by Jen McIntosh
‘They both are,’ the Lady whispered.
Lord Alvar sighed. ‘No wonder you asked for help. With their bloodlines, at this age – it’s a miracle they haven’t levelled the castle by now. Why aren’t you teaching them to control it?’
‘It wasn’t your help I asked for. And you know the longer they last without it, the safer they’ll be.’
‘They don’t know.’ It wasn’t a question.
‘Of course not.’
‘You realise they’re entwined?’
She exhaled sharply in frustration. ‘How stupid do you think I am?’
‘Stupid enough to meddle with their heads when they’re already in such a mess.’
‘I did what I had to.’
It was his turn to sigh. ‘Fix it. Or I will.’
‘Fine.’
There was a pause. ‘What about Renila?’
‘I told you. She has no memory of you.’
‘Your doing?’
‘Nature’s doing … but at her request.’
‘And the boy? Erion?’
The Lady was quiet for a long moment, and Suriya could sense the anger radiating off her mother at the mention of the boy’s name. Then the Lady sighed, and there was the whisper of her dress as she moved again. Suriya opened one eye a crack, peering through her lashes. Her mother was standing by the window, gazing up at the moon.
‘She refused to tell me who the father was, but I can guess. He’s strong, Alvar. Keeping his power contained is killing him.’
‘Damn it, Gaelan—’ Lord Alvar started.
But she interrupted him. ‘Keep your voice down. It’s not my fault.’
‘It’s entirely your fault,’ he snarled.
‘You supported it at the time,’ she breathed. ‘You can’t just change your mind a century later because of consequences we couldn’t have foreseen.’
Lord Alvar was quiet for a long time, but his breathing was forced as he tried to calm himself. ‘Fine,’ he conceded. There was a pause before he spoke again. ‘What happened, Gaelan? Why is she here?’
‘That,’ she snapped, ‘is between you and her. I’m not getting in the middle of it.’
‘You’re already in the middle of it,’ he growled. ‘You’re up to your damn eyeballs in it. When Layol told me she’d left, that she never wanted to see me again, he promised she was safe, cared for – but I should have known you were involved from the beginning. This has got your scheming mitts all over it. Why else would she be so meek?’
‘I know even less than you do Alvar. He brought her here, asked me to hide her, but wouldn’t tell me why. But she would not have stayed hidden had she remained the way she was – mortal women are never so brash.’
Lord Alvar wasn’t done. ‘Bullshit. You know that boy’s mind inside out and backwards, and you’ve certainly never cared what anyone thinks. Least of all mortals. This is just you trying to get some petty revenge because I chose her over you. Now where’s her bloody stone?’
‘Safe. She didn’t want it.’
‘Raiden help me, Gaelan … I will rip this place apart.’
‘She didn’t want to remember, Alvar. Respect her wishes.’
‘Just as you respected her wishes when you banished her from this castle?’ he asked.
‘She told you.’ It was a statement, not a question.
‘She didn’t have to. The first thing the Captain did after showing me to my rooms was beg me to overturn your decision. He’s got quite the soft spot for her.’
‘A shame he’s married. But I suppose that’s her type,’ the Lady muttered, so quietly that Suriya almost didn’t catch it.
Lord Alvar ignored the jibe. ‘She didn’t come here for your company, Gaelan, and Layol knows better than to have trusted you with her safety without proper assurances. You gave your word to protect her. Why go back on it now?’
‘Will you keep it down?’ she hissed. ‘Her presence puts Suriya and Lucan in danger. It’s too much power in one place and I will not risk them for the sake of her or that wretched boy.’
‘Why do you even care?’ Lord Alvar shouted. ‘These aren’t your people, and they’re not your children!’
Suriya couldn’t help but tense at the words.
Her mother – the Lady – sighed in frustration.
‘Now you’ve done it,’ she muttered. She perched on the edge of Suriya’s bed and laid a gentle hand on her forehead. Suriya stirred and pretended to wake up.
‘Hmm?’ she slurred, stretching her arms.
