The Dark Queen (The Dark Queens Book 5) (20 page)

His fingers were so strong and warm when they found hers. And though she was breathing heavy and fighting the damned tears with all she was worth, she looked up at him, miserable to the very root of her soul.

“I’m not perfect, darkness. Not by a long shot.”

She swallowed hard. “You’re just saying that. Trying to make me feel better, it won’t—”

His lips twisted into a painful scowl. The first time she’d ever witnessed him looking anything other than calm, and the words died on her tongue. Instantly she wanted to ease his suffering, his pain. She squeezed his fingers back.

“Owiot?” she asked softly.

And when he swallowed thickly, she knew he fought his own tears. “Fable, I did not want to tell you this yet, but...I killed my wife.”

Fable

F
irst, she went cold, and then a strange buzzing filled her ears. Snatching her hand back from his, it wasn’t Owiot she stared at now, but George. George with his blond hair and blue eyes and wicked heart who promised her the world and stole her soul instead, crushing it to powder and turning her bitter.

Closing his eyes, he shook his head. “This is all wrong. I want to show you something.”

Her nostrils flared. Because though her brain told her over and over that this was Owiot, not George, her heart was a mangled ruined mess and the only thing she could focus on was the fact that he’d killed his wife. Just as George had.

Owiot snatched up her hand, brought it to his lips and kissed her knuckles tenderly. And though she still ached from his words, her body couldn’t help but respond, and that terrified her.

Terrified her that it was far too late for her to back out of this now, even knowing he was the devil come to snatch away what last little parts of her were still good.

“Trust me, darkness. Though you do not need to, I ask that you would. I ask you to have faith in me. Will you?”

And though it was the hardest thing she’d ever done in her life, she swallowed her pain and fears and simply said, “Yes.”

His lashes fluttered closed briefly, and then he flicked his wrist and instantly the beautiful world he’d created for her vanished. Disappeared like it had never been. He still gripped her hand as they floated through a canvas of impenetrable sky.

Tugging her tight into his body, he held her easily against his form. As though shielding her, hugging her, and she sighed from the contact of him along the length of her. He pointed over her shoulder and whispered in her ear, “Look at that star and see my sins for what they are, beautiful darkness, and then you can decide whether I’m worth saving or not.”

~*~

H
e was gone. And the world that had been nothing but void was gone too. Fable stood in a grassy plain full of rolling wheat and surrounded by majestic snow-capped mountains on all sides.

The sky was a beautiful lavender-orange, and the sun was barely a dot left in it.

And that was when she saw them.

Owiot and someone else, a stunningly beautiful woman with nut-brown hair that fell past her waist dressed in a beaded deerskin dress that stopped at her knees. Her lips were a pale shade of mauve and pink. Her facial structure was delicate and extremely feminine.

Not sharp and slashing like Fable’s own. Where Fable had a strong jaw line, this woman had a soft, heart-shaped one. Fable’s cheekbones were high; hers weren’t. Fable had a strong nose. This woman’s was small and rounded.

They were opposites in every way.

Painted beneath her eyes was a striking thick strip of turquoise blue that caused her warm brown eyes to look even deeper and more mysterious.

Walking beside her was Owiot, strong, gorgeous, and wearing a frown. The sadness in his eyes was striking and caused Fable to place a hand on her chest, curling it in tight.

She wanted to take that sadness from him. Wanted to hug him. To fix him.

“Aiyana, what are you saying?”

Her eyes flashed stormily back at him. And heavy black clouds began to gather overhead.

“I do not want you, Owiot. I never have. And I never will.”

“But you said that you lo—”

Rolling her eyes heavily, she crossed her arms over her chest and sneered. “Did you really think anyone could love you? You!” She laughed, and the sound of it was cruel and biting. “When I am with you, you make me want to slit my throat. Your touch sickens me. Your kisses make me want to retch. I could never be happy with you.”

Every word was like a dagger to his heart. Fable could see the pain written in his dark brown eyes. He stood before Aiyana, his wife, clenching and unclenching his fists and staring at her with desperation.

