Excerpt
from ARC-MUTAR: THE HEART OF THE QUEEN

Moving quietly through the stone tunnel, she heard only the rustle of her dress around her legs. Ray smiled, lowering her gaze. One hand followed the wall, feeling that what had once been rough and uneven was now smooth; time and hands, all things, eventually yielded, even rock.

If close enough, one could see the slight tilt of her head, as if listening to a voice far away. He had said ok; she could speak with Inge.

She stifled her laugh as the Lamash’s talons scraped against the edges of her mind, reaching upward. Her only desire had nothing to do with speaking; no, feeling the small blade in her hand, hidden in her sleeve.

No, there would be little speaking, imagining the sound as it tore through his flesh, pulled across the neck of the High Elfin King.

She had felt Jaidyn earlier as he passed the soft grey robe she hung on a hook next to his bed, his head lowered to smell her verbena. He was there, standing at the lake, turned towards the north, his head also tilted slightly.

“Ray, what are you doing?” Jaidyn’s voice pushed against the back of her mind.

Pulling her shoulders back, one hand traced the neck of her gown, honoring her Dal King. Grey like the robe, soft like the hair on his chest, with luxurious folds that started above her rear and ended a few feet around her.

“What is in your hand? Ray? What are you holding?”

Quiet, shushing the Lamash, Ray knew Molynar would feel her as Jaidyn circled, Reaching, more than concerned.

“Molynar, please,” Jaidyn’s mental voice screamed.

“Faerenduil!”

Rayale was aware of how many protocols she was breaking, including not informing her king what she was doing, the biggest of all. Also, her entering the High King’s chambers without a chaperone was unheard of.

Pounding in her chest, Jaidyn was pounding.

With her breath caught in her throat, Ray bound the guards, their heads lowered as they stepped aside. She knocked, stepped back and smiled. Yes, of course, everything was ok.

The High King was dressed for dinner, resplendent in a maroon tippet decorated with fringe and small beads shaped like the rose insignia of the High Kingdom, which hung across his shoulder. Inge faced the fire, away from her, turning when she entered, causing her to bow, right hand over her heart.

“High King, thank you for seeing me,” she began, but was interrupted when he motioned for her to rise.

Taking her time as his eyes browsed her face, down to the flowering necklace sitting low on her chest, to her waist and thighs, and finally to the floor. He appreciated what he saw.

Ray moved forward a step, welcoming his attention, thinking about how much blood would be spilled when she cut his fucking throat.

“Come forward,” he said, reaching out to her as she placed her hand over his. Leaning forward to kiss one cheek and then the other. Making sure to capture his eyes, Ray smiled gently as her jaw loosened, communicating to Inge without words,

I welcome your attention, and I understand your power, her smile whispered.

But beneath the silk of her sleeve, her finger brushed over the encrusted stones.

“Please, let’s sit,” he said, motioning for her to one of the many high-back chairs facing the fire. “I can think of nothing more lovely than to look at you in the firelight. I was not expecting to see you until dinner. You can imagine when I heard that you requested my counsel, well, I was surprised.”

Rayale accepted a glass of wine he had poured and quietly observed the last few moments of Inge’s life.

“RAYALE, NO! NO! Ray, I command you, NO!” Again, Jaidyn’s voice filled her chest, something she was struggling to push down. “Damn it, Ray!”

Closing his eyes, Jaidyn reached back into the memory of the Stone Chamber. Yes, Ray was screaming. He could see it all—the tall, lithe elf with a ring on every finger, his tunic impeccable. He threw his strength against the door.

“MOLYNAR!”

Kill him, Queen, the Lamash hissed, squeezed into a high-backed chair, shifting into a predatory, ready position.

“My Lord, I wanted to spend time with you to discuss Kyla, as only a mother can,” she began, noticing his eyes drifting to the necklace and the rise of her breasts. A bit of verbena drifted, causing Inge to turn his head to follow.

“Kyla will be at dinner?” he queried, his eyes searching hers.

“No, My Lord, she has chosen to eat in our chambers. Her wounds have not begun to heal.”

Turning the knife around in her hand, the blade now pointed outwards. Rayale softened her gaze as the king recoiled slightly, concerned.

“Yes, of course, I understand. I was hoping to see her before I go, however. I must convey my apologies. You understand.”

With the slightest hint of guilt, a small crease appeared between his brows. Was it guilt? Gods no. It was performance.

“High King, I would like you to know that Kyla wishes to return to your kingdom in the fall. She will spend her summer here. She would like you to visit, of course, when you are able.” Ray paused as a shudder of excitement passed through her. “She requests to wed in the springtime after she has become accustomed to the ways of your kingdom.”

“Of course, all of that can be arranged.” Reaching forward to touch Ray’s hand gently, something that would never occur if her husband were present. “I look forward to Kyla returning; she has already been missed.”

Would she let me touch her, just once? Heavens he wanted to brush his fingers across her cheek. Inge quickly released her, gripping the arm of the chair.

“I have not had time alone with you since, well, your marriage.”

Inside her sleeve, Ray tightened her grip on the knife.

Cut him, Queen, cut his throat…

“What happened that day,” Inge said, stopping Ray’s breath as he looked away to stare into the fire. “That is not what I ordered.”

Silence! Ray pushed back against the rising demon.

“The rose, that was mine, but the branding. Ray, you must believe me, I did not know…”

Gods, he’s talking about me, the chamber…

Liar… the Lamash growled.

“You left me there, never came back,” Ray murmured.

Inside, the Lamash recoiled as everything that Ray was took over. Suddenly, she was eighteen, her face pressed against the table, betrayed as she waited for someone to stop it, and no one did.

Especially not Inge.

To herself, her family, her husband, and Jaidyn, the words meant to be screamed as Inge shuddered at her feet would, instead, settle inside her chest.

This is where you lost me.

She understood, yes, the Lamash; she could see it now. The demon was rage, anger, power, and betrayal. She would never be able to see the line she had been walking for decades.

With just a whisper, Ray knew Inge heard her. “You don’t get to pretend it was not your hand.”