AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“No thanks to my father and brother, but I am very much alive,” Guinevere said.
Her aunt looked at her, taking in the robes, the owl.
“When the High Priestess Merlin died, she appointed me her successor,” Guinevere explained, seeing her aunt’s gaze.
My eyes widened, but I said nothing. It made a great deal of sense.
Guinevere looked at me. “They cannot touch us here,” she murmured. “Not on this island of Avalon. The seat of the goddesses’ power. Where this temple should never, ever have been built.”
“Be that as it may.” Lady Marjolijn’s face was returning to its hardened set. “The Three have no place here, Guinevere. The terms have been set. Pendrath will capitulate and comply in every way.”
Guinevere remained unruffled. She reached a hand up to gently stroke the head of the owl on her shoulder.
Two huge shadows swooped overhead.
A cry went up as the beating of wings filled the air.
I looked up. Two colossal battlecats, their enormous wings casting vast shadows, were descending upon the temple grounds.
Across the river, the gathered onlookers gazed in awe. Whispers of shock and fear rippled through the crowd of soldiers.
And then, from across the river, the armies of Tintagel and Lyonesse began to stir and shift.
A second horde of troops was marching in from behind.
Fae soldiers resplendent in armor of deepest black, regal gold, and emerald green marched in unison until they completely encircled the Lyonesse and Tintagel forces, then came to a halt.
The air seemed to crackle with tension as the two armies faced one another.
My mate stepped forward.
“Lady Marjolijn,” he called, as he came to stand at my side. “I believe Morgan Pendragon was far too modest when she introduced herself to you a moment ago.”
His deep, resonant voice carried easily and could be heard by all.
The three monarchs turned back towards the temple, their eyes on us once again.
“She was born a Pendragon, it is true,” my mate continued. “But she has taken on other names since then. Among them, first and foremost, the title of Empress of Myntra. She is also my wife. I stand before you, Prince Kairos Draven of the Royal House Venator of the Siabra Court of Umbral Flames.”
A murmur went up amongst the three monarchs as they took in his height, his breadth, his horns.
“And these soldiers,” Lady Marjolijn said, gesturing to the army which stood behind her own. “They are hers, I presume?”
“They are,” Draven said easily. “As are these impressive creatures you see by her side.”
As if to reinforce things, Nightclaw let out a loud growl that echoed across the river.
“Exmoors, I believe they are called,” Lady Marjolijn said a little begrudgingly. But there was keen interest in her eyes. Had she, too, perhaps once read a tome of magical creatures beneath her bed, before she became the formidable lady I now saw before me?
“The forces you see behind you are only a small taste of what the empire of Myntra has to offer,” Draven said.
Lady Marjolijn sniffed. “In other words, you back your wife with your realm.”
“My wife backs herself with her own realm. I am merely thankful to be by her side,” Draven answered.
“Negotiations are back on the table, I suppose,” Lady Marjolijn said, looking at me.
I nodded. “Indeed, I believe they are.”
