Black Moon Draw (38 page)

With a deep breath, I open the door to my destiny.

It’s not the corridor of my apartment building outside the door but the smooth stone walls and floor of the castle at Black Moon Draw.

I take one step and then another into the shallow hall. The one adjoining it is bright, lit by torches and natural light. No trace of the destruction is present, and the fortress no longer shakes.

Cautiously, I pull the door closed behind me, releasing my breath. The castle is standing. It’s a good first sign. I tread down the hall to the major corridor. Dazzling sunlight pours through windows while the brilliant blue sky above shows no trace of fog. The mountains still stand and I glimpse hills of mythical green beyond the stone walls.

Hope balloons, its warmth flooding me. My thoughts turn to the Shadow Knight, who I left dead in the banquet hall. I spin and look expectantly at the torches. “Take me to him,” I whisper. One of them flickers as if to signal me, and I balance the cat carriers so I can move as fast as I can.

This time, the path is much shorter, the hallways no longer reorganizing in a maze at each turn. Down stairs, through two floors, and down more stairs. Anticipation sets my body on fire. Emotions are percolating, contained only by the sheer terror that I might’ve saved the kingdom but not the man. I float through the castle, too frenzied to know for certain to experience exertion.

The torches lead me to the foyer, and I pause, confused. It’s empty. My eyes sweep over the tapestries that still hang by threads after a thousand years and the wooden furnishings that have rotted in place. The dust is gone, along with the cobwebs, though the wear of time remains. The neglected fortress will need extensive repair – but it’s in one piece.

“It’s a start,” I whisper, frowning. “Yo, magic torches, you were supposed to take me to him.”

None of them flicker abnormally.

“Witch.”

I turn at the hesitant voice of my squire.

“You’re alive!” I exclaim. Depositing the cats, I race to him and throw my arms around him, grateful the kid is okay.

“Ahhhh,” he says, wriggling free, a look of embarrassment and bafflement on his features.

Note to self: don’t hug your squire.

“What happened?” I demand. “Do you remember?”

“Aye. I was falling and then I stopped in the air.” His eyes bug as he speaks. “I could not move for half a candlemark. And then, suddenly, I could. I landed there.” He points to the corner of the foyer. “The fog disappeared and the sun came out.”

I’m analyzing his words, torn between hope the Shadow Knight survived and despair I’m too late. “Was anyone with you?” I venture fearfully.

“Aye. The son of the Desert Knight.”

“The Red Knight?”

He shakes his head, and I experience the sense once more that I shouldn’t have helped the man driven to find LF.

Then again, after the emotional turmoil of my adventure, she deserves to have the shit scared out of her by a fully armed knight showing up at her door.

“Anyone else?” I prod.

The squire starts to smile and nods. Pointing, his ears grow red.

“Watch my cats, okay?”

His eyebrows go up.

I don’t have time to explain. Every cell in my body needs to know if I succeeded in saving Atreyu. I leave the foyer and blink in the sunshine, spotting the large, muscular frame of the man I’m looking for. He’s paused halfway down the short bridge leading to the city.

Thank god! I race after him, heart in my throat, and slow before reaching him, enamored by the sight of him.

His face is turned towards the sky, his eyes closed as he absorbs direct sunlight for the first time in his life. A thousand years and he’s the first Shadow Knight to see the blue skies.

Tears stream down my cheeks and I cover my face with my hands, unable to stand the thought I helped him reach this moment. It makes me want to scream or explode from happiness. My blood roars with need, but it’s pride that makes me almost giddy. “You got your blue sky,” I whisper, choking up.

“Aye.” He holds out an arm without turning. “Come, witch.”

I circle him and fling myself into his arms, breathing in the scent of brownies and grass, of sunshine and destiny. I squeeze him as hard as I can to reassure myself that he’s real. His arms circle me and he hauls me into his hard frame.

“What have you done, witch?” he asks gruffly.

“Saved the world. Duh,” I reply and bury my face into his shoulder. “I’m so happy to be here. I’m so happy you’re alive! I couldn’t bear it if you weren’t.”

He lifts my chin and I meet his gaze. His eyes are dark blue, like the oceans, glimmering with purples, greens, and blues. The fog is gone from his realm and from him.

I want to sing at the top of my lungs. Instead I wait while he searches my face, a tiny spark of self-doubt creeping in at the silence. “You did it. You saved your realm,” I say in the thick silence.

