The Black Queen (Book 6) Read Online Free PDF

ruler of the Fey Empire, this place would be heavily guarded. Only true heirs will be drawn to it, and only the one who will sit on the Throne will be comfortable in it.”
    He glanced at the Throne, at the swirling blackness of its base. It looked comfortable to him. Too comfortable.
    “Why hasn’t anyone brought Arianna here?” he asked.
    “She has no Shaman.”
    “If this is important, then a Shaman should have gone to her.”
    “One did,” Madot said. “Arianna will not leave Blue Isle.”
    That wasn’t entirely true. Arianna saw no need to leave Blue Isle. She believed she could rule as well from there as she could from any other place in the Fey Empire. Apparently, no one had explained the Black Throne to her. The Shaman had probably demanded that she come here, and Arianna, stubborn as always, hadn’t bowed to a demand.
    Madot was watching him. For the first time since he had come to the Mountains, his impatience had left him. He didn’t want to approach the Throne but he was drawn to it at the same time, the same way he had been drawn to the Place of Power. All those years here he had controlled that feeling.
    What would giving in now do?
    His dead mother’s face flickered across his Vision. It was a brief flash, and then nothing. He wasn’t supposed to be able to see her here. He could only see her in a Place of Power, and then only when she wanted to visit him. She hadn’t visited him in over a decade.
    He tried to conjure her again, but could not. Whatever had passed across his Vision was gone now. The near-Sighting had left him cold and a little shaken. Had she been trying to warn him? Or had he simply seen something he’d wished he could see? Someone who could give him advice at this moment?
    He did not look at Madot again. He took a deep breath. Did he want the Black Throne? No. He had never wanted to rule. From his childhood, when his grandfather had died and Gift had been left in charge of the Fey on Blue Isle, he had not wanted to rule. But he had ruled, and he had hated it. He couldn’t imagine a life like that. It was not a life he wanted to live.
    The Throne pulsed. Its blackness seemed to move outward. The crest on the wall behind it seemed even more vibrant, more alive, than it had earlier. The sword glistened in the reddish light. For a moment, he thought he could see blood dripping out of the impaled hearts.
    He took one step closer. With his right hand he reached out, and touched the Throne’s arm. It was cold. The chill shocked him. Then it warmed and he felt how very comfortable it would be. It would hold him, embrace him. It would be so easy to slip into the Throne, to become part of it.
    But something within him resisted the simplicity of it. The Throne was calling to his Black Blood, not to him. He did not want to sit there. Now or ever.
    He started to pull his hand away, but the blackness reached out and enveloped him. It felt like the warm and reassuring grip of a friend, questioning him, warning him that he was making a mistake. He stared down, saw that his hand was covered in blackness.
    “No,” he said and yanked.
    As the Throne released him, golden light shot from his hand and the place he had touched. It was so bright he had to close his eyes. He tumbled backwards and the fall seemed to take forever.
    He could see the light through his eyelids. He brought an arm over his eyes, but it was too late. The light flowed inside his mind, illuminated all the dark corners, and threaded through his Vision. He tried to push the light out, but he could not. Instead it reached inside that part of him where his magick lived, and tapped.
    The familiar feeling of the world spinning, the only acknowledgment that a Vision was coming, entrapped him. He tried to prevent it. He wasn’t sure if this was a Vision sent by the Powers or something triggered by Throne. And he wasn’t sure if those two things were all that different.
    He felt his body land on the stone and then the spinning began