by Jen McIntosh
He finished his food and rose to leave. ‘There. All done.’
‘Alexan, wait.’ She held out the wineskin. ‘Come have a drink with me?’
Gods knew, he was tempted. But he didn’t trust himself. ‘I’m fine, thanks. There’s a keg of something stronger in the hold.’
Where he was sleeping, along with the other sailors. Not trusted to share the cabin with her, Illyandi and the old man. Exiled to a cold and lonely hammock, surrounded by a half-dozen, stinking, snoring sailors. Just as well, given that Illyandi was yet to find her sea legs – or so she claimed. Despite regular cleaning, the cabin still reeked of vomit. He wasn’t sure which stench was worse.
Théon’s hand flew out and grabbed his arm. ‘Something’s wrong. What is it?’ He suppressed a groan as fire spread across his arm from where their skin met. Too close. That cup of blood might have been enough to keep him alive, but it’d done little to satisfy him. That evergreen gaze was searching, but he held it, trying to hide as much as he could. No such luck. ‘You’re still thirsty.’
He extricated himself from her grip. ‘I’m fine.’
‘You’re not fine,’ she insisted. ‘If you needed more blood, why didn’t you say something?’
He heaved a sigh of exasperation. ‘I don’t need more.’
‘But you want more?’ she asked, a soft smile playing on her lips. He made to turn away, but a delicate hand on his arm once more forced him back to look at her, and he felt his resolve crumble.
‘If you were dying of starvation, and someone were to give you a piece of bread, you might survive for an extra day,’ he explained. All too aware of the tension in his voice. ‘But you would still be starving.’
Théon’s gaze softened as comprehension dawned. ‘How much more do you need?’
‘No.’ He stepped back. Into the cabin. His first mistake.
She followed him. Herded him further inside. Closed the door behind her. His second mistake. ‘Why? You’re starving, and I can help you.’
‘You don’t know what you’re talking about,’ he warned, his back hitting the wall behind him. His third. ‘It’s more than just the blood, Théon.’
‘I don’t care.’
‘I could kill you.’
‘You won’t,’ she promised. Then the scent of blood filled the room. She held up her wrist in offering. ‘Drink.’
Alexan hardly dared to breathe. ‘I can’t.’
With a sigh, she took Alexan’s hand in her own and placed her bloody wrist in his grip. The mark on his palm burned at the contact. That power stirred in response to her touch. He shoved it back down. Then she pressed her other hand to her blood and raised it to his lips.
‘Drink,’ she said again. His head swam. The warmth of her skin beneath his fingers. His entire body trembled in response. He closed his eyes, breathing that exquisite scent deep. Delicate fingers touched his lips, his tongue, the blood coating them bittersweet with the magic of life sparking within it.
His mind emptied. He raised her wrist to his mouth, fastening his lips around the open wound and pulled her close. Stars exploded behind his eyelids as he gulped down two quick mouthfuls, her power flooding through him.
She gasped and quivered against him, and desire boiled in his veins. He released her wrist and spun her around, pressing her against the wall and turning her head to expose her neck. He held her arms above her head with one hand, taking her throat in the other with as much tenderness as he could muster.
Without hesitating, he lowered his mouth to her neck and bit into her soft skin. Blood filled his mouth, all his senses sharpening as her life-force poured into him, crackling with power over his tongue. Every inch of her hummed against him. Her heart thundering in her chest. The rapid rise and fall of her breathing. That silky skin beneath his fingers and his lips. Gods, what he wanted to do to her.
‘I feel … strange,’ she gasped. He grinned against her throat at the quiver of exhilaration in her voice. He’d tried to warn her. To be fed upon like this created an intimacy that most never expected.
A scream of fury shattered the moment, and Alexan found himself blasted backwards. He slammed into the wall. So hard that the room blurred and went dark. When he could focus again, Illyandi stood between him and Théon, her face that of a stone-hearted killer. The hint of a Casting, bursting to get free, swirled and snapped around her like grass swaying in the wind. Théon tried to surge to her feet, but the Casting pulsed, shoving her back down.
