Queen of Ash

𝐼𝓉'𝓈 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓇

Luna cursed soundly as she urged her power into healing her arm. Her arm still bled and stars still spotted her vision. But it had all happened in the blink of an eye, and that's all it took for him to shatter her right arm. But it was nothing Luna couldn't heal. She'd seen worse down in the servant's hall, where maids came crawling down the stairs, begging for help. Most had shattered legs, or broken arms and sometimes the most mysterious claw marks on their bodies.

The crate she sat on groaned, echoing across the dark and silent alley. Nathen still wasn't here.

Since the day Luna had set foot in the palace, she'd vowed to things. One, heal the servants, make sure they get enough food and don't die from their injuries. And two, kill the king. For years, the young healer had been working with a band of rebels, slowly recruiting armies, planning to overthrow the king. He'd murdered millions of Fae, claiming it was for the better, but the families didn't think so.

The Dark King had slaughtered Luna's family too. It had been a lovely night and she'd just turned 18. But then as they'd started to go upstairs to sleep, someone knocked on her door. And when her mother had opened the door, three Fae males had stepped in. A warrior with brown curly hair and ice swirling around his hands, another with white hair and blue flames curling in his palms.

The third seemed to be death himself, dark ebony eyes, pitch-black hair and an obsidian colored sword in his hand.

Luna had instantly known it was the king, not because of the golden crown atop his head, but because of his powers. Opposite from her healing powers, he could control death itself, reverse it if he wished. Even as she set the bones in her arms, she could still remember their screams as the King slaughtered them, a smile plastered on his face. And the other two males had done nothing to stop him.

The healer let out a cry, as the bones snapped in place and as her magic repaired them quickly. All she could do was stare up at the stars slowly disappearing as the sun came up, while her magic finished the job. It drained her, the magic. She could sleep for days after healing one arm or several broken legs, but she was never given the opportunity since she had to serve the king. Luna never saw the two warriors again but she swore on her life that she kill them if she ever did.

Jasmine, another servant approached her, weariness etched on her face. "There's someone here to see you," she said before scurrying off. Relief washed through Luna as she saw a man walk towards her. She got up and launched herself into Nathen's arms, squeezing him tightly.

"You came," she huffed, breathing in his scent. He smelled of lightning and damp grass after the may showers.

"Yes my dear, I couldn't stay away from too long," he said, pulling back. He cupped her cheeks and kissed passionately.

Luna's cheeks flushed as he pinned her against the wall of a nearby building.

"Nathen, please stop," she said pushing him back. "I injured myself today." He took a step back, worry etched on his face.

"What do you mean?" he asked, examining her arm. He traced the new scar with his calloused finger, pursuing his lips.

"I tripped and fell down the stairs," she lied. He didn't need to know about the king or that she served him. For all he knew, she worked for a rich man.

Nathen hugged her tightly, minding her arm.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled against her neck. A small flower bloomed in her hair, its red petals shining in the dawnlight.

"I'll be fine. I saw a healer earlier." she lied again. Her lover didn't know about her gifts only that she could grow plants.

"Want to get some food?" he asked, well aware dawn approached.

"No, I'm sorry I can't," Luna replied. "I have work."

"When will I see you again?" he mumbled, kissing her neck. A blush crept up her cheeks but she shoved Nathen back gently.

"Tomorrow. I'll find a way to get out," she said and kissed him one last time. But she knew she wouldn't be able to.

The clock tower in the center of Illyria, chimes 6 o'clock, waking the whole city.

"I need to go. The Lord is waking up." Indeed, she'd spent the whole night healing herself and hadn't had time to meet up with Ashton and the twins. But she'd meet the rebellion leader tomorrow, for the king was waiting. Nathen kissed her one last time and scurried off, a smile on his face.

The young healer had known Nathen for many years and it had been only recently they'd become lovers. But after many nights together, Luna still wondered why the mating bond hadn't snapped into place yet. It had been a lifelong dream of her to one day find her mate and have children with him, but so far, Luna has no luck. But she dreamed of a day where the king was dead and she'd run away in the arms of her mate.

But Luna knew that day wouldn't ever come.

So, she worked harder with the rebels, filling them in with what happened and giving them the layout of the castle, waiting for the day she'd slit his throat.

As she entered the kitchen, a bell rang, indicating that the Dark Lord was awake, ready to terrify her again.

"A letter for you my Lord" a voice said from outside Alexandre's door. He groaned and stretched his arms. "Slip it under the door," he yelled from the giant bed. Someone grumbled outside and a white envelope slipped under the door. Alexander didn't bother to say thank you as he flung off the sheets and slipped on some pants. As he tightened his belt, his twin knives attached and stared out through the window at the lively city below.

As soon as a bright sun barely rose into the sky, shop owners, blacksmith, and other merchants opened their windows ready to greet their daily customers. Alexander pulled on a shirt, his muscles aching. He'd fought another man dozen men yesterday, desperately trying to prove themselves. But no one could beat the Bringer of Night and Shadows.

Alexander picked up the letter off of the floor. He stared at the red wax seal, his breath catching. The King had two color wax seals, a red one for his warriors and a black one for all of his other letters. It was red, meaning it was of utmost secrecy. With one quick motion, Alexander tore open the letter and read it. Once. Twice.

Shadowwalker I have received word that Rhoe has found my mate. He is on his way back. You are to return to the palace immediately, we have matters to discuss.

His majesty, the King of the Fae

The Shadowwalker gaped at the paper before crumpling it up into a ball. He then threw it into the fireplace and watched it burn before he unsheathed one of his knives and hurled it at the wall. The wood groaned as the silver blade embedded itself in the wall.

Shadowwalker

Only Rhoe called him that. How'd the king find out?

He is on his way back.

Rhoe had found her, had accomplished his mission before him. Once again.

He grunted as he felt the second knife's magic tug. His knives were made with the strongest metal in the whole Kingdom of Fae and were laced with Lyrian magic. But Lyrian magic was different from his and Rhoe's. It was used for crafting and agriculture but the merchant who'd sold them to Alexander had told him that they were special. And indeed they were. The knives always found each other, the Lyrian magic drawing them together. If he lost one, he'd follow the tug and would immediately find the second one.

He approached the wall and pulled out his knife, the tug vanishing. Rhoe had found her, which meant he had to return to Illyria. Illyria, his only home. They called Illyria the City of Ash, but nobody remembered why.

The Shadowwalker stepped into the street and set off towards the City of Ash, relieved to go home. 

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