‘I just came to check on you,’ the Lady murmured. ‘How are you?’
Suriya blinked at her, trying with all her might to keep her disgust and mistrust from her face. ‘Fine. Can I go back to sleep now?’
‘Of course,’ the Lady said with a sad smile. And with that, she glided from the room, leaving Lord Alvar to his vigil.
But Suriya did not go back to sleep. She was wide awake and lay glaring at the ceiling.
She smelled the Darklings long before she saw them. The stench of stolen life and twisted magic. It burned her nose, made her teeth itch, set her tattooed hands twitching for her weapons as the bloodlust rose. Even a deep, steadying breath did nothing to quiet the roaring in her ears. Only blood would soothe her now she’d caught their scent. Like a hound after a hare.
Such was the burden of the Graced. Created for the sole purpose of destroying Darklings, the urge to kill was strong in even the weakest of her people. For one as strong as she, it was almost irresistible. It was her birthright. Her sacred duty. Her destiny.
And by the Gods, she enjoyed it.
She crept closer, black eyes searching for her prey. Mouth watering in anticipation. But how to go about it? Normally she would take her time, wring every ounce of exquisite agony from her quarry before finally ending them. Leave their mangled corpses in warning for others. For their bastard King. A bloody, defiant reminder that she still walked the earth – despite his best efforts. But here? Now? Too great a risk that he or his Court might come looking, catch the scent of the Awakening, and whatever else sheltered behind wards not even she could breach.
No. Better to kill them quickly and destroy all trace. Disappointment was a weight in her gut, but she loosed her daggers from their sheathes in readiness.
Then she saw them.
She nearly bit her tongue to stop the vicious oath that rose to her lips. The Hunt was enormous. A hundred strong, at least. All Graced. The Huntress was easy to pick out – they moved around her like ants around their queen. She was Elf-born, like most of her Hunt. The rest were almost all Dragons, with the exception of the male Unicorn hovering at the Huntress’s elbow. A glance at the star-mark on his brow had the black-eyed woman checking her mental defences. Even cursed, her power made her presence difficult to hide.
Then a figure stepped from the darkness, appearing as if through a rip in the world. Tall and slender, with wine-red hair and eerie, pale eyes.
Shade.
The woman swallowed another curse as she flinched back. What the fuck was he doing here? A silent snarl of frustration twisted her face. Were the Gods taunting her, to put another target before her like this?
‘Sire.’ The Huntress greeted her master, bowing low.
He ignored her, studying his surroundings. ‘Report.’
‘Lord Alexan’s information appears accurate. We found the remains of the mortal Hunt not far from here. It would appear the heirs of Ciaron were extremely thorough in their work.’
The Shade grunted. ‘Not surprising. Though I doubt either Kah Faolin or Sil Dorrien enjoy their butchery half as much as their bastard sister.’
The black-eyed woman smirked. He was not wrong. Then she frowned. If Faolin and Dorrien had been here, they must have sensed the Awakening. What had happened to them that they’d left it undefended?
‘We did find one other body, much closer to the wards. Burned to a husk – a Casting. A strong one.’
He shrugged. ‘Ciaron’s heirs have Elf-blood in their lineag
e.’
‘Not this much. I haven’t felt power like this since before the Fall.’
The Prince pulled a face. The black-eyed woman didn’t blame him. She’d sensed the power contained within the girl-child. Enormous, untapped potential. Not strong enough to rival her own, but then whose was?
The Huntress continued. ‘I suppose it could have been the Princess?’
He shook his head. ‘Keriath’s Shade, whether she admits it or not. Her Castings would smell different. More like a Wielding. Théon’s certainly do.’
The black-eyed woman stilled. There was something in his voice … no. Surely not?
‘Lord Alexan found her then?’
The Shade nodded. ‘Ciaron’s heirs led him right to her. I got him through the wards. The rest is up to him.’
‘And Keriath?’
The Shade grimaced. ‘Seren’s spies confirmed it this morning. The Queens have her now. I’ll deal with getting her back once we’re finished here.’
