The Shadow Queen

  Heat that had nothing to do with his dragon’s fire filled him, pressing against his chest like he’d swallowed the sun, and he couldn’t breathe without taking in her scent. Without hearing the tiny gasp she made as he deepened the kiss and pulled her closer.

  Something brushed against his shoulder, and for a moment, he thought it was her hand. But then something bumped against him. Hard. He stumbled forward, grabbing Lorelai’s arms to keep them on their feet, and turned to see that the Hinderlinde Forest had come to life.

  Oh skies, we’ve got trouble.

  The trees—hundreds of them, dripping moss and shedding leaves—were sliding toward them, their roots ripping through the soil and splaying out like tentacles. A horrible cracking sound filled the air as branches slammed against each other and trunks collided. They moved with a steady, relentless cadence that filled Kol with horror and sent his dragon heart thundering.

  A walnut tree beside Lorelai raised its branches toward the sky and then slammed them down toward the princess’s head.

  Down! he yelled, but she’d already dropped to the ground and rolled away from the tree.

  Away from him.

  He lunged toward her and a branch smashed the ground where he’d been standing.

  It’s the same thing every time. You’d think she’d realize that taking control of so many hearts at once makes the cost of her magic that much worse. Lorelai sounded disgusted.

  Yes, she displays a true lack of originality. Maybe we can discuss that further when we aren’t in danger of being crushed by walking trees.

  They’re moving slow. We can outrun them. She flipped to the side as a maple bent toward her, its branches swinging hard.

  They’re closing in and forming a fence around us.

  Good thing we have dragon’s fire and mardushka magic, then. She grabbed his hand and pulled him away from a skinny hickory that was wrapping its branches around his waist. Magic tingled against his skin and then slid into his blood with a jolt.

  They ran, stumbling over roots that lashed the ground, ducking branches, and trying to find a path that wasn’t already blocked.

  We’re surrounded. Power filled her voice, and her eyes were fierce as she looked at him. And we aren’t going to lead them back to Gabril and the shack. It’s me she wants.

  She isn’t going to get you.

  No, she isn’t.

  An oak swiped at her, and Kol pulled her against him. The branch slid by, scratching Kol’s hands as it passed. The sound of roots tearing through soil, trunks creaking, and branches whistling through the air filled the forest as the trees shuffled closer and closer to Lorelai and Kol.

  Sasha, path! Lorelai sent as she tightened her grip on his hand and muttered an incantor.

  Fire spilled out of his veins and into hers, and her pain hit him a second later. Blistering agony, pressure that wrapped around her chest and threatened to cut off her air, and a shuddering weakness that tried to send her to her knees.

  He wrapped his free arm around her waist and hauled her out of the path of an incoming maple. Branches lashed around them from behind and yanked them against a trunk. Roots tangled with this feet. His dragon heart pounded viciously, and he snarled as he struck out at the branches that were touching Lorelai.

  Seconds later, the gyrfalcon shrieked from above, and Lorelai, her breath coming in desperate pants, said Path, Sasha. Find the river to the west.

  An oak lumbered close, striking at Lorelai with a thick branch covered in dying leaves. Kol tried to block it, but the branches wrapped around his chest shortened his reach. Lorelai threw herself against him, and the branch slammed into the tree that was holding them instead.

  Sasha reappeared above them as the branches holding them began to squeeze the air out of Kol’s lungs.

  I’ve got the path. Time to burn our way out of here.

  He bared his teeth as his dragon heart pounded a litany of hurt, punish, kill and poured fire into Lorelai through her magic. She made an awful sound of pain, but raised her free hand and grabbed the branches that were wrapped around them.

  “Kaz`lit,” she yelled, and fire blazed out of her hand and into the heart of the tree.

  It shivered and creaked, smoke rising from its bark, and then it exploded into slivers edged with gold-tipped fire so blindingly white it hurt to look at.

