by Jen McIntosh
She glanced round at the sound of Suriya’s inelegant entrance, and red-rimmed eyes said she’d been crying. Without hesitation, Suriya clambered up onto the parapet beside her and they sat in companionable silence for a moment. Then she leaned in close and rested her head on Renila’s shoulder. A choked sob escaped her, and she threw her arms around Suriya. She held Renila tight as she cried, and when she was done, she allowed Suriya to dry her tears with a handkerchief. Together, they watched the sun set, bathing the land in a golden glow. It was only when Farran arrived to begin his watch that Renila consented to be led back inside.
The kitchens were in the usual disarray that preceded dinner, so nobody noticed as Suriya guided Renila through the chaos. She led the way, moving quickly and quietly through the hallways, back to the rooms she shared with her brother. Their mother had once insisted they had their own separate chambers. It had lasted precisely a week before she relented, since they’d just slept in the same room anyway.
Suriya allowed Renila to build up the fire in the sitting room as she pulled out two heavy blankets from the chest in the bedroom. Lucan would join them soon, and Erion would be half a step behind him, so she pulled out two more and piled them neatly beside the fire.
Sure enough, the door banged open just as Suriya and Renila settled themselves into the sofa by the fireplace, snuggled together for warmth. Winter was a while away yet, but autumn nights in the north were just as chilly. Lucan breezed into the room with all the subtlety of a tornado, asking a dozen questions in the same breath. Erion followed and went straight to his mother as she opened the blanket and wrapped him inside it with her.
‘I’m sick,’ Suriya lied, cutting her brother off. He blinked, not understanding. ‘I require supper in my room, enough for four because I need company to see to my every whim. Lucan, go and tell Mal.’
He grinned and gave a mocking bow. ‘As you command, my lady.’
‘You should maybe be a little less liberal with the truth than that,’ Renila added as he made to leave, ‘or we’ll have Old Jayne up here to find out what’s wrong with her.’
Suriya winced. She hadn’t thought of that. The castle healer was of the belief that her patients would recover faster if she made being unwell unbearably unpleasant. Her examinations were brutal and her remedies even worse. Lucan nodded in understanding and darted from the room. As soon as the door closed behind him, Erion turned to his mother.
‘Are you going to tell me what happened earlier?’ he asked.
Suriya looked at Renila. She’d said nothing about the cause of her tears, but Suriya would have held her tongue regardless. Those were Renila’s secrets to share. Renila’s bright, amber eyes stared into the fire dancing in the hearth, and Suriya was struck by the thought that those eyes seemed to glow. Like embers, they flared and smouldered as she considered her words.
‘I had an argument with the Lady,’ she said, her voice low and cautious. ‘I was angry. It was best for me to leave before I said or did something I might later regret. I went for a ride to calm down, and when I returned … well, let’s just say that Captain Farran was rather vexed with me for leaving without a guard. He made his displeasure quite known. Apparently, I put myself and everyone here in danger with my recklessness.’
Erion frowned and caught Suriya’s eye. She bit her lip and offered a small shrug. It was clearly not the entire story. Suriya was particularly interested in what her mother and Renila had argued about. But neither of them wanted to push her on it. She would tell them when she was ready.
But there was one matter Suriya couldn’t let go. ‘Why did the Captain think you’d put the castle in danger?’
Renila winced as she realised what she’d said. Suriya watched her face closely. The emotions were easy to read. She was considering telling them the truth, before deciding that it was, in fact, too much for them to bear. But she also didn’t have it in her to look them in the eye and lie.
‘We live in troubled times, and our greatest defence is to remain hidden,’ she told them. ‘Captain Farran worries that any excursions may lead strangers to the castle. The secrecy of this place keeps us all safe. But you must say nothing to anyone – your mother would be most upset if she learned that I’d said anything.’
‘I promise,’ Suriya vowed, snuggling in closer. But all the warmth of Renila’s body could not chase the chill of fear from her bones. Two nights before, she and Lucan had dreamed of the Darklings in the Ravenswood. It was unlikely to be a coincidence that their mother and the Captain were now so on edge about security.
