Son of Sun (Forgotten Gods (Book 2)) (33 page)

Like a sapling in the wind, Daoine wavered on her feet, threatening to fall down.

Strangely enough, even though she was surrounded by her subjects, not a single one came to her aid. They were all too dumbstruck to move. Even Finvanna was standing, staring blankly at his wife, clearly unable to comprehend that she might be dying.

She began to fall, and I immediately moved to catch her. As I lounged forward, I had to release my wound to cradle her in my arms.

It seemed superficial enough, but when I released the pressure I had held on the wound it erupted like a volcano on my arm.

Nothing could have prepared me for what rained down on the arena floor.

Sparks of fire, flowing like lava from the wound, trickled down my arm, dripping onto the dirt where it actually began to travel along the ground like a gunpowder fuse instead of pooling as blood should. Higher and hotter it flared to life on the moist ground, burning where nothing should. Intent on its target.

Daoine revived in my arms, just enough to raise her head as we watched the flames track toward Ara with dogged determination. We both watched as the flames morphed into a familiar scene. A scene we had both watched before.

I had birthed the flames, yet wielded no control over their path. I didn’t even know what was happening. For some reason, my blood was turning to fire, and chasing after the one who had spilled it, defending me in a way only fire could.

Goose bumps prickled along my skin, and a tingling sensation took over my arm as the wound healed itself, leaving nothing but an angry red mark.

I was speechless, watching the fire that flowed from my body attack Ara. Normally, this would have scared me out of my senses. But it didn’t. Something deep inside me, something near the place that was so satisfied when I tasted fire, released. Unwinding and filling my body with a relaxed longing as I watched the fire in a dreamlike way. It was part of me. It was a living, breathing part of me. And what was more...it was defending me like my own personal army.

The sword in Ara’s hand caught my eye when tiny flames ignited against its steel surface. The drops of my blood shed on her blade when she sliced into my arm were coming to life and racing up the sword toward her hand.

She shrieked and dropped it, eyes wide as melons as she stared disbelievingly at the flaming blade.

When the trail of spilled blood met the blade where it rested in the dirt it ignited with a thunderous explosion, sending sparks of fire up the length of Ara. The hem of her dress began to catch fire and she ran around in a circle swatting at it and trying to put it out. It was no use. As the flame climbed higher, she stopped her wild running.

With a bewildered expression on my face, I turned to Daoine, who lay helplessly in my arms. Never, had I ever seen this look on Ara’s face. She was always so confident, so poised.

“Put your sister out, Dayne,” Daoine whispered weakly.

Without another word he rose and went to Ara, sweeping her feet out from under her and rolling her around in the dirt to extinguish the flames.

Daoine wheezed in my arms, her face fading from ashen to white. She looked more dead than alive at that moment, and if it weren’t for the shallow breaths that lifted her chest I would’ve thought she was already gone.

I leaned into her, clasping a hand over her heart to find its rhythm and lowered my lips to hers.

“No.” She put a feeble hand over my mouth to stop me.

“What then? You cannot leave your world in such chaos.” I took her hand in mine, pulling it from my lips.

I didn’t know what had happened between us. Was it the vision or something else? Whatever it was, things had definitely changed. Like she had finally let go of something she had been fighting for way too long, and in letting go of whatever it was, she had been freed.

“The future simply is.” She repeated her words from earlier. “No matter how much I tried to change it or keep you apart. This is now your destiny.” She coughed and her body went limp.

“Daoine!” I screamed, shaking her frail shoulders. The crowd collectively gasped again.

She took one great inhale and opened her eyes wide, finding mine and lifting her head toward mine.

“Dying is the easy part.” With her final words, she closed her eyes, and fell limply against me.

I started to shake her, but stopped when the color immediately returned to her cheeks. Her face blossomed in my arms, morphing from old and grey to beautiful and lustrous. A reverse aging process that stripped the years away and made her radiant and youthful, again.

As I held her, she went from an ashen old hag to a beautiful young maid, bright and pert as myself. She lingered there for a few seconds. Then, with a great flash of soft light, she vanished in my arms, leaving nothing but her locket resting in my lap and her crown laying on the arena floor.

I gasped. A sound mimicked by the entire crowd.

The locket felt as delicate as life itself looping between my fingers.

Golden scroll work wound its way in a familiar pattern as it circled a fat wishing pearl in the center. Back home, I had one in silver. One I had worn most of my life without a second thought. But this locket held much power. This locket ruled LisTirna, and the Sidhe.

Slowly, I stood, my eyes never leaving the locket, its chain draping through my fingers as I held it out. Certain I wasn’t the first who had marveled at its power.

I turned to Dayne, whose presence I had felt return to my side after extinguishing Ara. My eyes drifted up to his for an answer, only to find them wide with astonishment, clearly unable to process what was going on.

The whisking sounds of movement stirred in unison from the crowd, but they were not vocal sounds of joy or pain. It was the silent sound of a crowd moving reverently as one. And a great rush of wind blew the hair from my face.

I raised my gaze to an astonishing site. One that sent chills racing over the length of me. One that stopped the breath in my chest. One that I will never forget through all the ages that lay in my future.

A ripple effect circled the stadium as every Sidhe fell to their knees, heads bowed, hand to their heart, in total submission and devotion.

“Dayne…” my voice was weak and trembling as my heart picked up speed in my chest.

Spinning around, utterly bewildered to see every face turned down, every knee bent—even Ara and Finvanna—I finally met Dayne’s warm emerald eyes again.

“What’s going on?” I asked, shaking my head wildly and offering his birthright in an outstretched hand.

With an awed expression scrawled deeply into the lines of his bloodied, yet indestructibly handsome, face, he took my trembling hand in his. Slowly, he curled my fingers around the locket and pushed my clasped fist over my heart.

In that moment, I knew the future Daoine had feared since I appeared in her world, but had been helpless to stop.

“My Queen,” Dayne whispered and fell to his knees in complete surrender.