Crown of Embers Read online

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales, or organizations is entirely coincidental.

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  Copyright 2018© Meg Anne

  All rights reserved.

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  You may not copy, distribute, transmit, reproduce, or otherwise make available this publication (or any part of it) in any form, or by any means (including without limitation electronic, digital, optical, mechanical, photocopying, printing, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the author.

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  Permission requests can be sent to Meg Anne via email: [email protected]

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  Cover Design © Lori Follett of HellYes.design

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  Editing: Hanleigh Bradley

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Map of Elysia

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Epilogue

  Chapter One

  Afterword

  Acknowledgments

  Also By Meg Anne

  About the Author

  For our furbabies…

  Thank you for showing us the meaning of unconditional love.

  You make us better humans.

  Chapter One

  “That traitorous bitch!” Helena seethed as she slammed her hands onto the top of the worn wooden table. “If it’s a war she wants, I’ll damn well give her one!”

  Von rested his hand on top of hers, working his fingers beneath her palm in an attempt to pry it off the now smoking wood. His sharp hiss of pain caught her attention.

  In surprise, Helena looked down and noticed the imprint of her hand where it had been seared into the wood. Her temper was flaring out of control, ping-ponging between grief and anger and causing her magic to react. Bolstered by Von’s presence, it was more potent than ever and did not require her conscious thought before flaring to life. Her power was taking cues from her emotions; a dangerous, and potentially deadly, combination.

  Balling her hands into fists, she stepped back from the table and continued her restless pacing. “She mur-murd—” Helena choked on the word, unable to say it out loud, to let it be real. Murdered. Rowena had murdered him. Anderson. The man who had loved and protected her for as long as she could remember. Every hurt - small, imaginary, or otherwise - garnered the same loving attention and care.

  And now he was dead. All because of her and how much his death would hurt her. She hadn’t seen it coming, hadn’t even thought of needing to protect him. She’d failed him.

  Bile rose up as the image of his face bloomed in her mind: mouth frozen open in an eternal scream, two gaping red holes where kind green eyes had once been. Like a rubber band, Helena snapped back from tears into anger. Spinning to face the men standing around her she growled, “I will destroy her.”

  “We,” Von corrected, moving into her line of sight, “we will destroy her. Together.”

  Iridescent eyes collided with molten gray and she could feel him willing her to step back from the murderous edge on which she was teetering. Helena was trembling as her emotions raged within her; her heart was pounding, beating erratically like a bird trying to escape its cage.

  She was not the only one affected. Around her, the Circle shifted restlessly, the intensity of her rage seeping into them. Kragen was the first to lose control, slamming his fist into the wall with a roar. Ronan wrapped an arm around him and pulled him back, whispering harshly into his ear. Kragen gnashed his teeth, and with a nod from Von, Ronan pulled him from the Chambers. Helena stared at the hole Kragen’s fist had left in the otherwise unblemished stone.

  “We need to be rational, Kiri,” Joquil said in a low voice.

  Sparkling iridescent eyes flew to where he was standing beside Timmins. Joquil straightened under her scrutiny, but did not back down from her withering gaze.

  “Fuck rational,” she snarled dangerously.

  Joquil swallowed back his response when he saw her thunderous expression. Before he could try again, his warm amber eyes began to show flickers of iridescence. A dark smile curled his lips and he purred in a voice filled with malice, “Shall I bring you her head, Kiri?”

  Timmins gave a start at the words which were so out of character for the Master. He looked with growing horror between Joquil and Helena. When his eyes met hers, his posture relaxed and the same eerie smile grew on his face.

  “Out!” bellowed Von.

  Timmins and Joquil blinked, their eyes returning to normal. Without delay, the two men rushed for the door and away from the woman whose power threatened to overtake them.

  “Helena,” Von said in a low, measured voice, trying to pull her attention back to him.

  Her eyes went to his as Darrin cried out, “Don’t you dare tell me to leave the only person who understands what I’ve lost.”

  Von growled, irritation flickering in his gray eyes. As one, Helena and Von pinned Darrin with their gazes.

  Darrin was the picture of grief, his bright green eyes bleak and red-rimmed. “That man raised me, and that evil bitch just sent me his head,” he fumed. “Perhaps you should be the one to leave! Let me grieve with the only person who is capable of feeling the same loss that is tearing me apart.”

  “Shield, get. The. Fuck. Out!” Von roared.

  Instead of moving toward the door, Darrin stalked toward Von. “Make me.”

  “Wrong answer.” Von slammed his palm out, shoving Darrin with all of his considerable strength. Darrin flew back, falling into the table before crashing to the floor. Von grabbed Darrin by the front of his shirt and lifted him up, pushing him out the doorway before kicking the door shut.

