WingsOfDesire-AriannaSkye (39 page)

The woman threw back her head and laughed, stroking the whip in her hand. “I think you know. Now what was this about returning the stone? If you know what’s good for you, you’ll keep it.”

“Tynan,” Onora pleaded, rushing to his arms. “What has happened to you?” She peered up into his fern-green eyes and alarm raced through her. Tynan’s eyes were dark as a moonless sky.

“What have I done?”

The woman cackled loudly, the sound like vultures crowing in the sky. “Naivety serves its purpose does it not?”

Onora fell to her knees, burying her face in her hands. Sobs wracked her body.
What have I
done?
Tears streamed down her face onto the ground below.

“Stop crying! You sound pathetic.” Tynan threw back his head. “Oh, that’s right. You
are
pathetic.”

Onora wiped at the tears staining her cheeks, her body sinking further to the ground. “I thought you loved me.”

Korrigan kicked Onora’s side, sending her rolling over. Onora grabbed herself as pain

ripped through her—physical as well as emotional. Korrigan glared down at her, her boot planted on top of her stomach. “Only fools fall in love.”

“The only thing I loved was manipulating you,” Tynan said, with a sneer on his face.

Onora gazed up at him. Gone were the sweet smiles he used to give her. Gone were his beautiful green eyes. Gone was his heart—if he even had one to begin with. She had nothing left—nothing to live for. Love didn’t exist and she’d betrayed her kingdom. She took the stone she still clutched and hurled it at his feet.

“I may be naïve, but I’ll not be your tool anymore.” Korrigan cackled, picking up the stone at Tynan’s feet. “Perhaps not our tool, but definitely a fool.”

The sooner this woman ended her misery the better. “I would rather be a fool than evil, like you.”

“You’ve been around the princess too much. You’re starting to speak without thinking of the consequences.”

“She’ll make an amazing queen, and you’re nothing to me.” Korrigan growled and kicked Onora hard in the nose. Onora reeled back from the blow, the metallic taste and scent of blood overwhelming her.

“Not only are you naïve, you’re insane.” Tynan towered over her, his black eyes boring into her soul—if she had one left.

“I’ve served my purpose, have I not?” Onora struggled to right herself.

“Silence, fool” Korrigan drew her whip and let it crack through the air. The lash struck Onora’s shoulder, sending searing pain through her arm. Korrigan cracked the whip again, striking her other shoulder. Onora gasped and squinted back the pain.

“Where in the deities did you find this fool, Tynan?” She ground the heel of her boot into Onora’s hand who bit back the cry of pain as more tears threatened to spill over.

“You can quit with the heroic act.” Tynan threw back his head in a sinister laugh that caused her to cringe. “It’s a little too late now, don’t you think? After all, our armies are at this moment preparing for battle, and your precious princess is missing—again.” Onora’s head swam as pain washed through her body. “I’m no hero. I’m a fool, as you’re so apt to say. And I would rather die than continue to help your evil cause.”

“Very well, then,” Korrigan said, and threw the stone at Onora’s feet. “I would be happy to

oblige that request, but I believe you’ll better serve elsewhere.” She hooked her whip at her side and thrust out her palm. “Enjoy your eternal torture, in the Outer Realm.”
Oh, dear Gods.
She was doomed now. But it was a fitting punishment for a traitor. She lifted her head and stared at Korrigan, ready for her fate. When the bright light shot forth from Korrigan’s hand, Onora smiled, welcoming the punishment she deserved.

~*~*~

Radan Evenspring sat at his desk, head in his hands. Things were not going as expected.

Beltane was in three days and their princess was still missing. If he hadn’t retired his battle-wings, he would gladly fight. Instead, here he was with his head buried in politics and procedures. Then again, he did have a mind when it came to government.

A glowing light floating toward him caught his attention. He extended his hand, beckoning the message orb toward him. He gazed down at the orb and began reading the message.

“Great deities!” The orb went crashing to the floor, evaporating into a million flashes of light. Radan burst from his chair and fluttered his wings, preparing to take flight.

Without further thought, he snapped his fingers and headed toward the garden. If he knew anything, it was how much the meek maid loved the garden and its multitudes of herbs.

Radan materialized near the fountain. He flicked his wings and soared up in the air, scanning the area for a better view. Not one faerie roamed the gardens. Times were too dire. Great deities!

Where was Onora?

