The power that flooded my veins, pouring out to coat the vines in thick, vibrant colors; it wasn't enough. It would never be enough.

"Sym," I said, gritting my teeth through the pain of my depleting powers. "It's not working. We're running out of options."

He held my hand, our energies combined; but he wasn't using his full array of abilities, I could tell. He was holding back, and I had a feeling it was for the same reason as me.

A reason we'd been keeping to ourselves for far too long.

"We're going to have no choice," he whispered, squeezing my hand, side-glancing at me. His eyes glowed with strength, but I saw the frustrated lines in his face, the tension in his corded neck. "He's going to spill the news any moment now, because you and I both know—he knows."

I bunched my eyebrows, chewing the insides of my mouth. "Has he known from the start? Before even we figured it out?"

Sym gave a jerky nod. "He must have. Since before our memories came back. Someone, something woke his mind and told him everything."

I opened my mouth to retort, but suddenly my powers broke one barrier around the vines, drawing my attention. One tiny layer melted, allowing me to tune in to parts of what was going on in that clearing.

I channeled on the conversation beyond the vines and held my breath.

"Ossenna and Sym! Mommy and Daddy!"

I froze, my hand rigid in Sym's. My gaze went to his immediately, to find out if he'd heard it too.

The shock written all over his face told me that yes, he had.

Sinclair was telling Gwenore our longest guarded secret, and it would likely turn her against us. Turn everyone against us.

"Shit," Sym spat, letting go of my hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. He never cursed, not like that.

The sudden break of our connection sent him teetering backwards, and I grabbed his fingers in time to help him regain some balance.

I'd known someday it'd come back to bite us in the ass, but I'd prayed to have more time. To come up with an explanation, to give reasons why we'd done this, who we'd done it for. And I'd prayed to not have to reveal things like this in battle.

But once I regained my memories, once I realized who Sinclair truly was...

All the flashes came to me in dizzying whooshes.

That occurrence when we woke one morning, after one of our first rolls in the sheets. We smiled and beamed at one another for having gotten away with something so forbidden. Ace-mages weren't to be affectionate with one another, and most definitely weren't to sleep together. We'd tried for years to resist temptation, but nineteen years ago, we'd caved for the first time.

Flash.

I was touching my belly, sensing the being within it. The baby. Something I, as an Ace-mage, was never supposed to experience. Well, not with Sym, at least. Had I wanted a child, a descendant, I was to petition King Hendry, and he'd assist with finding a human man to breed with. Not this—not two pure mages making love and creating an even purer baby.

I peered at my reflection, at my body changing before my eyes. It'd be a matter of time before others would notice my changes. For all I knew, Otho and Arden already had, perceptive as they were.

"We shouldn't keep it," said Sym, appearing in my vision. He also touched my belly, but frowned. He, like I, knew the truth, knew the dangers. "It's too risky. For it, and for us. For the kingdom."

But I'd felt the baby in me, and I'd grown attached far too fast. It fed from me; I nourished it. It became a part of me, and though I'd lied to Sym—it took me months to tell him we'd conceived a child—I didn't want to lie anymore.

But if I didn't, we'd both die. We'd all die—the baby in me wouldn't survive, either. Never would Hendry let such a potentially powerful being live.

Not only had we fallen for one another, coupled, continued to have sex when we weren't supposed to; but we'd mated, we'd created a child. And for that, we could both be hanged.

"I can't do it," I told him, stroking my gut, smiling at the idea of holding my child in my arms.

But I never would. I never could.

Flash.

I spent most of my pregnancy hiding the truth, placing spells upon myself to fool those surrounding me into not seeing my growing stomach. It was a sort of morphing spell, allowing only myself and Sym to be aware of what was going on. No one else ever knew; or so, I'd hoped.

Weeks before I knew I'd give birth, I sought a different spell; one to cloak powerful magic, to keep one's energies hidden. And to sever ties with blood and family, to erase any and all connection to us.

"He won't survive in the castle," I told Sym, in one of our secret moments exchanged between meetings. "The instant I give birth, he'll be in danger."

"He?" Sym's eyes watered, and I caught the twitching of his lips, the rising of his shoulders in pride. "It's a boy?"

I'd known from the instant his seed made a home in my core. The way the baby fluttered inside me, the way its mind connected to mine: I knew.

And I also knew I'd never get to bond with him, never get to hear him call me Mother, see him cajoled by his father, tucked in and loved and cared for.

"We need something to blur his mind, to ensure he has no idea who he is. And we," I sniffled, my hand on Sym's arm, "need to forget, as well. In case we're ever discovered, it needs to look like we had no idea what we did."

He went along with it, of course. Sym was a stubborn, stern man; but when it came to me, he crumbled. He melted. He heeded my advice and never disagreed with me, wary of my temper. Wary of me always being right.