“Aye. ‘Tis so,” he agrees softly, amused. “’Twould be naught without my heart.” The skin around his eyes warms.

I grin, not caring how dorky I look, no longer interested in trying to hide what I feel and think from the world. Cupping his stubble-roughened cheeks with my hands, I kiss him lightly on the lips and drop back onto flat feet. “I still get to be your queen, right? You didn’t change your mind?”

“Never,” he says fiercely, a familiar light flaring in his eyes. “You became my queen last night, witch, the heart of Black Moon Draw, and the only woman I will ever take to my bed.”

My god. No words.

“In a fortnight, you will meet your new subjects,” he continues. Releasing me, he stoops to sweep me up in his arms.

“Why so long?” I ask.

“Because I do not plan to let you leave my bed before then.”

I giggle, eyes drinking in his planed features as exhilaration flies through my system. The feminine side of me is already in a puddle, the primal need to belong to and claim this man until I can’t speak, walk, or think strong enough that I’m glad he’s carrying me. I gaze up at him with no short amount of awe and gratitude.

I really do get my happily-ever-after.

“What say you, witch?” he growls.

“Thank you,” I whisper.

“Thank me with your legs open.” Grunting, he hefts me over one shoulder.

I laugh and then begin to weep, the lightness in my heart too great for me to contain any longer.

Like him, I’m home at last.

Epilogue: LF

The End.

I consider the words. They don’t seem quite right. Deleting them, I debate for a moment and then simply leave it blank. The book may stop here, but their story is eternal.

“Best. Book. Ever.” The shih-tzu at my feet stirs when I speak, and I reach down to scratch him between the ears. “Another best seller, Wookie!” He looks up at his name, as sleepy as I am.

This book feels incredible. It flowed with unnatural ease, basically writing itself. I haven’t slept in three days, compelled to complete the story of Naia and her Shadow Knight. There are stories that seem to be channeled from outside of my imagination entirely, worlds painted so vividly on my mental canvas, that to delay sharing them is a sin.

I pull up the chat window where I’ve been talking to one of my readers. There are fans – and there are rabid fans. My last three books have been like this, inspired by the stories of rabid fans who messaged me, begging to be in a book. All three books were similar to this one – channeled writing that drove me batty until I sat down to put the worlds on paper.

I type her a message.

Hey, Naia78! The story’s done. I’ll post the final chapter in a bit, after I edit so you aren’t bothered by any more typos!

I wait a minute. She doesn’t immediately respond. What’s odd: the other two women never wrote back after I finished the final chapters of their respective books either. I’m assuming they liked their stories. If they weren’t happy with the ending, I’d hear about it.

“Oh, well. Hope Naia likes it, too.” I stand up and go to the kitchen. Exhausted after the writing marathon, I’m also completely energized by the power of Naia’s story. It thrills me to finish a book, especially one that flowed the way this one did. Making a cup of tea, I dwell over any loose ends I might need to fix. My muses are usually good at catching them in my final round of editing.

The only thing I can think of: what happened to the Red Knight.

On this topic, my muses are quiet. He walked through the doorway ahead of Naia and disappeared. The otherworldly inspiration behind Black Moon Draw isn’t volunteering any sort of resolution to his story. Nor do I feel the desire to change that part. I love to leave a bit of mystery in each book, something to leave the readers wondering and stimulate their imaginations the way I like to dream about what happens instead of watching the end of movies.

The Red Knight is probably my favorite character. The idea of a book character being so determined to find its author makes me giggle, and I’ll admit – I had fun messing with him and watching him grow more and more frustrated.

My doorbell rings. Wookie erupts into fierce little barks and I grab my tea, heading towards the door. It’s too early for FedEx or UPS deliveries and my best friend Julia isn’t coming by to go shopping for another hour. It leaves one possible trespasser, someone I’m not too thrilled to talk to again this morning.

“Quiet, Wookie,” I tell my fluffy puppy affectionately. I push him away from the door with my foot. “Probably the neighbor complaining about me parking in his spot again, since I didn’t move it yesterday morning.” I sigh. I was knee deep in my manic writing episode, which isn’t an excuse normal people understand.

I prepare an excuse for the neighbor. There are days when I really hate living in an apartment community. Someday, when I hit the big times and become a world famous author, that’ll change. Until then, I just have to deal with the ongoing conflict for the best parking spot.

Unlocking the door, I open it.

My mouth drops open. After a moment of shock, I start to laugh. “No way!”