Heir of Death

Chapter 17

Melantha made her way over to Lorcan, the pain still evident on his face. He refused her hand to help him to his feet instead his eyes proved he was far off. Instead, she walked over to Gavriel, kneeling beside him Melantha could feel the same pain in the old fae's soul. She never realised that there had been something else entwined in her brother and Gavriel's souls until they were torn apart when Maeve released them.

Maeve, the dark queen. She'd done all she could to protect Elide, dispute the way the swamp pulled and drained her already failing magic. The Dark Queen hadn't even batted an eyelash as her magic reached down around her, in a way that would usually cause her opponent to weaken, fueling her own magic. No, the queen had absorbed her magic like men on the ship. Maeve had only laughed at her.

Rowan had a knife to her brother's throat the next second, Lorcan’s throat exposed by Rownan’s grip on his hair. One question falling repeatedly from his lips, "Where is my wife?"

Gavriel’s hand gripped her arm, a warning not to intervene, she shook him off suddenly as she felt her magic latch onto his. She needed to get out off this marsh, she needed to get a handle on her powers. Lorcan’s face, everyone’s face was white as they watched the interaction between the two ancient warriors. Not only was the throneless queen Rowan’s mate, if Maeve was to be believed, but his wife. He was now the King of Terresen which means her agreement with him allowed him to do the ordering. Another male that she’d let hearself get trapped by.

Tears ran down Lorcan's face, a male who'd not even cried after their mother's death. Melantha stayed put though hoping Elide would know what to do because she didn't. Lorcan had always been the one to pick her up, she didn't know what to do.

"Please," Rowan begged, his voice breaking as that calm fury fractured.
"Maeve took her," Manon said, approaching.
Gavriel rasped, reeling from the severing of his blood oath, "She used the oath to keep us down-keep us from helping. Even Lorcan."
Rowan still didn't remove the knife from Lorcan's throat.
"Where is the ship," Aedion demanded, then swore at the bloody shirt nearby. He grabbed Goldryn, frantically wiping the blood specks off the scabbard with his jacket.
"It vanished," Elide said again. "It just vanished."

Whitethorn stared down at him, agony and despair in those eyes. And Lorcan whispered, "I'm sorry."

Rowan dropped the knife, released the fist gripping Lorcan's hair. Staggered back a step. In the grass nearby, Dorian knelt beside her and Gavriel, a faint light glowing around them. Healing the wounds in his arms. There was nothing to be done for the soul-wound Maeve had dealt him, dealt Lorcan as well, in severing that oath with such dishonor.

Manon came closer, her witches now flanking her. They all sniffed at the blood. A golden-haired one swore softly. Manon told them about the Lock. And while they all spoke Melantha gathered what was left of her powers and leaned over to Graviel's ear.
"I promised my father Teressen's Queen would live, and I need to go before Rowan remembers our bargain," Melantha told him, even as she heard the Lock's true price. "I've got to go."

Falling back into Graviel's shadow she disappeared.