Long Live the Elf Queen: The Elf Queen Book 2
Long Live the Elf Queen: Chapter 37

Layala ground her teeth at the condemnation. These people were going to be upset soon. The booing changed to the thousands of dragon shifters shouting, “Yoren! Yoren! Yoren!” rising up like a storm cloud on rushing wind. The wailing and screeching Piper talked about was muffled and its origins indecipherable but nearby. Layala narrowed her eyes against the glaring sun trying to focus on Prince Yoren. The scepter hung just below his throat. Thane lifted his left hand, and the force of his magic coated the air like a bitter tang… yet nothing happened.

Prince Yoren held up his arm showing his right bracer and smiled. “Nice try.” They shield against magic then?

A low growl rumbled in Thane’s chest. “I guess I won’t be searing his brain until he surrenders. I don’t know how effective those bracers will be against you, however. Let’s replace out.” Thane stepped to the right, and Layala moved to the left, circling him, surveying his stance, the way he moved.

Prince Yoren’s dark eyes followed Layala. Did that mean he saw her as the bigger threat or wanted to take out the weakest first? She didn’t wait to see. The magic burning inside Layala’s body rushed out like a wave. Her vines grew twisting around Prince Yoren’s legs—and held. Thane struck quick and hard. Prince Yoren twisted and blocked the blow with his ax and a blast of red light shot from the end of it and hit Thane’s chest with a pop. Thane flipped end over end until he landed on the ground at least twenty feet away.

Layala swung and connected with his sword. His ax came down a beat later, smashing into her shield. The hit vibrated up her arm and stung all the way to her shoulder and sent her stumbling back. Shit. Numbness took over her shield hand. It hit the dirt and she kicked it aside. He was strong, much stronger than she anticipated. No one had ever hit her that hard. It was like the force of a lightning strike.

Vines snapped and broke with a single hack of his ax, and he was free.

Stomping toward her with a sneer of disgust and fury, he said, “You die first, elf witch.”

Where did the hate come from? She supposed there was no room for leniency now. Layala lowered her chin and gripped her sword in both hands. “Come and try.” Layala inhaled and imagined her vines punching free. The roar of them bursting through the ground rivaled the crowd. One pointed end shot straight at his chest, hit like a hammer, and slammed him on his back into the dirt. He grunted and cut it off like the head of a snake and rolled onto his feet in one swift move. That hit didn’t even hurt him?

Thane sprinted across the arena with a war cry, jumped up with his swords overhead and hacked down at the dragon. He was met with crossed weapons, but Thane’s blow sent Prince Yoren staggering. Thane slashed at his opponent with wild fury, the speed of his swords blurred and the clank of metal on metal punched like rapid drumbeats. Prince Yoren hissed in pain as Thane’s blade slashed across his chest, leaving a slice in his dragon scales from left shoulder to right peck. The crowd grew louder, more vicious.

Layala raced to get behind him. Thane had Prince Yoren on the defense, ready to fall. Suddenly the ground dropped out beneath her, and she was falling. She clawed, nails scraping the dirt rising around her until she hit the ground—hard, crashing onto her side. The impact made it hard to draw in breath. A screeching wail pierced her ears. Her head snapped up in time to see jagged talons slash across her arm, leaving rakes in the armor and slicing into her skin. Layala hissed, holding in a wail and punched the point of her sword at a small dragon the size of a wolf—no, it was different from a dragon. Its front legs were connected to its wings, a green wyvern. It dodged her blow and hissed sticking out a long snakelike tongue then stood up on scaly hind legs, making it loom ten feet tall. Another scurried out from the shadows, and then another. Maker above, there were three in this pit. Her boot slammed into its gut, and she swung hard and fast, slicing through its membranous wing, and its paw. It screeched, flailing around, splattering bright-green blood across Layala’s chest. It spilled into her wounded left arm and burned like acid. Shit, that hurts! She furiously wiped the blood until the other two screamed so high and loud her eardrums throbbed. Forget this. She raised a hand and a vine shot out of it. One end wrapped around her wrist and the other hooked onto the opening above and she pulled herself up and out. Three wyverns burst out of the pit after her, soaring into the air, flying around erratically.

