The Magic Queen by Jovee Winters

—Russian for fish, since that’s exactly what Fable was to Baba now—had made her bleed. Well played, but she was done playing.
    “You will show me your male!” Fable pressed on, her words echoing with the winds so that she seemed to be everywhere at once.
    Tipping over the bottle, Baba snatched up a huge fistful of the powder. “You seem to really have a hard-on for my male. What’s the matter, ryba ? Owiot not man enough for you?”
    A scream of rage mingled with a roll of thunder. If only Baba wasn’t blinded by this goddess- awful fog, she’d have ended this long ago. Fable was strong, but she was too emotional, too caught up in her fury to think rationally. She was bound to trip up soon.
    Baba would only have to endure this a tiny bit longer. She really did know what she was doing, though she hadn’t quite expected the onslaught of Fable’s power to be so ferocious.
    Baba’s blood sizzled with a rush of endorphins. Sand tore at her face, rubbing her raw. Freyr’s tacky tongue was back on her nipple, though this time, it seemed more like he’d done it to hang on than to make out.
    Clutching the powder tight, Baba stood stock-still, listening with all her might. And even though a storm raged she smirked. Able to control water, Fable had no doubt crafted some sort of a bridge to reach across to Baba’s island.
    The purpose of this game was for Baba to kill Owiot or Fable to end Freyr—and also to figure out the riddle. That bit was proving to be a little more challenging since she didn’t have a clue what the riddle even was.
    For now, she’d focus on the first part: kill Owiot. Baba didn’t need to be in love with Freyr for her to not want to see him dead. She was rather partial to the baboon when it was all said and done.
    “Owiot,” she called, knowing he was close because she could hear the bell-link ringing in her head from the locator spell. “I think that maybe you and I have gotten off on the wrong foot, don’t you think? I don’t hate you. I just need to kill you. It’s nothing personal, really.”
    The male was mere yards away. Finally, she put her plan into place. She cast the powder out of her hands, directing its flow some twenty feet to the left of her. The shrill, piercing cry of a baby rent the space between them.
    “A child, Fable! She’s hidden a child!” Owiot cried.
    And there, right there, she’d exposed his weakness. Owiot, the male made of stars and pining for the child he could never have could never allow harm to come to any child.
    And just as Baba knew the bleeding hearts would do, Fable sucked the darkness back into her gown and killed the winds. Owiot and Fable looked around frantically for the source of the child’s cries. In Baba’s hands was a vial of black death. Fable and Owiot paused, looking puzzled, knowing they’d heard the cries of an innocent, but finding nothing.
    “Oh, there’s no child. I just made you think it.” Baba shook the little pewter vial.
    Owiot and Fable held up their hands, tortured looks on both their faces as they realized that they’d come at Baba with everything they’d had, but in the end, she’d bested them.
    “There is however, death in here. I’m sorry, Owiot, I’m sure you’re a perfectly nice—”
    Ribbit. Ribbit. Ribbit.
    Freyr’s head popped free, and Baba groaned because she knew the instant Fable saw him, she’d put two and two together. A strong wind blew, snatching Freyr into the air. His cute little froggy legs dangled as he croaked and bellowed for all he was worth.
    Baba rolled her eyes. She’d had them too. Damn that insufferable idiot. Baba saw the flare of bloodlust rise in Fable’s eyes, and her spine stiffened. Like hell that woman would take away Baba’s male.
    Little known fact: Baba was wicked good at knife throwing. Slipping the knife from its sheath on her thigh, she aimed and threw.
    It landed with a dull thwack in Owiot’s foot, pinning him to the ground. He bellowed in fury and pain. And