CHAPTER TWELVE

THE DHIBIR COURT

BEIRA, QUEEN OF WINTER

The Queen of Winter raised her hammer and channeled magic to increase the tempest. The power flowing through her increased, giving her a pleasurable tingling sensation that neared the edge of orgasm. Overhead, more clouds added to the mass of those turning in a circle as they darkened from light to dark grey. Thunder boomed and lightning ripped across the sky. Winds lifted her from the mountaintop and carried her above the storm, where she stared at the full Long Nights Moon, also a Blue Moon — the second full moon of the month. There would be magic rampant in the world tonight.
The last two days of storms and orgy sex had been building up to the double moon on the longest night of the year and the start of winter, when her powers naturally heightened.
Tonight, death and blood magics would add to the mix, combining all the most potent powers. The culmination of the celebration in her castle would elevate her magic to a level she’d not experienced since before her banishment from Inisfail.
She held her hammer aloft, collecting lightning, thunder, and the light of the double moon. Power crackled over her skin, and she leapt from the sky. As the clouds circled above, so the dark sea rotated below. Surrounded by standing waves, the massive whirlpool spun, revealing the basalt column on the sea floor. It was rare the whirlpool grew so large for so many days in a row. When uncovered, the grotto in the spire acted as a focus, collecting all the magic for miles around.
All hers to do with as she pleased. It was the perfect time for casting the spell she’d been planning for two years to achieve the revenge she’d craved for decades.
Directing the wind to transport her to her castle atop the mountain Ben Nevis, she bypassed the towers and turrets of ice to soar into the banquet hall, where hundreds of men and women awaited her to commence the final night of festivities.
Long tables draped in snow white tablecloths, and filled with thus far empty place settings, lined the length of the hall. Some guests wore elaborate costumes. A few next to nothing. Those in attendance from the start looked a little worse for wear, while those late to the party were…fresh. She smiled in anticipation. They wouldn’t remain fresh for long.
A row of twenty women with differing hair colors, but sharing the traits of pale, luminous beauty and slender builds, wore floor-length dresses to hide their deer-hooved feet. The Baobhan Sith had a large part to play tonight.
“Celebrants of the Winter Festival.” Beira raised her hammer and sent forks of lightning dancing through the air. Catcalls and whistles greeted her as she landed on the dais at the head of the tables.
“Tonight, we take the first step on our journey home. Inisfail Fae call us Alba Fae. They think because they banished us when they were stronger, that we belong where we ended up. That they could rip us away from our home and we would forget!”
Hisses and boos rang through the crowd.
“But we are not Alba Fae — we are the Dhibir. The exiled. And we will return to take what is rightfully ours!”
Rampant cheering echoed around the room.
Beira waved her arm in a sweeping gesture at the long tables. Platters of food and drink appeared. “Indulge yourselves.” She picked up a goblet and raised it in a toast, adding in an undertone, “You’ll need your strength.”
More whistling and cheering as people took their seats.Taking her place at the head of the tables, Beira followed her own advice and filled her plate. She’d need her strength for the spell she wanted to cast.
Shisti had been at the Raven Court for two years and hadn’t snared the prince who would be King. While Beira hadn’t forgiven the girl’s father for what he’d done to their daughter, there hadn’t been any point to wasting the opportunity having Shisti at the Raven Court presented.
The spell Beira had placed on her daughter should be finishing now — the fogs that protected Inisfail Fae weakening and thinning. Her magic would never have worked from the outside, but placed on a guest of the court, well, it was always easier to take down an enemy stronghold from within. 
Two years gone by, and no heir. Not even a pregnancy. That was disappointing, and about all the time Beira had to waste. Who knew when The Morrigan would return? She was a much more fearsome adversary than her sons. If the Goddess of War and Death came back, things would quickly get infinitely more complicated.
When Beira’s spell completed its dismantling work, she would be ready. Now to prepare. Halfway through the meals, a squat man with shaggy red hair and saucer-shaped blue eyes, one of the many Boggarts, indistinguishable from the others in the castle, made his way around the feasting crowd and sidled up to her. “Mistress, your guest has arrived.”
“Good.” Beira set her fork down and dabbed at her lips with a napkin. “Bring her to me.”
He bowed. “Right away, Majesty.”
Artemis made her entrance, pausing at the top of the stairs. Her long chestnut-colored hair hung loose down her back, and green eyes lit with poorly hidden interest scanned the room. She wore black leather straps and gold armor, more ornate than functional, that displayed swaths of bare golden skin. The goddess was in no danger here, although her carefully guarded virginity might be if she planned to stay for any length of time. There was no shortage of men and women happy to relieve her of such a…burden. 
The virginity of a goddess would add power, and an ironic touch, to the spell.
“Artemis.” Beira touched the back of the seat next to hers. “Welcome to our festival. Sit, and we can talk.”
Hundreds of eyes fixed on the Goddess of the Hunt as she made her way to the proffered chair. Artemis filled a plate, a ubiquitous servant poured wine, and the goddess started her meal.