Lucan returned moments later, bearing a tray laden with food. His stunning moonstone eyes flickered straight to Suriya, and she saw the worry within them. She smiled softly, to let him know she was alright, but he continued to frown as he set the tray before the fire.
‘Venison pies,’ he announced, handing a pastry to Suriya. ‘Hot out the oven.’ Their fingers bumped as she took it, and his touch lingered, as if reassuring himself that she was alright.
‘My favourite,’ she said, avoiding his eyes.
‘I know,’ he replied. She glanced at the tray. As well as the pies, there were buttered leeks and carrots, crusty white bread, a wax-sealed round of Suriya’s favourite cheese and half a cherry cake dusted with sugar.
‘How did you get all that off Mal?’ she asked lightly, trying to cheer him up.
It seemed to work. He smirked and collapsed on the sofa beside her, but the worry didn’t leave his eyes. ‘I asked nicely,’ he said, bumping his shoulder against hers.
‘You stole it,’ she translated.
He grinned and shrugged noncommittally. And though the worry faded from his face, he stayed close to her throughout the meal. Suriya considered his behaviour as she bit into the buttery pastry – delicious, bursting with venison, onion, mushroom, bacon and rich gravy. She and Lucan had always been close. A single look at the other’s face was all they needed to know what they were thinking. But of late, they hadn’t even needed to look. It was as if they could sense the emotions rolling off the other, like waves crashing against the rocks. She didn’t know what to make of it all.
‘Tell us a story,’ Lucan blurted to Renila.
Suriya suppressed a sigh. He was trying to distract her. It wasn’t working.
‘What sort of story?’ asked Renila, tearing up the piece of bread in her hand.
‘Whatever you like.’
She gave him a long look, as if to say she knew what he was about. ‘Alright,’ she agreed. Her eyes grew distant as she delved into her mental library for options. It took her less time than usual to begin, as though this story had been sitting on the tip of her tongue all day, waiting to be told. ‘It is said that worlds are often shaped by wars, but never have those words been so true as during the last days of Sephiron’s Rebellion.
‘With the might of the Graced at their backs, the Immortals could finally drive back the darkness. They fought tirelessly to end it, to stop Sephiron and those who had joined with him. The death toll was beyond count.
‘Eventually, after decades of bloodshed, they found the answer they had sought. Four champions were chosen for the task – one from each of the Graced bloodlines, four chosen warriors who might lead the way to victory.
‘They led their armies in the last push against Sephiron’s fortress. They slaughtered the Darklings in their thousands. Even the rebel lords could not hold them back. They entered his fortress, leaving only death in their wake. And then the chosen four sought the Dark Prince Sephiron.
‘They were Sil Ciaron, jewel of the fierce Dragon clans; Princess Illyol, heart of the Elven forest court; Elucion, whose flame burned the brightest of all the Phoenix; and the Unicorn, Revalla, Lady of the Isles. Fierce were they, and terrible was their rage. And when they found him, they held him – for only when they stood together were these four equal to his might. They held him and bound him where he stood, sacrificing their lives so that Sephiron would never again wreak havoc on the people of their world. The
magic it took to bind him was vast and wild. Strong enough to level the surrounding land. It razed his fortress to the ground and left only ruins in its wake. Only that dark mountain Dar Kual, and the keep atop it remained. So poisoned was it by his twisted magic that not even the combined power of the Graced could cleanse it from this world.
‘And when all was done, and the Dark Prince vanquished, the rebels lay down their arms and surrendered.
‘But Sephiron’s heirs still lived, and the scourge of the Darklings could not be erased. They continued to slaughter wherever they went, long after their master was defeated. And so, the Graced delved once more into their magic. They erected cities to the north and south, to the east and west, and they named them for the fallen warriors who had saved them all. And between the cities was the Binding – a barrier of pure magic to contain the plague of the Darklings, to protect the world of mortals.
