She turned and walked to her Throne, sitting slowly upon it, enjoying the moment. She sighed with pleasure. “Their forces have been all but defeated,” she said. “The Endari have won their first battle, and the Throne of Plagues stands strong—it is a good day. And all because of you, Ionikus Reaves, my Thunder Lord.”
She smiled at me, but I couldn’t help but refuse the same courtesy.
“And now that the Chancellor is gone, all of Sol is now mine,” she continued. “I’ve got my Throne, won my battle, and taken my city. I am Illindria, Supreme Empress of the Endari, Changer of Seasons, Queen of Plagues...and now, the Empress of Sol.”
Her words crept into every fold of my soul and mind. I let go of Mearic’s mouth and gripped his hand tight. I looked into his eyes, his sad, sad eyes. The first step of my plan was complete, and although it had cost Mearic a father, I had kept him safe and that was all that truly mattered. Another hand slipped into the one unoccupied, and there was Thornikus.
What is next? I asked him.
He looked to Illindria, watching as she rubbed the branches of her Throne with a twisted sort of love. We watch as the gods of this world feel what we’ve felt from the beginning.
CHAPTER THIRTY
THE HAND OF THE MOON
By the time I had reached Illyria with Oceanus hovering in tow, I was sweating with exhaustion.
I had kept her under my control the duration of the flight, and when finally my feet met with the stone platform before the white sands of the Silken Vale, I collapsed to my hands and knees. I closed my eyes and felt my mind leave hers like a swarm of leeches leaving its host.
“How...how dare you!” she spat first, though I was too tired to even look back at her.
I heard her knees drag across the stone floor as she stumbled to her feet.
“You would not understand,” I replied, taking deep breaths.
“You’re...you’re wrong, elf,” she growled, slowly walking around me.
She kneeled to me and propped my chin up under her thumb. Her eyes were bloodshot. Her teeth were bared. “She was right about you,” she said, disgust upon her face.
“And who might that be?” I growled.
A voice broke over us, old and gravelly. And at once the who became clear. “Guardians?” called Lady Borea, appearing behind Oceanus.
The Sea Guardian rose and turned to the old crone in all her wrinkly glory. “Lady Borea,” she said, voice disquieted, “I demand this elf be taken into custody!”
I stared at Oceanus, aghast as I rose to my feet as well. “Oceanus, you have no such authority for that. I am a goddess of Illyria now, much higher than any military position you can be granted.”
“You shut your mouth, traitor!” she snapped back at me. “You just lost us one of the most important battles in Illyria’s history!” She turned around to Borea. “She let Ion go, let the Throne stand. She was planning it all along!”
Othum and the other Illyrians soon appeared at Borea’s side, their faces heavy with concern as they walked down the Silken Vale toward the scene. “We saw it all from the Hall of Thrones,” said Othum, disappointment in his eyes and voice as he looked at me.
“It seems we have yet another traitor in our midst,” said Onyxia with a swirl of the mead in her goblet. “How many is that now? Twenty-three?”
A part of me wanted to respond. To strike down their assessments of me and my decisions. But I saw my future in their eyes now. There was no way to rewrite what I had done, though I would have done it over and over again if given the choice.
“Now, my fellow Illyrians,” said Borea, approaching me with pleasant eyes. “We all know how strange our minds can get when war looms overhead. Perhaps Lady Lillian has a perfectly elvish explanation for forfeiting this very important battle.”
“She doesn’t!” snapped Oceanus. “She just—”
“No,” said Borea briskly, hooking her arm into mine. Is this part of your plan too? “Lady Lillian...please tell us why you did what you did.”
I opened my mouth to speak, but I felt Lady Borea drop her hand into a pocket of my tunic. “Why...what’s this?” she asked, her face suddenly concerned.
She pulled out her hand and in its grasp was a vial of black fluid.
“I-I have no idea what that is,” I replied, confused more than ever.
She uncorked the top to the vial and with one sniff of what sat inside, she tore away from me at once.
“Guards!” she cried. “Seize her! Seize her now! It’s...it’s the poison! The poison that killed Lady Helia! To the dungeons with this elf!”
About the Author
Nikolas Lee was born in Evansville, Indiana, moved with his family to Las Vegas, Nevada, when he was eleven, moved back to Indiana when he was fourteen, then moved back to Las Vegas when he was sixteen. No, neither he, nor his family are under the witness protection program. Though that would be much cooler than the real reason.
He is the first author to write a middle grade fantasy series featuring an LGBT main character, and is currently hard at work on the fourth installment in the set.
Other Books by Nikolas Lee
Nikolas Lee, The Iron-Jawed Boy and the Siege of Sol
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