  There was a crash as Darrin slammed his fist into the door, causing it to shake. Still staring at the door Von replied almost conversationally, “You might be grieving, puppy, and I’m sorry for that, but not even the Mother will save you if you come back into this room.”

  There was no response. Von, the only one able to resist the seductive pull of her magic, slowly turned back to face his Mate.

  “Mira,” he said, brushing his fingers along her tear-stained cheek.

  Her lips pulled back in a silent snarl, but she did not speak.

  “Helena,” he tried again. When she still did not respond, he demanded, “Mate.” The order echoed along the length of their bond, startling her out of her fury.

  Helena glanced around the room, surprised to see it was empty. “Where did everyone go?” she asked, her voice hoarse.

  “I asked them to leave,” he said with a wry twist to his lips.

  She blinked up at him, confused, before asking warily, “What did I do?”

  He wrapped her in a hug, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “It doesn’t matter.”

  “Von…”

  “Shhh,” he murmured.

  “Don’t shush me,” she protested weakly.

  He just held
her tighter, asking softly, “Are you alright?”

  Taking a deep, shuddering breath, she admitted baldly, “No.”

  Von held her, giving her the time and space she needed before she could speak further.

  “She killed him, Von. He was…” Helena trailed off, unable to think of a way to describe everything Anderson had been to her. “Family,” she said finally. “Anderson was my family, and he never did anything in his life to deserve what she did to him.” Helena’s voice faded toward the end, the threat of tears making it hard for her to speak.

  “We will put an end to Rowena. Trust me; no one wants that more than I do, Helena. But we need to be smart. She did this, knowing it would provoke you. She wants you to strike while you are unprepared to face her. You saw her army; we need far greater numbers if we are going to face that again.”

  Helena nodded. “I know, but—”

  Von’s voice was warm but firm as he interjected, “Do not mistake preparation for a sign of weakness. She landed a great blow today, but this is just one battle of what will surely be many. You will be the one still standing at the end of this. Let us call on our allies and gather our forces. Then we will face her, on our terms and when we are the ones with the upper hand.”

  His words made sense, and yet they grated. “You speak like you’ve done this before,” she muttered petulantly.

  “Maybe once or twice,” he affirmed.

  There was comfort in knowing she would not be facing this alone. “I want to give him a proper burial,” she said suddenly.

  “Whatever you want, Mira.”

  “Can you bury just a,” she grimaced, “head?”

  “You are the Kiri, you can do whatever you damn well please.”

  “Except rush into battle,” she countered.

  “Except put your life in danger,” he amended.

  The small smile that rose in response to his words did not last long, her pain outweighing all other emotion. “I don’t know what to do,” she confessed in a small voice, her head still tucked into his chest.

  Von’s hand moved comfortingly over her back, “Tonight you grieve the man you have lost. Tomorrow we will celebrate his life and then we can worry about the rest.”

  “Okay,” she agreed, lower lip trembling as her emotions bubbled up again. She sobbed until her tears ran dry and the sky went dark. Von held her the entire time.

  “Will you tell me about him?” he asked once she started to pull back from him.

  The pain in her aqua eyes shot through him but she was smiling softly as she said, “Yes.”

  Helena was curled up in her favorite cushioned chair, a blanket draped over her lap as she stared silently across the room. A soft snore had her eyes moving to her Mate and a tired smile rose at the sight of him. Von was splayed across the settee beside her, entirely too large and masculine for the dainty piece of furniture. He couldn’t help but radiate strength and presence, even when he was all but unconscious.

  Von had urged her to come to bed with him hours ago, but she could not quiet her mind enough to drift to sleep. Finally he’d relented, seeing that she needed time to process her loss now that the initial wave of grief had passed. That didn’t mean he’d gone far. She’d rolled her eyes when he’d stretched out muttering under his breath about furniture that was too small, while trying, unsuccessfully, to make himself comfortable. Her heart had swelled a little, appreciating how he was giving her space while also letting her know that he was there for her.

  As his grumbling gave way to deep, steady breathing, she had thanked the Great Mother once again that it was not his head she had found in that box. There was no question in Helena’s mind about whether or not she would have survived that particular loss. If the last few months were any indication, no one would have survived that reaction, especially since she’d nearly come undone by mere separation.

  Not that it made her heart hurt any less for having lost Anderson. A numbness had settled over her since she left the Chambers cradled in Von’s arms. It allowed her to spend the twilight hours lovingly flipping through long-forgotten memories of the man that helped raise her. While there were still a few tears, they were silent, quietly slipping through her swollen eyes as she allowed herself to relive their time together. Helena was also accompanied by the steady ache of grief, but the memories were more bittersweet than painful: a tender bruise being accidentally brushed instead of a dagger twisting through her heart.

