Storm Princess Saga- the Complete Series Page 23

  An enormous water drop falls past my face, the width of my hand. It splashes at my feet, sloshing upward. A full five seconds later, another one follows it. Each splash sounds out a word.

  It… isn’t… my… fault.

  “What isn’t?”

  It… isn’t… me.

  I shake my head and repeat. “What isn’t? I don’t understand you.”

  I… can’t…

  I wait for more. But that’s it. That’s all there is. The lightning sputters and dies. There are no more water drops. No more rain. The Storm calms and I have no idea what it was trying to tell me.

  I leave the Storm Vault feeling baffled. I stop inside the first room where Elise waits for me, wishing Baelen would appear like he had before. I take the opportunity to tell Elise what I asked Jordan to do—to keep Baelen safe.

  Elise hangs her head, her shoulders slumping. “I wish I had a better plan to offer you.”

  I slump into the chair at the side of the room. “Why am I doing this, Elise? Why am I trying to win? Why… can’t I just yield like everyone wants me to? Like I want to.”

  Elise sighs. “I understand your frustration, but even if you put aside the disaster of a raging storm that will happen if you die, the curse will force Commander Rath to kill you. He’s an honorable male and it will destroy him once he realizes what he’s done. Then the storm will be unleashed and kill him anyway. You won’t have saved him after all—”

  “No, stop.” My hand shoots into the air, silencing her. “What did you just say?”

  “I said that if Commander Rath kills you, the storm will be unleashed and kill him anyway.”

  “No.” The room suddenly becomes crystal clear, all of its corners and lines stark in my vision. I pick myself up and plant my hands on the translucent panels at the side. Elise’s elegant form is reflected in them, but I stare past her into the silent, dark Vault beyond.

  “On the day that the storm first spoke to me, it told me that my husband would kill me. But it never said anything about being unleashed. In fact… wouldn’t it be happy to be free? It wouldn’t warn me about it so that I could stop it from happening.”

  “What are you saying?”

  I whisper, “Baelen won’t die, because the storm won’t be free.”

  Elise gapes at me. “Princess, I don’t follow.”

  “If the Elven Command knows about the curse… or even created it…” I shudder. “Then that’s why they were desperate to eliminate Baelen. That’s why they’ve done everything they can to have one of their grandsons take my power. They don’t want Baelen to win because they can’t control him…”

  “Princess Marbella Mercy, you need to start making sense right now!” Elise stomps her foot, but worry chases the anger off her face. “Because you’re scaring me right now and I don’t mind admitting it.”

  I itch for my weapons belts, wanting the comfort of knowing I can unleash the storm’s power. My storm power. The power that, for some reason, I’m the first to use as a weapon.

  I say, “If I yield to Baelen, I’ll marry him, touch him, and transfer to him the power to control the storm. As soon as I do, the curse will be triggered and he’ll kill me. But the storm won’t be unleashed because he will control it.”

  Elise’s jaw drops. “He’ll be the first Storm Prince.”

  32. Marbella Mercy

  The idea of Baelen Rath as a Storm Prince… Why does that feel so right to me? Why am I not shrieking and ranting right now? Maybe it’s the shock of my realization keeping me numb. Maybe it’s knowing that if everything goes wrong for me, if I die, then the storm’s power will at least be in hands that I trust. Baelen’s hands. The Elven Command won’t be able to make Baelen use it in any dishonorable or evil way like they could try with someone else.

  I lean against the panel, my breath frosting against the cold darkness inside the Vault. “I thought someone wanted to unleash the storm, but it’s not about that at all. It’s about taking control of it.”

  Elise hovers beside me. “That would explain why the curse was created now. You’re the first Princess who can transfer her power to another elf. You’re also the first to use the storm as a weapon, which means it’s a deadly power to control.”

  “I could decimate a battle field.” I study my fingers pressed up against the panels. “Given what I can do with a single steel knife, cover me in steel armor and the results could be devastating.”

  “No other Princess has done what you have. Even Mai was a passive vessel.”