For once, I wished he would have stopped me. I wished he would have cut out the thing in my belly and thrown it into a river and watched it drown.

Especially now, to witness what this thing had become.

Sinclair.

Flash.

The baby was born but disappeared almost as quickly as it had arrived. Sym had taken all the precautions and smuggled the infant out of Acewood. Once he returned, I enacted a pungent memory spell on us. Potent enough to never allow us even the slightest inkling of what we'd done.

Until a few days ago, we didn't know. The spell had worked so well...

And now, the Queen of Acewood was finding out the truth, as we were.

"What's going on?" Ysac barged over, glaring at the vines. "Any progress? Can we get in?"

"Is she," Teodric slithered up behind him, gulping, "dead?"

I shuddered at the notion of my offspring killing Gwenore but shook my head. "Not that I can sense."

"You can sense stuff beyond there?" Ysac gestured at the barrier. "Do you know what's going on?"

Sym and I exchanged a glance, a slew of words traveling between our minds.

"We can't tell them anything yet," he said, his gaze wide and insistent as it poured into mine.

"I agree, but they're going to figure it out."

"Not if we don't get through those enchantments first." Sym's eyebrows scrunched. "We need to dig deeper into our reserves."

"But," I puffed out my lower lip, "what if we need those reserves to fight them? You know they won't let us flee."

He grunted. "We have to take the risk. If we don't intervene soon..."

I nodded, not needing to add anything else. We both knew what was at stake, and how Gwenore's life grew closer to its end the longer she was sealed in there with him. With them. I'd detected our other foes' arrival moments ago and had no doubt our time was running thin.

"Guys?" Ysac shoved himself between us, glaring at us in turn. "We don't have time for your cutesy, secretive exchanges. What is going on?" He set his hands on his hips, waiting.

"You must let us work," said Sym, gripping Ysac by the shoulders to move him out of the way. The jester used all his strength—more than I'd expect a human to have—but ultimately couldn't fight Sym's dominance.

He sulked, crossing his arms as he sneered at us. "Then work. Quit your telepathic conversations to keep us excluded and get Gwenore out of there."

Teodric stood behind him, doing everything he could to look fierce and impatient; but I saw the fear radiating around him. I heard the thump thump of his heart as reality settled in.

He knew, like we did, that this delicate situation could go haywire at any moment.

Sym and I twisted to face the magical barrier again. I continued to catch bits and pieces of a conversation, mostly Sinclair and Otho speaking.

My blood curdled at the sound of his voice; the betrayer himself who'd come to pluck our innocent queen from his trap.

It shocked me he hadn't sliced her throat yet.

And to use Sinclair against us...to send him right into the lion's den—Acewood—and trigger us like this, make us think he'd be on our side, after all this time...such sly, sneaky moves from Otho.

Day after day, he proved how much more cunning he was, how he'd always been several steps ahead of us.

The urge to end his life became stronger and more painful inside me with every breath I took. Such a foul but formidable foe, he was. If we managed to contain him, stop him...

But he trained Sinclair to hate us. He coerced Luned into being enraged and willing to sacrifice her own blood for a throne that was never hers. And he'd persuaded Jack to go on a rampage against those who'd sheltered and fed him for so long.

We'd let Sinclair in with open arms. We'd given him Arden's cloak and veil, thinking the power we sensed in him was real, raw, but could be used for good.

Oh, how wrong we were.

"So...what, we concentrate every ounce we have?" I nudged Sym, who seemed as absorbed in the magic as I was.

"Do you have any other ideas?" He groaned. "We either stand here and wait to retrieve a body, or we force our way in and maybe make it out semi-alive."

I did in fact have an idea, but I didn't know if I'd be able to activate the powers it required. For months, I'd been learning new things, preparing myself for upcoming threats. Deep down, I'd always known more would come. With Hendry dead, and the queens separated, I'd been readying myself for the worst for a long time.

"Nothing concrete," I lied, joining my hand to his. "So I guess we really do have to use all we've got. Because if she dies..."

"Our entire purpose is null. We'll die." He sniffled and perked up, straightening his back as he extended his right arm; I extended my left.

"We may die tonight, anyway," I mumbled, the words like acid on my tongue. It was plausible; barging in there to face two mages, a mermaid, and a violent human? Powerful as Sym and I were, I doubted we'd be a match for those four, monsters so hellbent on blood and revenge.

"Then we die saving our only hope," he jutted his chin at the vines, "Gwenore. She must remain the ruler of Acewood, or else all we've done was for naught."

I squeezed his hand. "Then let's do it. Let's channel all we have into one big blast and pray for the best."

And in the depths of my soul, I also prayed that that blast might shoot into our son's heart and end his tirade before all our hard work backfired.

♥♦♣♠