Chapter 7

Nerys exploded out of the Betwixt. She stumbled, half-fell, and pushed off against the ground with one hand to stay upright. No graceful butterflies formed this time from the Betwixt haze; ragged streamers of black mist clung to her, flying behind her like a tattered cloak of shadow.

She bolted across the leafy floor of a forest; she had no idea which forest, and she didn't care. She dodged, reckless, as massive tree trunks flashed past, forcing her flight this way and that. Ducking late, she caught her shoulder against the coarse bark of an unforgiving tree, reeled past with a cry. Ropes of ivy snarled at her ankles; she blasted them away with a hot bolt of magic. Snatching thorns tore at her dress. She lashed a wild blast at them, too, obliterating the whole bush.

She couldn't see through the fog of hot tears. Rhythmic sobs accompanied her pounding feet as she continued to dodge on dull instinct. Her gaze turned inward, focused on the image of Fayne, her Fayne, bucking beneath a mortal man like some common whore…

The Witchkin she had Queened, whom she had loved for nigh a century. The Fire goddess she had sworn to serve and protect, for whom she had committed atrocities she didn't dare name in the cold light of day. The woman who had promised her a safe haven for her heart, in exchange only for her loyalty.

Nerys' breath sobbed in her throat as her emotions gained force, and her flight became more and more haphazard. She raced on, ricocheting off obstacles in her path. Her magic dashed with her, sparking out of control in wild bursts of shadow, electric, ice. She gave up on her attempts at evasion as the forest began to flit in and out of focus, no longer bothering to aim her spiralling charms. Bolts of power smashed a rough pathway for her darting feet – shattering trees, crushing rock, upheaving the very earth. Forest dwellers scattered in panic, fleeing the careening Lat'Nemele as she haemorrhaged magic.

Nerys ran all night, blind to the destruction. Only one thing hung in her blurred mind – run. Her wild eyes were frantic, her fang-tips bared around her panting breath. She swung her head to and fro as she hurtled onwards, seeking a route to escape from the pain. Unwittingly, she headed uphill, and her lungs burned with the added strain of sprinting up an incline. But she was lost to insanity, pushing on with demonic desperation, wrenching the life force out of the forest around her to fuel her flagging muscles.

At last, in the preternatural light before dawn, the trees opened out and she skidded to a halt, teetering at the top of a sheer drop down to a distant valley floor miles below. Her escape thwarted, Nerys balled her fists. She tilted back her head, howling her inhuman hurt and fury like a wounded wolf. Her eyes burned with devastating intensity, hardly seeing the realm around her as she watched, again and again, Fayne throw back her head in savage pleasure.

Nerys raised clawed hands to the heavens, beseeching someone, something, anything. But she knew neither what nor whom, and received no answer. With a curdling scream, she tore open the sky.

Lightning crashed down, intertwined with strands of darkness, a magic she rarely touched. A volley of bolts detonated with cataclysmic intensity across the expanse of the valley below. Nerys pulled the power down again, again, again. She screamed her anguish with each effort, battering the world below her feet until nothing remained of the vale but a charred, smoking wasteland. Finally, she grew weak. She released the magic and fell to her knees, spent.

Yet the Darkness hovered.

The acrid smell of burning scorched her nostrils as she panted for breath. In slow stages, her heart relinquished its race, and she shivered with the abatement of adrenaline. Feeling suddenly small and helpless, she curled into a ball on her side, weeping in the wake of such powerful loneliness. She tried to still her mind, but the image of her fiery lover beneath the puny Human King was etched onto the inside of her eyelids. Pressing cold palms against them, she tried to crush the image away. She fisted her hands, but Fayne's mocking face persisted.

And the Darkness caressed her shivering form.

She drew a deep, calming breath, and felt the touch of Darkness, her old friend. It watched with her, the vivid, exaggerated images in her mind. It whispered to her. Suggesting things. Reminding her of who she was, of what she was capable. It coaxed out a hot, deadly rage, pushing aside the hurt and bewilderment. She lay still, listening to it croon. Her heart rate strengthened, climbing once more.

The Darkness waited, letting her catch her breath. Letting her mind unravel.

For decades, she had lived in the shadows as Fayne's secret lover whilst the Firekin had played her part as Rador's gracious wife.