  “Are you sure? I saw her slow time.”

  “I did my research,” she says. “After I saw what you did when Commander Rath was here, I had a very frank discussion with Mai’s advisor. Mai was able to harness the remnant power of thunder and she could water her garden from her fingertips for a few hours after each visit to the Storm Vault, but she couldn’t weaponize the storm like you can.”

  “I guess I hoped I wasn’t completely alone in this.”

  “I’m sorry, Princess. What you can do has never happened before.”

  I run my hand through my hair, wringing out the water from my braid. “What I find unbelievable is the idea that all I have to do is touch another male to pass my power on to him. What if I accidentally bump into someone walking through the square one day?”

  What if the gargoyle I met on the mountain had leaned just a little closer? And why didn’t anything happen when he picked me up inside his wings to deposit me inside the cave? Or… maybe something did happen and now there’s a super-charged-storm-controlling-gargoyle raging around Scepter Peak?

  I almost laugh, but it’s shallow and quickly dies in my throat. “Elise, I have a lot of questions, but what I really need to know is whether the Elven Command actually knows about the curse or worse… if they created it to take control of the Storm. They’ve been talking about launching an attack on the gargoyles. The Storm would be the perfect way to do that.”

  She chews her lip. “I don’t want to believe they’d create the curse. They’ve always been proud, arrogant…”

  “Control-freaks?”

  Her eyebrows lift as if punctuating her response. “Yes, but they’ve never been deliberately reckless or cruel before. My guess is that they found out about it and thought they’d use it to their advantage.” She shakes her head. “Maybe the question we should be asking is how was the curse created? Deep magic can only be manipulated through life itself.”

  I nod. “When I flew with the Phoenix, it told me that the storm was created when a female gargoyle gave her life for revenge.”

  “Which means that this curse was created from death.” Elise’s gaze flashes across the Vault. “I need to look into recent deaths. That should lead us to whoever is doing this.”

  “Thank you, Elise. I know you won’t let me down.”

  “Well… at least now I have a place to start.” She squares her shoulders as she leads the way out of the anteroom.

  When we reach my quarters, I find Jordan already dressed and half of the Storm Command fussing over her hair and the other half making a bouquet of white lilies for her. Her dress drapes across the chair she’s sitting on, her elegant appearance only ruined by the puffy eyes she reveals when she looks up.

  “This is my last time in this room,” she says as I draw near, my storm boots squelching. “I won’t be allowed in this place again.”

  “True. But one glance from Sebastian and this moment of sadness will be forgotten forever. Remember, other reasons.”

  She breaks into a gorgeous smile and I leave her with the Storm Command while I retreat to my bedroom with a minimal guard. I stare into the abyss that is my closet. My wardrobe isn’t exactly stocked with weddings in mind. Come to think of it, it’s not even stocked with my own wedding in mind. I own multiple storm suits, several gray body suits for exercising, and a few casual dresses. I have the cloak I wore to the Heartstone Ceremony, and I have my armor. And… that’s it.

  One of my ladies appears in the doorway.
She’s as tall as Jordan, but the opposite in appearance: blonde, blue-eyed, and stealthy as a shadow panther. She’s just as deadly as Jordan with a bow and arrow and, well, every other kind of weapon. But most importantly, she’s calm, quietly intelligent, and always thinks before she acts. She doesn’t know it yet, but I’m going to request that she takes over from Jordan.

  “Yes, Reisha?”

  “If I may, Princess. This gift was left for you.” She places a large, white box on my bed. “Elise checked it over for spells and I’ve assessed it for threats. It’s safe for you to open.”

  I run my hand over the top. “Who is it from?”

  “I believe Commander Rath’s advisor brought it to the door, Princess.” She bows and retreats to the side of the room where two other ladies wait, giving me as much privacy as they can, while still watching over me.

  I chew my lip with uncertainty as I open the box. The lid is light and lifts off easily. Inside the box, a note rests on top of the contents, which are wrapped in material. I recognize Baelen’s scrawl, written in the same graphite that he used to draw with.

