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  Each of the flowers produced their own kind, but it was the bright yellow five-petal flowers in the castle garden that held the best of them. It was also why the castle garden was prohibited, and none other than the king himself were allowed to drink from them.

  Which would be why Plews sat atop the tallest flower, so while he drank, he could keep an eye out for the Pickrie guards who circled the garden every other hour.

  Tipping his head back, he poured a generous amount of the sticky liquid into his mouth, groaning as the flavor burst on his tongue.

  This is the life.

  Should he feel guilty that he was stealing from the garden? Perhaps, but to Plews, guilt was a useless emotion and one he’d no intention of letting settle into his gut for too long.

  If anyone should feel guilty, it’s the so-called king.

  The king who was supposed to be keeping the Pickrie people safe but was more interested in whoring himself out to all the women who looked his way. Plews led the army to Terrenia, freeing the Luxe king’s host, and what had he gotten in return for it?

  Nothing. Not one single thing.

  A purple light shot from the sky, and Plews ducked further down in his flower. The Sorceress’s husband stood just below him, making his way toward the garden center and the large golden fountain that stood there.

  Moments later, the Pickrie king waddled out, flanked by two Pickrie guards. “My king, I wasn’t expecting you tonight.”

  “No, I suppose you weren’t.” The disgust in his tone was evident even to Plews, who hid far enough away they couldn’t see him but close enough to hear what they were saying.

  “What can I do for you?”

  “Gather all your people. I wish to speak to you all.”

  “Yes, my king.” Leay bowed his head and turned to his guards. “You heard him, go wake the others.”

  Fear of being caught kept Plews where he was. Surely they wouldn’t miss one single Pickrie. Besides, he could hear what was said, which meant he could pretend he’d been there the entire time.

  Nestling down further into the flower, Plews covered himself with a petal to keep from being seen as the heavy fluttering of wings sounded above him. The vibrations from the thousands of Pickries arriving made him grin.

  There was nowhere else he wanted to be than right here. Why their king was bothering with other worldly matters, he didn’t know, but he did know that when the time came for another attack on Terrenia, it wouldn’t be he who volunteered to lead.

  Truthfully, he was growing weary of travel outside his home. He’d spent two years in the human world and experienced his fill of what it offered.

  The Pickries landed, creating a sea of golden skin and brightly colored wings below him. Plews stayed where he was, but leaned close enough to hear what the Sorceress’ husband had to say.

  He knew it wasn’t truly her husband, but he refused to call the thing ‘king.’ Plews only recognized one king, and King Leay had murdered him.

  “I am glad you all came,” the Luxe using the Sorceress’ husband said. “I have great news for you all.”

  “We are glad to hear it,” Leay responded excitedly. Plews rolled his eyes. Pathetic.

  The Luxe stepped toward the fountain and lifted his hands. Plews’ eyes widened as the water stopped spouting out of the flower on the top, and instead, the petals parted and a bright glowing pink light appeared just above it.

  “What are you doing?” Leay asked, panic making his voice shake.

  “I am honoring your world.”

  “That is our life core! You must leave it or we will perish!”

  “I know.” The Luxe raised his hands higher, and while Plews couldn’t see his face, he could make out the panic on Leay’s. “You will be my first, but your sacrifice will not be in vein.”

  “Stop him!” Leay screamed at his guards. They attacked, but when the light grew brighter, nearly too bright to stand, they screamed in agony, falling to their knees.

  Plews was helpless to do anything but watch as the light died out, settling into the Luxe’s body.

  “What have you done?” Leay screamed.

  “Now, it’s your turn.” The Luxe held up his hand, and the Pickries around him crumpled. Screams erupted amongst Plews’ people, and he watched as their golden-colored skin faded to a pale white, their eyes turning to mush in their heads before they crumpled to the ground below him.

  The flowers around Plews began to wither and die, turning black, and the petals he hid on began to slink, dropping him to the ground along with them.

  The Luxe turned toward him, and Plews was sure he’d been seen, but the Luxe only smiled, a chilling grin that didn’t fit the face he used.

  With a flash of purple, he was gone, leaving Plews alone in a rotting world.

  Rushing to his people, he gaped in horror at the open-mouthed expressions. They’d screamed, horrible, chilling screams, and Plews had been unable to stop it.

  “Hello!” he called, running through the dried corpses of his people. “Is there anyone there?”

  Small forms of their children—recently hatched from their mothers’ eggs—were withered just as the others, and it took him no longer than a few seconds to realize he was all alone.

  The grass below his feet turned black, rotting away before his very eyes, and Plews took flight for fear whatever it was would spread onto him.

  Tears slipped from his eyes, falling to the ground, as he watched the very place he’d loved more than any other wither and die in front of him.

  He ruined it! He’d killed them all!

  Horror quickly turned to rage, and Plews clenched his fists. He would not allow this to stand.

  “Plews?”

  Plews turned to see Marney floating just behind him, her eyes sheeny and full of tears that he imagined reflected his own.

  “What happened?” she asked, staring below.

  “He killed them all.”

  “Who?”

  “The Luxe.”

