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“Help,” he answered laconically.
“Of course, but we are Spirits of the Light. We cannot help you seek revenge.”
“But you can help me find the Dark Prince. You can point the way,” Chance answered defiantly.
“No, we cannot. Your purpose forbids us.”
“My purpose is justice!” Chance snapped irritably.
“Your justice,” the disembodied voice answered softly.
“Would you have the devil’s evil loose in the world?” Chance shot back.
“Will you contain his evil or put him to death, Milesian?” After a slight pause, the voice then said, “Ah, we have our answer—it is there in your heart.”
“But … he will harm so many unless we put a stop to him!” Chance pursued.
“Fate is what it is—we don’t condone or aid the spilling of blood. Come to us for truth and light.”
And as gently as the spirits of the light arrived, they left.
Chance kicked at the fire and cursed harshly, “Hell bloody hell!”
“Come on—let’s get Red and figure something out …”
Chance eyed Trevor speculatively. “That is another thing. You say you loved my sister, yet you seem very … close to the wee princess. You call her Red and speak in intimate terms with great affection in your voice.”
Trevor snorted. “Royce?” He shook his head. “Royce is like a sister to me.” Trevor grinned. “We grew up together, and I think I have always called her Red, for her hair.”
Chance said nothing to this but looked around. “And where is the wee lass now?”
They looked back towards the lake and saw there a dark cloud hovering only a few feet over the grass but no sign of the princess!
* * *
Royce was in trouble, and she knew it.
Something had a hold of her, and although she tried, she couldn’t break free. Her Death Sword was thankfully within her sphere and easily called should she need it, but she was momentarily trapped in this thick, dark, damp cloud!
She looked around, and the only thing she was sure of was that black magic was at work—it was all around her.
She felt a stinging sensation as the mist drew her deeper inside and seemed to rise off, well off the ground with her. The Lower Lake below began to recede from her vision, and as she was drawn deeper into the dark cloud, she lost sight of it completely.
She was being sucked in by a force wrapped around her body like a second skin, and she had to acknowledge it was damned terrifying. Dark Magic of the basest kind had a hold of her as she tried to break free.
She spread her arms out and called on the elements, but a shield between her and the atmosphere outside the cloud interfered with the process.
What kind of black magic was this? She suddenly realized she had the power to shift out whenever she chose. However, she didn’t choose. She wanted to take this ride, test it, find out what it locked away, and perhaps gain a step up. Knowing Dark Magic was the way to defeat it …
Suddenly, two strong, tattooed arms enfolded her and molded her to a male body. She felt featherweight in his arms, and she knew … it was Pestale. He was holding her in his embrace, and his voice was wildly enticing as he whispered softly in her ear, “My very own Seelie princess …”
Okay, so not good. What exactly did he mean—his own Seelie princess? What was that all about? She was off the ground, high in the air, and floating around with the Dark Prince—not exactly a way to control him.
Could she kill him? Was she mentally and physically ready to unsheathe her sword and put him to death?
No. Chance had been correct, so correct, when he had told her she wasn’t a killer. She wasn’t—at least not yet. There was no telling what she would become when the need called.
However, she wasn’t prepared to kill just yet. There had to be more diplomatic ways to control the Dark Prince. There had to be. She would have to concentrate to get herself out of this without using violence.