Alexan bared his teeth in a silent snarl, challenging the one thing that stood between him and his prey. Between him and his Queen. Under different circumstances, he might have rejoiced at the terrible, vicious noise that ripped out of the delicate Princess in response. But now was not the time to revel in the discovery that Illyandi could, in fact, be roused to anger and violence. Not surprising though, if his suspicions regarding her current condition were correct. There was true terror in Théon’s eyes as she watched her sister struggle with her emotions.
‘Illyandi,’ she begged. The Casting pulsed again, fainter this time, warning Théon to be silent.
‘I will kill you,’ she growled at Alexan, her voice shaking as the magic coursed through her. Alexan got to his feet, not daring to break eye contact with her. But he had learned tact and diplomacy at Kieyin’s side, and it was the deadly Shade Prince who spoke next.
‘I dare you,’ he hissed, his eyes dancing. Théon’s eyes widened – with anger or fear, he wasn’t sure – but Illyandi remained frozen where she was. Alexan let his face split into the slow, wicked smile he reserved for the prey he wanted to send running. Illyandi didn’t move. He laughed, a low dark chuckle as he watched her hesitate. ‘You don’t have it in you, Princess,’ he taunted. The Casting surged with her temper, and he found himself thrown back and pinned to the wall. He gasped for breath as she tightened an invisible noose around his throat, hissing her hatred for him. But just as quickly as it had flared, her fury ebbed, and she stepped back, releasing him. He slumped to the floor coughing as he tried to catch his breath. By the Gods, she was strong. Not strong enough to have killed him, not with the power he had at his command, but stronger than he’d realised.
Théon surged to her feet as her sister’s enormous power retreated beneath her skin, and placed herself between Illyandi and the Darkling she’d threatened to kill. Silvermane appeared in the doorway, but Théon stopped him dead in his tracks with a look. Her hands were thrown up as she edged closer to Illyandi.
‘It’s alright,’ she was saying. ‘I’m alright; he didn’t hurt me. Illyandi, look, I’m alright.’ She spoke softly, like trying to soothe a startled animal before it bolted. Alexan forced himself to stay still, while inwardly he cursed himself. What had he been thinking trying to provoke her like that?
Silvermane pushed his way between the two sisters. He glanced at the healing wound on Théon’s throat before turning his attention on Illyandi.
‘I’m fine,’ she snapped, before he opened his mouth, her hungry gaze still fixed on Alexan. Silvermane jerked the Princess’s head to face him, forcing her to meet his eyes. The tiny changes in expression on her face spoke of the silent conversation going on between the two and, for once, Alexan was glad he couldn’t hear what was said. Illyandi nodded, and Silvermane stepped back. The old man took hold of Théon’s wrist and held her back as Illyandi approached Alexan.
‘Let me go,’ Théon protested, struggling. Part of Alexan roared at the violation. At the old man Enchanting her into submission. He wasn’t strong enough to hold her by sheer force. Alexan snarled but stood his ground as Illyandi approached. ‘Illyandi, leave him alone! It wasn’t his fault. I offered my blood freely,’ she said, heaving against Silvermane’s restraints, both physical and magical.
‘More fool you,’ said Illyandi, in a voice as unyielding as the stone. She stood toe to toe with Alexan and did not flinch when she met his blood-red eyes. ‘I should kill you.’
‘Almost certainly,’ he agreed. Then he spoke the words
he knew would save him. ‘But you both owe me a life-debt – your sister owes me two, in fact – so you won’t. Besides, you live by Benella’s code. So why don’t you stop posturing, and just let it go, Princess?’
Illyandi hissed but stepped back. ‘Get out,’ she spat. ‘If I see you in here again, I swear, by the Gods, I’ll kill you.’
Alexan smirked and gave her a mocking bow before he turned to leave. He paused just long enough to glance back at Théon and wink, and the sly smile she gave him in return made his heart thunder in his chest.