  Marney gasped, covering her face with her hands, and floated toward the ground.

  “No, stop!” Hurrying to her, he gripped her arm. “I don’t know what it will do to you if you touch it.”

  She stopped.

  “Is there anyone else left?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “I was late because I’d been—” Pink blush covered her cheeks. “I was hiding from King Leay.”

  “Why?”

  “He had been making advances, and I wouldn’t give in to them. I’m so ashamed. I should have been here.”

  Plews’ expression softened. “If you’d been here, you would’ve been killed.”

  “How did you survive?”

  “I fear it is shaming for me to admit, but I was drinking the nectar of the king’s flowers.”

  “It appears we both have things we feel ashamed for, but you are right. We survived because of those actions.”

  She looked back down at the world. “What are we going to do, Plews?”

  “We’re going to get revenge.”

  “But how?”

  “By going to the one person we know hates the Luxe as much as we do.”

  Her eyes widened. “You mean—”

  He nodded. “We are going to go see the Sorceress.”

  14

  Terrenia

  Anastasia

  Anastasia was packing the last of her things away into saddlebags when Tony stepped into the stable.

  She smiled at him even though it felt like there were rocks in her gut, and turned away from her horse to face him. He carried nothing with him, and Anastasia was prepared for him to refuse to go with her.

  If she were in his shoes, she wasn’t sure she could stand to see him die, and obtaining the power could very well mean she would do just that.

  “You’re really doing this, huh?” Folding his arms, he studied her.

  “I am.”

  “And you really think this is the only way to stop Thames and get Dakota back?”

 
“I really do.”

  Tony nodded, chewing on the inside of his cheek. “Then I’ll be coming with you.”

  Anastasia ran to him, throwing her arms around his shoulders. She hadn’t realized how badly she’d wanted him along until she’d believed he wasn’t going to come. In the last seven years, she’d never done anything without the man who’d become a father to her.

  This was no different, if she were marching to what could very possibly be the end of her life, she wanted him beside her.

  Selfish? Probably. But having him around put her at ease.

  Tony returned her hug. “I would follow you to the ends of the world, Anastasia. Right into the gates of hell, if necessary.”

  She looked up at him, tears in her eyes. “I know.”

  Tony released her. “My bags are outside. We can leave whenever you’re ready.”

  “Thank you.”

  Tony nodded. “I don’t believe we should pull any of the Fighters. If this goes south, I’d rather have as many here as possible.”

  “I agree.”

  A shrill scream pierced the peaceful laughing and daily sounds of the villagers, and Anastasia and Tony raced outside to find out what happened.

  Anastasia’s first thought was Thames had returned—but she quickly discovered she was wrong when two Pickries—one Anastasia recognized and one female she didn’t—stood, hands lifted in surrender at the gate.

  Fighters surrounded them, swords at the ready, but the Pickries didn’t fight back.

  “We’re here to speak with the Sorceress,” the Pickrie she recognized said.

  “We bring news of her husband,” the female said.

  Anastasia rushed forward, pushing past the Fighters. “What news?”

  “I want your word we will not be harmed.”

  “Depends on what you have to say,” Tony growled. “The last time you were here, you attacked.”

  “We are no longer working with the Luxe,” the female explained.

  “And you expect us to believe that?” Tony asked.

  “Do we have your word?” the male asked again, eyes never leaving Anastasia’s face.

  Slowly, she nodded. “We will not harm you unless you attack.”

  He breathed a sigh of relief. “The Luxe has destroyed our world.”

  “He did what?”

  “He stole our life core and drained my people—even the children. Marney and I are the only two of my kind alive.”

  Anastasia folded her arms, contemplating what he said. She knew they were running out of time, but she’d never considered he’d go after the other worlds first. It hadn’t even crossed her minds he’d want any world other than Terrenia.

  “This is bad,” Vincent muttered beside her. From the distracted looks of everyone around her, she guessed he’d made it so only she could see and hear him.

  “This is really bad,” she repeated.

  “We wish to join you in your fight against him,” Marney explained.

  “You think we will trust you? The last time we joined forces, you turned on us,” Tony accused.

  “That was before, when we were—whole,” the male Pickrie explained. “I am asking you to allow us to join your fight so we may have revenge for our people.”

  Anastasia studied the Pickrie. His eyes were swollen and full of unshed tears. The pain reflected in them could not be ignored, no matter how much she didn’t trust him. “What is your name?”

  He straightened. “I am Plews.”

  “Well, Plews.” Anastasia stuck her hand out. “Welcome to the fight.”

  Plews studied it a moment before reaching forward and taking her hand in his. “Thank you, Sorceress. We will not betray you.”

  “I certainly hope not. If you do, I will not hesitate to kill you both.”

  He bowed his head. “Understood.”

  “Watch them,” Anastasia said to the Fighters, then turned back to the stables.

  “You think they’re telling the truth?” Tony asked.

  “I think it’s too risky to believe they’re lying. But I have every intention of checking their story.”