  Let’s get to the river where the trees can’t follow us, she said, but the pain from his fire was eating at her, and she could barely walk. Follow the path Sasha sent to me. Can you see it?

  He saw it in her thoughts—a sprint southwest for more distance than he cared to consider given their current circumstances. He scooped her into his arms and began running west, twisting away from branches that came at him like clubs, and pausing briefly when their path was blocked so that she could incinerate the tree in front of them.

  He was out of breath, his body scratched and beaten from branches he’d failed to avoid, when he heard a roar in the distance.

  That’s the river. Her voice was faint, her teeth clenched against the pain. I hope you can swim.

  Almost as well as I can fly. Don’t worry. I’ve got you.

  I’m not worried. She slammed her hand against a branch that struck him in the side, and the tree exploded into flaming cinders with a terrible crack that was nearly drowned out by the roar of the river.

  Good. No worrying. However . . . that sounds awfully loud for a river.

  That’s because it’s a waterfall. She shivered, and the bare skin of her arms against his felt unnaturally hot.

  You need to let go of the fire, Lorelai.

  Not until we’re safe.

  I’ll get us to safety. I promise. He crested a steep slope that was nothing but stubbles of grass and clumps of dying underbrush. Behind him, an entire army of trees shuffled faster, roots lashing like whips as they came. Throwing himself on his back, Lorelai cradled against his chest, he slid toward the jagged edge of the slope.

  We’re safe from the trees. Let go of the fire. Please, Lorelai. You don’t need the pain any longer.

  She released the fire and it pooled in his chest, its familiar warmth comforting.

  Underbrush sliced into him, and the soil scraped his back raw as he slid. He braced himself, hit the rocks that lined the bottom of the slope, and scrambled to his feet, pulling Lorelai up with him. Above them, trees began shuffling down the hillside. Below them—he peered over the rocks and swallowed hard—below them a waterfall burst out of the solid rock that made up the hillside and tumbled into the river below.

  Skies, he hoped there weren’t rocks at the bottom of the drop because they had no other options. The trees behind them were gaining speed, and the quiet shush-shush sound of their roots digging into the ground, pulling them forward, and then ripping free again set his teeth on edge.

  It should be fine, she said, though her voice still sounded weak from the pain of controlling his dragon’s fire. My magic will reach the heart of the river. Hopefully it will respond to me.

  Even if it doesn’t, you’ll be okay. I’ve got you. And, skies above, please let him be able to keep that promise. Ready?

  She met his gaze. Ready.

  He grabbed her hand and together they jumped.

  UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

  HarperCollins Publishers

  ..................................................................

  THIRTY-FOUR

  IRINA STOOD ON her balcony, her hands gripping the gold box containing Kol’s heart while the capital shimmered before her in the pale moonlight. Below her, spread across the grass outside the dungeon’s entrance, were the remains of today’s failed attempt to take the years from someone else’s heart and give them to her own. The pile of bodies contained peasants from the south, gentry from the capital, a merchant from Súndraille who’d failed to pay his import tax, and even a member of the nobility from the western kingdom of Akram, who hadn’t technically broken any laws but who had been necessary to prove Irina’s theory
before she dared to put the Eldrian boy’s heart inside her chest.

  Every time she tried taking the essence of a foreign heart, her body reacted as though she’d ingested poison. She’d come to believe that her magic, born and bred on Morcant soil with Morcantian blood running through her veins, would not accept the heart of anyone who did not also have Morcantian blood.

  Every spell she used to fight Lorelai weakened her. Every failure to stop the princess’s onslaught sent bands of pain around her chest until the very act of breathing was torture. She needed to repair her heart, and there were no prisoners from Morcant in her dungeon. For all she knew, beside Lorelai, there were no other Morcantians within Ravenspire’s borders.

  Except one.

  She had yet to decide if she could bear to sacrifice that one, even to keep the life she deserved.

  The door to her sitting room clicked open, and Viktor’s familiar steps moved across her floor. She turned to find him standing behind her holding a tray with soup and bread, his expression gentle.

