by Jen McIntosh
His breath hitched as he remembered the sensation of her mouth on him. Gods above, he thought, where had she learned that? He’d been far from gentle, but she’d matched him every step of the way. His back was still stinging from her nails raking him from shoulder to hip. And her wrists were circled with bruises from where he’d pinned her arms above her head while he’d ravished her.
In an effort to distract himself from thoughts of tomorrow, he stroked a hand along the smooth curve of her side, trailing up from her hip to her breast. She stirred beneath his fingers, stretching as he coaxed her out of sleep. He palmed her breast in his hand, and she gasped, arching into his touch. He grazed his thumb across that peaked point, causing her to moan.
‘You’d better be prepared to finish what you’ve started,’ she warned him, not even bothering to open her eyes.
‘And if I’m not?’ he taunted, pinching hard. She hissed, and her eyes flew open, dark with desire.
‘I’ll make sure you regret it,’ she growled. He chuckled again, moving his hand to her other breast, toying with her. She watched his hand, eyes snagging on the mark on his palm.
‘What is it?’
His hand stilled. ‘A birthmark.’
‘Looks more like a brand.’ She took his hand in hers, drawing it closer so she might inspect it. ‘Like a snake, devouring its own tail.’
He loosed a slow breath. That was exactly what it looked like.
‘I don’t know what it is,’ he admitted. ‘I’ve had it as long as I can remember.’
She smiled then and pressed her lips to it. ‘It’s part of you, and that is all I need to know.’
Then she pulled him close to her once more. He still couldn’t be gentle with her – his desire was too strong, too fierce for that. She stirred something primal and instinctive inside him that wouldn’t be tamed. But he worshipped her with his loving, let his body tell her what his words failed to say. He wasn’t sure if she understood. Part of him thought she did. Wondered if she felt the same way. Prayed to the Gods she didn’t. It was her only chance at freedom.
They dressed quickly, Théon repairing the worst of the damage they’d done to each other’s clothes with a hurried Casting. They were both reluctant to leave, hesitant to venture out into the world where anyone might be waiting. But dawn was a pale threat on the horizon. The Dragons would resume their search at first light … if they had stopped it at all. Each moment they waited brought death one step closer.
‘So what now?’ he asked.
‘I have no idea.’ Her voice was heavy, though there was no regret in her eyes.
‘They’ll kill us if they find us.’
‘I know.’
‘Is there any other way off the islands?’
She shook her head. ‘They’ll be watching every port, if we even make it that far. There’ll be scouts scouring every inch of coast and moor.’
‘A glamour?’
‘Too many eyes. They work on mortals well enough, but Unicorns see right through them.’
He looked at her in surprise. ‘There are other Unicorns here?’
‘A few,’ she admitted with a grim smile. ‘The Fall wasn’t quite as thorough as legend would have you believe.’
She didn’t know the half of it.
‘So what are our options?’ he asked, steering the conversation away. ‘Lay low until they give up?’
‘I can’t see that happening. No, we need to get out of here. I’m just not sure how.’
He hesitated, reluctant to push her this soon. When what was between them was so new; so fragile. But he was running out of options. ‘I have an idea. But you won’t like it.’
He held out the amulet. Didn’t need to tell her what it was, not when she’d worn one as a child. The King still kept it by his bed, much to Jenia’s disgust. There was no need to explain. She understood. A drop of blood, a whisper of magic, and her father would have her off this island before she could blink. Kill their pursuers too, if she asked it of him. Break whatever spell bound her power. Set her free.
She was tempted, that much was obvious. Not surprising when she’d spent the last century being judged and persecuted for who and what she was. She had to realise they’d never trusted her. Not fully. Not with that power sleeping inside her. And now? They’d never trust her again. Not after what she’d done.
‘I can’t. It would just be exchanging one cage for another. I’d rather die than give myself to him.’
‘Gods, what is it about the King’s blood that makes his daughters so damned stubborn?’ he hissed in frustration. Regretting his words the moment he said them. But the damage was done. Théon froze, glaring at him with lethal focus.
‘What did you say?’ she breathed.
He took a deep breath. There was no avoiding it now.
