Magna's Plea (The Fate Challenges) by Cherie Reich Page B

mephina glided into the room with the grace of a lithe dancer. The joining of Mephets, a messenger god, and Inashara, Goddess of Love, created the sacred mephinas. Their golden flesh sparkled in the magical candlelight. The woman-like body curtsied. Their dark hair draped forward from the action. Their two heads rested side by side and were attached to the body from their individual necks.
    “You requested us.” Determination set the masculine right head’s bearded jaw, and his lips pursed in a thin line.
    “We are at your service, my queen.” The feminine left head flashed an eager grin, her eyes as bright as liquid gold.
    “Yes, I need you to take a message to the Apenthans. Tell them we have captured their prince. If they do not surrender by dawn, then we will execute him. His head will grace our walls.” The queen waved her hand. “You may depart to your task.”
    “Your majesty,” the two heads said in agreement. The mephina spun around and left the throne room.
    “Send him to the dungeons and keep him chained. No one is allowed to visit him.” Queen Vyvian dismissed the guards.
    They snatched the prisoner.
    Magna watched in silence as the guards dragged the young man away. Her gaze flicked over to the picture of the Phoenix-Queen Amora. Purple eyes stared back at her. The same colored eyes as Prince Cyrun’s. Dread washed over her like Thean’s torrential downpours. She would bet her favorite winged horse that Prince Cyrun was more of a direct descendant of Phoenix-Queen Amora than most Royals.
    “Come to the banquet room. A feast awaits us. Tomorrow all this nasty business will be behind us.” Smiling at her children and consort, Queen Vyvian stood with a water nymph’s grace and motioned for them to exit the throne room. When she noticed Magna hadn’t moved from her chair, she paused. “What’s the matter, my dear?”
    Magna looked up. Her brothers and Father waited at the doorway, yet she focused upon her mother. “Must we execute him?”
    Vyvian waved for the others to leave them. Her cold fingers brushed against Magna’s cheek. “Yes, we must. If a promise of his death will end this attack upon our kingdom, then it is imperative. Come, child, let’s eat.”
    Magna stood, but any appetite she might have had vanished. “I have a headache. I wish to lie down in my rooms.”
    “I remember having headaches when I turned eighteen. The influx of our magic is strongest when we come into it. Go rest.”
    “Thank you.” Magna hesitated while her mother and remaining guards left the throne room.
    As soon as they had gone, Magna scurried to the hidden passage where Fava awaited her. “Fava, return to my rooms. If anyone asks, I’m resting and not to be disturbed.” She slung the cloak around her shoulders and fastened the golden phoenix broach. Magna shooed her servant away. “Go!”
    She didn’t wait for Fava’s response. Her cloak flapped around her legs as she weaved through the labyrinth of hidden passageways down to the dungeons. Blue light bathed the path here and there from the faint magical lamps. The magic’s odor reminded her of the air before a thunderstorm.
    A set of discolored stones—more white than gray—let her know she’d arrived at the hidden entrance to the dungeons. She pressed her ear against the cool rocks. No sounds penetrated the door. She slid a stone panel to the right. Voices drifted toward her. She froze and held her breath.
    “It’ll all be over by morning.”
    “Think they’ll go for it?”
    “Of course, unless they’re stupid.” The guard laughed. “Then again, they are Apenthans.”
    The other guard chortled. Metal raked against metal. “Ready to meet Hypogaia, Prince? You ’ave a one-stop journey to the Underworld at the sun’s light.”
    “Won’t you talk to us?” Laughter shrieked down the stone walls. “Come, Markyn. Let’s get some grub.”
    “I ’ope they ’ave somethin’ better than leek stew. I’m tired of leeks.”
    “Me too.”