“Please, Aiyana, do not do this. You know what will happen to you if you choose this. It would kill me. I could not see harm come to you ever.”

“Ha!”

Rain began to pelt the land around them, bringing fist-sized hail chunks down with it. But neither of them flinched as they were pelted by it, both of them far too angry to focus on the pain.

“Anything would be better than being forced to lie with you another day.”

He blinked, looking stunned. “You don’t mean that. You would never have married me if—”

Her lip curled. “I did it only to spare my brother’s crops. His land is fertile now, thanks to my sacrifice. Let me go, Owiot.”

“Please. Don’t do this.” He closed his eyes.

And Fable was confused. Because she was expecting to see a raging madman, bent on forcing his wife to remain with him. But he was pleading, begging her to not to leave him. The way the rain fell looked like tears running down his cheeks.

But Aiyana was fiercely cold and disgusted, shaking her head and laughing. “You don’t have a choice, and you know it.”

“You cannot leave me. You know what will happen if you do. I won’t have a choice. You were a mortal; you would fade if you severed your soul from mine. I will never touch you again. Never come around you again, only do not choose this path. Please.”

She snorted. “Yes, you would. And you know it. You’ll come back like a scampering coyote, begging me to give you that family, those bastard children you’ve always wanted. But I am done. Through. My legacy to my family will be fertile land that is all I ever wanted. The only way to ensure I never have to see you again is to leave. And so I will. I have chosen, and there is nothing you can do to change my mind.”

Closing his eyes, he looked like a man shattered. Fable’s hands clenched, feeling the tight gathering of her dark magick crawl through her bones. Even knowing what she witnessed was nothing more than a memory of the past, she wanted to hurt Aiyana, kill her even. Destroy the woman bringing such misery to a good man like him.

“Is this truly want you want?” he asked softly, but his words echoed on the wind.

Hate burned through her eyes. “Yes. Untether our souls.”

He nodded and moved like he’d just aged a thousand lifetimes in the span of seconds he called forth a glowing ball of blue light.

Fable gasped, recognizing the draw of soul magic. The sphere was a mix of dark and light blues that glittered like sapphire ash in the sunlight. And she knew that the light blue was Owiot’s own.

Souls, like hearts, could be stained with darkness if the person was too full of sins. She knew because she’d seen hers before. Fable’s was a blue so deep as to be nearly black.

Owiot’s was pure and so lovely it brought tears to her eyes.

With each twist of the soul orb, Aiyana trembled, weakening before Fable’s eyes. But each time Owiot tried to stop, she would shake her head and force him to continue.

Until finally, with one last tiny tug, he pulled their souls apart.

There were no theatrical death throes from Aiyana. She simply gasped and dropped to the earth, dead before impact.

And where once there’d been a beautiful and nubile woman, the husk that lay on the ground was withered and ancient looking, almost nothing but flesh over bones.

But Owiot didn’t seem phased by it. With a great cry that rent the sky with lightning and thunder, he dropped to his knees, gathering the desiccated corpse to his chest and hugged her tight.

“I would have given you the world, Aiyana. Why was I never enough for you? Why?”

The broken shell of a voice coming out of the man broke something inside of Fable. No longer did she see him as too perfect and far beyond her reach, but as strangely human and in need of saving himself.

No one had ever wanted her to save them. Because that’s not what she did. Fable destroyed. But she didn’t want to destroy him, fast or no, magical or not...she didn’t know how this was happening, all she did know was that Owiot was the male created in all the cosmos just for her.

Not George.

Not Charles.

She hadn’t met her perfect match before and thus had been miserable. She’d forced the fates hands and had paid dearly for it. But lingering in the cosmos far away had been a male that would make Fable want to be more.

Be infinitely better than she’d been.

Owiot kissed Aiyana’s brow one final time, and as he did so, the body turned to dust, sifting through his hands like sand in an hourglass. But her ashes did not scatter as they should. Instead, godlight from within his own form poured down into what had once been Aiyana, transforming her one final time, into that of a perfect and beautiful white flower painted with thick bands of turquoise blue upon its perfectly shaped petal.

