Into the Fire (The Unseelie Court Book 4) by Gwen Rivers (free ebooks romance novels .TXT) 📗

mumbles something too low for even his wolf ears to discern. She slashes the air with the red dagger, carving patterns. The images linger, glowing brightly for a moment before her bloody commands fade slowly into the ether.

She meets Aiden’s gaze and her lips curve in a satisfied smile. “She deserves what’s coming for her.”

I appear in the same tunnels I’d traversed during my time in the gauntlet. The walls pulse with magic. Even without my queenly powers, I can feel it throbbing like a heartbeat. The womb of power for the Unseelie Court.

“This way,” Nightweaver beckons me forward.

I have no weapons. Sixteen years I’ve been preparing for this fight and for sixteen years I’d imagined what I would bring with me, how I would lay waste to Underhill’s forces.

But the only weapon I need is guile. I recall Loki’s poem from so long ago. Knowledge is power, unless you’re not sane.

Aiden’s father isn’t sane, but my mother is. She knows what she’s doing and is doing it anyway. I will only win by outsmarting her.

The magic that makes Pharaildis Underhill comes from her knowledge of the fey. Though her magic is formidable, and her army is deathless, my strength and determination to end her reign of terror give me the advantage.

She has nothing to lose. I have everything to protect.

My sneakers make no sound as the ghost leads me through the craggy tunnels. Pixies flit from little cracks in the walls, sifting their magic dust across the floor. I dodge it where I can, not wanting to deal with the mind-altering effects of their magical byproduct.

The corridor splits into a Y.

“That leads to the throne room.” Nightweaver indicates the left facing tunnel. “She likes to keep them close.”

We turn right. The thrumming of the walls grows louder and we ascend a hill so steep that my calf muscles burn.

“I have no memory of any of this,” I huff.

“She rearranges the palace. To keep those who still live unsettled.”

Nightweaver does an abrupt about-face and drifts through a solid wall. I stop. The dead often forget that things like walls will keep a living being out.

Nightweaver reappears. “They are just inside this chamber.”

“I can’t get through that way,” I say to the spirit.

“Use your magic.”

I don’t tell her I’m fresh out of Unseelie powers. Instead, I shift my gaze to the soul plane to sense what’s behind the wall.

All it takes is the hazy golden glow for me to recognize Addy.

“Find another way,” I say to the Valkyrie.

“There is no other way,” she insists. “Underhill moves the chamber around to create the door. She trusts no living guards with the prisoners.”

Paranoid. Untrusting. I’ve come by those traits honestly.

Footsteps sound from down the hall. Slow, dragging.

“Draugar,” I whisper.

“Run,” Nightweaver says. “If they corner you in here, they will shred you to pieces.”

I point at the wall, to the prisoners within. “Stay with them. Let them know I’m here.”

I take off back the way I came, panting as I round one corner and head into a new tunnel.

And skid to a halt.

Three Draugar turn to face me.

The dead fey are hideous. Skin hanging, flesh shriveled like raisins. Their eyes have liquified, what little moisture is left runs from the sockets.

My Goodnight Kiss won’t do a damn thing against things already dead.

“No,” I back up, but more are coming. They move slowly, closing the net around me. With each step they grow larger, blocking out all the space around their putrid carcasses.

“Little Queen,” one of the creatures speaks in a sibilant voice. “Come to die?”

It shouldn’t be able to talk, its vocal cords flap in the open air. Gruesome magic is at work.

My back hits the wall. Trapped.

“Up here!” A familiar voice calls. “Nic, hurry!”

I scan the area before glancing up. The ceiling is structured like a wasp’s nest with holes obvious from the rock. A hand that looks more like a large dark paw protrudes from between the crevices just above my head.

I don’t hesitate, leaping up and grasping the offered limb.

An arrow whizzes past my body. It connects with the nearest Draugar. The creature shrieks then burst into flames.

The large hand pulls me up into the dark space between chambers. Then something wraps around my midsection.

A pair of arms. Pale, slender, and overly affectionate.

I stiffen but then light flares to my left and I can make out the delicate face, the pointed ears, of my assailant.

Or rather my savior.

“Jazz?” I whisper unable to believe it’s really her.

“It’s so good to see you.” She grins up at me. She doesn’t look any older than she had the last time I’d seen her. The smattering of freckles exactly how I remembered them.

“Looks like you needed a hand,” A deep male voice says from behind us.

I turn, dislodging the nymph and then blink. “Taj?”

The Lord of the Land bows low. “Good to see you, Nic.”

“How?” I shake my head, stunned. “How did you come to be here?”

“I told them it was time.” Harmony steps forward.

“You told me you were taking a vacation.”

She shrugs. “Vanheim is lovely this time of year.”

If the seer hadn’t just saved my bacon, I might hate her. That’s when I see the final member of the party. The winged helmet, a long intricate golden braid. And in her warrior’s hand, a familiar sword.

“Freda.” Tears fill my eyes at the sight of her. “Where did you get that?”

“From me. I pinched it from the goddess.” Harmony says.

“I wanted to come sooner,” Freda says. “But we had no way across.”

I shake my head. “How can I complain about your timing? You saved my life.”

She nods. “And now we need to get our people back.”

“How will we get out of here?” Jazz asks. “The dead are everywhere.”

“Leave that to me, little one.” Taj puts his hand to the rock. The fissure starts to tremble and shake. I hang on to Jazz with all my might so she doesn’t slip through the opening below. It’s a struggle to stay on my feet.

“What are