  “It’s been a hard week for you,” he said as he set the tray on a side table, beckoned her inside the room, and closed the balcony door behind her. His gaze fell on the gold box clutched in her hand, and slowly the gentleness in his face hardened into something like pain. “What are you doing with that?”

  She looked at the box. “I need a new heart.”

  He frowned. “The boy will come through for you. He’ll bring you Lorelai’s heart, and this will all be—”

  “He won’t. He defies me. He’s with the princess now, allied with her while she uses her magic to combat mine.” She looked at Viktor and for once let him see the fear that ate at her night and day. “Lorelai is stronger than me. She’s coming back to finish what she started.” Her eyes stung. “I’m going to die, Viktor. Either because Lorelai will kill me, or because my own heart will give out.”

  As if to prove her point, her heart gave a sudden leap and pain spread along her collarbone to reside in her jaw. She set the box down with a sharp click and clutched at her chest. Viktor was at her side in seconds.

  “Sit.” He half dragged, half carried her into the nearest chair and kept his arms wrapped around her. His voice was heavy with worry. “You can get better. I know you can. Just stop doing magic for a while. Let yourself regain your strength—”

  “I won’t regain my strength.” She caught his hand in hers and held it as her magic tingled in her palm, waiting to exert itself over his willing heart. “Not without help.”

  “I’ll help you.” He crouched beside her, his blue eyes earnest.

  “I know a spell that will take the remaining years from another’s heart and give them to mine. I’ve tried it over and over again on our prisoners, but it just makes me weaker. My magic refuses to accept a heart from Ravenspire.”

  “Maybe it isn’t where they’re born. Maybe you need nobility—”

  “I’ve tried. Ravenspire nobility. Akram nobility. Gentry from my kingdom and others.” She picked up the gold box again and cradled it as the boy’s heart thumped steadily inside. “The only hearts I haven’t tried are those from Eldr or Morcant.”

  She kept her eyes on the box as she waited for Viktor to understand what she already knew.

  Viktor took her hands in his, box and all. “It’s one thing to punish your prisoners. It’s another to take more from the king of Eldr than he’s promised you.”

  She tightened her hold on the box and met his gaze. “I told you. I’m dying.”

  “Then walk away from this.” His eyes begged her to listen. “We’ll go to Súndraille. I hear there’s a fae in exile there who can perform miracles for the right price. We could get your heart cured and buy a ship. Sail the seas and find an island—”

  “I’m not leaving.” She pulled her hands from his and raised the box so that it glittered in the candles that lit her room. “I’ve fought too hard for this. Ravenspire is my kingdom, and I will not give it up. I’m going to try replenishing my heart with the Eldrian’s,” she said, and half believed it was true. She could try. Maybe this time it would work.

  Or maybe Viktor, always dependable Viktor, would come up with a different solution so that she didn’t have to suggest it—didn’t have to even truly consider it—herself.

  He held her gaze for a long moment, a myriad of emotions crossing his face, and then he said with quiet force, “No.”

  She stared at him. “What did you say to me?”

  She’d expected agreement or a logical suggestion that would solve everything. Not resistance. Not from him.

  He clenched his jaw, and his eyes seemed to be begging her for something. “I said no, Irina. You cannot ruin that boy’s life any more than you already have. And if his heart proves as poisonous to yours as all the rest, you could die.”

  “I will do as I please. And when I’m finished, you and I will have a discussion about your proper place—”

  “We will have that discussion now.” Something wild entered his eyes. “In fact, we will discuss everything we’ve been leaving unspoken for years. Starting with the fact that you never loved King Arlen, that you might love me, and that even though I desperately want you to be safe and happy, I can’t go along with this plan of yours.”

  “Not now, Viktor.” She pushed a hand against his chest, but he refused to give ground.

  “Yes, now.” He ignored the icy glare she sent his way and leaned forward until she was pressed between his chest and the back of the chair. “I’ve devoted my entire life to you. I’ve given you my time, my energy, and my heart.”