~*~

Owiot

W
hen the scene faded, and Fable stood before him, he waited on tenterhooks to hear what she’d say. Owiot had lost love once before and had survived it. He could survive this too, though he’d felt the type of instant connection and bond to Fable that only came around once in a lifetime.

He’d survive her leaving, but he knew he’d never be the same again.

She looked like an angel in spring when she finally turned toward him. The clothes she’d found in the temporary world they’d called their own for the day had vanished along with it. She was back to wearing what she’d been when the day had first begun.

Her hair was a wild halo of dark ebony flowing like a wave down her back. The wreath of wildflowers twined through the strands made her look youthful, almost fairy-like. In a word, she was stunning and stole his breath.

Without saying a word, she walked into his space, wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down for a kiss.

The kiss was as soft as a petal’s touch, but her words whispered through his veins like fire as she said, “take us home, Owiot.”

Fable

H
e returned them back to their castle. To the familiar environment, she’d come to know as her temporary home away from home. Rolling hills full of gorgeous conifers and majestic oaks. Sky still blazing that strange-hued orange and lavender color of perpetually encroaching night. Birds still trilling and singing their songs.

This place brought her peace, but so too did the man she still held hands with.

Owiot glanced down at her face, his eyes intense as though hoping to peer into her soul. She felt he was seconds away from leaving her again unless she stopped him first.

“Well, I suppose—”

Squeezing his fingers tight, she shook her head. “Walk with me. Please.”

Tiny smile lines kissed the corners of his eyes. “Where?”

No hesitation, no stuttering...the fact that he seemed just as keen as she was to remain in his presence was telling and made her feel weak with relief. She shrugged.

“Outside? Maybe.”

He nodded.

They’d yet to really explore the castle proper, but Fable was discovering that she rather enjoyed nature more than she’d expected to. A stone tower had been her home for so long, it was what she knew, where she’d always been most comfortable, but now the thought of going into that tower...alone, it made her anxious.

Owiot turned on his heel, taking her along with him, and walking them out the door. The moment they were back outside, she inhaled the rich scent of pine and damp earth deep into her lungs, feeling her soul settle within her.

They walked in companionable silence for several minutes before Owiot finally asked, “Tell me something about yourself, Fable. Something no one else knows.”

“What?” She grinned, feeling ridiculously giddy and carefree. “What something?”

But she wasn’t the only one feeling that sentiment; the same emotions were clearly scrawled across his handsome features as well.

“I don’t know. What’s your favorite color?”

She snorted. “Black. And that’s hardly a secret.”

He lifted a brow, studying her. “Black?”

“Yes. And? What’s the problem?” She sassed him. Enjoying their easy, silly conversation. “And please don’t tell me that white makes me look pure because I swear I’ll stab you with a rusted knife if you—”

Turning toward her, his large palms settled on her slim shoulders. Owiot towered over her. Not a position she was generally fond of, but with him, it made her feel somehow comforted and safe.

“You would look stunning in whatever you wore. But you’re a rare flower that should stand out, my darkness, not remain hidden in shadow.”

Oh my..
.

She trembled.

He’d called her,
my darkness
. She wondered if he knew the proprietary stance he’d just taken with her and then realized that he probably had because he’d been slipping those little endearments throughout most of their conversations all day.

Fact was, everything Owiot had done today had cemented one very important fact for her. She liked it. Like, liked him liked him. Like, possibly even felt the first tingles of love liked him.

And yes, she knew how stupid and foolish of her it was to give into these emotions yet again. But she’d been without love for so long, been so starved for it, that sadly any sort of attention to her personage that was positive would have probably ensured her eventual downfall.

It was a sad fact, but Fable had been beyond lonely. It really wouldn’t have taken much to make her drop her guard this way. Well, here anyway. In a land as far removed and distant from the Enchanted Forest as feasibly possible it was easy enough to do. Had she met Owiot in the Enchanted Forest she doubted she’d have given him more than a cursory glance, and certainly not a second of her time. There she wore her mask like a shield.