Princess Of The Skulls - Chapter 36: Chapter 36
You are reading Princess Of The Skulls, Chapter 36: Chapter 36. Read more chapters of Princess Of The Skulls.
The ceremonial chalice passed from Aldric's lips to mine, the wine within tasting of herbs and ancient magic. As I drank, I felt the binding energies intensify, weaving themselves around us like invisible chains designed to hold my soul steady for the sacrifice to come.
"By the power vested in me by both kingdoms and the old gods," the High Priest intoned, his voice growing stronger as magical forces gathered, "I pronounce you husband and wife. May your union bring —"
The first crossbow bolt took him in the throat.
Chaos erupted as the High Priest crumpled, blood spattering across the ancient altar stones. Nobles screamed and dove for cover as more bolts whistled through the cathedral air, fired by our hidden allies among the servants and guards.
"Now!" I shouted, grabbing Aldric's hand as steel rang against steel throughout the cathedral.
My father roared in fury, his ceremonial armor suddenly blazing with protective enchantments as he drew his sword. "Treacherous bitch! You planned this!"
"Did you really think I'd walk willingly to my own sacrifice?" I replied, drawing my blade—not the ceremonial dagger, but the killing steel I'd hidden beneath my wedding dress. "I am my grandfather's heir, father. Did you forget what that means?"
Lord Cassius was shouting orders to his guards, but half of them were already dead or dying, cut down by
Kael and our other infiltrators. The Thornfield lord's face was purple with rage as he realized how thoroughly he'd been outmaneuvered.
"Kill them all!" he bellowed. "The wedding party, the servants, everyone who isn't ours!"
But the battle was already turning in our favor. Months of careful planning had placed our people in key positions throughout the cathedral. What should have been our execution ground had become theirs.
A blade whistled past my ear, wielded by one of my father's loyalists. I spun, my wedding dress flaring around me like liquid shadow, and opened his throat with a backhanded cut. Warm blood sprayed across the midnight blue silk, and I felt the familiar rush of battle-fury flooding my veins.
"Seraphina!" Aldric's warning came just in time. I ducked as another assassin's dagger split the air where my head had been, then drove my elbow back into his solar plexus. As he doubled over, gasping, I grabbed his hair and dragged my blade across his neck.
"Behind you!" Kael's voice was sharp with urgency.
I spun to see Lord Cassius himself bearing down on me, his massive sword raised for a killing blow. Time seemed to slow as I realized I couldn't bring my blade up fast enough to block, couldn't dodge in the restricting silk of my wedding dress.
Then Aldric was there, his sword meeting his father's in a shower of sparks. The impact drove him to one knee, but he held the block, giving me the opening I needed.
My dagger found the gap between Lord Cassius's armor plates, sliding between his ribs like a lover's whisper. His eyes widened in shock as I twisted the blade, feeling his heart's blood flood over my hand.
"That," I said, meeting his dying gaze, "is for my mother."
He fell backward, crushing a pew beneath his armored weight. Around us, the battle was winding down as the last of the loyalist forces fell to our blades. The cathedral floor was slick with blood, the ancient stones finally receiving the sacrifice they'd been promised—just not the one anyone had expected.
But my father still stood at the altar, his sword dripping crimson, his eyes blazing with unholy fury. And I could feel something else building in the air—a different kind of magic, darker and more ancient than the binding ritual we'd interrupted.
"You think you've won?" he snarled, raising his hands as shadows began to writhe around his fingers.
"You think killing a few guards and one Thornfield lord makes you queen?"
The temperature in the cathedral plummeted. Frost began forming on the windows, and the candle flames flickered as if a wind were blowing through sealed stone. But there was no wind—only the gathering presence of something vast and hungry stirring in the darkness between worlds.
"I am Magnus Blackthorne, keeper of the old pacts, guardian of the binding seals!" His voice boomed with supernatural resonance. "I call upon the ancient powers, the forces that sleep beneath throne and crown!"
Oh, gods. He wasn't just a king drunk on political power. He was a sorcerer, and one with access to magic.
I'd never imagined.
"Seraphina, we need to go," Aldric said urgently, blood streaming from a cut on his forehead. "Now."
But I couldn't move. The magical energies my father was summoning were pulling at something deep inside me, something that recognized the call of darkness and wanted to answer. The whispers of the skull relics grew louder in my mind, my grandfather's voice rising above the others.
Now, child. Choose now. Become what you were born to be, or die as the weakling you've pretended to be.
My father's spell reached its crescendo, and the shadows around him coalesced into physical form— creatures of living darkness with eyes like burning coals and claws that could rend stone. They flowed toward us like a tide of night, and I knew our steel would be useless against them.
But I had another weapon.
I closed my eyes and opened my mind to the whispers, letting my grandfather's voice guide me deeper into the necromantic power that was my birthright. The cold rushed through my veins like liquid starlight, and when I opened my eyes again, the world looked different.
I could see the spirits of the recently dead rising from their corpses, confused and lost. I could feel the ancient bones buried beneath the cathedral, the remains of kings and queens who'd ruled for centuries.
And I could command them all.
"Rise," I whispered, and my voice carried the authority of death itself.
The slain guards and nobles began to stir, their wounds still gaping, but their limbs moving with unnatural purpose. They climbed to their feet and turned toward my father's shadow-creatures with empty eyes and grasping hands.
