I hadn’t taken more than three steps when I felt a sharp prickle reverberate through my skull. It began as little pinpricks that grew in intensity, becoming sharp daggers repeatedly pounding in my head. The pain was so intense, I couldn’t move. I could barely breathe.
Before me, Hendon broke off from his spell casting to laugh at my consternation. His momentary lapse gave me a brief moment to catch my breath and steel myself against further magic. I shook my golden head as if I could shake off the remnants of Hendon’s spell, and took another step.
And howled in excruciating pain. Hendon’s spell washed over me again as he redoubled his efforts. I roared in anger at the sky, and heard an answering, weaker roar —
— And I lifted myself from the pavement, dazed and much smaller than I remembered being. I had shifted back to my human self without conscious thought, perhaps as a defense mechanism against Hendon’s spell. The ruby circlet lay next to me in the dusty courtyard.
Looking up, I saw Hendon clutching his arm as he spat out a curse. The thin red line trickling from beneath his fingers told me that Joichan’s swipe had solidly connected. But my father, weak from loss of blood and Hendon’s offensive magic, wouldn’t be able to hold out much longer.
Hendon laughed at me lying on the pavement, just a few feet away from him. “Not only are you an abomination, you’re pathetic. Can’t even control your own abilities. Don’t worry; after I take care of your father, I’ll put you out of your misery.” He patted his sword menacingly, then focused on his necklace — and Joichan — again.
My head screamed in agony, and my vision wavered. Any movement made me want to throw up.
Without thinking, my right hand crept up to find my amber pendant. As I touched it, it grew warm and glowed bright, the magic inside it flowing through my fingers, up my arm, and into my head.
The pain throbbing behind my eyes eased somewhat. Enough that I could force myself to reach out with my other hand, close my fingers around the wedding crown, and sit up. I needed to stay upright, just for a moment. Long enough to do this.
I gripped the jeweled crown and sent my thoughts into it, as deep as I could, quicker than I had ever cast magic before. My soulstone kept the worst of the pain at bay as I concentrated on the crown.
Down, down, down I dove, hoping I would find what I needed before it was too late. And then, just when my magical strength was nearly spent, there it was!
Gripping my soulstone harder, I willed it to join its stored magic to my own ability. I would need every bit of magic I could muster.
I reached through the link that joined the ruby circlet to Hendon’s soulstone, and pulled.
My magical self flew backward, out of the crown. My actual self sailed through the air, landing in a heap on the cobblestones. The circlet flew through the air with me, shattering on the stones, bits of red stone flying everywhere.
Farrah ran over to me. “Princess Jennica!”
“I’m fine.” Actually, my head was splitting, made worse from the extensive use of magic. “Where’s my mother? What’s happened?”
Farrah helped me to my feet. She pointed. The battle seemed to be finished. The remaining guards had surrendered, their swords at their feet. The few soldiers who were loyal to my mother were gathering them up, aided by Beyan and Rhyss, who had their weapons trained on Hendon’s henchmen. Joichan rested on the cobblestones as my mother, unhurt and now freed, fussed over his wounds. Taryn was still sleeping on the dais. Prince Anders and his father fussed over the Rothschan queen, who kept fainting at all the goings-on.
And in the middle of it all was King Hendon, sprawled out on the ground with his hand clutching at his throat, not moving. The setting for his ruby pendant was empty; red fragments littered near his head attested to the broken jewel.
“It’s over,” Farrah said. “Good news: we’ve won.”
“Oh, great,” I said hazily. “That’s great. You know, I have the worst headache.”
And then I pulled a “Queen of Rothschan” and blacked out.
Chapter Forty-Five
I SLOWLY BLINKED MY eyes open. There was a concerned face hovering above me that looked at lot like Beyan. “Jennica? You’re awake!”
“Yes, that’s a very astute observation.” I tried for sarcasm, but my voice came out weak. Beyan rushed to help me as I struggled to sit up. I realized I was in a comfortable bed, in a well-appointed room — my private rooms, in the castle. “What are you doing in my room?”
“You really don’t remember anything?”
I frowned, trying to tease memory forth. The wedding... the fight in the courtyard... King Hendon.
“The king is dead.” The words felt funny on my tongue. Even though he wasn’t my true father, and we hadn’t had the best relationship, and he had tried to manipulate and hurt everyone I loved, I had grown up with him and should still mourn him. Right?
Beyan was oblivious to my private dilemma. “Yes, Hendon is dead. Those loyal to him are in the dungeon, awaiting the queen’s judgement. Princess Jennica, whatever you did — you saved us all. We were barely holding our own. You stopped the king.”
A perfunctory knock at my chamber door sounded before it opened. A young attendant poked her head in the doorway. “Her Majesty and the Dragon Consort are here to see you, Your Highness.”
I blinked. “Dragon Consort? Send them in.” I turned back to Beyan. “Did I... did I kill Hendon?”
My mother and father strode into my chamber.
“Not exactly,” Joichan said, overhearing my question. “From what I could tell, you destroyed the link between Hendon’s soulstone and the headpiece. Hendon was in the
