Loving the Forbidden Prince

Chapter 224  The Vile Vial

AYLETH

Ayleth gaped at her in stunned rage. "I am no such… such mindless thing and you know it!"

"Do I?" her mother sneered. "I came expecting to gather my warrior princess and bring her home, and all I find is a pretty girl who has been coddled and is now throwing a tantrum because she hasn't gotten her own way."

Ayleth shook her head and took a deep breath. "You're just trying to upset me, to make me lose control."

"No, I'm trying to shake you out of this stupor that this man has put you under! I've half a mind to bespell him again so you can see the idiocy that you're following!"

Ayleth drew back in her own fury. "You will not touch him—with your magic, or your weapons!"

"Or what?"

"Or I will touch you and then we'll see who's sitting on her pretty skirts." Ayleth scanned down her mother's pretty clothing and raised an eyebrow. "I see you've had your nails done before riding to war, mother. Such a mark of the warrior, that." Then she held up her own hands to show the short nails and calloused hands.

Her mother's eyes narrowed. "You play with fire, Ayleth. Don't make threats you don't have the balls to follow through."

"Like you did to Etan, you mean?"

"Who said those were empty threats?"

Ayleth swallowed, but didn't let her sudden despair show on her face. "You would have killed me, then?"

Her mother's eyes narrowed, but she hesitated. For a moment Ayleth's hope rose—her mother was angry, but—

Then her mother leaned in until they shared breath, her eyes locked and alight with rage. "If he'd taken you out from under my nose and turned you into his broodmare, yes. Absolutely. I will not allow your power to become his, no matter what it cost. Because I will always choose the good of my people first! Always! That is what a true ruler does!"

Those words, such an echo of Etan's heart—the true heart of a leader, of one willing to sacrifice for their people and for themselves… To hear it echoed by her mother in rage, to justify revenge…

Ayleth wanted to weep.

Etan was right. He'd been right. Her mother had meant it. Ayleth stumbled back a step in sheer dismay.

As her mother continued to hiss and press forward, believing that she was winning her point, Ayleth barely heard her words. Instead, everything that had happened throughout her life flashed through her mind and suddenly it all looked different…

Her mother's manipulations and power plays, all the ways her mother had turned her from certain people, convinced that they were wrong, or evil, or just not good enough… and all the ways Ayleth had trusted her mother's judgment and left those people, or taken her advice.

That had been the true deceit. The true naivete.

"I can't believe I believed in you," she whispered.

"Oh, always believe in me, Ayleth. I am a force to be reckoned with in this world. You're the one who's handing your power to men."

Ayleth blinked. "What about you and father?"

"Do you see your father here?"

"No, and not my husband either."

"Oh, he's on his way, don't you worry about that. No doubt impatient for his next chance to lift your skirts since that seems to be all you have to offer anymore—"

Ayleth slapped her. Hard.

They both stood there for a moment, a red handprint blooming on her mother's beautiful, smooth cheek.

Then Ayleth snarled, "Don't you ever disrespect my husband that way again."

When her mother's eyes went flat and that evil smile she had began to curl the sides of her mouth, Ayleth gave a little cry of rage and leaped at her—not to slap, or pull her hair. Ayleth reached out with all her training, taking a swing square at her mother's jaw that might have knocked her out cold if her mother hadn't had some training of her own, and the reflexes of a cat.

Ayleth shouldn't have warned her with the slap.

Her mother dodged just in time, the blow sliding off her averted chin. But using all her training—and all the fire of rage burning within her—Ayleth launched herself at her mother who was partially off balance, grabbing her shoulders, hooking her ankle and bearing her to the ground, where Ayleth leaped upon her.

Her mother hissed and spat like a cat, rolling and blocking—fighting as if for her life. Her reach was longer but Ayleth was stronger, and had trained a great deal more. She was faster.

They both grunted and squeaked, clawed and threw blows. Her mother tried to lift a leg and send Ayleth over her head, but Ayleth braced in time and kept her position of dominance.

And the longer they wrestled, her mother tired quickly. For a moment, Ayleth's heart leaped—she was going to win. She would knock her mother out and take her to the castle, let them deal with her.

But it seemed like the weaker her mother grew, suddenly Ayleth's limbs became heavy, and her breathing rasped. Until it was as if she fought through water.

What had happened to her body? Why was it failing her now, at this crucial stage? Had the traveling not kept her fit?

But then she saw her mother's lips moving and realized she was casting a spell.

Using magic on her daughter because she was afraid to lose?

"You cheat! Always! Lie and cheat—fight me like the warrior you claim to be, stop using your magic against me!"

"A smart woman fights to win and brings whatever weapons are at her disposal. You will not taunt me into weakening myself," her mother muttered through her teeth.

Ayleth grabbed both her mothers wrists and pinned her hands to the grass behind her head.

Because her mother's reach was longer, Ayleth was left hanging over her mother's snarling face, all her dismay and despair at realizing how deceived she'd been, forced on her by the close proximity to the sheer fury as her mother struggled.

"You… disappoint me," Ayleth said wearily.

"I know the feeling," her mother seethed.

With a growl of rage, Ayleth dropped her elbow for her mother's face, her mother turning away so it glanced off her ear, but as male voices rose nearby and the bond began to pulse with worry and love, Ayleth became a whirlwind, raining blows on her mother, fighting against the magic that wanted to slow her, to drag her to the ground.

Then she swung the heel of her hand into her mother's temple and her mother's entire body went slack underneath her.

Ayleth sat there a moment, panting, waiting. But her mother's face was utterly still, her body slack.

"Ayleth?! Ayleth!"

"We're in the walled garden!" she called, pushing to her feet and stepping back, remaining in defensive stance, though it would be difficult to kick with her skirts.

She didn't turn away from her mother until the door into the garden pulled wide with a grunt, and suddenly a gaggle of men, headed by Etan began to pour in.

Ayleth relaxed, her shoulders slumped. She wanted to cry, but she swallowed back the tears as they rushed towards her.

"Are you safe?! Ayleth! Are you harmed!"

"No, I'm fine. I just… she just took me by surprise—"

With a howl like a cat, her mother rolled and leaped to her feet in one movement. Twisting, her hand came up and Ayleth didn't even look, just whirled into a kick that smacked at the hand her mother had raised.

There was a crack and something grabbed at Ayleth's foot.

Then they both froze, her mother's eyes wide, staring at her hand, now covered in blood. Ayleth looked at it too—had she broken her mother's hand so badly?

But then she saw the tiny matt of hair on her mother's palm, and the gold chain hanging loose over her thumb and she gasped.

She tried to.

No air came in.

As the men rushed toward them, Ayleth's body suddenly lost all strength. She stumbled forward, her mouth opening and closing, but she wasn't getting enough air.

Her mother stared at her, eyes wide, as Ayleth clawed at her cloak, the bodice of her dress… but she stepped back when Ayleth tried to step forward, and her knees gave, tumbling her to the grass.

There was a male cry of rage from behind her, then Ayleth's chest exploded in pain.