Page 141 of A Crown Without Mercy

“Yes, milord,”another warrior replied.

“Klyn, secure the grounds. I want every warrior prepared for battle.”

“What’s happened?”Klyn asked.

“Sylvana is in trouble,”Riordan replied.

Vispera was sitting on her throne sipping from a chalice and listening to The Mercurial Guardians discussing their plan of attack.

“Once Ranan brings us thy Ascelin, thine only purpose Kadric will serve will be as bait for his offspring,” Ninbae said.

“Any word on Ranan?” Diaspor asked.

“He left hours ago and as long as his mate does her job he should have an easy time sequestering her,” Stronbo replied.

“Dronve will ensure he does not have other plans,” another stated.

“Has anyone received word from Dronve?” Vispera questioned.

“No, Priestess,” Diaspor replied.

She took a sip, set the chalice down on her gilded table, and spun the jeweled bands around her wrist.

Two of the Guardian’s suddenly opened the golden doors in the center and four Faye warriors walked in, one of whom was carrying what appeared to be a body draped in a white linen, saturated with blood.

All those in attendance took a knee and lowered their heads. “Priestess,” they said.

Vispera stood, placed her hands across her stomach and gasped. “Dronve?” she whispered. Mascuriel placed the body on the floor and stepped back as she ran down the steps.

She hastily pulled the linen away and fell onto her ass. “Noo!” she wailed. She pushed herself onto her knees and looked at his face, which was unrecognizable. She fell over his body and cradled him in her arms. “Who did this? Who killed my mate?” she wailed.

She looked up and glanced amongst Guardians who were standing around in a circle around her. Diaspor kneeled down behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders. “Priestess, we will punish whoever did this.”

“Where is Ranan?” she screamed.

“We do not know. It appears as though a feral Lycan killed Dronve,” Eoin replied. He then pulled Dronve’s dagger from his waistband and handed it to Vispera.

“The feral are Ranan’s scouts,” Diaspor said.

She lifted it to her face, and her nostrils flared as she slid her tongue along the flat of the blade. Her eyes widened, and her face contorted with rage. “Ranan is a fucking traitor!” Vispera roared. She stood up, flipped a table, and then turned to the Guardians. “Find him! Kill them all!” She then fell to her knees again, rocked back and forth over his body and wailed.

After a few minutes, Diaspor gently placed his arms around her and lifted her to her feet. “We shall place him on thy altar, Priestess.” He nodded to the Guardians, and they picked up his body.

Sylvana regained consciousness and was lying on her stomach where she smelled the heady scent of aged wood. Out of her peripheral vision, another large piece of wood slightly askew was obscuring the attackers. The energy holding her down slowly dissipated, and as she painfully rolled over, a shadow grew overhead, and she realized she was being sealed in a wooden box.

She pounded her fists on the smooth planks, which did nothing more than to cause trickles of dirt to cascade down on her face, causing her to choke on the dust and debris. She could barely see out of one eye which was swollen shut, and her other was watering, having been coated in a thin layer of dirt. It wasn’t long before she the sounds of the dirt thumping against the top of the coffin became muffled and the last trickle of light shining between the planks from the lanterns swaying above disappeared.

Her labored breathing, due to her injuries, became all the more difficult when the claustrophobic confines of the small structure consumed her, and she became panic-stricken. “Why are you doing this?” she screamed.

She did all she could to try and find a weakness in the coffin, which did nothing more than cause excruciating pain and more debris to fall on her face, which stung her eye like the venom from tiny vipers. She closed her eyes and held her breath to slow her accelerated breathing.

After a moment, she slowly opened her good eye and used her keen sense of sight. She slid her fingers over the planks, took a deep breath, and waved her hands across the lid. A yellowish-orange glow grew in intensity and seemed to dissolve the icy-blue mist flowing from her palms. Symbols, and writing in a language she only seen in books and scrolls of morphed and twisted above her body.

“Powers of the Faye,” she said aloud. The tears spilled from her eyes. “No one is coming. No one even knows I left. I’m suck a fucking idiot,” she cried.“Riordan, can you hear me? Nicolai—Kieran? Fucking listen to me!”she screamed telepathically.

She pulled the amulet from beneath her tunic, cupped it in her hands, and held it to her forehead. “Please, please hear me.” She rolled onto her side to alleviate the pressure on the gaping wound on her back and continued calling to her mates.

The sounds of the deep horns blowing interrupted the conversations and laughter, and a wave of silence fell over the gardens.

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