as I slid from beneath the covers, yawning and stretching. He glanced at my legs, then at my thighs where the bruises were fading. After a moment,
he motioned for Druise to leave the room and crossed over to sit next to me.

Silent, I brought my knees up, wrapping my arms around them, careful not to jar the flaking skin on my shins. I waited.

“I told you, not long ago, that I realized that someday you might end up bedding the vampire, and that I would accept it if necessary. When I saw you bleeding…the blood—there was so much blood coming so fast that I knew the only way to save you was to let you go into his arms.”

I pressed my lips together, nodding.

“And once you drank his blood, I knew the Blood Fever would catch you up.” He paused. “I don’t care what happened between you. I see the bruises on your thighs, but I hear a new respect in your voice for Altos, so I can only pray that he didn’t put you through hell.”

I stared at my feet. Lannan had been rough, but I had needed it rough—hard and wild and feral and without any prettiness attached to it. That was who Lannan was, and that was the part of me who used to be Cherish coming through.

“He gave me what only he could give that night. What I would never want from you, because it’s
not who you are
. What he gave me wasn’t love, Grieve. It was raw release. It was…freedom. But the trouble with freedom? There isn’t much to lose if you don’t have anything—or anyone—to protect.” I glanced at him then, and he opened his arms and I slid into them.

His lips sought mine, and then we were on the bed, and he was running his hands over my body, kissing me deep. The passion between us flared, not sweet, not romantic, but sensuous and dark and deeper than any connection I had ever known. Grieve was my heart-mate; Grieve was my prince. Flawed, the Wounded King, and yet he was my everything.

I pulled him to me, opened my legs, invited him into the depths of my body, and we moved in unison, with him riding
me hard, insistent. He reclaimed me, laid his mark on me, and in turn I covered his face with kisses, drank deep from his well, reveled in his cock that drove ever deeper into my cunt. We were a fit, we were, and our bodies knew it as well as our souls.

As we renewed our bond, my thoughts quieted themselves, and for the first time in days, I felt at home.

The court was gorgeous, lit with the Ice Elemental lanterns, a swath of indigo and silver curtains and drapes lining the wall. And, to honor Rhiannon and Chatter—panels of green and gold. The entire court of the Marburry Barrow had crowded in to join us in celebrating our double wedding, since the Court of Snow and Ice had a much bigger throne room. The Wilding Fae were also here, and everyone was decked out in colorful costumes that marked their connection to the realms of Summer and Winter.

I stood in my chamber, along with Rhiannon, as our lady’s maids dressed us. Our wedding gowns had come in on time and fit perfectly.

As Druise slid the sheath over my head, the wash of pale gray chiffon and lace floated down to my ankles. I was wearing a silver corset beneath it, form-fitting and snug. The brilliant splash of the royal blue straps set off the gown perfectly, and the matching sash fit snugly around my waist. As Druise fastened the train to my dress, then helped ease my circlet with the veil attached onto my head, the change in my eye color still struck me. I no longer just lived in the frost-ridden land, I was part of it.

I turned to Rhiannon, a vision in gold and green, and held out my hands. “Amber and jet.”

“Fire and ice.” We stood for a moment, no more words necessary. We had come through hell for this moment, and now we were here. Somehow, this seemed to cement matters more than even our initiations.

“I just wish Lainule could be here.” I stared around the
room. This was my home. This was my life from now on. What a long and twisted route it had been since my mother first swept me away from the Veil House.

“I wish my mother could be here,” Rhia said softly. “I suppose this means…we’ve grown up. We’re on our own now.”

There was no more to say, which was probably good, because at that moment, Peyton and Luna entered the room. Peyton was dressed in royal blue, Luna in rich summer green. They looked at us, both smiling for a change, though the past weeks had worn thin on all of us.

Check and several of the guards were outside the door to escort us down in their dress uniforms. We moved silently, solemnly, through the crowded halls of revelers who could not fit in the throne room but wanted a vision of the Queens of Winter and Summer as we passed by.

The crowd was held back by guards, and as we glided through the halls, they moved in a collective bow-and-curtsey. As we waved to them, I felt odd, not at all excited like I imagined I would if I ever got married. I’d always pictured a small wedding, maybe by a brook, or the side of the ocean…not all this pageantry and pomp. But it was what it was, and I was marrying Grieve, and Rhia would marry Chatter, and we would serve our people as best as we could.

We entered the throne room, and near my throne, the Elder Shamans from both of our realms waited, side by side. Grieve was to the left, Chatter to the right, and the looks on their faces washed away the melancholy feel that had crept over me. They were there, waiting for us, ready to spend their lives with us.

Grieve, magnificent in his black tunic and pants, with a long silver cape flowing behind him and platinum hair that fell softly, loosely around his shoulders, kept his gaze on me as I processed down the aisle, the starry night of his eyes shining. And Chatter, in gold and brown, watched Rhia with the same devotion.

We approached the altar and the Shamans began the ceremony, which lasted late into the night, the exchanging of promises to guard and to love winding their way through the midnight hours. As befitting the Fae, there were no promises of sexual fidelity—but of heart-connection and honor and respect and duty.

In the crowd, Kaylin and Ysandra sat, watching, and Lannan and Regina were there, representing the Vampire Nation. The Consortium had not gotten back to us, yet, and I was ready to write them off if they weren’t going to do any better than they had when we’d gone to them for help.

I made my vows—to honor, to love, to respect, to cherish—quietly, simply, and with all my heart. At one point, I glanced to the side. Lannan was staring at me, his face a blank mask, and I could not read what he was feeling, but it didn’t matter. I turned back to my future as Grieve took his place as my husband. After the vows were sealed, Grieve and Chatter were crowned as Kings of the Realms, and then it was done, and we were married, and the party began.

Late, late into the night, I slipped from the revelries and wandered outside. The moon was high, it was clear and icy, and the snow-covered land sparkled with frost and brilliance. A cold fire spread through my heart. This…this was all mine to command, and yet I felt so insignificant.