The last thing Ema remembered was fainting.

Not that she necessarily remembered fainting.

She remembered arriving in a strange place—a normal looking house—and was half carried to a certain room. The second her body was placed on the bed, the world went blank. From exhaustion or pain, she had no idea, though it probably had something to do with the explosion of that horrible spaceship. The world had been rather all over the place since then.

Ema woke to find herself in what she presumed was the same room and bed she’d passed out in. The room was dark aside from the small orb of light floating around a chair. It looked like a chair at least. Ema didn’t need to see who was sitting there to know who it was. She always knew when he was near. His scent hit her seconds later. She’d come to know it well since working with the Lyriumian Court.

“Jay.”

A sound of a book closing was followed by movement. The Fae male appeared at her bedside with a hint of worry in his azure-blue eyes. “Enjoy your beauty sleep?”

“Quite.”

“It’s only been three days.”

The number brough Ema to full attention as she convinced her body to sit upright, much to the male’s surprise. He gave her a run-down off what took place while she was out and, were Ema being completely honest, none of it sound ridiculously important.

The Queen and her partner were welcomed back after everyone recovered fully. That, from the sounds of things, was the main event. This morning, the Queen made her way to the Palace to “reinstate her dominance,” as the male put it. Ema was to see her as soon as she recovered.

Upon hearing this, Ema pulled a pillow over her face with a groan.

Jay pulled it from her. “She’s not that bad.”

She gave him a sour look. “This coming from the guy who, from what I’ve heard, has none of her respect. At all.”

Jay made an almost-wounded noise. “Not true! We just have an . . . interesting relationship.”

* * * * * * * *

Ema hadn’t expected the Palace to be built into the stone cliff face. She’d seen castles and palaces build ­from stone of course, but have never seen one carved into a cliff. It was wonderous to look at, especially from the outside. Something from a fantasy novel.

She was not alone here. Jay had insisted he go with her so she “doesn’t get lost in that fucking maze”. Ema didn’t mind the Fae’s company. Honestly, he was growing on her.

The pair entered the Palace, Jay holding the massive front door open for her as a way to show off his immortal strength. At least, that’s how it came across. He proceeded to lead her down several hallways—all some variation of silver and/or white with some cases of a very pale blue. Ema swore he got lost at this point but decided not to call attention to it. Surely there were several ways to get to where they were going. Besides, it was possible he was giving her the tour, right?

They made their way up a spiral staircase, yet another hallway they reached what looked like a ballroom. It had two sets of curved staircases leading up to a separate smaller room. Everything in this impossibly large room was painted with black, gold, silver and blue. Another corridor, this one straight, was found a little left of the dais on which a single throne sat. This corridor seemed to be endless.

It eventually opened into a crossroad and a guarded door. Two sets of fully armed guards stood to each side. Jay waved at them, holding up a piece of paper with a sigal printed on it. The guards bowed, allowing the pair to enter.

The throne room took Ema’s breath away.

The room looked massive, though the large empty space may have had something to do with that. Armed guards in varying types of armour lined the two side walls, as well as the sides of the door. Cream-coloured pillars were carved out of the stone wall at regular intervals, a painted image between each one.

Ema didn’t have time to stop and be lost in wonder. Her attention was focused on the throne, resting atop a dais which could be reached by few thin steps appearing to have been, much like the throne and decorative columns, carved out of the wall and floor. It was carved out of the wall behind it, painted white and covered in gemstones. Silver beams came from its side in a show of light, mixing with the painted images.

But even that wasn’t the most impressive thing. Ema’s eyes were suck on the woman seated on the throne.

Her frizzy hair was twisted into a high bun made possible, presumably, by hair extensions, with a small amount of hair hanging around her shoulders. A silver diadem with diamond drops falling down her hair rested on her brow. He face was painted with makeup covering the scars and tattoos the stories spoke of—it made her look like an entirely different woman to the one ‘rescued’ days ago. A silver-chained necklace with a strange looking half-orb embedded on a gold plate was around her neck, the charm resting on her breasts.

Though, if she were being honest with herself, the thing that really caught Ema’s attention was the dress. Strapless, the gold was bright against her dark skin, as were the sparkling swirling black patterns covering the top half. Silver dots appeared whenever she moved, giving the impression of stars in a night sky. The patterns faded into the gilded skirts. It hugged her body perfectly.

The woman stood, the dress moving fluidly with her. Ema couldn’t help but stare as the woman waved a hand. The guards within the room bowed and left, no doubt lingering outside in case something went wrong. The woman then turned toward Jay who bowed—and actual proper bow and everything—before leaving Ema with the woman. He shot her a wink as he closed the door. Alone, the woman’s gaze fixated on Ema.

This was the woman the stories spoke of. The one who destroyed one of Terpola’s cities, leaving it nothing but ruins. The feared murderess who would kill without a second thought. This was the one who, with a wave of her hand, the right kind of glance, could bring life or death to any world, who could tilt the scales of good and evil with but a thought. This was the one who radiated with power.

This was the Photon Queen of Lyriumia in all her glory.