Read Online Alterant by Sherrilyn Kenyon, Dianna Love - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Sherrilyn Kenyon, Dianna Love
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at that slip.
Quinn was not part of her make-believe world. She couldn’t risk Flaevynn finding out what had happened between him and Kizira thirteen years ago.
To keep that secret safe, Kizira had to concentrate. Taking a few breaths, she slipped deeper into her imaginary world. She sharpened her focus and repeated silently that she cared only for protecting the Medb coven empire. Her greatest wish was to see Cathbad the Druid’s curseupon the Beladors come to fruition, for Kizira to hand her queen Treoir Island, the seat of Belador power.
That would be the curse uttered by the first Cathbad, who had lived two thousand years ago, not the current Cathbad sitting in the TÅμr Medb dungeon.
Flaevynn argued that it was not a curse upon the Beladors but a curse upon Medb queens and, granted, she had a valid point. As a result of the power behind the curse, each Medb queen lived only six hundred and sixty-six years.
Not a day more or less.
Flaevynn had railed endlessly about not knowing if Treoir would be captured during her life or the next Medb queen’s rule. The tightly guarded specifics of the curse had been passed down only from one Cathbad the Druid to another. Flaevynn’s anger had turned volcanic a year ago when the current Cathbad had once again refused to share what he’d known.
She’d imprisoned him until he’d agree to reveal all.
She wanted Treoir now, but the dangerous game she’d launched over the past few months to speed up a timeline set thousands of years ago tampered with fate.
Kizira would ruthlessly support Flaevynn’s drive to take Treoir and gain immortality for one simple reason—Kizira planned to take the Belador island and castle for herself. Gaining immortality, the Belador power, and all the Medb power before Flaevynn could do so was Kizira’s only hope for sliding out from beneath Flaevynn’s thumb and protecting those she loved . . . even the one who was her sworn enemy.
Two steps from the entrance to Flaevynn’s chamber, Kizira silently ordered the doors to open and passed through as they swung wide.
What a welcome relief to find the queen’s chamber free of naked men chained to her throne like rutting dogs waiting for her to demand service.
Queen Flaevynn stood to the side of the room with arms raised, chanting softly as she faced a towering wall of precious stones that formed a dazzling backdrop for the water cascading down. From diamonds to emeralds to rubies and not a stone smaller than Kizira’s fist. Light from a hundred tapered candles surrounding the room glanced off the sharp cuts and angles to send a kaleidoscope of color across Flaevynn’s pale skin, waist-length black hair and sheer iridescent gown.
Few women in this otherworld realm equaled her beauty, especially when the queen put to death any female who might.
When the chanting ceased, Kizira took a breath and prepared to face Flaevynn’s wrath for her failure, but the doors burst open.
Gruin, the ranking elder, barreled into the room, knee-length white hair flowing behind him, his grizzled face mottled with anger. “What’s this I hear of the myst being released?”
Flaevynn spun around on a bed of air. Purple eyes sparked with bright orange flames. “Take care with your tone, elder.” Shifting her gaze to Kizira, she demanded, “Why are you dressed like a common wench?”
Kizira didn’t see where her black jeans and deep bluesilk shirt were wench clothes, but she shrugged and answered, “I find it easier to move undetected through the human world when I wear their attire, Your Highness. I’m willing to dress however is necessary to serve you best.”
Gruin strode past where Kizira had paused two steps inside the chamber. He cast her a dark look, fingering her as the one who had actually released the sentient fog in the human world.
Like I have a choice when Flaevynn compels me, old man?
Dismissing Kizira with a jut of his bony chin, Gruin pulled up short in front of the queen’s throne.
Quinn was not part of her make-believe world. She couldn’t risk Flaevynn finding out what had happened between him and Kizira thirteen years ago.
To keep that secret safe, Kizira had to concentrate. Taking a few breaths, she slipped deeper into her imaginary world. She sharpened her focus and repeated silently that she cared only for protecting the Medb coven empire. Her greatest wish was to see Cathbad the Druid’s curseupon the Beladors come to fruition, for Kizira to hand her queen Treoir Island, the seat of Belador power.
That would be the curse uttered by the first Cathbad, who had lived two thousand years ago, not the current Cathbad sitting in the TÅμr Medb dungeon.
Flaevynn argued that it was not a curse upon the Beladors but a curse upon Medb queens and, granted, she had a valid point. As a result of the power behind the curse, each Medb queen lived only six hundred and sixty-six years.
Not a day more or less.
Flaevynn had railed endlessly about not knowing if Treoir would be captured during her life or the next Medb queen’s rule. The tightly guarded specifics of the curse had been passed down only from one Cathbad the Druid to another. Flaevynn’s anger had turned volcanic a year ago when the current Cathbad had once again refused to share what he’d known.
She’d imprisoned him until he’d agree to reveal all.
She wanted Treoir now, but the dangerous game she’d launched over the past few months to speed up a timeline set thousands of years ago tampered with fate.
Kizira would ruthlessly support Flaevynn’s drive to take Treoir and gain immortality for one simple reason—Kizira planned to take the Belador island and castle for herself. Gaining immortality, the Belador power, and all the Medb power before Flaevynn could do so was Kizira’s only hope for sliding out from beneath Flaevynn’s thumb and protecting those she loved . . . even the one who was her sworn enemy.
Two steps from the entrance to Flaevynn’s chamber, Kizira silently ordered the doors to open and passed through as they swung wide.
What a welcome relief to find the queen’s chamber free of naked men chained to her throne like rutting dogs waiting for her to demand service.
Queen Flaevynn stood to the side of the room with arms raised, chanting softly as she faced a towering wall of precious stones that formed a dazzling backdrop for the water cascading down. From diamonds to emeralds to rubies and not a stone smaller than Kizira’s fist. Light from a hundred tapered candles surrounding the room glanced off the sharp cuts and angles to send a kaleidoscope of color across Flaevynn’s pale skin, waist-length black hair and sheer iridescent gown.
Few women in this otherworld realm equaled her beauty, especially when the queen put to death any female who might.
When the chanting ceased, Kizira took a breath and prepared to face Flaevynn’s wrath for her failure, but the doors burst open.
Gruin, the ranking elder, barreled into the room, knee-length white hair flowing behind him, his grizzled face mottled with anger. “What’s this I hear of the myst being released?”
Flaevynn spun around on a bed of air. Purple eyes sparked with bright orange flames. “Take care with your tone, elder.” Shifting her gaze to Kizira, she demanded, “Why are you dressed like a common wench?”
Kizira didn’t see where her black jeans and deep bluesilk shirt were wench clothes, but she shrugged and answered, “I find it easier to move undetected through the human world when I wear their attire, Your Highness. I’m willing to dress however is necessary to serve you best.”
Gruin strode past where Kizira had paused two steps inside the chamber. He cast her a dark look, fingering her as the one who had actually released the sentient fog in the human world.
Like I have a choice when Flaevynn compels me, old man?
Dismissing Kizira with a jut of his bony chin, Gruin pulled up short in front of the queen’s throne.
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