“Let them go.” An orange aura of flame enveloped her from head to toe.
She snapped a man in half who dived at her, his body sliding in two charred pieces across the pavement.
The queen backed up a step, whispering some incantation under her breath.
That whisper, that inner secret sprung to life once more, rising out of a maelstrom of emotions. The one ringing clear and true above all was righteous anger. Singing to her a dark lullaby.
The growing awareness of the magic, that whispering that had kept her company for so long, intensified. The aura of flame billowing around Sienna in a mystical shroud and the knowing look in Sienna’s golden eyes told her what she couldn’t understand all this time.
Drink the blood of fire.
“It’s Sienna,” she whispered, her heart leaping with joy, even as Dominik snapped to two guards to go after her.
Sienna’s fire whips cracked in the air, wrapping around their necks. With a hard tug, the two decapitated men fell at once. Sienna locked on Mina’s gaze and smiled, the second before a burst of power threw Sienna across the battlement, knocking her head into the pillar with a crack. She fell at once, blood pooling from her auburn hair, the fire halo dimming until it evaporated into smoke.
“No!”
A cold electricity sparked in the air where the queen had closed her eyes and lifted her hands to the heavens, calling on some dark spell. Where the sky was clear before, a gathering of black clouds swirled in a maddened tempest, flashing with menacing magic.
Izzy squeezed her eyes closed, looking away from the queen, who stood over her altar, hands raised to the sky.
“Now, Dominik!” bellowed the queen over the winds.
Grief swept over Mina, watching Sienna’s prostrate form bleed out while the world went to hell around her. Then Dominik was on her again, yanking up her skirts. As he gripped a handhold near her head and leaned his large body over her, his expression set with grim determination and a hint of sadistic pleasure, her grief melted away, replaced by such dark rage she could only think one thing.
Survive. And kill.
His hand gripped her upper thigh, leaning forward just enough. She lurched up and latched her fangs in deep at his pulse, sucking so hard he screamed, squeezing her thigh harder.
“Let go, bitch.”
She clamped even harder, drinking him down, molten fire burning through her body like a volcano spewing lava into her veins. Burned. It burned, but she wouldn’t relent, determined to take his life in any way she could.
He jerked up, screaming, but she didn’t unlatch. Finally, he gripped her throat, blocking off her swallowing his blood, then finally her breathing. When she saw black in her periphery, she let go. He flew back off of her, blood dripping from his wound. Before he could set upon her the black vengeance in his gaze, Mikhail tumbled him to the stone ground.
The burning persisted as the potent blood of Dominik pumped hard. His blood blazed like liquid fire through her body, igniting a conflagration of its own.
“It wasn’t Sienna,” she whispered, staring up at Dominik’s banner, the black dragon sigil with fire-gold eyes. “Dominik is the blood of fire.”
Without a thought, she pulled on her restraints. They broke at once. She stumbled off of the altar and gripped the parapet wall. She heaved in breaths of the night air, taking in the sight below as a strange sensation swept through her body.
Far down the hill filtering through the now-open double gates and spilling into wide lines was the army of the Black Lily. Mina caught her breath. Merging with the human army on their left was Lord Rathbone leading his force of Arkadians, riding astride a great black horse, his silver armor glinting under the moonlight. Lord Maksim was at his side. The equestrians filled the fields beneath Izeling Tower by the hundreds, including the black-clad Bloodguard.
A great blast exploded a hole in the western exterior wall. Katya and Dmitri rode upon their mounts through the opening, leading the Bloodguard cavalry onto the western slope. Behind them came the armored men of the Black Lily and a solid force of hart wolves flanking Friedrich, Marius, and Arabelle. The white coat of Allora beamed under the moonlight. Her black-furred mate at her side.
Even from here, Mina could see the difference in Arabelle. Her proud stance, wearing a man’s armor with her blond hair tied in a tight rope of a braid, her skin gleamed pearlescent white like that of a vampire. She’d finally done it. The revolution that this peasant girl started would end this night. Mina laughed.
The king’s right hand, that vicious viper called Kostya, was down below on the snowy ground, calling out commands as lines of Legionnaires marched into place to face the onslaught preparing to charge across the open field.
And all this time, Mikhail went at Dominik full force. Mikhail bore a streak of blood across his cheek, though he appeared as strong as ever. He dove at Dominik, taking him around the chest right over the parapet. Mina gasped, leaning toward the parapet wall, finding them both back on their feet on the lower tier, where Gregoravich and Yuri fought side by side. Bloodied, but not fallen.
A roar of overlapping battle cries sounded from the field where raging vampires—no doubt infected with the blood madness—ran in a frenzy from the thick of the woods across the field toward the Black Lily army.
Morgrid cried out in rage, staring across at Mina, who’d escaped her dismal fate. The wicked queen held her hands to the sky, summoning the storm. A blistering wind swept across the battlements, filled with the crackling energy of malice and death, building stronger and stronger. A cacophony of snarls, howls, clanging metal, tearing flesh, and breaking bones echoed up to the ramparts as the mayhem of battle raged on down below. Mina glanced to Mikhail and Dominik, still locked in combat, though Mikhail’s side bled profusely, gushing onto the stone floor.
“Mikhail.” Then she found Izzy, still bound helplessly, still precariously close to the witch who wanted her as a blood sacrifice. “No,” Mina panted, standing tall.
The whispering grew louder, overlapping voices colliding into one voice, a woman’s melodious voice as she spoke clear and loud.
Awaken the white queen from her long, long slumber.
Strange words. Dominik’s blood scorched like living flame through her body. A burn that didn’t hurt but purged all weakness away, leaving a tower of strength and power in its wake. A purge of the girl who was afraid to hold her head too high or to acknowledge the beast that lived within. The beast that Mikhail had taught her to embrace. To love.
A sudden memory whirred through her fevered thoughts, her nurse walking her through the gardens of Briar Rose.
“You know the bones of the white dragon lay right here beneath your feet.”
“No. That can’t be true. That’s just a fairy tale.”
“Aye, sweet girl. ’Tis true. And that magic lives in your own blood, did you know?”