  “I didn’t ask for your heart.”

  “No, but you took it anyway. You take, Irina, from the land, from the people, from me. And because I understand why, I’ve held my tongue. I’ve swallowed my words and my pride, knowing it was the price I had to pay to stay by your side. I understand you.” His voice gentled, and the pain inside it ripped at something Irina refused to let him see. “Unloved by those who were supposed to love you most. Passed over for the marriage and the throne that should’ve been yours. And then, when you did marry Arlen, he’d barely look at you, his children wouldn’t trust you, and the gentry treated you like an interloper instead of like their queen. The wounds run deep—”

  “I’m not wounded.” Magic sped down her arms and gathered in her hands, looking for a target.

  “You are. And the wounds others caused you are nothing compared to what you’re doing to yourself. Irina, you don’t have to destroy this boy and yourself to get to Lorelai. You don’t have to keep everyone too terrified of you to dare lift a finger against you.” He raised a hand and laid it softly against her cheek. “You don’t need magic to be loved. You have everything you need to be a beloved queen—a beloved woman—right here.” His hand dropped to press against her heart.

  “Viktor . . .”

  “I love you, Irina. Not because you wield magic. Not because you’re the queen. In fact, I love you despite those things.” He dropped to his knees and gathered her hands in his. “I love you, and I’m asking you to stop this. Please.”

  She tore her gaze from his and stared at the box that held her hope. For a moment, she tried to imagine a life outside Ravenspire. Alone with Viktor on a ship, searching for an island to call their own. But if she did that, her father would win. Milek would win.

  Tatiyana, with her treachery, would win.

  They would have everything, and Irina would be condemned to wander with no title, no kingdom, and no power to call her own.

  She pulled her hands from Viktor’s.

  “Irina, please.”

  “I’m not leaving.” She blinked tears from her eyes and pushed him away so she could stand. “I’m going to strengthen my heart, and then I’m going to finish what Lorelai started nine years ago. I’m going to keep what is rightfully mine.”

  “How can you be sure the spell even works? Maybe the hearts haven’t been the problem. Maybe it’s—”

  “It worked on my father.” She refused
to look at him. “It works on a Morcantian heart. I just have to hope it also works on a heart from Eldr.”

  He slowly rose to his feet. “Do you love me?”

  She stopped, her hand hovering over the box, as the question burned within her.

  Did she love him? What would it cost her if she did?

  He moved to her side, and repeated, “Do you love me?”

  Slowly, she looked at him. At his pretty face, his rumpled cravat, and his blue eyes pleading with her to simply tell him the truth.

  “Yes,” she said softly before turning back to the box. “But I can’t be happy with you if I don’t defeat Lorelai and remain on Ravenspire’s throne, and the only way I can do that is by replenishing the strength in my heart.”

  “And that will heal you? It will keep you alive so that you can defeat Lorelai, remain on the throne, and finally be happy?” The grief in Viktor’s voice pulled at Irina.

  She met his gaze and something shuddered inside her at what she found there. He knew the solution she’d been too afraid to put into words. “Yes. This will fix everything, and I will finally be at peace. I’ll finally be happy.”

  She reached for the box, but he took her hand and pulled her against himself instead. Before she could speak, he covered her mouth with his. His kiss was wild—his lips claiming her, his teeth grazing her skin with a tiny bite of pain.

  When he raised his head, he took the hand that had hovered over the gold box and placed it on his chest instead. “I meant it when I said I would not allow you to ruin that innocent boy’s life. If you really need to take the remaining years from a heart, if that is what will truly bring you peace, then you can have mine. But you cannot have his.”

  She trembled as she stared at him. As the heart inside the gold box beat strongly while Irina’s heart stuttered and ached.

  She’d told him the truth. She wasn’t leaving Ravenspire. Not after all she’d sacrificed to make it hers.

  One more sacrifice, and then she’d be ready. She’d be powerful. She’d be unstoppable.