Fires of War (War and Deceit #4) - Erin O'Kane

Well, what a year this has been.

Other than the world falling apart, I made the decision to become a full-time author. Within that time, I wrote and published the whole War and Deceit series.

I wouldn’t have been able to do that without my family and team behind me. So, to everyone who picked this series up on a whim, thank you, it means the world to me.

Galandell - The Elf Queen

After the attack

“You will not take him!”

Pulling my consciousness back into my body with all of my will, I’m greeted by screams, both my own and those of the snivelling body at my feet.

No, that won’t do.

Immediately, I grit my teeth and stop screaming, no matter how agonising the pain in my head is. Weakness is not something tolerated here. Spasms rack my body, and I can feel something wet on my lips, so I’m sure my nose is bleeding again. Crossing into the consciousness of the forsaken is always painful, especially when I’m controlling an army of them, but to be in the mind of one when it’s being wrenched away from me…when that bitch Clarissa is trying to take him from me…

Icy rage floods my system, and just when I think it’s going to overwhelm me, to take over and break the calm mask I’ve built, that familiar, inky blackness throbs in the back of my mind, sweeping through my body. I sigh in pleasure as it wipes away all of my insecurities, doubts, and pain, leaving only blissful numbness and a crystal clear path of what I need to do.

Opening my eyes, I look down at the screaming creature my hands are currently wrist deep in. With a single thought, the creature stops making that goddess-awful noise as the body goes still and begins to decompose. Pulling my hands from its corpse, I sneer down at it with distaste. At some point, it was an elf, one of my subjects. It served its purpose, but right now, it’s rotting on my new dress.

I can feel the pleasure of the darkness in my mind at my callousness, and at some point, that would have bothered me. When did I stop caring about my subjects?

Movement at my side catches my attention, and I turn to see my ladies-in-waiting with bowls of water and towels. With a nod, I allow them to approach, and they begin the process of cleaning me. The body at my feet is removed, but I’m too busy thinking about the little witch who nearly ruined my plans.

How did she do it? How did a little nobody half-elf slut manage to break my spell? No, no. She didn’t break the spell, but she was close. When she touched the forsaken Kaelir, I felt my control over him begin to slip. Well, I wasn’t going to let her have him, so I immediately severed our connection, but it cost me a lot, if my shaking limbs are anything to go by.

She’s destroyed my army. It’s taken me decades to learn to create and control the forsaken, and in the span of hours, she destroyed them. She’s turned my people against me, they all seem to love her. Why? Why don’t they love me?

Patience, my queen, the darkness purrs in my mind. We will rebuild the army, bigger and better than before, then no one will stand against you. When they see your power, they will flock to you. They will worship you. The words incite pleasure in me that no male has been able to achieve in decades, and it brings a smile to my face at the image it produces. And then we go after the girl.

It’s right. Clarissa is just a scared little girl compared to me. She may have won the first battle, but she won’t win the war. And when I do finally get her, I’m going to destroy her.

“You should smile. Today is a happy day,” the woman behind me insists as she pulls at my hair, her actions as gruff as her words as she attempts to style it into something suitable for the occasion. Once again, I find myself in front of a mirror, being poked, prodded, and made up, my hair fashioned until I hardly recognise the woman before me.

For years, my hair and I have had a love-hate relationship, something I could shield myself behind and use to hide my face. But in a land where the people were blessed with tan skin and blond locks, my dark hair

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