  My mother wore this on the night she met my father.

  I want you to have it.

  B.

  The silken cover slides between my fingertips as I push it aside. Baelen’s mother fell ill with a deadly fever when Baelen was ten years old. She was pregnant at the time and neither she nor his baby sister survived. The impact on Baelen was… indescribable. He didn’t become bitter, angry, or reclusive, but he was somehow set apart from everyone else afterward. The only one he reached out to, connected with—for some reason I’ll never understand—was me. Maybe it was because I never pushed him to talk when he didn’t want to, never assumed he was happy when he wasn’t, never asked anything from him. I was just… there. His father refused to remarry despite pressure from the other Houses and Baelen became the only heir to the Rath name.

  I slide the wrapping open to reveal the dress beneath. It rustles into my arms, a deep purple with a plunging gauzy neckline, fitted through the bodice and waist, and falling to a cascade of silken folds from the hips. Delicate fabric flowers adorn the base of the bodice and drip across the waist and hips. It’s elegant but also understated, and most importantly, it won’t outshine Jordan’s dress.

  I place it carefully back into the box while I bathe and dry my hair. I opt not to tie my hair back into my usual braid, leaving it out, tucked behind my ears and falling in waves to my waist.

  I don’t even consider not wearing the dress. I’ve told Baelen I won’t yield. In fact, the whole city knows. But he chose to send me this anyway. I can’t try to read anything into it other than what he said in his note: It was important to him and he wants me to have it. I allow myself to feel grateful for his thoughtful gift.

  When I pull on the dress, I discover that the folds concealed two high slits running up each leg. I ponder what to do with my weapons belts. They’ll be visible and obvious, and it feels wrong to take daggers to a wedding. Even if I could conceal them, it wouldn’t feel right. I study my gloves and belts, trying to decide what to do with them, until Reisha speaks up from the side of the room.

  “How are you at catching?” she asks.

  “Not bad. I guess.”

  “Then, carry your gloves, but let me hold the weapons for you and I promise I’ll get them to you if you need them.”

  When I nod my agreement, her expression becomes stern, “But I also promise you, you won’t need them, because we aren’t going to let anything happen to ruin this night.”

  She means it—not just for me but for Jordan whom they all love. My Storm Command is made up of twenty females who live to protect me. Their whole lives are contained within these walls. They don’t have boyfriends or husbands. They just have each other. And they have me.

  When I emerge, Jordan is ready and so is my Storm Command. They’ve opted for full battle dress and I’m quietly relieved. I have no doubt they could handle themselves in silk dresses, but I’m much more comfortable with them presenting a formidable force. They are my protectors, my security, and my defenders. I’m lucky to also call them my friends.

  “Princess,” Jordan says, “It’s been an honor.”

  “The honor is all mine.”

  I proceed ahead of her since I need to arrive first. The wedding is taking place under the spreading oak in the middle of the courtyard. Jordan doesn’t know yet, but Elise has spellcast the open space with glittering lanterns and twinkling stars—and a protective shield that only allows family and friends inside the area. We have the whole courtyard to ourselves.

  Jordan waits just inside the courtyard, hidden from view by a line of my ladies. My feet walk a path of rose petals strewn along the way to the oak. A line of my warriors walks on either side of me, giving me a clear view of what lies ahead.

  Sebastian waits under the oak. His cousin, Simon, stands beside him. It seems like a lifetime ago that I thought Simon was going to be the champion in the trials. Now he’s smiling, a far cry from the tension of the Heartstone Ceremony. Guests sit on gilded seats on either side of the wide path. I recognize Sebastian’s mother and of course his grandfather, Teilo Splendor. I hold my breath, waiting to see if Baelen is among them.

  I don’t see him.

  I push away my disappointment. I wanted him to know that I accepted his gift. And if I’m really honest, I’ll admit that I wanted him to see me in it. The dress is beautiful and fits me perfectly. But this night isn’t about me or the trials. It’s about Jordan.

