Dhara's life was turned upside down once before, and she had recovered nicely from it, thank you very much.
Then the king dies, which is enough cause for worry, and the reason for all the past upheaval in her life walks in through the front door wit...
Prince Lucius jumped out of the way, throwing up a shield, and just in time: Malachi landed where the prince had been standing and slammed his sword on his shield. He snarled at the boy and lifted his sword for another blow, but then he noticed the undead converging on him.
Malachi looked dispassionately at the gathered army. There were exactly a hundred of them, which meant that the prince had not underestimated them. He had taught the boy well. The soldiers lumbered toward him, coming from behind the grove to his position. Malachi growled at them, black armor appearing out of nowhere, covering his arms, legs, and torso. His sword appeared in his right hand, a dagger in his left. He knew his eyes would be glowing an eerie neon green, an effect of going into full warrior mage mode.
Malachi roared a bloodcurdling sound. The undead closest to him shriveled up and fell, whatever dark magic animating them destroyed. He heard Prince Lucius' gasp and grinned.
He attacked.
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Dhara had always wondered what berserkers in battle looked like. She was now seeing it, first-hand.
She and Malachi had met when in their early teens and had been friends long before they started dating. He had confided in her about his fears of being a warrior mage, and how it could change the perception of those he loved concerning him.
She had laughed at those concerns, told him he was over-thinking things.
Watching him now, she saw that he had every right to be concerned. Concerned that, in the wrong hands, his ability could be used to enslave the world.
Malachi was a methodical beast on the battlefield. It was controlled mayhem out there. He weaved, ducked, parried, slashed, kicked, stabbed, and several other motions that Dhara couldn't bear to watch or dare to name. It was like a very fast dance; if you were too slow, you died. And Malachi was the one setting the tempo.
She wondered how many women had seen him in full warrior mage mode and fallen in love.
From the corner of her eye, she saw the prince sneak into the grove. She called up her shield just as he raised a knife to her throat.
"Ouch!" he yelled, his hand colliding with the shield. Dhara flicked her fingers, and roots shot out of the ground, wrapping him in a prisoner's hold. She turned back to the battle, ignoring the boy's insults. The undead lay around Malachi in varying states of dismemberment, and Malachi was barely winded, his dagger and sword coated in a dark and sticky substance.
He cut off the head of the last one standing, then turned and strode purposefully toward the grove. The prince saw him and renewed his struggles, cursing and screaming for his life. Dhara watched Malachi approach, waiting to see what he would do.
What he did do, she never expected.
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Malachi reached Dhara just as she let down her shield. She started to say something when he grabbed her, pulled her to him, and kissed her.
Good god of light, he had been dying to do that since he saw her fighting off those creatures on her front porch. She tasted minty, and smiled on her lips, reminded of another obsession of hers: fresh breath. He lifted his head and looked down on her, grinning at the dumbstruck look on her face. She opened her mouth to speak, shook her head, then stared some more. He bent his head to confound her even further when he felt the wraith's presence beside her.
"Greatest apologies, Malachi Stone. After the revelation of His Highness as the traitor in our midst, I had to go and warn Master Samson to secure the network. This took longer than it should have because the prince had created a portal in the dining room, letting in more of these vile..."
"You're here now, Forlorn. Well done," Malachi cut her off. The wraith grew faint at the praise, what passed for a smile on her face. She turned to the prince, who had gone silent and still, and that smile became a look so horrid, the boy passed out.
"Stop terrifying the prince, Forlorn. Can you sense anyone else in this place?"
The wraith disappeared for a few seconds, reappearing at the mouth of the grove.
"No one alive. Ennis Daan has dead for at least two weeks now, based on the freshness of the grave."
"Yes, we know. The queen had her family killed so that she could attain her full potential as a sorceress," Dhara finally found her voice, moving away from Malachi. He pulled her back to him, his eyes still glinting that neon green.
"Malachi, let me go. You are not yourself right now."
"Oh, I have never been more myself that now," he murmured, their noses touching. He felt her need for control war with desire for him. He was still in warrior mage mode, which meant he was only thinking in terms of lust and conquest, but he wasn't one of the best of his kind for nothing. He sighed, then stepped away from her, each move a physical and mental struggle.
Forlorn nodded at him, a look of admiration on her ghostly face. He willed his power to dampen, and his armor disappeared, the aura around him changing until he was the Malachi Stone that could mingle in normal society.
"Take us back to the safe house. We need a new strategy to take down the queen."
"Or, we could send a message to Samson and Brynn and go straight to the palace," Dhara suggested, throwing the prince a dirty look. "Striking when the iron is hot and all that."
Malachi and Forlorn had thoughtful looks on their faces.
"The queen won't be expecting us, and we have her son captive, but apart from that, I don't see the plan," Malachi said. Dhara gave him a small smile.