The plains, of course!

Radan wasted no time. He snapped his finger and let the mists envelop him. Willing the fog to lead him to the plains, he forced thoughts of Viviane to the back of his mind.

The fog faded around him, and he glanced around, taking in the view. Not a living soul, save for the butterflies and dragonflies flitting around, in sight. He took to the air and floated above the fields, inhaling the rich scent. The fields were empty, apart from the rows and rows of purple blossoms sprinkling the plains.

“Onora,” he called, listening to his voice echo in the distance.
Blast it, the girl isn’t here.
He turned back to the castle and caught a glimpse of a solitary basket below.

Radan moved in closer, recognizing it instantly. Onora never went anywhere without it. It

sat upside down on the ground, next to a patch of scorched earth.

His breath caught. “Dear Gods,” Radan muttered. He was too late. Onora was dead. He scoured the area, leaving no piece of plant untouched. A bright flash in the corner of his eye caught his attention, and he turned around. He gazed down to find a strange red stone glinting in the afternoon sun. Mesmerized by the unique oval shape and smoothness, he picked it up. Intense heat radiated from it, yet he wasn’t burned. 'Twas no ordinary stone, for sure. He scooped up Onora’s basket and placed the stone inside. Perhaps Ethelred the wizard would be able to discern it. He closed the basket’s lid and turned around.

“Thank you for finding me,” a drawling female voice whispered in his ear, and an icy shiver crept its way through his spine all the way to the tips of his wings. Radan’s gaze roved the area.

Shaking his head, he put the basket under his arm, snapped his fingers, and evaporated into the mists. All the while back to the castle, something prickled deep in the back of his mind.

~*~*~

Rhiannon sat straight on her horse with a tight grip on the reins. Cerne led his horse next to her and gave her a wide grin. “You’ve made me proud,
mo cridhe
.”

“And me as well.” Aine reined Maeve’s horse next to them.

Rhiannon blushed. “It was nothing. My parents insisted I join the equestrian club when I was in high school.”

“Nothing? You’re a natural with horses. I only wish your horse was here for you to ride.” Cerne took a deep breath. “He was to be a wedding gift.”

“I look forward to seeing him when we return to the castle. In the meantime, Bel’s mount is just fine.”

She took a sweeping gaze of the army lining up along the plain. At least a thousand men, winged as well as wingless, stood ready to defend their kingdom. “Wow! I’m impressed.”

“You doubted your people’s support?” Cerne arched a brow.

“Of course not! I just didn’t know there would be so many.” Aine balled her fists. “The Dark Faerie army is large. With the ogres and trolls on her side, you’ll need all the help you can get.”

Cerne turned to Aine. “Have you had any connection from your sister?”

Aine shook her head. “I’m sure she’ll make her presence known.” She gazed to the sky.

“I’m going to check on Maeve and Belenus’s whereabouts. I’ll return shortly.”

“Sounds good.” Rhiannon waved to Aine who led her horse toward the far edge of the plains. Rhiannon turned back to Cerne who gazed across the plains. “I’m happy they’ve accepted me as their commander.” Too bad she knew not a lick about faerie warfare.

Cerne smiled, pointing at a huge hulk of a man sitting tall on his horse. Even with the silver helmet covering his head, she’d recognize him anywhere. “Rowan can be very persuasive.”

“Thank the Gods for General Windstorm.” Rhiannon moved her horse closer to Cerne. She gazed up at him, taking in the lines of concern etched across his face. “What’s the matter?

“Beltane is in two days. Korrigan will stop at nothing to see us destroyed.”

“I’m ready to fight.” Rhiannon lifted her chin high. “Is there anything else you want to say to me before we fight?”

Cerne scratched his forehead, his eyes searching her soul. Thank the Gods! He was actually going to say it. He was going to finally say he loved her. She loved that look in his eyes and would remember it for an eternity.

“That dress is beautiful on you.”

For crying out loud! “Thanks a fucking lot!” What was so wrong with him telling her how he felt? She already knew, anyway. Damn, she wished she didn’t have the ability to read his thoughts. She’d accidentally honed in on them while they rode to the plains. “I’m going to join the army. When you can get your head out of your ass, I’ll be down there.” Using a quick spell Maeve gave her for protection, she kicked her horse into a gallop and raced across the plains. Why was she acting this way? She’d never acted like this with any of her boyfriends on Earth. Then again, they were human and none of them were Cerne.