But they were just a distraction. A dagger stuck out of Prince Yoren’s ribs, and a line of red dripped down his scales. His left wing had a three-inch tear in the membrane, and Thane hardly appeared winded as they circled one another. No one matched the Warrior King in one-on-one combat. Thane would pick him apart… So why hadn’t he shifted yet? And why hadn’t Thane taken him down?

Two of the wyverns circling above took a sudden downturn and darted toward Thane and Prince Yoren while the third dove at her, wings pinned to his back, wicked jaws snapping. She cringed at the white foam bubbling out of the sides of his mouth and his black wagging tongue. Were these things diseased? Layala waited until the beast was seconds from slamming into her and then dove. It crashed into the dirt and skidded into a roll. Feet carrying her like the wind, Layala drew up her sword and drove it straight down through the back of the wyvern. It clawed at her blade, hissed, and howled a moment but swiftly went limp.

She whirled around to Thane fighting off the other two at his back, and Prince Yoren, swinging weapons at his front. The wings of one cracked and buckled under the invisible force of Thane’s magic. The yowl coming from that thing’s mouth chilled her to the core. Prince Yoren’s swords still came at him with rapid speed. But Thane bent and weaved like it was a dance he knew well, avoiding every one of their strikes with ease. A quick swing of his sword caught the remaining hovering wyvern in the mouth, slicing off his snout and it crumpled to the ground, dead. For a moment, Layala watched, mouth hanging ajar. It wouldn’t matter how many years she trained. She’d never actually best him. Only if he allowed it. His gift was the sword, and he was the harbinger of death.

With a pounding heart, she rushed forward. Thane was trying not to kill Prince Yoren, she realized, or this would be over already. Layala’s power whipped out, a vine sprang up from the ground behind Prince Yoren and circled around his neck. He dropped both weapons and clutched at it as he was yanked into a backbend. Thane reached forward; he was inches from grabbing the scepter. Then Prince Yoren exploded; his flesh expanded, filling the space with his dragon form a hundred feet high. That scepter now out of reach, dangling seventy feet in the air. Smoke roiled out of his nostrils, and he lowered his wide chin. Two eight-foot horns grew out the top of his head and one centered on his nose. His jaws opened wide, and the burst of his roar sent Layala scrambling for her shield.

The crowd absolutely lost it. If she thought they were loud before, they may as well have whispered.

He took a huge intake of air, and a chill ran down Layala’s spine. She knew what came next. She slid her hand through the loop and lifted the shield. Thane crashed into her, driving her hard to the right until they hit the ground and rolled over and over. The heat of the fire blast melted the shield where she dropped it several yards away. Thane’s weight on top of her made it difficult to breathe.

“I didn’t trust that shield,” Thane said, shoving up and bringing her up with him. “Thankfully.”

The metal shield was nothing but a shiny pile of goo melting into the sand now. Layala gulped. “Holy Maker.”

“I’ll distract him. You get onto his back and get that scepter,” Thane said and sheathed both his swords. He snatched two throwing stars from her belt and took off before she could even muster a response. Maker above, he was infuriating sometimes.

Two wyvern screeches came from the hole again and moments later they burst free. Maker, more of these things?

Prince Yoren’s massive tail whooshed through the air, careening toward Thane. He dropped onto his belly and it sailed right over him… but it came for her now skidding across the ground flinging up dirt. Shit. Layala pumped her arms and legs, running straight at the arena wall. The dragons above chanted, “Kill her! Kill her! Kill her!” They leaned over the railing, waiting to see if she’d be squashed.