So he told her. Told her how he’d chanced upon her sister in the Ravenswood. How he’d fought and captured Keriath. Lost her to Drosta and his Hunt. And when he was done, she slapped him clean across the face. He recoiled from the force of it but didn’t retaliate. Gods knew he’d deserved it. She turned away, her shoulders shaking. With anger or fear, he wasn’t sure.
‘Théon, I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘But it’s not too late. We can free her. We can free you both. The King can break whatever spell they’ve bound you with, and then we can save Keriath. We can all be free.’
Her shoulders stopped shaking, and she turned to face him. Something had changed in her eyes. If he hadn’t known better, he’d have said it was her father staring through them – they were so cold and full of hate.
‘I will raze the whole world to ash before I let Keriath suffer like I did,’ she snarled. He stepped back when he saw her eyes glow with that terrifying light as the Shade fought for freedom. Tried to stay calm in the face of that raging power.
‘And if you had a choice?’ he asked. ‘If you could trade your place for hers? Would you do it?’
‘Did you not hear me?’ she hissed in a voice that was death. ‘Or did I not speak plainly enough for you? I will die a thousand deaths before I go back to him, and I will burn the world down before I see Keriath endure that fate. Understand this, Darkling, I will kill us both before I allow either of us to stand at his side. I’ll kill you too, if I have to. By the Gods, you’d deserve it.’
‘I’m sorry, Théon,’ he whispered. ‘But you knew why I was here the day we met. You know I didn’t have a choice, not in any of it. I’ve done everything I can to fight the Claiming, to prepare you as best as I can. To give you the best chance at beating me. I swear it.’
‘You think that’s why I’m angry?’ she snarled, her aura raging like wildfire. In her fury, she had loosed her hold upon her glamour, revealing herself in all her wild savagery. She was beautiful and strong and fierce, and in that moment, he realised he loved her. Diathor was nothing more than a distant memory. A ghost that haunted his waking dreams. But here was a living, breathing woman who he would follow to the ends of the world if it was his choice.
‘Why then?’ he asked.
The Shade was raging to get free, pulsing behind her eyes. ‘Of course I knew why you were here!’ she spat. ‘I’ve known this moment was coming for years – since the day I learned that the name of my father’s new general was the same as the Lord Protector who gave his life to save me. No one else bothered to remember your name, but I did and I knew. I knew that somehow you’d survived and you’d tried to avenge her. How else do you think you’ve survived this long, when all your predecessors have fallen to Resari’s blade? I’ve been ready for you for years now and I should have killed you on sight. But you showed me kindness when I didn’t deserve it, and I owed you the same chance. And when I let you see the monster underneath, and you didn’t flinch … Do you know how long it’s been since anyone looked at me and didn’t just see the darkness sleeping within? You gave me hope, made me care for you, made me think there was a chance. And then you shattered it all!’
‘Théon, I’m sorry—’ His voice hitched, the self-loathing like
a fist around his throat.
‘Don’t!’ she screamed. ‘You don’t get to be sorry. You gave me hope. And then with your next breath told me you’d sent my sister to the Darkling Queens, to face Gods only know what! You could have done or said anything to get me to return, but you hit me where you knew it would hurt hardest. Do you think I need the monster to free her? Do you think I need my father to fight my battles for me? I will tear Dar Kual down with my bare hands and drag Keriath from the rubble. And when I am done, I will hunt down the bastard that sired me, and I will kill him for everything he has done.’
‘That’s why he sent me!’ Alexan bellowed, tears in his eyes. ‘He sent me because he knew I alone could break you. He knew I could get under your skin like nobody else, because I am the only one left living who has seen you at your weakest. I helped lead you back to the light; he thought it was fitting for me to lead you back into the darkness.
‘I never had a choice, Théon. It’s all been him since the first moment I walked into that blasted city. Why do you think he made me this in the first place? He looked into my head, a hundred years ago, and saw what we meant to each other. He’s spent the last century breaking me, turning me into the perfect weapon to break you. It’s all he cares about – having you back at his side. He wants his children safe. Is that so wrong?’