She willed thoughts of Cerne’s inability to vocalize his feelings to the back of her mind.

Concentrating on the army before her, she marched regal and proud through the throngs of warriors. Scanning the crowds, her jaw dropped. Every last soldier kneeled with their head bowed as she passed.
A big ego boost? Hell, yeah!

“Princess Rhiannon.” General Windstorm took long, even strides as he approached. He lifted the visor of his helmet and saluted her. “It’s good to see you safe and now in our company.” He turned to his armies. “You may rise. The princess recognizes your allegiance.” Rhiannon turned back to the troops and did her best Queen Elizabeth II impersonation. The

soldiers seemed to buy it as they took their helmets and threw them up in the air, their cheerful shouts ringing out.

“Where is your consort-to-be?” Windstorm asked, leading Rhiannon up to the front of the lines.

“Watching the outer flank—over there.” She pointed out Cerne’s horse as it galloped across the plains. “I appreciate your faith in me. I know accepting this hasn’t been an easy task—for the both of us.”

“Anything to keep my Queen—and, of course, my Princess—happy.” Windstorm dismounted from his horse and removed his helmet, his long sandy blond hair framing his chiseled face. Kneeling in front of her, he spoke in a clear resonant voice, “I offer you my allegiance, my princess.”

Seeing this battle-hardened general kneeling before her in fealty left her speechless. If she wasn’t so in love with Cerne, Rowan Windstorm would’ve been a fine catch in the Greek, golden-Adonis sort of way. “I’m honored to have you as my general, Windstorm. I accept your allegiance.”

More cheers and shouts ensued. Rhiannon smiled, watching Windstorm rise. She turned back to him. “One small thing, General.”

“Anything you wish, Your Highness.”

“Well, since you know your troops so well, and I’ve never fought a battle in my life, I’d feel better if you led the armies.”

“But the Queen asked that you lead us,” Windstorm objected. “I would not dishonor our queen.”

Rhiannon shook her head and leaned over to pat his shoulder. “My mother will understand my decision. Would you dishonor your princess—your commander?”

“No, I wouldn’t.” He bowed before her. “I would be honored to lead the army.”

“Excellent decision, General.” She placed her hand at her forehead in a salute. “That’s how they salute on Earth,” Rhiannon said, noticing the blank stares.

“This is how it’s done on Fey,” the rich, lilting voice said from behind her. Cerne reined his horse next to her and raised his hand up toward General Windstorm.

“Thanks for the lesson on faerie etiquette, Lord Silverwing.” She turned back to the general.

“Would you care to introduce me to your officers?”

Glancing back and forth between Cerne and Rhiannon, Windstorm raised an eyebrow. “Is all well between you and your mate?”

“Everything is as it has been, since the night I was brought back to Fey.” She turned to glare at Cerne, whose face remained a mask of indifference. No matter how he tried to hide it, she could see the fury rolling from him.
Jiminy crickets! What is his problem?
“Shall we commence with the introductions?” Rhiannon nodded Cerne’s way and allowed Windstorm to lead her through the crowds.

~*~*~

I love you.
How hard was it to say those three blasted words? Cerne growled, watching Rhiannon practically throw herself at Rowan. What did he expect? He couldn’t even say he loved her. He sure as the underworld couldn’t say it here, in front of everyone. He was a man. He couldn’t show weakness now, not with Korrigan so close.

“I insist on riding along with you.”

Rhiannon nodded. “Protocol, I suppose?”

Protocol his arse. “Yes,
mo cridhe
.” He led his horse next to her, took her hand in his and lifted her wrist to his lips. Gazing at her, he traced his tongue along the beat of her pulse. Ahh, yes. She still desired him.

Windstorm raised an eyebrow. “So where are your bosom friends, Maeve and Belenus Windsong?”

“Patrolling the skies.” Cerne turned to Rhiannon. “The princess has discovered a most valuable ally.”

Windstorm scratched his bearded chin and arched a brow. “Sounds intriguing, Your Highness. Do tell.”

Rhiannon took a deep breath. “It seems that Korrigan is quite—umm—whip-happy and enjoys torturing her subjects.”

“I’ve heard stories. I’ve also seen some of the correspondences from Sionnach Silverwing.” Rowan cut himself off and bowed to Cerne. “I apologize, my lord. I realize he’s your brother.”