For decades, she'd schooled her impatience, knowing that there was a grand purpose. She'd contented herself with their secret engagements, and Fayne had offered her an outlet for her thwarted emotion – the systematic murder of Fayne's enemies – to offset her frustrations.

Fayne had charmed her along, too, with promises that, one day, she would acknowledge Nerys. That the Lat'Nemele would finally step into the light as Queen Consort. She would be, officially, the faithful shadow to Fayne's bright flaring fire magic. But the politics surrounding a reigning Queen were complex and delicate, and Fayne had yet to honour her promise – despite the twenty intervening years since she had taken the throne.

Nerys had waited patiently, adoring her. Trusting her. Obeying her every whim.

And now, she'd caught her with a Human King in her bed.

The Darkness whispered to her. Nerys rolled to a crouching position, burying her head in her hands. She tugged at her raven mane, as if she could tear the images from her mind.

Desperately, she wanted to kill Fayne, but she knew couldn't bring herself to do it.

With deliberate care, she pushed to her feet, staring across the ravaged remnants of what had once been a stunning vista. Her face hardened as she took in the craters she'd blasted down to the bedrock. In the cracks on their lips, she could see the lingering stain of dark magic. It sang to her, but now that she was back on her feet, her upper lip curled. She abhorred releasing the Darkness – it was such a fickle element. Even now, she could feel it clinging to the edge of her aura, leery of returning to its prison. It crooned to her, begging her to embrace it. Softly, it called her name.

But she knew its game.

If she let it in, she was lost. Scores of people would die – unnecessary deaths. Deaths that lacked even the reasoning of those committed out of loyalty and for love. Deaths that would mar her soul, forever.

She returned her reeling emotions to Fayne, blotting out the Darkness, turning her back on it. Fayne was safe, Fayne was her happy place – even when she hated her.

"Bitch," she whispered.

But her heart wasn't in it. It was flirting with the Darkness.

Oh! This was Fayne's fault, all Fayne's fault! She felt her breath quicken despite herself, and tried again.

"Cruel, selfish, despicable bitch!"

She shouted it, keeping her dark thoughts pinned on Fayne – her safe target. One that she knew she wouldn't destroy. But the Darkness circled her, panting excitement. Insistent. Urgent. She felt her magic croon back at it, and she shook herself desperately.

"No, dammit!" she hissed. She threw her head back, fighting for control. "Gods, Fayne! You ungrateful, self-centred, arrogant, heartless whore!"

She pushed Fayne's face to the fore in her mind, holding it there with all her might. She outlined the heart-shape of it, staring into those bright, emerald eyes. She caressed the haughty, self-assured curve of her smile. But the redheaded Queen's cruel beauty wavered. Her eyes turned inky, and Nerys gasped.

She couldn't hold it back; the tide of Darkness crashed through her mind with the all the force of a tsunami, burying conscious thought beneath an avalanche. Her magic was too volatile, too close to the surface – she couldn't stop it. Every other element in her blood sang for their dark companion, released on the flood of emotion. Nerys stilled. Her amber eyes whirled slowly, burning with a cold, deadly fire.

The Darkness in her mind swarmed, solidifying. Her eyes blackened, filmed by dense shadow. In short seconds, no trace of their glow remained. A murky image formed in her mind – the silhouette of a man straining over a fiery-haired woman, his strong fingers digging into her thighs as he conquered her.

Unerringly, she turned her gaze in the direction of the Third Kingdom. His Kingdom. Droahbar Len'Korran had denigrated her haven, vilified her sacred refuge. He had defiled the Queen.

Her Queen.

The Darkness chortled. Nerys' tongue skimmed her lips, thirsty for the sweet taste of human blood. The allure of the hunt called to her, and, at last, she relented. She couldn't fight it; she no longer wanted to. She sighed, releasing the last vestiges of humanity that had held her hostage.

And then, she laughed. Savage, wild, deadly.

She revelled in the Darkness as it seeped into her core, and raised both arms with graceful flair. At her command, a cloud of dainty, swallow-tailed, shadow butterflies spiralled up to engulf her. They concealed her lithe, predatory stance in a heartbeat, and she ported effortlessly into the Betwixt.

Tremulous, echoing, the strains of her vibrant laughter hovered in the bright dawn air long after she'd gone.