‘He’s a demon bent on ruling the world!’ she yelled. ‘He killed my mother, slaughtered my people! He doesn’t get to care about things like family!’
A high, girlish voice interrupted them – echoing through the chamber. ‘Oh, but he does, little Théon,’ it crooned. ‘He cares about his family very much.’ Alexan’s shoulders slumped in defeat when he saw the glint of blood-red hair in the shadows beneath the cave entrance.
Jenia.
The Darkling’s smile was diabolical as she stepped out of the shadows. A vicious growl ripped from Alexan’s lips at the sight of her. At the knowledge that Kieyin had either betrayed him or that the King’s patience had finally run out. Either way, he knew why she was here. The day he’d been made a Darkling, the King had given his first order – the same order he gave every Darkling. Obey Jenia’s word as though it was his own. When she spoke to him, she spoke with the Shade King’s voice. The voice of the Claiming. It was a voice he must obey.
He shifted from foot to foot, hoping to remind Théon that he was behind her – that he was still a threat. But his Queen’s attention was focussed on Jenia, putting pieces of the puzzle together.
‘I should have known you were behind this,’ she murmured, her voice barely more than a deadly whisper. ‘It has your sick, twisted mind written all over it.’
Jenia’s answering grin sent shivers down his spine. ‘Much as I would like to claim credit, I had nothing to do with any of this.’
‘Kieyin then?’ Théon breathed. ‘This doesn’t seem like my father’s style.’
‘If you’re looking for the architect of your destruction, I suggest you look behind you.’ Jenia hummed, cocking her head to the side as she considered her prey.
Théon looked at him, that evergreen gaze wide with betrayal. ‘You led her here?’
He shook his head, not taking his eyes off Jenia. ‘Not me.’
‘Oh, come now, don’t be shy,’ purred Jenia, tossing something in the dirt at their feet. ‘The mortal I took this from described you perfectly. Said you’d traded it for services rendered?’
Alexan tensed as Théon stooped to pick it up, but he didn’t need to look to know what it was. Diathor’s necklace. The one he’d given to Mari and Ana in exchange for their help in ferrying the mortal refugees off the mainland. Théon was staring at him, betrayal now mingling with hurt.
‘It’s not what you think,’ he murmured, low enough that only she could hear. ‘Illyandi wanted to help the mortals at the camp. The necklace was payment to get them to the islands. She told me you knew.’
Théon’s gaze hardened. ‘And you believed her?’
‘I had to give the mortals to my Hunt to play with,’ Jenia was saying. ‘They were not best pleased with you, Alexan. They wanted to come with me, to make you suffer for the pain you caused, but I wanted to savour this moment alone. I just hope two can keep them occupied until I return.’
‘Your Hunt are slow, lazy and predictable, Jenia,’ he retorted. ‘I’ve been telling you that for years.’
‘Did you fuck her like one of your Elucion whores?’ Jenia crooned, her eyes flashing with delight. Darkling senses were sharp, and only one thing made scents mingle that closely. ‘I hope not, for your sake – the King won’t be happy if you treated his daughter like a common slut.’
‘Fuck you,’ Théon hissed.
‘Mmm. Perhaps I’d enjoy that. You tell me – did he make you moan? Coax delicious noises from you? I’ve never bothered with him myself, but you might just have perked my interest.’
‘My father rarely likes to share. I might even consider going back to him, if he’d let me be the one to inflict your punishment for being unfaithful.’
It was only because Alexan knew Jenia so well that he saw her blanch at the thought. She was baiting Théon. Jenia’s heart, black and callous though it was, belonged to the King. She’d never looked twice at another man. Théon’s father was a jealous bastard, though not half as jealous as his lover.
‘We could stand here and trade insults all day,’ Jenia replied, her voice deeper and heavy with ancient weariness, ‘but it will still come down to the same thing, Théon. You have a choice. Come with me, return to your father. You can be with Alexan; we will rescue Keriath, and you can do whatever you like to the Darkling Queens.’
‘Or?’
Jenia heaved a great sigh. ‘Or die.’
‘Death it is,’ Théon said. ‘But I will not go quietly.’
Jenia smirked. ‘I wouldn’t expect anything less. Alexan, kill her.’