  She knew that this was not a pain that would quietly fade. Its ache would always remain to some degree. It was the kind of pain that would rear up unexpectedly, as strong and fierce as if it had just happened, in the days and years to come.

  Helena couldn’t believe that he was gone, that he would never know her children. Never meet the man who held the other half of her soul. Never again hold her in his stooped embrace as he pressed paper-dry lips to her forehead and wished her goodnight. So many moments had been stolen from them, but there was one that she would miss more than any other: the sound of his gruff voice uttering her name with exasperation, even as his eyes twinkled with pleasure, whenever she tried to take care of him.

  She let out a low, sad sigh. Anderson’s loss would stay with her, but she would not let it change the woman he’d helped shape. He’d already made her promise as much just over a year ago.

  The memory of that day surged forth, unbidden. The details that sprang up surprised her with their intensity. It was not a time she cared to dwell on. She had not let herself think of it at all since it had passed. Helena had considered it the darkest time of her life until Gillian’s betrayal had shown her just what kind of darkness truly existed in the world, and in her.

  Yet, as the recollection of that afternoon swirled into focus within her mind, Helena realized that perhaps what she most needed right now was to remember the words that had provided comfort and a glimmer of hope when she had been lost in darkness.

  Helena scowled at the bright cerulean sky, irritated that the world did not see fit to mirror her mourning with storm clouds and icy rain. There was something about a cheerful spring day that did not feel appropriate for a funeral. Especially not when it was her mother’s. Her shoulders sagged at the reminder. Even as she brushed and braided her hair, readying herself for the day, she had not wanted to think about what awaited her outside her small cottage.

  Moving to the large wooden armoire that held both hers and her mother’s clothes, Helena wilted further. How in the Great Mother’s name were you supposed to select the outfit you wore to bury someone you loved?

  Ignoring the wet blur that rapidly filled her eyes, Helena randomly selected and pulled out a dress, deciding that choosing would be an impossible task. Whatever she chose would end up being remembered as what she wore to her mother’s funeral. The only way to avoid it would be if she just attended the funeral naked.

  The irreverent thought made her lips twitch. Her mother had always been pragmatic, and she probably wouldn’t have bat an eye, noting that it was exactly what Helena had worn the first time they’d met anyway. Helena pushed the silly thought away. It was an amusing diversion, but certainly not the way she wanted to go say goodbye to her mother.

  Glancing down at the soft purple fabric clenched in her hands, Helena went still. She’d grabbed her mother’s dress; the one she saved for special occasions and holidays. Helena had always thought her mother looked as beautiful as a Kiri when she wore it, with her chocolate brown hair falling in contrasting waves against the vibrant fabric. She stroked trembling fingers along its length, smoothing out the wrinkles she’d caused.

  Closing her eyes, Helena pulled the dress to her nose and inhaled deeply. The faint scent of roses still clung to the material. She stood breathing in the familiar and comforting scent of her mother’s favorite perfume for a few silent seconds. With a pang, she forced herself to lower the dress. If she didn’t hurry, she would miss the entire ceremony. Spurred into action, Helena let out a shuddering breath and quickly pulled the dress over her he
ad, letting it fall loosely around her. When she opened her eyes, a soft gasp left her lips.

  While she lacked some of her mother’s more generous curves, and her hair was several shades lighter, wearing that dress it was as though her mother was standing before her. Helena traced her reflection on the cool glass, not noticing that her aqua eyes were red-rimmed and watery or that her eyelashes were dark spikes from a night spent crying. Her nose was bright red and her face puffy, but all of those details faded. As she gazed into the mirror, all she could see were her mother’s eyes.

  A sob bubbled up but Helena pushed it back. How can she be gone, when she’s staring back at me? A sharp knock had her jumping and stepping back. With a final, lingering glance at the mirror, Helena left the small bedroom and went to open the door.

  Looking grimmer than she had ever seen him, Anderson stood waiting for her. He had combed and parted his white hair, and made sure to wash and press his best clothes. His gnarled hands were spinning his faded work hat in a distracted manner while he waited for her to answer. At the sight of her in the doorway, his hands faltered, and his mouth fell open before a wide grin stretched across his face.

  “Well, look at you. If you ain’t the spitting image of your mother…” his words trailed off at her flinch. Understanding filled his green eyes and he pulled her into a bear hug. “No need to be sad, little bug. Your mama may have returned to the Great Mother, but just because she’s not here with you and me, doesn’t mean she’s gone. She’s just watching you from above now. Besides, Old Anderson here has it on good authority that your mama wouldn’t want you to be sad. Not when she is at peace without a single care in the world. Don’t give her a reason to linger here, worrying about you.”