Page 113 of Golden Queen
I was alone now, since all the other necromancers had fled—or died like the two lying at my feet.
I recognized the dank walls around me. I was still under the castle in the unused dungeons. I turned to the door, but weakness swamped me. I struggled to take a step.
The floor was warm and wet beneath my bare feet. When I looked down, I was surprised to see so much blood.
The door opened, but I found I could not raise my head back up to see who it was. I was utterly spent.
"What have you done, you idiotic girl," came a female voice. "Stupid little cunt. You have nearly killed yourself. Get her back on the table."
I heard the jangling of armor and shuffling of boots as soldiers filled the room.
I willed myself to move as fear filled me at the idea of them putting me back on the table. "No," I cried, but my voice was broken, hoarse, all used up in the screaming.
Hands grasped me. I opened my mouth to scream as the ruin of my forearms jostled as I was lifted, carried. The sound of my cry was little more than air forcing its way past my burning throat. "No," I cried again. "No."
I was powerless again as my back slid against the smooth, cold surface of the wood.
A hand fisted in my hair and yanked my head to the side where I saw a pale, moon-white face with vivid red lips swim before my vision. "The prince is going to hate you," she said. "You are so fat."
A wild, inappropriate laugh burst out of me, but the effort caused a cough to sputter from my chest and a bright spray of blood hit the woman in the face, dotting her pale skin with red that matched her lacquered lips.
Her eyes went wide, and she jerked back from me with a look of disgust. "Fucking bitch," she snarled, using her sleeve to wipe at her face.
I only turned my head to the ceiling and laughed again. It was a strange sound, and it startled me a little—like it wasn't me laughing at all.
It seemed to scare the woman as well. She made the sign to ward off evil against her chest, the three middle fingers bent, the pinky and thumb pointed out.
It only made me laugh harder. I supposed I must really have snapped. I had gone insane.
The woman left. I heard the soft sound of her slippers padding across the room, and then the heavy wooden door closing behind her. I knew the insane laughter still coming from deep in my chest followed her down the corridor.
I was still laughing when the soldiers jerked the chains attached to my arms and spread them out to fix me to the table again. I laughed until my throat cracked with hoarseness, and the sound was little more than the hiss of the wind sighing through the godsgrass.
I only stopped laughing when I saw brilliant, silver-white flames curl up around me at the edges of my vision, filling the room with fire.
Twenty
My first thought was that death was coming for me. I would burn, and blessed relief would wash through me, ending the agony that had become my flesh. But when the silver flames billowed up around the edges of the table, licking across my skin with only a gentle heat, I knew it must be Io.
That hope was dashed as I saw the flames fully in front of me. They were not his warm, golden fire. They did not rush through me like a river of peace calming the aches in shadowy corners of my soul.
The flames were a comfort nonetheless, as they surrounded me where I lay—especially as I heard screams of pain around me, erupting from the soldiers and necromancers who were now flaming pillars flailing around the table.
I watched the white fire ebb and flow around me in rushing streams and clouds. The fire rolled and unfurled across the stone walls and the ceiling above, filling every space with bright, burning light.
I needed to rise, but every ounce of strength had left my body. I only lay there and watched, waiting for what torment, what horror, would come next.
The pressure of something on my stomach pulled me out of my stupor.
A white dragon sat on top of me with her wings outstretched above her and her mouth open wide. A furious stream of fire spewed forth from her mouth where rows of razor-sharp teeth lined the top and bottom of her jaws.
I couldn't understand how so much fire could come from such a small body, but it was there in front of me—a violent column issuing forth from her open, angry little mouth.
I faintly registered the sounds of a battle outside in the corridor. Swords clashed and men cried out.
I turned my head to see a figure silhouetted against the flames. The shape of him was so familiar that my heart did a listless turn in my hollowed-out chest.
He held his sword in front of him, long arms tensed as he stepped into the flames.