The Huntress swore softly. Then their conversation moved on, discussing the wards before them – what they might contain, how they might be breached.
But the black-eyed woman wasn’t listening.
Théon. Keriath. Her sisters in all but blood. At the mercy of Darklings.
She was moving before the thought had even fully formed. The children would have to fend for themselves. She had been no older than they were when the Darklings had descended on her home. Even younger when the Nightwalkers had come for her in the forest. Left her nailed to that altar. She’d survived it all. They could do the same.
Climbing high into the mountains, she Changed. Skin yielded to scales, fingernails gave way to talons, and mighty wings bloomed from her shoulders. Great, yellow eyes looked to the lightening horizon. She would have to be fast. There was perhaps an hour, maybe two, before sunlight would drive her from the skies.
Time to race the dawn.
Without so much as a backwards glance to the children she was abandoning, the ferocious onyx dragon launched herself heavenward.
Chapter Seventeen
There was a storm coming. Renila could smell it in the air. It was heavy, crackling with static and tension that set her blood thrumming in her veins. She’d always loved thunderstorms. There was something about their wild, terrifying beauty that made her feel alive in a way that nothing else could. As if the hard edge of fear honed her appreciation for life like a whetstone sharpened a knife.
It was at least a day away – perhaps more – but already, it was like the storm were not building in the heavens, but in her soul. She slept poorly and woke several hours before the dawn. Unable to remain in bed any longer, she rose and slipped from the room.
The kitchens were empty, but she ghosted through them in silence, unable to shake the anticipation thrumming through her. Her heart was thundering in her chest as she hurried up the stairs to the tower. The oncoming storm made her feverish and reckless; she didn’t care.
Something had changed within her when Lord Alvar arrived – weeks ago, now. While some things had returned to the way they were, others could not be undone. There was a crack in the dam that held back her emotions, and they were seeping through at an increasing rate.
It was still dark outside when she slipped through the door and crept up behind Farran. She could barely see him, but the moon gave just enough light to make out his silhouette against the night. His hair ruffled in the cold breeze as he stared out across the Ravenswood, unflinching as ever in his vigil.
She inched closer on soundless feet, close enough to smell the lavender soap beneath the stink of his armour. Slipping her arms around his waist, she pressed a kiss to his neck and chuckled when he flinched at her touch.
‘Oh dear, Captain,’ she laughed. ‘Did I catch you sleeping?’
Turning, he pressed her to the parapet with the full weight of his body. ‘Hardly. I’m trained to react to threats, not impudent nursemaids with no sense of decorum.’
‘Impudent?’ She gasped in mock outrage, squirming beneath him even as part of her cringed to be so belittled.
He held still, pinning her in place and looking down at her with a wry smirk on his face. ‘Yes, impudent. Bold and brazen too.’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ she said, holding his gaze and placing her hands on his chest, her fingers exploring upwards.
He remained motionless as her fingers dipped below the collar of his shirt, and she raked a fingernail across his skin. But there was a tightness in his voice that told her just what effect she was having on him. ‘No,’ he said. ‘A good girl like you would never dream of seducing a married man.’
‘Is that what I’m doing?’ she asked, her hands curling around the back of his neck.
‘That’s exactly what you’re doing,’ he retorted. ‘Temptress.’
‘Don’t play the innocent,’ she whispered, knotting her fingers in his hair as she dragged his head down; ‘I am not to blame for your lack of control.’
Their lips touched lightly, tentatively, teasingly, and Farran groaned low in his throat. He threw caution aside, sweeping her into his arms and crushing her to him. Her lips parted as she let out a low moan, and he took his opportunity. His tongue swept in, exploring her mouth, and he ran his hands over her body in slow, indolent caresses.
She pressed herself against him and revelled in his touch as he stroked her spine, her ribs, her hips. He trembled with anticipation as her breasts pillowed against his chest. His fingers slipped between their bodies, and his thumb brushed over the peak as he cupped her in his hand. She gasped at the tiny shivers of pleasure that radiated from his touch and gripped him tighter.