‘As if in answer to the call of that magic, the world itself shuddered and shook. The mountains to the west grew higher. The forests to the north grew thicker. The land to the east crumbled into the sea, and to the south the mountains erupted in fire. Everything within the Binding withered and died and so was born the Barren Lands.’ Renila paused and shook herself from her trance. She glanced at the children and, seeing their awe-struck faces, winked. ‘And that, children, is how the world as we know it took shape.’
The magic of her tale was broken, and Lucan scoffed. ‘That’s ridiculous!’
‘Aye,’ Erion agreed, shaking a disparaging head at his mother. ‘How old do you think we are to believe such nonsense?’
Renila laughed, and the three of them fell into comfortable conversation, discussing whatever shenanigans the boys planned for the morrow.
But Suriya stayed quiet, staring into the fire, unable to shake the feeling that there had been ancient truth in those words … and that Renila knew it.
Beneath a starlit sky, standing on a heather-clad hillside, a man waited. He was tall, broad-shouldered and powerful. Tattoos, so black they seemed to gobble up the faint moonlight, swirled over his bare arms and up his neck, curling over the shaved sides of his head. His remaining hair, long and tied in warrior braids, was dark as night and his eyes almost matched. And though he stood motionless, there was something imposing … menacing … about him. Like a sleeping wolf, with the promise of death lurking beneath his bronze skin.
A raven’s cry shattered the silence, but the man did not flinch. His black gaze remained impassive, staring steadily out into the night.
Watching.
Waiting.
Minutes passed. Hours perhaps. The rise and fall of his chest the only sign that he was, in fact, living, and not just a statue carved in flesh.
But his patience was rewarded.
Without warning, a woman appeared, as if stepping out of the air itself. Her hair was moon-white and her eyes were as vast and mysterious as the night sky. Yet her face was young and lovely. Breathtaking. Unearthly. Inhuman.
The man seemed unperturbed by either the manner or quality of her appearance. He did not even turn his head to greet her as she joined him.
‘You should not have come,’ he said, his voice little more than a deep, dark rumble in the night.
‘I had no choice. I need your help,’ she replied, as cold and distant as the stars.
He snorted. ‘Tell me something I don’t know.’
‘Her power stirs. I cannot keep her hidden much longer.’
‘Her power? Or theirs?’
The woman sighed in exasperation. ‘Both. They are Awakening. The wards struggle to contain it. Thoran and Adara’s children came searching. Kylar’s daughter too and, worse still, she was followed. I have healed the crack they found, but others will form and the Darklings will return.’
‘You should never have agreed to harbour them. They would be better off with their own kind.’
She sighed once more, this time in defeat. ‘Probably. But they are too important to risk. Rionna would not have shown them to me otherwise. Even their people could not guarantee their safety for long. Your brother plays a dangerous game with his Court. Sooner or later, they will uncover his lies, and the war will resume. Better I keep them where I can protect them myself.’
‘Only you can’t,’ he noted, the ghost of a sneer touching his lips. ‘Your power is fading, Mother. Why else would you be here begging my aid?’
The woman rounded on her son, teeth bared. ‘I ask nothing of you save that you clean up your own mess, boy. You swore to help me end his line, not continue it. Do not make me regret sparing her. I can still change my mind.’
The man turned then, rage and violence churning in his black gaze. ‘As can I. Threaten her again. See what happens.’
‘She has to go, Layol,’ she hissed. ‘The boy too.’
‘He is not safe in the city,’ he objected. ‘Not until he is fully into his power. Not while Emalia rules.’
His mother looked heavenward. ‘So you said, when you brought her to me all those years ago. But the world out there is no safer for either of them, and right now, his fiercest protector cannot summon enough magic to light a candle. I cannot continue with this task you have set me, Layol. Either take her back to the city or find some other way to protect her.’
Her son was silent for a long time, but eventually, he nodded.
‘Alright,’ he breathed. ‘I will find another way. But as the saying goes, be careful what you wish for, Mother.’
Then he was gone, vanishing through a rip in the world. The woman cursed in frustration, before she too melted into darkness, leaving only the silent stars as witness.
