Page 47 of A Kiss of Flame

Whereas a few moments ago they had seen the Aurum’s light pour through her, as if through stained glass, now it filled her to overflowing.

She burned from head to toe with the light of the Aurum, blazed with it. Her hair was fire, and her eyes like stars. Her skin glowed from within.

Wren had never seen anything like it. Even her would-be saviours faltered, staring in wonder. Finn fell back from his brother, aghast, his blue eyes wide in wonder.

And Leander… Leander snarled something incomprehensible and dived for the knife again.

He never made it. Even as he made to rise, he convulsed in agony, his back arching, his mouth opening in a strangled scream. He dropped to his knees again and Hestia walked to him, othertongue dancing on her lips until he fell still.

‘Forgive us his rashness, Queen Aeryn,’ she said in rapid, placating tones. How she could stand there and still speak told worlds about her bravery. Or her desperation. ‘The sisterhood had no part in this, nor did the king. I swear it on my life and my power. Scourge it from me with flames if I speak a lie. The crown of Ilanthus begs forgiveness for this transgression and… and…’ Her voice failed her as she stared at the figure bearing down on her and caught up with what she was actually facing now. Elodie had not even paused. Hestia dropped to her knees. ‘Lady, please. He’s a rash boy. A fool. He always has been. Like your husband, cut from the same cloth.’

Still Elodie advanced, like an incarnation of retribution.

‘He wanted to call the Nox,’ she intoned and her voice made the rocks around them tremble. It wasn’t her voice, not entirely. It sounded like many voices, harmonising down through the ages, a choir of Ilanthian royal women. ‘Here. In our holiest place. In our Sacrum.’ The flames behind her surged higher and higher, licking off the ceiling of the chamber now. It hurt to look at them. And at her.

Wren felt something twist inside her, something small and scared, and so very dark. She wasn’t looking at Elodie. Not anymore. Not really.

She didn’t know what it was.

And at the same time she feared that she did. Even the darkness swirling up around her shrank back in recognition of the power it would have to face. For the first time, the Nox retreated. For all its rage and need for vengeance, here and now, it was afraid.

‘Elodie.’ The voice was firm and yet gentle. And tired. So very tired. The weight of the world lingered in that voice. ‘Elodie, please. Come back.’

Roland was the one to reach her, to touch her, his hand on her shoulder. He was the only one who seemed able to look at her at such close proximity and not have the eyes burned from his head. He didn’t even flinch or try to shade the view. Just looked at her in all her glory and terror, and Wren knew he still loved her. No one could doubt that.

She was, and had always been, everything to him.

‘Elodie, it’s done,’ Roland tried again. ‘He’s been stopped. It’ll burn through you. Let go. Please…’

‘Wren? Princess, please,’ Anselm said, recovering himself, though his voice still shook. ‘We have to go. We have orders. You aren’t safe here.’

She wasn’t. Wren knew that. The shadows were still squirming for release. They wanted Leander’s blood and they would take it by force if they needed to. And then the Aurum would know her, and force her to reveal herself. And Elodie… dear light, it would be Elodie’s face that would look at her, Elodie’s form which would bear down on her…

Wren knew Elodie would never hurt her.

The Aurum, on the other hand…

Did Roland know? He had to know. He stood in the way of something far beyond mortal powers. But he didn’t move.

Tears flamed in Wren’s eyes and she saw Finn struggling to rise. But he was of the blood of Sidon too, an Ilanthian, a prince. He loved her but she was a danger to him. A threat. She knew that now. She felt it deep in the core of her body. No wonder Roland had sent him away.

The Nox stirred again, rising with renewed interest as it noticed him, his concern for her, his love. It wanted him. It wanted his submission and his life, it wanted his blood and his will. It wanted all of him and it would make her take it. No. Not like that. She couldn’t.

On seeing Finn, still splattered with Leander’s blood, the Nox seemed to forget where it was and what was happening.

He will be ours for all time. His blood, his submission, his death will be exquisite. Make him come to us, my little vestige. Make him ours.

It battered against the feeble barricades she had placed in her mind, hungry, desperate, scenting that blood and that need. Fear of Elodie was no longer holding it back. The Nox surged up again.

Wren’s mind whirled with darkness and endless night and need. So much need.

Elodie lifted her head, an unnatural movement, like a bird of prey sighting something in the distance, or a hound catching a scent of something to hunt. Her gaze snapped to Wren and she bared her teeth. The Aurum in her, filling her, burning through her…

Roland grabbed her arms and pulled her against him, holding her even though the light grew brighter and brighter, like a newborn star in the night. The chamber shook as if an earthquake struck, dust and fragments of stone falling like rain. Darkness spilled around her, and the light burned it away, hungry and enraged to be so threatened in its place of sanctuary, to have its home so violated.

Before Wren knew what was happening, Anselm and Olivier were running, carrying her along between them.

She tried to look back as they fell out of the doorway. The light snapped out, leaving only the golden glow of the flames as they had been and the figure of Roland de Silvius, holding Elodie’s limp form in his arms, as the Maidens of the Aurum gathered around them.