Page 98 of Taloned Heart

Abraxas felt the earth rumble as their army stepped out of the trees. Hundreds of dwarves, hundreds of humans, hundreds of elves. All walking as one. Intermixed were so many magical creatures he couldn’t name them all. Satyrs, giants, domovoy, ents, and more. All of them walking as one as they strode across the field toward the castle.

He spun just in time to see Margaret’s face pale. He wondered if this was the first time she’d taken this seriously. Perhaps she’d looked at Lore as an annoying fly that buzzed around her head. Now she realized there was a very real army standing in front of her. An army that would be difficult to defeat.

Except then Margaret bared her teeth at Lore, shadows whirling around her. “You forget the elves have magic. We have fought and trained for years. This castle is ours, and the future is for the elves. You will not take this from our people.”

“My people stand behind me,” Lore called out. “They are here to fight for our home, and we will drag you out of this castle if we must.”

“We will rain arrows down upon you.”

Lore looked up at the sky, and Abraxas knew this was his moment. A blast of power rolled out of him, the loud bang startling many of the elves on the wall as they realized a dragon of his size stood before them. He rose on his back legs, his roar shaking the very stones they stood upon. His head reached up to the same height they stood at, and then he turned his attention to the sky where his children blotted out the sun.

Someone screamed.

“Dragons!” they shouted, and a few elves tumbled down the steps toward the castle. Fleeing the sight.

He roared again and his children echoed his call. Three dragons who had come to take back the dark memories that haunted them. Three dragons who would change this kingdom forever.

CHAPTER38

Lore had known everything would fall apart after that. She’d threatened Margaret with the reality of what she’d been faced with, but also with the truth that her elves now knew her lies.

Lore was not a weak little half elf who was playing at taking a kingdom. She was a goddess, a warrior, a woman who had fought countless enemies to get to this point, and nothing was stopping her from taking what she wanted.

It was a hard truth. Perhaps a bit unfair to those who had believed Margaret’s nonsense. But their reality was now a battle.

And Lore hadn’t lied when she said they could run. She hoped they did. A world without elves in it would be sad indeed. And she had no intention of hunting them down afterwards. They could live their own lives. They could hide in the ancient elven ruins if they wished, but they would not be hunted like the mortals had been.

They put their trust in someone who did not care for them. That level of trust would be honored, but they would need to learn just how important it was for that trust to be in someone better. Someone worthy.

She already knew who that person would be. She’d seen how Zephyr worked with the humans, those who had been beaten and starved. The kindness in his soft hands, the smile on his face that tore at her very soul? All of that would make him a good king.

Glaring up at Margaret, she marveled at the similarities between herself and the Darkveil. Neither of them would have been good for that throne. Neither of them knew what it took to run a kingdom with a softer hand and guidance that would bring them toward better years. And yet, Margaret fought against that truth. She raged against it, clawing tooth and nail to get herself more power rather than realizing there was no stopping this. Lore had learned long ago to let it go.

She was not what this kingdom needed. She would never be the kind queen they wanted or deserved. But she would be its sword and shield when she was needed.

Perhaps forever. She hadn’t gotten that far yet.

Margaret hissed out a long breath and spun from the wall. “Release the arrows!”

Of course.

Lore had thought they might fight these battles with honor, but no. Margaret wanted this to end quickly because she feared what the outcome might be if she fought fairly.

Lore could play that game as well.

She’d promised that she would let these people take their kingdom back on their own. A goddess should not interfere in a battle that required them all to prove themselves worthy of the land they walked on. And she knew, deep in her chest, that this was important. They had to fight this battle on their own.

But she would damn well give them the chance to fight. Throwing up her arm, a spell flashed out of her hand and settled upon her army like a blanket. All the arrows that rained down upon them shattered into a fine powder. Like ash, it coated her people with a soft gray, but that was all. No arrows touched them. No wounds, no screams, nothing.

A few startled gazes flicked over to her. And she knew how strange she must look. A woman standing in the middle of a battlefield, one hand raised, her helm not even on her head. A giant crimson dragon looming over her with his teeth bared and a snarl warning away all those who might touch her.

She would not actively partake in the battle, she realized. Lore stood there, watching as her people poured toward the castle and started hammering at the front gate.

The first battle she’d fought with them, Lore had been in the thick of it. She’d lifted her blade above her head and screamed to the heavens with her wrath. But now, she was merely a spirit who stood on the sidelines and watched them. Casting blessings as she saw fit.

It was... strange. It was the first time she’d felt like the goddess they had all named her. Because she knew if she waded into the battle with her dwarven sword, that no one would come out alive.

“Should I even fight?” she asked, the question meant for Abraxas. “Should we get involved?”

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