Deep breath in. Cookie anchored a rope around her waist and gave the dangly end to Pearl Jean. She pictured the spot she wished to land and stretched out her arms. As her audience of one oohed and ahhed, she grew vines from both hands, the stalks linking together in the center of the room, several feet from the coffee table. This time she wasn’t pulled through it. She’d gained too much control for that. If Kaysar had compelled her to stay away? Big deal.
“Do not let go of the rope until we’ve arrived,” she instructed.
As soon as her friend offered assurances, Cookie inhaled...and walked through with Pearl Jean remaining close behind. Suddenly, the castle filled her vision. The room with the permanent doorway, aged stone walls and—“Amber?”
“About time,” the oracle cried, rushing over.
The rope fell from Cookie as they embraced, clinging to each other.
Being welcomed by a friend who’d missed her... Nothing had ever felt as amazing as this. Well, except being with—no one of importance. Anyway. Moving on.
“I’m so happy to see you,” Cookie said, a catch in her voice. “I missed you terribly.”
“Trust me, I missed you, too. Everyone missed you. Kaysar has never been more...Kaysar.”
Even his name caused her pulse to flutter. “Spill the tea and make it hot. Tell me everything that’s happened.”
“I will. But first things first.” Amber straightened and smiled at Pearl Jean. “So lovely to see you again, Pearl Jean.”
Duh! Introductions.
“Again?” her friend asked, confused. “Either I have Alzheimer’s or you’re the seer Cookie mentioned. I think the little brat referred to you as her first non-geriatric confidant.”
“That’s me.” The oracle returned her attention to Cookie and motioned to a teapot she’d placed on a rock. “Now, your tea.”
“That’s not what I meant. Oh, never mind. Tell me about Kaysar.”
“Well, upon your departure, he summoned his army, stopping an invasion of Micah’s trolls. Kaysar has held off those forces from the front line ever since. No one has been able to bypass him to breach the fortress. You can watch the battle from any balcony, and I highly recommend you do.” A dreamy smile spread. “Trolls are surprisingly...handsome. So many muscles await your viewing pleasure.”
Pearl Jean snagged a beer from her bag, saying, “Don’t mind me. I’m absorbing the conversation. But if you want to repeat that part about the trolls, I wouldn’t mind a second listen.”
“Why is Kaysar protecting the fortress? For me?” Cookie asked Amber. To give it back to her? Had he realized... I don’t care, I don’t care, I don’t care. The answer wouldn’t make a difference.
The seer folded her lips between her teeth and shook her head. “No. Sorry. He issued orders that you aren’t to be harmed, because you are his enemy. He’s protecting the fortress for himself.”
The opposite of what she’d hoped—er, expected to hear. Cookie cleared her throat, swallowing a barbed lump. Seemed she hadn’t destroyed Kaysar’s vengeance, after all. She’d simply given him a new target, exactly as Micah had predicted.
“You were right to ditch him, hon.” Pearl Jean belched in her hand. “Let’s find you a new beau. I think I recall the seer mentioning something about muscles?”
Cookie pasted an unconcerned grin on her face. “Before I get my friends settled and kick off my takeover, I gotta know. Who are you siding with? Kaysar? Or your beloved queen?”
“Both.” Amber gave a weary sigh. “I told him how badly he’d handled things with you, and he banished me from his presence forever. Or until he needs me again. Whichever comes first. With your return, he’ll definitely need me. I’ve seen the twisty road ahead. For once, he’s without a map.”
Well. “Like I said, I’ve got a lot to do today. If I’m going to watch the battle, I should change.” She had the perfect outfit in mind...
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
KAYSAR RAKED HIS claws over troll after troll. The female who’d taken everything from him had returned, just as Eye had predicted. Thanks to his oracle, Chantel’s image was imprinted on his mind. She’d come through the permanent doorway, wearing clothing similar to what she’d worn the day they met.
He dispatched his next opponent. He didn’t care about the princess’s arrival. She’d stolen his future. The one he’d begun to envision. She’d killed his vengeance, ensuring there was no one to punish for his sister’s loss...other than himself. The pain—never—went—away.
He hated his pink-haired queen. But he loved her, too.
He slew another troll, and another. Still another. He’d gone too long without seeing Chantel. Too long without scenting or touching her. Without anticipating the gown she’d donned, or witnessing her brilliance in action as she dealt with her foes. Without cuddling her, or speaking secrets with her, or plunging inside her, or kissing every inch of her, or yelling at her, or challenging her, or begging for her forgiveness, or demanding she explain herself to his satisfaction, or luxuriating in her adoring gaze, and he was breaking inside. One day he feared he might shatter into too many pieces to ever fit back together.
How was he supposed to live this way for an eternity? How could Chantel have done what she did? He’d finally gained the life he’d never known he needed, and with a single act, she’d ruined everything.
She must pay.
Slash. Jab, jab. Duck and spin. Slash. Two trolls dropped. Had Chantel paid already? Had she paid enough? She’d been so weak when he’d pushed her through the doorway. Where had she ended up? If someone had harmed her...
He shook his head, pretending he hadn’t considered following her through the doorway countless times. No. Eye had also assured him Chantel’s safety was never at risk—only her heart.
With a roar, he massacred another dozen trolls. He could have sung, but he had no desire to end the fight too soon. Grunts, groans and cries of agony rang out, creating the perfect melody. The stench of death saturated the air, as heavy and as cloying as a thick morning mist.
“You know she is returned, yes?” The question came from Jareth, who fought at his side.
He’d freed the prince from his shackles the day Chantel had left Astaria, but the annoying male had followed him around like a bad habit ever since. Although, he supposed Jareth wasn’t a prince anymore, now that his father was dead. The male was to be crowned the sovereign ruler of the Winter Court.
“Leave before I give you the troll treatment,” Kaysar snapped. Two other bodies toppled.
The fool stabbed a troll of his own. “You should apologize to her.”