It was a crack. Now all he had to do was widen it.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Keriath didn’t know how much time had passed before the sound of a key turning in the lock echoed through the chamber, and the bridge creaked down. She sat up as best she could, striving to remain alert through the distractions of her pain and the overwhelming burden of the deaths echoing from the rocks she now carried. Having grown accustomed to the darkness, she squinted against the light spilling in from the hallway beyond. Silhouetted in the doorway was Dell, a water skin in his hand, and a murderous look on his face.
‘What do you want?’ she snapped, in no mood for any games.
His scowl deepened. ‘Nice to see you too,’ he grumbled, stalking across the bridge and dropping to a crouch beside her. He threw the water skin into her lap. ‘Drink this.’ Wincing at the pain, she pulled out the stopper and sniffed at it. Water. Just water. She drank gratefully, choking at the movement.
‘What? No ruan?’ she asked, gasping from the effort.
‘No point,’ he grunted. ‘This place’ll block your power better than any drug. The magic here is something else … seeps into your soul … changes you. I reckon it won’t be long until your heart is as black as mine.’ She didn’t respond – didn’t know what to say to that. His bloody gaze narrowed, considering her. ‘Looks like I’m just as much a prisoner here as you are.’
‘Clearly,’ she muttered, gesturing to her surroundings with a pointed rattle of her chains.
Dell chuckled. ‘Glad to see we haven’t broken you. Though I don’t like your chances of staying that way.’
‘Thanks,’ she said, her voice laced with sarcasm. ‘What is it you wanted again?’
‘Would it surprise you to know that I just wanted to speak to you?’ She gave him a look that said it would. ‘Sad but true. I can’t seem to get you out of my head.’
She grinned. ‘Careful. That’s how it starts – the madness.’ Greater minds than Dell’s had been lost to Unicorn beauty.
‘Think it’s more than just your pretty face,’ he admitted, leaning back. ‘I’ve met your kind before – none of them ever had this power over me. You spared me from the waterhorses. And not just with what you told me either. The thought of you was what kept me sane. Kept me alive. But more than that – ever since I first tasted you, I’ve been different. Felt different. Thinking things about my maker that I shouldn’t be able to think. Drosta knew it too, that’s why he didn’t fight when the Queens demanded I stay behind. It’s got me wondering if there isn’t more to you than you’re letting on. That Nightwalker bitch seemed awfully interested in your heritage, my lady. Why is that? Who are you?’
Victory turned to ash in her mouth. ‘She thought I was someone else. Someone important. Too bad I’m not even a full-blooded Unicorn, just a bastard half-breed.’ He offered her a look that said he didn’t believe her, but said nothing. ‘What about you? Why are the Queens keeping you prisoner?’
‘Trying to keep Drosta under control. They made it clear that if he doesn’t toe the line, they’ll kill me.’
Keriath arched a sceptical brow. ‘And they think that’ll work?’ Drosta hadn’t struck her as the caring type.
‘It’s about the only thing that might,’ he muttered with a scowl. ‘Drosta and I were children together – a pair of ragged orphans, fighting for survival in the Nighthills. We had no one but each other. I lost count of how many times one of us would save the other’s life. Brothers, in every way but blood. I don’t think he’s capable of love, but our friendship was the closest he’s ever come to it. Then one day he just disappeared, left me to fend for myself … it was the kindest thing he ever did for me. I got my life together, got a job, found a wife … She was pregnant with our second child when he came back. He never gave me the choice. He pinned me down and fed me his blood. Once it was done, he ordered me to kill my little boy, then made me watch as he raped and murdered my wife.
‘Drosta had always been a sick bastard, but the magic unleashed a monster. I’m the only thing he’s ever cared about. He cared enough to come back for me, destroy anyone else who had a claim to me and punish me for daring to consider a life without him in it. I’ve hated him for decades, but he made me bury those feelings down so deep they were nothing but a distant memory. Until you. Your blood set me free. I might be stuck here for the rest of my miserable life, but at least now my thoughts are my own. I wanted to thank you for that.’
‘You’re welcome,’ she heard herself whisper. She meant it too, was glad to have freed him from such a fate. Nobody deserved that. Still, she didn’t let herself linger on how … for there was more to denying the Shade King than just principle. The cost would be her freedom. Her soul. The bond between a Shade and their sire was not as strong as the Claiming, but it was insidious enough that she would rather die than ever endure its touch.