Beira sipped from her goblet. “Will you stay for the whole celebration?” Virgin the goddess may be, but far from innocent. She’d partaken of pleasure in Beira’s court before. It was no coincidence Artemis had arrived tonight of all nights.
“Perhaps.” Artemis’ lips twitched in a half-smile. “I wanted to check in and see how things are progressing. Gaia is growing impatient. She wants the Satyrs.”
“Not to worry.” Beira pushed her plate away, eager to get on with things. “My magic is shredding the fog around Inisfail Fae territory as we speak. Rally your Amazons. I’ll be able to open a portal for them soon, and they can hunt Satyrs to their hearts’ content. Gaia’s vengeance for Echo will be complete.”
“I love a good hunt.” Artemis sipped her wine. “Gaia will be pleased with this news.”
The midnight hour would be upon them soon. Beira stood and clapped her hands once. Tables and chairs vanished to make room for dancing. Musicians moved to their spelled instruments, and music drifted through the hall. Dancers paired up, and the waltzing began. Every touch, step, emotion, and breath caught by the music added potency to her magic.
Catching the eye of a Blue Man across the hall, Beira inclined her head toward Artemis. The man’s eyes lit up, and he turned his attention to the goddess. He moved toward her with a singular predatory grace, muscles flexing under his blue skin. For a moment, Beira regretted not keeping him to herself, but she’d get more power from the pleasure of others tonight.
“For me?” Artemis purred.
“I thought you might like him. The Blue Men are infrequent visitors to my court. He should satisfy your taste for an exotic curiosity.”
“He does look good enough to eat.” Artemis allowed herself to be lifted from her chair and swept into the throng of dancers.
The waltzing changed from almost prim to manic. Formal costumes shredded under hands eager to touch bare flesh. New rhythmic motions took over, moans and the sound of skin slapping against skin added to the music. Beira felt every stroke, caress, thrust, kiss, and orgasm as if it was happening to her.
“Ladies.” Beira leaned forward in her chair. As one, every Baobhan Sith glanced up from her partner. “It’s time.”
The vampires laughed and drew sharp talons across the necks of their partners.
Blood magic added to the sex magic, making the atmosphere in the room even more heady. That near orgasmic feeling Beira had been feeling all night pushed her closer to the edge and her eyes half closed. Beira reached into the earth for the tunnels through the mountain that ran deeper, under the sea, to the basalt column in the center of the maelstrom. She opened herself to the store of magic waiting for her.
The first thrust was almost too much, more pain than pleasure as power forced itself inside her. She swallowed convulsively as magic slid down her throat, then gasped as pure energy lifted her from her seat to float in the air.
Magic stroked her skin, traced her curves, and pulsed into her in waves, filling her, sending shafts of desire all the way to her core. What felt like hands trailed down her belly, barely touching, sending shivers of desire through her.
She parted her thighs, the magic swirling and pressing against her center, slow and sweet. Raw energy filled her, so tight and heavy. Deeper and more intimate than any sex with a man. The lust grew more intense, taking her hot and hard, over and over, faster and faster.
The first of the men the Baobhan Sith preyed on succumbed, then the others fell, one after another. Their deaths added the final power she needed.
The pleasure and magic crested, rushing in like a tsunami as the standing waves in the sea dropped and the whirlpool shattered, forcing the last of the magic to empty into her. Icy winter blue fire rippled over her skin and spread through her stomach and chest, out into her limbs until her fingers and toes tingled.
As her orgasm went on, she gathered the energy in the hall, pulling what she wanted. Hunting instincts from the Baobhan Sith. The ability to create storms from the Blue Men of the Minch. Some foretelling talents from the Bean-nighe. Lightning from the dragon, Beithir-nimh. Shape-shifting from the Kelpies. The orgasm of a virgin goddess. A touch of spell casting and life from herself. 
Carefully, Beira crafted the magic into a tiny ball, gave it sentience, and released it on a gentle whirlwind. Storm clouds moved southwest, across Alba and the sea, toward Inisfail Fae. 
Above enemy territory, the storm sought a way through the mystical fogs. Forks of lightning struck, and there… in the sky, a rift. Her spell working perfectly. The cloud drifted through, carrying the ball of magic. She directed the wisp toward the black edifice of Raven Castle. Spiraling up the stairs, Beira sent the magic under Shisti’s door, but her room was empty. 
Beira spun her magic out of a window and rose up the side of a tower to peer into Fechin’s room. Maybe Shisti had finally made some progress. But there was a different woman in Fechin’s bed.
Disdain rose in her. Shisti should have been rid of her competition long ago. Her daughter always had too soft a heart. Happiness required the ruthlessness to take it and keep it. A lesson she’d hoped her daughter would have learned by now. Twisting downward, Beira let her senses open, spreading her cloud thin. There. Shisti wasn’t far away.  
She lay over a table, arms bound over her head, while the wrong brother thrust into her. What was Shisti’s game? Perhaps her visions had changed and Fechin didn’t become King anymore.    
Beira guided the ball of magic to Shisti’s womb, only to find it already occupied — by a boy with magic that felt like wolf. So Vilkos was to be King, not Fechin. That change in circumstances didn’t alter Beira’s plan. Coaxing the magic to take form, she settled her magic against the boy. This child would be a girl, naturally.
And when she was born first, someday the Raven Throne would return to a Queen.