If they survived this, nothing would scare her. Layala clenched her teeth together hard, ran up the wall, pushed back and flipped over the tail. She landed in a squat, one fist on the ground, then Prince Yoren’s tail crashed. The impact rumbled the arena and cracked the stone all the way to the railing. The frenzied crowd screeched their obscenities and continued to chant, “Kill her”. One dragon shifter fell over the barrier and into the arena. The two green wyverns dropped into dives and descended on the male and started tearing into his flesh before he could shift. He screamed and then they tore out his throat. With their talons lodged into his back they lifted and then dropped him from a hundred feet where he hit with a sickening thud. The crowd loved that.

Layala shook her head and jumped up, letting her vines grow rampant, allowing her magic to assume control. Vines cracked the ground open and appeared mid-air, wrapping around Prince Yoren’s wings, cinching them together like a vice. He roared and tossed his head wildly, reared up and clawed at the vines attacking him. Layala jumped onto a growing stalk and rose into the air, hair whipping behind her with the speed of ascent. Come on, come on. Closer. Her magic curved and brought her straight over Prince Yoren’s spine. With a deep breath, she dropped onto the back of Prince Yoren’s scaly neck and gripped one of his horns. Hold on! The dragon prince bucked and jerked around trying to shake her free. The slashes in her arm burned with her effort to stay on and bled even more. He pitched hard right; Layala cursed, and her feet slipped out from under her. She dangled a hundred feet high. Thane looked small from here and oh, Maker, the height made her dizzy. Her vines curled around her waist then hooked around the horn, securing her to Prince Yoren.

A roar of pain ripped from Prince Yoren and his giant paws clawed at his face. Blood oozed out of his eye where one of the throwing stars embedded. Thane screamed, “Now Layala!”

A door in the arena wall opened and three massive gray wolves came out of the shadows, larger than the wyverns and more viscous. Their snapping jaws and snarls strangled her chest as they sprinted at Thane’s back. “Behind you!” she shouted.

He turned, drawing out his sword, and Layala moved faster. He couldn’t be left to fight them and the dragon at once. With a vine wrapped around her wrist, she jumped over the side and swung down under his neck. The scepter dangled there, ripe, and ready for the taking. She reached out with one hand, and it spun away with his jerky movement. Shit, shit shit.

She watched Thane take down one wolf with a sword through its chest and the other crumpled under with his magic. Prince Yoren still stomped and wailed about in pain, swiping at the throwing star embedded in his eye. His giant tail struck out and smashed Thane and the last wolf, sending them flying. He hit hard against the arena wall with a crack and fell face-first into the dirt. Then Prince Yoren charged for him.

“No!” Layala cried. She had to get the scepter before he could reach Thane. “Get up!” she screamed. The momentum of Prince Yoren’s forward motion swung her back toward the scepter again. She reached for it with one arm and held onto her vine with the other. She couldn’t miss this time. So close! The golden rod spun in a circle until it slammed into her chest, and she grabbed hold. Her vines curled around the chain, and it snapped. Holy Maker above, I have the scepter!

Her magic controlled her descent until her feet hit the ground in front of Prince Yoren, blocking his path. She took several steps to the left, drawing Prince Yoren’s attention away from Thane. She raised the scepter with both hands over her head. It was as long as her torso and heavy.

Prince Yoren heaved deep breaths. One eye bled over his shining silver scales and dripped onto the dirt ground. Layala turned to make sure Thane was breathing. He slowly pushed up to his hands and knees. Thank the Maker.

The crowd went silent, the breeze and the call of the vultures loud. In this land, that was the sound of triumph for the elves. She grinned and turned in a half circle showing everyone that she beat the dragon and held the scepter proudly. Take your red rose petals and shove them up your ass. The deep rumble of a dragon’s throat made Layala whirl around, clutching the scepter to her chest. Prince Yoren’s one good eye pinned on Thane. He lowered his head and opened his jaws wide; immense teeth gleamed in the sunlight. He growled and sucked in a massive breath, the kind of inhale that would release armor-melting fire.

She gasped. Ronan said they only had to get the scepter. This should be over. She didn’t think. She just ran and stood firm on the path to block Thane.