The battle between the living and the dead began with the sound of claws meeting rotting flesh.
"By the power vested in me by both kingdoms and the old gods," the High Priest intoned, his voice growing stronger as magical forces gathered, "I pronounce you husband and wife. May your union bring —"
The first crossbow bolt took him in the throat.
Chaos erupted as the High Priest crumpled, blood spattering across the ancient altar stones. Nobles screamed and dove for cover as more bolts whistled through the cathedral air, fired by our hidden allies among the servants and guards.
"Now!" I shouted, grabbing Aldric's hand as steel rang against steel throughout the cathedral.
My father roared in fury, his ceremonial armor suddenly blazing with protective enchantments as he drew his sword. "Treacherous bitch! You planned this!"
"Did you really think I'd walk willingly to my own sacrifice?" I replied, drawing my blade—not the ceremonial dagger, but the killing steel I'd hidden beneath my wedding dress. "I am my grandfather's heir, father. Did you forget what that means?"
Lord Cassius was shouting orders to his guards, but half of them were already dead or dying, cut down by
Kael and our other infiltrators. The Thornfield lord's face was purple with rage as he realized how thoroughly he'd been outmaneuvered.
"Kill them all!" he bellowed. "The wedding party, the servants, everyone who isn't ours!"
But the battle was already turning in our favor. Months of careful planning had placed our people in key positions throughout the cathedral. What should have been our execution ground had become theirs.
A blade whistled past my ear, wielded by one of my father's loyalists. I spun, my wedding dress flaring around me like liquid shadow, and opened his throat with a backhanded cut. Warm blood sprayed across the midnight blue silk, and I felt the familiar rush of battle-fury flooding my veins.
"Seraphina!" Aldric's warning came just in time. I ducked as another assassin's dagger split the air where my head had been, then drove my elbow back into his solar plexus. As he doubled over, gasping, I grabbed his hair and dragged my blade across his neck.
"Behind you!" Kael's voice was sharp with urgency.
I spun to see Lord Cassius himself bearing down on me, his massive sword raised for a killing blow. Time seemed to slow as I realized I couldn't bring my blade up fast enough to block, couldn't dodge in the restricting silk of my wedding dress.
Then Aldric was there, his sword meeting his father's in a shower of sparks. The impact drove him to one knee, but he held the block, giving me the opening I needed.
My dagger found the gap between Lord Cassius's armor plates, sliding between his ribs like a lover's whisper. His eyes widened in shock as I twisted the blade, feeling his heart's blood flood over my hand.
"That," I said, meeting his dying gaze, "is for my mother."
He fell backward, crushing a pew beneath his armored weight. Around us, the battle was winding down as the last of the loyalist forces fell to our blades. The cathedral floor was slick with blood, the ancient stones finally receiving the sacrifice they'd been promised—just not the one anyone had expected.
But my father still stood at the altar, his sword dripping crimson, his eyes blazing with unholy fury. And I could feel something else building in the air—a different kind of magic, darker and more ancient than the binding ritual we'd interrupted.
"You think you've won?" he snarled, raising his hands as shadows began to writhe around his fingers.
"You think killing a few guards and one Thornfield lord makes you queen?"
The temperature in the cathedral plummeted. Frost began forming on the windows, and the candle flames flickered as if a wind were blowing through sealed stone. But there was no wind—only the gathering presence of something vast and hungry stirring in the darkness between worlds.
"I am Magnus Blackthorne, keeper of the old pacts, guardian of the binding seals!" His voice boomed with supernatural resonance. "I call upon the ancient powers, the forces that sleep beneath throne and crown!"
Oh, gods. He wasn't just a king drunk on political power. He was a sorcerer, and one with access to magic.
I'd never imagined.
"Seraphina, we need to go," Aldric said urgently, blood streaming from a cut on his forehead. "Now."
But I couldn't move. The magical energies my father was summoning were pulling at something deep inside me, something that recognized the call of darkness and wanted to answer. The whispers of the skull relics grew louder in my mind, my grandfather's voice rising above the others.
Now, child. Choose now. Become what you were born to be, or die as the weakling you've pretended to be.
My father's spell reached its crescendo, and the shadows around him coalesced into physical form— creatures of living darkness with eyes like burning coals and claws that could rend stone. They flowed toward us like a tide of night, and I knew our steel would be useless against them.
But I had another weapon.
I closed my eyes and opened my mind to the whispers, letting my grandfather's voice guide me deeper into the necromantic power that was my birthright. The cold rushed through my veins like liquid starlight, and when I opened my eyes again, the world looked different.
I could see the spirits of the recently dead rising from their corpses, confused and lost. I could feel the ancient bones buried beneath the cathedral, the remains of kings and queens who'd ruled for centuries.
And I could command them all.
"Rise," I whispered, and my voice carried the authority of death itself.
The slain guards and nobles began to stir, their wounds still gaping, but their limbs moving with unnatural purpose. They climbed to their feet and turned toward my father's shadow-creatures with empty eyes and grasping hands.
The battle between the living and the dead began with the sound of claws meeting rotting flesh.
End of Princess Of The Skulls Chapter 36. Continue reading Chapter 37 or return to Princess Of The Skulls book page.