The order tore through him like a knife, piercing flesh and bone to reach his heart. His body moved of its own accord, even as he roared in warning. But she was faster than either of them expected and blasted him back into the rocks with a Casting. Fought her way past Jenia and vanished.
Alexan followed, the King’s orders ringing in his ears. Kill her. But how could he bring himself to do the deed? No. No matter what, he wouldn’t do it. Even if it meant sacrificing his own life.
Dawn was near to breaking as he scrambled up the cliffs after Théon. He’d been fast enough to chase down Keriath. He was as fast as any of the Graced. Faster, thanks to the dark magic that had corrupted him into this monster. He just prayed she was faster.
He’d never seen himself as clearly as he did now. Théon’s eyes, with all the pain and fury they held, had been the mirror he’d needed. He tried to tell himself that was why he pushed himself so hard to catch her. He was a monster that needed put down, and Théon was the only one who could do it. But it was a lie. Jenia’s orders – the King’s orders – were singing in his blood, driving him onward.
Kill her. Kill her. Kill her. The words were a drumbeat as frantic as his racing heart. He wouldn’t do it, he told himself. He’d find a way. Give her every chance to kill him first. He could smell her passage up the cliffs. The fear. The fury. Lust and rage. All of it mingled with his scent. He couldn’t believe they had lain tangled together beneath the waterfall only hours ago.
There was no time to dwell on it. He had to catch her. He could claim purer motivations all he liked, but whether it was to kill or be killed, he had to reach her before Jenia. If Jenia got there first … Théon’s death would become the stuff of legend. A warning to all who would turn their back on Sephiron’s heir. Gods only knew what they’d do to Illyandi and Silvermane, if they found them. To the other Graced sheltering here.
He hauled his body up over the cliff edge and picked out the dark figure sprinting across the moor. Back towards the beach. Towards the Dragons. Towards their camp in the dunes. Spotted that familiar head of pale blonde hair amongst them. Sensed the hastily erected wards surrounding
them. He hissed through his teeth in frustration, launching himself after her. He was close enough to see the sheen of sweat on her arms, to taste the tang of fear.
‘Théon!’ he roared, hoping she would stop and praying she kept going. He saw her flinch, though she didn’t check her stride. But it was all the opening he needed. He crashed into her, tackling her to the ground. They rolled over and over, tumbling over the rough ground. Her knee came up, catching him in the gut, but he didn’t retaliate. When they came to a halt, he sprang back and placed himself between her and the pursuing Huntress.
‘I’m sorry,’ he choked. ‘I can’t fight it.’
Théon smiled grimly, nodding in understanding. ‘It’s just another training session,’ she murmured, ‘just you and me.’
He wasn’t sure who she was trying to reassure, but he felt himself calm at the sound of her gentle voice. He struck first, aiming for her beautiful face. She grinned, ducking and spinning away. He struck again, this time aiming to take her legs from beneath her, but she leapt clear and gave him a hefty kick in the ribs for his effort. They traded blows back and forth, probing but far from tentative. She was not holding back. Thanks to their training, she was stronger and faster than she’d ever been, understanding how and where to strike and blocking his every move. They were too evenly matched. It left too much to chance.
‘Cast,’ he gasped.
‘I don’t want to kill you,’ she pleaded.
‘No choice,’ he panted. ‘Kill or be killed. Do it now.’
He sensed the moment she reached for her magic. Faced with certain death, the Claiming took over. His own Casting exploded out of him, a storm of wind and ice, too strong for even Théon to block. She was blasted backwards, her body flying in a silent arc before crashing to the ground with a sickening crunch. His stomach heaved at the power coursing through him, but the Claiming was in control, and it kept him focussed on his prey.
Then he heard a sound he never wanted to hear again. Illyandi was screaming. She’d broken past the old man and was racing towards her sister lying in a crumpled heap just outside the wards. Silvermane was roaring at her to come back, to stay out of harm’s way, trying to push his way past Dorrien even as Faolin sprinted after his lover. But the Princess couldn’t hear them. Her green-and-gold eyes were fixed on her sister, her power shaking the earth.