As if in slow motion, a mass of orange flames burst from the dragon’s mouth. She slammed her eyes shut. Thane’s beautiful face flashed across her mind, smiling, and laughing. When he was truly happy, he had the best laugh, the kind that drew others in and made them want to laugh too. Could his promise to replace her in every life be true? Would he replace her again in another time? Looking back, she and Thane locked eyes. He reached toward her from his knees. “No, Layala run!”

NO.

No. She was Layala Lightbringer; the blood of the gods ran through her veins. Lay down and die? Never. She thrust out her free hand and roared with the fury of the dragon’s fire that careened toward her. Her body felt ablaze, not with the dragon’s breath but with the might of the sun. The squall of blazing orange flames arched around her the same way water spread around rock. It crackled and sizzled, deafening in its violent assault, but she felt none of the scorch.

Somewhere in the distance, Thane bellowed her name, a heartbreaking cry that said he thought she was gone, but she’d conjured a protective shield of some kind. Her brows furrowed. Somewhere deep down she knew she was capable of this, but how could it be? It wasn’t vines and lilies protecting her but an invisible force more powerful than flame and fury. Touch it, something seemed to say. Slowly, she reached forward with her fingertips as the assaulting fire hammered. Fingers brushed against the shield. It was no hotter than the air she breathed. Her magic hummed with an uncomfortable intensity. Instinct said to place her palm flat against it. Unafraid, she did. The shield curled forward, and a bright, white light burst into an explosion that rocked the ground. The combined force of her newfound power and the fire, burst and crashed into Prince Yoren. With a keening yelp, his colossal form hurtled backward. He flailed until his head slammed into the arena’s stone wall. He didn’t get up.

Goddess of war indeed. She grew a slow, almost maniacal smile. Thane was right all along. They should fear her. All of them. A swell of pride bubbled in her. She took down a dragon. Where had this power come from?

A wild mane of dark hair and the terrified face of her lover appeared before her. Thane grasped at her shoulders then her face as if he couldn’t believe she stood before him. The sorrow melted into disbelief, and he pulled her into his chest. “I thought you were dead. I thought—how did—what—” he stumbled over his words like a child learning to speak.

She couldn’t explain what she did, so she slowly shook her head with her jaw hanging open.

With a sigh of relief, Thane grabbed her face between his dirty, gritty palms and kissed her hard on the mouth. “I love you. I love you.” He kept repeating between kisses. “Don’t ever scare me like that. Don’t you dare leave me.” A salty dampness from his face rubbed off onto hers.

“I’m still here.” Somehow. She smiled up at Thane and wiped a tear from his cheek with her thumb. It was in that moment, the silence around them invaded. Her gaze swept across the arena where ten thousand dragon shifters watched.

Ronan leapt over the ledge from the canopied area he sat in with his royal parents and Piper and dropped to the ground. He marched toward them with determination. His silvery-blond hair waved behind him as regal as any cloak. Layala tensed, gripping the scepter tighter. It was hers, fair and square. She didn’t expect applause when they defeated the dragon prince, but silence was worse than boos and jeers.

Prince Yoren’s dragon morphed into his human form, and he groaned, clutching at the back of his head. At least he wasn’t dead. Maybe that was what the crowd waited to see. But still only the caw of crows, squawk of vultures, and Ronan’s heavy footfalls broke the quiet.

Ronan stopped before Thane and Layala. He looked back and forth between them and then lowered to one knee. No praise left his lips, but the gesture said more than words.

Layala gripped Thane’s hand. She didn’t know what she expected but it wasn’t that.

Soon, many in the stands sunk to their knees, like a wave they caught on. Thane squeezed her hand back, keeping her steady. His head turned, taking it all in. The red canopy shielding the king and queen from the bright sun, snapped in the wind. The queen smiled and lowered to her knees and the king followed.

“They’re—they’re,” she could hardly believe what played out before her very eyes, “kneeling to us. The entire dragon court.”

Thane cleared his throat. “I believe they’re kneeling to you.”