I heard shouts and a triumphant war cry behind me as the gates finally finished opening and a white stallion charged past me. Declan Raingate, Uncle Gabriel’s captain of the guard, brandished his sword and led the way. I saw a myriad of colors and crests: the Rothguards, Greystones, Foxmoors, Hartfields, and others I didn’t recognize. The great noble houses of Eldoren were fighting together with the Silverthornes in service to their one true king. Once they knew their children were safe, they joined together to eliminate Delacourt. The Silverthorne army spilled inward into the outer bailey and a raging battle began.
I fought beside Rafe, my sword flashing as we tore a path through the enemy soldiers. Magic sizzled around me as I held a shield around us both, cutting and slashing as we tried to find Brandon. Slowly the intensity of the fighting lessened, and I heard Captain Raingate’s voice over the crowd shouting orders to his soldiers. The last of Delacourt’s remaining guards and archers laid down their weapons, surrendering Caeleron Castle to Rafe.
A crowd had gathered in the middle of the main bailey as Rafe and I made our way forward. “What’s all the commotion about?” Rafe asked as Eldorean soldiers made way for their king.
The ground before us was strewn with blood and grime, which wasn’t surprising given the battle we had just finished. But what was even less surprising was Tristan standing over a cowering Brandon Delacourt, his flaming sword at his throat, while the last four Drakaar lay strewn in the dirt around them, heads severed from their bodies.
Rafe raised an eyebrow as he took in the scene before him and gave me a quick glance. “Well, I, for one, am glad the dark prince is on our side.”
I smiled. “Me too.”
Captain Raingate came forward, taking Brandon Delacourt into custody.
Tristan moved toward him, his swords still flaming in his hands. “I can execute the traitor right now.”
But Rafe stepped between them. “No! Put him in the dungeons. He will be tried by the council.”
“He is a traitor. The only punishment is death,” Tristan growled. “Why wait?”
Rafe looked at me and smiled. “He really likes using his swords, doesn’t he?”
I chuckled. Tristan huffed and sheathed his swords, leaving Brandon to Captain Raingate, who took him away to the dungeons.
“That was quite a feat you and your fae prince pulled off there, Aurora,” said Rafe unexpectedly. “Thank you for your help. But I would appreciate it if you could ask your dragon to take a nap somewhere else.” He lowered his voice, just in case Abraxas could hear us. Which, in fact, he could, but Rafe didn’t know that. “He’s making my men nervous.”
My eyebrows rose as I surveyed the courtyard. Rafe was right. Abraxas had actually seated himself in the middle of the castle courtyard and proceeded to take a nap. I knew he wasn’t asleep, but the guards and soldiers scurried around him as they went about their jobs, one eye fixed on the massive, scaly body that seemed to have taken residence in the outer bailey of Caeleron Castle.
I rolled my eyes and smiled ever so slightly as I tried to hold back laughter. “I’ll see what I can do,” I offered and strode forward to speak to the ancient dragon.
One big eye opened, the color of burnt honey. The dragon’s amethyst scales glistened in the noonday sun as I approached. I was right—he wasn’t asleep, just enjoying scaring the life out of the palace guards.
I put my hand on his snout. “Thank you for everything you have done.”
“I am at your service, Dawnstar,” said the ancient voice in my head. “But I fear a malignant presence in the castle. You must leave soon.”
“I will,” I agreed. “As soon as we get Rafe crowned as King of Eldoren. We still need their army if we are going to defeat Morgana.”
“Be careful,” said the great dragon, and much to the horror of everyone around us, Abraxas got up, roared, and bounded into the sky.
The Rightful King
The coronation was a grand affair as coronations usually are, and it was held in the ancient throne room at Caeleron Castle, where all the kings and queens of Eldoren had been crowned since the days of Dorian the First. The great hall had been repaired with a little help from Penelope and me. For now, glamour held it together, but it would eventually have to be fixed the traditional way.
Nobility from all over the kingdom had gathered, dressed in their finery. Voluminous skirts in silks and satins, swirled with vibrant colors and embroidered with gold and silver thread, attached to bodices studded with pearls and precious stones. I looked around at the throng of bodies and happy, smiling faces. Each one of these people had been willing to go against their king, and there were very few who had actually helped him. The nobility of Eldoren were fickle at the best of times, putting their own interests above the good of the kingdom. And without Silverthorne here to help and advise, Rafe was going to have his work cut out for him.
I stood on the side of the dais near the throne along with Penelope and Tristan. I had glamoured myself some suitable clothes for the coronation: a demure dress of creamy satin, lightly adorned with snowy pearls on the neckline and waist and along the edges of the long bell sleeves. I wore a delicate pearl and diamond tiara that Rafe had sent for me to wear during the coronation.
Brandon was in the dungeons where he belonged, but Lilith had disappeared. Calisto’s broken body was found in the east wing of the castle, devoid of life. Lilith could now be anywhere—or anyone. Tristan, Penelope,