Shade blood in her veins would explain the change in Dell, where nothing else could – but belief was its own kind of magic, the only power she had left to defy him. If she were to doubt, even for a moment, she would be lost forever. So she shoved the thoughts aside and focussed instead on the consequences of his rather interesting revelation.
Dell seemed to notice the cold cunning that entered her gaze and held up a hand to cut her off. ‘No. I’m not helping you escape.’
‘Why not? You said it yourself – you’re a prisoner here, just like me. Don’t you want to get out?’
He shook his head, but she could see the interest sparking in his eyes. ‘You couldn’t escape Drosta’s clutches – and that was before you were wounded. The Queens’ guard alone is three times the size of Drosta’s Hunt … before you and your friends slaughtered most of it. Not to mention the dozens of Hunts who serve here. You wouldn’t even make it out of the Pits.’
‘I could if you helped me,’ she insisted. ‘You said they wouldn’t drug me—’
He cut her off. ‘Because there’s no point. The magic of the mountain is enough to keep you contained all by itself.’
‘Down here maybe. But if you get me out of this cell, it’ll be a different story.’
‘You’re also wounded,’ he pointed out.
‘I’ll heal.’ He folded his arms over his chest and shook his head in frustration, but didn’t argue, didn’t seem to want to waste his breath. She had to try something else. ‘Come on. You know how potent my blood is. You’ve felt the effects already. It gave you the strength to break free.’
She saw interest spark in his eyes. ‘Go on.’
‘The Queens will never let you go, and Drosta knows it. He betrayed you – he’s leaving you to rot in this city. Unless you help me. I’m not strong enough to escape by myself. But you know this place, and my blood could make you the most powerful Darkling in this city … Together, we might just make it.’
He pursed his lips. ‘I’ll think about it.’
Then he was gone, and she was alone.
Submerged in total darkness, it had not taken long for Keriath to lose track of the days. She was weaker than she’d ever been. The poison was still advancing, and she could feel the life ebb from her with each passing breath. She welcomed the thought. Death would be a gentle reprieve – perhaps she’d be reunited with all those who had been stolen from her.
Dell came to her sometimes, bringing enough food and water to keep her alive. He still hadn’t agreed to help her escape, but he tended her wounds as best he could, although he was no healer. She
told him as much – at length – during a painful changing of her dressings. He’d been right though, there was little need to drug her with ruan. The mountain sapped so much of her strength that her magic was useless.
She could sense most of his thoughts and almost all of his emotions. His mind was simple and uncluttered by imagination, which made things easier. But the Enchanting remained beyond her. Likewise, the Casting required strength and focus that she no longer possessed.
At least he hadn’t tried to feed from her again; she was far too weak. The Queens would not be happy if their prisoner died before they’d had their fill. None of them had been to see her since she had arrived in this forsaken place. She thanked the Gods for small mercies.
She wasn’t sure she could survive an encounter with one of those monsters in her current state, though it was unlikely they’d bother for the pitiful amount of life in her veins, even if it was Graced.
More concerning was Ylain’s realisation that Keriath was more important than just a source of life-magic. That she might be a mine of information about the surviving lines the Shade King and his allies so feared. If Ylain tried to torture the knowledge out of her, in her present state, she wasn’t sure she could hold out.
‘Will you stop trying to die on me?’ Dell hissed, rousing her from oblivion once more. He’d just finished changing the dressings on her wound – again – and was lifting a skin of water to her cracked lips. She coughed and tried to drink. It was so very difficult.
‘Will you stop trying to stop me?’ she gasped. ‘I think death would be better than having to look at your ugly mug.’
He grinned at that, but she could see the worry in his eyes. She didn’t need magic to feel it rolling off him in waves. Some people’s emotions were just that strong. He’d grown to care for her. Or at least for her survival. And strangely, she felt a similar investment in his well-being growing in reciprocation. That was a disturbing thought. She shuddered. Mistaking it for cold, Dell scowled.