  I’m surprised when I locate Jasper among the guests though. As everyone rises to their feet, he gives me a nod, forever serious, his earlier emotions hidden again. I acknowledge him with my own nod before moving to the front.

  “Sebastian,” I greet him as I pass by.

  “Princess.”

  I stand before the trunk of the tree, briefly noting that a small table has been placed there like I asked. At the back of the crowd, Elise gestures to a choir of elves. They begin to sing as Jordan approaches. She’s flanked on either side by warriors and tears glisten in her eyes. From the moment she appears, Sebastian can’t tear his eyes off her. She reaches his side and he takes her hand in his. For a moment, their foreheads touch, before drawing apart and giving me their attention.

  I lift my voice when the choir falls silent. “There are moments in our lives that pass too quickly but leave us forever changed. This is one of those moments. Sebastian and Jordan have waited their whole lives to be here together, and we are blessed to share this time with them.”

  I turn to Simon. “Simon Splendor, please place the rings on the table. Don’t hand them directly to me.”

  He looks uncertain. This is the part that everyone’s nervous about—me handling metal—but I’m not worried. I’ve learned to control my power.

  When he places the rings on the table, I take one in each hand, placing them in my palms and turning them upward. I keep a leash on the power raging through me so that the gold rings rest quietly against my skin.

  “Sebastian and Jordan, may your love be as gentle as a summer rain shower.”

  I let go of the storm just a little, and rain seeps from the surface of my skin, dripping upward against the force of gravity. The onlookers gasp, but I ignore them, concentrating on the rings.

  “May your love be as powerful as thunder.”

  I let go a little more to allow pressure to thud through my hands, pushing the rings upward, floating them in the air above my palms, sustaining the suspension while I continue speaking.

  “May your love burn as brightly as lightning in a clear sky.”

  My hands light up and so do the rings, glittering lightning burning around them.

  “And may your love… be as eternal as the air we breathe.”

  I take a breath and blow gently over the rings. With the puff of air, the lightning fades, the raindrops disperse, and the rings lower to my palms.

  I take each one between my thumb and forefinger. “Please
hold out your hands, but stay very still.”

  Jordan and Sebastian do as I ask, and I carefully drop their rings into their palms, making sure I keep my distance as much as I can. I quickly step back, putting a large gap between us again. I’m vaguely aware that Reisha and my ladies are keeping a very close eye all around me. It makes me insanely happy to see that they haven’t taken their eyes off Teilo Splendor in the first row.

  After that, Jordan and Sebastian make their oaths and place the rings on each other’s fingers. They clasp hands. Normally, this is the part where I would place my hands over theirs, acknowledging them as now united. I can’t do that, but I hope that my gesture with the rings makes up for it.

  Instead of wrapping their hands between mine, I clasp my hands in front of me and declare, “You are married.”

  He kisses her without a moment’s hesitation and she returns his kiss, fresh tears sliding down her cheeks as they melt into each other. I tear away from their happiness and step out of the way, taking myself off to the side, guarded once more as guests move forward to congratulate them.

  Elise quickly joins me so I’m not alone inside the Storm Command’s protective circle and I appreciate her presence beside me.

  “They’ll tell stories about this,” she says with a warm smile. “Nobody’s marriage has been blessed by a Storm Princess before.”

  Sebastian and Jordan are truly happy. I’m glad Jordan will stay in the city until the final battle is over, but another big part of me wants her and Sebastian to run as far as they can away from it all. They don’t need death tainting their first days as husband and wife. “What happens now? I hadn’t thought past this moment,” I admit.

  “Food and dancing. You’ll need to stay for that, but we’ve set up a table over there so you can keep your distance from everyone.” Her lips thin in disapproval as she glares at Teilo Splendor.

  When she said I should keep my distance from everyone, she mostly means him. He’s the only member of the Elven Command who is present and I’m grateful for that. I couldn’t stand sharing this moment of happiness with all of those males. I want to ask Elise if she’s found out anything about recent deaths or the Command’s involvement in the curse, but I don’t want to taint the moment. It will be easier to talk in a sound bubble in my quarters.