Without warning, the door flew open as a clap of thunder shook the castle.
‘Sorry to interrupt,’ snapped a familiar voice, laced with sarcasm and throbbing with barely restrained rage. Farran tensed, pulling her to his chest with one arm while his other hand went to his sword. Renila peered over Farran’s shoulder to see Lord Alvar standing in the doorway, looking like death.
At Renila’s reassuring touch, Farran released her and took half a step back, but he kept her behind him as he turned to face his Lord. She straightened her nightgown and smoothed her hair as best she could. She peered around Farran’s shoulders, eyeing Lord Alvar in apprehension. He was furious beyond belief. She hadn’t seen him this angry since the day he’d arrived at the castle. Renila had to resist the urge to cower when those purple-grey eyes looked her way. That gaze lingering on every place Farran had touched her, as if the Captain had left fingerprints on her skin that Lord Alvar could see. Those eyes turned to Farran.
‘I thought you had a wife,’ he snarled.
Farran stiffened at the accusation but didn’t flinch. ‘I thought you did too,’ he replied. Renila glanced up at him. She’d never heard Farran talk back to his superiors like that. It frightened her as much as the barely restrained wrath roiling within Lord Alvar.
‘I’m not the one who’s just been caught feeling up another woman,’ Alvar noted. Renila saw Farran swallow the angry retort that jumped to his lips.
‘It was my fault,’ she said, stepping around Farran to face Lord Alvar herself. ‘I seduced him.’ He stilled, surveying Farran with bloodthirsty hunger in his eyes.
‘You don’t deserve her, Captain,’ breathed Lord Alvar.
But Farran wouldn’t let it go. ‘And you do?’ he said, tensing as he levelled the accusation. Lord Alvar snarled, but Farran held his ground. Renila’s breath caught in her throat as the two men stared each other down. She had no doubts about who would win if it came to a fight. Farran might be a seasoned warrior with a sword at his side, but instinct said that, even unarmed, Lord Alvar was lethal.
‘Get out of my sight,’ Lord Alvar spat. ‘I will take over your watch, since the task is clearly beyond you. And never let me catch you distracted on duty again.’ Farran bowed and made to escort Renila down the stairs, but as they passed, Alvar’s hand shot out and gripped her arm. �
��Not you,’ he growled.
Farran twitched towards his sword, as if he might cut Lord Alvar’s hand off to free her. But she shook her head.
‘It’s fine,’ she told him. She didn’t want anyone getting hurt over her. Farran’s parting glance to Lord Alvar was one of warning, but he bowed again and left. As the door closed behind him, Renila wrenched her arm free, surprising herself with her strength. ‘How can I serve you, my Lord?’
Lord Alvar flinched from the anger in her voice, but he scowled at her. ‘I told you not to call me that.’
‘You can’t have it both ways.’ Renila bristled, anger loosening her tongue. ‘You want me to dispense with titles and subservience and yet have no problem throwing your authority around and using it to bully me and the people I care about. So which is it? Are you my Lord, or my friend?’
He was quiet for a moment while her words sank in, but he bowed his head. ‘Your friend,’ he sighed. ‘Always your friend, Renila. I’m sorry. I lost my temper … It’s difficult for me … to see you like this. To see you with him.’
Renila blinked, stunned by the implication of his words.
‘The Lady … Gaelan—’
Lord Alvar spoke over her. ‘Can go fuck herself.’ He stepped closer. ‘All I want is you.’ His fingers trembled as he raised them to her face, stroked her cheek with his feather-light touch. Something buried deep within her cracked at the contact, so profoundly she wondered if it could have been heard a mile away. But there was not so much as a hint of a reaction from Lord Alvar, so perhaps it was only the sound of her soul cleaving in two.
She leaned into his touch and heard his breath hitch. He cupped her cheek in his hand, wiping away a tear with his thumb. Renila hadn’t even realised she was crying. There was something so gentle, so tender in his thunderstorm eyes as he gazed down at her, a tentative smile tugging at his lips. It was instinct to return it.