  Once inside the barn, Anastasia waved her hand and conjured a portal to the Pickrie world. She and Tony stepped inside, and the stench of death immediately assaulted her nose. She bent over, heaving the bread she’d eaten before, and everything else in her stomach.

  Tony stood silently, rubbing a hand on her back until she straightened and covered her nose.

  “I’d say they’re telling the truth.”

  Anastasia had only ventured to the Pickrie world once before, but it was a place she wouldn’t have forgotten. The beauty of the world—with its skyscraper-height flowers and bright green grass—was something she remembered putting into direct contrast with the hearts of its traitorous occupants.

  Looking at it now, there was no resemblance to the place she remembered. Instead, the glass was black and muddy, having dissolved to nothing but mush. The flowers were all dead, fallen to the side and dissolved into nothing, clearing the way for her to see a large castle on the hill.

  Not being close enough, she couldn’t tell if the pale husks she saw in the distance were Pickrie or part of the landscape, but she no longer doubted the validity of Plews’ story.

  Thames had been here, and he’d stolen the life core.

  Tears sprang to her eyes. Was this what awaited Terrenia? Would he not only destroy her home, but drain her people of their life force as well?

  “We will stop this bastard, Anastasia.”

  Unable to form a sentence, she simply nodded and stepped back into the portal.

  15

  Terrenia

  Anastasia

  Marching through the stables and out to Plews when her legs felt like jelly was a feat, but one she managed quickly. If Thames was already stealing the life cores from other worlds, it meant they had less time than she’d originally considered—and she’d never thought they had much time to begin with.

  “When did this happen?” she asked the wide-eyed Pickrie.

  “Late last night. We spent the morning searching for any other survivors.”

  “And how are you two the only ones who survived?”

  “I was hiding from the king,” Marney explained.

  “Why?” Tony asked.

  “He has—had—a taste for our women, whether they were willing or not.” Plews’ voice was less melodic as he answered, and Anastasia caught the sorrowful glance he gave to Marney. One point for you, Pickrie. “As for me, I was hiding in the castle garden drinking nectar from a king’s flower.”

  “Did you watch everything that happened?”

  “Yes.” His eyes filled with the sheen of tears, and Marney touched his shoulder gently. “I saw it all.”

  “But you didn’t try to stop him?” Tony’s voice was anything but kind—not that Anastasia could blame him—but having the Pickries’ help added two more to their side, even if the bastards didn’t have the best track record.

  Plews’ eyes narrowed on Tony’s face. “How would you have proposed I do that, Fighter? Fly down there and let him pluck me from the sky as he did my brothers and sisters?”

  Marney placed her hand on Plews’ shoulder again.

  Tony’s face softened. “I meant no disrespect, simply trying to paint a picture of what happened.”

  “Why would you wish to paint a picture of it?” Marney asked, tears spilling from her eyes.

  “It’s a figure of speech,” Plews explained. “I learned it when I spent time in the human world.”

  “Think you can trust them?” Vincent appeared beside Anastasia.

  She shrugged, not wanting to answer when no one else could see him.

  “What’s our next move?”

  Anastasia folded her arms. “We need to move to protect Terrenia’s life core, but if he’s going after the other worlds, they need to be warned as well.”

  “Agreed.”

  “Where was your life core kept?” Anastasia asked. “It’s po
ssible ours would be in a similar location.”

  “In the fountain beside our castle,” Plews answered. “Only a small group of elders knew its location, passing the information down to the next generation just before they returned to the ground.”

  “So, you had people who knew where it was?”

  “Yes. Don’t you?”

  Before Anastasia could answer, she felt a soft hand on her shoulder and turned to face Zarina. “We need to speak.”

  Nodding, Anastasia turned back to the Pickries. “Stay on the ground,” she warned before leaving with Zarina.

  She followed the village’s tattoo artist and elected leader into her cabin, surprised to see the four elected elders waiting for her.

  “We wish to know what your plan is, Sorceress,” the oldest of the group—Harold—asked. He’d never been a fan of hers, even from the very beginning when she’d first arrived. The man was distant with the other villagers—almost hermit-like—and very rarely ventured out of his home. He’d also made it well known how much he despised her power, and how he’d believed she was ‘nothing more than a little girl playing with magic she couldn’t possibly comprehend.’

  “I am going to be sure the other worlds are warned of Thames’ plan to steal their life cores.”

  “And you believe this is his plan, why?” Harold asked.

  Anastasia took a deep breath and reminded herself to stay calm. When she’d spoken with Zarina and convinced the woman to kick her out when Rosabel was an active threat, Harold had been all too excited to get rid of her. The fact that she was back must’ve really grated on his nerves.

  “The Pickries arrived this morning.” Something you must already know if you’ve called me here. “They warned us that Thames stole their life core and destroyed their world.”

  He raised a grey, bushy eyebrow. “And you believe them? Did they not turn on you in Seattle two years ago?”

  “I portaled to their world minutes after they told me. Tony and I saw the damage ourselves.”

  “Ah.” Harold leaned back in his chair. This was the longest interaction she’d ever had with the elders—specifically him—although she’d heard how much he loved to interrogate. “So, you used your magic to aid the traitorous Pickries.”