Chapter Five
To say Lucan was feeling rebellious was an understatement. He wasn’t sure where the feelings came from, but bitterness and resentment had his stomach churning. He didn’t need to look at Suriya to know she felt the same. Why was that? How was it he always knew what she was thinking? What she was feeling? When he did glance sidelong at his sister, her golden eyes were glowing, her hair near crackling with the tension radiating off her.
Their mother was oblivious to their temper as she tucked into her breakfast. Lucan looked at the plate in front of him, heaped high with bacon, sausage, eggs and toast, and his stomach heaved. He dropped his knife and fork back on the table and pushed the plate away.
‘Lucan? Is something the matter?’
‘I’m not hungry,’ he said.
His mother eyed him coolly while she finished a mouthful of fresh fruit. Then, coming to some decision, she laid her cutlery down with lethal precision and placed her elbows on the table, her hands steepled over the bowl.
She surveyed both Lucan and Suriya over the top of her elegant fingers for a moment before she spoke. ‘Tell me, does this sudden lack of appetite have anything to do with some perceived mistreatment of a certain red-headed servant who needs to learn to keep her mouth shut?’
Lucan repressed a shiver at that eerie, mind-reading ability his mother had. After Renila had left, Suriya had told him everything. But their mother couldn’t know that. Unease joined the storm heaving in his guts. A glance at Suriya, knuckles white around her spoon, had him straightening in his chair.
‘What did you say to upset her?’
The Lady arched a sardonic brow, pinning him with the full force of her terrifying gaze. ‘Why do you assume that I am the one in the wrong?’
Lucan glowered at her but said nothing, too scared to push the matter any further. Beside him, Suriya hissed through her teeth, prompting their mother to turn those remarkable eyes on her instead.
‘Call it instinct,’ his sister murmured.
The Lady scowled, and she leaned back in her chair. ‘If you think I’m going to discuss such matters with a pair of children, you will be disappointed,’ she told them. ‘But if you wish me to treat you like adults, then perhaps it is time I give further thought to your arrangements in this house. If you can stomach these changes like grown-ups then, perhaps, I will consider increasing your i
nvolvement in the castle’s running – and involving you in such future disputes.’
‘What do you want us to do?’ Suriya asked, cutting off the terse response that rose to Lucan’s lips.
Their mother considered them with indifference, eyes flicking between the two, contemplating. ‘In the first instance, I think it’s about time that Lucan learned how to handle a sword. I would like you to train with Captain Farran every day.’
‘What?’ Lucan choked. He’d only been begging his mother to let him learn how to fight since he was old enough to talk. She’d always refused, without ever giving a reason. Beside him, Suriya stilled. He risked a glance sideways and noted the glower on her face. Turning back to his mother, he asked, ‘Why?’
The Lady shrugged. ‘You’re old enough. I think it’s appropriate. But it’s more than swordsmanship, Lucan. Captain Farran is a good man – organised, capable and a fine leader. I think you can learn a lot from him.’
‘And what about me?’ Suriya asked.
Her mother’s reply was trivial, and even more dangerous for it. ‘I would like for you and I to spend more time together.’
‘Doing what?’
Annoyance flickered across the Lady’s face. ‘It’s time you learned what is involved in running this estate,’ she said, her tone a little sharper than it had been before. She turned back to regard Lucan. ‘Two small caveats. Firstly, if you wish to be treated like adults, then you shall each have your own rooms. It is not acceptable for a man and woman to share a bedroom unless they’re married, even if you are brother and sister. Secondly, if you no longer wish to be considered children then you have no need of a nanny, so I can assign Renila to other duties within the castle. It is quite a wasted resource having her look after the two of you all the time.’
Lucan stared at his mother, mouth hanging open in shock. Suriya kicked him under the table. He shook himself and looked to her for help. Shy, she might be, but Suriya was far smarter than him. Not that he’d ever admit it. He could almost hear her mind whirring like a spinning top as she thought through their options.